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Chapter Text

Steve Rogers had his bad days. Captain America – the world’s first super soldier and the first Avenger – never had bad days, but Steve Rogers did.

The others had their days as well, no doubt about it.

Bruce would cart himself off to some isolated region of the world when things got too crowded. He’d leave a note for Tony on the coffee machine and disappear for a week before turning up again, several plates of blueberry pancakes on the table sipping his chamomile tea like he’d never left.

Clint would just stop showing up to movie nights – the one mandatory night a week Steve had forced all the Avengers to come together in the common room and watch a movie – without notice. At first, Steve had been upset. It was his job to know where his teammates were, after all, and Clint shouldn’t just up and leave without letting someone know. But Natasha would name a city – a different one each time – without looking up from whatever she was doing. Sure enough, a week, sometimes two, later, Clint would drop down from one of the vents muttering about the bad weather in whatever place he had just left. It was always the same city Natasha had given, but when Steve asked how she knew, all he received was a shrug.

The Asgardian was less often prone to a bout of gloominess, but even the mighty Thor, God of Thunder, could be found sitting on the roof late at night gazing at the stars. Moping didn’t quite fit the god’s disposition, but the heavy frown and uncharacteristically glum mood spoke volumes of his troubled mind. Even the temptation of a great meal couldn’t pry him from his sorrowful watch. It would only last for a day, then Thor would be back to his overzealous, booming laughter and boisterous charm.

Natasha didn’t like “running from her problems”, so her bad days – which were always less frequent than the others’ – were painfully obvious, literally. She’d be more prone than usual to snap at Tony or Clint, sometimes even Steve, and force Thor into a brutal sparring match. While they recognized her chosen partner as a precaution – she couldn’t do as much harm to the god as she could a normal human, super serum or otherwise – it didn’t make it any more pleasant for the others, who watched from afar as Thor took a serious beating. Thor would insist he harbored no ill will toward the “valiant and agile warrior,” and enjoyed the exuberant challenge. However, he’d always wake to find several exotic flavors of pop-tarts on his bedside table the next day.

Tony’s sleeping patterns had always been unhealthy and borderline manic, so his bad days were hard to narrow down. Sometimes he’d be in his workshop for days, only to be dragged out by Pepper or Bruce, hissing and spitting out colorful insults until force fed and thrown into bed. Other times, he’d awake from nightmares, sweating and pale, only to pace around the common floor with all the lights and televisions on until Steve came up. They’d sit together and Steve would listen to Tony ramble about new inventions, or else wait patiently and nod every so often as Tony tried to describe the differences between quantum theory and general relativity. So, not so different from any other day, but his bad days left Tony particularly jumpy and unwilling to face darkness.

Each team member had their off days, and each knew how to help each other through them. For Steve, he needed time and space from the others. They had all tried to sit with him. Clint would drag him onto the couch and coax him into watching trash television. Bruce would attempt to teach him yoga and meditation. Tony would bring him into his technology-filled world. That was the worst for Steve, as the futuristic lights and machines only further provoked his anxiety.

After the last panic attack led to several of Tony’s new inventions demolished and an extremely contrite Steve, they had left the Captain to his own devices.

This meant Steve laying in bed and Jarvis playing small clips from the past. Sometimes it would be documentaries about the war, or else old television shows from the era, but Steve’s favorites were the little clips Jarvis found via SHIELD’s private database – he had never actually thanked Tony for his hacking, unwilling to encourage such behavior. Specifically, it would be Peggy giving commands or speeches, using her captivating confidence and brilliant strategy to bring a smile to the Captain’s lips.

Today was such a day. The team was in the common room watching Clint’s choice – Wayne’s World – and Steve was lying in bed watching the television in his room play back clips of Peggy Carter.

“Do you have anything outside of SHIELD’s database, Jarvis?” Steve asked after the clip ended.

“One moment, Captain,” Jarvis responded, his accented voice crisp and polite.

Steve watched the screen as it turned black, static running for a brief moment before the image of a brightly lit church flickered on the screen. Steve watched in awe as the camera panned down from the ceiling of a beautiful cathedral to rest on a small group of individuals standing at the altar. Steve eyes could easily pick out the familiar, though older form of Peggy Carter.

Steve sat up to get closer to the screen, drinking in the new sight of Peggy hungrily. She wore a light blue dress with large sleeves and held a small bouquet of yellow flowers while absolutely beaming at a beautiful woman with long dark, slightly curly hair in a flowing white wedding dress. Moving his gaze to the woman, Steve noted her slim features and bright eyes appraisingly before his eyes slid to the man next to her. His jaw dropped.

Howard Stark bounced on the balls of his feet in giddy anticipation with a silly grin on his face. Stave scrambled out of bed to stand in front of the screen, his mouth agape. “Peggy was at Howard’s wedding,” he said to the empty room.

He snorted then, because of course Peggy would be in Howard’s wedding. They had been good friends. Steve glanced back at the women – Maria – Steve reminded himself, to search for the resemblance to her son. It was the eyes, he realized, watching her face carefully. Tony looked very much like Howard, though Steve would never admit it to him, but he had his mother’s eyes.

He moved to gaze back to Peggy now, taking in her form, ridiculously happy to note she still wore bright red lipstick. He continued to watch as a priest began a ceremony and grinned as the new couple kissed for the first time, a pang a sadness clenching his heart as he watched his friend. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding, Howard,” Steve whispered, depression swallowing him again as he watched his friend’s happy faces.

The recording ended as Howard and Maria walked out the church and into an expensive looking old car, Maria waving from the front seat to the crowd. Peggy waved back enthusiastically, tears in her eyes. Steve placed a hand gently on the screen, longing to actually touch Peggy as she stood, still waving exuberantly after the disappearing car.

Steve stood for several moments after the screen faded to black, his hand still pressed against the cold television.

“Jarvis,” he called quietly.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Why haven’t I seen this before?”

“Sir just acquired this tape, Captain. I did not have it in my databases until quite recently,” Jarvis explained.

“Oh.” Steve considered that for a moment before asking, “Where did Tony find it?”

“Ms. Potts delivered several boxes from Sir’s father’s collection when she returned from Sir’s Malibu property last week.”

An idea suddenly sprang into Steve’s mind, excitement bubbling in his chest. “Does Tony have more videos like this of Peggy?” he asked hopefully, lifting his head to the ceiling. “If she was in Howard’s wedding, they were surely friends after.”

“Sir does have a small number of private home collections that feature Peggy Carter,” Jarvis replied after several seconds, the AI sounding hesitant.

“Well, let’s see them!” Steve said, oblivious to Jarvis’ hesitance. “How come you’ve never shown me them before?”

“I am sorry, Captain, but I cannot show you any videos from Sir’s private collection,” Jarvis responded, sounding genuinely contrite.

“What? Why not?”

“They are part of Sir’s private collection,” Jarvis repeated, as if this was enough to deter the man.

“Why would Tony hide videos of Peggy?” Steve asked, dumbfounded. In fact, why hadn’t Tony told him he knew Peggy? Steve considered this. They had been living together in newly refurbished Stark Tower for almost a year. And while Tony and Steve hadn’t been on great terms in the beginning, Steve considered the man a friend and teammate. That Tony had been hiding this for a year seemed strange. And hurtful.

“Sir has his reasons,” Jarvis replied. The AI sounded completely resolute.

“Fine,” Steve huffed, turning from the television. “I’ll go ask him myself.”

“Captain, I would suggest against such questions,” Jarvis replied quickly. “Sir would not welcome the intrusion.”

Steve ignored the AI, moving quickly out of his room and into the elevator, pressing the button for the common floor.

“Captain, I strongly advise against this course of action,” Jarvis tried again.

“It’s Peggy,” Steve responded, clenching his jaw. “I won’t just give in without trying.”

The door opened and Steve could hear Clint laughing and Tony chuckling. Coming to the edge of the large den, Steve stood in the door just in time to watch an ugly man with long hair say, “Well thank you for being on Wayne’s World, it was informative and stimulating,” with a dry tone, as if reading from cards.

“Tony,” Steve called, looking to the man curled up in a recliner with a tablet in his lap.

“’Sup, Cap?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“What’s in it for me, Spangles?” he asked, not looking up from his screen.

“You get to keep your fingers,” Steve responded, flinching as his tone came out harsher than he had planned. Tony looked up from his tablet to peer over at him, a brow raised.

“What would you want with my fingers, Cap?” he asked, the light teasing tone not matching the calculating gaze the genius was now giving him. “They can do so much more when they’re attached.”

“Tony,” Steve said, a tight frown on his face.

“What’s wrong, Steve?” Bruce asked, looking between the two with a concerned frown. “What did Tony do?”

“Wha – I didn’t do anything!” Tony said indignantly, putting down to tablet and looking affronted. “I left him alone all day, just like you told me to.”

“Ton –“

“Maybe that’s just it,” Clint interrupted before Steve could finish. “Maybe he wanted you to ‘bother him’,” he continued, using air quotes and winking at Tony.

“That’s completely –“ Steve spluttered.

“Ridiculous,” Tony finished. Steve nodded. “All he had to do was ask,” Tony continued, smirking at Clint.

“So you admit that you wouldn’t mind ‘bothering him’,” Clint fired back, his own smirk lighting up his face.

“Deviant sexual acts with the Tony Stark would never be qualified under ‘bothering’ anyone,” Tony grinned, wiggling his eye brows.

“Tony, stop –“

“Unless you’re Captain America, it would seem,” Clint said, nodding to Steve, whose face was getting redder by the minute. More from anger than embarrassment, however, contrary to what Clint and Tony seemed to think.

“Oh especially if you’re –“

“STARK!” Steve shouted, startling the room into silence. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD VIDEOS OF PEGGY?”

Tony Stark just gaped at him, his mouth hanging open. Steve felt slightly ashamed at his outburst, but his anger had gathered enough steam and, coupled with his conflicting emotions from his bad day, he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop glaring at the man.

The man, however, completely shut down. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, bringing his tablet up again, running his fingers over it and burying himself in the recliner.

“Don’t you lie to me, Stark,” Steve said, advancing on the man. “I know you have them.” He stopped just in front of the chair, but didn’t get any response. “Jarvis told me,” Steve added.

Tony glared at the ceiling. “Traitor,” he said, before turning back to his stark pad.

“I want to see the others,” Steve said, unrelenting.

“There aren’t any…” he trailed off, jerking up to stare at Steve. “ Wait. Others? You saw one already?” he demanded, putting the tablet down and glaring.

Steve had the sense to feel embarrassed again before pushing away the annoying emotion. “Yes, Jarvis showed me Howard’s wedding.” Tony actually cringed.

“Sir, the video in question was uploaded exactly 9 days ago,” Jarvis informed the room. “You had yet to implement proper restrictive codes, thus, Captain Rogers was able to access it.”

“You had no right –“ Tony began, his voice rising and his brows furrowing.

“Howard was my friend!” Steve argued, temper darkening every second. “I would have been there if –“

“Yeah, yeah, if you hadn’t been so wonderfully heroic and saved America and all that is freedom and greatness,” Tony finished, his tone laden with sarcasm, his eyes dark. “But the point is, you weren’t there. You were a capsicle. You don’t get to –“

“Damnit Tony!” Steve shouted, stepping forward and grabbing the man by his arms and hauling him up. “I know I wasn’t there! It’s been made painfully clear that I missed out on my best friend’s lives. Missed out on my life. Don’t think for a second that I forgot I wasn’t there. Every damn time I see you I’m reminded that I didn’t get to live my life, didn’t get to live those moments with my friends, didn’t get to have a FAMILY!”

Steve shook him slightly at the last word, his eyes glazing over as he thought back to the night that should have happened, the dance lessons he should have had, the woman he should have held.

“You got to be part of the family I wanted,” Steve continued, desperation replacing the venom of earlier, thinking of Peggy’s place at Maria and Howard’s side, waving farewell as they sped away. “You can’t take that from me, then hold those precious few images hostage. You don’t get to be that selfish.”

A hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed. Steve blinked. The images faded and he realized he was holding Tony by the arms, the man’s feet barely brushing the ground. Steve gasped and released him in an instant, Tony collapsing onto the recliner and leaning back, away from Steve.

“Tony… I,” Steve started, his eyes wide and shame burning through him. “I didn’t –“

He couldn’t continue at the look on Tony’s face. The normally sly and confident countenance was stripped, leaving behind a completely broken man. His mouth was slightly agape, the vision of surprise. But it was his eyes that held complete and utter desolation and self-torment.

“Tony –“

Steve reached out, immediately regretting the action as he saw Tony flinch away. Shame was tearing a hole in his chest as the genius’ face still held such blatant hopelessness – so entirely opposite, so eerily wrong on Tony’s face.

“Steve,” Natasha called from behind him, her tone tight with anger. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man standing in front of him.

“Rogers,” she growled, grabbing his forearm and tugging. “Let’s go.”

He allowed himself to be turned around by the assassin and led back out into the hall, his steps sluggish and thoughts scattered.

What did I do? How could I have done that? What exactly did I say?

“Wait.”

Steve turned at Tony’s voice, hope rising in his chest. What he would give to hear a witty remark or a sarcastic quip.

Steve watched as Tony held his face carefully blank and closed. “I’ll warn you – you won’t like what you’re going to see. Even if you do get a glimpse of your precious Peggy,” he said.

Steve could tell Tony had attempted to put venom in his words, but the billionaire just couldn’t muster any hate as he spoke Peggy’s name. Instead, his voice cracked, emotion spilling onto his face again – this time pain and grief. “I hope it hurts,” he spat, regaining some control before marching straight for Steve.

He half wished that Tony would hit him. No, he definitely wished Tony would hit him. He didn’t. Tony brushed right past him, not even looking at him, before barking out, “Jarvis, I revoke all restrictions to my private video files under code 73449.”

Silence followed his words as Tony stepped into the lift, keeping his eyes on the ceiling until the doors shut.

The first to move was Bruce, who groaned softly and lowered his head into his hands. Clint was next. “That went well,” he said, his tone missing its usual sarcasm. “Well done, Cap.”

Steve strode to the couch and mirrored Bruce’s posture, more a reflection of writhing guilt than sadness, as Bruce’s seem to be. Natasha kept her position by the door, standing stiffly in the center.

“Well,” Clint began, flopping down on the other end of the couch as Bruce and Steve. “Are we going to watch?”

“No,” Steve hissed, looking up to Clint to stare daggers at him.

“Tony said we could,” Clint argued.

“No,” he repeated.

“You sure worked hard to get access,” Clint said, raising a brow. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

“There must be a reason he didn’t want us to know,” Steve said, his voice low, remembering Jarvis’ soft ‘Sir has his reasons’.

“Jarvis?” Steve called, hesitant.

“Captain,” the crisp voice answered. Steve must have been imagining the clipped tone of the AI. Surely a computer couldn’t be angry with him. He mentally scoffed. Tony Stark built that computer, he reminded himself. Of course it could be angry with him.

“Why didn’t Tony want us to see these videos?”

“An apt question, Captain. Perhaps you should have asked Sir.”

Silence. Yes, Steve thought grimly, Tony had definitely been capable of building a computer with the ability to be angry. No one spoke for several minutes.

Then, the television flickered to life. “Captain, Dr. Banner, Agents,” Jarvis began, his tone cautious and a good deal hesitant. “Sir has ordered the video files to be played.”

Steve whipped his head up, staring aghast at the screen. “Wha – no, Jarvis – I don’t think – “

“Sir has requested the videos be played, Captain,” Jarvis interrupted. Steve just stared, unsure if he wanted to run from the room, or allow his curiosity to get the better of him.

He had always wondered why Tony held Howard in such disdain. It had been painfully obvious Tony and Howard didn’t get along – but wasn’t that normal of teenage boys and their fathers? Steve didn’t know his father, so he couldn’t be sure. Bucky was always complaining, and surely Tony would have been just as… ah, difficult, if not more so, than Bucky.

Before he could decide if he wanted to leave, the fuzzy screen changed to show a vast wooden dining table with a tiny Tony Stark sitting at the head, a paper hat atop his head, a large cake in front of him, and none other than Peggy Carter ruffling the young boy’s curly dark hair.

“Happy Birthday, Tony dear.”

To Be Continued

Author’s note: I hope that was an interesting start! This is my first Avenger’s fic, so please leave a review and let me know how I did!

This kind of happened on accident when I was brainstorming for my other story – Between Freedom and Loyalty – when I couldn’t quite figure out where I wanted to go. For those of you waiting for chapter 35, omg I’m terribly sorry for the delay, please don’t leave me! It’s happening, I swear.

I’m planning on two more chapters in total for this story, so hang in there. Also, I’m contemplating in a very tiny part of my mind having this be a Tony/Steve pairing, but we’ll see how it goes. I haven’t really set anything up for that here, but…we shall see.

Please leave a review, let me know how I did, and thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

“Happy birthday, Tony dear.”

Steve’s eyes were glued to the television screen where Peggy Carter was smiling fondly down at a very young Tony Stark. Steve couldn’t help the small smile forming on his lips as he took in the child’s appearance.

Tony Stark couldn’t have been older than 5 years old, his tiny form bouncing in obvious exuberant energy. He was so very small, Steve thought, narrowing his eyes to take in delicate wrists attached to thin arms and a narrow shoulders.

Where the child lacked in size, he compensated with bright energy. The current Tony Stark was rarely still, but this Tony practically vibrated. Dark brown eyes lit up in childish glee as he eyed the small cake with excitement. “Thank you, Aunt Peggy,” he all but squeaked, his voice displaying both his gratitude and enthusiasm.

Steve’s eyes were captured by Peggy’s bright smile as she fondly swept away several dark curls that had escaped into the child’s eyes. “I’m glad you liked it, baby.”

Steve, Clint, Bruce, and Natasha watched keenly as Peggy moved to cut the cake – a bright red and blue frosted circle that looked home made. After serving a slice to the child, Peggy held out a piece, looked directly into the camera and said, “Here, Jarvis, come take a slice.”

All four Avengers’ brows shot up in surprise as the camera was jostled slightly and handed over to Peggy before an elderly man in a suit jacket entered the frame. “Thank you, Ms. Carter,” the man said with a smooth British accent, moving to stand next to Tony and picking up a fork. “It is delicious,” he added, smiling at the camera after he took a bite.

“Yeah, Aunt Peggy,” Tiny piped up, blue frosting covering his mouth. “It’s perfect!”

The group heard a light chuckle from behind the camera. “Who knew Stark was so damn cute,” Clint huffed, grinning slightly at the screen. Steve had to agree with Clint’s observation. Young Tony Stark was absolutely adorable – there really wasn’t any other way to describe the kid.

“Why don’t you open your present,” Peggy’s voice called. At her suggestion, Tony’s eyes lit up and the bouncing became even more pronounced. “Present?” he cried, cocking his head to the side.

