Archive of Our Own ^beta

Your nails impatiently thrum against the hard leather of the common room's chairs.

You check your watch again.

23 minutes late. 23 minutes of time and money. 23 minutes he could hold over your head. 23 minutes of power.

Power was all that existed in your relationship with Tony. His constant grabs for power. His need to remind you that you would always be second to him. It was the only language either of you spoke.

Dramatic, but true.

The whole room was so very Tony Stark. Ostentatious. Ultra modern. A nose dive into the future. And not a person in sight. No doubt Tony sent all his precious team mates away. How convenient. Heaven forbid any of them actually meet you.

You have half a mind to leave. You know Tony. This whole waiting game was one big power move to prove that he could summon you and you would appear. You shouldn't have come in the first place.

He didn't have the courtesy to call you, not that you would've answered in the first place. No, he sent Happy to tell you that he needed to speak to you. You weren't invited. You were summoned.

And now, he was making you wait. Just to prove that he could.

You've half convinced yourself to leave when an unfamiliar man stands in the very corner of your peripheral. He meekly waves, clearing his throat, "Um... excuse me, can I help you?"

With a bored, borderline unimpressed look, your eyes flicker up, "No."

He clears his throat again, that polite smile never faltering as he rubs the back of his neck, "Um, well, ma'am, this floor is closed off to the public. We don't allow Stark Industry guests or visitors up here."

You look up at him again with the most polite smile you can muster, "It's fine."

"It's not, ma'am," he insists. "It's a security issue."

You offer another, tighter smile, but patience was never your strong suit. "I'm waiting for Tony. It's fine."

You almost feel bad for your curt tone, it's not this stranger's fault for your terrible mood. It's Tony's.

"Well, the thing is, Tony is well aware of the protocol. It's his building after all."

You snort at the statement. Tony's building. Even if it weren't for the way the building stuck out like a sore thumb on the New York skyline, the Stark name in bright lights, the whole building screams Tony Stark. Stark Tower makes your head hurt as much as Tony Stark himself.

You resent every second you're in the building.

You hate being here as much as Steve Rogers hates you being here.

You tilt your head, quirking an eyebrow at the man, "Do you just take care of imagined security threats or is there something you actually do here?"

Steve quirks an eyebrow back at you, resting his hands on his hips with a bemused smirk, "I never said you were a security threat, a security breach, absolutely."

"And how did you deduce this?"

"A strange, mild mannered yet very attractive woman is sitting in a restricted area of Stark Tower. I, someone who does have authorization approach, and said women tries to distract me -"

"Is it working?"

"What?"

"Am I distracting you? Keeping you from going about your day? What exactly is it about me that you find distracting?"

"Well, you're very - hold on a minute, you just did it again," Steve points out with a wry grin.

"The way I see it, Mr. Rogers-" You stand up out of your chair, heels clicking onto the sleek marble floors of Stark Tower.

"How did you -"

"You have two options." You hold up two fingers, spelling it out for Steve. "You can go and get Tony and let him know that I'm sitting here waiting for him or you can sit here with me until Tony pulls his head out of his ass and waltzes out of his office - just to make sure I'm truly not the security threat you imagine. Your choice."

"Or, third option, I can call security and have you removed," Steve challenges you, a triumphant smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You return the smirk, resting on the arm of the leather couch. "You can certainly try."

He chortles, "Are you always this stubborn?"

"I prefer insistent. And yes, I am." You plant your hands on either side of you, teasingly shrugging your shoulders. "If I'm bothering you so much, why don't you remove me yourself?"

"I would never put my hands on a woman, and I never said you were bothering me, I only said that you're not allowed to be up here."

"I've given you your options. Take your pick."

The elevator dings before Steve can choose either option. Happy steps out of the elevator, looking like his normal frantic self.

Steve sighs in relief as Happy bustles over in your direction, "Happy, can you let security know that there's an unauthorized person in our residential quarters?"

You look over your shoulder at Happy, "Happy, you can let security know they aren't needed. Mr. Rogers is currently having a senior moment."

"Got it," Happy nods, immediately agreeing with you. "Have you -"

"What?" Steve guffaws, "Happy, don't -"

"You're a lot less charming in person," you blithely observe. "Has anyone told you that?"

