He ought to have known that there would be a double cross. It made for good theming, with the two identical blonds side by side, perfect eyes staring at him. Tony can’t take it. If he hadn’t been in his armor, he would have ran his fingers through his hair or beard and tried to tug them out. His annoyed huff is translated to one man’s ear while the other, in front of Steve, is on his feet again. His stance hasn’t changed, he’s not itching for a fight now that he has a good idea of what’s expected of him, but he has a feeling he knows who Tony is and he doesn’t exactly like it.
That’s not Tony’s fault. He’s gotten along with his father, sometimes more and sometimes less, but the flying man in the suit traveling around the obnoxious tower of wealth and power that pierces the long forgotten skyline of New York doesn’t sit too well with him. Fury’s filled him in on Stark and he’s done his research.
It’s strange, but other than Peggy, who doesn’t yet know he’s alive again, Stark is the closest tie he had to his past. And it’s all right there, in a paper dossier, on his desk.
The man that enters the room, through the archway leading behind the sacristy to the bell tower and the pastor’s offices, doesn’t look at all like the one that flashes on the television a few times an evening. His face is bruised. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans that look ill fitting with a ball cap rolled up and shoved in his back pocket. There’s white at his temples and shot through his hair. There are lines on his face.
The Steve from the future looks just like him in every way, minus the hair color, but Tony looks almost a decade older than he ought to have been.
The younger Steve’s eyes soften, narrow and then widen in that expressive way Tony has known him to have sometimes. Usually it’s not directed towards him. Usually it’s not full of sympathy. Steve can see through him, just like the one that has become his lover has been able to do for some time now. “Not sure if I should be thanking God for this opportunity or cursing him,” Tony jokes. “Twins. I’ve always gotten in such trouble with twins.”
He doesn’t offer his hand to the other Steve but he does give a generic head nod that so many men are familiar with as he stands beside the other.
“Hi. Tony Stark. But you knew that.” He almost wishes he had left the armor on. “Thanks for your help, kid. We’re going to need it.”
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Date: 2018-07-20 09:02 pm (UTC)That’s not Tony’s fault. He’s gotten along with his father, sometimes more and sometimes less, but the flying man in the suit traveling around the obnoxious tower of wealth and power that pierces the long forgotten skyline of New York doesn’t sit too well with him. Fury’s filled him in on Stark and he’s done his research.
It’s strange, but other than Peggy, who doesn’t yet know he’s alive again, Stark is the closest tie he had to his past. And it’s all right there, in a paper dossier, on his desk.
The man that enters the room, through the archway leading behind the sacristy to the bell tower and the pastor’s offices, doesn’t look at all like the one that flashes on the television a few times an evening. His face is bruised. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans that look ill fitting with a ball cap rolled up and shoved in his back pocket. There’s white at his temples and shot through his hair. There are lines on his face.
The Steve from the future looks just like him in every way, minus the hair color, but Tony looks almost a decade older than he ought to have been.
The younger Steve’s eyes soften, narrow and then widen in that expressive way Tony has known him to have sometimes. Usually it’s not directed towards him. Usually it’s not full of sympathy. Steve can see through him, just like the one that has become his lover has been able to do for some time now. “Not sure if I should be thanking God for this opportunity or cursing him,” Tony jokes. “Twins. I’ve always gotten in such trouble with twins.”
He doesn’t offer his hand to the other Steve but he does give a generic head nod that so many men are familiar with as he stands beside the other.
“Hi. Tony Stark. But you knew that.” He almost wishes he had left the armor on. “Thanks for your help, kid. We’re going to need it.”