Author's Note: This is my first Avengers fanfiction. It's Stony. And, yes, it's slash.
I'm actually not sure where this is going. I have a vague idea in my head. I usually plan out my fanfictions and their plots. I didn't with this one. I just... wrote. My hand itched to write some Capsicle/Iron Man. This is what came of it and I thought I'd post it here.
This will be a multi-chaptered fanfiction. I try to update at least once a week on my other multi-chaptered fanfiction, but this might be different. This was written because I felt the need to write it. So, I'm sorry, but the chapters will probably be updated intermittently.
As a side note, James most likely won't be an important character. I just needed him to get the story started. You might see a bit more of him, but he won't be a main character.
Polite, constructive criticism is always welcome. It helps me write more efficiently!
Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any places and/or characters associated with the series.
Steve had always been one to stand up for the little guy, the bullied, the ones who didn't stand a chance. He had been a part of those people once. He had been small, fragile, and frugal. He still had fought anyway, until his bony fists were stained with blood.
And then the serum came. He was a super soldier. He was strong. He was able. He could help those who didn't have a chance: those picked on because they couldn't fight back. He could help those who were like how he'd once been.
So that's what he did. He stood up for those in need and helped wherever he could. He knew he had saved quite a few lives—no matter if the lives would've been taken by bullies or by suicide. Not that there's much of a difference, he thought. A life saved is a life saved. He smiled at the thought of those who he had kept alive. Of course, suicide is often caused by bullying. So the life would've been taken by bullies either way. He frowned.
I wish I could save them all. But bullies are too numerous for the heroes. Heroes are far and few in between. He just wished that others would realise what he had: every life counts. No matter how big or small, fragile or able, every one counts: every darn one.
In the seventy years he had been under, humanity still didn't seem to understand that.
Tony found the boy lying abandoned in an alleyway.
He was flying back from a mission—S.H.I.E.L.D. business; top secret—still in his Iron Man suit and everything. He happened to glance down as he was flying and saw the beaten, battered, bloody boy lying there. He wasn't sure if the boy was dead or not. But he had to check. It could save the boy's life.
Tony raced to where he was lying. He faintly saw a chest rising and falling—the boy was breathing, but only barely. Tony knew he had to help him.
He walked slowly towards the victim, who looked about seventeen and was looking at him in terror. His eyes were widened and he looked horrified, blood dripping from his split lip and the huge gash on his forehead.
"I'm a friend. I don't want to hurt you. I want to get you some help. Please. Let me help you." Tony tried to reassure the teenager. The boy shook his head furiously, and too late did Tony realise the teen wasn't looking at him in terror.
Tony turned slowly to come face to face with a giant. This guy was tremendously large and had an evil smirk on his face that could probably curdle dairy. He had a white scar that went from his right temple down to his bottom lip that marred his otherwise handsome face—well, handsome excluding the evil smirk.
Tony now understood why the small teenager was terrified. It was obvious that this giant had been the one who abused him. And he looked like he was about ready to use Tony as his next punching bag.
Fortunately, Tony and his suit of iron had other plans.
The bully was crying at the end of their encounter. He had been scolded and screamed at while his butt was being kicked. Tony could tell by the tears streaming down the guy's face and violent sobs being emitted that he had learned his lesson.
He doubted the giant would be picking on anyone else any time soon.
Triumphantly, he watched the man limp off and then turned to help the battered boy he had stood up for. The poor boy looked as if a bludgeon had been taken to him.
Tony quickly bent down to scoop the small boy up in his arms to take him to the nearest hospital.
"You got a name, kid?"
"My name's James."
"Nice to meet you, James. Now let's get you to a doctor."
"Iron Man?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For saving me, I mean. I thought I was going to die in that alleyway."
"Well, we can't have that, now can we?"
James smiled, teeth red from the blood. He seemed genuinely thankful.
Tony knew he'd have tons of paperwork and explaining to do once he dropped off a beaten kid at the hospital, but seeing someone that grateful for him was worth it. This was what being a superhero was all about. This was why he agreed to join the Avengers Initiative—not that he'd ever admit it, of course.
Steve couldn't believe what he just saw. Tony, a stuck-up, snarky, sarcastic narcissist, had just saved a boy from death by bully. When he saw Tony standing up for that kid—a kid that reminded Steve a bit of himself as a teenager, and named James, no less—he saw the billionaire in a whole new light. He saw the man as Tony, not Stark. He saw the man as something more than money. He saw a man with a heart.
And the feelings for that man Steve thought he had succeeded in suppressing came flooding back.