Author's Note: Here we are next installment, I'm sort of falling in love with Cap Tony not going to lie. He's kind of the best of himself, while still being real if that makes any sense at all. This story if turning into a labour of love for sure, and I hope to start to get into the romance soon. For sure be prepared for some Clint/Bruce feels coming soon!
For now enjoy and thank you ravingbeauty for her wonderful work.
That Has Such People
Part IV – Such as we are made of, such we be.
6 months later - Somewhere in the Midwest
The light was fading fast.
Dark eyes squinted, trying to make out the lines on the paper propped up against his knees. As the last of the waning light disappeared, the man gave up and sighed, settling his broad back against the sun-warmed rock where he was perched.
Groaning faintly, Tony Stark stretched stiff muscles as his eyes studied the picturesque view before him. Darkness was beginning to blanket the deep green valley that rolled into the rocky mountains. The moon hung full and heavy, illuminating the basin below.
It had been six months… Six whole months since they had saved the world, and Tony was still trying to come to terms with everything.
Following the battle of New York, the backlash had been staggering. He'd thought fame had been something in his day, but it had nothing on this new time. He'd seen the videos and endless media coverage, not only on televisions, but also on computers and phones… It seemed like everyone had a story or opinion about that day.
And in the midst of it all, the Avengers – a newly formed team, just starting out. It was the infancy of something remarkable… and then they had just scattered to the four winds.
Thor had taken Loki back to face justice in Asgard. Clint and Tasha had returned to SHIELD and whatever it was that they usually did. And the last time Tony had seen Steve and Bruce, they'd been in deep conversation, heading back to what was left of the Rogers-Stark Tower.
Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone except the man out of time, at least.
Fury had returned his old motorcycle to him, a pleasant and welcome surprise. The gesture had come with an invitation for Tony to go see the country, experience what he'd missed, discover this new America he was fighting for.
His motivation to do so, however, was not nearly so noble. The truth was that he had nothing better to do. He felt so lost and directionless, and more than a little homesick for his own time. He may have won the battle, but his own private war was just beginning.
At the time Tony had been rather detached from the situation, trying not to think past tomorrow. He just tried to stay in the moment, the day, and worry about the rest later. And while a lot was fuzzy, he did recall a moment just before he'd left with crystal clarity.
"Hey, Stark!"
Tony paused and turned at the sound of his name. Steve stood behind him, looking every inch the professional businessman he was. His grey suit was perfectly tailored to his form, blond locks meticulously styled. It was a shame dark glasses hid those beautiful blue eyes.
"I, umm… wanted to give you something," the billionaire said, handing over a thick plastic card and something black and rectangular that Tony recognized as a cell phone.
"This is a RSI card, no limit. Feel free to use it whenever," Steve explained. Then he held up the phone, "And this has all the numbers you'll need, Cap. When you get tired of seeing the world, we'll be here."
Surprised, and more than a little touched by the gesture, Tony accepted the items.
"Well, see you around, Cap. Good luck with your road trip," the man said, turning with a jaunty wave.
Tony watched him go, feeling rather settled and centered for the first time since the battle.
He still held onto that feeling all these months later.
Smiling softly, Tony pulled out the device he'd been given, expertly checking the time. It had taken him the better part of a month to figure out how the thing worked. In the process he'd learned that the world seemed to run on these tiny devices. He could almost hear Howard laughing at him.
Howard. Hell, he'd love to be here. Tony felt his heart twist in his chest at the thought. "You're probably getting a kick out of this, aren't you, brother?" he mumbled.
Watching the stars twinkle brightly amidst the inky black, his mind wandered restlessly over the last half year. He'd learned a lot by crossing the country over the last six months – both good and bad. It was still rather overwhelming to him. Despite his work with the Avengers, he still felt utterly useless. This new, high speed, shock and awe America didn't seem to want or need Captain America any more.
And why would they? They had superheroes for their own time – heroes like Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and even Thor.
Tony was laboring under no delusions; he knew he was a relic of a bygone era. He didn't even stand a snowflake's chance in hell of figuring out the 21st century. Hell, he had barely been able to keep up with Howard and Joe in his time. And Steve made them both look like amateurs.
