Notes: This work takes place in the universe established in the fic "We Come Together (Just As We Are)." If you have not read that fic, please read that first, because this 'verse will not make sense otherwise. This AU is set in the MCU (Earth-199999) and references other non-film works within the series, primarily characters from the television shows Agent Carter and Agents of SHIELD. No prior knowledge of either television show is required to understand this fic.

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

First Meetings (And We're Together)

Jim Rhodes

The August heat was sticky on Tony's neck. He could feel the sweat beginning to run down his temples and resisted the urge to wipe it away. His hands were full from carrying a small refrigerator up three flights of stairs, and he knew that if he tried to readjust his grip, he would drop his cargo (likely on his toes) and that would not make Aunt Peggy feel very confident about letting him go off to college so young. Heaving in a deep breath, Tony tried to redistribute the weight as he teetered through the narrow doorway leading out of the stairwell and into a perfectly generic hallway.

Just as he'd crossed over the threshold, Tony slammed his toe into a rogue suitcase that hadn't been cleared out of the way. He cursed, shifted, and felt the mini-fridge slowly slide out of his delicate grasp.

Before it could hit the ground, however, a pair of hands shot around the mini-fridge and grasped the other side, preventing the machine from smashing to the ground. "Got it?" Tony's rescuer said, poking his head over the side of the refrigerator with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah," Tony said, his pride slightly bruised.

The guy flashed him a brilliant smile and said, "What room? I'll help you move it down the hall."

"Uh…" Tony checked the number written on the back of his hand in Aunt Angie's curly penmanship. "311?"

If anything, the guy's smile got even wider. For a moment, Tony couldn't tell if he was in a college dorm or a commercial for whitening toothpaste. He almost felt self-conscious about his own teeth, which he knew had permanent coffee stains despite his dedicated brushing. "Hey, that's with me!" the guy said, turning to walk backward down the hallway holding his end of the refrigerator. "Are you Anthony's brother?"

Tony shot him a wry smile. "Not quite. You must be James?"

"Call me Jim," the guy said. "Or Rhodes. Or Rhodey. Take your pick. Just don't pick James."

Tony nodded politely. "Then you should call me Tony," he said. "Or Carter. Either works."

This time Rhodey was the one who almost dropped the refrigerator. "You?" he said incredulously. "No offense, I mean, but… you're Anthony Carter? How… how old are you, exactly?"

Tony sighed. "Fifteen. And yes, I know, I'm young to be going to college. Trust me, I've been told."

Rhodey shook his head wonderingly. "No, man, no offense at all. It's impressive, that's all. Here we go."

Arriving outside the door to room 311, they set the refrigerator down, and Rhodey fumbled with his key before slotting it into the door and pushing it open. Leading the way into the room, Rhodey swept his arms open in welcome. "Taa-daa!" he said with verve. "The presidential suite! Just got here myself, so I haven't started unpacking yet. Mama Rhodes still has a ton more stuff in her car."

The room was barren and perfectly neutral. The walls were made of cinderblocks painted off-white and the furniture – bed frames, closets, desks, and chairs – were all made of light tan oak wood. The linoleum floor was gray and looked dingy, even though Tony knew it must have been cleaned before they moved in.

"Delightful," he quipped to hide his apprehension. "Five stars."

Rhodey shrugged. "Haven't picked a bed yet, so you can choose. Or we can bunk, if you want. Oh, I almost forgot." He stuck out his hand politely, and Tony was so nervous he almost forgot what to do with it. After a brief moment of stillness, he remembered, and, jolted out of his reverie, he clasped it and shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you, Tony," Rhodey said.

"Nice to meet you," Tony replied.

Jane Foster

He was going to invent levitation boots, Tony decided. The walk across the campus green was far too long and tedious, especially after a rain shower had liquefied the dirt into an uncomfortable groggy mud. Tony's black shoes squelched into the ground as he took another step, and the man forced back a cry of dismay. His shoes would be filthy.

