Hi everyone! I've had this idea for a story, taking a step away from my projects I have, and I'd like people's opinion on whether or not I should continue with it. Please read through it for me and see if you guys would like to see it continue. I, myself have an idea of where it could go (the obvious being a Tony/Steve pairing) but this is completely out of my element to a certain extent and I would love to hear input. As well, since this was put together in a couple of days there may be some editing here and there. Comments are very much appreciated, even if I don't respond to most of them and for that I apologize. But I do read every review! 3 you guys!
Anyway, here goes!
Steve Rogers, the all-American superhero well-known as Captain America, was quietly spending his time alone on a dark, rainy, night in his Manhattan apartment. He graciously took his leave granted by SHIELD after finally assembling the team known to all the world as the Avengers, stepping away for at least a few moments of being in the spotlight and having some time to himself. To him he was always on edge, not knowing when the next bout of villainy may strike, keeping a routine of training and running. The science that had sculpted his well toned muscles, thanks to a dear friend, needed to be in top form for whatever was thrown at him. His always made sure that his uniform and shield always close at hand.
Training always kept his mind off things now. It was his distraction, pushing away any kind of negative thoughts and helped him move forward. This world that he lived in now was completely different from his past. With all the technology and bustling population outside he made a simple place for himself. Sure, agents of SHIELD had tried to push him into the 21st Century and told him to travel; but it wasn't for him unfortunately, not yet. He still needed time to settle on the fact that he was thawed from ice 70 years later from the world that he knew. Rogers didn't know himself how long it would take, but he knew it wasn't going to be right now. At this point he was considered old-fashioned, stepping away from the futuristic gizmos like cell phones and cable television and sticking to old books and other literature he gathered from back alley bookstores and antique shops.
He looked away from the mirror and set the dumbbells back on the rack, letting out a slow breath. "1000."
The Captain grabbed a nearby towel, looking at the clock on the wall while he wiped his brow. 1:46am, a little earlier than normal. He looked back at the mirror, giving his form a once over. Thoughts flickered back to those many years ago, standing in front of Uncle Sam's "Join the Army" signs; scrawny and unable to run a mile without having an asthma attack, always having to rely on an inhaler. It wasn't the case now: a tall, chiseled body stood before him, a strong jaw, fine blonde hair and azure blue eyes. Any woman that saw him would fall for him given the chance. But he wasn't going to even think of finding someone to have at his side, not these women. He had already tried once in his lifetime to even consider going out with a woman, and how it turned out...
"Maybe a few more rounds with the punching bag will..." he said to himself, trying to hold on to a calm demeanor. He was a symbol of strength of hope for the people- Captain America wasn't one to falter.
He grabbed a roll of white tape, beginning to wrap his hands to prep for another round of boxing, grabbing a fistful of chains to hook up another well-beaten bag. He would've gone out on his motorcycle if it wasn't for the poor weather. The streets were quiet at this time of night, except for a few cars that would barrel down the street in the wee hours of the morning. It was one of the rare times that he would let himself be a part of the outside world. He was about to throw a punch when he stopped, hearing someone pounding their fist onto his door. He shrugged his shoulders back, wondering who would be trying to reach him this late. Agents of SHIELD knew how to access the apartment if that were the case, and he had a set few of contacts.
Another couple of thuds hit his door as he walked towards it. "Hold on. I'm coming." he said, grabbing a shirt and pulling it on while he walked, slightly curious as to who was at his door. 'Hopefully I wasn't too loud this time.'
Steve looked through the peep hole in his door only to find that the person on the other side had covered it with a finger, making him lean back, something making him uneasy. "Who is it?"
He heard a bunch of muffled slurred words coming from the hallway, but there wasn't anything coherent. He could discern that it was a male, but who he was he couldn't really tell. He was about to politely tell the man to leave when he felt a heavy thud against the door and something sliding to the floor. He opened the door slightly to find a pile of a man passed out on his threshold. The stench of alcohol riddled his skin, burning Steve's nostrils. He reached through the door and turned the mans head slightly and found a familiar sleeping face: lightly tanned skin, dark brown hair, scruffy goatee, and a reckless narcissist. The great billionaire, genius, and owner of the Iron Man.
"Stark..." Rogers muttered, a slight irritated tone to his voice. 'There goes the rest of my alone time tonight.'
