Author's Note- Hopefully this chapter is a little…happier. I'll try to get back on my old updating schedule, I promise!
I don't own Marvel, okay? Okay.
To be clear, babysitting Tony Stark was not Steve's idea. But Fury had needed someone to watch him, and Clint and Natasha were Elsewhere with a capital E, and Thor was off in another dimension, so the job had fallen to Steve.
Honestly, he hadn't been doing much of anything because work for S.H.I.E.L.D. anyway. Mostly, he'd been taking a few classes online, one on post-1950s world history and another on 21st century literature, as well as reading books on the technology he'd missed. A few times a week, he did some volunteer work with World War II veterans at a local hospital, but that hadn't been as fulfilling as he'd hoped. They were in their 90s and reaching the end of their lives, and even though he'd seen some of the same things they had, he was really just beginning his. Whatever camaraderie he'd been hoping for hadn't materialized.
When Steve thought about it, the thing he really missed was the sense of belonging. He'd always liked that, being part of a group, working together for a shared goal, whether it was with the Army or the other Avengers. Joining the Initiative had helped, made him feel like he had a purpose, but making sure Tony Stark didn't go do something stupid wasn't quite what he'd had in mind when he signed on.
On the other hand, Tony had remained relatively quiet so far. He'd sat and stared out of the huge windows in his living room for awhile, and then he'd gotten up, brought over a bottle and a glass, and drank his way through some liquor that Steve figured had to cost as much as some cars. He hadn't made any snarky comments or called Steve any names, hadn't even commented on the Consumer Reports Steve was perusing (he'd rejected all offers of computers from the team and had set out to research and pick one for himself).
"I'm going downstairs," Tony announces, standing up. He doesn't look the least bit drunk but Steve isn't the best judge of that.
"Downstairs?"
"Workshop. Come on."
Steve sighs and closes his magazine. The look on Tony's face is scaring him a little. It's not quite maniacal, but too intense to just be labeled 'purposeful'. There's something brewing in Tony's brain, something Steve is almost certain he doesn't want to know about.
"What are you going to do?" Steve asks him cautiously while they're in the elevator, and Tony gives him a strange look.
"I need to update the suit. You can go back to reading about substandard electronics."
Tony's workshop is dimly lit and filled with machines that Steve can't even begin to fathom a purpose for. It smells a little like gunpowder and burned rubber. A security code is required to enter, and Steve has a strange feeling when he walks through the door, like he's invading someone's most personal space.
"You can sit there." Tony indicates a tall chair pushed against a wall, and Steve does as he's told. He tries to keep reading about MacBooks and Dells and hard drives, but eventually he gives up and watches, fascinated, as Tony works.
The person Steve sees in the workshop is totally different than the person Steve usually sees. This version of Tony Stark peels off his button-down shirt and works in suit pants and an undershirt, sweaty, motor oil on his hands and face, hair sticking up. Absently, Steve wonders if the public, put-together version of Tony Stark is just an illusion, like playing dress-up for the masses. He has no idea what Tony's even doing, but it's like watching an artist work on their masterpiece.
Maybe an hour later, Steve finds himself yawning and leans his head on the wall. He knows he shouldn't, because he needs to be watching Tony, like Fury said, but he closes his eyes anyway. He's not quite awake, just asleep enough to dream.
All of Steve's dreams are about the war, no matter how many things he experiences in the twenty-first century. Sometimes, they're about HYDRA and sometimes they're about Bucky, and usually they're about Peggy. This time, he dreams about the workshop and his shield and holding it in his hands, this amazing metal that there might not be more of, and Peggy holding up the gun and Howard explaining fondue…
The smell of metal is overwhelming and he smiles a little when he sees the dark-haired man hold up something red and gold and shiny, examine it in the muted light.
"Are we going to be here all night, Howard?" he asks, smiling, because he has the feeling Howard Stark might keep him here forever if that's how long it takes for him to find something absolutely brilliant. And then Howard turns to him, slowly, and Steve's smile fades. The man isn't Howard, is too old to be Howard, has a goatee and not a mustache, and hair that sticks up wildly instead of being slicked back. He blinks and realizes he's in Tony's workshop in New York City instead of Howard's workshop in the war zone.
Tony just glares at him. This somehow emboldens Steve to ask the question that's been taking up space in his head for awhile now.
"Why do you hate your father so much?"
The billionaire's glare intensifies. "What's it matter to you, Capsicle?"
"Howard was my friend. I owe him a lot and I'll never get to repay him," Steve says calmly.
"You were his pet," Tony corrects. "You were proof that he was a genius, so you were worth his time." The bitterness in his tone makes Steve recoil a little. "And without him, you'd have spent the war being beat up on the streets in Brooklyn. Sounds like you guys really cared about each other."
"What do you know about caring about other people?" Steve snaps, feeling like this conversation has happened too many times already.
Tony's face is suddenly alight with anger, pure, unadulterated anger, and it makes Steve recoil. "Why are you here, exactly?"
"To make sure you don't do anything stupid," Steve answers uneasily.
"To make sure I don't go rescue Bruce. Which, I don't know about you, but I think qualifies as 'caring about something'."
Steve drops his gaze for a second, and when he looks back at the other man's face, he doesn't see anger any more, but torment. He thinks of the few affection moments he's seen between Tony Stark and Doctor Banner, one in particular coming to mind: Tony, at the end of a battle, removing his helmet standing in front of the crouching Hulk, and kissing the Hulk on the forehead. He swallows and tries to formulate an appropriate response.
"You really love him, don't you?" Sure, two men or two women in a relationship wasn't ever a public thing in the forties, but Steve's hardly an idiot- those kind of relationships have always existed, and he knows love when he sees it.
Tony narrows his eyes. "If it were Peggy, you wouldn't listen to S.H.I.E.L.D."
"How do you know about Peggy?"
"My dad. She used to come over on the anniversary of your crash and they'd talk about how special you were." The touch of sarcasm isn't enough to bother Steve, not compared to Tony's previous statement.
"If it were Peggy, I would have ignored Fury's orders," Steve admits quietly.
There's a pause, and it's not awkward or uncomfortable, just silent, and then Tony's familiar smirk returns. "Fury said for you not to let me out of your sight. He didn't say we had to stay in the tower."
Steve returns his smile. "If you locate Ross, I'll find Clint and Natasha. How long until the suit is finished?"
Tony throws him a phone. "JARVIS, start a program to search the government's list of secure facilities. Focus on Pennsylvania like Rhodey said, and anything General Ross is involved in."
"Should I include gamma radiation experiments in my search as well, sir?"
"Yeah, do that." He turns back to Steve. "Suit's gonna take about an hour. My last one got destroyed in my fight with Ross and Bruce was gonna help me finish this one here."
"I don't know much about engineering, but I can help you somehow when I finish with Clint and Natasha," offers Steve.
For a moment, Tony's expression is unreadable, but then he nods. "That could work." He looks at Steve and there's a palpable level of discomfort in his face. "And Cap?" It's Steve's turn to nod, watching Tony intently. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." Steve gives him a half-smile, but internally, he knows he's just gotten the highest praise he possibly can from Tony Stark.