The sky above him was still gray and ominous, but at least the rain had managed to stop. He was almost to the building in question anyway – Pierpont Hall, home of Culver University's astronomy department. With one final, horrifying squishing noise, Tony stepped on to solid ground. Dragging his shoes as he walked to try and kick off some of the fresh mud, he approached the doors to the building and pulled out his phone to call Dr. Selvig so he could be let in.

A few minutes later, a chipper young woman with huge eyes and an infectious grin opened the door for him and escorted him inside. "Jane Foster," she said, sticking out her hand in greeting. "I'm one of Dr. Selvig's doctoral research assistants."

Tony shook her hand in return. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Foster. I'm Dr. Carter, though I'm sure you already knew that."

Jane laughed brightly. She was so young, Tony thought with a start. He knew what his students at Columbia looked like, of course, but something in Jane's enthusiasm was so unabashedly childish, Tony found himself feeling more excited about the work ahead as well.

"Call me Jane," she said, pulling open a door and guiding Tony down a long hallway towards Dr. Selvig's lab. "Everyone does. When I have to TA, it makes me feel ancient if my students call me Ms. Foster."

"Jane, then," Tony said politely. "Have you been working with Dr. Selvig very long?"

Jane nodded, and her long ponytail bounced cheerfully. "Ever since I came here as an undergrad. I was probably too inexperienced to be doing the research I was doing, but Dr. Selvig never tried to stop me. He guided me when I failed over and over until I learned the answers I was looking for." She beamed proudly. "Now I'm writing my dissertation on my work on Einstein-Rosen Bridges."

Tony gave a low whistle. "Impressive," he said. "Hell of a research topic."

"Dr. Selvig and I are working together on it. I think that's why he wanted to consult with you, actually," Jane said. "Your publication on using particle accelerators to create black holes in order to study higher dimensions in the fabric of space-time was revolutionary. If your theories are right, then we may be able to create miniature Einstein-Rosen bridges inside the Large Hadron Collider, which would be definitive proof of their existences outside of mere relativistic hypotheses."

Tony blinked. This girl was brighter than his entire research team put together. "How come I've never heard of your work before?" he said after a moment.

Jane shrugged. "Never published it. I just feel like I'm so close to finding the evidence I need to support my hypothesis. If I publish before I find it, no one will take me or my research seriously."

Tony eyed her curiously. "Well then," he said after a moment, "let's get to work."

Phil Coulson

The hospital was cold and sterile. The white walls, white linoleum floors, and white cloth partitions grated at Tony's patience. It was bright under the fluorescent lighting, and the effect was only made worse by the way the light reflected off the sterile surfaces.

Tony's chest hurt like a bitch.

He supposed that it made sense, of course. Having the arc reactor keeping him alive literally ripped out of his chest had sucked, but feeling the tiny pieces of diamond-sharp shrapnel inching their way through his heart was far worse. He felt like he had been shredded from the inside out. He'd gone into cardiac arrest twice, and had only survived because Aunt Angie had kept his prototype reactor after he'd make it back stateside. "I lost Peg and Mandy and Jack," she had said with a quavering voice. "I refuse to lose you too."

Obadiah was dead now. Tony supposed that the man deserved it, but when he thought about the man's falling figure being obliterated by a rush of flame and smoke, he couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. He wasn't a killer, he told himself. Obi had forced him to do it. Obi was the one who had tried to have him assassinated in the first place.

The memory of burning metal and flesh wafting through the air made him gag, but he had already vomited up everything he had inside of him. Escaping the Ten Rings had been bad enough, but Yinsen had just died and Tony had operated on pure rage and vengeance then. This was different. This had been a fight for survival.

All because Obi had found Howard's real will.

If he'd just burned it and gone on with his life, then maybe it wouldn't have come to this. But Obi hadn't known how many copies there were of the will. He had to ensure that no matter what happened, his iron rule over Stark Industries could not be questioned.

