Something of Tomorrow, Part 3

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Title: Something of Tomorrow
Parts: 3 / ??
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe / Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony ; Clint/Coulson/Natasha
Rating: pg13
Words: 10 332 words
Prompt: In a world where your soulmate's name appears on your wrist as soon as they are born, Steve's wrist has been blank his whole life. [ original post here ]
Disclaimer: It's not mine. The character belong to Marvel and the studio which produces the movies; I'm just playing in the sandbox. I make nothing from this.

Something of Tomorrow, Part 3
the things of tomorrow, i do not understand
the things of the past are out of my own hands
– Hello, Worker, English lyrics by кran
The sound of traffic was the first thing he heard. Then, the sounds of a radio. A ball game? Steve thought it was. He recognized the plays. He'd been to this game. But that wasn't possible.

Steve opened his eyes to white walls. He glanced around. The room was bare, sparsely furnished. There was a dresser and a mirror with a radio perched on top of it; aside from the dresser, the bed, and a night stand, the room was empty. There wasn't anything that lent the room any personality.

The curtains billowed in a light wind and he could hear the sounds of the street below. But something about that didn't sound right. There was the sound of traffic but he couldn't hear the people.

The entire place felt wrong.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. Dimly, he noted that he was dressed in a t-shirt and loose fitting slacks; his uniform was nowhere to be seen. Point in fact, Steve couldn't see any of his possessions anywhere.

When he glanced down, he noticed something. There was what looked like a black smudge on his wrist. His breath caught in his throat.

Shaking, he raised it, tilted it so that he could see it.

There, written in an elegant, curving script and shining black ink was a name. Steve held his breath, almost unable to believe that it was actually there but it was.

Anthony Stark.

Steve raised a trembling hand to touch it. The skin felt smooth under his fingers as he traced the name. He almost couldn't believe it. There was a name on his wrist. He had a soul-mate. He wouldn't be alone.

The thought that something – possibly everything – had changed was still there, but it was a little easier to think about. But Steve knew everything was different. When he'd gone down there hadn't been a name on his wrist, but now there was. What else had changed?

He was so wrapped up in the thoughts of his soul-mate – What's he like? Will he like me? How long have I kept him waiting? – that he almost didn't notice the young woman stepping into the room.

Steve looked up at her, unconsciously covering his wrist with a hand. She had a pleasant if not a bit bland smile on her face, crisp clothes, and very dark hair that fell around her face in soft waves. But her shoulders were tense and the way she looked at him and straightened the watch on her wrist made it clear that she was uncomfortable.

“Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?” Her laugh was fake and grated on his ears just a little.

Roars of cheers came from the radio along with an excited announcement. Steve glanced at it for a second before looking back to her.

“Where am I?”

“You're in a recovery room in New York City.” Her response was too punctual, too smooth. It sounded rehearsed.

Steve frowned, “Where am I really?”

Her smile slipped a little and she blinked, eyes wide. “I'm sorry. I don't understand.”

“Where am I?” Steve stood up, noting that she looked a little scared as he did. “What year is it?”

“I don't understand.” Her smile was faltering and she kept nervously glancing behind her. “Captain Rogers, please–”

“I know the game. I was there. Where am I? What year is it?” Please tell me I'm not too late.

There was a sharp-edged shard of fear lodged deep inside of his chest. It dug into his heart and lungs with each breath. He had so many unanswered questions and worries. What had happened to him? How was he still alive? How much time had passed since he went down?

She looked uncomfortable now; this conversation probably hadn't gone down the way she'd rehearsed. Her posture was stiff, unyielding. She didn't back down when Steve stood up.

Two men stormed into the room, both of them kitted out in body armour – although it wasn't body armour that Steve had ever seen before – and military uniform. Their stern expressions said that they meant business; clearly they weren't there to answer his questions.

Well then, he'd just have to find those answers on his own.

Steve grabbed one of the men by his extended arms, using his own momentum to flip him over Steve's shoulder. That sent him flying into the wall which gave out completely from the force, revealing a barren room outside that resembled the back-stage area of the USO shows.

He only stopped to acknowledge that for a half-second before pivoting on his heel and landing a punch right in the centre of the other man's chest, sending him flying back into the dresser.

Climbing over the man who had knocked out a hole in the wall, Steve kicked out a little more of it. The room – set? – hadn't been built incredibly well and Steve stumbled out onto cool concrete. A quick look around revealed that there were no windows and that the one on the set had a backdrop to provide a view of the city.

Two double doors led out somewhere and Steve made a beeline for them. Steve made a beeline for them, throwing them open and charging out into a hall full of people in crisp suits.

They all turned to look at him, some of them looking confused and others with looks of dawning comprehension on their faces. Somewhere overhead, he could hear someone over an intercom.

He ran.

Everything was a blur after that. He left the building, out onto the streets and this was New York. The buildings he knew but they didn't look the same. There were bright lights everywhere and people dressed in ways he'd never seen before. The cars in the street – which he had just run into – were all sleek lines and nothing like what he knew.

What had happened? How long – just how long had he been gone?

Steve kept running.

Times Square was all bright lights and moving images in colour. There were bright advertisements for shows everywhere and people were milling about and staring at him with wide eyes. Steve stopped. He couldn't believe this.

Cars were screeching to a stop and men in suits were streaming out, forming a perimeter around Steve and turning people away.

“At ease, soldier.” A tall man stepped forwards, hands behind his back. One of his eyes was covered by a patch and he just radiated command.

Steve just stared.

The man continued, “Sorry about that little charade back there, but we thought it would be best if we broke it to you slowly.”

“Broke what?”

The man inclined his head a little, “You've been asleep, Captain. For almost seventy years.”

– – –
After the incident in Times Square, Steve got a much more in-depth briefing of where he was. He was in New York City and it was 2011. Steve hadn't had much of a chance to get a word in edgewise; the man who'd spoken to him in Times Square introduced himself as Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD.

“... sprung up after the war. Two of our founding members were Howard Stark and an Agent Carter, who was the first director as well. 'Course, they're both gone now but we're still around. We're still needed. And so are you.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Steve replied. He glanced at his wrist and the name there. Nearly seventy years had gone by; there was no guarantee that his soul-mate was even still alive. An entire life could have played out while he lay sleeping in the ice.