The man named Jarvis left the frame for a moment before returning with a small gift-wrapped box. “To you, young sir, on your birthday.”

The look of pure happiness on the child’s face warmed even Steve’s dark and heavy heart. Tony took the box with a quiet, “thank you, Jarvis,” before prying the wrapping open with infinite care, not a single tear in the paper.

Once unwrapped, the box opened to reveal a simple dark blue t shirt, its back facing the camera. By the look on Tony’s face, however, you would think the child had set his eyes on the most precious gem in the world.

“What is it, Tony dear?” Peggy asked, a smile evident in her voice. Tony looked up into the camera with wide eyes. Turning the shirt around, he presented a large t shirt with an image of several red and white circles surrounding a large white star.

Captain America’s shield. Steve gaped at the picture, more interested in Tony’s apparent reverence toward the shirt than the actual shirt itself. The child’s eyes glowed and he clutched the material to his chest before turning heartfelt, watery eyes to the man next to him. “Thank you so much Jarvis,” he said, still holding the shirt to his chest.

“You are very welcome, young sir.”

Tony stood up on the chair -- ignoring a half-hearted reprimand from Peggy – and tugged off his current shirt, quickly switching it out for his new Captain America shirt. The fabric was too long on the small child, easily coming down to thighs. The sight was perfectly endearing, and Steve grinned at the screen.

The child beamed triumphantly before sitting back down, eying his new shirt with pride. “Now I can be like the Captain,” he grinned, putting both fists on his slim hips.

Peggy chuckled. “Of course you can, Tony dear.”

But then Tony’s face fell slightly as he looked down at his hands, frowning. “But I’m not very strong,” he admitted, looking up to the camera to frown at Peggy. “I can’t be a hero if I’m not strong.”

Steve’s heart clenched as Tony stared into the camera, his tiny body bringing back his own insecurities before he had the serum.

“Oh Tony,” Peggy sighed, the camera jostling slightly and Jarvis stepping forward to take it. “No, baby, that’s not what makes him a hero.”

Tony cocked his head again before staring down at himself, eyes morose. “But the Captain is big and strong and saves everyone,” he insisted. Peggy put her hands over his, bringing them to her chest.

“No, baby,” she repeated, smiling sadly at him. “It’s your heart that makes you strong,” she insisted, tapping her fingers on his small hands where they were held against her heart. “Steve had the biggest heart, and that’s what made him strong.”

Steve felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes and he willed them away. How he wished he could really live up to her idea of him. I didn’t show any strength of heart today, he thought, shame filling him again as he remembered his outburst.

The young Tony on the screen sniffed, but he smiled past the wetness in his eyes, nodding fiercely at Peggy. “Okay, Aunt Peggy,” he said softly.

The camera was jostled again before the screen turned to static, signaling the end of the video. The four Avengers sat in silence, each digesting the images they had seen. Steve was shocked to see that young Tony had apparently idolized him, something he hadn’t ever pictured, and something that definitely didn’t carry on further into Tony’s life.

“Where were his parents?” Clint asked suddenly. Steve turned to look at him, the man’s brows furrowed, still staring at the screen. “Why weren’t his parents celebrating his birthday?” He looked to the others, but none could offer a response.

“Mr. Stark was often gone for long periods of time during Sir’s early childhood,” Jarvis responded. “And Mrs. Stark was involved with many projects that required her presence away from the family home.”

Silence reigned again. “And Jarvis?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“No, I mean,” Bruce gestured to the screen. “That Jarvis,” he amended. “Who was he?”

“Mr. Edwin Jarvis served in the British Royal Air Force during World War II, before eventually making his way to the United States after the war. He served as body guard to many elites before applying and receiving a job with Mr. Stark as his personal body guard,” Jarvis replied. “His primary role was transferred to the protection and care for young Sir when he was born.”

Steve considered the man appraisingly for several moments, recognizing now the military stature in his posture, glad that younger Tony had someone there for him along with Peggy. It ached to know that Tony, who had two parents, apparently rarely saw them. What would draw a father away from his own son, Steve wondered.

“And his name was Jarvis,” Clint said slowly, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes,” the AI replied.

“So is yours,” Clint pointed out.

“Very astute, Agent Barton,” Jarvis said dryly. Steve gathered than the AI wasn’t entirely finished with being angry with them.

“Now, I have the next video ready to begin,” the computer continued, the screen flickering to life again.

Steve’s stomach plummeted in fear, dreading what more could come.

To Be Continued

Author’s note: A rather light chapter! Be prepared for much more angst in the coming chapters, however.

I’ve decided, in order to give you all something to read quickly, I’ll release a chapter for each “video” Tony has. Meaning, instead of writing just three chapters, as I originally had planned, I’ll be posting 6 chapters in total.

I’m writing these as a short break from writing my longer story, so I’m thinking I’ll be able to post up a new chapter every few days, so look forward to updates!

Thanks for reading and please review!

Chapter Text

The grey static blinked away to show a very dirty but very pleased Tony Stark. The youth, several years older than the previous video, grinned triumphantly at the camera, dark eyes bright and captivating.

Steve recognized the almost manic gleam in the child’s eyes, having seen it countless times in the adult Tony’s eyes when he completed a difficult project. Steve smiled as young Tony lifted his screw driver in the air and swiped at his curls, leaving behind a large streak of grime across his forehead.

“It’s finished, Aunt Peggy!” he exclaimed, bringing his gaze down to the large engine resting on the floor of a large workshop.

“Well done, Tony dear,” Peggy’s voice cheered from behind the camera. “It’s marvelous.” The child practically oozed pride and happiness as he stared at the camera.

“Where’s dad?” he asked, bouncing slightly where he sat, his head turning to gaze off camera. The hope in the dark eyes was obvious and Steve’s heart went out to the child, hoping, no, pleading, that Howard was there to marvel at the boy’s accomplishments.

“Is that a completed engine?” Clint piped up, eyes narrowed at the screen.

“Yeah,” Bruce replied slowly, “but it looks like it has…”

“It’s a V16,” Natasha supplied. Steve looked to her, brows furrowed. “That’s not possible,” he argued.

“Not in the 1940s, Cap,” she responded. She nodded to the screen. “It’s a transverse V16 midmounted with its transmission mounted in the middle of the V16,” she explained.

“So,” Steve said slowly, turning to look at the screen, “it’s a V8 sandwich.” Natasha just nodded. Steve stared at the small boy on the screen, hair and face covered in oil but shining with accomplishment. Well, Steve reasoned, they all knew Tony was a genius.

He was pulled from his musings when the boy perked up and called, “Dad! Look, it’s –“

He was cut off by the man entering the frame, his feet unsteady beneath him, and a drink in his hand. Steve stared as Howard Stark stumbled up to his son, literally looking down at the child with a frown.

“Took you long ‘nough,” he slurred, nodding at the engine and sloshing some amber liquid onto the floor. He paused, his shrewd eyes observing the engine. “Wha’ is this piece o’ crap ‘nyways,” he mumbled, glaring at the engine.

“Howard,” Peggy clipped, her tone sharp.

“It’s a V16, Dad!” Tony piped, looking up at his dad with wide, earnest eyes. Steve’s stomach clenched at the desperation in his voice and eyes, the hope falling away quickly as he gazed up at his father. “I made it all by myself,” he added, a hopeful smile forming on his lips.

“And it’s wonderful, baby,” Peggy said, her voice strained, the camera stepping closer. Tony gave her a half smile before turning back to Howard. “Dad –“

“It’s not good ‘nough!” Howard yelled, his voice slurring and his drink sloshing dangerously in his loose hand. “How’re we s’pposed to find –“ the man hiccupped violently.

“…Steve with tha’,” he finished, swaying slightly. Steve’s eyes grew wide as he stared at his friend.

Bruce and Clint turned to Steve, an identical look of horror on both their faces.

“Howard,” Peggy said again, “that’s not something Tony should –“

“No!” he cut her off, gesturing wildly around the work shop. “This is the utmos’ prior –“ he hiccupped again. “…p’iority. I don’ have time to deal with useless pieces o’ junk,” he spat, venomously, glaring down and gesturing at Tony again.

Steve’s heart utterly shattered at the desperate, hopeless, and broken gaze of the child as he stared up at his drunken father. “Dad,” Tony pleaded, tears filling his eyes. “Dad, I promise,” he sniffed, rubbing his nose with an oily hand. “I promise I’ll help you find the Captain,” he finished, tears spilling down his face. “Please, Dad just –“

“Are you crying?” Howard yelled, taking a menacing step toward his son.

“Howard!” Peggy cried, setting the camera down haphazardly on a nearby surface. The lens shifted down, showing the Avengers just Howard and Peggy’s legs, but a full view of Tony, who still sat on the floor next to his project, desperately wiping his face.

“Wha’ did I tell you ‘bout crying,” the man howled, taking another step toward his son. Peggy moved to intercept the man, her legs coming to stand protectively in front of the child.

“Stark men are made of iron, An’tony,” Howard spat, appearing to struggle with Peggy. Howard’s hand brought down the glass into view of the camera, looking as if he was going to throw it. “Howard, don’t –“ Peggy began, her torso coming into frame as she reached for the glass before it could fall.

She didn’t catch it in time, and the glass shattered against the floor of the workshop, amber liquid spilling and glass flying in all directions. Tony flinched away from the harsh sound, a strangled sob escaping his throat and more tears spilling down his face.

Steve watched in complete horror as Howard Stark used Peggy’s distraction to his advantage and took a step forward, his hand coming down to slap Tony across the face.

The sound of his hand hitting his son’s face sent all four Avengers to their feet.

“Howard Anthony Stark!” Peggy screamed, turning and dragging the man away from Tony, whose hand had come up to cover his smarting cheek. “What did I tell you about this!” she shrieked, succeeding in pushing Howard back several paces before shouting, “Jarvis!”

Amid her efforts to keep Howard back, Jarvis appeared in the frame, his face carefully blank, making his way to Tony.

“Come, now, young sir,” he said softly, bending to help the child. Steve watched Tony as the child just continued to stare, heartbroken, down at his engine, ignoring the man.

In the background, Steve heard Peggy continue to berate Howard. “What would Steve say if he were here,” she shouted at the man. “How dare you continue with this ridiculousness! That is your son, Howard!”

Steve physically flinched. He should have been there, he berated himself. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been gone, he thought.

“Tony,” Jarvis finally whispered, tugging on the child’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said, managing to get the youth’s attention. Tony looked up and sniffed, his face hardening in determination. He nodded stiffly, wiping at his face again with his shirt sleeve.

His shirt. Steve actually cried out when he realized that Tony was wearing the same blue Captain America shirt he had been gifted several years prior – the color a very faded blue, the material thin and warn, now fitting his larger frame.

Jarvis led the boy closer to the camera, the last image showing Tony’s resolutely blank face before Jarvis’ hand blocked the lens and the screen went blank.

The room was filled with silence except for the hard breathing of four very angry Avengers. Steve finally sat back on the couch, covering his face with his shaking hands, willing himself not to cry. Bruce crumpled down beside him, his frame shaking.

Steve could hear Natasha whispering quietly to Bruce, no doubt trying to calm the man. Clint was silent. Someone sniffed.

“How old was he?” Bruce suddenly asked. Steve looked up to see the man looking to Natasha.

“Nine,” she replied, looking back to the screen, as if she could still see the small child. “At nine years old, Tony Stark built the first working V16 engine. Five years earlier,” she added, looking back to Bruce. “He built his first circuit board.”

Steve let the information sink in, the brilliance of Tony’s mind overwhelming him slightly.

“That’s where he was,” Clint said suddenly, bringing Steve’s head up again to look at the man. Clint, in an uncharacteristic gesture of sorrow, held his head in his hands, his eyes squeezed shut.

“What?” Bruce asked, looking as confused as Steve.

“Yes,” Natasha responded cryptically, laying a hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“What?” Bruce repeated, looking to Steve now. He shrugged.

“Howard missed Tony’s birthday,” Clint clarified, not looking up from his position. “Because he was searching for Cap.”

Bruce paled. Natasha looked resigned. Steve felt…overwhelmed. He recalled Tony, young, tiny, innocent Tony, pleading with his father, promising his help with finding…me. Steve hated himself.

This was the reason Tony had hid those movies, Steve realized. ‘I hope it hurts,’ he had said. It did. It burned, ached, and bruised, Steve thought. Bruised…Steve’s stomach clenched as he remembered the horrible sound of Howard hitting Tony.

“What did I tell you about this,” Steve repeated quietly, remembering Peggy’s words. Bruce looked to him in confusion. Steve only had eyes for Natasha, however, who still sat with her eyes trained on the screen.

“You knew?”

Natasha turned to face him, eyes dark and angry. She nodded.

Steve just stared, aghast. “How?”

Natasha closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The files we have on Stark did not explicitly state that…” she fell silent before gesturing to the screen. “That that happened, but from the few sources we recovered and the brief psychological analysis we had done on him, it was agreed that Tony Stark suffered from at least a minimal amount of child abuse at home.”

Steve returned his head to his hands. How could Howard have done that, he wondered morosely. The Howard he had known wouldn’t have ever…

‘The Howard you knew and the Howard I knew were very different people.’ Tony’s warning words several months ago rang in Steve’s mind. He had asked the man about Howard’s death – finally mustering the courage to face the question – and he had received a very dry and emotionless answer. When asked why a son would care so little about a father, Tony had responded as such.

Steve cringed at the truth staring at him from the television.

“How often?” Clint asked, his voice tight in anger. No one answered. He looked to Natasha, but she shook her head. “Jarvis?” he asked, looking up.

The AI was silent for several moments. “I am unsure, Agent Barton,” Jarvis finally responded, his mechanical tone contrite. “There are no hospital records to reference, and Sir resolutely refuses to answer any questions regarding any incidences.” Steve didn’t think he was imagining the bitter and angry tone infused in the last word.

As unrealistic as the feeling was, Steve was suddenly very glad that Tony had an AI to look after him now. He didn’t think this Jarvis would allow any harm to come to Tony without doing all in his power to stop it, including calling for help.

But Tony didn’t just happen upon Jarvis, Steve realized sadly. He made Jarvis. He created the computer because there wasn’t anyone else to take care of him. Because I wasn’t there, he thought bitterly.

That can change, he thought forcefully, looking up to meet the gaze of Bruce, Natasha and Clint. It has changed.

“If you are ready, Captain Rogers,” the AI said, his voice almost wary.

As ready as I’ll ever be, he thought grimly, now terrified of what he would see next.

The blank screen flickered on.

To Be Continued

Author’s note: Pretty dark chapter here. Hang in there, we have a few more difficult ones to go. I hope you all liked it, please review!

As a disclaimer, I know very little about engines, and am unsure if a V16 was actually “impossible” to make at the time. They are, in fact, real, and incredibly difficult to make work, so I figured it would be unheard of back in the 70s and 80s – so I chose that. Canon in the Marvel Universe, Tony Stark did make his first circuit board at age four, and his first engine at age 9.

Chapter Text

The blank screen flickered on. Steve was even more hesitant to watch than he was before the first video, but now he was determined to sit through it all. If only to understand Tony better, Steve would endure the rapidly changing perspective he had for his old friend.

After all, Steve thought, Tony was the one who actually had to endure though all of this. Steve was damn sure he was going to watch everything, then start to repair all the hurt he’d caused by his absence.

The video flickered to show a small auditorium filled with people standing and cheering at a raised stage. Standing on the stage with a brilliant smile and bright eyes was Tony Stark. Steve smiled along with the child, his heart warming at the pure elation on young Tony’s face.

Steve had rarely seen the man look so happy, he thought. The young boy might actually be in danger of floating away, Steve chuckled, watching the bouncing youth.

“Which means,” a man announced, his voice magnified by a microphone. “That the first place medal goes to St. Mary’s own…” he paused, turning to Tony and smiling. “Anthony Stark!”

The cheers and applause drowned out the rest of the man’s speech, especially as the whooping and cheering of the woman holding the camera left Steve to cover his ears. Grinning, he heard Peggy Carter shout out, “That’s my Tony! Well done, baby boy!”

At the shout, Steve saw Tony, whose eyes were searching the audience, finally find Peggy in the crowd. Warm eyes sparkled brightly as the young man waved enthusiastically at the camera, his bouncing increasing as a bright gold medal was placed around his neck.

Steve had a silly grin on his face, the warmth pooling in his heart as he relished in the support and appreciation that young Tony was receiving.

After several moments of blinding happiness, the boy’s eyes began to wander from the camera, searching with a hopeful shine in his eyes to the left and right of the camera. Steve’s heart clenched when Tony’s eyes suddenly lost their shine and his little shoulder seemed to slump as his search ended.

The utterly defeated look in the child’s eyes cleared after just a moment – leaving Steve to wonder if it had even been there at all – and Tony was back to waving happily to the camera and smiling.

The camera stayed on Tony for several seconds before suddenly going black. The scene changed then to the sleek interior of a car, the camera focused on Tony, his bright medal hanging around his neck and hands enclosed around a small robot.

“So, young Mr. Stark – genius extraordinaire,” came Peggy’s crisply accented voice, “how does it feel to win first prize in New York’s Bi-Annual Techno-expo?”

Tony giggled and his hold on the robot increased for a moment. Steve’s grin widened at the sound, surprised that Tony could make such a cute noise.

The child’s grin softened a bit and he looked down at the robot. “Do you think Jarvis would be happy?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Oh baby,” Peggy sighed, her hand coming into frame to stroke Tony’s hair. “Of course he would be. He would be honored to be remembered so.” Tony’s head came up again and he smiled brightly, his eyes slightly wet.

“Then it feels great,” he responded, his grin turning cheeky as he looked at the camera. He turned back to the robot and turned it to face him, his brow furrowing for a moment while he fiddled with some nobs.

With the robot’s back turned to the camera, the four Avengers’ eyes widened at the view. A circular shield covered the robot’s back, its red and white circles surrounding a white star, obviously hand-painted onto the metal.

“Is that?” Clint asked, grinning at the screen.

“Hush,” Natasha hissed, swatting the man. Bruce chuckled, turning to Steve with a small smile. Steve just gulped, pushing down the rising emotion as he gazed at a smaller replica of his shield.

Tony finally pressed something on the robot’s front and grinned. The robot’s head came up and his arms rose before saying, “How may I be of assistance,” in a stiff, robotic voice that held a slight British accent.

“What’s the weather report, Jarvis,” Tony asked, beaming at the robot.

“It is precisely 68 degrees Fahrenheit, sir,” the robot responded.

Steve stared open mouthed at the screen, realizing that he was looking at the first prototype of the current Jarvis.

“Hey!” Clint said, grinning and looking up at the ceiling. “Look, it’s baby Jarvis! You didn’t tell us you were so cute!”

“Thank you, Agent Barton,” the AI responded smoothly, its tone slightly amused. Steve chuckled.

