A/N: This is a sort of love/hate Stony fanfic. It sort became a muse after listening to "Love The Way You Lie by Eminem and Rihanna". So, yeah. Angst, and possible fluff. Enjoy!
Tony Stark - genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And Tony Stark had quite the reputation, one he upheld religiously. Which, was much to the disapproval of the Good Old Captain. He may, or may not, Tony couldn't remember- of mentioned that Tony's habits were "inappropriate, and detrimental to the teams 'good image'". And just as Tony was about to ask - what good image - Rogers walked out on him. Funny thing was he sure as hell didn't see anybody else making an effort to have 'good image'. So, he wondered what made him so special to have to get preached to by the Captain, because it was just unfair to play favorites.
The big, bad problem here was that some, small, part of Tony still looked up to Captain America. He disgustingly worshipped the man when he was a boy; he collected every card, action figure, poster- name it, he had it. His father filled him up to his head with stories about the legend, well, that was when his father actually had time. More than often, that was after a long night of working in the shop, or when he was too drunk to manage little more than speaking. Tony grew out of his fan-boy phase as he got older- and grew bitter. Bitter that his father cared more a man that was more than likely dead, than his own son. The whole my-father-didn't-love-me complex, blah blah.
Honestly, though, Tony could handle this, if it really was just a little fan-body crush he still had for Rogers. But it wasn't. It also had to do with the first time they met. He had heard that Captain America had been found, and with many mixed emotions, he decided to go and meet him shortly after he awoke. Fury wasn't completely supportive of the idea, as he didn't want Tony's futuristic "tech-speak" to confuse or upset Cap. But then, Fury hadn't really stopped him before, so Tony sneaked in for a visit.
It wasn't how he imagined it when he was twelve, meeting the living legend. The room was small, a soft shade of cream, with a poster, a bed, and an old radio. It was like walking into a time capsule. Steve Rogers sat at the edge of the bed, listening to the radio, his face distant- to say the least. He instantly felt a strange pain in his chest, unconciously reaching to cover the arc reactor with his hand. Seconds ticked by, and just as thought of fleeing from the scene- Steve looked up at him.
Tony didn't know what his face looked like at the time, but he guessed it was equvialent to a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I-" he began.
"You must be Mr. Stark," Rogers interrupted, eyes softening ever so slightly.
"How did you-?"
"Fury," the Captain confessed with an amused grin, "he told me that you'd come, eventually."
He inwardly cursed at Fury, for knowing him so well. Next time he saw the man, he was going to give him hell for baiting him with Captain America. Because, really, who could resist? Even now, he could practically feel himself melting.
"Anyway, it is nice to meet you Mr. Stark, my name is Steve-" he cut in to Tony's thoughts after a while, politely offering his hand.
As much as he hated being handed things (or shaking hands), he'd be damned if he didn't shake the hand of Captain America, er, Steve. "Please, Mr. Stark is too formal- sounds like my father, call me Tony."
"Howard," Steve called, eyes glazing over with melancholy, "you look like him," Tony tried his best to not visibly wince at the comparison. "He was a good man."
Tony looked away, thankful Steve was too much in his own world to notice. "Yeah, yeah, he really was," he responded softly.
It was then that the door behind Tony slid open, making the two both jump back to their senses. Fury strode in, smirk in place as he moved to pat Steve on the shoulder. "Well, Tony Stark, is nice of you to join us, at last. You are just in time for the debriefing."
Fury was a scary motherfucker.
Which just reminded Tony- he needed to pay Fury back. He was just debating on whether to create a robot that would detonate a deadly stink bomb, or one that would follow Fury around playing disco, when there was a knock at the door. It was Steve, looking slightly irritable on the other side of the glass. Pros and cons of having glass doors, you could see who was coming in and they could see you. It's not like he could just pretend he never saw Steve standing there, hands practically on his hips and foot tapping.
He wheeled around, facing away from the door, letting out an sigh. He was going to get scolded. "Let Rogers in Jarvis," he said, picking up the gauntlet on his desk, pretending to be tinkering with the wires he had long deserted.
He watched, from the corner as Steve opened the door, and stormed in. His jaw squared, determined, his brows srunched together, brooding. It's the last thing Tony can't stand about Steve. He has no right, no sense, to be that attractive when he is angry.