Steve.
At the memory of the man he smiled unbidden and looked down at his half-finished drawing; it was a rather heroic pose of Iron Man, hands raised as he blasted away an as of yet unfinished attacking alien.
He'd filled almost three sketchbooks since leaving New York. Drawing had always helped him express his feelings, slowly untangling that knot in his chest. He'd never really been good at vocalizing his feelings, a trait the Stark men had shared. Tony had found his outlet in art, while Howard found his in creating.
Tony loved what he did. He'd always loved being a comic artist before the war. And later, Captain America's adventures had demanded an audience; his life had been better than fiction.
Absently running his fingers over the drawings, he carefully closed the book and looked upwards once more. He wondered what the others were doing. More specifically, he wondered what Steve was doing. Had the brilliant man thought of him these last months? He sure as hell had been thinking of Steve.
One large hand absently reached into his pocket to pull out a half-empty pack of smokes. Sticking one in his mouth, he lit up and exhaled into the cool night air. Watching the glowing tip, he thought of big blue eyes and an over-confident smirk. He'd thought of the man a lot. Probably more than he should.
Tapping ashes on the rock, Tony puffed away as his thoughts drifted aimlessly. He felt like he'd seen and done what he needed to out here. And the truth of it was that his greatest fears had been confirmed; there was really nothing for him anymore.
Everything he'd known… all gone. All he had in this world was a group of unusual people waiting for him in New York.
Carefully stubbing out his cigarette, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, "Maybe it's time to go home."
-#-#-#-
Huffing, Steve Rogers pulled back from his work. He pushed back his shield squinting critically at his weld. Satisfied with the result, he grunted and shifted back to his workbench, where a mug of cooling coffee waited. Sipping the tepid liquid, he found his eyes drifting toward a nearby screen, where a stationary blue dot blinked innocently back at him.
"Captain Stark hasn't moved in several hours, sir," JARVIS stated, his calm tones echoing around the now silent lab.
Frowning, the inventor snorted, "I can feel you judging me, JARVIS."
"I would never, sir," the AI replied smoothly.
A smile twitched Steve's lips as he set the coffee aside. Giving up his pretense, he settled before the monitor and focused on the beacon, a small light that indicated exactly where Tony Stark was at any given moment.
Tony Stark.
The man had been almost constantly on his mind these past six months.
Meeting Captain America had not been what Steve had expected at all. However, he supposed that over the years the man had become more legend than reality. He honestly hadn't been sure what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't the sarcastic, funny, foulmouthed, handsome…
He shook his head sharply and frowned furiously at himself.
"Not good thoughts to have, Rogers," he mumbled, idly scratching at his arc reactor, feeling the now familiar comforting hum against his palm.
Sighing, the billionaire glanced across the lab, idly wondering what Tony was up to. What could possibly be so interesting out there? Steve supposed being asleep for almost seventy years left one with a lot to catch up on. Still, was he planning to come back?
After Loki, he'd managed to tempt Bruce to stay with the promise of a state of the art lab and freedom to do as he pleased. The sometimes rage monster had been happy to accept and, with a presidential pardon in hand, had moved in.
About two weeks after that, Clint Barton had shown up, bag in hand, looking lost and despondent. Natasha had arrived a month later, and Steve hadn't been able to refuse her either. Then, three months ago, Thor had returned to Earth.
Now his once quiet tower was full of life and noise. He tried to pretend he didn't enjoy it.
Still, there was one missing from their number, and Steve felt it acutely.
Captain Tony Stark had gotten them all through Loki, had gotten him through it. When they had been at their worst, when Steve had been at his worst, Tony had been at his best. He could see why men had followed him so unquestioningly. Tony had a charisma about him.
Blue eyes glanced back to the flashing blue light again. Standing, Steve turned and headed back across his lab to where his latest suit modification was in progress. His internal light reflected off the shiny metal surface as he muttered, "When are you coming home, Tony Stark?"
-#-#-#-
Wide brown eyes looked upwards, amazed at the impressive tower. It looked a hell of a lot better than when he'd last seen it. Of course, all of New York looked a lot better than when he'd last seen it. The place had been a wreck, but, as always, this city seemed to bounce back with a vengeance.