Something told him that wasn't the case, but Steve was practical. He knew there was a chance that, even though Anthony Stark's name was on his wrist, he was too late. But he tried to be positive.

Fury smiled, a mere quirk of the corner of his lips, “I wouldn't be so sure about that; the world's changed a lot since you went down, Captain. We'll have to get you caught up to speed.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“Agent Barton!” Fury barked, making Steve start. He'd thought that this room was sound-proof.

There was a flurry of swearing from overhead and then the vent in the ceiling clattered to the ground, followed by a man who landed in a rather undignified heap. He climbed to his feet, shooting Fury a dirty look as he did.

He was only a few inches shorter than Steve was and maybe a couple years older. He had the look of a soldier.

“Sir,” he greeted tersely.

“Since Agent Barton is apparently so anxious to meet you, Captain, he'll be in charge of getting you up to speed. If you have any questions, you can ask him.” Fury definitely looked amused, especially because Barton looked rather irritated about the arrangement. “Now, play nice.”

And with that, Fury strode out of the room with a definite spring in his step. Barton watched him go with a scowl on his face. Then he turned to Steve.

“C'mon, let's go.”

“... alright.”

Barton slouched in on himself a little as they left the room, Steve trailing just a little ways behind him. The SHIELD base was rather sparse in terms of decoration, making Barton the most interesting thing to look at. But staring seemed a little awkward, not to mention inappropriate.

It wasn't until they were winding their way down into the lobby that Steve thought to ask, “Where are we going?”

“Out. There's a really good little Italian place about a block from here, you hungry?” Barton explained. He still sounded a little gruff but not as confrontational as he had when Fury was in the room.

“Yes,” Steve replied, a little confused. “Am I even allowed off base?”

“If you weren't, Fury wouldn't've asked me to show you around. He's only doing this cause I messed up back there; he wasn't supposed to know I was in the ceiling.”

“Do you do that often? Hide in the ceiling, I mean.”

Barton pushed the doors open leading into the streets and turned left, Steve falling into step beside him.

“Yeah, I'm not as good as 'Tasha, though. If I was her, you wouldn't know I was even there. 'Course, that means she gets all the fun assignments. Phil's gonna be jealous though.”

His voice was fond as he talked about them and he even smiled – which lit up his entire face and made him look much younger – when he made that last quip. Obviously they were close.

“Why?”

That made Barton laugh and his smile turned to a grin, “Not gonna lie, Cap, you're kind of a big deal. Phil hasn't been able to talk about much else since they found you in the ice.”

“Oh...”

“Y'know, I was kind of expecting that you'd be a little more talkative. Like, I dunno, got any questions?”

“Do you know an Anthony Stark?”

The words were out of Steve's mouth before he could think them through. He knew he was turning red, but he'd been wanting to ask since he'd seen the name. Now just seemed like the best time.

“You mean Tony Stark? Yeah, I do. Kind of. Except not really. Everyone kind of knows who he is.” Barton was giving him a funny look, “Why?”

Steve was bright red, “I, um, well, that's... kind of a long story.”

“Spill.”

Unable to figure out a way to tell Barton, Steve just wordlessly held out his wrist. Barton glanced at it, once, then did a double-take.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steve smiled, just a little, “Afraid not.”

“Well, huh that changes a lot of things. Gonna talk to Fury about it?”

“I don't know. I'd rather find him first, you know? I haven't even met him yet.” Steve dropped his voice and his wrist, “I don't even know if he'll want me.”

Barton recovered from whatever shock it was he'd experienced in the last minute. By that time they were already pushing the doors open to the restaurant. A short, bright-eyed brunette woman rushed forward to greet them.

“Clint! How are you?” Her voice was a little breathy, but she was smiling widely at them. “How are Phil and Natasha doing?”

“I'm good, Felicity, and they're working but last I heard they're doing good. Can I get a table somewhere private? And, uh, this is Steve. He's new.”

Felicity smiled and nodded, “Of course, follow me.”

She grabbed a couple of menus and led them through the restaurant, which was fairly busy and crammed with a number of people, to a booth near the back. Once they were seated, she grinned at them and handed them their menus, “Your server will be with you shortly. Tell Natasha and Phil I said hello.”

“Will do. Tell Harry I said hi.”

Once they were alone, Barton grabbed Steve's menu and pulled it down so that he could look Steve in the eye, “Don't go selling yourself short there, Cap. Pretty sure Tony will be thrilled to meet you.”

“You really think so?”

Barton shrugged, “You're kind of: a) a national hero these days; b) a legend and hey, now you're a living legend which is even better; and c) you're really not hard on the eyes.”

Steve flushed, “What's he like?”

“Not sure, never met him. You could ask Phil when he gets back and he gets over his heroworship and fanboying of you, but I get the feeling that he'd probably not give you an unbiased account of Tony Stark's personality.”

“Is he related to Howard Stark?”

“His son.”

Steve nodded. He'd had his suspicions – Stark wasn't a very common last name – but it felt a little bit awkward to think about the fact that his soul-mate was probably the son of his best friend's lover. So much had changed and it felt as though he'd just closed his eyes for a moment and everything had changed. He was, technically, well over ninety now, if he counted the years since he was born.

“The Stark Expo's been all over the news lately; he started it up again. 'Till now, there hasn't been an Expo since the '70s, I think.”

“I went to the one in '43, it was pretty interesting.”

Their waitress made her entrance then, an older woman who looked about Steve's age. She smiled at the both of them, “Can I get you two anything to drink?”

Steve hastily glanced at the menu, “Um, Coke is fine.”

Barton shrugged, “I'll have the same.”

“Alright, two Cokes. Have you decided on what you'd like to order to start with or would you like some more time?”

Neither of them had even looked at the menu, but Barton came here a lot so he probably knew what was good.

Barton smiled at the waitress, “A little more time would be nice.”

She nodded, “I'll be back in a few minutes then.”