There was a light rap on the door. A moment later, the white curtain surrounding his white bed was drawn back, and a man Tony had never seen before stepped inside the partition's boundaries.

"Hey, uh, wrong person," Tony said, eyeing the man closely. He was not wearing scrubs or any sort of hospital uniform, but a too-large suit and a pair of scuffed brown Oxfords.

The man gave him a sideways smile. "Not quite," he said. "My name is Phil Coulson." He extended his hand to Tony, who shook it warily. "I'm a representative from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

"Well I'll be damned."

Phil raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You know us?"

"Of course I know you. And I'm sure you know me too, which is why you shouldn't be surprised that I know you."

"That's some circular logic there," Phil said.

"But am I wrong?"

Phil sighed and moved to take a seat in the plastic chair next to Tony's bed. "You're not. We… saw your fight with Stane."

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. "Pretty hard to miss," he quipped, fighting against the wave of nausea that the memories brought.

"Exactly." Phil pressed one palm to his temple and rubbed it. "Hell of a headache for everyone involved. Especially since…"

"Since Aunt Peggy isn't around anymore. Right."

"I'm sorry." He actually sounded sincere.

Tony grunted noncommittally. "What can I help you with then?"

Coulson eyed him appraisingly. "The world wants to know who the Iron Man is. That's the name the media's given you, by the way."

"It's gold-titanium alloy."

"Well then, listen, Gold-Titanium Alloy Man. The media wants to know who you are. We can try to bury it. We can give you an airtight alibi. But when Stark Industries does an internal investigation… it's going to be hard to work around whatever their inevitable conclusions may be. So you need to decide whether or not you're going to go public about your identity."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Tony sank further into the sad, flat pillow on his bed. "Can I let you know?" he said. "I have to talk to my family before I decide what to do. They're as much a part of this as I am. Hell, I'm the reason…" Tony trailed off, leaving the rest of his sentence unspoken. Phil seemed to know what he was trying to say.

The man offered him a faint, polite smile. "Take your time to decide. Within reason, of course. I'll leave my card." He set a small business card on the table beside Tony's bed and rose to leave. After a moment, he turned back and said, "Peggy Carter was a good woman. She would be proud of you."

Tony blinked back the tears welling in the corners of his eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Agent Coulson," he said.

Coulson nodded at me. "Call me Phil," he said, and then he was gone.

Melinda May

Culver University was in disarray. More than usual, anyway. A frantic phone call from Dr. Selvig had sent Tony dashing in to the middle of an impossible conflict. The gigantic green monster currently destroying the campus was definitely a new encounter, even by Tony's standards. Fighting terrorists and accidentally becoming a superhero? He could accept that as being a part of his everyday life. But fighting angry aliens? That was a bit above his pay grade.

(Considering that he worked for free, the bar wasn't set that high, but that was beside the point.)

Dr. Selvig couldn't have known that Tony was Iron Man, of course. No one did but Aunt Angie and Phil Coulson. And the people Coulson worked for, Tony supposed. Tony had been intending to visit Dr. Selvig to follow up on some research they'd done together, but instead he'd received a phone call warning him not to come in. Naturally, he'd come in anyway, because he was Tony Carter, and that's what he did. If his friends were in danger, he needed to help in the only way he knew how.

The problem, however, was that Tony didn't have the Iron Man suit with him. It was still neatly stored in his workshop back at home in New York. This had originally been a work trip, after all. Nonetheless, as he sprinted to hide in the shadows of a still-standing academic building, Tony's eyes focused on the monstrosity several yards away, his mind quickly charting the swiftest course from his current location to Pierpont Hall, where Dr. Selvig had been working.

Hearing a loud, gasping breath behind him, Tony whirled around to find himself facing an Asian woman clad all in black, several guns holstered on her hips. The woman held a finger to her lips, and Tony nodded, turning back to keep an eye on the monster, which seemed to single-handedly be decimating military forces. "Are you military?" he asked quietly.

"No," the woman said. "Just a concerned citizen."

