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So he was in the future.
This organization- SHIELD, which Peggy had made in the time he was in ‘cryostasis’- was keeping him cooped up in a large warehouse. Part of it was hastily converted for medical purposes, another part a mix of books and technology.
After three days, he was going crazy and was still wary of these people, the agents and doctors, and he was having a hard time sitting still, which they were trying to make him do.
SHIELD had cut off what remained of his uniform, and he felt naked without it or his shield. “Scan it to make sure it’s structurally intact” was the excuse given when he asked for it.
He was pacing as he read a history textbook after history textbook the younger agents brought from their American History course. Steve knew it was asking a lot after seventy years, although medicine and life spans had improved, but he had vomited several times after he inquired after someone only to get sad eyes. Even worse were the blank looks. How did that person not end up making it into the history books?
Needless to say, he needed something to do. He folded up pages of notes in all the college textbooks the agents left for him to borrow until the Doctors told him he shouldn’t exert himself by giving impromptu lectures when they came back with questions.
The ping of someone hitting his shield sounded and Steve rushed out of the private quarters they had set up to see a short figure with messy, dark hair talking to this Coulson as it was tossed up and caught repeatedly.
Coulson glanced over this person’s shoulder to see Steve standing there, his eyes widening, the person stopping his tossing.
“........he’s not asleep anymore, is he?”
God, that voice sounded familiar, and it was a breath of fresh air to recognize something.
Coulson nodded, the person turning around, and Steve was pretty sure his face cracked in half as his jaw dropped.
“Howard, they said- they said you were dead, how many other people are still alive, what-”
An angry look crossed Howard’s face- it couldn’t be Howard, his face was too young- was Steve dreaming?
“His son, actually. Grand Ol’ Howard is dead. Has been for twenty, well, twenty-one years.”
Son?
Vaguely aware his jaw was still dropped as an agent raised an eyebrow at him, he hastily shut his mouth.
“Son?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Stark, be nice to the ninety-year-old.” Coulson leaned in, whispering to him.
“Technically, Coulson, he’s what, twenty-three?”
“His driver’s license will get him senior discounts.”
Steve composed himself, walking all too fast towards them, and the man’s grip on the shield tightened slightly.
Now that he was closer, Steve could pick up the differences in this Stark’s face, especially the thinly veiled disgust as he extended his hand.
“The shield should be fine, I couldn’t find any microfractures or structural compromises.”
Stark tossed the shield to Steve, and he caught it, only to see him making a beeline for the exit. Steve opened his mouth again, Coulson shaking his head.
“It’s a long story, Captain. He should be the one to tell it if we can get the two of you in the same room again.”
-
Steve didn’t end up waiting very long.
He wasn’t looking forward to it, especially after an agent talked him through how to google. How could the son of such a great man besmirch the name Stark to the point he had? The man was the son of Howard in the sense that he was a genius, the Iron Man armor a piece of art. His architectural abilities had much to speak for when Steve was finally let out to see New York. But god, what he had done.
And then an alien army was going to invade, the tesseract was in play yet again, and Norse Gods were having a sibling feud.
Steve had glanced into the lab just as this Stark- Tony- poked Dr. Banner with a wire, leaning in to see if he changed. Steve had been given footage of the Hulk destroying Harlem and he was frozen for a millisecond as everything hung suspended, Romanov watching the two of them closely, her body tensed to intervene.
“Are you nuts?”
All the anger poured out of him as he marched into the lab, Romanov turning to now watch him as Thor stepped out of the way.
“Jury’s-”
“Stark, don’t start. We’re already close to tearing each other’s throats out and anger is probably not a good thing to nurture right now.” She gestured with her head at Bruce.
“I was just electrocuted, give me some credit. I’m calm, I’m not going to Hulk out, I’m-”
Stark took a small step back as Bruce composed himself.
“Are you-” Steve continued his march to Stark.
“Captain,” Romanov warned. “I am too old for this juvenile bullshit.”
“He just-” Steve stopped, vaguely waving at Stark and Dr. Banner.
“Played with the possibility of unleashing a force that could compromise the helicarrier and our mission?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what Google is?”
“Yes,” Steve repeated, putting his hands on his hips only to hear laughter from Stark, and he shot him a withering look.
“Tabloids.”
“And newspapers and uh, blogs?”
“I went undercover-”
“I haven’t forgiven you for that, by the way.”
She rolled her head to look at him. “Are you trying to get punched by a super soldier and your-”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
She raised an eyebrow at him and he grumbled before producing a bag, offering blueberries to Dr. Banner.
“-Anyway, I went undercover to spy on him a while back. He’s an asshole, but the media does get some stuff wrong. He deserves the title hero despite his superhuman ability to aggravate everyone in a room.”
“Can you-”
“I am not repeating that.”
“Even if it stops a super soldier from punching me?”
“Stark.”
“A hero? Him? He only fights for himself.” Steve went to put his hands on his hips again, moving to instead cross his arms.
“Well, I am amazing.”
“Banner-” she paused, looking at the ceiling. “Please tell me you have science stuff to make him shut up for at least a minute.”
“I’ll find something, Romanov.” He smiled before grabbing Stark under the elbow, dragging him to another part of the lab.
“Again, anyways- he’s fought since that cave in Afghanistan to right his wrongs and help people his weapons hurt. He doesn’t only fight for himself.”
There was a pause, and she tilted her head, scanning Steve.
“You haven’t read the debriefing from him on Afghanistan and the Iron Monger.”
“I know I don’t turn into a giant green rage monster, but can we not?”
Bruce quickly turned Stark back around.
“I read and watched news reports.”
“The public knows nothing. His company was selling its weaponry under the table to the terrorists. He built that obnoxious red armor to destroy what weapons had gotten into the wrong hands and save hundreds of lives directly. I...borrowed telemetry from his AI of those fights when Fury suspected he wasn't telling everything.”
“Borrowed?”
“Stark, I am trying to make your childhood hero not hate you, please don’t interrupt.”
Steve processed those words. “Childhood hero?”
“Yes, but also...Howard continuously compared Stark- Tony- to you, he wasn’t... a good father to him.”
“Great, tell my secrets about my violent childhood to a Norse god, a great scientist, and you know, him.”
“Hundreds?”
“Directly. Thousands indirectly by removing those weapons from play.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t tell me Captain America is too tough to admit he’s wrong and apologize.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Whatever.” Tony waved a hand at him.
“Translation: he accepts your apology.” She turned to Tony. “Your turn.”
“What did I do? He’s the one who decided to hate me.”
“Tony, what have we said about pointing?”
“It’s a bad habit that could prove disastrous if I did it in my armor.”
“Although you’ve started speaking with your hands less. There’s a definite improvement.”
“Whatever, Natalie Rushman.”
“You sure you don’t have superpowers?”
Tony worked his jaw before sighing. “I’m sorry, Natasha, and I’m sorry, Captain.”
Steve nodded, Natasha looking between the two of them before deciding that’s probably the best she would get the two idiots to acknowledge.