Stark let out a pathetic groan in his drunken stupor, completely lost. He watched a nearly empty bottle of expensive, imported alcohol slide out of Tony's hand, some of it splashing onto the carpet in the hallway. He couldn't keep him there for long, knowing that he would have to clean up the mess the drunk was leaving in front of his apartment. And the smell...
He slowly opened the door all the way, guiding the other mans body to the floor instead of letting him bash his skull onto the hardwood of his apartment like he contemplated. There was a pained expression on the brunettes face. Steve looked him over to see if he was injured and saw nothing. The Captain slid his arms around the drunk and lifted him up with ease, turning away from the strong odour coming off the other man with each breath.
'He looks like he hasn't washed in days.' Steve noted, 'What has he been doing while he's on leave?'
Stark groaned again, his head bobbing slightly by the movement. His back leaned against the blonde's chest, his head resting on the Captain's shoulder. Steve brought him inside slowly, nudging the door to close and moved him to a large couch in the living room, letting Stark sink into the plush cushions.
Steve could only shake his head. "Why do you do this to yourself?" he said out loud, turning on a heel to get a few things for the man in case he was going to mess up of the apartment.
He grabbed a few blankets and a bucket, promptly placing it near the couch. He continued watching Stark, noting the mans chest rise and fall with each breath. The alcohol was still lingering in the air, and there wasn't any way that he was leaving the drunken genius in the clothes he was wearing. It was bothering the blondes senses, making him slightly more irritable.
"The great Tony Stark, able to drink himself under the table." Steve stated, beginning to untie the mans shoes. "Why do you do this to yourself, Stark?"
Steve heard a low moan, looking over and finding that Tony's face had softened, his body relaxed, his face nestled into a cushion, snoring peacefully. The blond shook his head, proceeding to take off the brunette's shoes and socks, leaving the pants so Stark could still have some kind of dignity even though he was completely wasted. He unbuttoned the purple silk shirt, lifting Tony's frame to slowly pull his shirt and coat up and off, slightly startled by the bright cerulean light that was coming from the drunk's chest while he slept.
Steve set the clothes aside, unable avoid giving Stark a once over; there wasn't much for injury besides a few bruises and cuts, possibly from doing work on his Iron Man suit. Hands were calloused from many hours in his shop that he had in the eyesore everyone knew as Stark Tower. Muscles were lean but pronounced on the billionaire's chest, torso and arms, the skin smooth and tight. Curiosity peaked in Steve's brain, his hand slowly moved towards the others sleeping form, hovering over the device that was keeping Tony alive, dark shadows now lingering on the ceiling and walls.
'Technology certainly has come a long way.' he thought, lifting his hand and proceeded to cover the billionaire up with a few blankets, making sure he was comfortable as he could be. The light from the arc reactor was now smothered, the livingroom dimly lit once again.
Tony shifted in his sleep, now on his side facing the good Captain. He let out another groan. "Hmmm...Pepper...?"
Steve grunted, picking up the remains of the drunks clothing. "No Stark, Miss Potts isn't here. It's just me."
` 'Good?' Steve thought surprised, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head. 'It must be the alcohol talking. Who knows what he could be thinking right now.' Steve was about to turn and leave the man to sleep when he felt something pulling on his track pants. The blond looked down to see that Tony had a hold of the fabric while still almost completely asleep.
"Don't...leave." Tony mumbled, totally lost to the world. "...please."
Steve checked the clock again, 2:18am. He would be in bed himself, even though he wouldn't be sleeping per say. He'd lay there until he would fall asleep, and then wake up a few hours later. The one-of-a-kind, chemically-engineered body that he had didn't need much time to rest like a normal human being. He set the clothes back down on the side of the couch and detached Tony's meager hold on his pants, taking a seat on the chair nearby to keep an eye on the brunette just in case.
After a half an hour Steve grabbed a random book that he read over and over, thumbing some of the pages until he found where he'd left off. He didn't read the newspapers, keeping out of recent news that was going on for the time being. He was detached from the rest of the world, not knowing what really what to do or where to go unless SHIELD gave him the order. It was the same Earth that he grew up on, the same American soil, but it wasn't his time anymore. His thoughts lingered to memories that he did his best to push aside were now flooding his brain...
