A/N: Hello!
This is an AU in which Howard finds Steve Rogers after twenty years of searching. Tony is 12 at the time. I'm estimating Steve's age to be 23, and therefore Howard's to be 46 at the time. Pretty much everything else is the same in this universe. I might do some tweaking here and there. Yep.
So, if that doesn't give you fair warning enough- there is a major age gap in this story! If you don't like that sort of thing, I'd steer away from this story.
This is currently rated PG-13, but I have future ambitions to turn it up to Mature. However, that probably will not be for a few chapters, and I will inform you when I am changing the rating. For now, enjoy a frustrated, fluffy Tony.
Thanks! (:
The problem with being a child prodigy, with a knack for blowing things up, was that nobody took you seriously. Anthony Edward Stark showed, from a young age, promise. He had a talent for mechanics. Often playing with small electronics, taking them apart, and putting them back together. Which was all great, dandy, until that one time where the radio exploded. Or that other time where the toaster caught on fire. And, never, ever mention the motor-bike. To be fair, his failures were just a step forward. Thomas Edison took ten thousand trial-and-errors before he found the one way that would work. Every great inventor had his share of explosions.
Howard didn't take failure as lightly. He had wanted Anthony to be everything he couldn't be. Wanted him to be the best. He forced feed these ideals to him since he was a child. Scolding his failures, but somehow never having the time when Anthony did prevail. Eventually, Howard had come to a revelation, he had found it easier to buy the affection of his son. It was much easier to give Anthony what he wanted. The eight year old would point to what he wanted, and the next day it would be served to him on a silver platter. Perhaps his father thought that if he could distract Anthony, or send him away to 'summer camp' or 'boarding school', then he wouldn't notice his marriage going down the drain.
But Anthony couldn't not notice, he noticed everything. The words of his Father would come back to him sometimes. That one night he snuck into Anthony's room, reeking of alcohol, Anthony was only pretending to be asleep. He had actually been taking apart a walkie-talkie, and now all the pieces were hidden under the sheets, along with a cool, steel torch. Father's clumsy hand patted his head in a rare form of physical affection, or affection at all. But his voice was cold and flat. "Why can't you just be normal?"
Sometimes he wished he was normal. Like all the other kids who stuck ungodly things up their noses, and ran around without a worry in the world. But he wasn't normal. He had entertained the thought, more than once, what would happen if he was what his father wanted. Would things be different? Would they be better? Or would he just be like the toys in Father's lab? Played with, until he got bored, and then discarded.
There was one thing, however, that Howard never got tired of. It was the endless search for Captain America, the legend. The search had started years before Anthony was born, it started the day after the Captain went missing. It wasn't like Anthony didn't idolize the man, because he certainly did. He was an legend, and American hero, it was hard to hate Captain America. But, he was jealous of how Howard was hung up over him. For the twelve of his life, twenty years, searching.
Twenty years, wasted, searching for a man who was illegibly dead. All that time eventually is paid off with a single phone call. And then, everything changes in a blink of an eye. They have found Captain America, after twenty years of being frozen in ice. Everything happens in a blur. But Howard is happier. Maria also seems more at peace. And Captain America lies in one of the many room at Stark Manor. They found him in the ice, but also found he was still alive. After much arguing as to whom's property Captain America was, and where he should stay- it was decided that he'd stay where the best technology, and medical assistance could be offered.
And Captain, or Steve, as Tony's father affectionately calls him, is perfectly healthy. The only problem is, that is all he does is sleep. He was frozen in a coma, possibly to never wake again.
It had been a half a year, until Tony finally bucked up the courage to sneak into Captain America's room. Which, according to his father, was strictly forbidden form trouble-making twelve year olds. It was midnight, and adrenaline pumped through him as he snuck through the hallways, torch in hand. He had pressed the door open, which creaked ominously.
That was the first time he laid eyes on Steve Rogers, laying there in the unflattering torch light which Tony greedily shone on his face. His golden hair, and strong jaw, and agelessness peacefulness all stunned him. His heart beat can be seen on the monitor, is the only hint that still lives and breaths. Quietly, the boy sinks onto the edge of the bed. He hadn't known what he wanted. To see the hero, or just the man, Steve Rogers. The hero, the one he could idolize. The man, he could hate for stealing his father's affections. Yet, he couldn't help but see both. And Tony be damned, he wanted one.
He wanted Steve Rogers, Captain America. He wanted him now. To wake up. He pressed a hand to the man's shoulders, and gave him a stern shake. "I want you to wake up, now," he mutters, stops, and then waits. He waits all night, until the sun begins to peek over the horizon, and that is as late as he dares before creeping back to his room. A permanent sulk is stuck to his face the rest of the day. That was the first time, since he was two, that Anthony Edward Stark was denied something he wanted.