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cap_ironman2008-07-20 08:56 pm
Fanfic - Pandanoai Q is for Quiet
Yay!
Q is for Quiet
Author: Miko
Title: Quiet- Parts 1&2
Disclaimer: Marvel’s
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Rating: R
Notes: I have 10 parts planned out for Quietß prime example of my brain can’t do anything short. It goes throughout both Steve and Tony’s lives, but this is all I was able to finish up enough to my liking for the Alphabet Challenge ^____^
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“Quiet Tony baby.”
“What’s the matter Momma?” Tony Stark asked, closing the front door behind him. He’d just returned from a soccer game. It was 4pm.
“Father’s in the den.” She replied, the implications of what that meant perfectly clear to Tony’s mind. “So just stay here with me ok?” Her eyes were pleading. Tony looked down the long hallway of the mansion that had been his home for as long as he could remember. It couldn’t really be true, but the hallway seemed darker at that moment. Tony pried his eyes away when his mother scooped him up tightly in an embrace.
She kissed his forehead.
“Just stay here with me.” She repeated.
Tony closed his eyes.
The thing he knew his mother wasn’t saying was the fact that in just eight days he’d be gone. He had to leave for boarding school. Tony’s chest still tightened every time he thought about it.
Tony looked up into his mother’s eyes. They were bright blue, so warm and kind. It was such a difference from his father’s steel blue ones.
Tony cursed his own eyes. They looked exactly like his father’s.
Tony knew that if he were to go to his father now, with how he was sure to be, he’d hand Tony a glass and ramble on about the economy; His eyes shining perversely whenever Tony winced against the heat in the back of his throat.
He didn’t want to leave his mother alone here. Alone with him. Maybe if he could just talk to him. Somehow earn his respect in under a week through proximity and alcohol.
Tony forced himself to turn away from his mother’s sad eyes. He was only seven, and while his mind could connect the complexities of the modern combustion engine, he was still very naïve.
Maria noticed the look on her son’s face. “Tony stay quiet.”
He didn’t want to leave her.
So he didn’t dare look back.
“Father I’m home.” He yelled out.
“Boy?” He heard his father slur, his voice muffled by the distance between them. “Did you win?”
“Yes sir.” Tony responded, unraveling himself from his mother’s desperate grasp.
Tony heard his father grunt in what he liked to imagine as approval, maybe even pride.
Tony closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.
He moved toward the darkened den. His mother didn’t say a word.
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“Quiet Steve! You’re not making anything better!”
Steven Rogers clenched his fists as he sat up and coughed, brushing the dirt from his face. He briefly registered that his mom would hate he’d gotten his clothes so dirty.
He looked down at his hands and his bloody knuckles. He looked back up at the boy in front of him. They were the same age but the boy towered above him like he was nothing, even when Steve was standing.
Everyone towered above Steve.
“We can’t just do nothin’.” Steve countered, fire in his eyes; power he couldn’t express racking his small frame. Mental strength he couldn’t present physically held him back, frustrating him to the core.
“What do ya expect us to do Stevie? The grown ups don’t see nothin’ wrong with it, and there’s more of ‘em then us.”
Steve looked back over to where the other man still lay in the street, five grown ups around him. All Steve could make out was the blue jacket the man wore.
A man with a brown bowler hat kicked the man with the blue jacket again and again. The man with the bowler hat had been the same one who had thrown Steve to the ground when he’d tried to pull the large man off of the man in the blue jacket, the man now calling out in agony as the others surrounded him.
People on the street were beginning to gather. Some were pointing, others laughing.
Steve felt tears come to his eyes.
He dragged himself to his feet and took a step toward the men again.
The boy from his neighborhood pulled him back with his hand on his shoulder.
“Whater you crazy? What did I just say?” The boy’s face gawked in surprise.
“Don’t matter!” Steve countered, wiping the sweat and the dirt from his eyes. “What ain’t right, ain’t right. I can’t just let it happen!”
“Whatever Rogers… You’re crazy! You wanna get pummeled over that nigger you go ahead. Count me out.”
Steve narrowed his gaze as he watched the other boy walk off without a single backward glance.
Steve closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.
He bit his lip.
Steve’s bright blue eyes snapped open and were drawn to the man shaking on the ground out in the road, being hurt for no reason except for the way he looked.
Steve Rogers’ ran back out into the street.
He wouldn’t stay quiet about this, and one day he’d find a way to get everyone to listen to him.
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I really like the second one!
He wouldn’t stay quiet about this, and one day he’d find a way to get everyone to listen to him.
powerful line!
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^^
...DAMN, forgot to comment on Moth!...and gestalts Sentience Pages...and probably more...
I´m off writing these now!
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But I think I liked the Steve part even better. His heart has always been the strongest part of him, and of course he held the same ideals when he didn't have the strength to back them up--and of course he wouldn't let that lack of strength stop him from trying. But we don't actually get to see that very often.
Thanks for sharing! :-)
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Tony is my woobie and he's always had a heart that just won't quit.
And as Schmevil once said, "Steve had already experienced power working on the powerless, so when the American military turned him into a super soldier, he knew that he had to use his abilities, and his position with care. Because fundamentally, Steve doesn't just want to help the little guy, Steve IS the little guy." --- that really inspired this fic ^__^