“If you want, I can pull up Stark's file when we get back to base. Or I can just show you how to use the Internet – which is amazing, by the way, you'll love it – and you can pull up whatever you want on him.” Barton frowned for a moment, “Though, I'd take a lot of what's said about him with a grain of salt.”

“They don't like him?”

Barton shrugged, leaned forward conspiratorially, “Stark's a public figure. If they're not building you up then they're tearing you down. He's not in town right now, but he's got a penthouse here. I'll call Phil, see if he knows what's up. Maybe we can get you a meeting.”

“Oh, that would be great!” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, uh, no problem, Cap.” Barton seemed a little taken aback.

“You can call me Steve, Agent Barton.”

“Clint.”

“Alright, Clint. What's good to order?”

The two of them fell into comfortable conversation after that. They stopped to order their food and lingered for quite a while at the table. Clint explained some of the major events that had happened since Steve had gone under and about what was going on in the world at the moment. He didn't know all the details, but he promised that he'd show Steve how to use a computer when they got back and that would help.

“I'm not the techy kind of guy,” Clint said. “Fury should've asked someone else, I don't really get how much of it works. But, uh, the internet's really cool. You've got all this information and you can access it instantly. Just type in what you want and it'll pull it up.”

“Really? That's impressive.”

“Well, yeah, we've come a long way in seventy years.” Clint grinned, leaning back and stretching. “Oh yeah, we'll probably have to get you something else to wear just so you don't stand out.”

Steve glanced down; he was still in the slacks and shirt that he'd been wearing when he woke up. The only thing he'd been given after was a new pair of shoes and some socks.

“S'not a big deal. We can do it some other time. Probably should ask Tasha, she's better at this fashion stuff than I am.”

“What's she like?”

“Tasha?”

Steve nodded, “She's your girl, right? Tell me about her.”

“Gorgeous, strong – she could take me down in minutes – and deadly. She might look like this delicate little thing, but Tasha will take you down easily. Though, she and I think that Phil's probably the most deadly; you don't know when he's gonna strike.”

Clint was fiddling with the napkins, which was when Steve spotted the names on his wrist. It took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't just one name like he'd originally thought, but two. They were entwined together, making them look like just the one, but they took up too much space to just be a single name.

“Is that–”

“What? Oh, it's nothing.” Clint drew his arm back towards himself protectively. “I, um.”

“You have two soul-mates?” There was no judgment in Steve's voice, just curiosity. “Wow, that's – you're so lucky.”

Clint looked at him, nervous, “Really?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you don't just have one person but two. You... you won't ever have to be alone.”

He thought back to those years growing up, thinking that there was something wrong with him because he didn't have a name on his wrist. Those times where he'd just lie awake and wish, hope, that one day there would be someone out there who would love him, would fill that aching hole inside of him. Clint was luckier than he probably knew.

Clint was still looking at him a little dubiously, “I guess so... you don't think there's something wrong with it? This is kind of unusual, I mean.”

“Well, yeah it's kind of unusual – I hadn't heard about bonds between more than two people before – but there's nothing wrong with it. So long as you're all happy, then it doesn't matter what sort of bond it is.”

Clint stared at him for several long moments before he spoke again.

“You need to stop being so fucking perfect.”

– – –
The internet was amazing. Steve couldn't get over the fact that anything and everything he could ever possibly want to know was right at his fingertips.

Clint showed him the basics and he picked the rest up from there. He spent several hours digging through old archives looking for any trace of his old comrades. He found marriage records – unsurprising – and death records.

Philips had passed away in the '60s after a long career in the army and in the government. The others had all passed in the '90s or the '00s; Falsworth had been killed in a car accident in '85 along with his wife. All of them were survived by children and grandchildren; they'd all lived out their lives.

He was proud of them; proud and a little bit sad. It really hit home in that moment, when he was looking at the obituary for Dugan, that he was alone. Everyone he had known was gone.

He looked up Sharon.

There were a couple of newspaper articles, an announcement of her marriage to a Steven Rogers of Winnipeg, an announcement a year later of the birth of their first child, a son named Grant. He found a further two birth announcements – this time for a daughter and another son – before he came across her obituary.

'Sharon Evans Rogers, born 17 June 1917, passed away on 6 September 1994. Mrs. Rogers is predeceased by her husband, Steven, and survived by her three children, Grant, Matilda, and Christopher, seven grandchildren, and a great granddaughter. Mrs. Rogers was a happy homemaker and an active member in the community; she moved to Winnipeg in 1950 from New York and met her husband. The two of them were married in January 1951.'

There were details for the funeral and burial after that. Steve just stared and smiled a little sadly. She'd gotten her happy ending; the ending that she more than deserved.

Peggy's records were a little more spotty. There was no marriage record there, unsurprising but he found an obituary dated October 2002. At least she'd lived a long life, Fury said that she'd been the first Director of SHIELD and he could believe it. If anyone could take the world by storm, it was her.

It took Steve a few more days of just soaking in the idea that everyone he knew was gone before he took a deep breath, sat down at the terminal that Clint had showed him, and typed in two words.

Anthony Stark.

He got more results than he knew what to do with.

Newspaper articles, journals, images, Stark Industries main page, and multiple entries on what Clint called blogs but Steve still wasn't sure what they were exactly. He clicked on the Stark Industries main page, checked out the biography there. It was probably sanitized, sure, and left out a number of details but there was a picture.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath.

Even though it was just a picture, the charisma was definitely there. Tony Stark had his father's charisma and hair, but his eyes were a breath-taking shade of hazel. He looked older – the biography said he was thirty-seven – but he was still the most beautiful person Steve had ever seen; it didn't matter to him that Tony was older.

There was an announcement for the Stark World Expo too. Steve clicked on that, looked at the dates. It was probably his best chance.

He was walking back from the shooting range with Clint a few days later when he told Clint what his plan was.

“I'm thinking about going to the Stark Expo, maybe I'll be able to meet Tony there. Or at least meet someone who can help.”

“Huh, you'll want Virginia Potts. She's taken over his company, used to be his personal assistant. If anyone can help you meet Tony Stark, it would be her.”

“And she'll be there?”

