Disclaimer: Avengers are property of Marvel and Disney just borrowing!
Story: Captain Tony Stark has found himself in a strange time and place. Billionaire, genius Steve Rogers has no idea what to do with a man from the past. Together perhaps they can teach each other a little about the past and future.
Author's Note: PLEASE READ FIRST! So I'm back! With another story that may very well send some people up the wall, but that's what I like to do push the boundaries of the fan fic world. So in an effort to minimize some of the backlash I'm going to get, I am warning you right now.
THIS IS A REVERSAL FAN FIC TONY AND STEVE ARE SWITCHING!
If that does not appeal to you then please read no further, if you are intrigued then by all means read on.
Big thank you to my beta ravingbeauty for looking this over, that's right beta'd my friends! Enjoy!
That Has Such People
Part I – It is not in the starts to hold out destiny but in ourselves.
New York - 1943
With brow furrowed and tongue protruding, his lean well-worn fingers gripped the pencil, firmly dragging it across the page. Blending lines and shadows expertly, a form began to take shape on paper – tall and broad, one arm braced on a hip, the other poised in a smart salute, a cocky grin playing about perfect lips.
"Stark!" a harried voice called out, startling the man holding the pencil. He hastily stood, hurrying to follow the man who'd called him. Nervously pushing thick glasses back up his nose, he quickly came to a halt before a man in a lab coat, who was frowning at his file.
"Stark, Anthony E. Family?" the man asked, blandly looking down at him.
Anthony – or Tony, as he preferred – straightened to his full five feet and five inches, hoping to look larger than he was.
"Only a brother, sir," he said, meeting the man square in the eye.
Humming, the recruiter looked down again, "How did your father die?"
"Car accident," he replied promptly.
"Mother?"
"Same accident," he said dryly.
Unimpressed, the man eyed him once more, looking over his woefully scrawny frame. "Look kid, you're ineligible on your asthma alone."
"Sir," he tried, but the doctor was already lifting that damned stamp. Tony began to panic. Not again, please not again... "Please," he protested weakly, trying not to let the desperation edge his voice.
The man brought the stamp down with a finality that set Tony's teeth on edge. "I'm saving your life, Stark," he said, grimly closing the file with a dismissive shrug.
Tony Stark clenched his small fists fruitlessly and turned, thrusting his chin in the air as he walked resolutely back to his clothing. His face betrayed none of his anguish until he was once more on the street, among the harried rush of people.
Unseeing, he jammed his hands in his pockets, letting his feet take him slowly away from the recruitment office where young, keen-eyed, long-limbed youths hurried in and out. Venting his frustrations on an innocent rock, he kicked it into the street. Moments later he had to dance out of the way of a group of kids yelling and screaming in their game of war.
War.
The whole damn world was at war. Well, all except him. Today marked his fifth rejection. He could already hear Howard's exasperated tone ringing in his ears.
"I told you, Tony…"
Sighing, he ran a frustrated hand through dark brown locks, unconsciously sliding his glasses back up his nose. As his dark eyes finally took in his surroundings, he realized he stood before the movie house. Shrugging, he decided he'd might as well; it wasn't like he had anywhere better to be, and he'd do about anything to put off seeing Howard's I-told-you-so face.
-#-#-#-
His head rang as he collided with the trashcan with a resounding clang. Groaning in pain he heaved himself to his feet, raising his fists gamely.
The bigger man smiled at him, lashing out again as he barked out an order, "Stay down."
Tony tasted blood. Grinning, he rolled to his feet as his hands grabbed up the closest thing to him. Holding a trashcan lid before him, he waited, cursing his own stupid mouth. It wasn't the first time someone had licked him in an alley and it probably wouldn't be the last… He just didn't know when to quit.
His flimsy shield was ripped from his hands as another jab sent him crumpling to the ground. Tony huffed out a pained laugh as he shakily rose to his knees once more. Once upright, he staggered a moment before he found his footing. Then a cocky grin crept across his face, "That all you got?"
Angry, the man looked ready to punch his ticket permanently when suddenly he was the one hitting the ground. Surprised, Tony blinked, taking a moment to register the new figure in the alley.
