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Tony Stark Death Valley, where the stars are clearer than anywhere else in America.

Funny, then, that it's where Steve Rogers is out camping.

Funny, then, on the topic that had plagued Tony Stark's mind after his fight in the Shrine with Gilgamesh, his fight with the Yakuza, and his fight with the forces of Sangvis Ferri. Every time, his armor was coming up short.

It's the early afternoon, around the hottest time of day, but Steve Rogers' reprieve from 'the doghouse' comes over the Quinjet's communicator, first.

"Rogers, I'm going to need you to come in."
Rogers is out camping.

So it rests on Tony to go find the Star Spangled Man, out in the middle of the desert. Streaking through the air, the Mark XLIII screams around at cruising altitude.

"I've located Captain Rogers."
"Mark locaton and set flaps to auto."

Tony aims his landing for Steve's camp at the outskirts, coming in for a gentle landing before stepping out of the armor with a tank top and a pair of aviators. "Rog-ers! We need to chat! Lordy it's hot out here."
Steve Rogers      Steve Rogers has been having a pretty good day.

     It started out as a joke on Tony, an All-American Chuckle, right up until Tony actually offered him the Quinjet and a destination. Tony was that kind of guy, after all, and Steve just wasn't the kind of guy to turn down that kind of offer. He was in contact, he was easy to reach, and best of all, he'd spent the night under the stars like he hadn't done since boot camp. It had brought memories flooding back to him, memories of a time before mass communication and mass superhumanity, memories of jazz music and gunfire, of a kid from Brooklyn who didn't know when to call it quits, of a dear friend lost and of a love long past. It was nice, for a change, to get away from cell phones, from catching up on the decades he'd missed, from CLARENCE and all the other things modern life jammed into his face. At times like this he almost felt like a regular soldier.

     And, really, that's all he'd ever wanted to be. That kid from Brooklyn had never wanted anything more in his life. He'd never wanted this, the six-and-change feet of raw superhuman muscle. He'd never expected this, world fame, an icon of what America was supposed to be. He'd never asked for this.

     He just wanted to be able to do what was right.

     Steve hears Tony coming before he sees him. The Iron Man suit's never been quiet, and the desert is. At first he picks up his shield and moves behind cover, but when he sees that it is in fact Tony and not some kind of automated missile, he sets the shield down and walks over to meet him. The camp itself's only a campfire, a tent, and a book sitting on a rock.

     "Hi, Tony," he says as Tony steps out, "Something wrong?"

     Steve looks up at the sun.

     He's barely sweating.

     "It's a little hot," he agrees, "Different kind of heat, really. The metal and the glass make the..."

     Steve stops.

     "Something wrong?" He repeats, deciding that perhaps getting into a debate about the environment and natural heat with the world's leading scientist is probably a stupid decision.
Tony Stark Tony takes a moment to soak in the sights.
Quaint campsite.
Zero technology to be seen, except the Quinjet in the periphery.
Desert left, right, and center.

The moment passes. Tony Stark remains unenthused. His tone drops to a 'really?'-tinged deadpan. "No, Rogers, I just flew in with the most advanced powered suit in the world, to find a super soldier in a desert and didn't just call him because there was nothing up, and Tony Stark does courtesy calls."

He pops a smirk. "There is something wrong, but it's not a mission. It's...

Stark looks around, his voice trailing off. From the pocket of his pants he produces a little articulated metal cube, which he tosses onto the ground that unfolds into a simple camping chair, which he flops down in exhaustedly. "... It's everything, Rogers. You may not keep up, but that's the Forty-Three. The latest model. And I just got /crushed/ in it. It's been a week active and three of my armors are in for repairs, one is out for a total do-over, and there's no way it's all a coincidence. And you--"

He gestures at the barely sweating Man Bod-gers. "You're fine. Have you noticed, though? It's like every day is New York."
Steve Rogers      Steve grins at Tony's response. He sits down on one of the rocks around the campsite and gestures for Tony to do the same. Tony may not want to, because the rocks are probably hotter than the air, but Steve apparently doesn't believe in *chairs* when he's camping. When Tony drops the camping chair, Steve sort of gives it a look, like he's both impressed by its existence and also fascinated that Tony wouldn't just use what's already there to begin with.

     Then again, it does look comfortable.

     Steve folds his arms over his chest. "I haven't really been thinking about it as much as you have, Tony. It's something that needs to be done, so we do it. It's what we did with New York, it's what we're doing here. New York didn't go as smoothly as it could've either."