“She's the current CEO of Stark Industries, yeah she's gonna be there.” Clint tipped his head back, “Though you're probably gonna have to explain the whole chilling in the Arctic for seventy years thing. Maybe spring it on her that you're Captain America. That might help.”

“I'll figure something out,” Steve said. “I've still got a couple of days.”

Clint slapped him on the shoulder, “Well, you're on your own. I'm shipping out tomorrow with Phil for New Mexico. Something came up and SHIELD's interested so...”

Steve grinned, “Take care and good luck.”

“Right back at you.”

– – –
Tony dragged the case down to his workshop and dropped it on the floor and sighed. It looked a hell of a lot lighter than it actually was. His father's name was stamped across the front along with SHIELD's logo.

After staring at the case for several minutes, Tony grumbled and forced the locks, opening the lid.

Half of the case was taken up by a very old, battered looking suitcase. The edges were worn and peeling quite a bit and the latches that kept it closed were worn. Besides that, it looked rather ordinary – it didn't look like anything Howard would have owned.

After a few minutes of just staring, curiosity got the better of Tony and he pulled it out of the case and set it on the floor before he flipped open the latches and opened it.

Folded up neatly was an old army dress uniform, medals laid neatly out on top. The fabric smelled just a little musty, but otherwise it was in perfect condition. There was also a stack of letters and postcards, tied up with string to keep them in place, and a few journals that looked a little water-stained and dog-eared.

A couple of photographs had been pinned to the lid of the suitcase, all of them of the same grinning young man with dark hair.

Pride in place, tucked in safely, was a framed photograph.

Tony gently lifted it out of the case, taking in the smiling faces. It was a black-and-white photo, but he could identify his father with ease. Howard was off to one side of the tall, smiling blond in the middle – and just looking at him made Tony's heart flutter a little in his chest – and Howard had an arm slung around the waist of the same grinning dark-haired man from the other photographs.

There were others in the shot with them, but Tony found himself unable to look away from the three men in the middle. He couldn't ever remember seeing his father look so happy, so carefree, so young. The young man who he was holding had his arm around Howard's shoulders and although the grin looked a little bit crooked, it also looked happy.

But the blond next to them smiling out of the camera... Tony couldn't look away. Even though there was no colour, he easily filled in the red, white, and blue of the uniform.

Captain America.

Tony shook his head and shoved the photo aside. It didn't matter. His heart could flutter all it wanted and he could smile all he liked at the thought, but that would never make it true. He was long dead – dead before Tony had even been conceived – and he was never coming back. Tony was alone.

It took Tony a few seconds to realize that underneath the photo, separate from the other letters, there was an envelope. It was simply addressed to Howard Stark in the neat, even script of a typewriter; the edges were slightly yellowed. Tony flipped it over; the seal had never been broken. He ripped it open.

Inside was a neatly typed up letter from the S.S.R and their commander, a Colonel Phillips.

Dear Sir,

I regret very much to inform you of the death of Sergeant James Barnes who was killed in action on the 23rd of this month.

Sergeant Barnes and his company were taking part in an operation against HYDRA in the Alps. He was killed after defending Captain Rogers from a surprise attack during the course of the operation. Unfortunately his remains could not be recovered due to the precarious location of where he was killed.

Myself, along with his C.O. Captain Rogers, and his company deeply sympathize with you and your loss. Sergeant Barnes was a great man and a good friend to many in his company and his loss is deeply felt. He gave his life in service to his country and will be honored as such. We hope that you will take some consolation in this.

His effects will be sent to you shortly.

In true sympathy,
Chester Philips
Colonel

PS. Captain Rogers wishes to express his sympathies and apologize for, and I quote, “failing to bring Bucky back home with him.”

He tossed the letter back into the suitcase. So what if his father had an affair during the War? What did it matter? Howard Stark had never loved his wife and son. It didn't matter if Tony didn't know him at all.

Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to go through all of the old letters and photographs. He didn't want to keep dredging up images of a father and a man he never knew; it was so much easier to just go on hating Howard when he wasn't so human.

The photograph, though, he picked up again. Captain America looked so happy in it, like the one already had. He looked like a soldier, but there was a strength to him that Tony found both appealing and attractive. It wasn't fair that his father had gotten to know that strength and he hadn't.

He thought back to the letter. Captain Rogers was probably Captain America. His identity wasn't known, but going by the pictures and the letter, that was probably the case. Captain Steven Rogers. Tony wondered how different he'd be from the Captain America that he knew from his comics from the stories that were still being told today.

But that was stupid and unimportant. He shoved the thought aside just as he shoved the picture aside. Captain Steven Rogers was dead. There was no way around that. He needed to stop dreaming about the could have beens and think about the future.

True, he was dying. But Fury seemed to think that there was a way to stop that. And there was something else too, something that Fury wasn't saying. Tony was valuable to them, sure, because of the armour. But they had Rhodes, so he didn't even fully have that anymore.

Which left the question: Could he ever face Captain Steven Rogers – the man who had given his life for his country – now? If he just gave up, would he be disappointed in him?

Probably, that treacherous little voice in the back of his head murmured. He didn't give up. Why should you?

That pretty much answered it. Tony sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

– – –
The drones Steve hadn't expected when he'd first arrived at the Expo. But by the time that he'd managed to push his way through the crowd and bypassed security, the majority of them were downed and inactive. He still felt wary; he'd dealt with more enough Hydra tech to just assume that they were completely harmless.

Eying them with trepidation, he stepped around one of them and jogged up the steps towards the redhead standing at the top of them. She'd spotted him before he made it up the stairs and was walking towards him, purpose in her step and looking more than a little harried.

“I'm sorry, but we're evacuating the grounds right now and you really shouldn't be here. Why are you here?”

“Are you Miss Potts?

“I – yes, I am.” She blinked, “Answer the question, please.”

Steve took a deep breath, he'd practised this. He could do this.

“I was hoping that you could introduce me to Mr. Stark.” Steve smiled at her, trying to be as sincere as possible. She was still a pretty lady, though, and that was making his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. “I, uh, I'm Steve Rogers.”

She stared at him for several long moments, “You're joking.”