“Tony created an AI at…” he paused, looking back at the screen to gauge Tony’ age. “Ten?”

“Actually, Captain, Jarvis Mark I was not an artificially intelligent robot,” Jarvis explained. “Merely a robot capable of responding to several pre-programmed inquiries, such as weather, time, and date.”

“Still,” Bruce said, “it’s extremely impressive for a child.” Steve nodded fervently, recalling what he was doing as a ten year old.

His attention was drawn back to the video when the view of a large wooden front door appeared and Tony pushed it open to reveal a huge foyer decorated with expensive, elegant taste.

“Mamma,” young Tony called, looking around. The camera jostled as the sound of the front door closed and Peggy called out, “Maria?”

Steve watched as the duo made their way into a vast sitting room, the expensive décor giving the appearance of luxury, but stiffness -- a definitely lack of home and warmth in the perfectly prim and clean space. Definitely not Tony’s style at all, Steve noted, remembering the messy, cluttered space of Tony’s workshop, living room, and bedroom.

“Antony? Peggy?” a soft, accented voice called. The camera turned to show a beautiful woman with olive skin and slightly curly hair walk down the stairs. Steve recognized her from her wedding video – though several years had passed and elegant wrinkles lined the corner of her lips and eyes. “Che cos’é?” she asked, halting her progress to look down at her son. What is it?

Clint whistled appreciatively. “Dude, Tony’s mom was hot.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “And Italian,” Clint added. “Did you know Tony could speak Italian?” he asked Natasha, turning to the assassin. She just shrugged.

“Tony dear has something to show you,” Peggy informed the woman, her voice warm.

“Mamma, incontrare Jarvis!” Tony piped up, his voice giddy. Mommy, meet Jarvis. “Jarvis, tell Mamma what day it is.”

“Today is Friday, October 6,” Jarvis’ mechanical voice replied.

“Questo interessante, Antony,” Maria said, her voice light and disinterested, beginning to retreat back up the stairs, a large phone in her hand. Steve frowned at the woman. ‘That’s interesting’ didn’t come even close to an adequate response to Tony’s achievement in Steve’s humble opinion.

“Aspetta, mamma,” Tony called, stepping closer to the stairs. Wait, mommy.

“Sono occupato, Antony,” she called, waiving a hand softly, retreating up the stairs and pressing the phone to her ear. I’m busy, Anthony.

“Come on, Tony dear,” Peggy said quickly, her hand reaching out again to land on the child’s shoulder, steering him in the opposite direction. “Let’s see if we can’t upgrade Jarvis’ wiring.” Though Steve could tell she was trying to remain cool, there was a harsh, steely edge to her voice.

Tony’s slumped shoulders led the way through another small sitting room, and eventually into a large kitchen. “Jarvis,” Peggy called, “what time is it?”

“It is 6:45pm Eastern Standard Time,” the bot replied evenly. That perked up Tony slightly, as he grinned down at his creation, squeezing it lightly. Then, his eyes brightened even further and he looked up to the camera.

“Let’s show Dad!” he exclaimed, the former energy and excitement capturing the child again. “He just came back this morning, right Aunt Peggy?” The excitement was infectious, and Steve couldn’t help but grin at the bright eyes and hopeful smile.

“Tony,” Peggy said slowly, almost hesitantly. “Your father is likely to be tired.”

“Yeah, but he will want to see Jarvis!” Tony argued, beginning to bounce again. “I can show him my medal.” Steve’s stomach began to squirm as Peggy didn’t respond, nervous at Tony’s expense.

“Let’s go!” Tony said, turning around, leading Peggy and the camera out again. The camera bounced along with Peggy’s strides and the four Avengers got a glance into the famous Stark mansion in all its former grandeur. Finally, they stopped outside a large oak door and watched as Tony rapped his knuckles against it, calling out to his father.

Despite the lack of answer, Tony pushed open the door.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Clint guessed, frowning at the screen. Steve too had a foreboding feeling in his chest, but held his gaze to the television.

The large study was dark, only a small desk lamp illuminating the room and its sole occupant. Howard Stark sat back in his chair, his head in his hands.

“Dad?” Tony asked hesitantly, stepping into the room. “I made something,” he announced, gaining more courage and walking up to his father’s desk. Placing the robot down on the smooth wood, Tony took a deep breath and said, “Dad, this is Jarvis.”

Howard took his head from his hands to look at his son. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was haggard, his beard untrimmed and displaying a general sense of weariness. His gaze flickered down to the robot and his brow rose.

“Jarvis?” he repeated, his voice empty of any emotion.

“At your service, sir,” the bot replied. That brought at least a flicker of emotion to the man’s face.

“What is this, Anthony?” he asked, looking to his son. “I have things to do.”

“I created him,” Tony explained, clasping his hands behind his back and grinning.

“Tony wont first place in this year’s Techno-Expo, Howard,” Peggy offered from behind the camera. “His design beat several experts and many advanced candidates.”

Howard scoffed, leaning back in his chair and observing the robot on his desk. “This thing won?” Tony’s shoulders drooped again. “What does it even do?”

“Jarvis can respond to several preprogrammed questions with real time answers and can preform automatic updates to his software by himself,” Tony rattled off quickly, his hands clasping and unclasping together behind his back. “I even coded him to have reoccurring sleeping habits!” he added, excitement bubbling up through his voice.

“What good is that?” Howard scoffed.

“I just thought…” Tony said, fumbling. “I thought he would be more human-like that way,” he explained, his voice almost pleading.

“That’s exactly right, dear,” Peggy said quickly. “Isn’t that right, Howard?” she added, lightly, but with a clear you-had-better-agree-with-me-or-so-help-me tone.

Howard gave the camera a weathered look and huffed lightly, but picked up the bot and examined him. “Hmm,” he hummed, observing the workmanship. Tony perked up at the soft sound, his shoulder straightening. The boy looked back toward the camera to grin widely at Peggy, hope and excitement warring for dominance on the young boy’s face.

The man turned the bot around and his face darkened as he observed the hand-painted shield. “What is this?” he hissed, glaring accusingly at the robot.

Tony frowned in confusion for a moment. “It’s Captain’s shield,” he said.

“I can see that,” Howard spat, glaring now at his son. “But I can’t imagine why it would be plastered on the back on such a ridiculous thing,” he continued.

Tony gaped at his father, his frown accompanied by quivering lips. “I wanted…I thought, well…” Tony stammered, a blush now creeping up his neck. The camera jostled around a moment before it was set on its side, the room turning 90 degrees and Peggy entering the frame, coming to stand next to Tony.

“Jarvis is going to be with me all the time,” Tony continued, wringing his hands together again. “And I wanted a little bit of the Captain too…” Tony’s voice faltered as the blush intensified before breaking eye contact with Howard.

Howard stood up quickly, pushing the chair back and startling the two -- Tony jumping a bit and Peggy’s shoulders tensing minutely, her hand flickering to her side.

“You think your pathetic little science experiment is good enough to wear the shield?” his voice boomed. “You had the audacity to cover that useless piece of junk with the symbol of Captain America – the greatest icon and hero America has ever seen?” Howard’s voice was edging on the side of hysterical now, his hands gesticulating vehemently as he raved.

Steve wanted to punch the man. So what if Tony painted his shield onto the robot? Such an advanced piece of technology was worthy of the shield, even more so knowing that Tony made it, Steve mused, glaring at the screen.

“You dare disgrace Steve’s image with this piece of junk?” Howard continued, his eyes wild and dilated.

“Howard Stark,” Peggy’s low voice warned, her grip tightening on Tony’ shoulder. “Calm down right now,” she commanded.

“Nothing is worthy of carrying the shield except Steven Rogers!” Howard shouted, hysteria woven in his tone.

At this, Peggy grasped both Tony’s shoulders and pushed the youth toward the door, whispering quietly in his ear.

“No,” Howard yelled, coming around the side of the desk and making his way toward the pair. Steve’s hand clenched into fists as the man moved. Beside him, Bruce mirrored his motions.

“No,” Howard repeated, taking hold of Tony. “The boy needs to learn some respect,” he hissed, succeeding in turning Tony around. “Nothing,” he hissed, lowering his head to glare at Tony in the eyes, “is worthy of Captain America. Especially some scrap metal created by a worthless excuse of a –“

In one smooth motion, Peggy Carter pulled Tony from Howard’s grip and punched the man square in the nose, a loud crack echoing through the study.

Steve gaped, Bruce gasped, and Clint gave a loud whoop! “Now, that’s my kind of woman!”

The humor disappeared quickly, however, as they turn their attention back to the television.

Howard Stark wiped away the blood trailing from his nose with a sneer. “Get out,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “And don’t come back.”

“You can’t kick me out, Stark,” Peggy hissed.

“I can and I will,” he retorted, moving to clamp a hand down on Tony’s shoulder. Steve felt his stomach clench as Tony flinched. “You will leave my house this instant,” Howard continued, squeezing Tony’s shoulder in silent threat. Peggy glared.

“She won’t leave,” Clint said, eyes wide. “She can’t leave Tony.”

Steve just watched as Peggy contemplated, her brow furrowed and her fists clenched.

“If you enjoy your home, current bank account, and your status as a free woman,” Howard hissed vehemently, “then I suggest you turn around this moment.”

“Aunt Peggy,” Tony whispered, his arm reaching out. The sound utterly broke Steve’s heart and he felt tears gather.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Howard sneered, tightening his hold further, causing Tony to flinch again, “you will leave this house right now.”

Peggy just stared, and Steve could see her brain working, trying to find a solution. Finally, Peggy closed her eyes and Steve knew.

Peggy Carter knelt down and kissed Tony lightly on the forehead, her eyes scrunched closed. “I love you, baby boy,” she whispered quietly. “And I’m so proud of you.” Opening her eyes, she gazed at Tony for a second longer before standing swiftly and walking out of the frame.

“No!” Clint yelled, standing and pulling at his hair. “What is she doing?”

Part of Steve agreed with Clint – how could Peggy leave when she was all Tony had? But another part – the part that knew how much damage a man like Howard Stark could do when pressed – knew she made the right choice.

Tony wrestled in his father’s grip, his voice calling out desperately, “Aunt Peggy!” before letting loose a soft sob. The child gasped, fear flashing in his eyes, and quickly wiped at his face, stiffening his shoulders and closing down his face.

“What was that?” Howard asked, his voice low and dangerous. Tony just held himself stiff under his father’s hands. “Were those tears?”

Tony shook his head violently in denial. Howard spun the boy around, bending down to reach eye level, and brought both hands to the side of Tony’s neck – the boy flinching minutely. Steve ached at the sight.

“Stark men are made of iron.”

Steve actually growled at the screen as he watched Tony gulp, straighten his shoulders, and ground his jaw. The child was struggling to cover the tidal wave of emotion, but all the physical control did nothing to wipe away the utter misery swimming in the depths of Tony Stark’s eyes.

“But,” Tony whispered, his voice hoarse. “Aunt Peggy –“

“Quiet!” Howard shouted, giving Tony a quick shake. “That woman is never coming back!”

This cracked the fragile resistance Tony had created, shattering the carefully blank façade with a wave of tears. Tony tried to cut off the soft sob with a sharp inhale, but the tears kept coming and the child brought both hands up to cover his face.

At the sight of his son’s tears, Howard lost all semblance of control. The four Avengers watched in open-mouthed horror as the man pushed away from Tony and began tearing up his office – sliding files and papers off the desk with force, backhanding the two containers of pens, and chucking the cord phone against the wall.

“ABSOLUTELY WORTHLESS…WEAK…PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A STARK…” The man couldn’t form whole sentences, instead he just threw insults at his son, who still stood near the door, tears running down his face.

Howard kept a steady stream of words, but Steve could only focus on the child now huddled into himself, his hands still covering his face. It struck him then that he’d seen that posture on the man once before.

Fury had just thrown Phil’s bloodied trading cards on the table and Tony had walked out, snarky words thrown over his shoulder as he made a quick exit. But as Steve followed him, prepared to chastise the man for his insensitivity, he had caught the sight of the him down a deserted hall. Tony Stark had folded in on himself, shoulders coming forward and hands covering his face as he leaned again the wall of the empty corridor.

The parallel sent Steve spiraling down further into grief and…god the guilt. It ate away at him more than the dark depression and loss of his friends ever did. What have I done? he repeated, the words forming a mantra in his mind as he watched young Tony Stark huddle by the door to his father’s office.

“ – and this thing.” Howard’s vicious tone brought Steve from his self-deprecating thoughts. He looked up to see Howard grab the robot from Tony’s grasp, the boy letting out a small sob as he lurched forward in protest.

“Pathetic,” Howard spat, tearing off one of the bot’s metallic arms. Tony whimpered. The sound brought pain for Steve, the corners of his eyes prickling. He blinked.

The man took apart Tony’s robot piece by piece, throwing the bits down onto the floor at Tony’s feet. The boy just stood, dejected and morose, his shoulder slumped and eyes brimming with tears.

Finally, Howard tore off the shield attached to the back. Tony stepped forward, reaching out and whimpering a soft, “Jarvis.”

“If you want to be useful,” Howard spat the last word, his face contorting with a fierce mixture of rage and pain. “Make something great. Make something worthwhile. Making something to find Steve. Then maybe you can come in here expecting praise.”

Tony reached out slowly, hesitantly, and took the shield from his father’s hands before cradling it to his chest. The image blurred, confusing Steve for a moment, before he realized his tears had eclipsed his vision. Blinking, his vision cleared as warm tears flowed down his cheeks, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

“I promise,” Tony said, his voice soft and desperate. “I’ll help find the Captain, Dad.” Bruce choked back a quiet sob, his shoulders shaking. Steve moved his hand – fighting the heaviness that had snaked its way into each of his limbs – and rested it on the doctor’s shoulder, rubbing soft circles to calm him.

“Stop crying,” Howard hissed, stepping closer to Tony, his eyes wild and manic. Bruce hiccupped and returned his gaze to the television. Steve’s hand on his friend’s back clenched as Howard moved his hands to Tony’s shoulders, giving them a solid shake.

“What have I told you?” he asked, his voice low. Tony sniffed, screwing up his face in concentration as he tried to stem the flow of tears. Howard gave his another shake, repeating his question. Tony let out a shuttering gasp as another tear escaped his eyes and flinched just before…

Natasha let loose a string of Russian slurs as Tony was slapped. Clint stood from the couch, pacing quickly with restless energy. Bruce buried his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

Steve fought back a sob of his own, stifling the sound with the back of his hand as the screen blurred from his tears.

“Stark men,” Tony said, his voice thick, “are made of iron.”

“Good,” Howard said, his voice gruff. “Now get out.” Howard turned away from Tony and moved to his desk. The boy just clutched the shield tighter, looking down at the scraps of his robot.

“GET OUT!” Howard repeated, slamming his hands on the desk. Tony jumped back, shoulders hunching and hands bringing up the shield. The automatic response absolutely broke Steve’s resolve. Bowing his head, he covered his face as silent tears escaped as he mourned for the child that would become his friend. Mourned for his friend who became a monster.

Steve was pulled from his morose thoughts by a harsh gasping. Looking up to the screen, Steve saw that Tony had managed to leave and Howard Stark had fallen back into his desk chair, his hands coming up to his face, and choked sobs escaping his mouth.

The defeated pose lasted only seconds before the man lifted his head and began shuffling the papers around his desk. His face held a mad panic, fury, grief, and exhaustion. Hands finally fell on a thick file and the man promptly buried himself in a report, muttering under his breath frantically. “…haven’t searched the whole area…could still be under thicker sheets…artic wind speed up to 43 kilometers per hour…snow pack 50 meters…”

The video feed went dark after several more seconds of technical and mathematic rambling.

“There is nothing of interest past this point, Captain,” Jarvis’ smooth voice informed them, making Steve jump slightly. “The tape continues for six minutes and forty-two second until the battery dies.”

No one responded. Steve and Bruce both jump as the sound of the coffee maker is heard from the kitchen. Both men whip their heads around, thinking that the genius had come up from his workshop.

“I have taken the liberty of providing warm sustenance, Captain and Doctor Banner,” Jarvis explained quickly, before either could leave their places on the couch. “My scanners indicate such would be welcome, given you current states.”

Steve chuckled – the sound coming out more like a sob – and thanked the AI softly. Natasha moved to the kitchen, coming back with several mugs, and handed them out to Bruce, Steve, and Clint before curling up on the couch, nursing her own mug.

Faced with the silence from his teammates and the glaring guilt, Steve focused on the mug in his hands, blowing on the dark liquid. He didn’t really like coffee, but needed to do something, even if it was just drink.

Taking a quick sip, he paused. Not coffee.

“Correct, Captain,” Jarvis replied, causing Steve to jump, not realizing he’d voiced his musings aloud. “Sir keeps hot chocolate for those less inclined to his preferred choice of caffeinated relief.” Steve smiled weekly down at his mug at Jarvis’ response, warmed both by the chocolate and by the thought that Tony went out of his way to accommodate his preferences.

Whatever glimmer of happiness he felt fell away quickly as guilt suffused through his chest. An entire year of living, eating, training, and saving the world with Tony Stark, and how much did he really know the man?

The words Steve had yelled at Tony were griping his heart, great vines tearing and ripping at him. ‘You got to be part of the family I wanted’ – the words tasted bitter even as they played through his head. And so utterly wrong. Steve had been so very, extraordinarily, completely, downright wrong. Tony didn’t have any semblance of a family.

And Steve knew who’s fault that was.

“All because of me,” he breathed, fighting back a sob as he covered his face again.

“Steve,” Natasha chided, resting a hand softly on his head. “This was Howard Stark’s doing, not yours.” She smoothed his hair back in a surprising gesture of affection, petting his hair gently.

“I’m an awful, terrible, horrible human being,” he huffed into his hands. “All those things I said to him –“

“You couldn’t have known,” she assured him softly. “He didn’t want us to know.”

The silence in the room continued, broken only by Clint’s soft footfalls on the carpet as the man continued his pacing, and by Bruce’s deep breathing as he attempted to control his emotions.

Steve continued to wallow in his despair – the older hurts he had been nursing earlier in the day, the pain of losing his past, was nothing to losing a friend in the present. There wasn’t any way, Steve mused miserably, that Tony would speak to him after this.

“Captain,” Jarvis called, his tone soft and hedging on contrite. “There is one more video I am to show you.” Bruce groaned.

Steve didn’t think he could handle any more. He mentally chastised himself – if Tony was forced to suffer through this, then Steve wanted to know all the wrongs the youth had suffered. He would watch and learn, then work his hardest to make up for them.

Clint returned to the couch next to Bruce, who sat up to watch the screen with growing apprehension. Steve squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. Natasha stayed on the arm of the couch, moving her hand from Steve’s head to his shoulders, standing guard as best she could.

