Chapter Text
There were many dangers to being Tony Stark. They included being kidnapped for his brilliance, being betrayed by father figures, dependency on high tech pace makers, and the possibility of liver failure due to alcohol poisoning.
None of those dangers were more lethal to Tony Stark than his own curiosity.
Case in point, when digging through a crate of his father’s SHEILD gave him, Tony found a sealed lead box. Inside said box was a glowing blue stone.
Well, he just wouldn’t be Tony Stark if he didn’t experiment a bit.
*
The story starts like this.
Her name is Ida Thomason and she runs an antique shop that is actually a secret government lab. Her reaction to the blinding blue light and oddly dressed man appearing out of thin air onto her shop floor is the sensible one.
Tony regains his senses to the muzzle of a gun leveled between his eyes.
Despite their introduction Ms. Thomason proves to be an important ally.
“Oh, you run into all types of odd things in this job dear,” she told him later over the bitter taste of rationed coffee. “Just last month, we had three rats escape from downstairs. They chewed right through their cages and broke at least two walls! Nasty little beasties, let me tell you.”
Ms. Thomason introduces him to Dr. Erskine who listens to his story with a frown.
“Best we keep this between us for now, yes? I have a friend who teaches Physics in Boston. He will help you, without the problems these military likes will give you. When I am done here, I will be free to take you to him.”
“Free?” Tony asks, alarmed and concerned for this stranger that reminds him of Yinsen.
Dr. Erskine gives him a dry smile.
“I am an important man working on an important project who has admitted to helping the Nazis create a super weapon. I have eyes following me everywhere. But as soon as we can, I promise you, I will find you the help you need.”
“The Nazis?” Tony asks, startled. Just when is he?
“Welcome to America, Mr. Stark, 1942.”
Tony’s fingers start a nervous tap against the arc reactor in his chest.
*
“But… wet science.”
“You are a smart man, surely you can fake enough knowledge in biology to pretend to be my lab assistant.”
“No offense doc, but biology was my least favorite science in school.”
“You have a different cover story in mind?”
“How about I’m Howard Stark’s long lost half brother coming out of the wood work to share in the family fame and fortune?”
“You do not do subtle very well do you Mr. Stark?”
*
Tony and Dr. Erskine are taken from the Brooklyn antique store to New Jersey two days later. With both Erskine’s and Ms. Thomason’s voices to vouch for him, Tony manages to slip past Colonel Philip’s suspicious stink eye.
The first night on the military base, Philips hands them a stack of files and leaves them to get settled into one room with two beds.
Tony tinkers with the doctor’s broken watch as the man shuffles through the files, mumbling in German and growing agitated.
“No, this will not do,” the doctor growls, slapping the last of the files closed.
Tony looks up from the watch and reads the cover of the top file.
“Project Rebirth?” he asks, startled. Dropping the watch, he scoops up the file.
“Ah, yes, did I not say?” the doctor asks. No he had not talked about his project, there hadn’t been time.
“We are creating the next generation of soldier. Actually, your father, he is involved on the project.”
Tony’s face must give something away.
“Ahh, you know! You know what is going to happen! Quick, do any of these men look- no! No, what am I thinking. Don’t tell me anything, we can’t risk changing it all,” Doctor Erskine amends hastily collecting the files, clutching them protectively.
Later that night, after the doc is asleep and plans have been made to find his own recruit, Tony sneaks a look at the files Philips left. None of these faces remind him of his childhood idol.
*
The doctor leaves the base for two weeks and comes back with a blond man so skinny, a gentle summer breeze could snap him in half. His name is Steve Rogers.
Tony knows him as Captain America.
*
It does not take long for Tony’s number one flaw to reassert itself. Curiosity had always been his weakness.
Besides, Captain America was the best thing that his father had ever had a hand in creating according to a couple drunken rants. Tony wanted (needed) to meet the man who left such a large shadow on his childhood.
It isn’t hard to get the man alone. He’s practically an island in the mess hall, a lone figure in the middle of a dozen empty chairs.
“Seat taken?” Tony asks, moving to sit across the table from the solider in training. Rogers startles out of his study of the questionable food items on his plate. He raises an eyebrow at the empty seats around him.