"Rhodey?" he gasped as a smile stretched across his face.
"Your mouth getting you into trouble again, Tony?" Rhodey teased, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Tony grinned as he brushed himself off, vainly trying to straighten his appearance before he gave his best friend a once over. Noting the uniform, he felt his heart twist. "You get your orders?" he asked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
Puffing out his chest, James Rhodes nodded, "Shipping out tomorrow."
A confusing tangle of emotions rolled through the other man, his dark eyes dropping away from his friend guiltily. "I should be going with you," he whispered through tightly clenched teeth.
Eyes softening, James shook his head. "Come on, Tony. I promised Howard I'd come get you," he said as he threw a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders and led them out of the alley.
"Where are we going anyway?" Tony asked, resigned.
Rhodes grinned, "To the future."
Groaning, Tony reluctantly followed his friend as they wound their way towards the packed World's Expo. It was a glittering showcase of all the latest and greatest from the most brilliant minds of the century – including his brother, Howard Stark.
Only Tony's mind wasn't on his brother's work; it was anywhere but. Everywhere he went there were men in uniform, men proudly serving. Why wouldn't they let him? Angry and frustrated, he barely registered the raucous applause of the crowd, Rhodey among them. As his friend stared in wide-eyed amazement, watching Howard wow the crowd, Tony took the opportunity to slip away.
Weaving his way through the crowd, Tony paused outside a recruitment booth to look disgustedly at his too small reflection. Quickly looking away from himself, he moved to step inside.
"Tony, why are you doing this?" James was by his side again, looking at him sadly.
Tony made no move to look at him, "I have to, James. I just… have to."
Sighing, Rhodey reluctantly nodded and held out a hand to his best friend. Tony grasped it, shaking firmly. "Good luck, Tony."
Nodding the smaller man finally looked up, offering his friend a half smile, "I'll see you soon, Rhodey."
The men parted as Tony headed into the office, going through the motions all over again, knowing the process by heart by now. This time it was different, though; the recruiter told him to wait.
Freezing, Tony swallowed thickly as he scooted off the cot and hurried to dress, wondering how much trouble he was in. It was illegal to lie on an enlistment form. Now dressed, he peaked out, watching as an MP positioned himself outside the curtains. Tony grimaced; he was really in trouble. His mind began conjuring up different terrible scenarios. Sure he was about to thrown in jail, he watched nervously as a man in a lab coat entered the room.
"Pleased to meet you, Anthony… Stevens," the older man spoke in a heavily accented voice. Then he gave Tony a wry smile over the top of the file, "Or should I say Stark?"
Tony felt his blood turn to ice. "I, umm… I…" he stuttered, voice failing him.
"Don't worry, Anthony. You are in no trouble here. I am Doctor Erskine."
The flood of relief was quickly followed by total confusion. What the hell was going on?
"So, you want to kill Nazis?" the doctor continued, looking at him steadily, his expression betraying nothing.
Tony shifted uncomfortably. The right answer must be that he absolutely wanted to kill Nazis – only that wasn't true. He slowly straightened to look the doctor in the eyes. Setting his jaw firmly, he gave his answer, "No, sir. I don't really want to kill anyone."
The doctor cocked a curious brow, "Then why try so hard to enlist?"
Tony shrugged, a self-conscious smile pulling at his lips, "My brother says it's because I have more courage than common sense."
Doctor Erskine smiled widely.
-#-#-#-
"No. Absolutely not," Howard said flatly.
Tony frowned. "Why not?" he demanded, trying to tramp down his mounting frustration, reminding himself yet again that he did in fact love his brother.
"Look, Tony. This… this project, it's not… it's…" Howard tried before trailing off with a frown. As he glared at the younger, smaller man across his worktable, his hazel eyes taking in the slight, but damnably determined frame of his brother. Tony had always had a weak constitution; petite and frail, he had a laundry list of medical issues that guaranteed he'd never see the battlefield.
Or so Howard had thought.