"A well-armed concerned citizen, I see," Tony quipped, but he couldn't keep his voice from trembling as the monster across the lawn roared.

"Yes." The woman's face had darkened. Her stoicism, Tony realized, was only being maintained with the last threads of control she had.

"What's your plan?" he asked her cautiously.

The woman frowned at him. "I need to get to Kirkbride Hall. My ex-hus… someone I care about works there. It's right next to the library. I saw them shooting tear gas over there. Maybe something worse. I don't know." She shook her head violently, as if to clear away all of her doubts and uncertainties. "I don't… I don't…"

"Hey, hey, shhhh, it's fine," Tony said, awkwardly placing a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'm trying to get to friends of mine too. Maybe if we – oh, shit!"

The woman glanced up sharply, the anxiety on her face quickly disappearing behind a cool, analytical mask. "What is it?" she said, her voice suddenly tight.

"Look." Tony pointed to where the army was rolling out new weaponry against the monster. "Sonic cannons. We need to go. Now."

"Roger," the woman said. "Stay on my left. I got your six." She unholstered one of her guns and extended it to him. "Ever fired one of these?"

"Yes," Tony said, taking it from her and turning it over in the palm of his hand. He decided not to tell the woman that he'd only ever shot a gun in a firing range, not in real combat. "I'm Tony, by the way," he added as an aside.

"Melinda," the woman said, clicking the safety off on her own gun. "Let's move."

Steve Rogers

The sound of a knock on the door rang throughout the large midtown apartment. "Got it!" Danny shouted from the living room. A few seconds later, he shouted, "Uncle Tony! It's for you! Your… friend?... Phil, is here!"

Putting down his latest project, Tony took off his gloves and goggles before running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. When he stepped out of his workshop and into the living room, he saw Danny hovering awkwardly by the door and gave him a gentle smile. "Thanks Dan," he said, ruffling the boy's hair before turning to face Phil Coulson… and a guest, apparently. "Danny, can you watch Sophie while I talk to our guests?" he said to the boy, who nodded and turned to run down the hall to his sister's bedroom.

"Hi, Phil, how are you?" he said politely, shaking Phil's hand in greeting.

Phil shrugged. "Could be better."

"Glad to hear it." Tony took a step back and gestured for Phil and his companion to step inside. "Did you phone a friend today?"

Phil gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, I probably should have… well, Tony, this is Steve. Steve Rogers."

From behind them came the sound of shattering glass. All three men turned to face the kitchen where the noise had originated. Hovering in the middle of the aisle was Angie Martinelli, her hand extended as though she were still holding her teacup, which had long since shattered on the floor. "Are you bloody kidding me?" she said, still barely moving. "Steve Rogers? The Steve Rogers? You're him?"

Phil winced. "Yes. This is the Steve Rogers."

Angie gawked at them all. "But why does he look the same?" she asked, seemingly feeling for words to fill the awkward void.

"It's a long story," Phil said, rubbing his temples. "We should probably…" He gestured to the living room.

Nodding, Tony took a few steps forward and slung his arm around Aunt Angie's shoulders. Guiding her to the couch, he sat down beside her, still holding her close. Phil followed and took a seat on a chair opposite them, setting several files in manila envelopes down on the coffee table between them. Steve, however, did not follow. Instead, he was moving to pick up each of the pieces of broken ceramic by hand, carefully arranging them in his palm before pouring them out into the garbage can. Even as he flinched when he cut himself on the sharp edges, blood welling up in the shallow cuts, Tony could see the skin stitching itself back together, healing so that by the time he was done, Steve's hand looked like it had never been hurt. It was eerie to behold.

When the man finally took a seat in the chair next to Phil, Phil cleared his throat nervously. "Tony, this conversation is top secret and really should be held in private."

Tony stared him down. "And you really think Aunt Angie is a security risk?"

"Well…" Phil seemed to be floundering. "The policy…"

"Uncle Tony!" From the hallway, Sophie came bounding across the room, her hair tied back in a long fishtail braid. Behind her, Danny was running, trying to grab his younger sister.