“Careful, sitting here might catch you a plague,” Rogers answers.
“I’m a scientist, I laugh in the face of plagues,” Tony replies. He sets his tray down and glances at Rogers’ plate. “Something wrong with the food?”
“Donnu’. I’m allergic to that half,” Rogers explains, gesturing to a pile he had made on one side of the plate. There is not a lot left on the other side.
“Ah,” Tony says, taking a deep bite out of his kind of stale bread. “That sucks.”
“Pardon?”
Ahh, yes, slang.
“Nothing, never mind. Want some of my…” Tony searches Roger’s plate for something that had ended up on the approved side. “ahhh…. Potatoes?”
“Thank you, but no, I can’t take food off your plate.”
“No, no, see, we’ll trade. I’ll take the food you can’t eat and you can have my potatoes,” Tony insists, warming to the idea as he reached across the table to implement his fantastic plan.
He is in the middle of the switch when his inner-Pepper starts to whisper to him about manners. He looks up at the soldier across the table from him and feels his cheeks heat a little bit.
“Or, you know, we could not.”
“No, no, its fine. Thank you, ahh…”
“Anthony Rhodes, but just call me Tony.”
“Steve Rogers, good to meet you Tony,” Steve introduces with a smile, accepting his plate back before giving Tony’s hand a shake.
The attraction is instant, like a spark of electricity dancing between their hands. Oh, well that was interesting.
Steve’s eyes widen just a bit and he licks his chapped lips. The handshake carries on a little too long to be considered polite, but the soldier seems in no rush to move his hand.
Very interesting.
*
Agent Carter is a scary woman. It is probably a good thing Pepper isn’t here, the two would take over the world together.
“Well Mr. Rhodes, what do you see today?” the agent asks as the two watch the recruits work on their push-ups. Tony brings his clipboard up, pretending he was glancing at notes.
“Classified, I’m afraid,” Tony says, eyes trailing back up to the soldier struggling the most not to land face first in the dirt.
He becomes suddenly very aware of a presence just next to his ear.
“You are not subtle. What you are contemplating is illegal. You need to stop before you get you both into trouble,” Agent Carter whispers, voice soft but strong in his ear.
Tony does his best to control the jerk in his movements as he backs away from her. He meets her eyes. There is no disapproval there, only trace amounts of concern.
He nods and begins to move away, but the Agent grabs his arm before he can go too far.
“And if I have any reason to think you are pressuring anyone into… indecent activities Mr. Rhodes, I will make your life very difficult.”
This time Tony cannot quite control his backward movement. The agent’s smile is all teeth as he hurries away.
Yeah, Agent Carter just might be the scariest person he has ever met.
*
Tony’s unadvisable decisions start like this; a hot wet kiss shared behind the barracks after a long day of training.
*
But before the decisions are made, it happens like this.
Tony is helping Dr. Erskine record and measure the recruit’s results. A pointless task, as both men already know who will be receiving the super solider serum.
The two exchange clipboards back and forth as the recruits trickle in from their final evening run, the drill sergeant riding them hard with Agent Carter standing at the finish line, stopwatch in hand to record their time. As usual, Rogers is nowhere to be seen.
“I’ll wait for him.” Tony says, shooing the exhausted doctor to his bed.
The doctor nods and walks back with the last of the stragglers. Minutes later, the drill sergeant gives up with a huff.
“Don’t even know where we lost him. Knowing Rogers, it could be hours.”
Agent Carter looks at Tony, concerned. Tony hands her his clipboard.
“I’ll find him.”
“No need Mr. Rhodes, I can go myself.”
“It’s getting dark and of the two of us, I have the most practical shoes for a search and rescue,” Tony points out, gesturing to the agent’s dress shoes with their heels and low ankle.
Carter bristles.
“If you think that I am incapable of looking after the recruits in my care…”
“Not what I meant, Agent. Promise! It’s just that I have been reliably informed that mud and heels do not go well together. I’ll go find him and then bring him back here to you, yeah?”
Carter studies him for a minute and then nods.
“Do hurry back Mr. Rhodes.”
“Yes ma’am,” he salutes with a sloppy arm.
It takes only fifteen minutes of walking to find the struggling solider. Steve is still moving forward under his own power, but only barely, gasping and clutching his chest.