"Have you talked to Tony yet?" Happy asks you. "Please, tell me he didn't leave you here waiting this whole time."

"Not yet," you scoff, looking down at your watch. 31 minutes late. "He's been more than content to keep me waiting here with Mr. Rogers as my companion."

"I'm not your -"

"Ah, speak of the devil and he shall come," you mutter, rolling your eyes as Tony strolls through the common room as though he's not over 30 minutes late to your meeting. "Brother."

"Sister," Tony coldly greets you from a distance.

"Sister?" Steve squawks. There is no warmth in the greeting. If Steve didn't know any better, he would say that a frost entered the room when Tony did.

"30 minutes late, Anthony," you chastise. "Maybe I should get you a watch for Christmas."

"Really? I thought you were too busy stealing Christmas from Whoville to celebrate," Tony quips.

You purse your lips at Tony, folding your arms expectantly, "To what do I owe the displeasure, Tony?"

"Maybe I've just missed that sparkling personality of yours," Tony sarcastically retorts.

"Jealous that actually I have one?"

"I'm so confused," Steve whispers, mostly to himself.

"Happy, fill in Capsicle, we have some business to attend to," Tony instructs, wasting no time before turning on his heels and heading to the conference room.

"On it. Do I need to call Pepper to mediate?" Happy calls after you. He shakes his head with a furrowed brow like the answer is obvious. He mutters to himself, "Never mind, I know the answer to that."

"What just happened?"

"You just witnessed the eighth wonder of the world, the warm and loving relationship of the Stark siblings." Happy claps a hand over Steve's shoulder, dialing Pepper's number with the other hand. "Consider yourself lucky to have come out unscathed."

"The Stark siblings? Since when are there two of them?"

"Sometime after you went into the ice but before you came out," Happy sarcastically replies. He shakes his head, taking a moment to fix his suit as he looks at Steve with an apologetic glance, "Sorry, their stress becomes my stress and stress is one of their favorite pass times."

"Uh..." Steve awkwardly lilts.

"Look, they aren't exactly on good terms."

"They're siblings," Steve chortles, dissmively rolling his eyes. "All families fight, Happy."

"There's a reason Tony doesn't talk about her. Just like there's a reason that Miss Stark doesn't come here."

"So they got into a fight, they'll make up eventually."

"They got into a fight two decades ago. I wouldn't hold my breath." Happy turns on his heels, pacing back and forth as he dials Pepper's office. "And I strongly suggest that you don't mention that topic to either of them. It's a bit of a touchy subject."

"I'm still confused."

"Tony Stark," Happy begins, dialing Pepper again. "Oldest child of Howard and Maria Stark. And a whopping 12 years younger is the youngest Stark, the second child and first daughter of Howard and Maria Stark. And I feel like I need to say this again because I don't think it sunk in the first time, this should not be brought up to Miss Stark because this is a very sensitive subject."

"Why?"

"Pepper, please pick up the phone. The last time they were left in a room alone, I was plucking shards of glass and splinters from my suit for a week," Happy rambles into the phone. He drops the phone with an aggressively exasperated groan, "As you can probably tell, they don't exactly have the closest or warmest or not hostile sibling bond."

"I'm still confused on the why?"

"I feel like you're not hearing the very sensitive subject of it all."

Steve apologetically winces, "Sorry."

"Let me offer you some advice, whatever you do, whatever superhero compulsions you may have, don't get involved. Not even a little bit. I promise you, nothing good comes from getting between those two."

"Alright, I'm hearing you," Steve acquiesces, raising his hands in defeat. 

"Are you?" Happy questions. "Because I am strongly considering going to find a football helmet before I walk into that room. Let's not add a super soldier to that mix."

"I'm hearing you."

If only he had actually listened.

It was at times like these that Steve remembers how new he is to this world, to this society. He was never one for dating back in the 1940's. That was always Bucky's territory. The few dates Steve did have, were usually pity dates arranged by one of the girls vying for a date with Bucky. 

He wasn't really sure what overcame him this afternoon. Being so bold, so brazen. That wasn't him. 

Actually, he knew exactly what overcame him. He liked you. He couldn't remember the last time a stranger had made his heart flutter like that, made him smile like a schoolboy. 

