FANFIC: darkened underpass (MCU)
May. 18th, 2026 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenslayerbeeTitle: darkened underpass.
Fandom: MCU.
Character/Pairing: James Rhodes/Tony Stark.
Rating/Warnings: T, none.
Summary: In this story, Rhodey is the one in need of a rescue.
Word count: 2.5k.
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After he received (more precisely, pried) confirmation that Rhodey was still alive (like he always knew, thank you very much, why don’t people fucking listen to him), Tony gave himself one hour.
One exact hour, to let out all his pent-up frustration.
You wouldn’t know it, looking at him from the outside. Anyone could tell you Tony Stark was always in constant movement; he thought and talked and motioned so fast you could miss it by blinking. Trying to catch up with the guy was an exercise in futility.
But his anger, his real anger, made him still.
He didn’t look over the alarming number of blueprints or distracted his hands tinkering with pointless busywork while his mind ran a mile a minute. He simply sat in the middle of the workshop, cursing everyone he could think of as a guilty party.
Rhodey’s crew, for assuming he was dead and leaving him behind. NASA, for not acting quicker when Tony knew, in his bones, that Rhodey was alive and kicking and alone and slowly dying out there. Obadiah, for insisting that Tony needed to work on some mines or missiles or anything else other than on bringing him back. Himself, because despite thinking about it every minute of every day, he still had to figure out a solution.
Rhodey, because why the hell not. He should be there, on Earth, where Tony could always reach him. Not on Mars, where the slightest miscalculation on his part would get him killed and Tony couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Because apparently, his first message had been a reassurance that what happened was nobody’s fault, and definitely not his crew’s.
Tony rubbed his eyes and let out a slow stream of breath until his mind felt clear.
“JARVIS? Bring back my calculations.”
Yes, sir, the screen read.
Tony frowned, thinking of the precious milliseconds he lost every time he had to read JARVIS’ responses.
He’d have to give him a voice.
People made countless assumptions about Rhodey’s friendship with Tony.
For example, about how they met. Most people seemed to think it’d been in an out-of-this-world frat party, drunk off their asses. Others that it’d been during one of Tony’s famed (and often blown out of proportion, in Rhodey’s opinion) lab accidents. The most boring ones just thought they'd started talking in one of their shared classes. But all in all, everyone expected Tony to be the one making trouble.
In truth, Rhodey had been the one starting shit that night.
There had been some douchebag, whose name Rhodey couldn’t bother to remember, that had made things get out of hand during hazing, humiliating Rhodey and more than a few others and getting them into trouble. Rhodey liked to think of himself as a level headed person (and hopefully, he had grown into truly becoming so), but that guy had put his stay in MIT in trouble and he couldn’t stand the idea of letting it go. So he was going to scratch the paint of his car, maybe give him one or four flat tires, spray a dick on it.
Look. Maybe ruining someone’s car wasn’t the most original revenge plane ever invented in the history of mankind. But out of all he’d thought of, it entailed the least risk of being discovered. And Rhodey intended to have as spotless a record as he could possibly manage.
It was easy to pick it up in the parking lot, at least, because it was the douchiest car ever.
Except, apparently, there was more than one huge douche on campus.
“What the fuck, dude? That’s my car!”
Rhodey turned around, panicking, and came face to face with a guy that didn’t look a day older than twelve. And of course, he recognized him. Everyone did. He was a bit of an infamous legend around campus. Rhodey shared a few classes with him; he hadn’t really thought of trying to share a few words as well, even if he couldn’t help feeling a vague sense of curiosity.
He was wearing a tracksuit that, in Rhodey’s opinion, went well with the car. He didn’t look angry, he thought. Just slightly perplexed, and as if he thought Rhodey belonged in an institution.
“Are you even old enough to drive?!” Rhodey half screamed.
The Stark kid shrugged, nonchalant, his arms half-flailing around and his second chin made to look comically big. It was mildly charming, admittedly.
“I thought it was someone else’s car.” He sighed and raised his hands, pleading. “Don’t sue me. I really don’t have the money to fix it.”
“Why would I sue you?” He asked, baffled. “I have money.”
Something about his voice, about the childlike timber he still carried, made Rhodey dissolve in hysteric laughter.