“Ah shit, are you having an asthma attack? Please don’t pass out on me,” Tony requests when he reaches the soldier.
“No… I’m… fine,” Steve wheezes.
“Yeah, you sound it,” Tony reaches to take the pack from Steve’s back only to have his hands slapped away.
“I… can do… this…” he says, voice surprisingly strong for how breathy it was.
“Really? Because I think you need to sit down for a sec,” Tony gives up on getting the pack and concentrates on trying to get the soldier to stop for a minute.
“No… I ha…have to… prove…”
“Steve, you’re not going to prove anything if you pass out!”
“No! Ever… everyone… thinks they… know… what I’m… capable of… I ne… need… to kn… know,” Steve gasps, doggedly moving forward.
Tony gives a frustrated huff, but gives in to the urge to trace the casing of the arc reactor. At one time everyone had known what he was capable of too.
“Fine, wheeze to death. But don’t try to say I didn’t warn you. Stubborn ass aren’t you?”
A small smile graces Steve’s lips.
*
It takes forty minutes to get back to Agent Carter and her watch, where Steve promptly collapses in a coughing fit.
Carter raises her eyebrows and hands Tony the appropriate medical supplies to deal with the asthma. When they get Steve breathing again without coughing, Tony spots a flash of relief on her face.
Steve’s head lolls until it bumps into Tony’s shoulder where it stays. Carter gives Tony a small, almost devious smile before she collects the watches and clipboards and leaves for the night.
“Thanks,” Steve rasps a few minutes later.
“For what?”
“Just… being here I guess,” Steve responds, sounding exhausted.
Behind the barracks on their way to bed, Steve leans forward.
“There’s no time for this,” The soldier mutters below his breath.
“For wha-?” Tony asks, cut off when the smaller man surges forward into a hot, wet kiss. Stunned, Tony freezes.
Steve stills and pulls back, eyes searching out Tony’s in the dark, questioning. Worried.
“Oh,” Tony remarks, licking his lips. Well... “I disagree.”
The time traveler bends forward and kisses the worried look away. Steve’s body sags against his, the only skin contact is the press of lips and fingertips where Steve holds Tony’s neck for support.
When they pull apart, both men are panting and Steve’s bony fingers are leaving bruises in Tony’s neck.
“Disagree with what?” The solider gasps out, trying to keep his panting breathes as quiet as possible.
“There is always time for this,” Tony explains, leaning his forehead down to rest on the smaller man. He would make time for this, even though he was short on it. And why not? He wouldn’t be here too long. And neither would Captain America, really.
The thought of Steve’s eventual fate causes Tony to startle. Intellectually, this whole time he has known that the man in front of him will be dead before the war ends, but now…
Tony chases that thought away and presses his forehead down a little harder. There is time for this.
*
Agent Carter meets his eyes over coffee the next morning in the mess where he sits with Dr. Erskine. She raises a brow and tilts her head to the side, studying him.
He raises an eyebrow. She smirks back, letting her gaze travel beyond his shoulder. Tony looks behind him to find Steve standing in the middle of the mess hall, staring unabashedly at his neck. When Tony meets his eyes, the solider startles and hurriedly shuffles into the line for breakfast.
“Those are interesting bruises on your neck,” Agent Carter’s voice murmurs quietly to his ear, where she sits on his left. “I imagine you might need a jacket with a high collar.”
Tony turns looking for support from the doctor on his right, only to find the seat empty.
“Is this the part where you threaten to disembowel me?” Tony asks quietly. Agent Carter sniffs.
“Hardly Mr. Rhodes. It is quite obvious that the situation is… mutual between the two of you,” the agent answers in a dry voice. “No reason to warrant my attention.”
“Stop me if I’m wrong, but it was you that said something about this being illegal.”
“Yes, it is illegal. Which is why it is important for you to remember that the situation must remain mutual between the two of you. Otherwise, it will not be my attention you need to be concerned about. I will ensure that. Understand?”
“Yes,” even in his wildest days of sexual antics, consent had been of his golden rules. Jarvis’ influence he was sure, since it certainly wasn’t an attitude he learned from his father.
“Then I do believe that we will get along just fine Mr. Rhodes,” the agent chimes, sipping her tea.