It didn't change that dating was strange for Steve. 

He didn't truly know how to do this. That's more than clear to him as he stands in the lobby of Stark Tower, ready promptly at 8, just like you said. His favorite light blue shirt paired with his brown leather jacket. A bouquet of fresh roses in hand. 

He's blissfully unaware of how strange this night would get for him as an oversized black SUV pulled up to the door at 8:01. 

Steve takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. Happy rounds the car, standing in front of the passenger door with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep grimace etched on his face. 

"Happy," Steve nods in greeting. 

"Steven."

"Is everything alright?" Steve awkwardly chuckles, he wasn't sure whether he was asking about Happy's clipped tone or the fact that as Happy begrudgingly opens the car door for him, he looks inside to see an empty interior.

"Fantastic. Superb. Stupendous. Couldn't be better," Happy sarcastically replies, slamming the car door behind Steve. 

"I take it you're not pleased with me," Steve remarks from the back seat. 

"Whatever would give you that impression?" Happy snarks. "Is it because, I don't know, you've completely ruined the itinerary that I spent months putting together? Or is it the fact that I told you to stay out of it - that nothing good would come from putting yourself between those two? Or is it because the very first thing you did was put yourself right in the middle of it?"

Steve offers a tight lipped smile. "I guess that doesn't bode well for asking you to tell me the plans for tonight."

"Look who's finally using that head of theirs."

Happy weaves his way through the streets of Manhattan in silence. The radio off. Not a single pleasantry exchanged. Not even a backward glance. For the entirety of the 30 minute car ride, Steve schools his expression desperately trying to keep the deep seated cringe off of his face.

When the car finally comes to a halt, Steve can hardly see out into the night through the harshly tinted windows. He's half sure that Happy's going to dump him in the middle of nowhere. 

The door flings open again. Happy once again stands before Steve with a frown much more intense than his usual grumpiness, and meant specifically for Steve. 

He looks around to the damp, dark alley, a scene straight out of a murder mystery. The only thing that keeps him from being entirely convinced that his murder isn't about to occur is the fact that Steve knows Happy. And even that is a hesitant assurance at this point.

An anxious chuckle leaves Steve's lips as he steps into the alley. Happy grips Steve's shoulder as he steps out onto the asphalt. "Don't hurt her."

It's oddly endearing watching Happy be so protective over you. Steve smiles at him, quirking an eyebrow, "Isn't this Tony's job?"

"Don't hurt her," Happy repeats himself. He tips his head at Steve, "Have a good night, Steven."

"Um... Happy?"

A deep sigh rumbles through Happy, Steve can practically hear the eye roll in his tone. "Right through the door, Steve."

"Great."

The night only got more strange from there. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. That Happy dropped him off at the back exit of a restaurant in the middle of Manhattan. That there seemed to be a total of 3 people working in the whole restaurant. Or that the restaurant was entirely empty except for one table in the very back corner. 

He found you tucked in the furthest corner of the restaurant. At a table garnished with a candle and two glasses of wine. It's the furthest table away from the doors, away from any windows or prying eyes. It's quiet. Private. Intimate. "Hi."

You smile up at him. "You made it."

He shrugs his shoulders, a light, anxious chuckle falling from his lips, "I don't make a habit of asking out beautiful women and then not showing up."

Your grin grows wide. "I meant that your superhero business might've called you away, but that's also good to know."

"Oh." He rubs the back of his neck, his face burning a bright red. He abruptly sticks out the bouquet of flowers that hang at his side. "I, um, I brought these for you."

"That's very sweet of you. Thank you."

He settles into the chair just across from you, placing the cloth napkin on his lap. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I think you just did."

He playfully rolls his eyes, leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table, "You knew who I was when you saw me, didn't you?"

"Yes," you confess with a chortle. "I recognized you the moment I saw you. My father talked about you quite a lot from what I remember."

Steve smiles fondly at the memory of the man he knew all those years ago. A man very different than the one Tony often described. He could only imagine what you had to say about Howard. "He was a good man."

"He - he was a complicated man," you hedge. "From what I remember, at least."

"I'm sorry."

It's your turn for a question you wondered about since you first met Steve Rogers. "You had no idea who I was, did you?"

"I -" Steve winces.

