In 1945 when Steve's mother died, her last wish had been for him to be safe. He vividly remembered her begging his neighbor and childhood caregiver Howard Stark to take him somewhere, anywhere to keep him away from all the chaos. Steve suspected that by that she meant somewhere where he was incapable of enlisting to fight in the war. Not that he would ever be taken anyway, due to his severe asthma.
For a while after that, he'd lived with his best friend Bucky's family, who welcomed him in open arms despite his worries that he'd be a burden. Nevertheless, he was happy at Bucky's. It gave him an excuse to be around his friend, and he felt he was useful there. After three months, just when he'd begun to settle in to his new life, Howard Stark returned with a solution to his mother's wish. He claimed he'd found a way to send Steve somewhere where the war wouldn't be able to touch him. Somewhere where things were more 'progressive' and 'mature'.
It turns out, however, that he didn't plan to send Steve to a far away place. He planed to send Steve to the future. According to Howard's logic, he'd send him to when the war was over, for his own safety.
Well Steve certainly didn't feel safe now, crouched in a small red capsule tumbling and rolling somewhere in what Howard had called the 'time vortex'. He clung to the seat, knuckles white as the so-called time machine turned over and over, taking Steve's stomach with it. He felt his pocket to make sure his inhaler was still there, in case he had an attack in the machine. Next to it, a folded copy of his birth certificate and photos of himself and his family as 'proof' of who he was. Steve bit down on his lip, knowing that it would be an awful idea to throw up in such a small place, but nauseous all the same. He didn't know how long he'd been in the capsule. It felt like hours at some points, mere seconds at others. But finally, he landed.
The red capsule landed with a jolt, before settling into absolute stillness. Steve opened the door cautiously, only to see a dark-haired man staring quizzically at him. Steve crawled out of the pod, studying the man with suspicion. He didn't look much older than Steve, maybe in his early twenties. "Hi." Steve said awkwardly, getting to his feet and holding his hand out for the other man to shake.
The dark haired man stared at it skeptically. When it was apparent that the other man wasn't going to shake hands with him, he dropped his hand down, and released the man's gaze. He took the opportunity to look around for the first time, and take in his surroundings. As he expected, he hadn't moved at all. At least not spatially. He was still in Howard Stark's backyard.
The only thing that appeared to be different was the fancy, if a bit rusted swing set in the corner of the yard. Steve cleared his throat, looking back at the dark haired man only to find him glaring suspiciously. "I'm Steve." He said, once again holding out his hand. This time, the other man took it. "Tony" he said finally, voice flat and unamused. "Right. Apologies…Tony. For landing in your yard." He said awkwardly, biting his lip nervously.
Tony's eyes softened a bit, glancing back at the machine. "Yeah, it's fine. The grass will live." He said drily. "Where did you come from?" he asked, although it was more of a demand. "Brooklyn." He replied quietly, not wanting to disclose the details of his travels. "If you don't mind me asking…what year is it?" he asked Tony. The dark haired man raised an eyebrow. "Jeez, how much did you have to drink last night?" he asked, sounding almost impressed. At Steve's blank look, he cleared his throat. "Sorry. Just…you kinda have to be pretty drunk to forget the year." He said. "Which is?" Steve prompted.
Tony smirked at him. "It's 2014, of course." He said