     "We adjust." Steve shrugs. "We'll get there."

     "That can't be all that's bugging you, Tony. You had to know what I'd say." Steve's grin widens a bit. "I bet you had even odds that it would be this or the 'you're a good man and you make the right choices, and that's what counts, not the armor' speech, too, didn't you?"

     His grin fades. "You are. You are a good man, and when you step up to the plate, you do make the right choices. It's why I'm not worried about all this."

     "So what else is it, Tony?" Steve leans forward, setting his arms on his elbows and his chin on his hand. "What aren't you telling me?"
Tony Stark Stark nods. "But it's not the same. You, and Thor, and Banner, you fret about using too much strength. Or if you want a cape, or if the headwings on the classic helmet should be more prominent in the new one." He jokes, lightly, back at Rogers as he speaks on adjustment.

"It's not the same with me, or Rhodey. Barton and Romanoff, they're super-spies. They'll always be useful, becuase spies don't need to stop gods in their tracks."

"I don't adjust, Rogers, I innovate. And the reason SHIELD is ahead of the game for once, and the Avengers can take a break, is because of that innovation."

Stark slumps in his chair, sliding from a 'decent but lax' posture to a completely shit posture, head resting on the chairback. "I'm worried because Iron Man was enough, or more than enough, and now I'm taking blows from the second string. Vanko said he 'won', when the Iron Man bled. I need something more, Steve."

"I need to borrow your shield."
Steve Rogers      "I kinda liked the head wings," Steve admits sheepishly.

     Steve shakes his head. "I don't agree. The Iron Man suit didn't save New York, Tony Stark did. The Iron Man suit...I know you do that whole 'I am Iron Man' bit, but it's just a suit, Tony. It's just power. It's not what matters. You adapt. You make the calls that other people won't. You're not just a man in a suit of armor."

     But Tony slumps, and Steve frowns. "If Vanko won, it's because he showed the world that Iron Man could be reached, not because you bled. That other people could make their own powers. That other people could fly to the same heights you did. You're not going to be able to get that back just because you innovate, Tony. Definitely not with the Multiverse around us. I mean, yesterday I fought a dragon girl and her ghost husband." Steve shakes his head. "New York changed everything. And we can't un-change it. All we can do is adapt. And you will adapt. You can call it whatever you like, but you will."

     Steve picks up the shield and holds it out to him. "Your father made this shield. It's probably as much yours as mine. Maybe more. You don't need to ask my permission for that, Tony. If it helps you find peace of mind with whatever you're working on, take it and do whatever you need."
Tony Stark Tony Stark, for long moments, is silent. His eyes close, and the words wash over him like a hot shower. Perhaps Tony was here because he needed to hear it. He needed to hear the words spoken by the Unimpeachable Man. The man who absolutely would never tell a lie. The All-American, Star Spangled Man with a Plan.

For as much guff as Stark gave Rogers, the reason why he was the brains but Rogers was the leader of the Avengers was because Rogers was the heart of the team.

"It all happened so fast. I let Rhodes take the Mark II so when I..." He swallows. "Poisoned myself to death, there'd still be an Iron Man. Someone I could trust. I could trust Rhodes to carry it on. Keep the dream alive, even if he wouldn't ever inherit my throne."

Stark opens his eyes, sitting up as Steve holds out the shield, his hand reaching up, uncertain. "My father created the shield, you're right. But that's not why I need it."

He rallies, a little Stark Smirk tugging at his mouth. "You really don't know why you're special, do you? Captain America was a project that was a miracle of the future, but a complete failure of science."

"Howard Stark created the vibranium shield, not out of pure vibranium, because there wasn't enough. He created it with metallurgical help from Dr. Myron MacLain, who worked for the SSR to create next-generation metals for use in the American war effort. The shield? A prototype tank hatch. Over seventy years ago, he dozed off while working and created the strongest vibranium alloy in existance. Your shield's not pure Vibranium - MacLain called the alloy 'Adamantium'. But seventy years ago, they didn't have the technology to reproduce it. They couldn't analyze it. It was a black box in a..."

He takes the shield, finally, hefting it in his hands. "Stupid disc form. Then you went into the ice, locking away your mystery serum enhanced body and your mystery parameter shield."
Steve Rogers      Steve reaches out and closes a hand on Tony's shoulder as he talks about Rhodes. About poisoning himself. About trusting Rhodey, about keeping the dream alive. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't feel it's either his place, or his right, or something necessary. He shifts Tony's shoulder lightly and smiles at him, then lets go and sits back.