"It's alright," you assure him. "I'm not offended. Unlike my brother, I live a more... understated lifestyle. I'm not interested in being splashed all over the front page of every tabloid and magazine."

It's only half the truth. The other half was that you quickly realized the only interest people had in you was comparing you to Tony. It was exhausting never quite living up to him, constantly living in his shadow, under the weight of the comparison to Tony and Howard. 

"Hence, the empty restaurant," Steve guesses. 

"Exactly." You look around the restaurant. You liked the quiet. You relished in not worrying if anyone was taking your picture. It was nice getting to know Steve without being under a microscope. "Though I will admit there were special efforts made to keep tonight private because of you."

Steve quirks an eyebrow at you. "Is that so?"

"I can only imagine the headlines if people found out that a Stark was on a date with Steve Rogers."

"Does that happen often?"

"No, I do my best to keep myself out of the spotlight."

An embarrassed flush creeps up Steve's face. "I meant - with - with the dates."

A chuckle bubbles out of your mouth as you sip your wine, "Are you asking me about my dating life, Steve?"

He shrugs, "Maybe I want to know if there's competition I should be worried about."

"I focus on my work."

"Your father once said the exact same thing to me."

Nostalgia washes over you. You didn't often get to talk to people who knew him so personally. Let alone people who knew him before the empire. It also doesn't escape you that you're on a date with a man older than your father. At least, he was physically around your age, you reconcile. "You were his friend."

"I was... Is that weird?"

You shrug it off, "I suppose we'll find out."

"I know Tony has some strong opinions about your father, but that truly wasn't the man I knew."

"He treated Tony and I very differently," you hesitantly broach the topic of your father. "We may have had the same father, but the dad we got couldn't have been more different."

"Can I ask? About you and Tony?"

In that moment, Steve swears he sees your guard fly right back up. Your posture stiffens, jaw tightens like you're poising for an attack. There's a bite in your tone that wasn't there seconds ago. "You won't change my mind."

"Who says I want to?"

His quick response throws you off. Most people didn't care to hear your side of the infamous story. Most people were content with the headlines of your parents' death, with the tale of your anguished brother missing his dear sister while she went to the best boarding school in the world while he dutifully undertook the mantle of Stark Industries.

People didn't question the beloved genius that is, and would always be, your brother. You couldn't think of a single time anyone had asked to hear what you thought.

"You'd be the first."

"I'm just curious, I suppose."

"You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?" Steve chuckles but remains silent, insisting that you actually answer his question. You're not really sure what to say. Let alone how much you should say on a first date. "It's complicated."

"Try me," he challenges. 

"It wasn't easy for either of us - bearing the weight of the Stark name. By the time I was born, Stark Industries was an empire. I was quite literally born and bred to carry on our father's legacy." Steve leans forward, hanging on every word you say. It makes you nervous and endeared all at once. Even with your extensive media training, all those interviews and public speaking forums, you don't really know what to say. As you momentarily gather your thoughts, he patiently waits for you to continue, "Tony and I have always known our place. The roles we were supposed to play."

"And what role is that?"

"The heir and the spare," you bitterly chuckle. Over the years, you stopped counting how many times you'd been called that. The spare. It was a moniker that your father enjoyed quite a bit. "That's what they would call us. My mother hated it. She always said that I was no one's spare."

"Your mother sounds like a smart woman."

It was the one thing you and Tony would always agree on. "She was. She held us together."

"So what changed? Between you and Tony?"

"They died," you bluntly reply. For a moment, there's a distant look in your eye as you recall the events of that fateful day. Tony didn't even tell you what had happened. He left it all to Jarvis. "It all - it happened so fast. The accident. The funeral. All I knew is one day I was at home, and the next day, Tony was gone, Jarvis is telling me that I'm being shipped off to boarding school."

"He shipped you off to boarding school?" Steve repeats in disbelief. 

There's a practiced casual tone in your voice. You've given this excuse to people before, time and time again. For as long as you can remember, there has been a long standing rumor of a Stark sibling feud. One that started when you were 8 years old. One that both you and he took careful consideration to discredit, staged lunches, well timed press photos, calculated leaks from sources close to you.

You've given the same reason to countless people. It's the same reason you give Steve. "What 20 year old wants the responsibility of raising his 8 year old sister?"

