A/N
So, as you all pretty much know, I have no life; it belongs to this cruel dictator called school...aaaaaand ignoring that useless bit of info, I LOVE CAPTAIN AMERICA! If I ever end up caring about my own romance, he would totally be MINE! Anyways, this combined with the fact that CIVIL WAR IS FREAKING COMING OUT made me write this...what is this? Oh, good question! This is going to be a series of oneshots based on the Civil War trailer(s). Hope you enjoy!
Special thanks to the AWESOME memeteam2016 for Betaing this! Without you, I would not have had the motivation to complete this :)
Disclaimer: I don't own. If I did, I WOULD KNOW WHAT HAPPENS ALREADY T_T
Perfect Smile
When Tony was little, he wasn't a very trusting kid. It was something that had been inbred into him, a 5-year-old genius with neglectful parents. Perhaps they didn't mean to, and when Tony was younger he gave them a little slack, reasoning that his father's search for Captain America was very important and that he would be done with it soon. But 5-year-olds weren't as naive as 3-year-olds. He couldn't afford to be, not when he had to take care of himself, his parents assistants too busy to 'babysit' him. Maybe that's when the obsession had started.
The way he saw it, his relationship with his parents was broken, and he was the one who needed to fix it. So the tinkering began. It wasn't too hard to convince the staff to let him go to the innovations center every other day; he'd be out of their hair that way, and still within Stark security. The inventors were all too happy to have him there, and Tony blossomed under their tender care and instruction. Soon, he was building his first anti-aircraft missile, adding his own design inputs when he deemed it necessary.
Howard even took an interest, taking more days off to watch his son invent. Tony couldn't remember the last time his dad had even noticed something he'd done, and it only added fuel to the fire. Tony spent even more time everyday building and inventing and scheming-in his eyes, his father's attention was priceless.
Then, one day, the visits stopped. It had been 3 months since he last saw his parents; they didn't even come to see his first complete car. Tony didn't even notice until one of the workers pointed it out to him. He'd been so focused on this project, one he was sure his father would love, to even notice the time ticking by.
He began staying later, sleeping less, eating less. More inventions, they would make things better, fix everything. Even the staff started to notice his decent into whatever he was going into, forcing him to stay home some days instead of going to the lab. That didn't stop his mind from wandering, though.
Was it not enough? Why was Captain America so much more important than he was? Why didn't his parents take him with them?
Finally, after another excruciating 4 months, they came back. It was only for a day, and they were gone most of the time, but there was 1 hour that Howard dedicated to him. Him!
It was the happiest he'd felt in who knows how long, and he soaked up the undivided attention Howard gave him as he explained his inventions as of late (that the old man had missed, his mind hissed angrily). It was a nice feeling, one Tony barely recognized, and it filled him with warmth he didn't even know existed. But then time was up, and Howard was hustled out of the room, none of the adults paying attention to little Tony save the security.
But, for once, he felt good, happy even. He unconsciously began to relax, going as far as to give one of the startled caretakers a hug.
Time went by, but Tony didn't mind, happily creating and enjoying himself, so sure that his life was finally in balance.
But then the call came.
It had been an ordinary day, and he'd been just about to leave the house when one of the security heads knocked on the door. That in itself was odd since they usually just let themselves in. With a slight frown, Tony opened the door, looking up at the hulking man.
The downcast man handed Tony a box, with a scribbled 'From: Dad', and no words needed to be said. Tony sat down hard, grabbing the box and ripping off the paper. With shaky hands he popped off the lid, staring at the small metal pieces with wide eyes. It was a doll, his dad's favorite; though he would have protested that it was a 'model'. He'd never let Tony touch it, fearing the metal pieces would disintegrate at the slightest touch. It represented the core of his obsession, his guilt and determination mixed into one spangly-outfitted soldier. That alone explained everything (they were gone).
Being a genius wasn't always a gift in Tony's eyes-the German's were right-sometimes gifts were poison. This was downright manipulation, but Tony couldn't bring himself to care.
He spiraled down into a pit of self loathing and I-don't-care attitude. Outwardly, Tony emitted the typical happy-go-lucky genius, playboy, philanthropist attitude that was expected. He went to party's, he spent too much money, he made weapons. But his mind never stopped. It spiraled in circles and went back and forth, debating and growling and crying at him.
So, maybe a little money went into the Captain America search fund. Possibly. It wasn't like Fury could prove it, even if there were little spikes of money in the account, and it seemed to smooth his whining conscience. It kept him from thinking too hard, it let him forget the troubles that seemed to gravitate towards him, from caring too much, to be free from pain.
To be free from things like this.
Tony stopped his pacing, staring down at America's hero. "If we can't accept limitations, we're no better than the bad guys."
"That's not the way I see it," Steve countered, his body perfectly aligned (like the perfect soldier he was, Tony hissed in his mind).
"Sometimes I want to punch you in your perfect teeth," Tony growled, crossing his arms across his chest, almost self consciously. Steve said nothing, his eyes slowly lowering to the desk. There was no anger, no sorrow, no regret; just acceptance. And Tony's anger just boiled over.
Some people said that when anger hit them, they couldn't remember what they had done. But Tony could; every. Single. Little. Detail.
This was the man who had stolen his father away from his childhood, this was the 'perfect soldier' that had saved the world. This was the man who Tony had sworn to find, to protect since he was so important to his father. This was the guy that he'd teased about his old fashioned manner, about his lack of knowledge of simple things like the Internet. This was the guy he'd fought with, trusted, trusted with his life and his secrets. This was his friend; but it seemed that Steve didn't care about him any more.
Then fine. Fine!
The punch landed squarely across Steve's jaw, and his head whipped to the side. Tony's fist began to ache, the normal human bones shattering as they made contact with the reinforced super soldier jaw bone. Steve made no move to dodge it, and it only made Tony angrier. But Tony had lived with anger for a long time, perhaps longer than Bruce. He knew how to control it; well, most of the time.
He froze for a few seconds, breathing deeply; then he turned on a heel and walked out of the police facility, out onto the street, and straight into his suit. Ignoring the gawking civilians, he activated his repulsers and shot into the sky, pushing the suit to its limit. Seconds later he landed on Stark tower (he was no longer an Avenger) and let the spinning rims do the work, strolling into the penthouse. A stream of blood dotted his path as his knuckles cried to him, but he ignored them, making a beeline for his lab. Bruce was in Calcutta, and Pepper was out of the country at some conference, which left him alone with his thoughts.
Blue eyes seemed to haunt him and Tony brought a basket of old scraps to the table, fiddling with the rusted pieces. He was best at fixing things, always had been. But this-
The hastily constructed model fell to the floor with a crash, the pieces scattering across the marble floors. Tony stared at it, uncomprehending. Then he leaned down and gathered them into his arms, laying them across the table.
-this was not something he could fix.
As he left the room, he could feel the Captain America doll staring after him.
A/N
Gift in German means poison. I thought it added a nice touch :) (especially since I'm trying-emphasis on trying-to learn the language).
Kisses!
Alyss