“Ma'am, I wouldn't joke about this.” Steve took a deep breath, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt and holding out his wrist for her inspection. “I'm looking for him.”

She stepped over, took his wrist and ran her fingers over the name there.

Then she slapped him.

Well he hadn't expected that. It hadn't hurt, but it was still kind of shocking.

“Where the hell have you been?!” she snapped. “I looked everywhere for you, hoping that maybe – just maybe – you'd be able to pull him back together and you only now show up?! You better have a damn good explanation for this.”

“I, uh,” Steve flushed just a little. “This is going to sound unbelievable but it's the truth, I swear. I kind of was frozen somewhere in the Arctic Circle.”

She stared.

“I was frozen there since 1944,” Steve added, as though that would help.

“You – you what? How?!”

Steve opened his mouth to explain but a soft click followed by a mechanical beep interrupted him. He glanced back at one of the drones behind them, which was giving off that beeping along with a little flashing red light.

He turned back to her and motioned picking her up, “May I? We'll be able to move faster.”

She was looking at the drone, but snapped her attention back to Steve when he spoke, “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Knocking her knees out from under her, she wrapped her arms around his neck as Steve picked her up and cradled her to his chest. She wasn't heavy, Steve noted, holding her tight against him. Then he started running, pouring in every bit of speed he had in him.

She let out a small squeak as he ran – it was probably faster than anything she was used to – there was a building not too far; they only needed to get far enough away to find shelter. The first explosion rocked the ground, Steve only noted it, ducking behind one of the huge, decorative stone pillars.

Several more explosions could be heard, but Steve could see the edge of the expo grounds. One simple vault over the low stonework fence and they were in the clear.

“Are you alright? Miss Potts?” Steve gently set her down on her feet, catching her before she could fall because her knees were shaking so badly. He helped her over to sit down on the stone fence. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no. You don't have to apologize. I just – I can't take this. All this stress. And oh god, how did we get here so quickly? What's going on?!”

“I'm a fast runner,” Steve said with a small smile. “And I think you probably have a better idea of what just happened then I do.”

She shook her head, “No, I meant how are you here? If what you're saying is true – and I'm not saying it is – you should be dead because the human body isn't meant to be frozen and then unthawed. It just doesn't work like that.”

Steve offered her a weak smile, “I don't really understand all the science myself, but the doctors and scientists said that it's got something to do with the serum Doctor Erskine used on me. Something about my body going dormant when exposed to low enough temperatures.”

She was staring at him like he'd completely lost it. Steve wasn't sure what to say.

“So, wait, you're saying that you're from the '40s and your name is Steve Rogers and that you're Tony's soul-mate and somehow you got frozen and now you're here.”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Pepper!”

Steve looked up in time to catch a red and gold blur just as it slammed into the ground nearby. It stood up, revealing that it was a suit of armour. He did a double-take because he recognized it and his heart had suddenly jumped up into his throat.

The helmet was shorting out, shooting sparks into the night, and the man in the suit reached up and ripped it off, tossing it carelessly aside as he rushed forwards.

“Pepper, Pep, are you alright? Sorry I wasn't there quick enough. Are you alright? You're not hurt are you? Because if you are Happy is going to kill me and I'd rather not die just yet because I nearly died already and–”

“Tony, Tony I'm fine, don't worry about it and you are an ass. You hear me? You are an ass. You didn't say you were dying! I only just found out!”

Steve watched, heart still in his throat and palms sweating. They were both talking quickly, but he picked up enough to get the gist of the conversation. His heart plummeted in the same instance that he found his voice.

“You're dying?”

“Well, I was but now I'm not and – who are you?” He'd only warranted a quick glance from Tony at first, but his eyes had snapped back pretty quickly after he noticed Steve.

Steve's heart was back in his throat. It was hard to concentrate on what he'd rehearsed when Tony was looking at him like that, so many emotions in his eyes and Steve just wanted to sweep him into his arms and hold him close while telling him he'd never let him go, and he looked even more beautiful than he had in the photographs.

He took a deep breath, nervously shuffled his feet, before stepping forward, “I'm Steve Rogers. I... I think you've been waiting for me.”

For several very long, very painful seconds, no one said anything. No one moved.

That didn't last for long because Steve, quite suddenly, had an armful of armour and Tony. Before he could say anything – well, actually he tried to say something but it wound up being muffled because Tony was kissing him hard.

At the moment that their lips touched, a spark shot down Steve's spine and he knew. He just knew that yes, this was his soul-mate and this was perfect. This was where he was supposed to be.

He tilted his head and softened the kiss. Tony's mouth was warm and wet and soft against his, but Steve could practically taste the desperation, love, elation, and passion on his lips. The kiss didn't last long, but it still left Steve feeling breathless and a little off-centre.

Tony was babbling, “Oh my god it's actually you. There's no way – but it is – you look exactly the same how but you're here.”

Gently, almost afraid that he'd spook Tony, he cupped his face with one hand and smiled, “I'm here. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

Tony's hands were strong and heavy on Steve's hips, he kept murmuring, “You're here... I can't believe it, you're actually here.”

“Um, Tony?” Pepper interrupted. The two of them started and turned to look at her. “Care to explain what's going on?”

“He's coming home with me!” Tony blurted out.

She was giving them both a hard look, but then sighed. “Alright, fine, head home. Get some rest, Tony. You,” she pointed at Steve, “You have some explaining to do.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Pepper smiled then, “Alright, go. I'll handle the press. We'll talk in the morning. Tony? Don't do anything stupid.”

With that, she strode away from them towards the entrance of the expo grounds where there was a large congregation of police and reporters. Even though she still looked a little shaken, she pulled herself together quickly enough.

Once she was gone, Tony turned back to him with a silly smile on his face.

“You are coming back with me, right?”

Steve smiled, “Um, yeah. If that's alright...?”

“More than alright! It's kind of a good thing you're here instead of back in Malibu because I kind of destroyed the mansion there and it's a bit of a long story but I'll tell you all about it later and I really hope you don't mind sharing a bed because I really don't want to sleep alone tonight because I'm afraid that if I close my eyes and wake up this is all going to be a dream.”

