AN: Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Marvel Studios and Walt Disney Studios; Marvel Cinematic Universe
The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions)
Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, philanthropist. Tony, because Howard wanted a son, Natasha, because Maria birthed a daughter instead. [Earth 3490/Time Travel AU]
Chapter IV – Beginning
Camp Lehigh is worn.
Tony notices its age in the faded red-brick of the buildings, in the paint just beginning to peel from the wooden fixtures, in the rust spreading up the flag pole, in the faded white and green wallpaper in the Infirmary.
She shifts on the cot, the catheter in her arm becoming increasingly uncomfortable – the Infirmary is antiquated, despite the equipment being shining and new, and her fingers itch to pull apart the mechanisms and jerry-rig them into something better. Abraham, with a smile that implored her to behave had sequestered her here upon their arrival in the early hours of the morning, with a stack of coded notes on Project Rebirth and instructions to remain put, until the last of the EDTA solution had emptied from the glass container above her head.
She eyes the container balefully – there's something ironic, in that in order to lower the palladium levels in her blood, she's pumping a different kind of poison into her veins. Somewhere, in her head, in the notes that Abraham gave her, is the answers she needs… to solve the riddle of her heart.
Tony tugs the needle from her arm and awkwardly covers the pinprick hole in the crook of her arm with her thumb – it's close enough, she thinks, eyeing the glass container, the measurements on side proclaiming there's less than thirty millilitres of the solution left.
"What, do you think you're doing?"
Caught, Tony blushes. "Auntie, I was just coming to find you."
Peggy raises an eyebrow. "Indeed?" She asks, plucking a band-aid from the nearby Nurse's station, she removes the wrapper and nudges Tony's thumb aside. "You should call me Peggy." She says gently. "Auntie is a little hard to explain, don't you think?"
Tony runs her fingers along the edge of the band-aid and nods, pulling her sleeve down. "Right. Peggy." She gathers Abraham's notes, slipping them carefully into the leather messenger bag she'd borrowed from him and pulls on the brown SSR uniform jacket, that Auntie – Peggy, she reminds herself, had provided her. "Any reason you are here?" She asks bluntly.
"Yes," Peggy nods, smoothing her skirt, "I thought perhaps you would like to observe the new recruits."
"It's what I'm here for isn't it?" She asks sardonically – what else, will she do, sixty years in the past? Find her Father? Not likely, she scoffs internally.
Peggy hums lightly, and Tony is struck by just how young she is – twenty-two, if her math is correct, and it always is. "Indeed."
It's uncomfortable, Tony thinks, being in the company of the woman who wears her Auntie's face but is decades too young to know her – she doesn't fithere. It's been less than a month she's lived in this time and while she's trying to accept that this might just be her life now, there's a large, a too large part of her that doubts she ever will. She can feel Peggy's eyes on her; she raises her chin, straightens her back and sets her shoulders – never give them an inch.
"You're doing well." Peggy compliments quietly, as they approach the grassed oval where the new recruits stand in formation – Tony's eyes find him immediately. He sticks out like a sore thumb, a good foot shorter than the rest, and half as wide, he looks almost like a child, that has stolen onto the base to fight in a war that is not his to fight. "I can't say I understand how you feel, Tony, to be trapped in a place that is not… yours... but I do know what it is like, to be a woman standing in the place of a man and thriving."
Tony smiles tiredly. "You taught me to know my value, taught me that as long as I know just how brilliant I am, anyone else's opinion doesn't really matter – it's a mentality that's served me well, on countless occasions."
Peggy glances at her, and Tony thinks she looks almost proud. "It's going to be you, isn't it," she begins fondly, "my greatest achievement."
Tony scoffs, falling into step behind her as they reach the line of soon-to-be soldiers – 'what is and will always be, my greatest creation… is you.' "Hardly." She voices softly.
"Recruits, attention!" Peggy calls authoritatively – and Tony's almost glad she didn't hear. "Gentlemen, I'm Agent Carter, I supervise all operations for this division. Behind me is Nurse Stark, she, along with Doctor Erskine, will be evaluating you throughout your training."
"What's with the accent, Queen Victoria?" Tony eyes the recruit – he's tall, physically fit, the kind of man the S.S.R had added to the list of potential super soldiers without understanding the fundamental changes that would be made. Good, becomes great. Bad… becomes worse. "I thought I was signing up for the U.S Army."