"It's not what?" Tony pressed, crossing skinny arms, pinning his brother with dark eyes that peered over thick glasses.
The inventor floundered; whenever it came to his younger brother, he had always had a soft spot.
"Look Howard, Doctor Erskine is offering me a chance – a chance to do something, to be something." Determined, he looked at his brother, willing him to understand. He needed to do this.
"Tony, there are too many variables, the complexities of this project alone…" Howard trailed off. He wanted Tony to understand, to realize the ramifications of his decision. "There's a good chance this will never work."
Tony smiled at him with a half twist of his lips. "I believe in the Doc, and you," he said firmly, and Howard realized with an increasing sense of worry that he had already lost this argument. Tony was stubborn as they came; when he made his mind up there was no changing it.
"You, Joe, Doctor Erskine… you are going to do amazing things. I just want to be part of it."
Howard watched nonplussed as Tony turned to leave, his slight frame standing straight. As his younger brother walked out of the lab, Howard slowly sunk onto one of the stools surrounding his worktable. Head falling to his hands, he smiled humorlessly, "I think you're the one who's going to do great things, Tony."
-#-#-#-
"How mad is he?" Tony asked softly, eyes watching the familiar city roll by the car windows.
"He isn't mad, Tony – he's just worried about you. Besides, I think you have more pressing issues to worry about, don't you?" a familiar voice mused.
Grinning slightly, Tony turned to look at his companion, Miss Virginia Potts, his brother's beautiful and more than competent assistant. Tony was sure he'd loved her since he'd met her.
"I guess," he replied, trying to ignore the heat crawling up his neck. He reminded himself yet again that he was a hyperopic ninety-pound asthmatic; what would a gal like Pep see in him?
But it didn't stop him from wondering what it would have been like if things were different… if he was different. A self-deprecating grin pulled at his features; he guessed he would never know. After all, there was a good chance he would die today.
Tony was still trying to come to terms with the fact the Doc picked him. There had been so many others at boot camp, and they had all been better, stronger. Hell, he wouldn't have chosen him, and yet they had.
"Tony," the beloved melodic voice called, drawing his attention back to the present. "If anyone was meant for this, it's you," Pepper smiled at him, trailing off as the car parked and the driver got out to hold the door.
Tony followed her out, pulling his cap back on as he looked at the unassuming antique shop before them. Briskly Pepper turned, high heels clicking as she led them inside. Once again fighting the heat rising on his neck, Tony followed as they navigated their way through the secret passage and down into the large underground lab.
Tony was suitably impressed at the size of the operation. Automatically he clasped his hands behind his back, a rule when going into Howard's lab. He'd learned long ago the dangers of touching things when he had no idea what they did, no matter how interesting they looked.
Around him he watched smartly uniformed men and women running around, moving with purpose. On the far side of the room, he spotted Howard and Joe going over some rather complicated looking machinery.
Suddenly Doctor Erskine was before him. "How are you feeling today, Tony?" he asked, smiling at the smaller man.
Shrugging, the dark haired man offered him a tight, nervous grin. "Not bad, considering."
The doctor chuckled and stepped back to converse with several of the assistants while Howard stepped forward, expression drawn and worried.
"You sure about this, Tony?" Howard asked softly, holding out the vain hope that his brother would change his mind.
Tony nodded firmly, handing over his cap and glasses. Sighing, Howard accepted them, trying to hide his worry.
"And the shirt," Erskine called.
Nodding, Tony unbuttoned his uniform and handed it over before shrugging out of his undershirt as well. Howard silently accepted the garments before offering his brother a sickly grin and a friendly clap on the shoulder, "Good luck, Tony."
Tony staggered under the friendly pat, giving his brother a half-hearted glare. "Remember that time when we were kids and you wanted me to test out that new helmet you were working on, and you managed to singe off my eyebrows?"
Howard cracked a smile, "Yes."
Tony glanced meaningfully at Erskine and the machine. "I'd better have eyebrows at the end of this."
Snorting, Howard made his way back to the console while Tony turned his attention to another familiar face, his brother's right hand man. "You in on this too, Joe?" he teased the blond man.
