I never expected the kind of response to just the prologue! I'd like to thank Demon She-wolf, Terri'smind, MarveyTibbsMcGarrettWilliams, tigerlilly, Zenoneel-Sarior, Th3RedPyro, and a Guest for your kind reviews! Not to mention the mind-boggling 31 Favorites and 44 Follows. Holy crap! Thank you all so much for your support, it means everything.
Disclaimer: I own nothing under copyright.
Chapter 1: In the Beginning
"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
When Steve came to, he went tense. The last thing he remembered was the plane crashing into the ice, then- wait, no. He remembers darkness and being unable to breathe. But that's not right either. It most certainly wasn't lying in the softest bed he's ever felt, though, so he put the thought aside.
The room smelled of wallpaper glue, furniture polish, and laundry detergent. Wherever he was, it was clean and probably newly redecorated. The scent of hot metal and cloves made his chest ache with longing; he would know that smell anywhere, but it was impossible.
Steve Rogers wasn't dead. He'd thought he was going to see Tony and Bucky again. But the gentle sounds of the ocean, then a page flipping, were not what he would wake up to if he really was in heaven. A familiar soft whirring sound accompanied them. The noises echoed slightly, the room was tall and mostly empty. From the quality of the sound, it was rather large.
Having gathered all the information he could get with his eyes closed, Steve pried them open. And blinked at where he found himself. One wall was made of windows that overlooked the ocean, framed with bunches of sheer white curtains, while the others were wallpapered in soft yellow with gold pinstripes and the furniture (desk, chair, bed posts) were beautifully carved and polished wood. He turned his head and found himself unable to breathe.
It was Tony. The man sitting in a comfortable armchair at the bedside couldn't be there, because Tony Stark was dead, but there he sat with a thick book balanced on one thigh. Hungrily Steve's eyes roved the man, from fluffy brown hair to bare feet.
Except that this was wrong. When he died, Tony looked to be Steve's own age rather than the forty five he claimed. Now he almost looked that age, crow's feet forming at the edges of clever brown eyes and hair a little thinner. Above all, his Tony had always known if he was awake or just being stubborn. This man hadn't once looked up from his book.
Steve's lips went thin. So this was how they wanted to play it, huh? He sat up in the bed and narrowed his eyes at the man sitting at the bedside. "Who are you and where am I?" he asked, voice tightly controlled.
Now, the Tony look-alike noticed and looked up with cautiously excited eyes. "My name is Tony Stark. You're in my house in Malibu, California," he said in Tony's voice. He closed the book and set it on a side table that Steve hadn't noticed, paying full attention to the man in bed.
"Who are you really?" Steve asked coldly. If the man didn't tell the truth this time, he'd have to find out for himself.
"I really am Tony Stark. Howard's son," the man insisted.
The addition of Howard into the mix threw Steve for a moment. All those months ago his Tony had insisted that Howard would only have one child, and it would definitely be a son. He'd bet ten bucks on it.
"Ruskies found you when they were drilling for oil," Stark was explaining when he tuned back in.
"Make you a deal," Steve interrupted, not caring that it was rude.
"Is it one I can't refuse?" Stark joked. Something in his eyes was deadly serious.
"You show me your arc reactor and tell me what it does, and if you're right, I'll believe you," Steve offered in one of his more cunning plans. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't.
"How do you know about my arc reactor?" Stark asked, dead serious. He leaned back to try to gain some height, but still only came up to Steve's forehead.
It was a battle not to grin. "I'm a little bit psychic," Steve said, quoting Tony.
Slowly, like he wasn't sure about this, Stark raised the hem of the shirt he was wearing. It was admittedly much like the one Tony had worn all those months ago. First trim abs were revealed, then strange white veins and pinkish scars, then the arc reactor. It shone blue, just like Tony's, but the design… This one was completely circular. There was no triangle in the middle. It was incorrect.
Steve smirked and leaned forward, prepared his muscles to jump up and run for it. "Trick question," he whispered. Before the imposter could do anything more than blink stupidly, he was out of bed and ripping open the door that he had spied earlier.
"Jarvis, security windows!" the imposter shouted, still using Tony's voice. How could they know what he called his armor?
Metal came down over the windows faster than he could get to them. With his shield that wouldn't be a problem, but he didn't even have shoes, never mind that. Instead he skidded down the stairs and hoped there was something he could use.
Instead he found a lab, higher tech than he had ever seen and four editions of the Iron Man suit standing in a row. It was enough to stop him in his tracks. The details were imperfect, but too close to be a coincidence.
"Cap, listen, I'm not trying to fool you. I'm telling the truth. My name really is Tony Stark, this really is my home, and… It's not 1945 anymore," the Tony look-alike told him, walking slowly down the stairs with hands firmly at his sides. He was trying to seem like he wasn't a threat.