The good doctor, who looked to him not as a scrawny kid from Brooklyn, but a potential soldier to fight the good fight for his country; shot and killed by a spy...
His best friend, died fighting along side him trying to capture a HYDRA weapons developer...
And his sweetheart...
'Peggy...' he thought, a finger tracing his lower lip. The first woman that he truly cared for in his life was long gone. The last woman that he kissed...
An image flashed into his brain, followed by a low cackling filling his ears. Those soul piercing eyes, that skull as red as blood, with a smile that fueled Steve's hatred and rage. 'Schmidt.'
Schmidt had won, in a way. He didn't win the war, nor get the world domination that he craved. No, he had taken everything Steve had, even led him to a suicide mission in order to save his country from disaster. However, Captain America survived, buried in ice for decades until he was rescued, stuck in an unfamiliar time, estranged by the world that he gave his life for to protect.
Steve closed the book, setting it aside as he sank into the his seat, his head resting on the back of the chair as he sighed softly trying to mull it over. Instead of fighting along side fellow soldiers to kill Nazi's and bring down Germany's armies, he was now fighting alien armies and gods. Instead of leading a group of rag-tag military men, he now had two assassins, a hulk, a god, and a man in a metal suit- an even stranger turn of events to say the least.
The sound of the drunk rolling over on the couch jolted Steve out of his thoughts. Some of the blanket slid off of the brunettes chest, the arc reactor glowing into Stark's eyes making him squint as he stirred. Steve rose from his seat and was about to put the blanket back when he felt Tony's grip on his forearm, his body beginning to convulse.
"Oh no..." was the only thing Steve could say before Tony's eyes flew open and bent over. His mind registered that there was a bucket and began vomiting the contents of his stomach, coughing and sputtering while he still had a grip on the Captain for balance.
Steve just stood there, holding his breath so he didn't get a whiff of the putrid odor of whatever Stark had eaten or drank. He looked away from the contents, stepping away from Tony as the drunk held onto the bucket like his life depended on it. We left to grab a cloth to give to the other man to clean up. Tony took a bleary-eyed look around the room, looking up at the person that helped him, recognizing the familiar face through the drunken haze.
"R-Rogers..." Tony stated, his voice hoarse.
"Hello Mr. Stark." Steve said bluntly. "Fancy finding yourself at my door."
Tony coughed into the bucket, a twisted expression on his face as his mind registered how bad the smell was now inside, making his stomach want to go another round. "Bathroom."
Steve raised an eyebrow, his tone slightly more irritated, "Down the hall, to the right."
Tony began to pull the blanket off of him, realizing that his shirt was gone. "Am I naked?"
"You still have pants on."
"Good. I didn't want to imagine..." he trailed off, going silent.
"And what is that supposed to me-" Steve couldn't ask before Tony was wrapping a hand across his mouth, meaning his stomach wasn't done. "Bathroom. Come on."
The blond quickly grabbed Tony's free arm and placed it behind his neck, lifting as quickly as he could without stirring the man too much. Tony was like a rag doll as he continued to cover his mouth, the bile burning his throat while his stomach continued to do back flips with the remains of its contents. Steve basically was dragging the brunette along since the drunk couldn't get his feet underneath him, flicking the light on and steered the man towards the toilet, letting him go just before he heard something splash into the bowl, making him look away.
"I'll be a minute. Don't pass out and drown on me." Steve mildly commanded, hearing Tony's grunts and groans echo inside the small room as he left.
He proceeded to a small cabinet, grabbing a few things that Stark might need and waited until the dry heaving died down with a few exasperated gasps coming from inside. He took it as his cue to enter when he heard the sound of flushing.
"Stark?" Steve called, looking down at the man now with his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped securely around his legs.
Tony could only muster a grunt, his head rested on his arms as he tried to take deep breathes. His brain was cloudy and he couldn't get a firm grasp of the world around him. He somehow made it to Roger's apartment after a night of binge drinking. How he got there he couldn't remember. Why he was drinking wasn't coming to mind at the moment. Why he even thought of coming to Captain America's place... His mind twitched as he felt something being wrapped around him. He looked up and discovered a towel around his shoulders, the blond calmly placing what looked to be a toothbrush and toothpaste in his palms.
"Come on, get cleaned up. A shower will help. Do me a favor and don't fall in, I won't come in to save you."