Tony smiles and spies his solider hesitantly making his way over to their table, glancing uncertainly at the higher ranking officer sitting next to Tony.
“I look forward to it, Agent Carter.”
*
“What do you want to do with your life?”
“Be a soldier.”
“No, no. If there was no war, no Nazis or secret government parties to hang out at, what would you do?”
“Well there is a war, and Nazis, and secret government parties to… hang out at. So I want to be a soldier.”
“Okay, fine, after the war. What do you want to do after the war? Wait, wait, let me guess. Sketchbook, charcoal stains… I’m thinking artist. You’re totally going to be one of those morose artist types.”
“Art’s a hobby Tony, not really a career.”
“Alright, I give up. Just tell.”
“It doesn’t really matter you know… I don’t have the money for an education.”
“Okay, but let’s say you did. Dream big. What is the best job in the world to Steve Rogers?”
“Well, I guess… I mean, my mom, she was a nurse, ya know.”
“You want to be a nurse? I could get behind that, if you get what I’m saying.”
“What!?! No! Nursing’s woman’s work.”
“Well, that was unexpectedly sexist of you. What would Agent Carter say?”
“Look, did you want me to tell you or not?”
“Fine, fine, Mr. ‘Make-Me-A-Sandwich’. What is your manly career dream?”
“It’s just, my mom used to work with retired soldiers. From the Great War. They had a lot of problems you know, cause of shell shock. And then a lot of them were homeless cause of the Depression. If I could go to school, I think I would do something that helped them.”
“That’s kinda cool. Would you go into psychology or something? Or maybe start a non-profit. I could see you doing that.”
“It doesn’t really matter does it? It’s not a position I am ever going to find myself in.”
“What? No faith in the American Dream?”
“American Dreams are for those with resources or the luck to find them. Of which, I have neither.”
“There is a certain amount of irony in you saying that.”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just ignore me. Hey, you going to finish that?”
*
The glorious days of Camp Leigh end rather suddenly. Tony leaves Roger’s ass alone for one minute only to hear later that the solider attempted to throw himself on a grenade.
One. Fucking. Minute.
Apparently that little act of heroism in the face of danger, real or not, is enough to get Steve Colonel Phillip’s grudging approval.
Dr. Erskine comes to bed triumphant that night. Tony leaves his bed in dread.
He meets Steve in the now abandoned barracks and falls into the man with passionate desperation that surprises even himself.
After the two of them have attempted every deprived act stamina allows, Tony stares up at the ceiling. He has one hand in Steve’s hair where the solider rests on his shoulder. The other is counting the smaller man’s vertebra.
“I knew this was coming,” Tony whispers to himself in the dark when Steve’s breathing evens out. “What the fuck?”
There in the dark quiet space between them, Tony is able to admit to himself that he might be in a bit too deep.
*
The next day, Tony washes Dr. Erskine’s blood off his hands while waiting for his newly bulked up lover to finish the government ordered blood tests.
Barring his teeth as he scrubs hard at clean hands, Tony scratches out the “might”.
*
Minutes, hours later, Tony sits on the floor of the bathroom, thinking fast. Now what does he do?
On the one hand, he could attempt to track down Dr. Erskine’s lead and hope it pans out. Or…
Tony’s fingers take up an agitated rhythm against the arc reactor.
The little blue stone in his father’s stuff is what got him here. Possibly, something similar to it could get him back.
Tony groans and gets up to find the most frustrating man in the world.
*
“Mr. Stark,” Tony calls, approaching his father who is meticulously investigating the Nazi submarine, “got a question for you.”
“Just a rose and dinner, boy, it’s the best I can advise you. Some fellas just have that natural smooth charm, but most don’t. No, there’s not much I can do for you there kid.”
“Wha-? What!?! No!” Tony exclaims, a tad mortified. “No! I wanted to see if there was any room on your team!”
“Oh, a job. Well then, why should I hire you?” Howard asks, barely paying attention as he scoops a piece up from the inside of the sub, puzzled by its existence.
“I work wi- worked with Dr. Erskine. I was his assistant,” Tony answers, watching his father who was still more interested in the machinery before him then anything the time traveler has to say.