“It's not a dream – I'm not a dream,” Steve said, leaning in just enough to kiss Tony's cheek. He knew he was blushing when he pulled away and added, “And... and I don't mind sharing a bed with you.”

“Oh good because that means I don't have to worry about losing you and please tell me that's not all you've got with you.” Tony gestured at Steve as he spoke, “But seriously you're really attractive, has anyone told you that? Because you are and I'm still not sure I believe that you're actually here and I'm starting to think I need to shut up so you should kiss me again before I say something really stupid.”

Steve smiled, cupping Tony's face with both of his hands and kissing him softly. He pulled away before Tony could deepen the kiss, grinning when Tony leaned forward, trying to kiss him again. He brushed back some of Tony's hair from his face.

“I like listening to you talk.” He stepped back, “And hang on; I'll be right back.”

It was a quick trip back to the entrance of the expo and back. He hadn't been able to bring the overnight bag he'd packed – and, really, he didn't have much besides his shield – into the grounds because of all the security, so he'd stashed it in one of the many lockers that they had on site for just such purposes. Tony, of course, was right where he left him and looking like a little lost duckling.

It was both the most adorable and the most heart-wrenching sight Steve had ever seen.

“Hey,” Steve gently nudged him. The armour's paint was scratched up and there were a few dents and scratches from what was probably a fight. “You ready?”

“Uh yeah, okay, sure. How'd you get here?”

“I walked and took the subway.”

Tony stared, blinked, and then shook his head. “You know what, I'm just going to call Happy to pick us up and we are going to go home and then sleep.”

“Eat dinner and then sleep,” Steve corrected. He smiled when Tony gave him a look, “You need to eat, Tony.”

“Fine, fine, I'll eat. Wait, when was the last time I ate? I think that was a couple days ago, maybe? I dunno, I've been busy and don't look at me like that I was trying to keep myself from dying.”

Steve felt his heart drop at that, “So you were actually dying.”

“Well, yes, but I'm not anymore so you don't have to worry about that and can we talk about this later because it's kind of awkward and it's kind of a long story and this is really not a good time to be talking about this so how about I call Happy and we go home and talk about it there?”

Steve sighed and nodded, “Alright.”

As it turned out, Tony didn't actually have to make the call because a man jogged over to them, looking out of breath and bruised.

“Happy!” Tony grinned. “You saved me from having to make the call for a pick-up! How'd it go at Hammer with Agent Romanoff?”

“Sir,” Happy greeted, he glanced at Steve. “You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, I know, I feel better too. Guess what? Look who I found!” He grabbed Steve's arm and tugged him forward. “Steve this is Happy Hogan, Happy this is Steve Rogers. Look at him! He's perfect!”

Steve held out a hand, “Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, right back at you...” Happy was looking at Tony, confused, but he distractedly took Steve's hand and shook it. “Tony, are you–”

“Sure? Of course I'm sure, he's got my name and everything and there's this funny little electric current that goes through my skin whenever he touches me so yeah, I'm sure.”

He knew what Tony was talking about, that little thrill under his skin whenever he touched Tony's skin or the shock down his spine when he'd kissed him. Hearing Tony say it made it all the more real.

Happy gave them both one more look before he nodded, “Alright then, the car is this way.”

He led them down an alley and out onto a street where a car was waiting for them. The boots of Tony's suit made little clacking noises as he walked and the joints whirred. And the entire short walk, he kept one armoured hand around Steve's arm.

Tony started talking again once they were in the car, “I had to reinforce all my cars cause they can't really take the weight of the suit otherwise without it dragging on th road. I had to up the suspension and weight-bearing capabilities since the suit weighs somewhere around three-hundred pounds which is a lot when you think about it.”

Carefully, Steve ran his hands over the arm of the suit, tracing the lines of the armour. “It's all very impressive. I wish I could've seen it in action.”

“Really? Huh, well, when I've fixed it up and it's all clean and I've got the helmet working against because those drones really did a number on it I'll take you out for a flight and show you what it can do.”

“I'd like that,” Steve said. “I'd like that a lot.”

Tony smiled and it was a beautiful, breath-taking, genuine smile. True, Steve thought, there was still something dark lingering in Tony's eyes, but it wasn't as obvious as it had been. He'd erase that; one day he would be able to look at Tony and not see any traces of harm that his absence had done to him.

Despite how awkward it was, Tony managed to cuddle up to Steve's side. The armour dug into his side a little but Steve didn't mind. Instead, he raised a hand and stroked Tony's hair, which was sticking up at odd angles from the helmet.

Steve caught Happy's eye in the rear view mirror and Happy smiled. Clearly he cared about Tony a great deal.

The drive was a relatively quick one through the winding streets of New York. Eventually they pulled up in front of an extremely high-end and modern looking building. It was all sleek glass straight up, although Steve could make out a few balconies set into the building at higher levels. He didn't have long to admire it, though, because Tony was pulling him out of the car and into the building before cramming him into the elevator.

“I own the whole building but I usually just use the penthouse; there's a couple of other Stark Industries executives here and Pep and Happy have a place too. There's a workshop up there and I can get out of this,” he gestured at the suit, “and there's a kitchen, unless you'd rather order something in.”

Steve frowned, “Um, I'm not sure. Unless there's something I can make, then there's not much that I can do.”

Tony nodded, more to himself than Steve. “Alright, order in it is. Got anything in particular you'd like?”

“So long as you eat something, I don't really care.”

“Alright then. Wonder if that Chinese place is still open...”

Steve smiled, saying nothing as Tony rambled on about the different foodstuffs that the place he was talking about offered. Having never had Chinese before, Steve was just a little hesitant to try it, but if it made Tony happy and so long as he ate it didn't really matter. There was an unfamiliar, but very welcome, feeling of contentment radiating outwards from his heart.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his mother and her words from so many years ago, and thanked her for telling him that he never should have given up hope.

“... are you even listening to me? You're not; am I boring you?” Tony was looking at him with wide eyes, making him look more than a little bit startled. There was also a spark of such self-conscious panic lurking in his eyes that Steve felt a sharp stab of guilt in his gut.