"What's your name, soldier?"
"Gilmore Hodge, your Majesty."
"Step forward Hodge." Peggy orders. "Put your right foot forward."
"Ooh, we gonna wrassle? Cause I got a few moves I know you'd like." He leers, winks, and falls to the dirt – Peggy rubs her knuckles, glancing over her shoulder.
Tony meets her eyes with a grin. "Nice."
"Agent Carter!"
Peggy turns, snapping into a respectful salute as the car bearing the Colonel stops. "Colonel Phillips." She says lightly.
"I see you're breaking in the new recruits." He nods approvingly as he walks closer. "Good." He spares a glance at the man attempting to stem the blood leaking from his nose. "Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention 'til somebody comes tells you what to do."
Hodge picks himself up. "Yes Sir."
"General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best..." Tony knows the instant the Colonel has spied Steve, entirely too small alongside the other recruits, "men… And because they're gonna get better. Much better. The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history." He stares down each recruit and Tony wonders if he can assess their worth, with just a single glance. "But every army starts with one man. At the end of this week we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super-soldiers and they, will personally escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell."
Peggy steps forward. "In the barracks behind me, you will each have a bunk assigned to you. Cherish the sleep you receive here, for you won't have accommodation this lovely on the front. This coming week you will be put through basic training – do not think that it is only your physical fitness you will be assessed upon." She gestures toward Tony. "Throughout your training, Doctor Erskine and Nurse Stark will be completing further medical assessments as well as psychological evaluations. If you do not consent to either of these appraisals, please speak up now, but know that you will no longer be considered by the S.S.R as a viable candidate for Project Rebirth."
"Find your bunks. Your training begins at oh eight hundred hours." Peggy informs them. "Dismissed."
"Rogers! Get that rifle up out of the mud!"
Tony shakes her head as she watches him gingerly tug at the uniform white shirt up and over his shoulders. He's only three days into basic training, and his skin is a myriad of colours, angry red, purple, black and dark blue – each bruise is in a different stage of healing, but she remembers all too well the pain of being covered head to toe in welts such as these.
"My God." She murmurs. "Did you go through a meat grinder?"
"No Ma'am." He grins happily. "Only basic training."
She looks down at him – there's a kind of giddy joy in his eyes; he truly doesn't care about the bruises, only that he is finally going through the training he's fought so long to be accepted into. Tony blinks – he's... captivating. "There's not much we can do to treat these." She says, shaking her head. Dear God, she's an idiot. "An ice bath perhaps?" Tony asks over her shoulder, and Abraham shakes his head.
"I do not think it will be necessary." He answers, readying a needle to take a sample of Steve's blood.
Tony nods. It won't be really; he'll be undertaking the transformation into Captain America at the end of the week – confirmed by Colonel Phillips or not. "Do try not to gain anymore." She advises him, despite knowing he'll end up doing exactly that.
He offers her a sweet smile, and to her horror, she feels heat rise on her cheeks. "I'll try not to Ma'am."
"You'd be ineligible on your asthma alone."
"Is there anything you can do?"
"I'm doing it. I'm saving your life."
"It's not long enough." Tony says softly to Peggy, leaning forward from the backseat of the truck as they watch the retinue of cadets jog closer.
"No." Peggy agrees, looking to her. "It's not."
"How many lives would be saved," Tony asks, "with more training? With more time?"
Peggy sighs – it's a bitter sounding thing, the truth of the matter hard to bear. "Not as many as we would lose waiting."
It strikes Tony then; she's living in a graveyard, surrounded by dead men. Those not killed in the War, on the front lines or behind them, those who lived, would still most likely be dead in her time.
"Pick up the pace, ladies! Let's go! Double time! Come on! Faster! Faster! Move! Move!" She watches the recruits until they reach the flag pole and Sergeant Duffy raises his arm. "Squad, halt! That flag means we're only at the halfway point. First man to bring it to me gets a ride back with Agent Carter and Nurse Stark. Move, move!"
The recruits scramble, "Come on! Get up there!" they shout, and jump over one and other, desperate to reach the flag. Tony eyes the pole itself – it's a basic design, still common in her time at most underfunded public schools; all that needs to be done to retrieve the flag is pull the pin at the base.
"If that's all you got, this army's in trouble! Get up there, Hodge! Come on! Get up there! Nobody's got that flag in 17 years!" Sergeant Duffy watches the recruits fail until his patience wanes. "Now fall back into line! Come on, fall in! Let's go! Get back into formation!"