The information that got thrown at Steve made no sense. It made perfect sense. "What do you mean?" he asked guardedly. On instinct he shuffled to put his back to a concrete wall, not give this unknown variable a chance to hit him from behind.
Stark stopped near the stairs, gave him all the distance he needed. "You were under the ice for nearly seventy years, Cap. That's what I was trying to tell you. Oil drillers found the plane and called the feds. They defrosted you and called me for a place you can stay," he continued, eyes darting all over Steve's body, similarly watching for threats, "They were going to put on a little play, try to make you believe it was still the forties to break it to you easy or something like that. I vetoed that, by the way." He looked like he expected thanks for it.
Truthfully, Steve would have preferred it to this. He said nothing, only watched this unknown element.
"You'd have figured it out right away, gotten angry when no one told you anything, and then fought your way out to Times Square or something else crazy," Stark continued with a roll of his eyes. Was that fondness in his voice?
In a way, it all made sense. The unwelcome thought intruded that maybe this explained Tony.
For a moment they were at a standstill, neither daring to even breathe. Steve took the opportunity to stop and listen to his instincts. They had never led him astray before.
That smell of white hot metal and cloves invaded his nose again, and automatically his mind labeled this strange man that stood in front of him as Tony. It was Tony, but something was different. There was a variable that he hadn't figured out yet.
Steve felt his shoulders relax and his body leave fight-or-flight mode. "So, Tony, it looks like Howard got a late start on you. You're what, forty?" he guessed with a quick look-over. Tony had always been one to look younger than he really was.
"Aw, I'm hurt. Most people say thirty," Tony complained playfully. He too relaxed, taking a few steps closer and stuffing his hands in his pockets in a motion that looked habitual.
Unable to help it, Steve snorted. He too took a few steps forward, very nearly meeting the other man in the middle.
"Turning forty one soon," Tony admitted with a quirk of his lips.
"I won't tell," Steve promised dryly. Automatically his mind tallied up the information and came to a startling conclusion: this was Tony before they met. It explained everything, all those little gaps in tech and knowledge that had been inexcusable before, except that he'd never heard of anyone successfully utilizing time travel before.
They had four years or so to go. He had time to investigate.
"I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot," Tony said conversationally, and offered a tan, calloused hand. "Tony Stark." His smile was friendly but his eyes were cautious.
"Steve Rogers," the Captain returned, and shook it. His hand dwarfed the other, just like he remembered.
"Jarvis, security windows can go," Tony called out.
The hall and lab filled with light as the metal shades lifted themselves. Everything gleamed like cut diamond.
"What do you say to lunch? Anything you want," Tony offered with a grin. He took a small rectangular device with a glass screen from his pocket and started swiping at the screen with his thumbs.
Pizza sounded good. So did stew. Or dumplings like they had in Poland. A full explanation sounded better.
Apparently Tony took the long silence as an indication that he didn't know, because he began babbling about the wonders of Chinese food.
"That sounds good," Steve cut in.
Tony tapped the screen several times and put it to his ear. Was it a phone? He ordered the whole menu, literally, and charged it to his Visa, whatever that meant, before he tapped the screen again and put it away. "So, what do you want to know?" he asked.
Ever since Cap was discovered, Tony's entire life had gone nuts. More than usual, anyways.
The man himself was possibly the biggest mystery that he had ever come across. First he knows Tony's name, then he doesn't believe that it's him. Somehow he knew about the arc reactor, even though only Pepper knew and she certainly didn't tell. And why did the lab stop him in his tracks?
The explanation about being psychic would make sense, except that it didn't. Psychics are frauds and Cap seemed to hate dishonesty.
Now here he was, making most of the ordered food disappear down his throat as he gazed in wonder at Tony. It made him feel a little self conscious.
"Is there something on my face?" Tony asked when he caught Cap- Steve- staring again.
"No, no, just… hard to believe I'm here," Steve answered, shaking his head. The tips of his ears went pink.
That, Tony could understand. When he got back from Afghanistan, he felt the same way for days. "I know the feeling," he said after he swallowed a piece of crab.
For a little while they continued to eat in silence, but nerves crowded Tony's stomach. There was nothing else for it, he had to say something. "Listen, I need you to not say anything about the arc reactor," he told Steve with a wry twist of his lips, "It's a secret. Only two other people know, Pepper and Rhodey, and you're the only ones who can know." He made sure to emphasize the importance of this, use the sincere eyes and everything.
"Why?" Steve asked. He put down his fork in favor of paying full attention to his dinner companion.
Tony took a moment to formulate his answer. "It's the most advanced technology in the world right now, and it's keeping me alive. Somebody's already taken it out and left me to die. I can't do that again," he said. Conspicuously, he left out that it was killing him and maybe that was the easy way out.