Around him, people moved in and out of the glittering structure with purpose, the building alive and well inside the thriving city. Self-consciously, he shifted in his boots and ran a hand through his dark hair. Setting his jaw, he squared his shoulders, "Now or never, Stark."
Taking a breath, he stepped inside and shifted his duffle on his back, tucking his aviators away in his worn leather jacket. Wearing his most charming smile, he walked up to the rather severe lady behind the desk.
"Hello, ma'am," Tony began politely; she immediately pinned him with a glare.
"Yes?" the woman snapped.
Tony maintained his smile. One of the rather unfortunate things about this new century was that it seemed people didn't have time for manners anymore. His mother would have been horrified.
"I'm looking for Mr. Rogers," he continued pleasantly, ignoring her sour attitude.
The well-dressed woman snorted in derision. "You and the rest of the world," she sniped.
Tony held his peace, asking a higher power for patience. "I'm a friend of his. Maybe you could just let him know Tony Stark is here?" he inquired politely.
She blinked for a moment in disbelief, and began to chuckle. "Yeah right, Tony Stark… and I'm the Black Widow," she laughed outright, wiping tears from her eyes. "Go away before I call security."
Tony clenched his jaw, wanting to call the sarcastic woman out on her attitude, to cut her down a peg or two. The words were on the tip of his tongue when he heard his brother in his head once more.
Let it go, Tony.
Sighing, he nodded curtly before he turned and made his way out of the building. Once more out on the street, he fished his small phone out of his pocket. Carefully touching the screen to call up his numbers, he tapped the name Steve Rogers and held the phone up to his ear.
He waited for long moments as it rang and rang, until a recording told him to leave a message.
"Hi, Steve. It's, ummm… it's Tony. I'm here in New York – actually outside your tower – they won't let me in." Chuckling mirthlessly, he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. "Ok, that's all," he said, pulling the phone away and hitting the end call button.
Sighing, he tucked the device away and walked over to a small area clustered with benches, where people in smart business ensembles stood around smoking and talking animatedly. Finding an empty spot, he settled down and tugged out his sketchbook. Opening to a fresh page, he paused and pulled out a cigarette of his own.
As he lit up he felt a smile tug at his lips; at least no one was going to give him hell for smoking here.
-#-#-#-
Far above where Tony sat sketching, Steve Rogers was in the midst of a creative peak. With too little sleep, and far too much caffeine driving him, he had been working nonstop. Creating an array of new arrows for Clint, new fabric for Bruce to try next time he had a green moment, a communication system that ideally could withstand Thor's destructive tendencies, and a weapon that would hopefully appeal to the Widow's more discerning tastes.
These incredible fits of creation would take hold of him from one moment to the next, and he'd immerse himself in his lab, shutting out the world. His entire being focused only on the project before him, he would work like a man possessed.
It had always been both his blessing and curse.
He would create the most fantastic things, but often at the cost of his own wellbeing. On more than one occasion, Peg and Bucky had pried him away to deal with the most basic of life's necessities and remind him there was a world outside the one he had built around himself.
Hunched over his armor, Steve was delicately reworking a gauntlet when the deafening music he'd been blasting was suddenly gone, leaving the lab completely silent. Blinking owlishly, the billionaire looked around; he'd expected Peggy to be standing by the door with a frown on her red lips, ready to chastise him.
No one.
Frowning, he looked now upwards. "What gives, JARVIS?"
"Apologies, sir, but I believe there is a situation that you may want to attend to."
Snorting, Steve waved a dismissive hand, "Unless some megalomaniac is attacking the city, I have people who can handle it."
"Sir, no one is attacking the city, but…"
Out of patience at the moment, the blond ran a frustrated hand through his already ruffled hair. "Then what the hell, JARVIS?" he snapped.
Unaffected by his creator's waspish behavior, JARVIS continued, "Captain Stark has attempted to contact you, sir."
Steve froze, "What do you mean?"
"He called you, sir. Shall I play the voicemail?"
"Yes." Steve swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly terribly dry as he listened to a voice he hadn't heard in far too long.