“And seriously? A car? That’s the best you can do?”
“Think you can top that?”
“Hell yeah.”
And that’s how he found himself in Tony’s personal lab (the perks of being a rich kid seemed endless), listening to his increasingly complex ideas. And feeling damn self-satisfied by the fact that he could follow them without a problem (and even correct a few tweaks and propose some of his own that left Tony impressed), when he’d hear innumerable people, teachers included, complain that Tony Stark spoke in a completely different language.
Well, turns out Rhodey was fluent too.
Rhodey woke up. He barely stopped himself from throwing up, nauseous as he was, inside of his suit.
The last shades of his dream, his memory, stayed behind his eyes when he tried to move. His mind was attempting to put together what had just happened, where the hell he was, why was he alone, where could he go.
None of the answers was reassuring.
As he tried to stand up again and seek refuge in the station, Rhodey thought that he’d better have some crazy idea of his own, Tony-style, to get out of that hellish planet.
“You seriously expect me to give half a fuck about that now, Obi?”
Obadiah visibly calmed himself down, and started again, this time with a conciliatory tone. “Tony,” he started, putting his hands on Tony's shoulders as he spoke. “We are all just as worried as you are. You know that. But this isn’t your job! You have a responsibility to this company. Hundreds of employees depend on you, and so do thousands of lives out there. Rhodey’s covered. I understand that you’d want to consult, but you still have a real job, here. If you stop, this whole machine will fall down without you.”
“I think Ms Potts here has done a fantastic job covering for me so far.”
Both men turned to Pepper when Tony pointed his arms at her, showing her off. She had managed to maintain a carefully bland expression during their entire discussion.
Obadiah extended her a grateful smile. “Yes, she has. But as great as she is at half of your job, you are more than just the head of this company, Tony. She’s not an inventor, you are.”
He didn’t bother to mention the entire R&D department that hadn’t stopped working on Obadiah’s wish-list. That argument only fell on deaf ears.
“Well, it is my company, right?” He started raising his voice, feeling vindictive. “Maybe I should start making some changes around here. Start a space race. The arms race is so passé. If I can’t even help my best friend while his life is in danger, I don’t know what all of that stock is good for! Or, we can all keep doing what we’re doing, since it seems my distractions haven’t tanked us yet.”
Obadiah covered his face with his hands, visibly trying to rein in his anger. “Very well, Tony. It’s clear this is a lost cause.” He walked out of the office.
Tony fell back on his chair, not remembering how or when he’d stood up. He’d only come by to update Pepper on Rhodey in person, and he regretted it the minute he did.
“I’m going to have to apologize for that later, aren’t I?” He sighed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Pepper made a non-committal noise under her noise. “I believe you have a meeting at NASA today, Mr Stark.”
Tony stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “If you’re trying to steal my job, Ms Potts, you’re welcome to it. I get the feeling you’re a lot better at this CEO thing than I am.”
Pepper’s poker face didn’t show any cracks, but it was easy to tell she agreed with him.
Rhodey finished his measly ration of that day, ready to lay in bed and drift, stomach clamoring with hunger when the screen he’d built to communicate with NASA shone again.
He raised up with some effort to approach it. If he’d had the strength for it, he’d laugh until he cried when he saw it: it was a drawing of a platypus, made entirely with punctuation symbols.
Rhodey couldn’t find it in himself to be even a little bit surprised to see Tony had hacked NASA.
Hello, Tony.
Miss me?
Like air.
He didn’t receive a response in almost five minutes. Tony had never known what to do in the face of candidness.
You must be bored halfway to death up there.
It’s not so bad. I’m catching up on my reading list.
I could always send you some porn for those lonely, lonely nights.
He was going to assume Tony had hidden this conversation from NASA; he’d have so much explaining to do otherwise. Not that he could trust Tony retained enough shame to worry about NASA hearing him talk about porn, if he was honest.
Please, don’t.
Party pooper. But I’m going to send you some tunes. Interplanetary distance can’t stop me.
Rhodey hung his head, a tired ghost of a laugh managing to make it past his lips.
I don’t doubt that.