"Is there a way to fix what's wrong?" The question almost made Tony laugh. If only.
"Not that won't kill me," he answered with a twist of his lips. In a grotesquely obvious change of subject, Tony said, "So, about 2011. The Allies won the war, there was a stalemate against the USSR, which crumbled in the nineties, we had wars in Vietnam and Korea, and we're currently engaged in the Middle East. All races are equal, women have full rights, and technology does everything from keep your food cold to space travel. Any questions?" He fully expected a stunned, stuttering diatribe. Tony used his best expression of innocence as he resumed eating.
"Where's the restroom?" Okay, somehow that one was unexpected.
As Tony gave directions (down the hall, on the left) he allowed himself a grin. Wasn't this refreshing? Now all he had to do was be a discourteous host so that he could be a less discourteous host and keep from dying.
That was actually very easily done. Steve was content to be left to himself, after a brief explanation of what things did and some of the more common symbols. The power buttons on remotes and electronics required about five minutes by themselves.
It was a surprise when knocking disturbed Tony from testing plutonium. He looked up and realized that the whole day had wasted away, only stars shining in his windows. At the glass wall was Steve, holding a plate with an expression of concerned amusement.
Tony ordered the door opened. "Hello, Cap, what can I do you for?" he asked casually, setting the chunk of plutonium down safely.
"You haven't eaten since breakfast," Steve answered. He set the plate down on an empty space at the workbench, thankfully far from the radioactive substances.
When Tony looked, he saw bacon, eggs, toast, baked beans and fried tomato slices. "You made me food?" he asked, surprised. Dare he say it, he was touched by the effort.
"What I could," Steve answered sheepishly.
"Thanks. Now, I'm working with some highly toxic substances, so you should probably leave," Tony told him, not as brusquely as normal. The way to a man's heart was through his stomach, after all. And that food smelled damn good.
Steve was perfectly happy to skedaddle.
The moment the doors shut after him, Tony sighed and looked at the plate. That man was too good to be true. He ate while he worked and set the plate on a table by the door to bring up later; for now he had more elements to examine.
Every single one of them were useless.
It took nearly a week for Tony to run out of materials and combinations to test, with no results. He was going to die. Slowly, probably painfully, and not at all in a way he wanted to.
Looked like it was time to get working on that bucket list.
Arrangements were made for the annual art sale, including his own collection. Honestly Tony was happy to see them go. Pepper picked them out, but better paintings could have been made by a cat.
Plans were made for the Stark World Expo to have one final run before there were no more Starks to keep it going. Not that Tony told anyone that last part. No, he kept his impending death very nicely to himself.
Sometimes he thought Steve suspected. It was eerie how observant the man was, knowing things he had no business knowing about from just a glance at the right moment. Like Iron Man.
"So those suits, are they just yours, or can anyone use one?" he asked one day when he brought lunch down to the lab as had become usual. Instead of just dropping it off, he had sat on an empty stool with his own plate and began eating. The blue eyes that always made something weird happen in Tony's chest were staring right at him, blinking innocently.
Tony wasn't buying it. "Kind of. Only authorized people can get in them," he answered anyway. That meant him and Rhodey, though he never told his friend that.
"That's probably a good thing," Steve said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. No, something was bothering him. He was worried.
"What's eating you, Gilbert Grape?" Tony asked bluntly. There was no time to pussyfoot around anymore.
For a moment Steve blinked in confusion, but he quickly figured out the phrase. "I guess I'm a little overwhelmed," he answered softly, "It's a whole new world and it moves so fast. It's like I'm riding a bike and the rest of the world are in jet planes flying ahead so fast I can't catch up." His eyes were wistful as he watched Tony eat.
Chewing slowly, Tony thought about what the other man said. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, knowing that he would do anything he was asked. The idea made something twist anxiously in his gut.
"Having you here with me helps," Steve offered with a shy smile. The caution and longing in his voice made Tony's chest hurt. The man wanted nothing more than to get home, it was obvious, but here he was saying nice things about his decidedly rude, antisocial host.
That was it, Tony decided. Putting aside his plate, he grinned with the idea that had just entered his brain. "Wanna go for a fly?" he asked, jerking his head toward the suits.
"They fly?" The wide-eyed awe in Steve's face was inspiring.
"Yep! All you'd have to do is hold onto me and pray that the guy who usually uses the suits doesn't kill me for it," he joked. Steve already knew about his arc reactor. The truth about Iron Man was too much to trust another person with.
It was in vain. "You love yourself too much to kill yourself," Steve snorted, but the second he realized what he said, he clamped a hand over his mouth.
Tony stared in silence at Captain America, wondering if he really was psychic. The suits didn't look to be his size, bulky with armor and weapons. It even added seven inches onto his height, both to throw the media off and have room for his thrusters and helmet padding. So how did Steve know?