The screen flickered to life.

To Be Continued

Author’s note: Oh the feels! Please review – let me know what you think. We’re in for one more video, then we’ll be back with Tony.

Please let a review!

Chapter Text

Elbows on his knees and hands covering the bottom half of his face, Steve watched the screen flicker to life with trepidation. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he worked to control his grief and steady his resolve.

The video opened with loud music and cheers, causing Steve to jump and Natasha’s hand to clench for a moment. A second to adjust and Steve grinned sheepishly as a large orchestra played the chords of Pomp and Circumstance in an outdoor amphitheater, bright sunlight and green trees surrounding a huge crowd.

The camera wandered briefly through a long line of young men and women donning sweeping black gowns and golden-tasseled caps before halting and zooming in on one figure.

Tony Stark, clad in black cap and gown, was weighted down by three cords and two sashes around his neck, but the weight didn’t seem the bother him. A bright smile adorned his lips as he sauntered across the stage, the familiar Stark charisma and confidence in every stride and nod of his head.

Steve narrowed his eyes to study Tony’s face, surprised by the youthfulness compared to his fellows. Round cheeks had given way to angular, handsome features, and dark curls splayed across his forehead – the wild tangles same as they had been years before. Steve grinned at the young man.

The grin faltered slightly as he noted that Tony’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and was pulled too tight – a familiar sight for Steve. That was the smile of ‘Tony Stark – genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’, and not Tony.

“Shit man,” Clint said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Tony looks young.” Steve nodded.

“Nineteen,” Natasha said, her voice void of emotion.

Clint whistled, leaning back in his chair and looking at the screen appreciatively.

“With two master degrees,” Bruce added, smiling softly at Tony on the screen.

“Jeez, Tony,” Steve said softly, seriously impressed with the man’s genius and dedication.

Eyes on the screen again, the team watched quietly as Tony and the other graduates took their seats on the stage. An elderly man crossed the stage and began a short speech announcing the successes of the class, the bright future each student had in store for them, and the pride that the administration harbored for the group.

It sounded awfully dry to Steve, but having never graduated himself, he couldn’t judge the ceremony properly. The video focused on Tony mostly, the camera zooming in on his face as the youth’s eyes roved around the crowd, a long-suffering look of boredom on his face.

The flat eyes suddenly caught the gaze of the camera and Steve felt his heart tighten as the brown eyes widened and promptly filled with moisture. A real, Tony, smile brightened his face and the tenderness in his eyes left Steve reeling with affection.

The soft, open features lasted only a moment before the emotions were reined back in, though not with the usual force or previous lackluster interest as before. Tony still smiled at the camera, even bringing his hand up to wave slightly.

The camera jostled violently as the holder waved fiercely, slender hand a blur of motion on the screen. Tony’s face melted again slightly, the warm affection and bubbling happiness suffusing across his features at the camera holder’s enthusiasm.

“Oh Tony dear,” Peggy’s voice sounded from behind the camera. Steve grinned at the sound of adoration in Peggy’s voice, and he hoped fiercely that this wasn’t the first time they had seen each other since the previous video.

“Jarvis,” he asked, suddenly needing to know.

“Captain?”

“Why aren’t there any videos between this and the last one?”

“I have no video on file of Sir from the age ten until now,” Jarvis explained. “No private home collections,” the AI clarified. “There are news clips of sir’s accomplishments and several of his antics.”

The disembodied voice clearly contained disapproval, and Steve could guess what kind of antics the genius had gotten himself into, knowing the man.

“And Peggy?” Steve asked, his tone soft and hesitant.

“To my knowledge, Sir and Ms. Carter did in fact see each other on occasion, outside the Stark Manor of course,” the AI said, a lilting bitterness in his final words.

Steve released a breath, relief flooding him momentarily.

“Are his parents there?” Clint asked suddenly, fingers tapping his knee.

“They are not, Agent Barton,” Jarvis replied, his computerized voice soft.

Steve watched as Tony’s eyes moved to scan the crowd around the camera, coming to this realization himself just a moment after Jarvis’ response. Steve remembered the crushing disappointment that ten-year-old Tony Stark had shown when his father hadn’t shown up to his award ceremony, and was expecting something similar.

He was thus surprised when, instead of sadness, relief blossomed on the youth’s face for a moment before it was carefully smoothed away. Anger quickly followed Steve’s surprise, as his mind ran wild with the possibilities behind Tony’s relief.

The four watched in silence as names were called and young men and women walked across the stage to accept their diplomas, smiles on each face.

Finally, the announcer called out, “Anthony E. Stark, dual masters in physics and electrical engineering.” Steve grinned at Peggy’s loud cheers and fanatic clapping, watching as Tony strolled across the stage – a bemused and plastic grin glued to his lips – and accepted his scroll with a firm handshake. As Tony was about to step off the stage, he turned to Peggy, giving her a wide, real smile and winked. Steve chuckled.

The video cut to black for a second before returning to show Tony lounging easily in the back of a luxurious car, grinning mischievously at the camera.

“Congratulations, Mr. Stark,” came Peggy’s voice, light and teasing. “What great acts will you be performing, now equipped with your ‘dual masters in physics and electrical engineering’?” Her voice mimicked the dry, slightly nasal tone of the elderly announcer. Tony sniggered before responding, his tone lofty and pompous.

“Have I not already performed great acts?”

“Naturally, Mr. Stark,” she quipped back, matching his haughty tone – sounding much more pretentious with her crisp British accent.

“Actually,” Tony said, all pretense dropping to show genuine happiness as he gazed at Peggy. “I’m not the only one here to have performed ‘great acts’,” he said, grinningly wildly now and wiggling his eyebrows at the camera.

“Oh hush,” Peggy said, exasperation not quite covering the amused fondness in her tone.

“Nope, you don’t get out of this,” Tony said, grinning mischievously, reaching for the woman. “Come one, give up the camera – it’s your turn to shine.”

“No – Tony, this is your day –“ Peggy was obviously struggling against Tony’s hands, the image jostling before the woman let loose a shrieking giggle that pierced Steve’s sensitive hearing.

“Anthony Edward Stark!” Peggy warned between a fit of giggles. “I could end you with a spoon! I could –“

The group never heard the rest of Peggy’s creative capabilities, as Tony finally wrestled the camera from her grip and turned it on her. Steve’s heart expanded in his chest as Peggy Carter was shown on the screen, slightly breathless and pink-cheeked, staring daggers in the camera. She was absolutely stunning, and looked every bit the Peggy Carter who Steve remembered, albeit, with a few extra lines and grey hairs.

“For a superspy and founder of a powerful intelligence organization,” Tony’s amused voice sounded from behind the camera. “You sure have several weak spots.”

Peggy just raised a dangerously sculpted brow in Tony’s direction before saying flatly, “Hydra assassins don’t typically tickle their enemies.”

“A shame, really,” Tony quipped, a grin obvious in his voice.

The apparent camaraderie the two shared brought flutters of happiness and relief for Steve, who had feared Tony had gone years without love and friendship. It was so much easier to watch now that this Tony was decidedly more Tony-ish -- all snark and charisma.

“What were we talking about?” Tony asked quickly, receiving narrowed eyes from his companion. “Oh, yes. The wonderful accomplishments of the lovely Margaret Phillips.”

Steve quirked a brow, confused. Peggy, however, blushed slightly.

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “no one calls me Margaret,” she said, cringing slightly at the use of her full name. “And I haven’t changed my last name,” she snipped out, glaring at Tony. “Nor do I plan to.”

Understanding hit Steve in the stomach with a powerful blow. Peggy had married.

“Even if you did,” Tony replied, all snark now gone from his tone. “You’d still be Peggy Carter to me, Aunt Peggy.” The earnestness in his voice melted Peggy’s scowl and she smiled fondly at the camera.

“Thank you, Tony dear,” she said softly. “That means more than you know.”

Nimble fingers entered the frame and captured Peggy’s small ones, and Peggy’s red-lipped smile widened at the display of affection.

The emotions swirled around Steve’s mind, contrasting feelings fighting for dominance. Though he knew it had happened, seeing Peggy basking in post-marital glow hurt. He couldn’t decide if the jealously was directed at Peggy’s new husband, or Peggy herself, for living out the life he had desperately craved.

But there was also pure elation and happiness. Peggy obviously loved the man, and Tony must approve of him, leaving Steve’s two friends both with extra loved ones – always a cause for relief, especially in Tony’s case.

“Well we all know what should come next,” Tony chuckled, ending the heartfelt moment. “When shall I expect the little ones?” His tone was light and teasing, but Steve caught the flush in Peggy’s face and her sudden interest in the leather seats.

“And I fully expect several little ones,” Tony continued, oblivious to Peggy’s discomfort. “You better hop to it, because I’m looking forward to being ‘Uncle Tony’ to at least three – scratch that, five little –“ He trailed off, finally picking up on his companion’s unease.

“Aunt Peggy?” he asked, his voice soft, all teasing gone.

“Tony, dear,” Peggy began, finally looking up at the youth. She sighed. “I was rather hoping to tell you later, it is your graduation, after all.”

“Ohmigosh ohmigosh no way –“

“Don’t get your kickers in a twist,” she chided him, her tone sarcastic, but her eyes warm and bright. “But you will be ‘Uncle Tony’ in a little over 6 months from now.”

The camera suddenly tilted forward and collided with the seat of the car, the view now showing only Peggy’s lap as Tony bounded forward to envelope the woman in a hug.

“Oh Peggy,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically warm and thick with emotion. “You will be the very best mother.”

Steve’s heart clenched at the sound – such affection and warmth coming from Tony completely new to him. It ached to know that the man had little cause to have such warmth before or after this moment, but Steve pushed away the sadness to revel in the happy moment miraculously caught on video.

Steve’s breath actually caught in his throat as Tony’s face entered the frame, his nose almost touching Peggy’s stomach. The man’s sloppy grin and wet eyes made Steve’s stomach flip in multiple summersaults.

“You hear that, kid?” he asked, grinning at Peggy’s stomach. “You better be good to your dear ol’ mom, ‘cus she’ll wipe the floor with you if you misbehave – trust me, I know.”

He sniggered as Peggy clipped him on the back of his head, but pulled out of frame again, now leaving the four Avengers with just a view of his hand clasped over Peggy’s. Steve took the moment to look up and share a smile with Natasha, her face open and warm. Steve breathed in a ragged breath, the respite from the horrors of Tony’s childhood extremely welcome. Hopefully, the worst had passed, Steve mused, watching the happy companions.

“This deserves a celebration,” Tony said suddenly, voice becoming excited, the camera jostling as the youth began to bounce in his seat.

“Come to the house,” he insisted, squeezing Peggy’s hand. “We can sneak passed the party and have our own little celebration with some non-alcoholic beverages.”

“Tony,” Peggy chided, “you know we can’t do that.”

“What? I said non-alcoholic, didn’t I? I was sure I did…”

“You know what your father thinks of my presence in your house,” she said, her tone heavy and resigned – a tone Steve wasn't familiar hearing in her voice.

“What Howard doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Tony quipped, his voice tense. Steve flinched, recognizing the venom in Tony’s voice – the same he hears now when the man speaks about Howard Stark.

“Tony…” Peggy begins, her voice tight.

“It’s my graduation,” Tony interrupted, his voice turning slightly petulant. “And I’d rather celebrate it with you than any of those people Howard has waiting for me.”

“Oh Tony, dear,” Peggy says, all reluctance gone, replaced now with soft fondness.

“Besides,” Tony continued, “he’s just using my graduation as an excuse to host a grand party and invite every important person to listen to him talk.” The bitterness in Tony’s voice brought Steve’s head into his hands again, guilt and shame tearing through him.

Peggy didn’t respond, seeming hesitant in her silence. “Please, Aunt Peggy?” Tony asked, his voice small, a hint of desperation clouding his tone.

“Oh, alright,” she sighed, squeezing Tony’s hand. Tony gave a loud cheer of victory that covered most of Peggy’s dark mumbling, bringing a tiny smile to Steve’s lips.

The camera jostled as Tony picked it up, showing Peggy again, her eyes rather misty and an extremely fond expression on her face.

“We can even see if Obidiah can sneak us some food,” Tony said, his tone taking on a rather giddy quality. “He’d totally do it for me.”

Natasha’s hand stiffened against his shoulder. Steve looked up, a question on his lips before halting, taking in her expression. The normally calm and closed-off face now held utter loathing and contempt – the intensity shocking Steve.

“What –“ he began. The look Natasha shot at him cut him off, however, and Steve turned back to the screen, confused.

His confusion was abated slightly, as Peggy’s face echoed Natasha’s – though much less intensely. Tony was still rambling, but the woman seemed lost in her own thoughts, suspicion and distaste clearly written in her eyes.

“Why the face?” Tony asked suddenly, drawing Peggy from her reticence.

“I’m afraid I hold Obidiah Stane with less regard than you do, Tony,” Peggy sniffed.

“Well, the stick up his ass doesn’t really endear anyone to him,” Tony conceded, earning himself a glare from his companion. “But he’s a good guy.”

Natasha’ hand became even more tense where it gripped Steve’s shoulder, actually evoking discomfort with its strength.

“I don’t like him,” Peggy said, crossing her arms.

“Why?” Tony asked, his voice sounding genuinely surprised.

Peggy just shot him a look. “I just don’t.”

Steve could practically hear Tony toll his eyes. “Women,” the man huffed. Peggy just increased the severity of her glare.

“Really, though, Aunt Peggy,” Tony began, sincerity creeping back into his voice. “He has helped me a lot these past years.” The camera shifted as Tony seemed to squirm in discomfort. “He was there, you know, when…”

Steve felt the anger boiling in his stomach, realizing the events to which Tony was referring. Peggy seemed to catch on as well, her glare lightening.

“Tony,” she began slowly, reaching her hand out.

“Ah ah,” Tony chided in a sing-song tone, cutting off any protests Peggy might have had. “Nope, this is a day of celebration. Unless you’re praising my genius or your virility, no talking.” This earned him a small smile from Peggy and a chuckle from Bruce and Clint.

The camera jostled and the screen turned black for several seconds, Steve’s heart leaping at the idea that there wasn’t anything more to see. The joy was short-lived, however, as a familiar looking door lit up the frame with Tony standing before it.

“Let’s see the great Tony Stark demonstrate his subterfuge skills,” Peggy said behind the camera, her tone light and amused.

Tony raised a brow at her before chucking, “You’re the master spy – you should be teaching me.” Peggy echoed his chuckle before her hand appeared, gesturing for him to move.

Tony’s face lit up in a cheeky grin and Steve groaned – nothing good ever came from that look.

The four Avengers watched with varying displays of amusement as Tony and Peggy proceeded to sneak into Stark Manor -- Peggy holding tight to the camera to record their progress and occasionally shushing Tony, who let loose uncharacteristic giggles every few moments.

The duo had sidled through the foyer, scampered around the large sitting room, and had made it to the corridor near the kitchen when a loud bark of, “Tony!” prompted a loud swear from the youth, and a harsh reprimand of “Language!” from Peggy.

“Oh hello,” Tony grinned, straightening from his stealthy crouch and turning to face the kitchen. Clint sniggered.

The camera panned to show Howard Stark standing in the entryway of the kitchen, a surprised look on his face. A tall, broad-chested man clad in smart dress uniform stood next to Howard, his thick brow arched.

“Tony, come meet Sergeant Major Anderson,” Howard said, recovering from his shock quickly, his wide eyes turning to stare daggers at the camera. Steve’s stomach boiled in anger as he realized the look was directed at Peggy.

“Anderson?” Tony asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Sergeant Major Anderson,” Howard repeated, gaze flickering to his son.

Though Steve couldn’t see Tony’s face, he noted the tension seep into the youth’s posture and his fists clench momentarily before he moved forward to greet the man.

“A pleasure, Major,” Tony said, his tone polite, but underlined with the same aggression Steve recalled hearing when the man addressed a difficult journalist.

“Likewise,” the Major huffed, shaking Tony’s hand with a firm grip.

“Sergeant Major tells me you are acquainted with his sons,” Howard slipped in, breaking the awkward silence after the initial greeting. Steve watched as the hand held behind Tony’s back clenched, one part concerned, another part curious.

“Ah, yes, well…” Tony stammered, seeming uncharacteristically nervous. Curiosity was thrown out the window at that point for Steve, concern taking over completely.

“Here is one now,” the Major called, turning bright eyes to a young man, who sauntered over to stand next to his father. The youth was extremely tall, almost matching his father’s towering height, with an athletic build and matching confidence plastered on his face.

“Tony Stark,” the youth said, his voice sneering. “Great party, thanks for the invite.” Steve glared at the screen. Everything about the boy’s posture screamed ‘bully’ – he’d had enough experience to spot one from a mile away.

“Spectacular,” Tony said, a hint of his usual sarcasm finally creeping back into his voice.

Howard eyed Tony with a calculating gaze, flickering between the two boys as they spoke. Steve wondered if the brilliant man was noticing the same signs he was – and a glimmer of hope bubbled up in Steve’s chest.

Any hope Steve had fled as the Major’s son began telling the story of his first meeting of Tony – in the library their freshman year. Steve quirked a grin at Tony’s, “I was surprised you could even find the place,” but didn’t miss the flash of anger and…fear? Steve’s eyes narrowed to watch the emotions play across Tony’s face.

The youth – Tom Anderson – continued to poke and prod at Tony during the entire conversation between the three men. At each prodding, Steve bristled in anger. The boy was a bully. He was now standing next to Tony, his arm wrapped around his shoulder, his hand gripping Tony’s shoulder in a fierce hold.

“… but you didn’t mind, did you Tony-boy?” the youth asked, giving Tony a little shake, smirking down at him.

Steve was surprised at the low growl that vibrated through his chest. Howard most certainly understood the situation – his eyes had been narrowed on the hand clenching his son’s shoulder – but he hadn’t done anything to call off the young man.

The camera jostled quickly, sending the room into quakes as Peggy set it down next to her and stepped into the frame.

“Sergeant Major,” she said, her tone clipped and edging into dangerous ire. “Agent Peggy Carter of S.H.I.E.L.D.” She strode over, offering her hand to give a firm handshake to the surprised Major.

“Ah, Agent Carter,” the man said, recovering from the shock. “I have heard a great deal about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Peggy released his hand and gave his son a stern, disproving glare, the youth literally shrinking away. “Likewise, Major,” she said, her tone not conveying any warmth to suggest it was indeed a pleasure. “However, there are some matters I wish to discuss with Mr. Stark. If you would be so kind,” she finished, lifting a brow.

“Certainly,” the Major replied, his brow furrowing and his hands moving to clasp behind his back. “Come, Tom,” he said, turning to retreat from the kitchen, dragging his still cowering son along beside him.