Joseph Rogers gave him an encouraging smile, "Wouldn't miss this for the world."
Tony returned the smile, "Make sure he doesn't mess anything up, alright?" he said as he stepped onto the platform beside Dr. Erskine, who gestured for him to lie down in the machine. Swallowing down his nerves, Tony was about to comply when he paused, remembering something. He hesitated a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Smiling crookedly, he handed it over.
Perplexed, Erskine frowned and looked at him before unfolding the worn paper. It revealed a picture, a drawing, of a hero from a comic book. The unknown figure had only the barest traces of a face, but it was obvious his smile was self-assured, his salute jaunty. The doctor's intelligent gray eyes looked up at the artist, an eyebrow arching in question.
Tony sat on the machine, shifting his skinny frame to lie down, "Just in case this doesn't work, at least you'll have your hero."
Chuckling, the man tucked the picture away before picking up a syringe and vial. After gently swabbing thin skin, the Doc expertly injected the slender man.
"That wasn't so bad," Tony huffed shakily.
"That was only the antibiotics," Erskine returned, amused.
Tony managed a sickly grin as the chamber was sealed. His blood pounded in his ears.
"Ok in there?" the Doc called.
"Suppose it's too late to use the bathroom then?" Tony joked back.
Swallowing, Tony glanced up at the small window above his head, wondering just what this was going to -
Tony's thoughts broke off as pain ripped through his body. Every nerve fiber screamed in agony. Panting, Tony bit his lip to stop from crying out, only to taste blood. Another blinding wave of pain had his back arching as a yell was ripped from this throat. Outside he could vaguely hear Howard, Pepper, and Erskine yelling for the machine to be shut down.
Tony clenched his jaw. "NO!" he bellowed, "I can do this!"
Panting, he felt sweat trickle down his back. He could do this; the pain was blinding, but he wasn't about to quit now. Firmly he gritted his teeth and hoped to God that the blessed blackness dancing just outside his periphery would claim him. Muscle and skin pulled, bones ground, and just when he was sure he could take no more, that surely he was going to pull apart, it stopped. Everything was silent and black.
Dazed, Tony panted and tried to regain his bearings as the chamber was opened, the light too bright for tender eyes.
Tony blinked rapidly as he tried to focus, taking a hesitant step on trembling legs. His entire body ached dully, like it had been overworked and abused. Raising a shaking hand to wipe his face, Tony paused and stared dumbfounded at his hand. His normally lean and delicate fingers were suddenly strong and capable.
Incredulous dark eyes blinked at the appendage before he glanced beyond to the stunned faces surrounding him. Tony registered several things at once – the looks of stunned disbelief and that suddenly everyone seemed to have gotten smaller. Frowning, he shook his head; no, that wasn't right. The world hadn't gotten smaller; he was bigger.
Pepper stepped forward first, her blue gaze sliding across his chest as her mouth fell open. Curiously Tony looked down, his jaw dropping at what he saw. Unbelieving, he touched his now smooth and muscular chest, which only minutes ago had been gaunt and frail. Still stunned, he looked back at Pepper, a delicate flush dusting her cheeks.
"Maybe a shirt, Miss Potts?" Erskine asked, his tone unable to hide his amusement. She nodded and turned away, taking a moment to collect herself.
Looking pale and wan, Howard was busy double-checking his readings, but still managed to send him a half-relieved, half-smug look.
Tony managed a hoarse thanks to Pepper as he pulled on the t-shirt she handed him, still sure he was in a dream of some sort. Soon he would wake up and be his normal, sickly self.
Doctor Erskine was before him then, smiling proudly, "Well done, Tony."
Tony inhaled deeply for the first time and waited for the usual rattle of his lungs - but his breath was clear. When the truth finally hit full force, it was enough to stagger him. He vaguely registered others approaching, men interested in the project, but all Tony could think was that he was different.
For the first time in his life, things were going right.
Raising his eyes to meet Erskine's gaze, he caught the unknown man's movement too late.
Everything happened so fast – the gun, the shot, Abraham Erskine falling.