"I shouldn't have said that about you," Steve said apologetically, staring down at his feet now. The pink in his ears was adorable.
"I won't ask why you think it's me that's usually in there," Tony replied, trying to imply again that it's someone else.
This time, Steve rolled his eyes. "Would you trust someone else with these?" he asked dryly.
The answer was obviously no. Tony knew himself well enough that he would probably destroy the suits before he gave up control of them to anyone other than Rhodey. Except maybe… It gave him food for thought even as he bobbed his head in concession. "Can't tell anyone about this either," Tony said as he shoved the plate away half full.
With a startled noise, Steve nodded. "Why? I would have thought it was common knowledge," he said, following Tony over to the platform where the suit was usually assembled around him.
Tony barked out a laugh. If only. When he went with the story on those cards, he had doomed himself to a cage of his own design. After all, he had been the one to imply that Iron Man was his bodyguard in the first place. "JARVIS, suit me up," he told his computerized butler.
"Might I remind you that-" the polite British voice began.
"Don't care right now," Tony interrupted. He shot a glance at Steve as the armor pieces zoomed toward him, hoping that he hadn't given too much away.
Instead the man watched the suiting up process with a combination of curiosity and… why did he look worried? The expression was familiar after days of not coming out of the lab for more than using the toilet, much to Steve's disapproval. It was in the little line between his eyebrows and the stiffness of his chin.
"What?" Tony asked as the last of the body armor was put on.
"It's a little slow," Steve answered quietly.
That much, Tony had to concede. He had to shut up while the helmet was put on, but the moment that was done he activated the speakers. "I was working on that before I got on my latest project," he said in Iron Man's familiar tinny voice.
Was that a shiver he saw go down Steve's spine?
Yes, it most definitely was. But was that fear or excitement? "Okay Cap, stand on my boots and put your arms around my shoulders so you don't burn your hands off," Tony instructed, watching the other man carefully.
This time there was no shiver, but he noticed the other man's ears were a delightful dark pink with the heat of his blush. Oh my. Did Captain America have a kink? This had to be thought over carefully.
As he stood on the boots, Steve looked down, worried that he was crushing them. When they held, he let out a quiet breath and held himself tightly to the armor. Like this his face couldn't be seen, but the surety with which he wrapped himself around Iron Man said a great deal.
Starting off slow, Tony hovered them over to the doors he usually flew from. He smiled when just this got a reaction, a faint gasp. Wait until they really started flying.
The moment they got out from under the overhang, Tony took off. He rocketed straight up at full speed, stopping right before freezing point and then hovered for a moment to let it sink it. They really were in the sky, above the clouds.
On the corner of the screen he noticed Steve reach out fascinated, toward the stars. If only.
Instead, Tony took a steep dive straight into the clouds. It was just condensed water vapor and he was used to it.
Steve kept a hand out to touch the clouds, using his superhuman strength to keep his grip on the suit with the other. Leaned out like this, his face could be seen. In the starlight his skin was white and hair a silver-streaked pale gold; the blue of his eyes was more breathtaking than ever.
Once out of that cloudbank, Tony lowered them to hover right below it for a prime view of the city. If Howard was right, the man was a prime artist. This should keep him inspired for days if not weeks.
"Tony, this is… amazing," Steve breathed as he looked down at the city below. His eyes were wide and he was grinning, amazed at the sight.
There was a strange light fluttery feeling in Tony's chest that made him panic. Oh no, not this. Not again, about the real thing. To distract himself, he warned the Cap, "Hold on tight, this ride is going to get wild." He chuckled when Steve wrapped both arms tightly around the armor again.
The city was suddenly in their faces. They skimmed alongside buildings close enough for Steve to reach out and touch, speeding between cars and through alleys before going back to the upper floors of the skyscrapers. When he passed a hand over the decorative plasterwork on the old Bank of California building, Steve laughed, long and loud. It was a final race against a helicopter, Cap waving at the camera crew inside with his face pressed into the armor's neck, before Tony flew them home.
Landing made Tony feel like he was still speeding ahead and would crash into the wall, as it always did, but he loved it. The rush of blood through his veins was worth the poisoning. "Gotta get the suit off," he told Steve regretfully. He wouldn't have minded having Cap wound around him like this for another hour or more (preferably without the armor) but it needed to come off.
Just as reluctant, Steve stepped off Tony's boots and released his shoulders. "That was... " he couldn't seem to find the words. Instead he stared off into space, looking the happiest that Tony had seen him so far.
"I know, right?" Tony asked cheerfully as JARVIS removed the suit components. It was what he loved most about the suit, that illusion of freedom.
"Ever since Romania I wanted to know what it would be like to fly without a plane. God, it was better than I hoped," Steve said, smiling brightly. When he turned to look at Tony, however, his face froze and he looked like he had been struck. He'd forgotten his worries and problems in the air, but the second he looked at his host again they were back like a clingy one-night stand.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Tony tilted his head to the side, wondering if it was something he did.