“I love this woman,” Clint said, leaning back against the couch and grinning at the television. “I really do,” he insisted, turning to Steve. Steve traded grins with the man – this Peggy was painfully familiar to Steve. The woman who would stand up against the world.

“Disgraceful,” Howard spat, grabbing Steve’s attention. The man was baring his teeth at Tony, anger etched into ever line on his face. “You just stand there and take that from them?” he hissed. Tony took a step back, silent.

“What would you have –“ Peggy began, her shoulders tense and hands clenched at her sides.

“And you need a woman,” Howard spat, turning his glare to Peggy, “to come to your rescue.”

“Don’t you dare –“ Tony said, squaring his shoulders.

“Such weakness!” Howard screamed, cutting off his son and moving to pace before the two. “God, what would Steve say if he were here,” the man hissed, wringing his hands.

Tony’s back stiffened. Steve watched with a hollow ache in his chest as Tony turned to face his pacing father. Steve noted the half step the boy took to put himself in front of Peggy, and felt pride and warmth bubble up in his chest.

“Even before the serum,” Howard continued, oblivious of his son’s growing ire, “Steve wouldn’t stand for bullies! Steve fought against them! Never backed down!”

Steve just watched, utterly helpless against the onslaught of harsh words directed at the Tony, the boy growing increasingly more agitated – hands balled into fists, jaw clenched, shoulders stiff.

“And you,” Howard hissed, finally turning to glare at Tony. “You just stood there, took it! Let a woman come to your defense! You’re pathetic!”

“Howard Stark,” Peggy said, her voice barely above a whisper, but tone harsh and dangerous. “Do you really want to talk about bullies? Do you really want to ask what Steve would do if he were here?”

Steve knew exactly what he’d do. He would have punched Howard Stark in the face years before this.

“He’d be disgusted!” Howard screamed, taking a step toward Tony. “Revolted. Disappointed! You think you’ve made it big with your degree from a fancy school? What good is a slip of paper when you’re to weak and utterly worthless –“

Peggy made to move forward again, her hand clenched into a fist. Tony, however, pulled her back with a soft, “No, Aunt Peggy,” before placing an arm between her and Howard.

“Oh you think you’re a big boy now, Anthony?” Howard sneered, looking at the display. “Think you’re brave?”

Steve’s hands curled into fists as he watched the determined look on Tony’s face harden against pain. No snarky comment, no sarcastic quip -- the boy just stood facing his father. It was so honest, Steve thought, no mask or front covering the hardened look in Tony’s eyes.

“Hmm?” Howard prompted, stepping closer, now face to face with his son.

“Yes,” Tony growled, straightening his shoulders.

Howard struck out, hitting Tony in the face with his fist.

“Tony!” Peggy shouted. Tony’s head turned with the force of the blow, but he held his arm firm, pressing Peggy back.

“You better stop pretending to be a hero, Anthony Stark,” Howard snarled. “I’ve seen heroes, Anthony. And you’re not even close.”

Steve gasped, all the air suddenly sucked out from his lungs. The words rang in his head, Howard’s voice morphing into his own, ‘you better stop pretending to be a hero’ – echoing over and over as he watched Tony’s face crumple in defeat.

“Howard, you daft arsehole!” Steve looked up to the screen, shock breaking through the crippling guilt to watch Peggy Carter shout obscenities at Howard Stark. “You bloody piss-artist! You’re a prat of a man, and an absolutely shit father! If Steve were here, he’d trounce you!”

Tony seemed equally as shocked, his brows disappearing into his wily dark curls as he watched Peggy throw curses at his father. Howard mirrored his son’s surprise, but came out of his stupor to take a menacing step toward her, his arm rising in threat.

Steve jumped from the couch as he watched Howard’s arm come forward, anger pooling in his stomach.

Tony grabbed his father’s arm and pulled him around, shoving his arm behind his back and pushing it up between his shoulder blades, earning a yelp from Howard.

“Don’t you dare lay a single finger on her!” Tony shouted, his eyes dark and his face snarling in anger. “Do what you want to me, but never touch Peggy Carter.”

Steve gaped at the screen as Tony held his father tight for a moment, the boy seeming to struggle with himself for a moment before pushing Howard away. The man stumbled forward into the wall before turning to gape at his son, his hand coming up to rub at his shoulder.

There was silence in the kitchen and in the Avenger’s tower as everyone watched anxiously.

Howard’s face changed from surprise to anger in a flash, and he stepped forward again toward Tony.

“Go, Peggy,” Tony said quietly, not taking his eyes off his father.

“Tony, no I –“

“Aunt Peggy,” Tony whispered, closing his eyes for a moment, pain flashing across his features. “Please.” He opened his eyes to glance back at her as Howard stopped to snarl in his face.

“You have another to look after,” he continued before she could protest again, eyes glancing down to linger on her stomach. Steve’s heart clenched as Peggy deliberated, obviously aching to stay and help, but concerned and protective as only a pregnant woman could understand.

“Oh, Peggy,” Steve sighed, bringing his head into his hands. “I should have been there with you,” he choked out, trying to suppress a sob. He felt a small hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to the couch. He was tilted to the side and felt his head pulled against a slight shoulder, a hand coming up to his head.

“I love you, baby boy,” Peggy’s voice whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion, pulling Steve’s head up. The woman reached out to touch Tony between the shoulders -- Tony’s eyes closing for a brief moment – and then turned toward the camera and disappeared from frame.

“Listen here –“

“No,” Tony hissed, cutting off his father. “You listen.” The vehement tone surprised Howard again, his eyes widening a fraction.

“You will stay away from Peggy Carter and Robert Phillips. This includes any tampering with their financials, resources, networks – everything.” Tony held his back straight and addressed his father with stern focus and dark anger in his eyes.

Steve felt his chest warm with pride. This was a side of Tony he’d only seen a handful of times – when he was protecting those he loves. Despite all the hurt and damage, Steve mused, watching his friend, Tony had turned out strong, even as a young man.

“And I’ll know if you try anything,” Tony continued, his voice dropping lower.

Howard recovered quickly, rallying to stand closer to Tony and glare at him. “This is a new development,” the man hissed, smirking at Tony. “What are you trying to do, Anthony? You think sticking your neck out for Steve’s Peggy will make you brave? Will make Steve proud?”

Steve felt sick. All those years growing up, Tony was compared to him. No, Steve corrected himself, Tony was compared to Captain America. What a burden to carry – Captain America’s weight was difficult enough to carry for Steve, let alone any other man. And Tony was just a child.

“I don’t give a damn what Captain-fucking-America thinks of me,” Tony spat.

Hot tears threatened to spill from Steve’s eyes, and the super soldier deftly wiped them away, gazing desperately at the screen.

Howard grabbed Tony’s shirt, bringing his face inches from his son’s and practically growling out, “Don’t you dare besmirch Steve’s name! If Steve were here he’d –“

“HE ISN’T HERE!” Tony screamed, pushing Howard away. Steve’s throat clenched at the truth, the admission that hammered guilt into every corner of his heart.

“HE’S LYING DEAD IN SOME ICEBERG AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO BRING HIM BACK.” Tony’s eyes looked manic now, his hands coming up to gesticulate frantically.

Steve winced as he recognized some of Tony’s hysterical gestures as Howard’s.

“I’ll find him!” Howard shouted, coming toe to toe with Tony again. “I’ll find Steve! You and Peggy can give up on him, but I won’t!”

“You’re wasting you time, old man,” Tony spat. “Captain’s long gone – he’s never coming back to us.”

Though Tony’s face was screwed up in malice, his words aiming to bruise his father, Steve could see the broken child hidden in the depths of his brown eyes. Steve’s mind spun at Tony’s words – ‘he’s never coming back to us’. To us.

Tony had been waiting for him. Of course he was, Steve realized, feeling stupid. Steve recalled how the young boy had clung to his Captain America shirt with a look of utter reverence. A small boy promising to help his neglectful father find his idol.

Steve had been wallowing in all the people he’d left behind – Bucky, Peggy, Howard, the commandos – but he never realized he had finally come back to someone. And he ruined it.

The soldier buried his head in his hands, tears spilling down his cheeks and a sob wracking his chest. Natasha’s hand tightened on his shoulder, but it wasn’t enough.

“You just wait –“

“No,” Tony cut him off, “Even if you could find him – which you can’t – I don’t ever want to see that ridiculous, spangle-clad monstrosity that you call –“

Steve’s harsh sob hitched in his throat as Howard struck Tony for a second time. Tears now spilled in earnest down his cheeks and beside him, Bruce had curled in on himself, muffled sobs echoing in the silence proceeding the hit.

“Steve Rogers is ten times the better man than you’ll ever be,” Howard said, his voice velvety smooth and dangerously dark.

This broke Steve. Sagging forward, he covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

“What’s going on here?” a man’s voice asked, pulling Steve’s eyes to the screen, attempting to make out the face through the blurring of tears. A tall, balding man with a thick, dark beard entered the kitchen, concern heavy on his brow.

“Tony – what?” He broke off, staring between the two Starks. Steve’s eyes moved to Tony, taking in his defensive position – shoulders forward and body completely withdrawing. The man’s eyes were on Tony’s face, where Steve could just make out a single tear falling across his cheek.

“Obie – I –“

“God, Anthony,” Howard groaned, stepping back and pacing again. “You’re nineteen fucking years old. What have I told you about crying?” he hissed.

“Now, Howard,” the man Tony had called ‘Obie’ said, stepping forward to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Why don’t we just calm down, then we can –“

“Get out.”

“That’s fine,” Obie said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’ll go, I’ll just take Tony here to –“

“No,” Howard interrupted, turning his eyes on Tony. “You. Get out. I don’t want to look at you.”

“Howard, before you make any –“

“GET. OUT. OF. MY. HOUSE,” Howard roared, punctuating each word with a menacing step in his son’s direction. “Take your disrespectful, worthless ass out of my house. Don’t think about coming back.”

Tony, with what appeared to be a herculean effort, straightened his shoulders, tensed his jaw, and attempted to smirk at his father. Steve thought it came off more as a grimace.

“It would be my pleasure,” Tony quipped. He looked up at Obie and quirked him a small grin. “Don’t wait up – it appears I won’t be back here anytime soon.”

Chuckling darkly, Tony strode from the frame.

Steve watched in agony as Howard threw open a tall cabinet door, poured himself a large class of brandy, and guzzled it down, his face contorting as the liquid burned down his throat. “Good riddance,” he huffed, pouring himself another, more liberal amount.

“We have guests, Stane,” he said, turning to the man before striding out through the kitchen and out through a door. The man looked to the door Howard had retreated through, then turned to gaze at the hall where Tony disappeared, looking conflicted.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and followed Howard.

The Avengers stared at the Stark’s empty kitchen for a moment longer before the screen flickered to black.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

The silence in the room was broken only by the soft sobs of Bruce and Steve. Clint, his face pale and eyes unfocused, reached over to the doctor and rubbed soft circles into his back.

Steve had lowered his head to his knees, hoping the position helped with the nausea threatening to empty his stomach – though at this point, maybe that’d help with the overwhelming guilt that had taken residence there.

Natasha replaced her hand on Steve’s shoulder, offering a small gesture of compassion – the most she was able to give at the moment, as her own emotions were swirling dangerously.

The four Avengers held their positions, two offering what comfort they could, and two trying to battle off debilitating guilt or all-encompassing rage and sorrow.

“Obadiah Stane?” Clint finally asked, as Bruce’s breathing slowed, his sobs turning into deep, shuddering breaths. “Stark’s old business partner who died in the plane crash a couple years ago?”

“That’s the official story according to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Natasha replied, her hand clenching slightly against Steve’s shoulder. Steve tried to anchor his wayward, depressed thoughts to the gesture, pulling his mind back to the present.

“Something tells me that’s not the truth,” he mumbled against his hands. He was rewarded by a tightening of the grip on his shoulder.

“You are correct,” Natasha replied, her tone bitter.

Steve braced himself, his mind screaming at him to leave it be – he couldn’t handle anything more.

“He was a monster.”

Steve uncovered his hands to glance at Bruce, whose voice was hoarse. The doctor uncurled himself from the ball he’d made in the corner of the couch, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

Bruce trained his tormented gaze on Steve. “He betrayed Tony, then tried to kill him.”

“In the most intimate way possible,” Natasha added, her voice soft.

Clint caught her eye, sending her a knowing look, trying to offer support with just a glance. He knew the nightmares that plagued her, the fear of a slow death by one she loved. Betrayal was a terror Clint understood completely.

“He stole the reactor right from Tony’s chest,” Bruce said, responding to the look of confusion on Steve’s face. “Then left him to die.”

Steve’s mind just couldn’t process any more emotion. The pain was muffled now, his thoughts moving slowly to comprehend. ‘He was there, you know, when…’ That’s what Tony had said. The boy had admitted to feeling indebted, grateful even, for the man’s presence. Tony Stark had shown gratitude.

God, the boy must have worshiped the man, Steve thought. Nothing less would warrant that kind of admission from the man. And Stane had then betrayed him. After almost 30 years. Steve groaned.

“He covers it when he sleeps,” he croaked out, his eyes blurring from the tears. “I’ve seen him do it. He was sleeping in the lab…”

Steve recalled walking into Tony’s workshop after a 40 hour binge, and seeing the genius slumped over his work table, screwdriver still in his hand. Steve had removed the potential weapon from the billionaire’s grasp before placing his own hand softly on Tony’s shoulder, calling out his name.

He had received several low grumbles of, “g’way, ‘m busy” before he pulled the slumbering man up. That’s when he’d noticed the man’s left hand pressed against his chest, one oily hand covering the blue light that normally filtered through his threadbare shirt.

“Come on, Tony,” Steve said, smirking down at the frowning face of his friend, who still mumbled incoherently about not being tired. “You’ll be more comfortable in your own bed.”

Steve moved to hoist the man up, securing his hold under each arm, and attempted to bring the man’s left arm around his shoulders. The hand just clenched more tightly around the arc reactor in his chest.

Steve sighed, but moved to the other side and hoisted the right arm around his own neck, pulling the semi-conscious man toward the doors. Steve sighed at Tony’s slurred, “You wanna take me to bed, solider?” before hoisting the man higher up and heading to the elevator.

Suddenly the man’s unconscious fear made perfect sense. The horror of the image he created of Obadiah Stane jerking the arc reactor from Tony’s chest sent his heart rate spiking. But a tiny part of his conscious warmed knowing that Tony hadn’t pushed Steve away in his slumber – a reasonable action for someone so traumatized.

Steve pushed away the warmth for further contemplation later, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

“So I’m guessing Stane didn’t really die in a plane crash after taking the arc reactor?” Clint asked, his sarcastic tone only barely covering the smoldering hate in his voice.

“Tony killed him,” Natasha said, her tone flat and resigned.

“Fuck,” Clint hissed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“My sentiments exactly.”

The four Avengers whipped their heads around to gape at Pepper Pots. Dangerously polished high heels were crossed as she leaned against the entry way to the lounge, her glare and raised brow not-so-subtly demanding explanation.

“Ms. Potts,” Steve croaked, looking up and trying to wipe the evidence of tears from his face. “We were just –“

“So I heard,” she said, voice sharp, eyes swiveling to glare at Steve. “I’m not sure Tony would appreciate his private life spoken of, Agent Romanov.” That steely gaze landed on Natasha, and to Steve’s surprise, the assassin shrunk back slightly from the glare.

“At this point,” Clint said, coming to Natasha’s defense, “I doubt the story of Obadiah Stane would be too personal of a story compared to what Stark just made us watch.”

Pepper’s glare eased as confusion and concern grew on her face. “I don’t –“

“Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner, and Agents Barton and Romanov just finished watching Sir’s personal video files,” Jarvis explained smoothly, his computerized voice expressing its displeasure.

Pepper’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “His personal video files?” she gaped. “No one, ever, has seen those.”

“Indeed,” Jarvis replied dryly.

“And Tony knows you all just watched them?” she asked, her brow rising with apparent skepticism.

“It was ordered by Sir.”

Pepper’s face fell in confusion. “I haven’t even seen those…” she whispered, more to herself than the room. Steve’s stomach fell, watching the hurt flash across her face.

“I forced him to show us,” he said quickly, trying to rid someone of hurt. This apparently only added to Pepper’s confusion.

“No one can force Tony to do anything,” she scoffed. “Multiple kidnappers can attest to that.”

Steve flinched at the reminder of yet another painful event in Tony Stark’s life.

“Tony has videos of Peggy Carter,” Natasha said, her tone flat. “Steve wanted access.”

Steve winced again. He was utterly responsible. For everything. He hung his head, the guilt overwhelming him again.

“Oh.” The pregnant silence was deafening.

“And he just gave you access?” she pressed. Steve groaned, burying his head in his knees again.

“He and Steve…traded words,” Bruce explained, his voice tense.

“You bullied him into showing you his private life?” Pepper quipped, her voice harsh. Steve’s breath caught in his chest, a soft sob huffing out between his fingers.

“I’m the worst human being on the planet,” he mumbled, another sob wracking his large frame. Natasha’s hand returned to his shoulders.

Pepper sighed. Steve suddenly felt another presence on the couch next to him. Looking up from blurry, tear filled eyes, he looked up at Pepper.

“You saw Howard?” she asked, pity seeping through the anger on the planes of her face. Steve nodded, more tears falling.

“I was so wrong,” he gasped out. “I made horrible assumptions and threw hateful words at him.” He sniffed, trying to will the tears to stop. “I’ve ruined everything, and I know I’ve hurt him. He’ll never forgive me.” He hiccupped softly, more tears falling. “And he shouldn’t,” he added, self-hate threatening to tear apart his insides.

Pepper sighed again, but placed a soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. The comfort only served to sink Steve further into self-loathing.

“What did you see?” she asked softly. After a long moment, Natasha summarized each video, and Steve watched Pepper’s face grow pale. At the end, Pepper’s hands came up to wipe away tears.

“I’ve known Tony’s opinions of his father, and the special place in his heart for Peggy, but nothing so specific as what you all saw.” She chuckled darkly. “He refused to show me any videos that I found when clearing out his father’s study. “I’m surprised he even kept them.”

Silence fell again, each person digesting the images they had just seen.

“The last one was Tony’s graduation from MIT?” Pepper asked suddenly, a frown on her face.

“Yes, Ms. Potts,” Jarvis replied, after it was apparent no one else could answer.

“Oh god,” Pepper breathed, eyes misting over in tears again. “Oh that’s horrible.” She buried her face in her hands, breathing shallow.

“What?” Clint asked, anxiety in his tone.

“I believe,” Jarvis began, the disembodied voice heavy and slow, as if experiencing grief. “Ms. Potts has realized the date, and has connected it to what happened exactly six days after the final video.”

Steve felt Natasha stiffen next to him, and he looked up to watch her face – a mixture of horror and grief.

“What happened six days after the video?” Clint asked, slowly, as if dreading the answer.

