Captain America goes to find Giant-man after his violent domestic dispute with Wasp-woman. He pays him back for the hurt with some of his own while the situation becomes more involved in the past, both recent and distant. Written for spankingfemme and filled with spoilers for The Ultimates.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dub-con spanking, direct and unveiled references to to both child and spousal abuse.
Captain Steven Rogers had lived in the slums when he was a child, though at the time he would have called it the ghetto without the affection that modern day rappers portray in their depictions of it. His parents were Irish immigrants who had been lucky enough to have found their way into the country a few years before the Johnson-Reed act in 1924. They didn't have a large place to live in; he couldn't have imagined having his own bed to sleep in without Douglas. Even on those nights when he was so sick that he didn't know he would wake up the next morning his baby brother was always close by and far from aggravating; he found the closeness a comfort.
His family wasn't Disney perfect in their poverty by any means; his father drank a little too much when finding work got difficult and then their spankings got hard enough to remember for days when they sat. Steve's asthma combined with what the doctors feared to be tuberculosis was another stress on them; he could see in their eyes that he might as well have been a walking corpse and they needed to blame someone. But his family never was split by these problems, even when his mother had to take up washing rich people's laundry. Even when he was left as the only one unemployable enough to keep their home neat. They stayed together despite their pain even when it would have hurt less to be apart.
Often enough the neighbors' families weren't even as tightly nit as his own and he could recall one day, while he was sweeping the dull wooden floors of their tiny home, hearing hard bitter crying from behind the thin walls. It was the sweet soprano voice of Mr. Hugh's wife that he heard and the radio playing didn't cover up her wailing with its tales of unease in Europe. She was a small pretty maid with wide black doe eyes that begged for kindness and a tiny pouting mouth that always wore bright red paint. Beyond a fan of the talents of her operatic voice that Steve listened to through his bedroom walls at night; she was his very first heart-throb.
Every day she would leave her home at the same time in the morning that he left to walk to school, dressed clean and neatly in a black and white assemble with an apron thrown over her arm and sensibly high black heels that would still cause a tingle in his nerves today. She never talked to him as they descended the stairs of the apartment together all those mornings but he still harbored the opinion that she was a very nice considerate woman from the way she spoke to her girlfriends on the steps over cigarettes. She was too nice to come out of a home with a slowly healing cracked lip or bruises barely hidden by her neatly ironed sleeves.
All women were too nice for that.
Steve had opinions that were, according to most everyone he encountered, out-dated concerning the opposite gender. He opened doors for Wasp-Woman, Betty Banner and any other lady he encountered at an entry way, didn't understand society's expectation of women to hold jobs outside of the home and still assumed a grammatical 'she' for nurses or teachers. When corrected, he would nod his head politely and say his usual 'things have changed' while whether or not he did the same entirely relied on the situation.
He still hadn't been out of ice long enough to fight with himself over the assumption that women needed to be taken care of or that the husband's job was by default to keep his wife in comfort.
In fact, it was doubtful that he ever would forget the last thought, no matter who encouraged it or how staunchly it was enforced. Sitting in the café that evening, listening to Mrs. Banner's words over cups of overpriced coffee like gossiping women was painful for that. Steve had developed some sort of tense friendship with Janet during their brief encounters that he didn't share with anyone else yet. She wasn't always nice but she had a witty mouth and a flirting smile that made him feel a little bit better for being so far behind the times. He wouldn't doubt for a second that any man married to her was luckier than he would ever know.
The thought of seeing her hurt sickened him and it sickened him even more to imagine that it had been at the hands of the arrogant jerk that she had married. Seventy-seven years ago he had been too young and too useless to help the battered woman that he knew then but now he was Captain America. If it wasn't his job to deal with this than they could have the rank back; it was personal now. He was just as strong and capable as Giant-man ever had been, if not more. He fell silent the entire time that Tony spoke just listening with disdain for the world, this wasn't a conversation that should have been public and it was blaring from every news station. It was a relief when they finally left past a great many he knew before.