"You resent him for that." He calls it out so casually. You can count the number of people you've confided to about this. You stopped simply because people always took his side.

They always made it seem so absurd, that you could resent your brother for sending you away. After all, he went to boarding school too. So what if he didn't bother to wait until you were old enough to understand? So what if he shipped you off and forgot about you?

Your throat tightens. For some reason, you trust Steve Rogers. There's a sense of comfort and warmth that surrounds those ocean blue eyes and boyish grin.

He's the first person that hasn't already taken Tony's side. He's the first person that doesn't jump to defend the heir.

The words spill out of your mouth before you can sanitize the ugly truth. "I didn't just lose my parents that night. I lost him, too."

"So you've never been close?"

"No, it wasn't always like this. I remember it being different, before they died. I remember a time when Tony and I could actually stand to be in a room together for more than five minutes. In spite of all his flaws, Tony was everything a big brother should be. Even 12 years apart, we were inseparable." You lick your lips, exhaling softly, "But then he went off to run Stark Industries, to become the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist that the world knows today. He became the heir."

"From what I've heard, you're incredibly accomplished yourself."

You almost sigh in relief, grateful for the change in subject. You tip your head at him, "You've done your research."

"Is that wrong?" he wonders. 

"Happy tells me you're curious," you offer as your response. 

"Seems like you did your research, too," Steve grins, leaning closer to you over the table. "What else did Happy tell you?"

"You're technologically inept, still adapting to modern day society, a beacon of morality."

"Is that so?"

A coy smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "I may have added that last one."

"Well, he's right about the first two," Steve concedes. "What else?"

"He told me about your friendship with Tony."

"Tony is - he's a good man," Steve replies. "A little misguided. A lot of ego."

"Does he know you're here tonight?"

"No. Should he?"

"I think you could answer that question better than I could."

It's a painful truth, but you weren't lying when you said that you didn't know Tony and you hadn't known him for well over 20 years. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry he did that to you." His words are so sincere. Your guard slips lower than it has in years. For the first time in a long time, someone understands, someone sees you. You almost forgot what that felt like. "It couldn't have been easy for you."

You tip your glass towards him. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

He clinks his glass against yours. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

Indeed, heavy is the head that wears the crown, but heaviest is the head that was always second best. 

By the end of the night, you've made an uncharacteristically quick judgement on Steve Rogers. You like him. You actually, really like him. You stand in the kitchen's back entrance, chuckling as the date comes to an end. "I know this is a bit unconventional."

Steve dismissively waves his hand. "Please, ending a date in the back entrance of a restaurant is pretty standard for me."

"Thank you for being so understanding. Trust me when I say that it's in both our best interests that this doesn't make the morning papers."

"Oh, I believe you," Steve laughs. "And, if we're being honest, dating is a little unconventional for me."

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. "Really?"

"I wasn't exactly a hot commodity back in the 40's."

"And now?"

He echoes your words from earlier, "I focus on my work."

"I see."

"Will I get to see you again?" he eagerly asks. It only takes a flash of a hesitant expression on your face for him to backtrack, "Was that too forward? That was too forward, wasn't it?"

You quickly shake your head, eyebrows pulled in, "No. No. It's not that. I just - I'm supposed to go back to LA in three days, Steve."

Steve rubs the back of his neck, "In three days? That's... very soon."

"Though I suppose I could be convinced to make a trip or two to New York," you offer. "Unless, you'd like to come to see my side of the country?"

"You'd fly across the country for a second date?"

"Was that you asking for a second date?" you counter.

He definitively nods, "Yes, that was."

"Well, since we're being so honest, I'm actually in the process of planning this massive launch for a Stark foundation, so I'll be visiting New York more often than I'd like to."

Steve playfully clutches his chest. "Hey, don't take it out on my city."

"It's not your last name plastered on that eyesore of a building, it's usually all I see when I'm here, but maybe, you can take me on a tour of the city. Try to win me over."

"I'd really like that." Just as you're about to reach for the door, Steve stops you with a hand on your shoulder, "Well, could we - I mean, what if we snuck in our second date before you left? Or is that too eager of me?"

Your grin only widens. "It is, but I like that."

"Then, it's a date."

"It's a date."