Tony gave a nod, wiping his face on his arm while Steve left the bathroom once again, shutting the door behind him. The brunette remained on the floor for a few minutes to get his bearings, pushing aside the questions filling his skull. He pulled himself up, using the sink to balance as he looked into the mirror, seeing the grizzled, disheveled mess that had he had to work with. He washed his hands and face, pushing away some of the tangled mess of his hair and placed a large helping of paste on the toothbrush, making sure to get all the remains of the rancid taste out of his mouth. He focused on the running water, looking up once in awhile to try and stay upright. Whatever he was drinking really threw him for a loop. Right now his body wanted to collapse and he was willing himself not to pass out again.
He needed coffee, and possibly lots of it.
His stomach gave another twinge and he willed it down, spitting and rinsing and slowly made his way to the shower, taking off the remains of his clothing and stumbling inside. His focus got better under the blast of water pressure hitting his skin while he ran his hands through his hair. He tried to figure out the bits and pieces he could remember of his night. Pepper had left for the evening, JARVIS was helping him with calculations on some of the plans for some new suits, he went to bed...
And that's when his nightmares kicked in.
He shuddered violently for a split second. The surgery of the shrapnel in his chest in the Middle East, Obadiah pulling the arc reactor out of his chest to power the Iron Monger, Ivan Vanko's Whiplash and drones nearly destroying himself along with his Expo. The whirl of blades of the helicarrier echoing in his ears nearly slicing him to pieces, the Chitauri army storming the city from the sky, the image of the emptiness of space, letting go of the missile and falling back down to Earth. Multiple times of putting his life on the line flashed across his eyes, making him hold his head and lean against the cool tile, doing his best to get it together while still intoxicated and exhausted. It wasn't easy. His shoulders continue to shake as he did his best to get himself back to his usual nonchalant self, which wasn't really working out since he discovered himself in another persons home.
Again, how and why did it have to be Steve Rogers?
It was clearly noted between them that they never really got along unless there was an imminent threat on the world. Outside of the Avengers team they were polar opposites. Tony Stark had it all. He had money and power many would dream of having. He could have anything or anyone he wanted. He was a billionaire genius who built up his fathers company into something more than just a weapons specialist division to the military. His innovations saved his own life, the arc reactor was a symbol of that. He built his Iron Man suit from top to bottom, right down to the very last screw. He created his superhero status...
...and Steve, was merely a creation. A scientific genetic miracle to engineer the perfect super soldier, recently found buried under frozen tundra in a metal tomb. A great hero, a symbol of hope that had been in the minds of the world for decades, brought back from the dead. If it wasn't for him, the Tony Stark to continue his fathers desperate search to find the man, there wouldn't be a Captain America now. And did he even get a thank you? No. He saved his life and there wasn't a notion of gratitude. It burned him, down to his core.
But why? Tony had met with rejection many times in his life, too many to count. So why was this different? So many questions were riddling his thoughts that he just stood still under the water until it was ice cold, trying to get back to the present. Despite all that had happened he was there now, in Rogers apartment, being taken care of by the man who always seemed to make him aggravated. He turned off the shower, feeling droplets of water run down his skin. His body shivering as he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around himself, stepping out and noticed that there was a small pile of clothing resting by the sink. He lifted a piece and saw a white beater and a pair of grey track pants.
'How considerate.' Tony thought sarcastically, tossing it back down and began to dry off, staggering slightly. 'Still not completely sober...damnit.'
Steve all the while was cleaning up once he left the bathroom. He grabbed Tony a set of clothes he could wear, cracking the door open slightly and set them inside. He didn't see anything, he didn't want to. There was still a sign of life coming from the shower so he let the brunette be. He disposed of the bucket and the small mess left outside his door, sending it down the garbage chute that was at the end of the hall.
He returned and it seemed that the shower had ended, sitting back down and removed the tape from his hands, tossing the pieces in a nearby garbage bin as he waited. He didn't know what he would say to the man, or even if he would talk to him in the first place. Anytime words would be between them it was always in an argument. He looked at the clock once again, noticing that it was getting towards the early morning, making him groan. What should he do? Let Stark leave? No. If he drove here intoxicated he wasn't going to leave until he was sober. Then if he let him stay, it might end up in a fight, maybe a brawl, and possibly damages to his apartment.