"Sorry!" he said, catching up to the girl and picking her up easily. "I told her you had people over so she shouldn't interrupt but…"

"I wanna say hi!" Sophie said, giggling like it was the best joke she'd ever heard. "Hi!" she added with a jaunty wave.

Tony watched as Steve's face, which had been tense and vaguely constipated, split into a wide grin. "Hi!" he said, waving back. It was the first word Tony had heard him say, and he was surprised that his voice was much higher-pitched than he'd expected.

"See? Told you," Sophie said, still wrestling against Danny's grasp.

"Yes, yes, you've said hello," Tony said. "Thank you for being so polite. But now I need to talk about business with our guests –" He gestured to Phil and Steve. "– so we need some privacy, okay? Danny will play with you until we're done."

Sophie pouted but allowed Danny to wrestle her back to her bedroom. As they went down the hall, Tony heard Danny offer to play dolls with Sophie, and he couldn't help but smile fondly.

"Are they…?" Steve asked awkwardly.

"Mine? No," Tony said. "They're my sister's. Took them in when she died a few years ago." He grinned. "They're really great kids."

"They seem great," Steve agreed politely.

Angie coughed loudly. "Sorry," she said, "but are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room here? You're really Steve bloody Rogers? Captain America? From World War II?"

Steve smiled wryly. "In the flesh."

Turning back to Phil, Tony said, "Phil, what the hell's going on here? And before you complain about it, anything you have to say to me, you have to say it in front of her too." He gestured to Angie.

Phil groaned. "Damn it, Carter. You always make my life so difficult. You know SHIELD regulations state –"

"And you know exactly who Angie is too. She probably knows secrets that are above your own clearance level, Agent."

Steve had frozen. "Hold on," he said. "Carter? I don't suppose… no, there's no way, it's such a common name…"

"If you're asking about Peggy Carter, then yes, I do know her," Tony said. "And I know about you, too. She told me quite a lot about you, Captain." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Steve and was pleased to see the man turn a shade of red rivalling a tomato.

"Really? I mean… are you family, or…?"

"Her son," Tony said. "Well, adopted son, but let's not get caught up in semantics. She and Aunt Angie here were responsible for the good half of my childhood."

Steve looked at his hands. "Then… do you know…?"

"She's… gone," Angie said quietly. "Passed away a few years ago. I'm sorry, honey."

Steve shook his head as though he were clearing it. He took in a shuddering breath and looked up to meet Tony's eyes. "It's fine," he said quietly. "It's been so long since… well, I kind of figured… with her age and all, it would have been…"

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After all, it hadn't been old age that had taken Peggy Carter to the grave. She had been defending him from the Ten Rings when they attacked the family and kidnapped Tony four years prior. He settled for murmuring a demure "yeah" in agreement before turning to Phil, carefully avoiding Steve's steady, piercing gaze. "So, what's going on?"

Phil sighed wearily. "We have a situation. An Avengers-level situation. And we need Iron Man."

As Tony listened to the details of the situation at hand with one ear, he couldn't help but be distracted by the way Steve Rogers was staring at him like he'd seen a ghost. When Phil was done explaining and Tony had agreed to help, he shook both of the men's hands and escorted them to the door.

"Rogers," he said as Steve moved to step outside into the hall. "I think we might need to have a conversation."

Steve nodded vaguely. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I think we might."

Notes: This work is not a direct sequel to "We Come Together (Just As We Are)." Rather, I consider it an interlude to show Tony's interactions with the outside world and establish who he is as an adult leading up to the events of the first Avengers movie. I am very much enjoying writing stories in this AU, so while I have no formal plans thus far of an overarching plot, more fics may be posted that take place in this 'verse that will allow me to continue playing in my sandbox.

As always, comments and reviews are appreciated! Your feedback is what excites me to write more stories, so if you want more of this universe, let me know!