“No, I just – I don't really understand much of what you're saying,” Steve replied, feeling just a little sheepish. “I, um, haven't been awake very long.”

Tony stared at him for a few seconds, “Wait a minute, you've never had Chinese before? You're seriously missing out. What have you been eating the past – how long have you been not wherever you were? Please tell me you haven't been eating garbage.”

“No, I haven't and no, I haven't been eating garbage, that wouldn't be very healthy.” Steve shuffled his feet a little nervously before blurting it out, “I was frozen, Tony, somewhere in the Arctic circle since 1944.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm not,” Steve replied as the elevator pinged to a stop and they stepped out of it into the penthouse. “I went down in 1944; I didn't expect to wake up here, find out that seventy years had passed, and that there was someone who was waiting for me.”

There was a pained, tight look to Tony's eyes when Steve looked up to meet them. He wanted to ask after it, wanted to make it go away, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared; covered up with a grin.

“Then we'll just have to order everything on the menu, won't we? Find out what you like.” Tony's grin turned a little more mischievous, “But first I'm going to need your help with something.”

“With what?”

“Help me get out of the armour? Normally there's a quick release but it got damaged in the fight and I'm gonna have to fix all of this anyway and if you just pull on certain parts of it, it should come off fairly easily.”

Steve bit his lip and looked the armour up and down, “I'm not going to break anything, am I?”

“I can fix it, don't worry about it. Just... help?”

Steve was pretty sure that Tony was attempting to use what Clint called 'puppy eyes' on him and he could see where they got the name from. Whatever purpose they were meant to accomplish, Steve wasn't sure, but he thought that Tony's hazel eyes were very mesmerizing; he certainly couldn't look away. He just smiled and shook his head.

“Alright, tell me what to do.”

For all Tony's talk about the quick release of the armour being broken, the armour came apart fairly easily. Steve just had to apply enough pressure to pull the various parts and then whatever mechanisms held it in place released. The armour wasn't particularly heavy and soon there was a fairly large pile of parts.

Once he was out of the suit except for the boots, Tony reached down and pulled something which let him step out of the boots easily. He clapped his hands together, grinning a little self-consciously. That tight, pained look was back again.

Tony, out of the suit, was several inches shorter than Steve was; but he was still himself – dark-haired, bright hazel eyes, charisma and handsome features. There was muscle too, that Steve could see under the tight fighting clothes Tony wore under the armour.

“So, do you want dinner or not?”

Despite the light tone of his voice and the grin on his lips, there was still a tight, pained set to Tony's eyes. Along with that, there was a tense set to his shoulders. His entire posture screamed anxiety.

There was something pooling low in his stomach and tightening it into knots. Steve was hit with the thought that they were moving too fast, but he'd spent so long thinking that he was alone – that there was something wrong with him – and, obviously, Tony had underlying issues too. There was a stab of guilt at that; he'd left Tony alone for so many years, but he was here now and he had a chance to try and fix that.

And maybe he couldn't fix it, but he could try and mend as best he could. Maybe neither of them could be fixed but at least they had each other now. That would be enough.

Steve stepped forward and gently took Tony's face in his hands, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing's wrong. Dinner. I thought we were ordering dinner.”

“Tony.”

“You're doing that thing – that thing that Rhodey does whenever he thinks I've done something wrong or when I've said something that he thinks is stupid. I haven't done anything! And there's–”

Steve did the only thing he could think of to shut Tony up. He kissed him.

It wasn't a long kiss and Steve pulled away before Tony could deepen it, smiling just a little when Tony whined about it; his hands were fisted in Steve's shirt. Steve stroked his cheeks gently.

“I waited well over seventy years for you,” Steve breathed softly. “I'd thought that there was something wrong – there wasn't a name on my wrist. I got used to people saying that I was broken. But that's not true anymore. I've got you now and I'm not going to let you go.”

“That's just it – I didn't wait.”

Steve pressed his forehead against Tony's; they had a lot to talk about. “I never expected you to.”

That made Tony make a face in response, which made Steve chuckle because he thought it was adorable, and the two of them stood there for a few more moments. Tony unclenched his hands from Steve's shirt, reaching up to wrap them around his wrists instead; his thumbs gently stroking over Steve's pulse.

“You need to eat,” Steve said, breaking the silence. “I'm up for anything.”

Tony laughed, though there wasn't any humour behind it, “Alright, alright. You're going to mother hen me, I get it.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue that, but Tony pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before he pulled away and moved into the incredibly spacious and modern kitchen (honestly, Steve thought it looked like something straight out of science-fiction). He picked up the phone and quickly dialled, speaking rapidly into the mouthpiece.

Honestly, Steve thought, the entire thing was almost dizzying. He'd never seen anyone move around with so much energy before and Tony was nearly blinding with all of his.

How did he, Steve Rogers, come to deserve this man?

That was a question to be pondered on further later, when there weren't more pressing matters to attend to. Like getting to know Tony a little better. Steve felt a little bit like they were going at this a bit backwards; first kiss before first date, sharing a bed before they actually knew that much about each other.

Well, there were always whirlwind courtships. Those he remembered from the War, when there was always that chance that any day could be a soldier's last, especially up against Hydra.

Steve decided not to think on it too much. He'd take what he could and not complain, he hadn't thought that he'd ever have this. That hole in his chest that he'd believed would always remain empty was gone, filled up by Tony's mere presence. Anything was enough.

He slid into one of the bar stools at the counter, leaning forward on his elbows as he watched Tony talk on the phone. It made him smile, just watching Tony talk and enjoying the sound of his voice.

The conversation didn't last much longer, Tony hung up after a couple more seconds. There was still a bit of a guarded expression in his eyes, but his smile was genuine. He propped himself up on his hands and leaned over the counter towards Steve.

“I pretty much ordered everything so I hope you're hungry and it should be here in about forty-five minutes. There anything you wanna do while we wait?”

“Could we... just talk?” Steve rocked forward a little nervously in his seat, glancing at Tony from under his eyelashes. “I want to know more about you.”

Tony shrugged, “There's not much to say; I'm guessing you've heard it all by now.”