Jarvis didn’t respond for several seconds, in an extremely human-like expression of hesitance – which both surprised Steve, but also gave him strange flutters of pride, for only Tony Stark could build a computer that could feel.

“Six days after Sir’s graduation from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Mr. and Mrs. Stark were killed in a car accident,” Jarvis announced finally, his computerized voice quiet.

The blow should have been expected for Steve, who had known that Howard had died in Tony’s childhood. He was momentarily shocked that the news of his friend’s death no longer felt like a blow – a realization that surprised Steve, who had always remembered his friend’s death with melancholy. Now, however, he just felt relief.

After he identified the emotion, he immediately felt horrible – Howard Stark had been a friend, a confidante. But Steve couldn’t bring himself to mourn over the man. Now, he was just glad that Tony didn’t have to suffer through more abuse at the hand of his father.

“Did Tony get to see Howard again?” Bruce asked, his voice incredibly small. “Before he died?”

“He did not,” Jarvis replied, his voice soft.

Steve realized Natasha’s horror. The last thing Howard Stark had ever told his son was that he was nothing compared to Captain America.

The realization hit Steve with a physical force, bringing him to hunch over his knees, sobbing into his hands.

Worse than the suffocating pain and sorrow was the guilt that tore at his chest and forced all air from his lungs. Steve had thrown Howard’s haunting last words at Tony’s face in the first few minutes of being acquainted with Tony Stark. How could Tony even look at Steve after that? Steve would have been overwhelmed with confusion if the guilt weren’t swallowing him whole.

His sobs continued, the pain consuming his ability to form coherent thought. His whole world revolved around the suffocating pain in his chest, the wracking sobs that stole his breath, and the small hand that squeezed his shoulder.

After minutes that could have been hours, Steve finally felt his tears run dry and his lungs begin accepting air, which he gasped for, head spinning with the lack of oxygen. The delicate but deadly hand gave him a tight squeeze, willing him to gain control again, and Steve latched onto the feeling, trying to ground himself again.

“Peggy?” he managed, bringing his watery gaze to Pepper. Her frown lightened as she smiled softly.

“Peggy attended the funeral with Tony and Rhodey,” she said, reaching out to hold Steve’s hand.

“Rhodey?” Clint asked, quirking a brow. “As in, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes?”

“James Rhodes, or Rhodey – as his friends call him – went to MIT with Tony,” Pepper explained. “They’ve been friends since Tony’s second year.”

That explained a lot for Steve. He had met the Lieutenant a couple of times, and was surprised at the easy interaction between the military man and Tony Stark. As a military man himself, it had been a surprise to see someone cut from the same cloth able to handle the eccentricities of Tony Stark so well.

“But between the birth of Peggy’s son, Grant, and Tony’s new role in Stark Industries, the two rarely saw each other,” Pepper continued.

“Grant?” Steve asked, surprised. Surely Peggy had known his middle name. Was it a coincidence? Pepper gave him a small grin.

“She never forgot you, Steve,” she said, squeezing his hand.

That didn’t make Steve feel better.

“Obadiah had Tony flying around the world to learn about Stark Industries before he officially took control at age 21,” Pepper continued. “Though Tony flew back and was present for the birth of both Peggy’s children.” She smiled, her eyes far away.

“Tony loved those kids,” she said. Steve noticed the slight frown and wistful look in her eye, and felt like he was missing something important. “Sarah was born two years after Grant. That was around the same time I began working for him, and also the first time I met Peggy.”

Pepper smiled fondly, her eyes losing their longing as she grinned up at Steve. “The first thing she said to me was that I was grossly underpaid and entirely too attractive for my own good.” Pepper chuckled.

“She promised to change that, and warned me against wandering hands,” Pepper continued, smirking. “Thirty minutes later, my salary doubled and Tony sat down and signed anti-harassment contracts.”

Clint doubled over laughing. “God, I love that woman,” he said, between sniggers.

“Tony took over the company the same year that Sarah was born, but he made sure to visit Peggy when he could. He took the kids out to ballgames, Disneyland –“

“Tony Stark went to Disneyland?” Clint asked, his brows shooting up in disbelief.

“They let Tony Stark in Disneyland?” Natasha asked, dryly.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “He bought the park for the day just for the three of them.”

Steve chuckled, the weight in his chest lifting as he pictured Tony carting around two kids – because with his energy, not even children could outpace the man.

The four Avengers shared grins and chuckles, each taking escape from the horrors for a few moments, picturing Tony Stark flitting about the ‘Most Magical Place on Earth’. But the moment could not last.

“It was a couple years later that Peggy was diagnosed,” Pepper said, her voice small.

Steve knew the history, but to hear of it in the context of Tony’s life, and knowing what it meant for her family, Steve’s heart plummeted.

“The Alzheimer’s progressed quickly,” Pepper continued, looking down at her hands. “Tony and Robert did what they could to take care of Peggy for as long as they could,” she said, peeking up at Steve, seeming hesitant.

“But in the end, Robert couldn’t stay home, and Tony was needed at Stark Industries. Peggy was placed in a care facility that Tony founded specifically for dementia patients.”

Steve had read the file on Peggy, knew where she was staying. He just didn’t have it in him to go visit her. What if she didn’t remember him? Or worse, what if she did, but she was angry with him? He didn’t think he could face that.

“I remember the day Tony came back from moving her in,” Pepper said, eyes far away and glossing over as tears welled. “He was distraught. He drew up plans for an entire branch of Stark Industries R&D for analyzing and curing Alzheimer’s, and he flew around the world personally recruiting specialists.”

Steve almost smiled. It was so Tony. Bringing together the best and the brightest, using all that money could afford to tackle a problem in the most efficient way possible.

“It was one of the only times Tony and Stane ever truly fought,” Pepper said, her voice turning bitter and cold. “Stane didn’t want to take resources away from weapons developments,” she explained, catching Bruce’s confused glance. “But Tony was…adamant,” she finished, smirking.

Steve snorted. ‘Adamant’ was a rather calm word for Tony’s impressive stubbornness, and the subsequent lengths he’d go to win the argument.

“Today, Stark Industries is a huge manufacturer of Alzheimer’s drugs, and it is at the forefront of medical research for dementia and other related brain diseases,” Pepper announced, pride steeling her voice.

“However,” she paused, her shoulders slumping forward in defeat. “There is no cure for Peggy’s disease.” The room was silent for a moment, each person digesting this.

“What happened to her kids?” Clint asked, his voice small. Pepper looked up and have him a small smile.

“Robert and Sarah live in Boston,” she said, “very close to Peggy. I believe Sarah is in her second year of high school,” Pepper paused, thinking for a moment. “Robert works as head of security at a SI lab – a step down from his original position working security for the company’s US headquarters.”

Steve was surprised to hear that the man worked for Tony’s company. And in security?

“Robert was a soldier,” Pepper said quietly, looking at Steve. “Peggy met him on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. and he saved her life.” Steve’s throat constricted, but he pushed down the sadness – Peggy had found a man to care for her -- that was all Steve could ask for.

“When he and Peggy got married, Tony gave him a job at headquarters in the hopes that it would keep Peggy close,” she continued, grinning again. “But married life and motherhood couldn’t stop Peggy Carter from continuing her work to build S.H.I.E.L.D and expand their capabilities.”

Steve almost chuckled. It was very Peggy – a single-minded desire to keep pushing, keep striving for the best. To prove wrong all those who doubted her.

“And the oldest?” Clint asked.

Pepper grinned, a fond smile warming her face. “Grant is a freshman at MIT on full scholarship. Perhaps unsurprising, but his uncle managed to evoke a strong preference for taking things apart and putting them back together in the most aggravating way possible.”

Bruce and Clint chuckled, imagining Tony with a kid down in his workshop, tinkering with things to make them talk or, more likely, throw things at random passersby.

“Does he see them often?” Steve asked, his throat tight.

“He used to,” Pepper said, eyes falling to her intertwined fingers again. “After…after Afghanistan and…Stane…he couldn’t – well, I mean, Tony…” She took a deep breath. “Though he’d never admit it,” she continued, more strongly now, “losing Stane the way he did forever changed Tony. He focused solely on changing the company and himself.” She paused and looked to Steve, gazing at him with a calculating stare.

“I think Tony Stark believes he carries the blood of many on his hands,” she announced, her voice hard. “I think he’s denied himself the happiness of caring for those he cherishes because he thinks himself unworthy of their love.”

Steve’s mind reeled. Before today – before even thirty minutes ago – the idea that Tony Stark would deny himself anything, wouldn’t seem possible. But now?

“I understand.”

Steve whipped his head up to stare at Natasha, who had finally spoken. She had a deep frown on her face as she stared down at her hands.

Pepper just nodded and moved to place a hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

“And Peggy?” Bruce asked after a moment, turning back to Pepper. “Did any of the drugs help with her condition?”

Pepper sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose lightly and frowning. Steve’s heart clenched.

“They were able to slow down her rapid mental decline,” she said, still hiding part of her face. “But the degeneration was swift.” She stopped for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Steve watched her posture with a sinking feeling in his gut.

“About four years ago, Tony and I went to see Peggy in Boston,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She had stopped recognizing me several years before that,” she said. “But that day…” she hesitated, removing her hand and blinking away tears.

“That day, she called him Howard.”

Steve felt tears prickling the corner of his eyes, and he looked up to trying to prevent them from falling.

“She must have been reliving the time when Howard and Maria had first been married, because she knew to ask him about her. But,” she sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “But she didn’t know who Anthony Stark was.”

Steve took a deep, shuddering breath.

“He kept repeating his name over and over,” Pepper gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks. “He begged her to remember. He told her stories of them and things about himself – his birthday, his favorite color, his favorite story,” she had to stop, her breath hitching in her chest.

“She was so confused,” she continued. “Kept asking ‘Howard’ why he was crying,” her voice broke at the last word. Steve felt his own tears fall down his face, imagining the broken look in Tony’s eyes.

Pepper took a shuddering breath. “He couldn’t go back,” she said, wiping away the tears. “After he came back from Afghanistan, though, he said he had to see her.” Pepper hiccupped slightly, wiping away more tears. “He never told me what happened, but he came back looking haunted, and locked himself in his workshop for a week.”

Steve winced, the possibilities spinning in his mind, each more painful than the last. He looked over to Pepper, but the woman seemed unable to continue. She sank down on the loveseat and stared silently in her hands.

Each person held the silence, unsure of what to say. After long minutes, Natasha moved to sit next to Steve, and Clint sat with his back against Bruce’s legs, each offering comfort to the others.

“I need to see Tony,” Steve said, stomach immediately churning with nerves. He had to apologize, had to beg for forgiveness.

“No,” Natasha said, head snapping up. “Leave him be, Steve.”

“Rhodey.”

Steve looked to Pepper, his brow rising.

“Jarvis.”

“Right away, Ms. Potts.”

The screen in front of them lit up with ‘Calling: Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes’. The man picked up after two rings, his face coming up on the screen.

“Pepper?” he asked, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come to New York, Rhodey,” Pepper said, straightening her back and schooling her features. The man’s eyes flickered in concern, his frown deepening for a moment before his face hardened with resolve.

“Suit or bourbon?” he asked in a no-nonsense tone.

“He’s going to need all the whiskey you can carry.”

Rhodes frowned again. “Afghanistan?” he asked, his voice lowering.

“Earlier.”

Rhodes’ eyes widened. “Howard?” he asked, now barely a whisper. Pepper just nodded.

The Lieutenant’s face hardened again. “I’ll be there in an hour,” he promised.

“Thanks Rhodey,” Pepper said, relief evident in her voice. Rhodes’ face softened a bit, and he gave the woman a soft smile.

“Thank you for calling Pepper,” he said. “I know it’s no longer your responsibility, and I really appreciate you continuing to look after him like this.”

Steve quirked a brow at the woman, confused with Rhodes’ statement. Why wasn’t Tony her responsibility?

“I’ll always love him,” she said quietly.

“I know that, Pep” he said gently, giving her another small smile. “And Tony does too.” Pepper sighed, a deep and heavy sound that spoke of years of exhaustion.

“Thanks, James.”

“See you soon, Pepper.”

The screen faded to black once again and Pepper found herself the center of four Avenger’s attentions.

“When did it happen?” Natasha asked. Steve just blinked at her in confusion.

“Two weeks ago,” Pepper responded.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said. This replaced Steve’s concern with fear. Natasha apologizing?

“What happened?” Bruce asked.

Pepper sighed again. Since when did she look so completely exhausted, Steve wondered.

“Tony and I broke up.”

Steve felt his heart drop. Then his mind caught up to him.

“Two weeks ago?” he asked. Pepper nodded. How didn’t he know? Why didn’t Tony tell them?

“Why?” Bruce asked, frowning at her. Pepper just squared her shoulders.

“We work better as friends,” she said evenly, a hint of steel in her voice, as if daring them to contradict her. “It’s easier for both of us this way,” she added, her shoulders shrugging forward slightly.

“Neither of us could give each other what we wanted,” she said, her voice broken, as if admitting to something. “And trying to give each other what the other wanted was killing both of us. It was time.”

Steve digested this. From the outside, Tony and Pepper were perfect – the redhead had the strength and confidence to force the manic inventor to take care of himself, and the billionaire’s energy, devotion, and love for the woman broke through all masks he created for himself.

But Steve had seen the hints Pepper had dropped. Had heard the arguments about Tony’s continued role as Iron Man and Avenger. He had seen the look in Pepper’s eyes when she watched children play in the park. Pepper wanted a family – not one that haphazardly formed between six misfits, brought together by their loneliness and overwhelming loss.

Pepper didn’t want a life where a 90 year old super solider made omelets every Sunday; where a demi-god literally dropped from the sky carrying three dozen donuts; where a master assassin left his razor sharp arrowheads on the couch for someone to sit on; or where explosions could be heard as two scientists experimented at god-forsaken hours in the morning.

Steve knew their life wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t imagine it any differently. Apparently, Pepper could.

“Rhodey will be here soon,” Pepper said, interrupting Steve’s musings. She stood, straightening her skirt and wiping her face dry. “Leave Tony to him – Rhodey will take care of him.” She aimed a measured stare at Steve, the steel in her eyes giving him a clear warning of ‘stay away’.

With a final breath, Pepper stood and the clap of her heels on the tile faded as she walked out of the hall and into the elevator.

One by one, the Avengers left the room, each disappearing to the privacy of their own thoughts as images of a small child with wild black hair and an infectious grin flickered in their minds.

Steve had been able to move himself from the couch to a chair in the kitchen – his legs only allowing him to move just that much closer to his bedroom – when James Rhodes stepped off the elevator.

“Jarvis,” the man asked, his voice clipped and serious.

“In his workshop, Lieutenant,” the AI responded swiftly, something akin to relief in its computerized voice.

“How long has it been?” Rhodes asked, a frown on his face.

“One hour and forty-two minutes.”

Rhodes nodded and moved swiftly to the kitchen, eyes focused on the bar in the corner. Steve noted the man moved with surety and confidence, the concern only apparent in the depths of his dark eyes. This man knew what he was doing.

“Status report, go,” he commanded, setting down a large black bag onto the counter.

“Sir’s last meal was yesterday morning at 2:42am – two slices of cold pepperoni pizza. Hours since last full night of sleep: 28, hours since last nap: 13,” the AI rattled off in short, concise tones. “Physical form is steady – very minimal amount of blood loss and current heart rate steady, O2 sats are acceptable.”

Blood loss? Steve thought, concern bubbling up through the sluggish drifting of his thoughts. Why blood loss?

“Sir tends to be rather overzealous in his methods of creation under emotional duress, Captain,” Jarvis explained dryly. Steve jumped at the address, not realizing he’d voiced his question aloud.

The address also brought Rhodes’ attention on him, and Steve resisted shrinking back as the dark eyes assessed him.

“BAC? Rhodes asked, not breaking eye contact with the soldier.

“Sir’s blood alcohol content is currently 0.12,” the AI responded. “Though with the lack of food in his system, I believe he will succumb to the alcohol approximately three hours sooner than his usual, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks, J,” Rhodes’ said softly, finally turning away from his staring contest with Steve. The Lieutenant moved to the bar and extracted two glasses and one bottle of brandy before moving back to his bag. He dropped the bottle in, a loud clink telling Steve that it was joining several more bottles.

Just as Rhodes turned and moved back to the elevator, Steve called out, “Are you sure more drinking is the best plan, Lieutenant?”

Rhodes halted. “Yes,” he said, turning his head to gaze at Steve.

“Wouldn’t something else be healthier?”

“Yes,” Rhodes said again. “But would something else work? No.” He gave the Captain a stern glare before striding to the elevator and disappearing.

The next morning, Steve dragged himself from his bed and into the shower, scowling at the puffiness of his eyes – swollen from the hours of tears preceding eventual terror-ridden sleep.

Moving through the kitchen, he allowed the familiar routine of making breakfast lull his mind into a daze. Such was his mildly comatose state, that he didn’t notice the other Avenger’s presence until Bruce touched his shoulder in concern.

Steve jumped and looked to the man, surprised at his presence and the depth of agony hidden in the dark circles under his eyes. “Bruce,” Steve breathed, clapping his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Bruce chuckled. “I was going to ask you the same,” he said, giving the soldier a weak grin.

The longer Steve looked at the man, the worse he appeared. Red and swollen eyes spoke to a similar evening of melancholy for the doctor, but the set of his shoulders and deep frown on his face couldn’t hold more sorrow than the dark depths of his eyes. Steve’s throat caught.

“It’s going to be okay, Bruce,” he said softly, giving the slighter man a soft squeeze. The doctor just nodded, turning his back and collapsing into a chair at the table.

The four sat in silence, Natasha eventually coming to assist Steve with the food, and Clint delivering hot tea to the doctor. Silently, the four friends ate breakfast.

Just before noon, Rhodes came up from the elevator. Steve jumped to his feet, wanting to do something to help, but the Lieutenant just raised a hand to halt any questions or responses.

“Coffee,” he rasped, scowling slightly. The machine sputtered to life at the remark, a perfect cup poured just as the man reached the counter. Leaning over the cup, Rhodes almost stuck his nose into the liquid in his haste to cherish its aroma.

The man looked like crap. Dark circles pressed into his skin under haunted black eyes, and once crisply pressed button-down was now wrinkled and dotted with black stains.

Taking a sip, the man let out a small moan, hands coming up to wrap around the large mug. Steve grinned slightly, recognizing the gesture as one he saw almost every morning when Tony emerged from his workshop.

“How is he?” Bruce asked when Rhodes finished the cup. The man let loose a content sigh as he lowered the cup onto the marble counter, then looked to the doctor.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied, his voice tired. “Give him space for a few days,” he said, moving to put the cup in the sink. “He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

“But –“

“No, Rogers,” Rhodes growled, not turning from the sink. “You will wait for him to come to you. You will not push him any more than you have.” Steve was taken aback by the man’s venom, though, he realized, he deserved it. He sank down into a chair to cover his face in his hands.