Stunned, Tony fell to his knees beside the wounded man, unable to voice his anguish.
"Tony," the doctor wheezed through bloodied lips. "You're going to be great," the man gasped out before slumping in Tony's arms.
Emotions rising in his chest, Tony set his jaw; people were panicking, firing guns at the assassin. Without a thought he was up and running.
-#-#-#-
France -1944
"Are you sure I can't talk you out of this?" Howard yelled over the whir of the plane's engine.
Tony half grinned as he cinched up his parachute, "When have you ever been able to talk me out of anything?"
"Good point," Howard returned as he glanced back and fired off a small salute. "Don't die, little brother."
Tony returned the salute, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline, a nervous excitement in the pit of his stomach. After months of peddling bonds, stupid shows, and the hated costume, he was finally going to do something.
He was going to save his best friend.
Taking a breath he pulled on his helmet and fastened it. Outside tracer rounds lit up the night sky. "Get out of here as soon as I'm out, brother." With that he was falling into blackness.
-#-#-#-
Switzerland – 1944
"Fuck, it's cold," Lieutenant James Rhodes griped, wrapping his arms tighter around his shivering frame in an effort to gain some more warmth.
"Oh, really?" the other man mumbled with a half smile.
Rhodey sent his companion a half-hearted glare, "What are you doing anyway? Aren't we supposed to be doing recon?"
The dark haired man chuckled, "We have. They have a rotating guard patrol; it passes by every fifteen minutes."
Rhodes narrowed his eyes, "Then why the hell are we still in this hole freezing our asses off?"
"Because in an hour we are going to storm in there and burn that Hydra base to the ground."
There was a beat of thoughtful silence. "Good plan."
The man known as Captain America finally looked up at his long time friend, "You have a better one?"
James finally managed a grin, "Nope." The lieutenant of the Howling Commandos gave his long-time friend a lingering glance. Even after all these months he was still having problems reconciling the Tony Stark he knew to this Captain America. When he'd last seen his friend, Tony had been a ninety pound asthmatic. Now… now he was the epitome of human perfection.
Rhodey watched as his partner shifted around, careful of his shield as he fished a cigarette out of his pouch. The lighter made a faint click as he put the flame to the tip before taking a long breath and exhaling blue smoke into the frosty night air.
Done watching Tony, Rhodey found his eyes rolling skyward as the other man turned back to the sketchbook in his hands, cigarette clamped between his lips. "Think this war will ever end?" James asked aloud, unsure if he was looking for an answer or not.
Tony looked up from his sketch once more, taking a moment to contemplate the question, feeling only the faintest touch of cold on his skin. His now serum-enhanced body didn't seem all that bothered with extreme temperatures; he still hadn't figured out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"It'll end," he said, finally answering his friend's question. A long-fingered hand rubbed against his jaw unconsciously, feeling the stubble of his normally neatly trimmed facial hair.
"You don't sound all that certain," Rhodes returned, still staring upwards at the endless night sky.
Sighing heavily, Tony finished off the last of his smoke and stubbed out the end in the dirt before he too looked upwards.
"I am certain this war will end, Rhodey," he said, his breath puffing out before him. "I'm just not certain when the next will start."
-#-#-#-
Somewhere over the Arctic - 1945
"Tony, hold on, I'll get Howard!" the voice crackled back at him from the console of the Hydra ship.
Tony Stark glanced grimly out at the white expanse before him. "No… the only chance is if I put this down now," he replied, feeling nothing but resigned determination. His muscles strained to hold the controls as he pointed the nose straight down.
"Please, Tony," Pepper's voice sounded distant now as wind and blood rushed past his ears.
A small smile pulled at his lips, "Pepper, you want to go dancing with me?" he asked, the churning water below him looming larger by the moment.
Static hissed back at him for a heartbeat. "Stork Club, eight o'clock. Don't be late."
With the water impossibly close now, Captain America grinned. The impact was bone jarring as he snapped forward, then back in the seat, icy water suddenly pouring in from all sides.
His last conscious thought was a silent apology for a date he'd never make.