Written to: Hey Brother - Avicii, crosspost from AO3

"You really ought to stop filling his head with trash," Howard commented, leaning against the doorframe of the nursery. Maria stiffened, Tony a squirming, warm ten-month-old bundle in her arms, but didn't look up from the fantasy novel she was reading aloud. "Magic isn't real, and you oughtn't to indulge silly fantasies."

Maria kept her mouth shut about the rather extensive collection of Lord of the Rings paraphernalia that Howard had amassed in his teenage years, and still kept in the wine cellar. Frodo would have the hardest of times getting out of that one, she reflected, bottles of the finest Cabernet and Pinot Noir and Chardonnay to block his exit from the Shire. She wondered if Howard was ashamed of them, if they were reminders of a time when he had nothing and was still struggling to get by.

"He's just a child, Howard," Maria said, trying to keep her tone light and non-combative. "Surely it wouldn't be too harmful if he were allowed a few indulgences here and there along the way."

Howard must have been in a good mood that afternoon, because he just shrugged and disappeared. Maria breathed a sigh of relief as she heard his footsteps echoing down the corridor, began to read again, in a quieter voice.

"What's this?" she asked one evening a week or so later, when Howard plopped a fat stack of comics, still in their plastic sleeves, in front of her. The bright covers depicted a muscular blonde man, a circular shield with a star emblazoned on it hanging from his arm. There was an A on his blue mask, and Maria would never admit it, especially not in front of Howard, but the artists had depicted him with an absolutely lovely pair of legs.

"That's Captain America," Howard said, as she turned the comics over in her hands and Tony banged his plastic spoon against his tray table in the high chair beside her. "Daddy worked with him, you know," Howard informed Tony as he sat down heavily in his chair, allowed Jarvis to uncover a silver dish of steak and potatoes. "He was a hero during the war, before you were even a thought in my mind."

"What kind of work did you do with him?" Maria asked curiously, reading the summary off one of the backs of the books. She wondered if Howard featured in these.

"Am-ca?" Tony asked, looking at Howard and pointing at the comics with his spoon. Howard smiled indulgently through a mouth of steak.

"That's right, Anthony. America. Can you say it again? Cap-tain A-mer-i-ca."

Tony screwed up his face, twisting his little lips as if it would help him pronounce the syllables better. "Ca-tin Am-ca."

Howard shrugged, taking a sip of his red wine. "I suppose that's close enough. Your daddy and he were friends. Sort of. More like acquaintances than anything."

"What kind of work did you do with him?" Maria repeated patiently, turning her attention to Tony and trying to convince him to take another spoonful of mashed carrots. Tony turned his head to the side, and a thin streak of orange ended up on his cheek. Maria sighed and wiped it off with his bib.

"Well, obviously there was the super serum," Howard said, and Maria was a little irritated that this was the most civil interaction they'd had in weeks. "But that was Erskine's work, not mine. If it had been me, it certainly wouldn't have taken so long to develop, and we wouldn't have needed half of Brooklyn's electricity to introduce it into the specimen."

Of course you wouldn't, Maria thought to herself, stopping herself from rolling her eyes just in the nick of time. She only made a small hmming sound, more as a sign that she was listening than as an agreement with Howard. Howard didn't seem to notice, or if he did, didn't care.

"No, what I did with him was nanobots," Howard said, tilting his head to the side and beckoning Jarvis to pour him more wine. Maria caught Jarvis's eye as he bent over the wine glass, saw a sympathetic look there, and turned back towards Tony again. Tony had decided that his skinned grapes were quite aerodynamic, and had taken to throwing them across his tray table and onto the floor. Maria tried to persuade him to eat one instead of throwing it, but he just smiled mischievously at her (and of course she had to smile back, how could she not?) and continued working on his aim.

"They're tiny robots," Howard said, drawing her attention back to him. "They were supposed to work in thought transmission. I told Steve - that's Captain America, just a side note - that they would be used in helping understand thoughts of patients in comas as well as some sort of communication device for these people who were otherwise indisposed to talking. I mean, I had to say something good, he was such a goody two-shoes, you know? It was like we weren't even in war."