Not an hour and a half after that conversation took place, Steve found himself outside of an English Pub on North Lincoln Avenue. It hadn't been as hard to find Giant-man as SHIELD had made it out to be and so he took it upon himself to bring him in...after a brief lesson in manners. As he entered the cold air-conditioned room, his eyes scanned it only briefly before he found the figure that he was searching for. The good for nothing scientist was hunched over a glass of alcohol, drinking himself into unconsciousness the way that Mr. Rogers had done so long ago. Steve felt another layer of anger added to his already impressive collection of dislike for the sorry character. He could smell the stink of whiskey on the air and it was familiar to him in a way that made his heart speed; subconsciously there was fear over the hurt of the past.
When he walked over to the figure, Hank Pym was still so engaged in his drinking and his moping that the only thing that caught his attention was the heavy hand landing on his shoulder. This time around Steve felt in control of the situation around the sullen drunkard and he tightened his grip on the shoulder as Giant-man turned his head. "A word in your ear, Doctor Pym." He growled. The closeness of the other man to his own father was reinforced when he saw the expression of abject stupidity looking back at him the way a drunk always does. He knew that the doctor wasn't stupid or slow in conversation so he could only assume this was the drink speaking for him in the manner that it so often did for men.
The drone of the television in the background was playing the ever-repeated news of spousal assault within the Ultimates and the bartender turned away when the situation struck him. "I believe the expression for that is cosmic coincidence." Steve sneered when the news casually mentioned Hank's past history of abusive relationships and addiction. He really had no pity for the man before him no matter what his mental state; the men who acted like him were enough to make Steve hate his own sex ten times over. Hank was unshaven and stank of anxiety when he looked up into the furious blue eyes of his partner. "Now step outside you piece of trash." The captain ordered without waiting for comment, pulling him upwards by his collar.
Hank couldn't believe that they would send Mr. Apple-Pie-And-Mom out after him, after everything he had done for SHIELD, after working side by side with the git. That was still okay, he tried to convince himself, he was years older than Captain America in reality, no matter which one of them had his photos all over the pages of history books. If it hadn't been for the super-soldier serum, he would have just graduated from college at this age; Hank already had a post-graduate degree. This handsome fellow couldn't even watch a PG-13 movie without blushing bright red at the love making scenes; he was just a kid. A very muscular, very angry, very well trained, testosterone pumped kid.
He could handle this, he would try to talk him down from this rage, let him hear what had really happened past what the tabloids shouted. The man was no dunce, he would understand that it had really gotten out of hand; he hadn't even been the first one to push. "For God's sake, Cap." He began, raising his hands to show that he was unarmed; surely the all American hero wouldn't hit an unarmed man. Certainly not in front of witnesses, even if their backs were turned they would hear the contact made."Will you just sit down and have a drink and let me explain what happened here?" He requested. It would work; he had heard enough stories from the Old Folks Homes to know that Captain Rogers was a good sympathetic ear to hard times during 'The War'.
Apparently he was not that night, because faster than the scientist could have imagined there was a fist colliding with his face. "I said, outside!" Steve shouted, and Hank was momentarily dizzy enough to be tossed out into the streets without any further fight. There was a glimmer of hate in the young man's eyes that the doctor read as strangely personal and he wracked him mind for the reasons while he backed up. He had grudgingly read one of the many biographies Janet had bought from the bookstore not so long ago; he wanted to be able to pull out personal details if he needed. This would have been a good time to remember anything past "Steve Rogers was born, appropriately, on the Fourth of July" but of course he didn't because he had never made it past Chapter One.
"Do you like pushing people around?" Steve shouted at him as he swung a fist towards his comrade's face. The scientist managed to doge this one, but only by a hair's width, he had a good feeling that the captain was emotional enough that any professionalism or law abiding nature was entirely forgotten. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?!" The blond shouted and as he shoved Hank into the wall behind him, he suddenly remembered something that had stuck out in that one chapter of the book. Steve Roger's father had been an alcoholic and they of course had been poverty struck; it hadn't taken him much to mock the man's upbringing to Janet. He had teased her about Steve's past life and how she just wanted to make his daddy's hurt alright till she huffed and grabbed the book away. By the look in his ally's eye; he had hit close to home.