The smile Steve gave him looked painful. "It's nothing really. I just forgot… I'm not quite home after all," he said with a shake of his head. He was berating himself for being silly.
There was nothing Tony could say; he didn't even try. "You might want to get dried off. Those clothes can't be comfortable," he suggested instead. After going through the clouds, the man was soaked and probably freezing.
When Steve looked down at himself, it was like he had forgotten about it. "Oh. Yeah," he said, as if to himself. When he looked up again, at Tony, there was something warm in his eyes.
It felt like he just got electrocuted.
"Thank you," Steve told the inventor, before he gathered their empty dishes and left the lab.
Alone once more, Tony collapsed onto a stool and leaned his head back against a computer tower. What just happened? They were happy, giddy even, and then… He looked at his reflection in a darkened monitor.
Dark brown hair, mussed from his helmet, paired well with brown eyes that he had heard described as hypnotizing but right now just looked lost and empty. Palladium poisoning was beginning to turn his natural tan a sickly grey. Laugh lines were starting, crow's feet invading the corners of his eyes. Further down, he knew he would see a fairly nice neck and broad, strong shoulders, leading down to defined arms and then… his penance.
It was the work of a moment to remove his shirt to look at it. The veins popped out, unnatural silver and shining even brighter than the tender pink of his scars. In the middle, a bright blue light glowed that were it anywhere or anything else, he would be fascinated by. The very thing both keeping him alive and killing him.
For a few seconds Tony fingered the edge of the metal in his chest, wondering if maybe he should take it out. Let himself die quickly instead of dealing with the pain and humiliation coming his way.
The thought was shaken out of his head. That wasn't the way Tony Stark did things. He was too stubborn to give up so fast, and had every plan to go out with a bang.
"JARVIS, give Steve access to the lab," Tony called out to his computerized butler.
"Done, sir," JARVIS said serenely.
Tony took a deep breath, making sure he really wanted to do this. But he had to. Before he let himself die, he needed to settle the ownership of his suits. "Give him access to one of the suits, too," he said, closing his eyes in distress.
JARVIS reported that it was done. For being a computer, there was distinct worry in that British voice as he did so.
It was ignored. Instead, Tony patted his bots and went to work on altering the suits for their future owners. They'd each need their own power source. It wasn't like either Rhodey or Steve had an arc reactor in their chests.
When Pepper Potts arrived in the office, she expected to hear some kind of gossip about her employer, or his continuing to be a hermit. They wouldn't believe the truth even if they knew it, she thought as she listened with half an ear.
The sudden near-disappearance of one of the world's most talked about celebrities was a mystery the news still salivated over the tiniest rumors about. That he stopped his infamous conquests and numerous one night stands was on its own headline news. Pepper was well aware of why; it was impossible to keep the arc reactor secret while continuing his lifestyle of fast cars and faster women.
Then there were the questions about Iron Man, avoided with a sharp smile, a witty comment and a bat of his eyelashes. It was almost disgusting how much he could get away with like that.
Relief flowed through Pepper when she remembered that he was avoiding questions about Iron Man for an entirely different reason now. It wasn't him in the suit anymore, thank everything. No, another man had stepped up to be a hero, one whose face was unknown even to her; Tony had specified it in the contract, he told her with a grim smile when she asked to meet him.
When she walked past one of the many televisions in the office, however, she very nearly spat her coffee out. The current news report was on Iron Man, which was fairly normal. What was not normal was that it was a speculation about the gender and sexuality of the pilot, stemming from video of him carrying a man through the air for a joy ride.
Critically Pepper listened to the newscast and watched the footage, letting out a breath of relief when there was no property damage or any injuries. That made her work a little easier. Except who was the man, and what was he doing with Iron Man or Tony?
She had certainly never seen him before. And oh, she would remember a backside like that, never mind the almost impossible physique that his wet clothes clung to like a second skin. The one picture of his face that someone had gotten from a car they sped alongside was too blurry to make out much, but from the color proportions he was most likely handsome. What could be made out was his position: one arm wrapped tightly around the suit's shoulders and one extended in a wave at the camera, while his feet stood on the boots. That must have been difficult to maintain.
With a sigh, Pepper found herself backpedaling through the doors and telling Happy to take her to Tony's house. This had better be good.
What she got was something else entirely: a smell of eggs, bacon and toast wafting out of the kitchen to make her mouth water. Had Tony gotten a cook in the meanwhile? Whoever they were, she was thinking of asking for some of that.
What she found was a tall, blonde haired man with an almost impossible physique turning his head to smile shyly at her from in front of the stove. "Hello," he said with a faint Brooklyn accent, "You must be Miss Potts?" That he even knew her name was a surprise.