Tony rolls his eyes. Nothing new there then.
“Look,” Tony starts, plucking the machinery right out of Howard’s hands. The busy little Stark assistants circling the sub all stop and stare. “Hire me because I know that this is the battery that runs the radio system in the sub as a back-up power source in case the engine fails.”
Tony climbs into the ship and hates the thrill he gets from Howard’s undivided attention.
“See, it probably plugs into one of these slots,” he digs his hand around, feeling for empty ports or extra panels on and under the dash. With a smirk of triumph when he finds what he’s looking for, Tony plugs the oversized battery into its port with exaggerated flourish. The radio in front of him blares to life in glorious static.
Howard stares at him for a second, face blank. Then he gives a laugh.
“Alright, kid. You got a job. You got a name?”
“Anthony Rhodes.”
“Right, right, so Tony. You got the job. Just after we check your teeth for any poison capsules. After all this nasty business with that Nazi asshole, well, you understand.”
*
For all of an hour, Tony can’t help but cheer his brilliant plan. Yes, now he is stuck working with Howard every day, but Steve will be there too.
Tony searches the facility for the solider only to find him deep in conversations with some senator or another. Tony frowns.
“Philips doesn’t want him on the front,” Agent Carter informs him, coming to stand next to him. She wears a frown to match his own. “The senator seems to have a use for him though.”
“You can’t be serious.” Tony grouses, facing her.
“The senator will keep him from being locked up in some lab somewhere,” she reasons, causing Tony to cringe at the idea. “Previous recipients of the serum were not so lucky.”
“There were others?” Tony asks, surprised.
“Exactly, Mr. Rhodes,” the agent says solemnly. “They received incomplete versions. What Ste- that is, Mr. Rogers has now is the most stable version of the serum we have been able to produce.”
Tony glances at Steve, knowing his worry was showing on his face. Agent Carter took pity on him.
“Don’t fret so. With the backing of the senator, Steve will be fine,” she reassures.
“Surely, Mr. Stark can help?” Tony asks, remembering all the stories Howard used to share about his old war time buddy Captain Rogers.
Agent Carter shakes her head, looking puzzled. “Why would he do that?”
Tony sighs. That is what he thought.
*
“The senator, he wants me to help the home front.” Steve tells him later after Tony sneaks into the other man’s Brooklyn apartment. The two of them share a bottle of German beer Tony had found in Dr. Erskine’s things on Steve’s cramped bed.
Across the room, an empty bed stands collecting dust. Whenever Steve looks at it, his face goes pensive. Tony doesn’t ask.
“He has this idea, for a show. He thinks I can help sell war bonds,” Steve continues as he passes the half empty bottle back to Tony. He sounds like he is desperately trying to be excited, but by now, Tony knows Steve has the worst poker face.
The bitter taste of the beer dances on Tony’s tongue.
“Howard Stark offered me a job,” he admits. “Now that Dr. Erskine… I’m to go with his team to London.”
Steve swallows before taking another long sip from the bottle. He puts the bottle on the floor.
“I don’t want this to be good-bye,” Steve breathes as he turns to Tony. For a second, Tony is jealous. To live so honestly… how can Steve do it?
“Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t good-bye,” Tony says, letting his typical arrogance slip into his tone to cover up how scared he is. If Tony finds the solution to getting home before Steve comes to the front… If Tony dies out there…
No, he really needs to put a stop to this. Tony doesn’t belong here to begin with. This is good-bye. It has to be.
But what comes out of his mouth is, “We’ll write each other. That’s a thing people do right? We’ll write each other and when I have a break or time off or whatever, I’ll come out and visit.”
Steve smiles hopefully and reaches for him. Tony goes willingly, losing his concerns in the slick press of heated skin. There is so much to learn about Steve’s new body. The inventor explores with relish.
Later, head cushioned on Steve’s chest, Tony can admit that not only is he in too deep, he doesn’t care.
Whatever. He was never a cautious man by nature.
*
The first month without Steve is painful for many reasons.
Number one being the very obvious lack of Steve in his life.
Number two is that he is now required to make weapons again. (His hands always feel dirty now, in a way they never have when working with dirt, grease, and machines.)
Number three is the reminder of all the reasons he hates his father.