"What kind of man beats his own wife?" Captain America demanded and he shoved Hank back into the wall again, the move banging the doctor's head hard against the building and setting black sparks in his vision. It was personal; there was no other way around it, this wasn't just his morals in action, it was true desperation. Maybe Mr. Rogers beat Mrs. Rogers, maybe Steve's daddy beat him, it didn't matter, what mattered was that to him all the tears and screaming had happened yesterday. He wasn't someone who could separate himself from the situation like the usual SHIELD agent and that made this as bad as sending Jan's own girlfriend out after him. Hell, he practically was her girlfriend with all the time they spent shopping at antique shops and visiting museums or coffee shops on Saturday mornings.
Hank caught a flying fist, cringing just enough to avoid meeting the awkwardly betrayed look on the other man's face. God, he didn't want to see the kid cry while he was beating the living Hell out of him, he didn't have the right to be as upset as he was. "Look, Captain, I'm on antidepressants!" He tried to explain, using anything he could think to trigger the man's sympathy to exist again as something past a vague memory. It wasn't a lie; life was hard and waking up every day to himself was harder and would get harder still with these memories. He'd never been right in the head and with all the stress of work and all the demands of their newly found fame, he'd blown it when Jan pushed for more. He'd blown it really big this time.
"So what are you telling me then, that you can't take it like any other man?" Steve snarled through straight white teeth and Hank pulled himself flat against the wall. He'd always hated that the man in front of him was such a God-damned heart-throb; he didn't have any real super-powers except super influenza resistance and yet he was still the media's darling. It had been long enough since he punched Hitler in the nose that things should have cooled off but yet they hadn't. Rogers would be dead meat if half of this little quarrel got out; that he was taking his own issues out on someone else than Daddy-dear entirely. Then again, that someone else did beat their wife hard enough to land her in intensive care so maybe the Conservatives would just ask him to run for President.
"Yes, that's what I'm trying to tell you!" Hank finally groaned in defeat, avoiding the look in the other's eyes still. He had to be the responsible one as usual, he had to stop this before it got any further because the last thing he needed pinned on him was bullshit rage over putting a new lean to Mr. Recruitment-poster's nose. The pretty boy soldier backed up in acceptance and for a moment Dr. Pym thought he had him figured out; he just wanted to feel in charge of the situation for once and now that he was it could all be sorted out. He 'knew' he was the alpha wolf now that he had 'put the fear of God in Pym' and he couldn't be pushed around anymore by a big scary husband. So he would let Hank roll over on his back and then just sniff his throat instead of fight.
Steve nodded his head weakly at first and then he slid his camouflage covering off, tossing it to the ground of the alley in an unceremonial fashion. "Put your hands up against the wall." He ordered coolly, the dull light catching on the shine inherent in his flamboyant costume when he put his hands on his belt. What exactly was the prick demanding? Hank wondered, looking at the man with an expression that spoke the questioning words for him. It was met with one of a more collected anger than had previously been offered. "If you can't take this like a man, you can take it like a boy." Steve explained, and his hands were on his shiny silver belt buckle then, unfastening it and pulling the leather through the loops of his pants with a sickening sound.
Giant-man was aghast by the turn of events. Was Captain Steven Rogers so bothered by his childhood that he was actually suggesting a dubiously consensual act of homosexuality would make him feel any better? He had heard a lot of things about his days in the army and a certain young Bucky Barnes but this was pressing it even for what the rumors suggested; that had been consensual after all! "Hurry up, Pym." The blond demanded and Hank slowly obliged; he'd see what Rogers wanted before they turned the situation around completely. He wouldn't let the man diddle him but an awkward fondle before he let The United States know that their favorite soldier was a closet-case? That was worth it by a long shot and so his hands were against the cold concrete of the wall without further complaint.