The bathroom door opened and everything was quiet. Steve could hear footsteps coming from the hallway back towards where he was sitting. He looked up and saw Stark standing at the entrance wearing the clothes that he prepared, the towel around his neck as he continued drying his hair with one hand and held his pants in the other. The reactor glowed slightly underneath the white fabric. He seemed to be better, not reeking of alcohol or stumbling around like a buffoon. The man looked back at him, trying to maintain a stoic facade. They stayed like that for a few moments, the awkward silence getting so tense you could cut it with a knife. But Tony was getting rather impatient, he hated quiet these days.
"So." Tony started, looking away and taking off the towel. "How are you?"
Steve let out a short chuckle. "That's all you can say?"
"That's all I want to say."
Steve sighed and rose from his seat, giving him a nod. "Fine."
The billionaire threw his arms open, "Fine? That's all? No comeback?"
The blonde moved towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. "It's how I was, Mr. Stark. I was fine. I was enjoying my time by myself. Until..." he reached in and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice, moving to a nearby cabinet and grabbing a glass. "I was interrupted by someone drunk and passed out on my doorstep."
"It's Manhattan, you should be used to it by now." Tony replied, looking at a stack of books that was on the coffee table.
"Yeah, but I never expected one of them to be you." he said, keeping his distance from the other man. "Do you want anything?"
"Yeah, a pot of coffee and a full bottle of pain killers. I'm gonna have a major hangover when this is all over."
"From the alcohol?"
The brunette looked in his direction, "Possibly, or from talking from you- which ever comes first."
'Why does he do that?' Steve paused at the retort, trying not to be angry, "Well, I am all out of both, so you're going to need to make due with what I got. There's water in the tap and you now know where the glasses are."
"What? You can't get it for me?"
"You're not my guest, you came here uninvited."
"And yet I'm wearing your clothes."
"Because the ones you were wearing reek of alcohol. It smelled like you were swimming in whatever that stuff was."
'Point' Tony thought, putting the question of the list of alcohol he consumed, staying focused to the current situation. "Come on, you're standing right there."
There was a slight twitch on the Captain's brow as he slowly moved to grab another glass, filling it with water while he scowled as Stark's attitude was beginning to grate on his nerves. 'Honestly, he argues with me over the littlest things. Insufferable narcissist.'
Tony smirked, crossing his arms. 'Bitter old man.'
Steve turned, setting the glass down on the counter. "There. Come and get it." he moved back towards his seat, sitting down while taking a sip of his drink.
The billionaire sauntered over, grabbing his glass and mockingly bowed. "Thank you sir." he said with a slight British accent before he moved back to the living room, taking his spot back onto the couch and set his water onto the coffee table. "What were you doing up so late? I'm surprised the great 'Captain America' wasn't already be in bed to be up at the crack of dawn."
"Shouldn't I be the one asking the questions, Mr. Stark?"
"Enough with the formalities, Rogers. We're a team now."
"Not right now we're not." Steve stated, his tone cold.
Tony scoffed, "Yowch, you're a tough nut to crack. I guess that comes with age." He took a drink of his water only quickly sputter and sprayed it onto himself, setting the cup down quickly. "This shit is hot!"
"You never specified the temperature." Steve smiled, taking another sip.
Stark could only stare at the Captain, his eyes narrowed slowly. 'Arrogant little...' He grabbed the towel, wiping off the water that was now moving down his neck, patting down the shirt as best he could but it remained damp. He tossed the towel aside, letting out a soft grunt of frustration. Steve could only smirk as he glanced at the other man, rolling his eyes.
Tony caught his gaze, "What, you think this is funny?"
"No, I find it hilarious."
There was another pause between them after that, both men simmering with emotions towards each other. Tony did his best to return to a calmed state, and failing. Steve mused over the joke, which kept him distracted by the obvious annoyance that was Tony Stark. The silence broke again when Steve spoke again.
"So, why and how did you find me?" Rogers asked, leaning forward in his seat.
Tony scoffed. "You weren't that hard to find. The Cyclops has just as many eyes and ears as I do to find everyone. Well, all of us that are still on this planet mind you."
'The Cyclops? Oh, Fury.' Steve thought to himself. He would've chewed out Stark for making fun of authority figures; but, he was getting tired and he was still off the clock. "So, the others?"