"Oh, yes, um, who are you?" Pepper stammered, completely unprepared for it. This must have been the man from the video. But what was he doing still… here? Or here at all?
"Steve Rogers. Nice to finally meet you," the man said, offering a hand across the kitchen island.
When she took it, her own hand was engulfed in his firm but gentle grip. His skin was like ice. "I'm flattered that you've heard of me," Pepper replied, still gobsmacked by this whole thing. Weren't Tony's days of one-night stands over? And even so, why was this one cooking breakfast? Unless he wasn't a one-night stand, but that was ridiculous…
The man snorted and rolled his eyes toward the staircase. "Tony talks about you a lot," Steve explained fondly, "Do you want some coffee or breakfast before you go down to find him?" He was awfully nice about this…
Pepper wasn't sure what to think, honestly. "I think some bacon would do," she compromised, having already drank her coffee. She was trying to cut down for her blood pressure. Being Tony Stark's PA wasn't working wonders on it.
"Have at it," Steve told her with a sheepish smile, pushing a plate piled high toward her. It was seriously stacked nearly a foot tall.
No matter that she would have loved to take the whole plate, Pepper allowed herself three pieces. "Thank you, Mr Rogers," she said politely, examining the newcomer further as she munched on a rather crispy slice.
"Not a problem, ma'am." He went back to the stove, whistling cheerfully as he poured eggs from a large bowl into a skillet that, if Pepper was correct, was covered in bacon grease. That couldn't be healthy.
As she watched and slowly ate, she took in the little gestures that defined a person. In this case it was the way Mr Rogers hummed an unfamiliar song to himself, the precise movements of his arms as he scrambled and then flipped eggs, the strangely old-fashioned way he dressed in khakis and plaid like he was from the fifties or earlier. Sure, he was good-looking (obscenely so) but not Tony's style. Her employer was generally caught bringing home women, or the occasional man, half his age from bars and having her escort them out the next morning.
"So Mr Rogers," Pepper began, determined to get to the bottom of this.
"Steve, please," the man interrupted with a sunny smile. He put more eggs onto what was already a huge pile of them, and then cracked more.
"Steve," Pepper tried again, and found that the name fit him, "What are you doing here?" She was intentionally blunt, wanting to know exactly what he had been told. It would be a nightmare if he got mad when she inevitably had to show him the door, it looked like he had footballs in his biceps.
"Of course he wouldn't tell anyone," Steve muttered, obviously not meant for her ears, before he clarified, "The government asked him to give me house room, from what I understand. They're trying to get me back out into the world." The look in his eyes was bitter as he turned back to the stove.
Okay, there went what Pepper had been thinking. "What?" she squawked.
"My circumstances are pretty unique. You might want to ask Tony more, since I'm a stranger and you probably won't trust a word out of my mouth," Steve told her with a sort of black humor that had undoubtedly made Tony very fond of him.
"Alright, I will," Pepper agreed, getting back to her original mission: question her boss. Relentlessly.
"Can you bring this down to him, please?" Steve requested, shoveling a mound of eggs, a pile of bacon and a stack of toast onto a plate. With a fork, some salt and pepper, and a glass of orange juice it went on a tray, which was pushed across the kitchen counter with a distinctly pleading look. Things must be awkward between them.
"Sure." Pepper indulged him, reaching for the tray. There was no way Tony would eat it, he just didn't ever eat, but it couldn't hurt.
"Oh, here." Steve loaded another plate onto the tray. This one had a few more slices of bacon. A mischievous wink and a second glass of orange juice followed.
Unable to resist the call of more bacon, Pepper thanked the man and took the tray down the stairs to the lab. On the other side of the security wall she saw Tony, looking less healthy and more harried than ever, dictating something to JARVIS. When he noticed her there, his face brightened up and he mouthed a command to let her in.
The doors slid open and Pepper was admitted. There seemed to be more random, misplaced components than ever around two new suits, each laying on a table in the middle of the room. Stats were wiped from the screen with a word from Tony.
"What can I do for you, Pep?" he asked, like he didn't know what kind of a media storm Iron Man had caused.
"Explain, now," Pepper demanded, laying her phone, and the tray, on the workbench in front of him. The screen featured a story about Iron Man's new, unknown (to the media) conquest.
When he looked at the headline, Tony smirked. "Must be a slow day," he mused, scrolling through the page.
"What is going on here?" Pepper asked, stressing the importance of these events. For Stark Industries, image is everything.
Finally, Tony seemed to take it seriously. He pushed her phone back at her and leaned back in his chair, back cracking as he did so. "The feds asked me to host Steve until he got back on his feet. Got back in touch with the world, I guess," he explained, pulling up files on the computer as he did so, "He wondered what it was like to go flying, so…" He shrugged, giving no further excuse. It was on a whim.