Tony makes sure to highlight all his problems with Howard in his letters to his lover. Steve in turn starts to voice his growing discontent with being a “dancing monkey”.
The second month is more bearable if only because Tony makes a friend.
“The reports you need are to your right. No, wait! I need your opinion!” Tony cries out before Agent Carter turns to leave the lab. He receives a raised eyebrow in return.
“Look, when firing the gun out in the forest, is it better to be subtle or speedy? Because, I can increase the speed of the bullet, but it causes a much louder bang,” Tony tells her, looking disgruntled at two assault rifles before him.
If he was in his own lab seventy years in the future, he really wouldn’t be having this issue.
“To what advantage is there in increasing the speed of the bullet?” Agent Carter asks, walking up to where Tony stands with his guns.
“I donno, faster bullet, more likely to hit what you shot at? It’s something Philips is concerned about this month,” Tony responds.
Agent Carter rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“The bullets already travel at a speed that make it near impossible for a human to react to. Something subtle is less likely to get people killed,” she tells him, “Although, I have to say Mr. Rhodes, in the heat of the battle, neither of those two components is going to have a lot of impact.”
“So basically what I’m doing is a waste of time,” he says, twitching. Agent Carter sighs.
“It would be better if you were researching the HYDRA weapons our boys brought in last week,” she admitted.
“Bunch of scrap metal is what they brought,” Tony huffs in frustration. There is nothing he or anyone on Howard’s team can reverse engineer from the destroyed pieces the SSR soldiers had won. Mainly because when the weapons were in any other state, it was impossible to get close to them.
“They are trying their hardest,” Agent Carter reminds him, a hint of reproach in her voice.
Tony looks up at her. “I know,” he frowns down at his guns and decides he should probably just table the whole problem. “Thanks.”
Agent Carter looks at him in surprise, before smiling and walking out the door with the files she needed from him in the first place.
A week later, she brings him a small pistol and asks him to modify it so that it shoots quieter. Tony grins and hands her the final product in less than twenty four hours.
*
The months drag on. Tony visits Europe four times before being pulled back to the SSR base in London.
By the third time, he doesn’t even bother telling Steve. The guilty jealously and worry in the other man’s letters frustrates Tony.
He wants to tell his lover to have patience, but he knows he is hardly one to throw stones.
*
It is on the third trip out to Europe that Tony first meets James Barnes.
The solider is throwing a right fit over a replacement rifle he was issued. Tony happens to step in to the tent right when the engineer Barnes has tracked down decides to stand up for himself.
“There is nothing wrong with your rifle! We fired it yesterday! How ungrateful can you be, it’s a brand new Stark gun!”
Barnes’ lip twists which only seems to highlight the shadows under his eyes. He raises the rifle up and shakes it at the engineer.
“Like fuck! It jammed twice on me today! Twice! In the middle of a fucking fire fight! This piece of shit is gonna’ get me killed,” he said in a hiss, throwing the gun at the other man’s feet.
“Hey now! Don’t do that,” Tony exclaims, jerking forward and scooping up the gun, “Not the gun’s fault.”
Barnes blinks at him, anger draining under a wave of pure exhaustion. Tony worries when the man sways.
“Whoa there solider,” he says, guiding the other man down to a nearby chair. “I think you need to go get some sleep.”
“What I need is a new gun,” Barnes growls, arms crossing angrily, jaw jutting out at a stubborn angle.
“Okay, look, why don’t you sit there and I’ll take a look at this,” Tony offers, shaking the rifle he still held in his hand.
The technician behind them scoffs.
“Don’t waste your time, Mr. Rhodes. The gun is in perfect shape. I think this a classic case of user error,” he sneers, dismissively.
Barnes stands up. “Are you sayin’ I don’t know how to fire a gun!?!” he exclaims, outraged.
Tony intervenes before the situation degrades, “Yeah, see, you might think that, being you know… you. But someone with a little more, you know, genius, can already see that the hammer is at the wrong angle.”
The technician gives an outraged squeak and Tony flashes him a toothy grin, “Run along kid, leave this one to the brains of this organization.”
The technician flees and Barnes practically collapses back into his chair. After a moment of silence, Tony turns to the gun. He starts taking it apart with single minded focus.