Steve's hands moved forward swiftly and he unfastened Giant-man's pants for him, yanking them down to his feet. That was faster than expected and not only rough but sleazy, maybe America's favorite symbol of their nation was just another fucked up soldier who had seen too much too fast. Hank hadn't expected the next movement made to be the whistle of the army issue belt cracking the air and landing against his skin. He had expected something a bit more tender. The bite of the leather startled him even more than the action; that kid was a sick fuck and for that one moment he wasn't so sure this wasn't still sexual. Not until he heard the other man speak again.
"You're a worthless liar, Doctor Hank Pym." Steve said and his voice was low with emotion, though it didn't show sign of tears the way his eyes so briefly had moments ago. The tremble was no where evident in his tone and the sharp sting of the leather belt against Hank's skin was hard to bare coming from the self-important brat. "How could you have sworn yourself under God to this woman and still walk all over her?" Hank's ability to complain was caught in his throat with that even with the burn of the belt to his lower thighs. He didn't believe in God, he never had and never would, but he did believe in his wife and the vows they had made in the court-house years ago.
The next cut of the belt against his backside hit him harder for opening himself up to the attack and he pressed his hands firmly against the uneven surface, resting his forehead against the cool building. "How are you honoring and keeping her when she's in the hospital at your own hands?!" The younger man snarled and the belt's strike was laid lower across his thighs again. Hank felt the slap as a hot blow of fire against his skin, the captain wasn't holding much back in his strikes. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood but it was hard enough that he had no doubt there would be bruises when this 'session' was over.
It might have been fair enough to let Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes deal with this in the karmic sense of things but he just hoped to any powers of mercy that existed in the chain of command that this never got out."You may have forsaken all others, but it looks to me like you've forsaken her just as easily." Steve hissed and it sounded more true to Hank's ears than he wanted it to. He would have stepped away but this level of pain at last was deserved and better than having his brains smashed out any day.
Hank squeezed his eyes shut as the blows reigned down against his skin still; hot and sharp but not nearly as bad as the words. She had stood by his side and promised him to be a faithful and obedient wife and he had promised her that he would keep her and care for her. She had fulfilled her part, at least as best as she could and he had paid her back with broken lips and blackened eyes over and over. His own eyes welled with tears and he tried to swallow them back when Steve really laid the blows down against him without reserve. They hurt, they burnt but the humiliation wasn't even weighing on his mind as much as the reaffirmation that he deserved this.
Each blow that rang down after that was met with a losing battle to keep in place and not to trip over the tangled trousers that lay at his feet. He was scrapping his hands against the wall in front of him and behind him he could hear Steve's emotions falling over the top finally. The words were blanking out to him because he could hear nothing more than his own tears and frustrated angry noises from his partner. The punishment seemed to go on forever despite the level of dissatisfaction and then just as quickly and uniformly as it had started, the hurried strapping stopped. Without wiping away his tears, Giant-man pulled his pants back up silently, zipping them and searching the pockets for a crumpled packet of tissues.
He was sore, hurt and beside himself with a new rediscovered self-deprecation, it had been a long time since he had felt anything like this that was prompted by a real life event. He would have normally been angry with Captain America for bringing it to his attention that he had been such an ass but it sounded like Steve was having enough trouble with his own breathing. He was making the motions of stopping an asthma attack thought it was without a doubt out of habit that he went through the gestures. But it was such an honest expression of his integrity that he was coughing now that Hank just watched him struggle with the physiological effects of their actions through eyes that still felt the burn of tears.
When Steve's breathing finally regulated itself, he met Hank's eyes and spoke bluntly with no more sounds of emotion than he usually displayed. The whole affair had evened this down enough that it no longer sounded like he wanted to put the man's head on a stake, instead he wanted a jury to. "You're coming back with me to base and you're going to stand trial." He informed the scientist and Hank nodded his head obediently. He highly doubted that would go through so openly but the Star-spangled Stud had to believe in something and he had chosen the system. Maybe it made up for still being alone while men like Hank still had a wife to come home to; either way Giant-man was eager to see Janet again.
It seemed she was owed more than an apology and a weak promise this time.