"Right," Maria said, wiping Tony's chin with his bib. Tony managed to throw a grape far enough that it bounced off Jarvis's shoe. Maria sighed apologetically, but the butler only smiled at Tony and bent down to pick up the grape.

"I was going to use them for interrogation of prisoners of war, see what they knew," Howard continued noncommittally, no longer seeming to care if Maria was listening or not. "But of course Steve wouldn't have stood for that. So that's the whole thing about the patients in the comas. It didn't end up working, though, so no love lost there. I never got a single signal from him."

At that moment, one of Tony's skinned grapes went sailing through the air, plopped straight into Howard's freshly filled wine glass, splattering red all over his crisp, white, dress shirt. Maria froze, watched the liquid seep into the starched cotton, watched an angry flush creep across Howard's face. Tony didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong, and laughed and clapped his hands at how silly and red his daddy looked.

"Howard, it was just an accident," Maria said, standing up, automatically placing herself in between her son and her husband. "He didn't mean it, did you, Tony?"

Apparently, a fresh bout of giggles from Tony didn't make it any better, and Howard pushed her aside none too gently, roughly unlatched the tray table and tossed the whole lot onto the floor, grapes rolling every which way. He grabbed Tony roughly, knocked away Maria's hands, and stomped away.

Maria looked at Jarvis with anguish, but the butler had already bent down to start wiping up smears of mashed carrot and picking up grapes. She hurried after Howard, and got to the nursery just in time to see him plop Tony down into his crib with a glare and a stern warning to "stay there until he learned to behave himself like a decent person."

Maria made a move to pick Tony up - he was starting to cry, sensing that something was wrong - but Howard grabbed her wrist harshly, and she could almost feel the bruises start to form underneath her milky skin.

"Don't you dare," he snapped at her, and she could smell the alcohol on his anger. "Bad children get punished." This was directed at Tony. "And you can't continue to encourage him like this. I have a son, not a daughter, in case you don't remember."

Maria felt her heart wrench as Howard dragged her from the nursery, and she saw Tony's little fingers reach out from the bars of his bassinet, saw his little anguished face and heard him start to cry in earnest. His wails of "Mama" were muffled by the thick wood of the nursery door as Howard snapped it closed behind them.

"He's only a child, Howard," she argued. "They need comforting and playing and snuggling, and this is not what he needs. Listen to him!"

Howard's eyes were steely as he looked at her. "You don't tell me how to raise my child," he snarled at her. "This," - he raised his arms to either side, indicating the rich decor of the corridor, "is all mine. I have made this for myself through my own hard work and dedication, and I'm not going to let you spoil that with your silly, backwards notions of childcare."

He stomped off down the corridor, and Maria felt tears prickle behind her eyes. She looked at the nursery door, behind which Tony was still crying, and broke out into full fledged sobbing as she leaned her forehead against the nursery door. She didn't enter.

There it was again. The man's voice. There was a woman's voice this time, too, though. She sounded sad, kind of angry, but the man was angrier. And then they left, I guess, because there was a door slamming.

There's a baby crying. It's been crying for a while now. I wonder why the man and woman don't come back...?

I'll try talking to it, but for whatever reason, I can barely form any words. My lips feel frozen, numb, so I guess I'll settle for "Ssshhhh."

...

It stopped crying. Wait. Hold up. I think it's trying to say something...?

"Mama?"

Well, I'm not your mum, that's for sure. I don't actually know who I am, where I am. But I guess I can let you pretend I'm your mum for just a little bit, so you don't keep crying. It's making my head hurt.

"Shhhh."

"Mama!"

Okay, well, you don't have to laugh. But anything's better than that horrid wailing you were doing earlier. I wonder whose kid you are? I'll have to have a stern talking to your parents some time, if I can ever get my lips to move again.