"Banner is overseas, Romanov and Barton are on assignment, and Thor is off-world to who knows where." Tony stated, laying back in his seat. "You were my last resort."
"Oh, well thanks for thinking of me." Steve muttered.
"What? Wait, was that...was that sarcasm coming from you?"
"I'm just shocked. I haven't been sitting here five minutes and you've joked and have said something that isn't running of the mouth or barking orders. I'm touched. I'm actually touched."
Steve let out a slow breath, his composure breaking, "Listen, I really don't want to do this right now. It's getting late and I know at least one of us needs to sleep at least a few hours."
"What? You're kicking me out?"
"Are you still drunk?"
"Possibly, I also haven't slept for the last three days."
"Really? You fell asleep on my couch just fine."
"Wait...did I?" he looked down at the couch. 'I did...weird.' He got up from his seat, beginning to grab his things.
"Hold on," Steve said, pointing to Tony. "I didn't say that you had to leave."
"Huh...what?" the brunette blinked, looking at Steve like he had three heads. "But I thought you were kicking me out."
'I can't believe I'm saying this...,' The blond sighed, lowering his hand. "You can spend the rest of the morning on the couch. I'm not letting you drive back to Stark Tower like this."
"Not in this outfit no. But I got here just fine." Tony said flatly, 'Somehow'
"I'm telling you to stay here." Steve ordered. "I wouldn't want the death of Tony Stark on my conscience."
Tony bit down a comment to that remark, letting it go for now. He dropped his things except for his coat, fumbling through its pockets and pulled out a small device that looked to be a cellphone. "Give me a minute, gotta call home to make sure it's okay for me to sleepover."
Steve rolled his eyes, walking down the hall to his bedroom, hearing Stark's voice talking to someone. He turned on the light and walked over to his king sized bed, grabbing a random pillow off the pile that he had. He never expected visitors in his home, or even anyone that was going to be spending the night. And the first one of all people was him. He returned while Tony was still on the phone, noticing that the man was pacing slightly while he was talking, his carefree style shining through.
"Jarvis, are you actually worried about me? Yes, Daddy's going to be fine. If Miss Potts comes to the office tell her that I'm out. No, don't tell her about that, I don't need to hear another speech about my habits. No, I don't want to be hearing it from you either. And don't let DUM-E near the kitchen appliances while I'm gone. There's enough construction and renovation going on that I don't need to add that to the list...yes, Pepper is more than capable of overseeing everything while I'm away for a day."
There was a pause in the conversation, Steve tossing the pillow onto the couch. Tony turned and noticed that the blond had returned, lifting his hand as if to say, 'give me a minute.' Steve shook his head and began to put his punching bag away, setting it down quietly and put his other things away that he had for his weight training while Stark continued on. There was a quiet beep as Tony lowered his hand, looking at what was given to him to sleep with.
"Is this it?" Tony asked, acting surprised. "This is all I'm getting?"
"What, were you expecting a luxury suite? This isn't a hotel Mr. Sta-."
"Stark." Steve said flatly. "Sorry, But I don't usually have company."
"Really? You? With that physique of yours I would've expected-"
"I prefer to be alone. Drop the subject."
"It's late, and I don't wanna talk about it." Steve said, getting on his last nerve. He kept his back to the brunette, trying to stay in check. "Goodnight Mr. Stark."
Tony stood in the living room, not saying a word even when he heard the door shut echoing down the hall. He'd gone too far somehow. He sighed and looked down, touching the arc reactor unconsciously before he slid back down to the couch. At least it was spacious and comfortable. In reality someone could have put two people on here with no problem. He was only joking around, or at least that's what he thought.
He pulled up the sheets, keeping the lights on. They weren't really bright but gave enough light that he could move around the room if he needed to get up and get something. Dawn would be coming soon, but he needed to make sure regardless. He grabbed his phone again, zipping through the many applications until he found his music playlist. He scrolled down until he found a random song to fall asleep to, reducing the volume so he wouldn't be bothering the person down the hall and shut his eyes, hoping that he could sleep like he was before, finally with some peace.
.o~End of Chapter 1~o.
There you go! A very long chapter to what I usually write. Again, please give me feedback! Thank you for reading! :)