“Do you always do that?” Barnes asks moments (minutes, hours) later.
Tony’s head jerks up, having forgotten where he was. He looks up and blinks at the solider in the chair across from him before looking down at the almost reassembled gun.
“Do what?” he asks.
“Talk to things.” Barnes answers, gesturing to the gun. Tony shrugs and goes back to putting it together.
Soon enough, he hands a fixed gun back to Barnes.
“Here. Problem in the trigger. One of the springs was getting stuck on… ahh, you probably heard all that the first time, what do you care? All fixed now though, better than new,” Tony reports before pulling out a second gun from a hidden holster at the small of back that Peggy had gifted him with. “But here, have a second gun. No worries, this is one of my own personal ones, nobody will miss it. Can’t hurt to have a hold out weapon, yeah?”
Barnes studies him for a minute before nodding his thanks and leaving.
Over the next three days of his visit, Tony becomes incredibly busy fixing the problems the soldiers bring him. He fixes jams and triggers, provides better ammunition and even repairs binoculars.
He startles to hear his first name on Barnes’ lips the day he is to return to London. The man gives him a devilish wink and a chocolate bar from a care package.
He returns to London feeling strangely satisfied.
*
Tony debates telling Steve about his encounter with Barnes, but…
He reads through Steve’s last letter, full of thinly veiled frustration and a sense of uselessness.
Maybe it’s better to wait until the two are reunited in person.
*
The fifth time Tony goes to Europe, he arrives the day before the 107th is captured by HYDRA.
Peggy finds him the night it happens and the two of them get gloriously, bitterly drunk. The next morning they are back to taking inventory of the missing, wounded, and dead. Tony discovers that Barnes is on the first list.
Tony grits his teeth through the hangover. The suffering is a pathetic penance for his failure.
*
Strangely enough, the dark shadow cast by the missing 107’s is enough to distract Tony from a crucial piece of information.
Steve’s USO tour is coming to Europe.
The day of the show, Tony is busy repairing a motorcycle with single minded focus. He startles when Peggy interrupts him, then drops all his equipment when he sees the drowned rat she pulls in with her out of the rain.
“Steve!” he practically shouts, jumping up in joy. He manages to catch himself in time before he kisses his lover in the make-shift garage, but a hug is utterly necessary at this point.
The feel of the other man’s arms around him is like a breath of fresh air. The letters just aren’t enough.
(A quite voice in his head wonders what it’s going to be like when he goes back home. He squashes it.)
Steve hugs him back with desperate strength.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” Steve demands. Tony shrugs.
“It frustrates you,” he responds honestly, too tired to hedge at this point.
“Gentlemen, we have a strict time table,” Peggy points out from Tony’s elbow before Steve can respond. She continues, “Tony, we need your help.”
And that is how Tony finds himself piloting his lover over smoky skies, carefully dodging shells in a small aircraft. His grip on the controls tighten as he watches Steve’s parachute plummet to the ground.
The need for his armor is a physical ache as he turns the plane around.
*
The ache gets worse as the wait begins.
*
Two days since he flew Steve out to enemy territory. Howard just laughs at his story with a nudge and wink about Peggy’s beauty. The woman in question looks like she’ll punch his father in the face.
*
Three days. God, he hopes Peggy isn’t actually fired.
*
Four days. Shit, this happened the first time around, right? This isn’t something that he messed up by even being here?
*
Five days. Tony busts out the illegal alcohol he brought with him. There is not a lot left from his and Peggy’s original bender, but Steve’s missing in action letter goes out today and…
A cheer goes up outside his tent. He drops the bottle to investigate only to confront the most perfect sight. Peggy and Steve stare each other down as the solider shows the agent a broken radio. At Steve’s shoulder, Barnes starts up a chant for Captain America in a sea of rescued POWs.
Tony retreats back into his tent and toasts the birth of a superhero.
*
They return to London in victory. The men Steve rescued from HYDRA experiments are given a full medical, and then a full meal.
Tony watches as Steve’s title becomes more than honorary. Captain Rogers reports for duty with all the zeal and enthusiasm Steve can muster.
Now all he needs is a team.
Tony catches Barnes and Steve at the bar later that night.