"Rogers!" Duffy shouts. "I said fall in!"
The flag-pole falls, and Tony feels a grin tug at her lips as she watches Steve drop the pin at the base and collect the flag – Sergeant Duffy accepts the flag dumbly, unsure how to react as Steve climbs into the backseat beside her.
"Thank you, sir." Steve calls over his shoulder, and Tony snorts.
"Odd choice." She says lightly, as they begin the drive back to the barracks. "Joining the Army when you can't follow orders."
"I can follow orders Ma'am." He utters softly but is unable to look her in the eye. He's struggling to catch his breath – he's an asthmatic, she recalls suddenly. There's no such invention as an inhaler in this time; it's an injection of epinephrine or aminophylline tablet… she has neither. Her knowledge of medicine is purely theoretical, a combination of late nights in her lab trying to find a cure, and the days of frantic studying she'd done of the medical texts lining Abraham's bookshelves in New York when she'd realised her cover called for a working knowledge at the very least.
"Sit upright." She orders him, lightly pushing his shoulder back into the seat when he reflexively leans forward. "Slow, deep breaths." He complies and she nods. "That's right Rogers, can't have you dying on us yet."
"I should wait about a week, right?" He asks when his breathing returns to normal. "Dying in America... how embarrassing."
Tony coughs, a shocked laugh falling from her lips – of all the stories she'd been told of Captain America in her youth, no one, not one of them, had told her he was funny. It burns, somewhere deep down, that she could quite possibly, end up liking Captain America.
"You got a family?"
"Yes, and I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?"
"No."
"So, you're a woman who has everything... and nothing."
"Faster, ladies! Come on." Tony flicks her eyes across the yard, Peggy's voice commanding a swift response as she presides over the recruits at her feet. "My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!"
"You're not really thinking about picking Rogers, are you?"
Tony shares a glance with Abraham. "I am more than just thinking about it." He tells Colonel Phillips. "He is the clear choice."
"When you brought a ninety-pound asthmatic onto my army base, I let it slide. I thought, what the hell? Maybe he'll be useful to you, like a gerbil. I never thought you'd pick him!"
"Up." Peggy orders the recruits, who jump to stand at attention.
"You stick a needle in that kids arm and it's gonna go right through him." Colonel Phillips continues.
Steve is red-faced and flushed, his star-jumps sloppy and his breathing laboured – he's going to have another asthma attack if he's not careful, she thinks despairingly.
"Come on, girls." Peggy sighs – there's an edge of disappointment to her voice, as though each and every one of them had let her down in some way. Tony hates that tone; it's remembered failures, whispered, 'I'm sorry I let you down Auntie's', and that look in Peggy's eyes that made her feel oh so guilty.
"Look at that. He's making me cry."
Abraham shakes his head. "I am looking for qualities beyond the physical."
"Do you know how long it took to set up this project?"
"Yeah, I know."
"All the grovelling I had to do in front of Senator what's-is-name's committees?"
"Brandt." Abraham supplies easily. "Yes, I know. I am well aware of your efforts."
Colonel Phillips gives him a hard stare. "Then throw me a bone. Hodge passed every test we gave him. He's big, he's fast, he obeys orders. He's a soldier."
"He's a bully." Tony says easily, inserting herself into the conversation. Abraham nods, even as Colonel Phillips regards her coolly.
"Antoinette is correct. Hodge is mean, conceited and too self-interested. He is not right, Chester."
"You don't win wars with niceness, Doctor." Colonel Phillips growls, picking up a dummy grenade, and releasing the pin. "You win wars with guts." He lobs it toward the unsuspecting recruits. "Grenade!"
It happens, in stages. Hodge notices first; "Move, move, move!" He shouts, leaping out of the way, the majority of the recruits following his lead.
Peggy notices second, and dashes forward – but is beaten by Steve, who dives toward the grenade and covers it with his body. "Get away!" He yells, "get back!"
The yard stops, waiting for an explosion that doesn't come. "It was a dummy grenade." A voice declares. "All clear."
Peggy takes a breath to steady her nerves. "Back in formation." She orders.
Steve sits up, confusion is etched across his features – Tony watches Colonel Phillips deflate. "Is this a test?"
"He's still skinny." Chester Phillips states petulantly.