He was the absolute worst, horrible, despicable person on the planet, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony decided never to talk to him again. Heck, he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony asked him to leave. He’d go, too, no questions asked. He’d been living in the genius’ home, taking advantage of the man’s hospitality, all while holding such horribly wrong assumptions and opinions of the man. He was the lowest, most awful –

“He will come to you.”

Steve was pulled from his self-deprecating thoughts by Rhodes’ voice, now suddenly much closer than before. Steve picked up his head to peer up at the Lieutenant now standing just in front of him.

“Give him time, Captain, and he will come around. Tony can hold a grudge, don’t get me wrong,” he chuckled darkly, the smile not finding its way to his eyes. “But not against you. Not even if you deserved it.”

Steve’s heart clenched, guilt and grief gripping him, and he lowered his head to his hands again, groaning softly as the emotions gave him physical pain in his chest.

“You couldn’t have known,” Rhodes said, repeating Natasha’s words from earlier. The sentiment coming from Tony’s best friend held greater weight than the assassin’s, but still didn’t convince the soldier. “But now that you do,” he continued, placing a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t screw it up.”

Steve looked up, surprised. “What?” he asked, his brain moving too slowly to comprehend anymore.

Rhodes cracked a small smile. “You know more about Anthony Stark than anyone else in the world,” he said, glancing to the others at the table, including them in his count. “Whether you realize it or not, Tony has trusted you with this information. Trusted you all not to hurt him.”

Steve felt his brain move more quickly, breaking from its pain-induced haze.

“Despite the circumstances, he allowed you to see into the most private aspect of his life – his highest and lowest moments of his childhood. The experiences that helped shape who he is. Take this information to heart, and for the love of all that is holy and good, don’t hurt him.”

The last bit held a sort of desperation in the Lieutenant’s smooth tones, and Steve met his eyes, noting the earnest plea in his face.

“We promise.”

Steve broke eye contact with the Lieutenant to gaze at Natasha. The woman held a firm, determined blaze of fire in her eye as she gazed at Rhodes. Clint nodded. Bruce said a soft, “Promise.” Steve couldn’t bring himself to speak, so instead he reached up to gasp the Lieutenant’s forearm tightly.

Rhodes smiled softly, gave the Captain one last squeeze, then retreated from the kitchen. “I’ll need a cab, J,” he said, moving to the elevator and hoisting his now empty black bag higher up his shoulder.

“There is already a car waiting for you, Lieutenant,” the AI said. “As you are rather unfit to operate any machinery for the next seven hours.”

“Oh hush,” the man grumbled as he stepped into the elevator. “No judgment from you, thank you very much.” The doors slid closed, leaving the Avengers to ponder the man’s words and their promise.

Two days later, Natasha returned to her room from her morning workout, threw her towel into the basket, and moved to the closet to change.

Sitting upon the mahogany dresser in the oversized closet was a small white envelope. Sharp eyes narrowed at the offending item that had appeared in the two hours she had been away.

Slipping a knife from the elastic of her underwear, she went into a crouch, letting her eyes explore the rest of the closet. Once clear, she moved to the side, eyes now roaming through the main room, seeking out any hiding places. Once sure she was alone, she crept closer to the dresser, eyes narrowed to the envelope.

With her knife, she deftly flipped the envelope over, revealing nothing on either side. Running the blade over the entirety of the envelope, she felt that it contained just two small, almost flat objects less than a finger length long. Frowning, she took the envelope and unfolded the flap.

A small slip of paper fluttered to the surface of the dresser and two small bobby pins fell on top of it. Frowning, she reached for the pins, picking one up and spinning it in her finger. As her finger graced the tip of the pin, she hissed and dropped it. A droplet of blood appeared on her finger.

She glared at the offending pin, and frowned at the end. It appeared to be blunt – a normal bobby pin. Frown deepening, she reached for the slip of paper, carefully avoiding the end of either pin. Unfolding the small paper, the frown disappeared.

In a messy scrawl that Natasha instantly recognized as belonging to their resident billionaire were the words, ‘Sorry I’m prickly’. She beamed.

Clint popped open the final vent leading up to the roof and shimmied through the small opening and into the chilly air. Taking a grateful breath, the archer beamed at the view of the city splayed out at his feet.

Straightening and dusting off his pants, Clint moved to the small pile of blankets he’d gathered and positioned in the small space between large piping adorning this section of the roof. He halted.

In the middle of the pile of mismatched blankets was a thick leather glove. Curiosity spiking, Clint knelt down into his little nest and plucked it up, twirling it idly in his fingers. The color was a mix of jet black and dark maroon – matching his suit, he realized with a grin.

He lowered his gaze to the blankets, looking for its twin. Instead of a second glove, a white paper lay folded just under where he had found the first. Picking it up and unfolding it, he beamed.

A rather crude drawing of Iron Man flying was scribbled on the paper in bright red and gold. On its back, a large bird sat with one wing holding Iron Man, the other brandishing its middle feather, literally giving Clint, ‘the bird’.

Under the ridiculous drawing were the words, ‘Now you can have my back’, scrawled in tiny, messy handwriting.

Clint let loose a bubble of laughter that quickly turned into raucous cackles as he doubled over from the force of his mirth.

The afternoon of the third day found Bruce huddled over a microscope. Looking up and reaching for his notepad, he froze.

Tony Stark stood in the doorway, leaning against the door in an attempt to look blasé. The apprehensive look in his eyes, however, belayed the attempt.

“Tony,” Bruce said, surprise evident in his voice. “It’s good to see you.”

The billionaire didn’t make a move to enter further into the lab. Instead, his teeth caught his lower lip and hesitance colored his face.

Bruce thought the man might be deciding whether to run away or not. Giving the man the choice on his own, and allowing him an option to retreat, Bruce turned around and fiddled with his centrifuge for a moment.

When he turned back around, he couldn’t help the grin that formed when he saw Tony had moved to the stool just inside the door. The man gave him a weak smile in return before turning his gaze to his fingers.

Pushing down his curiosity, Bruce forced himself to return to his work, allowing Tony to take as much time as he needed. Long minutes passed, and Bruce fell back into his research.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.”

Bruce looked up from his microscope, utterly surprised. “What?” he asked weakly. “Why?”

Tony flinched a bit and gulped, obviously uncomfortable. Bruce frowned, wracking his brain for a reason for the apology. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Tony,” he said softly after a minute.

“Yes there is,” Tony said, finding his voice. He squared his shoulders and took a firm breath, steeling himself. Bruce just gaped at him.

“You shouldn’t have had to watch that.”

Bruce blinked, taken aback.

“I shouldn’t have made you watch that,” Tony amended, looking away from the doctor. “For that, I’m sorry.”

Bruce made the conscious effort to close his mouth. “Tony,” he began, unsure of what exactly to say. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Yes I do,” he said, looking up a Bruce, more resolve forming in his dark eyes. “I was selfish.” He spit the words out with surprising venom. “I knew about your…history,” he continued, the venom gone, replaced now with sorrow. “I knew, and I didn’t care. I let my anger cloud my judgment and I caused you pain.”

Bruce stiffened a bit, realizing where Tony was going with this.

“For that, you deserve my apology,” Tony finished, breaking eye contact again.

“I’m glad I got to see those videos, Tony,” Bruce said slowly, hoping the genius believed him. “As horrible as it sounds, I’m glad that you shared that with me. Even if it was in anger.”

It was Tony’s turn to gape at Bruce. The doctor pushed down a chuckle and a swell of childish pleasure at rendering Tony Stark speechless.

“But,” Tony continued, a little flustered. “Watching that, Bruce, that couldn’t have been…easy.” The man leaned back in the stool, looking at everything in the room besides Bruce.

“Well, yeah,” the doctor admitted, his smile grim. “But it wasn’t ‘easy’ for anyone, really. It’s hard to see your friend hurting.”

Tony blinked up at Bruce, wincing.

“In an almost selfish way,” Bruce continued, wringing his hands together, “I’m glad I’m not alone.” The doctor’s eye flickered to Tony’s nervously. “I’m thankful that others have listened, but there’s something comforting to know someone really understands.”

Tony winced, closing his eyes. “Sorry, Brucie, but I wish I didn’t understand,” he mumbled, brow furrowed.

“Me too, Tony,” Bruce whispered.

The two men waited in silence, one with his head tilted back against the wall, the other watching nervously from behind a metal work table.

“We’ve got some shitty fathers,” Tony mumbled, opening his eyes to observe the ceiling. Bruce chuckled darkly.

“But some good friends.”

Bruce’s throat constricted and his vision blurred as tears welled at Tony’s quiet, but heartfelt statement. Sniffing, Bruce smiled weakly. “Yeah, Tony,” he said, voice thick. “We sure do.”

Tony brought his face down to return Bruce’s weak smile. “Thanks, Bruce,” he said. The doctor gave him a quick nod. Tony brought his hands together and stood, the tender look now wiped from his face, replaced by a familiar snarky grin.

“Well,” he said in a bright tone, “things to do, greatness to create. See ya, big guy.”

Bruce watched the man turn on his heel and saunter out of the lab, the usual bounce in his step somewhat muted, but present. The doctor sighed and went back to work, but not without a small smile on his face.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Steve found himself back where it had all began. Stretched out on his back, the soldier stared up at the sleek ceiling, drowning in his thoughts.

After an entire day of contemplation and self-imposed exile, the swirling lump of anger and loneliness lodged in his chest that accompanied Steve’s ‘bad days’ had lifted. In its place, however, was a toxic mixture of sorrow, guilt, and helplessness.

For hours, Steve cursed his temper, his blindness, and his words – the desire to take everything back engulfed him, settling upon his body with such a force that even his serum-enhanced body could not fight it off.

Steve rolled onto his side, tucking his elbow beneath his head, and screwed up his eyes in an effort to rid himself of images of a young Tony Stark.

He needed to apologize. But how? And Rhodes had warned him to let Tony come to him. It had been three whole days, and Steve knew that the genius had approached the others already.

Clint had come into the den waving around a thick glove and a ridiculously poor drawing of Iron Man in front of Natasha’s face. Steve had grinned at the picture while listening to the archer rave about how much easier the glove was going to make flying with Tony. He had pushed down jealously as the two assassins argued over which new toy was better – Natasha’s deathly hair accessories, or Clint’s new glove.

To his great surprise, Bruce had wandered into his room the day after and detailed his and Tony’s brief exchange. Again, Steve was plagued first with jealousy, but then anxiety. What if Tony never came to him?

“Jarvis?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Can you please call Lieutenant Rhodes?”

“Certainly.”

Steve sat up and walked into the small sitting room, standing in front of the television and waited for Rhodes to answer.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” Rhodes greeted solemnly, his face appearing on the screen. The man looked better than the last time Steve had seen him – the dark circles under his eyes were gone and there was sharpness now in the depth of his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

“Lieutenant,” Steve greeted, nodding. “It’s about Tony.”

Rhodes’ eyes hardened as worry flickered across his face. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Steve said quickly. “But that’s the problem.”

The Lieutenant’s face softened as he realized the problem. “He will come, Captain,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Tony just needs more time.”

“But there’s so much I want to say. I want to apologize and –“

“Tony doesn’t really like apologies,” Rhodes said, cutting Steve off.

“But I was so wrong about him. And I can’t believe all the things I said to him.” Steve began to shift, wringing his hands as he spoke. “I feel horrible about everything. I wish I had known, I want to –“

“Captain,” Rhodes said, interrupting Steve. “I appreciate that you feel bad, and I want to remind you that you couldn’t possibly have known about Tony’s childhood.”

Steve took a breath and watched the Lieutenant’s face cautiously, wanting desperately to believe the assurances the man was providing him.

“Tony didn’t expect you to know those things, and I doubt he’d ever want you to know, really. But I need you to listen to what you just told me.” The man’s eyes focused on the soldier with intensity.

Steve complied, running through his words and the feelings behind them.

“I know you feel guilty,” Rhodes continued. “I know you want to apologize, but why do you want to apologize?” Steve frowned at the man, unsure where he was trying to go with this.

“Because I was wrong, and I feel horrible about it,” Steve answered slowly. Rhodes just nodded.

“What you want, in order to make you feel better is to apologize,” Rhodes continued. “But do you think that is what Tony needs from you right now?” The man’s voice wasn’t hard or chastising, but the words still pierced Steve.

The Captain thought on that for a moment, letting the Lieutenant’s words sink in.

“No,” he finally said, looking up to Rhodes’ eyes. “It’s not.” The man gave him a small smile and a nod.

“You’re a good man, Steve,” he said. “And I know you feel guilty for pushing him, but if Tony really didn’t want any of you to see those things, you wouldn’t have.” Steve nodded, remembering Pepper’s same words from that day.

“And though none of us can really understand what you’ve gone through,” he continued, his voice softening. “We’re here for you. And for what it’s worth, I can understand your actions that night. It’s not easy to lose people you love,” Rhodes stalled for a second, his eyes darkening. “And you’ve lost more than anyone else.”

Steve swallowed back the lump in his throat, but nodded at the man. The tightness in his chest loosened at his words, and the guilt swirling in his stomach calmed.

“Thank you, James,” Steve said, his voice small. He received another small smile before the call disconnected, leaving the soldier standing alone in his rooms, his thoughts calm for the first time in three days.

The next day, Steve and Clint were lounging on the couch in the den, the archer trying to defend his new favorite television show.

“Marriage is supposed to be a sacrament,” Steve argued, frowning at the man sitting opposite from him. Clint just snorted, twirling an arrowhead expertly between his fingers.

“It’s the 21st century, Cap,” he retorted. “And sacraments aren’t nearly as entertaining as wealthy bimbos fighting over frilly, outrageously expensive dresses.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Weddings are a time for love and the joining of families. Not throwing around money and petty squabbles.”

“What’s petty about flower arrangements?” Clint asked in mock-horror, hand coming up to press against his chest. Steve snorted.

“Listen here, Cap,” Clint said, gesturing to the soldier with his arrowhead. “There’s nothing – nothing – better than a couple of babes playing tug of war with some lace.”

“I could think of at least twelve things better than that,” a voice huffed from the doorway.

Steve whipped his head around so fast, his neck cracked.

“And those don’t even include anything sexually deviant.”

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed, fighting the urge to run over to the man. Stark’s face was held forcefully indifferent, but Steve could see the exhaustion written into every line of the man’s silhouette.

“Hey Cap,” he responded, uncrossing one arm from his chest to inspect his nails.

The following silence was awkward at best. Clint looked between the two heroes with a frown before standing and walking briskly out of the room. As he passed Tony, he poked the genius in the side with the tip of the arrow and quipped out a soft, “Play nice,” before retreating.

Tony grunted in response, but continued the silence. Steve squirmed in his seat, caught between not wanting to scare the man away, but wanting to talk to him. He had planned his speech carefully, each word memorized to the detail.

“Meet me in the garage in thirty minutes,” Tony said suddenly, catching Steve off-guard and completely ruining his carefully contrived speech. The man turned on his heel and began to leave.

“Oh,” he added, pausing and looking back over his shoulder at the stunned Captain. “And wear your dress blues.”

Steve just gaped at Tony’s retreating back, flabbergasted.

Thirty-five minutes later, Steve exited the elevator and into the garage, his steps slow and hesitant. He half expected to be alone in the garage, that their short conversation was just a dream.

Those expectations were thrown out at the sight of Tony Stark leaning casually against his silver Audi.

“You’re late,” the man remarked, turning and sliding into the car. Steve took a moment to collect himself before walking over to the passenger door and joining the billionaire.

Without any explanations, Tony revved the engine and pulled out of the garage and onto the road.

Steve clenched his seat as Tony expertly maneuvered the car at ridiculously fast speeds through downtown Manhattan. Nearly thirty minutes later, they had made it out of the city and onto open road, hugged the coastline, and Tony sped up.

At the protesting of his hands, Steve finally released his death grip on his seat, flexing his fingers and focusing on the view from the window. As time passed, it was tempting to start his speech, as Tony was stuck in the car and therefore forced to listen to what Steve wanted to say.

But as each minute passed and the silence continued, Steve noticed that Tony’s tense form began to relax. His death grip on the steering wheel loosened to a lazy, one-handed hold, his jaw unclenched slowly, and by the end of the first hour, the man was leaning back in his seat comfortably.

The soldier decided to wait until Tony wanted to speak, focusing his attention on the coast as the car sped down the highway, content to take in the sights for a while.

As another hour crept by, Steve’s curiosity roared its head, making the man shift in his seat. Finally, he decided to break the silence.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice soft, fearing the sound would bring back the tension in his companion’s shoulders.

Tony’s grip on the wheel tightened minutely, but other than that, the man didn’t respond. Seconds turned to minutes, and Steve gave up on any answer.

“Someplace I should have shown you a long time ago.”

Steve chanced a glance at his companion, trying desperately not to spook him, but desiring to study his face. Tony’s eyes were tight, but otherwise the genius was calm. Steve accepted his answer, settling in for a potentially long and silent car ride.

As the two neared their third hour in the car, Tony pulled off the freeway. Steve sat up straighter in his chair, eyes drinking in the surroundings.

Old stone buildings fitted together down long blocks adorned with huge maple trees, thick orange leaves glowing faintly from the afternoon sun. Steve raised his eyes skyward, taking in the distant rise of skyscrapers, the buildings unfamiliar to him.

“Where are we?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Massachusetts.”

Steve turned to Tony, his mouth agape, his stomach dropping.

“Massachusetts?” he repeated, ignoring the fact that his voice just went up several octaves.

“Hmm,” Tony confirmed, eyes focused solely on the road. Steve gulped.

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared. He had always meant to see her, but this was too soon. Steve closed his eyes and willed his heart rate back to normal. What if she didn’t remember him? Fear burned through his chest.

“Cap.”

Steve forced himself to glance at Tony. The man turned down another street, peeking over at Steve with a frown.

“Relax.”

The Captain let out a shaky breath, inwardly laughing at himself. This is what he wanted. This was Peggy.

The Audi cruised down several more streets, the skyscrapers looming ever closer as they neared the city, before Tony pulled the car into a small parking lot.

The genius exited the car quickly, leaving a hesitant Steve to linger with one hand on the door handle. Much to Steve’s surprise, Tony didn’t rush him to move. Instead, the man leaned back against the hood, his back to Steve, fingers flying over his phone.

With a deep breath, Steve opened the door and joined Tony. At his presence, the genius started for the quaint building, not looking back to ensure his companion followed him.

Steve observed the building over Tony’s shoulder with apprehensive interest. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but an old Victorian style, three-story building with a small rose garden in front surprised him. It was quaint, homely, and traditional – three things Steve wouldn’t have ever expected from Tony Stark.

