Chapter Text
Waking up from the ice had been similar to jarring awake as you fell in a dream. He wasn’t sure what was a dream, if he was dreaming still, or if he had actually woken seventy years in the future. He spent days being ushered through hallways on what was called the helicarrier, followed by whispers and the occasional shriek of surprise.
“I thought Valeria was joking-”
“Is that really Captain America-”
“Oh my god, it is, should never have given that shield replica to Coulson, I never knew I would get the chance for Captain America to sign it-”
“How- what the hell, is someone resurrecting dead men now?”
His surroundings were insane. He spent every second drinking in everything he could absorb through the shock- the thrumming hum of the helicarrier, the clicks of the agent's boots, the gentle buzz of earpieces relaying conversations, the electronic ting to some of the automated voices-
If his shock wasn’t so bad and numbing, Steve felt he would be walking around slack-jawed and wide-eyed. His surroundings, god. Agent Coulson- the only Coulson, the one who had scores of Captain America paraphernalia, as Steve found out much later when he was asked to sign some of it- tried to give him a crash course on technology. Steve partially wished he could shrink to his pre-serum state; his fingers felt too big and clumsy as he clicked all the wrong buttons.
-x-
“They still sell paper copies of newspapers?”
Steve looked up at the dark-haired, well-suited man who had passed his room, wry, fake smile on his face and tinted glasses blocking his eyes as he leaned on the doorframe. Did sliding automatic doors have doorframes?
The agent who was trailing him was trying to push him away, but he was saying, Nicky doesn’t need to know I'm talking to his precious secret. The last bit had hidden malice or hurt in it, and Steve quickly accessed his tense pose that was trying for nonchalant. He could tell there was a story hidden there. The agent eventually wandered off, muttering that she hadn’t had enough coffee today for this.
“You didn’t answer my question.” The man’s voice sounded familiar, or something about him felt familiar.
“Um, apparently they do, an agent brings it to me,” Steve answered clumsily. He hadn’t really had a real conversation since- since then.
“There’s an app for that, Cap.” The man looked jokingly over his glasses before disappearing behind them again.
Steve stared at him, running over the vocabulary he had learned. “Newspapers are also on these devices as, um, applications?”
“Woah there, you’re using too much air. We in the future shorten about every word we can. Yes, there are hundreds of news apps out there.”
“Hundreds?”
“Welcome to the future. Has anyone taken the time to show the caveman how to use a Stark pad?” The man entered into Steve’s room, hands in his pockets as he looked around, face unreadable with those tinted glasses.
“Caveman?”
“Someone pre-tech age. Bear with me, Cap.”
“And why do you keep calling me Cap?”
“I can’t say your full title with a straight face, bit out of it right now.”
Oh. Steve quickly wondered why he hadn’t noticed the man was partially drunk.
“If there’s one thing my dad drilled into me, was how adaptable and amazing you were, and you can’t use my tech?”
“Your dad? Your tech? Who are-”
“Stark, leave the Captain alone, I got a shrill call from Pepper about having you wandering the helicarrier in your apparent state.” Director Fury now came into view, hands on his hips as he stared down the man.
“Aw, come on Nicky, baby, helping Cap is in my blood.” The man walked away from Steve, a fake smile plastered on, trying to sling his arm around Director Fury’s shoulders. Steve was just gaping. For two reasons. One, did people nowadays have any respect or was this normal? And two, Stark. Dad. In my blood-
“There’s also apparently almost enough alcohol in your system to knock you out according to Pepper and Jarvis. I have an agent outside to transport you to your jet. Now.”
The man pouted before stumbling out, and Director Fury sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand.
“Sorry, you had to deal with that, Captain. Stark was scheduled to look at our engines today, but he decided to come up here drunk, as usual.”
“Stark, as in Howard Stark?” Steve asked.
“Yes, that’s Tony Stark, Howard’s son. Designed the majority of the tech and weaponry we use, plus the bulk of the helicarrier.”
“Son?”
“Forget him, you probably won’t see him again, unless Pepper works a miracle and gets him to straighten up. We have some more history prepared for you to continue catching up.”
Steve nodded, folding the newspaper he was still holding, setting it on the nightstand of his small dorm, standing and following Director Fury out, the doors swishing shut behind him.
-x-
“What the hell were you thinking, Tony, it’s barely three in the afternoon and you’re drunk. Plus you go to the helicarrier, and find Captain America-” Pepper greeted him as he stumbled off the plane into the Californian heat.
“Pepper, ‘is whate’er.”
“Did you have more to drink? I specified the jet was to be dry-”
Tony pulled a flask out of a pocket in his suit, grinning loopily, and Pepper stared at it before grabbing it and throwing it as far away as she could.
“C’mon, Pep-”
“Don’t Pep me, apparently I have a Japanese businessman to call because you are in no state to do a merger right now. SI really needs that merger.”
“I gotta plan, big bucks, Pep-”
“Limo. Now.”
“So, see it 'ould-”
“I do not want to hear the drunken recount of your next idea you’ll probably forget once you’re hungover. Stop following me, you are not throwing up on me again.”
“-’is gonna be a bomb that’s a ton of smaller bombs, ‘n e’thing go boom.”
“Not listening, be quiet, I have calls to make.”
“Boom, Pep.”
“Help me, Happy.”
“Sorry, Ms. Potts, you are the only one he possibly listens to when he’s drunk.”
“I think he’s going to throw up.”
“Speeding up, ma’am, five more minutes.”
Tony held eye contact with her. “Bombs in’a bomb.”
And he threw up.