She doesn't bother to curb her laughter at the Colonel's sulk – of all the objections to Steve, it's not the murmur in his heart, the scoliosis that curves his spine, his sky-high blood pressure or the asthma that constricts his lungs, it's that he's skinny.
Abraham smiles, and pats the leaving Colonel on his shoulder, before offering her his arm. "Walk with me Miss Stark?"
Tony slips her hand into the crook of his arm.
"I have worked on this serum for many years." Abraham begins softly, leading her past Peggy and the recruits, toward the running track that loops around the edge of the base. There's a crisp kind of freshness on the air and though the sun shines, it's cold enough to raise goosebumps on Tony's arms. "I am relieved you arrived here when you did Antoinette, it does this old man good, to know he will not fail again."
"You make a difference Abraham." Tony replies. "Steve, makes a difference; this coming November alone he saves hundreds of men trapped behind enemy lines."
Abraham smiles. "He is a good man."
"The serum will make him great." Tony reaffirms quietly, lost in thought. It's hard to reconcile the two; the tarnished image of Captain America, the hero who's shadow she could never escape and Steve, who's unassuming and funny and so unerringly kind. She had spent years, fighting a dead man for a place in her Father's heart, hating him, cursing him, blaming him because she couldn't hate her Father.
Perhaps she should have. She should have done a lot of things.
"I should have died." She whispers into the silence. "I should have died in Afghanistan. A bomb exploded next to me and I… survived. I've been living on borrowed time for almost a year Abraham. Every round of EDTA – I feel worse, not better. I'm poisoning my liver, my kidneys, my mind to counteract the poisoning in my blood… and it's not working."
"You must give it time." Abraham consoles her, but it's empty, for he knows as well as she.
"I don't have time, I'm dying." She exclaims – Tony hasn't voiced it, the wild, desperate idea reading through his notes gave her… but she does now. "Your serum is designed to enhance the human body. Every ailment, every illness, every disability Steve Rogers has, is cured by this serum – I won't kid myself into thinking I am worthy, Abraham, I am not a good person, nor will the serum make me great… but it might save my life."
He pats her hand, and Tony almost feels hopeful. "It might… but it might not. You must understand Tony, the serum on its own is not enough."
"Why?" She cries, freeing her hand and spinning away from him.
"Antoinette…"
"Natasha." She tells him fiercely, hand over the Arc Reactor that's covered by her shirt. "My name is Natasha. I'm not Antoinette. I graduated summa cum laude from Massachusetts Institute of Technology, I created the Iron Woman suit, I fucking privatised world peace and I am dying! Save my life." Tony begs, close to tears. "Save my life."
"Natasha." Abraham sighs, and takes her hands in his own. "The serum in conjunction with the vita-radiation, is the catalyst for chemical change within the body. I will not risk your life, in doing this wrong."
"But it is the serum itself that enhances the body, correct?" Tony presses, squeezing his hands. "It's the serum that can cure a heart murmur, straighten a spine, lower blood pressure and cure damaged lungs. I'm right, aren't I?"
"Natasha… Tony–"
"I'm right." She tells him, "tell me I'm right."
"In theory." He answers begrudgingly.
"No," Tony shakes her head, "not in theory, in practice. This succeeds Abraham. Steve becomes the first super solider–"
"He is not the first." Abraham says angrily – and Tony understands. He's frightened... it's not enough to know he succeeds, despite his words otherwise – he needs proof.
"No." Tony replies. "But he will be the first good man, is that not enough?"
"It is not enough to let me risk your life."
Tony takes his hands – she doesn't want to die here. "It's enough for me."
"You stood by my side all these years while I reaped the benefits of destruction. Now that I'm trying to protect the people I've put in harm's way; you're going to walk out?"
"You're going to kill yourself, Tony. I'm not going to be a part of it."
"I shouldn't be alive... unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right."
"May we?" Abraham asks, knocking on the door to the barracks.
Steve hastily gets to his feet, dropping the novel he was reading beside him. "Yeah," He says with a nervous smile, "come in, uh, take a seat."
Tony offers him a strained nod, and dips to sit on the mattress beside him – she's not sure why she came. Perhaps it was the lure of the alcohol, the bottle of Schnapps Abraham offered too tempting to pass up. Perhaps it's the part of her, clawing at the walls of the pit she buried her in, that knows it's the desire to see this Steve, one more time, before her mental gymnastics can no longer separate him from Captain America.