Steve followed the slightly shorter man up the front steps, his artist’s eye taking in the russet brown bricks in contrast with the ivory pillars lining the entrance. His eyes moved to the modest plaque adorning the wall next to the front door.

‘Carter Stark Institute’ was written in elegant gold script, catching Steve’s eye and forming a lump in his throat. Reaching out, Steve brushed the tips of his fingers against the curling letters forming Peggy’s name.

Tony opened the door and strode into the foyer, bringing Steve’s attention away from the plaque. The soldier noted the ease and familiarity in his companion’s strides, speaking to the number of times those feet had taken this path.

“Mr. Stark,” a pleasant voice greeted, directing Steve’s attention to the large desk spanning the entire back wall of the front sitting room. “It’s lovely to see you again,” the woman continued, her smile genuine as she looked at the billionaire.

“Couldn’t stay away from such a pretty face,” Tony said, giving the woman a brilliant smile.

“Yes because you’re so obviously lacking in the eye candy department, Mr. Stark,” she replied, winking and sending a grin to Steve, who felt himself blush slightly.

“His legs might beat yours, but baby his pecs have got nothin’ on yours,” Tony said, leaning against the desk and tilting his head down to look at her over the top of his sunglasses suggestively. Steve rolled his eyes, but the woman’s bright laugh sounded through the cozy room.

“I’ll let Edith know you’re here,” she responded, still smiling.

“Let her know I’ve got a guest,” Tony said, moving to the elevator and pressing the button.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

“Thanks, Caroline,” Tony added softly. Steve caught a glimpse of a fond smile forming on the woman’s lips before the doors closed and the two men began to ascend.

The short elevator ride was silent, Tony leaning with his back against the railing and arms crossed, and Steve nervously standing at rest to his right.

The gold doors opened to reveal another sitting room decorated with plush, confortable chairs and warm hardwood floors. Tony pushed off the rail and moved forward, passing through the sitting room, and stopping before a thick wooden door, rapping his knuckled lightly against its surface.

After only a moment, the door opened to reveal a short, plump woman with sharp brown eyes and light grey hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes locked on Tony, narrowing slightly as she looked him up and down.

“You need to sleep more, Tony Stark,” she said in a thick British accent, disapproval in her eyes. “You look like hell.”

Steve watched, surprised, as Tony looked down and shuffled his feet in an uncharacteristic gesture of contrition. “I’ll work on that,” he said, his voice containing only a hint of the usual Stark sarcasm.

“Hmm,” the woman hummed, pursing her lips. “I’m sure.”

Steve grinned slightly. This woman was a force to be reckoned with. His grin faltered as brown eyes turned to him.

“Hello, ma’am,” he said, straightening and offering his hand. “I’m –“

“Captain Steven Grant Rogers,” she said, bringing her wrinkled hands to her hips and observing him. Steve dropped his hand and found himself mirroring Tony’s sheepish posture.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“We’ve been wondering when we’d get a visit from you.”

Steve winced. “My apologies, ma’am.”

“It’s not his fault.”

Steve looked up to gape at Tony. The man had recovered his usual spark, and was now grinning at the woman.

“I should have brought him along sooner,” he continued, shrugging. “By the way,” he said, as the woman just observed him quietly. “Steve, this is Edith Davies, head nurse here, and a good friend.”

Steve nodded at the woman, determined to gain back whatever favor he had lost. He held her gaze firmly, feeling like the woman could read his soul through his eyes with the intensity of her gaze.

Whatever she saw, she must have found it satisfactory, for her lip twitched in a small smile and she nodded to him.

“I’m glad you’ve come, Captain,” she said, offering the man a small smile. Steve returned it with one of his own, relieved that the ice was gone from her stare.

“She is having a good day today,” Edith continued, looking now to Tony while reaching for a chart on the wall next to the door. “She didn’t fight her medication this morning.”

Steve watched as Tony nodded, his face serious, and took the chart. His eyes scanned the paperwork and nodded again, apparently happy with whatever the charts said.

“Where is she?” he asked, eyes still locked on the paper. Steve tilted his head in confusion.

Edith sighed, apparently understanding Tony. At the resigned sound, Tony frowned, his mouth turning down as he continued to stare at the chart.

“I believe she’s still in the ‘70s, unfortunately,” Edith continued, her voice softer now, eyes full of sorrow as she looked at Tony. “I’m sorry, Tony,” she added, resting one hand lightly on the man’s forearm.

“I’m afraid she hasn’t responded to the new treatment. She hasn’t been able to hold onto any short term memories.”

Steve’s heart ached for the man, understanding now what he had been asking. He made to reach out for the genius as well, but his attempts at comfort were thwarted as the man stepped aside, replacing the chart.

“Well, let’s do this,” he said, rubbing his hands together and plastering a fake smile on his face. “Hop to it, soldier,” he continued, turning to walk down the hall.

Steve watched the man saunter down the hall for a second before moving to catch up. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, turning back quickly to Edith. The woman nodded solemnly before returning to her office.

Steve caught up with Tony as he turned the corner, and together they stopped outside another wooden door. Both of the men stood silently for a moment, each hesitating on the doorstep.

“Well,” Tony said finally, turning his back to Steve, facing the large bay window and inserting his hands into his pockets. “Here you are. I’ll be waiting out here while you two get reacquainted.”

Steve stared at the man’s back, confused.

“Aren’t you coming in?” he asked, turning to face the man.

“Nope,” Tony said, popping the ‘p’.

“Tony,” Steve began, uncertain.

“This trip is for you, Cap,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders.

“But she’d want to see you too, Tony,” Steve insisted, taking a step toward the man.

“She doesn’t even know I exist,” Tony hissed, shoulders tensing. “She couldn’t possibly want to see someone she doesn’t know.”

Steve flinched, heart aching.

“Go on, Cap,” Tony said, his voice tired. “I’ll be waiting out here.”

Steve hesitated. He wanted to see Peggy – he hadn’t realized just how much until he had walked up those steps. But what if she didn’t recognize him? What if it she was mad at him? What if –

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep thinking so hard,” Tony said, amusement in his tone. “Just go in.”

Steve took a deep breath, nodded, and turned back to the door. Before he could second guess himself, he turned the nob and opened the door.

The afternoon sunlight streamed in through open windows, casting a warm glow on the room, enhancing the grains of the wood floor. Turning his head, Steve’s breath caught in his chest.

Peggy Carter was sitting up in bed, completely engrossed in a worn book. Though seventy years had passed, Steve could still see the woman he knew under the laugh lines and silver hair. She was beautiful.

Brown eyes blinked and peered up at him from over the book in her hands. She blinked again. Then gasped.

“Steve?”

Her soft voice brought back memories of late nights huddled over maps, too-short breaks in the dining commons, and whispered goodbyes over a radio.

“Hey, Peggy.”

“Steve,” she said again, her voice growing thick as her eyes filled with tears. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah, Pegs,” he said, smiling through his own watering eyes and moving closer to her bed.

“You’re alive,” she whispered, the book dropping from her fingers as she reached out to clasp his hands with surprising strength. “You’re alive,” she repeated, her voice wavering.

“I’m alive, and I’m here now,” he said, taking a seat in the chair next to her bed, doubting the strength of his legs at the moment.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, one tear finally escaping as she brought his hand to her cheek. Steve pushed down his own tears, determined to smile for her, and wiped the tear from her cheekbone.

“I’ve missed you too, Peggy.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Steve’s eyes roving over Peggy’s familiar features, cataloguing each change.

“You stood me up, you know,” she said finally, moving their clasped hands to rest on the bed beside her. Steve chuckled.

“My apologies,” he said, smiling at her sadly. “I really wanted to make that date.”

“Well,” she said, fixing him with a stern glare. “One apology isn’t going to make up for it. You kept me waiting awfully long.”

Steve could see the glint of a smile in her eyes as she reprimanded him, and he couldn’t help the grin forming on his lips.

“Oh you think it’s funny do you?” she asked, raising a brow. “I’ll have you know I fended off at least three unwelcome advances while I waited.”

Steve couldn’t help it. His small chuckle turned into a giggle, then into full out mirthful laughter. After a moment, Peggy’s light laughter followed, and the two grasped onto each other as their laughter filled the bright room.

He was pulled from his happiness when Peggy began to cough – a deep, throaty cough that sounded horribly painful. He helped her sit up a little straighter, rubbing her back lightly. When it ended, Steve reached over and helped Peggy drink from a glass on the bedside table.

With another light chuckle, Peggy fell back into the pillows and patted Steve’s hand gently. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a small smile. “I caught a cold last week, and Howard demanded I come get it treated.”

Steve froze.

“Stubborn man,” she continued. “I told him that it was nothing. We have so much work to do these days.” She shook her head. “We have a meeting planned with the White House next week, and I haven’t finished putting together the paperwork.”

Steve watched sadly as she continued, outlining her preposition for S.H.I.E.LD.’s newest budget change. It ached to see what the disease had done. But she seemed normal, Steve mused, watching her. She had the same sharp wit, fiery passion, and confident command as before.

Steve focused again when she suddenly stopped talking. He looked to her to see she was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Peggy?” he asked, concerned.

“Steve?”

His heart plummeted.

“Steve?” she repeated, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “Is that really you?”

Steve pushed back the overwhelming sorrow. “Yeah, Peggy, it’s me.”

“Oh Steve,” she whispered, reaching out hesitantly to rest her hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling and fighting back against the sadness.

“It’s been so long,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. Steve’s breath caught in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, pausing to clear his throat. “Yeah, it has Peggy. I’ve missed you.”

“I knew you were alive,” she said, sniffing. Steve opened his eyes to watch her, smiling at the happiness in her face. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Couldn’t leave my best girl,” he whispered, breath hitching again. Peggy chuckled weakly, a tear falling from her eye.

“What happened?” she asked, eyes wide and curious.

Steve hesitated. “When I crashed the plane, I was encased in the ice. My body was preserved.” Peggy nodded, and Steve could see her thoughts whirling.

“Howard was right,” she said, reaching out her hand. Steve took it carefully, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. “He never stopped looking.”

Steve felt the vestiges of guilt and anger swirl in his chest.

“I thought he’d go crazy,” she said, the happiness slowly fading from her eyes, replaced by something darker. “He was fine for the first few years,” she continued, looking up at Steve, pain in her eyes. “He helped so much with forming S.H.I.E.L.D., and dove head first into his work.”

Steve swallowed and tried to calm his beating heart.

“He even married,” she sighed. “Who would have thought the Howard Stark would marry?” Steve grinned lightly. “She’s great, Steve,” she said, capturing his gaze again. “Elegant and kind. She convinced him to start a charity under Stark Industry’s name.”

Steve nodded, squeezing her hand softly.

“And they had a son,” she said, a brilliant smile breaking out over her features. Steve took it in, a little breathless at the site of such happiness. “Steve, he is absolutely wonderful.” Steve’s heart clenched.

“What’s his name?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Tony,” she said, her smile widening. “He’s brilliant, Steve, but so much more than that. He's perfect.”

Steve couldn’t help but feel his heart warming at the look of pure adoration on Peggy’s face. He had seen the look from the camera, but there was something infinitely more tender seeing it in person.

“He’s still so young, but he’s built the most incredible things.” She turned to him, gripping his hand more tightly. “He is going to do great things, that baby boy.”

Steve nodded. Peggy was absolutely right – Tony accomplished incredible feats, built the most amazing technology, and survived through the most horrible situations.

He felt the grip on his hand tighten and he looked back to her face. She fixed him with the most piercing gaze, and Steve’s heart clenched to see the fear in her eyes.

“Peggy, what --?”

“Steve,” she whispered. “You have to get him out of there.” Steve’s breath left him.

“I’m not allowed to see him,” she continued, panic now swirling in her brown eyes. “Steve, he won’t let me see him.”

Steve stood up and leaned over her, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “It’s okay, Peggy, deep breaths…” She was clearly panicking, her breaths coming in short gasps.

“Steve, you have to talk to Howard,” she continued, looking up at him. “He’s gone mad – he isn’t himself.”

“Shh,” he said, rubbing her back softly. “I know, Pegs. I’ll talk to him.”

“I haven’t seen Tony in months, Steve,” she said, her voice breaking. “Tony…”

Steve watched as Peggy’s breath broke in shuddering sobs, her eyes screwed up again the tears threatening to spill. He panicked.

Turning, Steve walked to the door and wrenched it open.

“Tony,” he said, almost flinching at the pleading in his tone. The genius was standing where Steve had left him, gazing out the large bay window. At his call, Tony turned around, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” he said, fear on his face. “Is she okay?”

“Please, Tony you have to come in,” Steve begged, taking the couple steps to reach out and grab the man’s arm. “Tony, please,” he said, when the man didn’t move.

Something in his tone must have convinced the man, for Tony nodded and rushed to the door, Steve right behind him.

“Peggy,” Steve said, stepping in front of Tony and returning to Peggy’s bedside. “It’s okay, look, Tony’s here.”

He looked over to Tony, intending on calling him over, but the look on the man’s face stopped him. He looked utterly terrified.

“Aunt Peggy,” he started, backing up a step.

Confused, Steve turned back to Peggy. His stomach dropped.

Pure hatred was written in every line of Peggy Carter’s face.

The venom stunned Steve into silence.

“YOU,” Peggy hissed. Tony flinched. “How dare you show your face in here!”

“Peggy, what --?” Steve began.

“You monster!” she screamed. “How could you?”

Steve was shocked and utterly confused. He looked back and forth from Tony to Peggy, the former looking completely defeated, the latter venomous.

“He is you child!” she yelled, eyes staring holes into Tony’s head. “And you are the most vile excuse for a man I’ve ever seen!”

Understanding hit Steve with such a force he had to literally take a step back. “Peggy, stop,” he begged, coming forward again. “That’s not Howard.”

“Damn right it’s not! You’re not the man I though you were, Stark,” she spat, eyes never leaving Tony’s face. “You can say all you want about making the world better, but I know what you really are. You’re a vile human being, an utterly heartless monster!”

That was the last straw for Tony. The man turned tail and practically ran from the room, the door bouncing off the wall as he threw it open in his haste.

“Tony!” Steve called, moving to the door. Looking back to Peggy, who had lowered her head into her hands, Steve made up his mind.

Steve ran down the hall in search of the genius, passing Edith and a woman in scrubs as they headed to Peggy’s room.

“Captain Rogers, what is –“

“Please just take care of her,” he said, barely sparing them a glance as he continued down the hall in search of Tony.

Turning a corner, Steve halted. At the end of the hall, back pressed against the corner of the room, stood Tony Stark.

Shoulders hunched and hands covering his face, Tony Stark looked as if he was trying to disappear into the dark wood at his back. The man’s shoulders shook lightly, and Steve could hear the shuddering gasps as Tony attempted to control his breathing.

The sight broke Steve’s heart. He could see ten year old Tony Stark cowering in front of his father’s desk, nineteen year old Tony Stark curled into himself against his kitchen counter, fighting back the tears that would only further evoke his father’s rage.

It took four long strides for Steve to reach Tony, one second to pry the man’s hands from his face, and another to pull him tightly to his chest.

It took Tony two seconds to comprehend his new position, one more second for him to start pushing weakly against the soldier’s chest, and five seconds of protest for him to realize he didn’t want to break free.

Steve felt Tony slump against him in defeat, and tightened his arms in response, tilting his head down to rest his forehead against Tony’s shoulder.

“You’re amazing, Tony,” Steve said softly. To hell with his prepared speech, Steve thought. Throwing out the words he’d painstakingly memorized, Steve just jumped in.

“You’re so brave – to the point of stupidity sometimes, you know that?” he chucked, voice muffled against the other man’s shoulder. “You’re the first to jump into a fight, and the last to leave the scene.”

“You spend a ridiculous amount of time in your workshop making sure that we’re safe and prepared – don’t think I don’t know that it’s you who makes our gear and not S.H.I.E.L.D.” He was rewarded with a gruff chuckle.

“You try to sneak your kindness by us, and it doesn’t work. You’re a giver, Tony. You specially designed each of our suites so that Bruce had an easy escape, Clint with a rooftop exit, Natasha with only one avenue of entrance or exit, and Thor with a view of the stars at night.”

“When you drink, you become giddy and ridiculous and sloppy, but never angry, aggressive or rude,” he continued, despite Tony’s mild flinch.

“You talk to Dum-E like a child when you change his oil, and it’s always with fondness, if a little exasperated. You never shout.” Tony tensed again.

“And you gave Pepper so much love,” Steve pressed, squeezing the man a little bit tighter. “You never gave her any reason to think you didn’t care, or that you were too busy for her. You gave her the world, Tony, and she knows that.” Tony’s breath hitched again, and Steve rubbed the man’s back slowly.

“Tony,” he said slowly. “You are nothing like your father.”

The tears Tony had been fighting against so valiantly finally escaped, and the man clung more tightly to the soldier as they spilled down his cheeks.

Steve just accepted the tight embrace, rubbing soft circles into the man’s back and offering gentle soothing words.

When Tony’s breath evened out, Steve released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Picking up his head, Steve opened his eyes and rested his cheek against the side of Tony’s head, breathing deeply.

“And Tony,” Steve began, tightening his hold once again, fearful of what he had to say next. “She wasn’t saying those things to you. She was saying them to Howard.”

Tony didn’t respond, just flinched in Steve’s hold.

“She does remember you,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “She told me all about this beautiful, brilliant child who was going to create the most incredible things the world would see. She told me about a kind, sweet child who she loves. She said his name was Tony Stark.”

Tony gave another weak laugh that sounded like a sob. “She said that?” he asked, his voice incredibly small. Steve just chuckled.

“She did,” he said. “And she was right.”

The two men stood together, embracing, for several more quiet minutes, each collecting themselves.

“Thanks, Steve,” Tony whispered, voice hoarse, finally pulling back from the man’s chest. Steve smiled.

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” Steve said slowly, closing his eyes again, pushing back the guilt as he released the genius. “And I definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you.” Steve’s voice turned dark with anger. He had lost control. He could have hurt his teammate. Tony just chuckled.

“I’m made of stronger stuff than that, Cap,” he said, a hint of spark back in his voice.

“I know, Tony,” he said sincerely, looking up into his eyes. “You’re Iron Man. You’re a hero.” Tony’s answering smile filled Steve with warmth, easing away the pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” he said, looking at the man earnestly, hoping he could convey his sincerity through just those three words and his eyes.

Tony nodded and rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder. The smile didn’t quite remove all the shadows from his eyes, but the haunted look had disappeared.

“You’re forgiven, Steve,” he said, his voice open and warm. Steve grinned and mirrored the man’s gesture, bringing his hand to rest on Tony’s shoulder.

“After all,” Tony continued, his smile widening, finally bringing the spark back into his brown eyes. “We all have our bad days.”

The End