The NASA employees around him were practically shouting their ideas back and forth, but Tony only listened with one ear. He kept his hands busy fiddling with his sunglasses, and he couldn’t stop tap-tap-tapping with his left foot.
Even through that ear, part of that attention was dedicated to the modern-pirate-slash-biker from Strategic Homeland Something-Something. He, and not NASA, had been the one to present himself in his house to tell him the news about Rhodey.
(Of course, Tony knew he’d been left for death by then; if your buddy decided to go on a journey in incredibly dangerous conditions to a hostile environment, and you could hack the NASA, well.)
Point being: Fury and his lot seemed awfully interested in Tony. In giving him access to any information that could help him bring Rhodey back. They were, in his opinion, shady as fuck, but Tony wasn’t one to look a horse gift in the mouth. He’d deal with whatever manipulations they had in mind after Rhodey was safe in his arms.
Most of his focus, however, was on the arc reactor.
It was the key. Tony could feel it. He’d spent hours staring at it, trying to figure out how it could be used to propel a spaceship, in the right way. The problem was not just minimizing it but limiting it; and then, to adapt it for out-of-this-Earth conditions. Too much power wouldn’t be of any use in this situation. It’d only get them killed before they could be of any use to Rhodey.
He was starting to see the threads come together in his mind. He could taste the answer on the tip of his mouth.
He stood up, as it had become clear the room was nothing but a distraction, and headed to the door addressing everyone with a half-hearted wave.
“You got this?” Fury asked, a hint of a smirk on the corner of his mouth.
Tony answered with his biggest shit-eating grin and put his sunglasses back in their place.
We are coming for you.
Rhodey, alone as he was, didn’t bother trying to suppress the two teardrops of sheer relief that fell down his face.
You know the arc reactor, the one Howard made?
I can make it smaller, use it to propel the transport. We can get to you before you’re through your rations.
A little laugh escaped through his low sobs. Sometimes, Tony sounded just as if he was straight up pulled from a science fiction pulp. Definitely not the manageable type of marvel you could expect to find in real life.
Wait.
What the hell do you mean by “WE” Tony.
Exactly what it sounds.
Don’t you fucking dare.
I’m the only one that understands that tech. If something goes wrong, I can fix it. Rhodey, I already had this discussion with three government agencies, Obi, and Pepper, and I won. It’s not like you can stop me from Mars :)
A fucking smile emoji. Fucking asshole.
You’re coming to Malibu with me. I’m not planning to take my eyes off you for the next ten years minimum, sugarplum.
He cleaned his cheeks and tried to calm himself down. The idea of Tony in space… Fuck. He wasn’t even barely trained. It was a recipe for disaster. But at least he wouldn’t be alone on a rocket.
That sounds creepy. I’m picturing you perched on a chair like a vulture watching me while I sleep.
Not like a vulture, that sounds uncomfortable.
You’re not watching me sleep, Tony.
But can I be there with you?
Rhodey blinked slowly, not sure if he’d read that right.
Want us to have slumber parties?
I want to be with you. In any way you want me.
Rhodey let his back fall into the chair, needing some distance from the screen. He’d like to pace around the room, to have a proper freak-out. But knowing Tony, if he waited too long, he’d have the freak-out and take it as a rejection.
I have to get stranded IN SPACE for you to finally ask me out, and you do it over TEXT??
At least I did it. We’ll never know what it would’ve taken for you to take the initiative, babe.
"Babe". Somehow, after all the ridiculously elaborate nicknames Tony had conjured for him in all the years they’ve had together, it was that one that made Rhodey feel warm all over.
Looking back on that day, Rhodey was aware there must have been more people in the room when he finally stepped into Tony’s slick monster of a spaceship.
But he wouldn’t have noticed them if they’d started dancing and screaming.
He felt engulfed in Tony’s arms. It was partially the setting, and mostly his own weight loss, but he felt as if Tony had grown a whole foot in presence alone.
He must have reeked. He must have looked like a shadow of the Rhodey Tony had last seen. Tony kissed him on his temple, and hugged him so hard it hurt all the way to his bones.
“If you ever plan on leaving Earth again, I’m your co-pilot, okay?” he whispered against his hair. “That’s non-negotiable”
Rhodey’s wrecked laugh echoed against the walls, and he hugged back just as hard.