"Can't sleep?"
"I got the jitters, I guess."
Abraham laughs, and unfolds the mattress opposite Steve's bunk – the barracks are empty now and Steve seems smaller than ever in the too large room. "Me, too."
"Can I ask you a question?" He asks Abraham.
"Just one?" The Doctor teases.
"Why me?"
Why not me. The thought comes, unbidden and bitter. It isn't Abraham's duty to save her, she reminds herself, just as it wasn't Yinsen's, or Rhodey's, or Pepper's. She built the Mark I in a cave from pieces pulled from scrap metal and Jericho Missiles, she miniaturised the Arc Reactor, installed it in her chest and has saved countless livesasIronWoman… but she can't save herself.
She's supposed to be the hero of her story… she doesn't want to die a footnote in someone else's.
"I suppose that is the only question that matters." Abraham glances down at the bottle in his right hand. "This is from Augsburg. My city… so many people forget that the first country that the Nazi's invaded was their own. You know, after the last war the… my people struggled. They, they felt weak, they felt small. And then Hitler comes along with the marching and the big show and the flags and the… and the…" Abraham gestures with his hand, trying and failing to find the right words. He sighs. "And he… he hears of me, of my work and he finds me. And he says, 'You.' He says, 'You will make us strong.' Well, I am not interested."
Abraham sets the bottle on the ground. "So, he sends the head of HYDRA, his research division. A brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt. Now, Schmidt is a member of the inner circle and he's ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth. Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for Schmidt, it is not fantasy. For him, it is real. He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the earth, left here by the Gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do, he cannot resist. Schmidt must become that superior man."
"Did it make him stronger?" Steve asks quietly.
"Yeah, but… there were other effects. The serum was not ready. But more important, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great." Abraham attempts to catch her eye, but Tony can't bear to meet his gaze – she knows she's not worthy, knows she's not good... knows she's not enough. She doesn't want to see the pity in his eyes. "Bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power… but a weak man knows the value of strength and knows compassion."
Steve smiles, "Thanks. I think."
Abraham nods, and picks up the bottle. "Whatever happens tomorrow," He begins, pouring into the glasses Tony holds, "you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man."
"To the little guys." Steve answers, raising his glass to his lips, only for Abraham to reach out.
"No! No! Wait! Wait! What I am doing? No!" He takes Steve's glass and pours the finger of liquid into his own. "You have a procedure tomorrow. No fluids."
Steve shakes his head, an easy smile gracing his lips. "All right. We'll drink it after."
"No, I don't have a procedure tomorrow. Drink it after? Drink it now." Abraham grumbles, downing the liquid easily – Tony follows. It burns, in a familiar kind of way that sets her at ease. It's not Scotch, but it'll do.
She holds out her glass, but Abraham hesitates. Her fingers itch to snatch the bottle from his hands and drown herself at the bottom of it. "Antoinette..."
Tony scowls, and reaches for the bottle – Abraham holds it out of reach. "Call me Antoinette one more time old man, I swear to God–"
He acquiesces, pouring her another finger reluctantly. "Tony." He says her name like a warning and she stops, glass to her lips – he reminds her of Edwin.
She murmurs an apology around the rim of the glass, but downs it nonetheless – what's alcoholism going to do to her now, that hasn't already been done? It's settling deep into her bones, the familiar weight of despair; she'll spiral soon, as she always does, when she stands just a little too close to the edge.
"My apologies Steve," Abraham declares, on his feet now, bottle tucked under his arm, "Miss Stark and I must return to our quarters, there is much to be done before tomorrow."
"Oh. Of course." Steve responds softly.
There's something like disappointment in his tone, and she looks up at Abraham, blurting; "I think I'll stay."
Abraham fixes her with a stare that seems to stare right through her. She feels exposed, as though he's examining her very soul and judging her worthiness – Tony wishes she hadn't met his eyes.
"I mean," She swallows, setting her glass down. "If you don't need me right away Sir?"
"No." Abraham replies, and Tony deflates. "I don't need you right away." He smiles, a little warmly, a little sadly – he's caught in a memory, Tony realises, and wonders what he's remembering. "Goodnight Steve." He settles a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Not too long."
Tony leans into his hand ever so slightly. "Not too long." She agrees.