“Scotch. Best one you got,” Tony orders as he sits down on Steve’s left. Barnes whistles when its served.
“Expensive tastes there Rhodes,” he says, admiringly.
“Possibly going to die out there, so why the hell not. Looks like I’m your team mechanic,” Tony says this last part to Steve.
Steve frowns, but Barnes whoops.
“I thought Howard was going to work with us personally?” Steve asks. Tony shrugs away the sting that question causes.
“Can’t risk a genius inventor on the front lines like you can a lackey,” Tony responds. Steve’s frown deepens.
“Shut up, Steve. Rhodes is the best mechanic we got. Don’t chase him away, the boys will never forgive you,” Barnes demands as he shoves his friend. Steve’s frown lets up a bit, but it doesn’t go away.
*
“I don’t like it.”
“Like what? Cause I thought that was brilliant sex myself!”
“Shh, Tony!”
“What? It’s my apartment. We’re fine here. You can be as loud as you want. Like when I bite right here…”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Okay, fine. What don’t you like?”
“I don’t like you being on the front line.”
“Steve, I make guns for a living. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Tony…”
“No. You think I like the thought of you in danger? Not for a second. But you’re a soldier. I’m not going to ask you to step away from the action. Don’t ask the same thing from me.”
“I just… you’re a civilian. This isn’t your job.”
“Not too long ago, you were too. Look, Steve, there is a lot you don’t know about me. Trust me when I say, safe is just not something I do very well.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll face this together Steve, as long as we are able.”
*
Tony helps Howard paint the shield. It is the most peaceful the two of them have ever been together.
Tony delivers it to Steve personally that night. Then he sucks the man off, Steve biting his hand to keep quiet.
*
He never does find out why Peggy is mad at Steve though.
Whatever it is, it causes Steve to flush in embarrassment and guilt for two weeks.
Tony asks Peggy.
“Don’t worry yourself about it darling. I made sure it won’t be a problem. Now, have you had a chance to test the material Howard gave us against handheld pistols?”
*
The next three months are considerably better than the others. Not only is Tony away from his father with Steve’s team on missions (the Howling Commandoes, he is fighting in World War Two with the Howling Commandoes!), he gets an important piece to his ticket home.
“That gun!” Tony shouts at Steve as they take cover behind a wall at a smoking HYDRA base. “I need that gun!”
The gun in question glows blue, much like the HYDRA weapons the 107th had returned with. But this one isn’t in Howard’s loving care and he needs a source to experiment on that won’t be missed.
When Steve brings it to him, Tony says that it is the best Valentine’s day gift he ever received. Bucky rolls his eyes at their antics.
*
Tony experiments on the stone inside the gun in the quiet between missions.
He melts down a couple of bullet shells and makes himself a little metal box to carry around with him.
The experiments are slow going, with the need to hide the stone. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
The excuse only sounds hollow when he melts into Steve’s kisses.
*
“You never take your shirt off.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I just… is there something I should know?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just uncomfortable with people touching my chest.”
“Tony, you know you can trust me, right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous Steve. Of course I do.”
*
World War two is like this:
Death is a constant backdrop everywhere Tony walks. Its beside them when they pass burned out farm houses. Its behind them when they leave the wounded and dying behind at camp. Its under them as they advance forward, heedless of the enemy soldiers fallen beneath their feet. Its ahead of them as they march on to root out HYDRA everywhere it nests within Europe.
Death is everywhere, but life is the only connecting theme. It appears in the little German children Steve evacuates before a battle can start. Tony sees it again when a resistance fighter makes a miraculous recovery, minus one leg. He feels it when he and Steve can catch twenty minutes alone, the powerful heartbeat in Steve’s chest as it sings for him, only ever for Tony.
Time is fluid and never consistent. There isn’t enough of it when they need to reach a HYDRA base to stop experiments on civilians. But they seem to get it in spades when they are waiting for orders to press on.
Tony is not always fighting with Steve’s team. The lab with Howard is ever calling him back. But when he is out there, fighting with Captain America and the Howling Commandoes, it is anything but glorious. There is no beauty to it, only brutality.
Tony has been called the merchant of death. Never before has he felt so comfortable with that title.
It is the most exhilarating and terrifying thing in the world.