That made Pepper more upset than it should have. "You called your pilot over just to give someone a joyride?" she hissed. If she knew the pilot, she would have made a mental note to send him a fruit basket and make sure he got a bonus.
"Well, yeah. What else would I do, get in the suit myself?" Tony snorted and waved the thought off, going back to his screens.
"I would say I can't believe you did that, but I'd be lying," Pepper sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. If this was what she knew she was going to get when she came over, she would have skipped it altogether. "So who is Mr Rogers anyways?" That was what she wanted to know more than anything, seeing as he was the one in the kitchen with the knives.
"JARVIS, play file TFA two," Tony instructed in response.
A projector lit up and began to play a piece of wartime propaganda footage. A man in a helmet with an "A" on the forehead appeared to be giving instructions, pointing at people and then a map laid out on a truck hood. If the mask and the star on his chest didn't immediately tell Pepper who the man was, those who surrounded him did: the legendary Howling Commandos, plus a man who appeared to not be able to get out of the frame fast enough.
"What are you trying to say, Tony?" Pepper asked, tired of her employer's mind games.
"Captain Steve Rogers is Captain America," he answered all too gleefully.
"Tony, Captain America was made up to sell war bonds," Pepper responded regretfully. Even though he was at least a decade older than her, it still felt like telling a child that Santa doesn't exist.
"Okay, try this," Tony challenged. From a pocket on the inside of his hoodie he pulled a photo frame that Pepper knew well but had never really looked at. It seemed too personal.
Yes, even when she was taking off his soiled clothing before dumping him into his bed dead drunk, she had always thought that was too big an invasion of privacy. It was the one thing he never showed to anyone that she knew of. That he'd kept, obsessively, since before she knew him.
So when she took it, she knew that was possibly the biggest honor she could get. The back of the frame was littered with shrapnel from Afghanistan, one side burned and the corners all shredded with hard wear; it was older than she knew. Maybe even older than her. When she turned it around, she couldn't help gasping; it was impossible.
The photo was at least thirty years old, from the wear on the paper and the style of uniform the subject wore was from around World War II. But the man in the uniform… If it wasn't the same man making copious amounts of breakfast food, it was a creepy family similarity. Like Tony and his father, the one time Pepper actually looked at photos of them side by side. They had the same eyes, hair, nose… the same everything, except that the man in the photo positively glowed as he looked at someone outside the shot. Most telling, at this man's feet laid a round shield painted with concentric circles around a white star.
"Now do you believe me?" Tony asked with a smugly raised eyebrow.
Pepper hated saying that he was right, and every cell in her body denied it. But looking at this picture and remembering the man upstairs… "Let's say Captain America is, for some reason, upstairs cooking," she proposed, not sure if she should be encouraging this, "How did he get here?"
The answer was another video clip, taken from the helmet cam of the Iron Man suit. Seeing the same man frozen in a block of ice… It sent chills up her spine. No wonder he was so cold, she found herself thinking even before she saw the heart monitor hooked up to him. In the minute or so that she watched people in parkas wave heat lamps over him, there was one blip on the display. Each sent a ripple of shock through her. How could a man be alive in that state?
"He spent nearly seventy years in the ice. Now he's here. Can you keep this a secret too?" Tony asked seriously. Just like when he requested she keep his arc reactor to herself.
"Yeah," Pepper answered faintly, "Yeah… Not like anyone would believe me…" Everyone knew that Captain America had been dead since 1945. It was ridiculous to think that he was cooking (or eating) breakfast upstairs right now.
But the proof was right here in Pepper's hands. At least a form of it. She handed the photo back, watching as it was protectively tucked into Tony's hoodie. "I need to run some more research," she said, not entirely believing what was said to her, "But for right now… If he gives you any problems, I'm perfectly willing to boot him out for you." It was what she did anyways, but if this man has somehow managed to con Tony of all people… May heaven have mercy on him, because she will not.
The smile on Tony's face was dazzling. It was almost blinding, only tempered by Pepper having seen him at least somewhat happy before.
"Be careful," she urged, knowing that he won't listen. It was Tony, after all. Jumping in head-first was just what he did.
It's a bad idea to meet your idols, Pepper thought as she watched him habitually stroke the frame through his sweatshirt. All too often they had feet of clay. With the legends that had sprung up around Captain America since he was lost… No man could possibly live up to that.
All Pepper wanted was to not see her employer, her friend, hurt. He had already been hurt too much in his life.
"Thanks for the food, Pep." It was the closest thing she would get to an acknowledgement.
"If asked, I'll put in a notice about you and Captain-" Pepper was cut off with a wild-eyed panic she had only ever associated with the arc reactor after Stane.