     "I didn't say you needed it because of that. I just said you had every right to use it for whatever." Steve folds his hands under his chin. "We both know that you're at your absolute happiest when you're working on *something*. I figured you just had some kind of crazy idea."

     Steve's eyes get a little bit misty when Tony talks about the shield. It's not because he's not paying attention. It's the look of an old man in a nursing home remembering lost friends fondly, the distant gaze of someone thinking about times long ago. He's listening, of course, but really, he's hearing Howard give him the same speech, just slightly tweaked. He's hearing Myron MacLain shake his hand and walk him through the process like any of it meant anything to him. That he, and it, were a pair of black boxes, with made-up words and big science words and all the things Steve Rogers had never understood.

     Tony takes the shield, and the look disappears, and Steve looks at him. "So you need it because you want to analyze it and reproduce it? What for?"
Tony Stark Stark doesn't shake when he's touched, but there's an equally far-off look of loss and pain in Stark's eyes. Perhaps Steve knows, or has an inkling, of why Tony came to him, in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, with only the Iron Man suit overseeing him.

He would know that Avengers Tower was the land of SHIELD, overseen by the One Good Eye of Nick Fury and his cadre of spies. Here, it was just Tony and Steve.

This wasn't the Tony Stark that was allowed to be seen by many.

"Every right doesn't cut it, Rogers. You know that. If you told me you needed a suit, you'd have one. But you'd never be Iron Man."

"And I'll n-" It catches in his throat. "-never be Captain America."

The moment passes, and he turns the shield over in his hands a few times. "Yeah. I want to give JARVIS and Friday a day or so with it to hit it with every kind of scanner we have. If you'd be willing to let me handle it when you're not on-mission or on-deck for response, I'd... Appreciate it, Rogers. But come on, man."

He looks up at Rogers, tapping down his Aviators so he could really look over the rims at Steve. "It's for a suit, why else? Vibranium alloys and Vibranium based polymers could give the whole team an edge. And it's something we have that Klaue and HYDRA don't - Because I'm the only man on earth that can /synthesize/ the stuff."
Steve Rogers      Steve has a pretty good idea.

     "Alright then, Tony. You have every right to it, but," Steve crosses his arms, "You're also my friend. If you need anything of mine, you can always ask."

     It's such a simple, straightforward statement, from a simple, straightforward man. Not a stupid man by any stretch, and a man who's never felt stupid, even surrounded by the world's greatest geniuses. But a man who lived in a simpler time, when there were good guys and bad guys, when they didn't have to keep secrets from their friends. A man who lived in a time when the world just wasn't as big as it is today.

     He grins. "You could try, but you might be a little small for the uniform. Probably a little baggy. And the headwings aren't really your style. Although, have you ever considered putting some of those car spoilers on your suit? Or maybe some big silver exhaust ports? I hear the hotrod look's really coming back. I'm just in time for it to be cool again."

     Tony tells him it's for a suit, and Steve laughs. "Of course it is. I should've known. Sure, Tony. I can make do if something comes up." And he can. He always has.
Tony Stark Tony's eyes-over-rim-of-sunglasses look is defeated by Steve Rogers just being an All-American Guy. The sarcastic look and Stark Smirk falls back to just a normal, bemused gaze and a genuine smile. "Oh I'd just put in my SmartFit technology. Have you not seen that? Press a button and even a skin-tight outfit can be expanded for removal and storage, and always fit perfectly. I'd just..." He taps his chest, where the Arc Reactor used to be, and makes a 'ssslurp' sound. "Hit the button and - boop! - look like it was a fitted arrangement. We live in the future, Rogers!" He stands up, and offers the shield back to Steve. "But you're on call, soldier. So this is still something you should hold onto. I can't predict you going out to help japanese boat ghosts with search and rescue against some freakish acid-spitting alien with mandibles out the ying-yang."

He kicks a release on the field chair, the whole thing folding up so he can bend down and pocket it.

"But good talk, Rogers."

He slides his sunglasses off, and there's no wit or sarcasm within him for a moment. "I think I needed it. See you when you bring my stealth jet back!" He waves off, faux saluting, before stepping backwards into the Mark XLIII and extending his hands in the classic 'Iron Man Takeoff' posture.