The door shuts heavily behind him, and they fall into silence. She licks her lips; she can still taste the schnapps that lingers there – it settles her. The silence is comfortable, but she's nervous… why had she stayed?
"Ma'am? If uh, you don't mind me asking," Steve begins hesitantly, "how did a dame like yourself get involved in this?"
Tony snorts, leaning back on the mattress. "God Rogers, stop calling me 'Ma'am' would you? Also, 'dame'? Really?" She asks, staring up at the ceiling.
"Sorry Ma'am." He says automatically, and Tony dips her head to the side – he wilts under her stare. "Uh, Stark?"
"That'll work." She grins. "Tony's fine too." Tony murmurs, and turns her head in a poor attempt to hide her blush. She feels like she's fourteen again, with an inappropriate crush on the hot T.A in her electrical engineering lectures. "To answer your question? Abraham."
"Doctor Erskine?"
"Do you know any other Abraham's?" She asks dryly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. She can't tell him the truth, but at the same time… she doesn't want to lie to him... she's not certain she can. "And… my Father."
"He was a soldier?"
Unconsciously, Tony drums two fingers on the Arc Reactor. "Of sorts." She answers after a time. "He died when I was young."
"Mine too." Steve replies, laying back on the bunk himself. "In the Great War. Mum went not long after."
"Abraham saw," proof, confirmation, "something in me I guess, and brought me into the S.S.R as his assistant." She lulls her head to the side, a wry grin twisting her lips. "That's how a dame like myself, got involved in this."
Steve smiles at the jab, shifting the arm under his head to get more comfortable. He turns his head and meets her eyes, his gaze solemn. "How do you think this is going to go tomorrow? Honestly?"
Tony exhales; this time tomorrow, he'll be Captain America. She tries for levity. "I imagine we'll dim all the lights in Brooklyn."
"I don't understand." He tells her softly.
"Yeah," Tony replies, sitting upright. "I know. It'll work Rogers. You'll be a whole new man, come tomorrow."
"A whole new man." He murmurs – she offers him a weak smile. Good, becomes great, she reminds herself. His lungs will no longer fail him, his heartbeat will stop skipping, he'll become everything he physically could have been… America's hero. Steve grins boyishly. "I think I'd just settle being a few inches taller."
Tony looks down at him – he's more relaxed than she's ever seen him. He's not too much shorter than her, she realises, a few inches at most, just enough that when they're standing, he'd have to tilt his head back ever so slightly to meet her eyes. "I should… go." She murmurs, brushing a wrinkle out of her skirt and standing.
"Oh." Steve says as he scrambles to his feet. "Of course. Doctor Erskine will be needing you."
Tony nods jerkily. "Yeah… yes. He will." She swallows; God, can he just stop looking at her? "Does. He does need me."
"Can I… can I walk you out?"
She blinks, confused for a moment before the courtesies of this time register in her mind. "Oh, yeah, of course." He holds out his arm and she hesitates. "Sure." She whispers finally, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.
His smile is like the sun, warm and bright and she fears if she looks at him for a moment too long, she'll turn to ash. The night is cool, and Tony ducks her head, grateful for the darkness hiding her flushed cheeks – she feels like an idiot, who blushes because of a smile? She was notorious for following in her Father's footsteps, for vacating one bed only to find her way into another, she's no blushing virgin and yet... when he smiles, she thinks she would give anything, to have him smile at her, just one more time.
Idiot, she thinks scathingly. It's some kind of cosmic joke, to be stuck in the nineteen forties, on the arm of a man she'd spent decades blaming for the coldness of her Father, only to find, instead of hatred as she expected, he makes her feel... warm.
Steve stops outside the double doors that least to the Infirmary. "Thank you." He says suddenly. "For staying." He elaborates shyly, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
Tony's throat feels dry and she swallows – is she nervous? "Any time."
"I may just take you up on that." He smiles fully. "I should leave you… I'm sure Doctor Erskine is waiting."
"Goodnight Steve." Tony murmurs, and in the space between seconds, makes a decision. She leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek – and meets his lips. Her eyes close of their own volition and she lingers, reflexively following him as he leans away in shock, before his hands fall to her waist – and he kisses back.
Tony imagines this is what it feels like, to be struck by lightning.
AN: Stony begins... kind of.
Thank you, for sticking with me, I know it's taken a while for me to come back to this. Understand none of my stories are abandoned, just that some days, it's harder than others to write - I hope you all love this as much as I do.