"Steve. Just call him Captain Steve Rogers," he interrupted, shaking his head as he stuffed toast into his mouth, "The world doesn't know much more about Captain America than they do about Iron Man. I don't even know much and I live with the guy. Every answer I get, three more questions come with it." The smile he gave was flinty.
The thought was strange, but no matter how far back Pepper searched in her memory she realized that she had no idea who Captain America was before five minutes ago. Truthfully, she had grown up with the thought that he was a work of fiction. Hearing that he was a real man named Steve Rogers, and he was human enough to cook and eat, was dizzying.
"Hey, you okay? You're not getting sick, are you?" Tony asked, just as flippantly as every other day of the week.
"No, no, I just had all my preconceived notions about a historical figure upended, there's absolutely nothing wrong, nothing at all…" Pepper replied sarcastically, her voice getting progressively higher pitched as she spoke, with her rising hysteria. And she had thought that life as his assistant could get no weirder.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I freaked out a little too when he woke up and said I was dead," Tony told her cheerfully, leading her to a vacant stool with gentle hands on her shoulders.
Pepper took some steadiness from it. "What do you mean, said you were dead?" she repeated, not quite able to comprehend this on top of everything else. Tony looked perfectly alive to her, if in need of some sun.
"It's what he said. 'Tony, I'm home.' He wasn't even fully awake, thought he was dead. How did he know about me at all? And why did he think I was dead?" Tony stared into her eyes with those dark ones that she had been crazy about for so long, expecting an answer that not even he had.
The puzzle only got bigger, the longer that Pepper looked at it. "But how- when-" she cut herself off, preferring to rub her temples with one hand and eat more bacon with the other, "I won't pretend to understand any of it. What I really need to know is if this is going to become another mess I'll have to clean up after." The last thing she needed was to regulate a scandal involving Captain America of all people.
"You won't." It was the most honest that she had ever seen Tony look. So earnest, like a puppy.
More than anything, that was what convinced Pepper in the end. While sometimes he was a little kid in a grown up body, Tony wasn't stupid.
Pepper got to her feet, having made her decision. No matter how strange and unreliable Tony was acting, he was an adult. This was his home and his guest. "Remember Tony, he's just a man. Sure, he's a marvel of scientific engineering, but he's just as human as you and me. Everyone makes mistakes." She paused for a moment to try figuring out how to say what she meant. "Don't let it ruin you when he's not all you imagine." It would positively destroy him.
If anything, Tony looked even more gleeful. "Oh, don't worry about that. He's been here a week and if anything he's better than I ever expected," he said, beginning to chatter like some kind of drunken squirrel hanging off a downtown gutter. There was something bright and beautiful about him that reminded Pepper of exactly why she was so sure she was in love. It told her all she needed to know.
"You're in love with him…" Pepper couldn't keep her mouth shut when she realized it. Of course, the feelings she used to have were irrelevant. Not when compared to the paradigm of humanity. Though she did feel a little better when she realized that she couldn't have competed anyways, with her radically different equipment.
The look on Tony's face changed faster than a presidential campaign's slogan, from sappy happiness to deer in the headlights. It was more than enough confirmation, even without his protests that he has a type, that Captain Rogers very much does not fit. Which was a bold-face lie, since he went for tall blondes more often than not.
"No, no, it's fine. No hard feelings. But why aren't you doing anything about it?" Pepper asked, not quite believing she was having this discussion. She was asking Tony Stark, playboy extraordinaire, why he wasn't chasing Captain America like every skirt in New York (besides her). What had the world come to?
"He's Captain America," Tony answered in a voice that wondered if she was really that stupid.
"And he's stayed, made you food, and been very nice to me despite that you've probably been in the lab for the past week straight or longer and I'm the perfect candidate to take frustration out on," Pepper replied.
Tony didn't look convinced. It was times like this that made her want to bring Howard Stark back from the dead to kill him for what he did to his son.
"I need to head back to the office. But maybe take the chance?" Pepper suggested with a smile. In her shoes she crossed her toes.
With an indulgent, longing shake of his head, Tony saw her out of the lab and then went back to dictating to JARVIS. What he would do without that machine, she wasn't sure.
Up in the kitchen, Steve was eating the biggest spread she had ever seen. That didn't stop him from standing up when she entered the room. Knowing the whole story, the old style attire and enormous amount of food made sense now. The clothes may have even been forties vintage.
"It really was nice to meet you, Steve," Pepper told him with a cheeky smile.
"You as well, ma'am," he replied instantly. The smile he gave her, still shy but this time bright, told her that it wasn't just a formality.
"Call me Pepper," she advised as she walked out the front door. Once in the car, she admittedly squealed and did a little dance in the back seat. She was on first name basis with Captain America. Within a few moments she regained her cool and reclassified him as just another associate of Tony's, but a last thought intruded.
Smirking, Pepper realized that if she could tell him, Phil would be so jealous.