"Hi, Steve. It's, ummm… it's Tony. I'm here in New York – actually outside your tower – they won't let me in." There was a brief pause and he could hear traffic, sounds of the city, and a sad chuckle. "Ok, that's all."
Steve sucked in a breath, eyes widening impossibly as he heard the words, but the message was slow to penetrate. Tony was here. Here, and - "Why the hell they won't let him in?" he roared, turning immediately to head towards the elevators.
"Sir, might I suggest taking a moment to clean up before dealing with the situation," JARVIS said in his usual tones.
Steve frowned. "Why?" he asked, rubbing at red-rimmed eyes.
"To make a bigger impression." The blond grunted; he had a point there. He would make more of an impact suited up.
"What if he leaves?" he mumbled aloud, unaware he'd given voice to his worries.
"I think not, sir. Captain Stark is currently sketching on one of the benches in the designated smoking area, enjoying the beautiful day."
Steve felt a smile curl his lips, "Smoking, of course," he mumbled while shaking his head. "Yeah, ok. Quick shower and change, then I'll deal with this."
-#-#-#-
Tony cocked his head, studying the drawing before him critically. During his travels he'd picked up some comic books finding today's style had changed vastly from the comics he used to do. He loved the realism of it, the grittiness, the detail.
He'd also come across something they called graphic novels. Google had explained to him that graphic novels and manga, phenomena out of Japan, were really catching on. It was a very different, stylized way of drawing. He found it so intriguing he'd been trying his hand at it, mainly trying to capture the Avengers in a stylized way. It was still new to him, but he figured he was adapting pretty well.
Turning the paper, he mumbled to himself about adjusting lines, changing shadows. He was so far in his own little world that he missed the sudden commotion around him. Oblivious to people pointing and whispering, he unconsciously pushed his glasses up his nose as continued his work, only vaguely aware that someone had settled beside him on the bench.
"So, you're back," a familiar voice spoke.
Tony's hand froze as slowly he turned, recognizing the well-dressed man with sunshine blond hair. A slow, easy grin spread unbidden across his face.
"It would appear so," Tony replied, closing his book and settling back against the bench where Steve was lazily sprawled.
"Have fun finding yourself, Cap?" Steve asked, looking unconcerned behind his expensive sunglasses.
Tony shrugged and offered him a half smile, "I guess so."
Chuckling, Steve looked at him over his glasses, "So, shall we go put the fear of God into the person who wouldn't let you in?"
Tony couldn't help the rather malicious feeling of glee that settled over him. "Absolutely." Putting his book away, he stood and shouldered his duffle.
Leading the way, Steve reentered the building, swaggering like he owned it, which he did. The solider followed behind, both anticipating and dreading the upcoming confrontation. He wasn't really a malicious person by nature, but he did believe in the idea that what goes around comes around.
Reaching the counter, Steve pulled his glasses down his nose and pinned the receptionist with an icy glare. The woman looked up, face pinched until she realized who stood before her.
"Are you the one who refused to let this man inside?" he asked briskly, pointing to Tony over his shoulder.
For Tony it was worth it just to see the look of pure terror that settled on her face.
"I, he…" she stuttered, looking stricken.
"Do you have any idea who this is?" Steve continued, seemingly unconcerned with the whole ordeal.
She looked utterly terrified as her bright green eyes locked on his. "You really are him, aren't you…" she managed.
Suddenly the man from the past felt bad for her. Sure, she had been rude, but still… He guessed he was just an old fashioned guy. Sighing, he laid a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve," he muttered; the woman looked ready to beg for her job.
The billionaire cast him a soft look before turning his steely glare back to the receptionist. "You'll be hearing from me, Miss Johnston," he said briskly before turning and striding away.
Tony offered her an apologetic look before he hurried to follow. He just managed to get inside the elevator before the doors slid close.
Steve was already leaning casually against the mirror-covered wall, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Tony joined him, mindful of his weight against the glass. They were silent a moment as the elevator whisked them upwards.
"You're not really going to fire her, are you?" Tony finally asked, unable to help himself.
Steve grinned, "Nah, I'll just let her worry for a while."
Then the doors dinged open and Steve stepped off with a grand gesture, "Welcome home, Cap."