“Not really. SHIELD doesn't–”

“SHIELD found you?”

“That's what they said,” Steve blinked, a little taken back by the sudden change of topic. “I wasn't actually... awake until a few weeks ago. They, um, had to defrost me; they actually didn't think that I was alive at first.”

“Really?”

“Well, you don't exactly expect a man to be alive when you pull him out of the ice, do you? Apparently it was quite the shock.” Steve smiled a little, “Apparently it's got something to do with the serum; a 'system of regeneration.' My body didn't die it just... went to sleep, is the best word for it, I guess.”

“Did you dream?” Tony was leaning towards Steve, eyes wide and an unreadable emotion in their depths.

“Not really,” Steve replied softly. “It was just... darkness. There was nothing. I guess I was alive but it didn't feel like it. It feels like I closed my eyes in the '40s and I wake up in a completely different century – everything has changed... everyone I knew is dead.”

They don't really feel dead to me, Steve thought. Not yet anyway.

Silence hung in the air after that for several long, tense minutes. Tony, eventually, broke it and when he did, his voice was rough and almost strangled with pain, “My... father. You knew him?”

Steve froze and Bucky flashed before his eyes, falling into the river and to his death; how he couldn't – Howard must have been... “I did. We weren't... weren't close.”

“Right, well.” Tony seemed to struggle with words for a couple of seconds. To Steve, it seemed like he was fighting with himself over something. The lines in his face and the pain in his eyes spoke wonders; Steve felt shards of ice stab into his heart, he was most likely responsible for much of that pain.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said softly. He reached out and grabbed one of Tony's hands in his, which was clenched tightly around the edge of the counter, and gave it a squeeze. “I should've been here sooner. For you.”

Tony snorted, but turned his hand to entwine their fingers, “You were too busy fighting and nearly dying for your country; you showed up eventually, even if you were kind of late about getting here.”

“I guess being frozen isn't a great excuse?”

“No, but it'll do.”

Until someone rang up that what Tony had ordered had arrived, the two of them stayed like that, engaged in soft conversation. The conversation was an exchange; Tony asked a couple of questions and then Steve. By an unspoken agreement, neither of them spoke of Howard.

Dinner was also a quiet affair. Steve tried everything and ate most of it, which made Tony laugh and Steve blush.

“How do you eat that much and keep that figure?”

“High metabolism,” Steve replied. “It burns four times faster than the average man.”

There was a dull ache in his chest from speaking those same words that Peggy had said to him. He could still remember her; beautiful and strong, the promise of a future that he'd thought he would never have. And here he was now, alive and he had a soul-mate – it was something of a bittersweet ending. He didn't have the future he'd dreamed of during the War; he had one that he'd believed he'd never had.

And, when he looked at Tony, he thought that maybe everything he'd been through was worth it. He would gladly endure it all again if it meant he could be there right in that moment.

Almost absently, Steve reached out and brushed away a spot of sauce from the corner of Tony's mouth.

“You look dead on your feet,” he remarked.

“Yeah, well, been busy lately with making sure that the Expo didn't explode. You don't have any crazed geniuses who might come after you for revenge or whatever, do you? Because I'm done with dealing with them.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, “Not that I'm aware of. Though, pretty sure that they'd probably either be dead by now or too old to really be a threat.”

Tony pointed a finger at him accusingly as he dumped their dishes into the sink, “Don't judge a genius by their age – we're very capable of figuring out a way to kick your ass without actually having to be physically involved.”

“You're not old, Tony.”

“Older than you.”

“Hm, technically speaking, I'm older – if we're talking numbers of years since I was born, I'm ninety-three.”

Tony stared at him, “You know what? This is going to be really entertaining if anyone starts asking about who's the cradle-robber in this relationship.”

Tony waved that off, but he was moving down the hall. Steve hopped off the stool to follow him, grabbing his bag from the floor as he did.

“Pepper's harmless – well, unless she threatens you with one of her Louboutins then you should probably run. It's Rhodey that you've got to watch out for.”

“I think I can handle it.” Steve actually doubted that this Rhodey would be as intimidating as Miss Potts was, unless Rhodey was an attractive woman. Despite everything, Steve still got just a little tongue-tied around women.

“Oh sure, you tell yourself that but I'm going to be saying I-told-you-so when Rhodey's threatening to bring down the airforce on you if you do something he doesn't like. I don't even know why he'd try to defend my 'honour' or whatever it is that people do in this situation. S'not like it's going to stop me.”

The bedroom was huge and full of sleek, modern furniture; all dark wood and sharp edges. An entire wall of windows overlooked the city and Steve could see the cityscape of New York spread out and lit up. It was all so impressive and new; Steve wasn't sure he'd ever be used to that view. It was just so different from how he remembered it and it was difficult to reconcile that. This was his hometown but, at the same time, it wasn't.

Tony distracted him from the view by flopping down face first onto the bed and mumbling into the pillow, “M'not moving.”

Shaking his head, Steve walked over and grabbed Tony's ankles and pulling his shoes off, “You really shouldn't sleep with your shoes on. And get under the covers or you might catch cold.”

Even though it hadn't been that long, Tony was already falling asleep and he mumbled out something that sounded vaguely like an agreement. Steve just shook his head with a fond smile tugging at his lips before he changed out of his clothes and into his pajamas.

Steve was used to sharing a bed with others, though not romantically. During the War, they were lucky to get a bed and often times the Howling Commandos had to double up when they did. Steve hadn't minded then and he didn't so much mind now but the situation was just so didn't. Sharing a bed with Tony was a lot different than sharing one with a fellow soldier; this was his soul-mate.

For several long minutes of internal conflict, Steve just stood at the side of the bed and watched as Tony slept.

Eventually, his word won out. He had promised Tony that he would share a bed with him. It seemed so important to Tony and Steve couldn't bring himself to disappoint him; especially not when Tony had spent his entire life with the promise of Steve's name on his wrist.

He hadn't been able to keep that promise. Until now. He'd do whatever it took to make that up to Tony. There were scars there that Steve didn't know the cause of, but he knew they were there.

PART TWO | PART FOUR