Fic - My Mouth Is Open, I See With My Eyes (part I)

[smilingskull.livejournal.com]

So, more angsty fic! This is set in the same universe (sort of a speculation with a bit of AU about the future of the MU) as Star, which is actually one of the sections in this fic.

Told in 10 acts or vignettes, each one is set a year after the previous one. The first section is 7 years from now, so the second is 8 years, etc. The exception is the 10th section, which occurs a few minutes after the 9th. Also, sorry in advance, this is long.

Beta'd by the totally amazing and out of this world awesome cruelest_month. :) The title is a line from the Egyptian Book of the Dead.

Title: My Mouth Is Open, I See With My Eyes
Pairings/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Teddy Altman/Billy Kaplan, Kate Bishop, Shannon Carter, Sharon Carter, Dr. Strange, Nick Fury, a whole lot of other people in cameo appearances.
Rating: R
Fandom: The Avengers. (All current Marvel cannon applies)
Warnings: Lots of angst, some minor violence. Angst. Also, some vaguely, not really, possibly sexual bits. Did I mention angst?
Word Count: ~ 13,700
Disclaimer: No own, no profit. 'Tis all good.



For a quick bit of exposition: Shannon Carter is an actual Marvel character in the MC2 universe. Her mother is mentioned as being Sharon, and although it's never said who her father is, everyone just assumes it's Steve. For the sake of this fic, we're gonna go with Steve being her father. :) If you want to know more about her, here's the last issue of her recent American Dream mini. Otherwise, I'd suggest Wikipedia.

Robert Stevens is the CEO of real life company Lockheed Martin. They're sort of the IRL version of Stark Industries. Jill and Rebecca - otherwise known as Jillecca to Tony - are his two personal assistants for the sake of this story. To the Lighthouse is a stream of consciousness novel by Virgina Woolf.

Alright, on to the fic!





I.

Kate Bishop and Billy Kaplan have a standing lunch date, every Wednesday at a cute little café down in the Village. They sit at the same table every time, outside on the patio but under trees. When it starts getting cold, they move right inside, to the table on the other side of the big plate glass window. They’ve been doing this for ages, at this point. It’s usually a blissful little bit of time to spend enjoying good food.

Today, there’s a cloud hanging over both of them. Kate stares at her water glass, running a finger around the rim apathetically. There’s condensation built up on the outside the glass, its May and the weather is starting to heat up. Another month or so and the weather will be unbearable, hot and humid and radiating off the pavement and all the buildings and people.

“You really want to do this?” Billy asks, not turning his head to look at Kate. Instead he’s staring at the Starbucks across the street absentmindedly. How many times has he been to that Starbucks? He’s lost count. And never once has he gotten a single over priced beverage, just gone right up the stairs that no one else seems to see in the back corner of the place to go meet with Dr. Strange.

“It just seems wrong that we’re still running around. No one really recovered from that whole Skrull mess-“

“Which was years ago.”

“But look what it did. Eli gone, both Avengers teams in shambles. Everyone still misses Jarvis. And yeah, we’ve sort of gotten better. But god, Billy. We can’t be the Young Avengers anymore by default. Our youngest member is 21. We’re trying to fill shoes that aren’t ours to fill, and no one wants or needs us anymore.”

“Everyone still does miss Jarvis. And we are getting old.”

“We are not getting old. We’re only 25.”

Billy is silent, sighs and puts his head in his hands. He knew they couldn’t stay together forever, that the team was going to fall apart eventually. The fact that they’d made it this long was amazing, really. They’ve only had a few roster changes, the whole Eli mess and then his death, getting Speed, and then loosing him to the X-men. Billy’s not sure if you could call Tommy a mutant, but it’s there, after all, Wanda was one. Which would make him one too, but it’s never something he’s really given much thought to, let alone embraced in any way. He’s just Wiccan, member of the Young Avengers. And yeah, they probably should have dropped the Young part of that a while ago.

“I can’t believe Cassie is 21 already.” Billy murmurs. “What are we going to do? Give up hero work totally? We’re all technically registered. Technically being the key word here. I guess it doesn’t matter that much at this point, does it?”

“Probably not, at this point. The bill to repeal the SHRA was passed in the House last week. The Senate’s going to approve it, and there’s no way the President is going to veto it. So there you go. The mess that started this whole disaster of situations will be worth nothing in a few short weeks.” Kate shakes her head. “All that for nothing.”

“This is going to kill Tony.” Billy grouses, leans his head back, lets it roll on his shoulders.

“Why, seeing his dearly beloved die?” Kate snipes, crossing her arms.

“Interesting choice of words.” Billy pops his head back up, looks at Kate, full on, for the first time during the meal. “You did know about them, right?”

“What, Stark and the government?”

“Tony and Steve.”

“Oh right. Yeah, of course I did. I think everyone in the Tower knew about them. Except Spiderman, he was always sort of clueless to life in general.”

“I had to tell Teddy.”

“I thought you two figured it out first.”

“I did. Then I told him.”

Kate cracks her neck, turns to look at the Starbucks that had held Billy’s attention earlier.

“This is one huge clusterfuck.” She says, picking up a fork and stabbing at the remnants of food on her plate. To the casual observer it would look like a PMS-influenced gesture, but to Billy it looks like ten-plus years of combat training. Kate once claimed she knew 12 different ways to kill someone with kitchenware and utensils. Billy doesn’t doubt it.

“Yeah, I know. So are we going to disband the team?” Billy feels his gut wrench at the thought. He’s never even given any thought to what he’d do if he gave up the costume.

“We have to. Maybe one day we can fire things up again, start a new team, but not right now. Not with the mess of the failure of the SHRA and the lasting effects of getting our butts kicked by Skrulls. But the Young Avengers are done. We have to be done.”

“Vision’s going to have to go back to SI.” Billy points out. “He’s only ours as long as there’s a team around, that’s the way it goes.”

“Cassie’s not going to like that.”

“Honestly? That’s fine with me. This is the same guy who is supposedly my father.”

“Wow. That is creepy on several different levels.”

“Just a bit.”

Neither of them talks for a few minutes, they both just sit and listen to the hustle and the bustle of the city. Billy’s mind wanders to Teddy, shut up in some conference chamber in Midtown. He knows the reasons behind Teddy taking the job at the UN, but also knows that Teddy would rather be doing a lot of other things besides talking behind closed doors with a bunch of international suits.

“We’re not the only team that’s disbanded.” Kate says after a while, glancing back at Billy. “Both Avengers teams are gone. The Runaways broke up at the beginning of this year.”

“Yeah, I know. Karolina Dean and Xavin work with Teddy.” Billy’s met the duo on several occasions, at parties and other ambassador type events. They’re both tall, gorgeous, and, every time he’s seen them, impeccably dressed. Xavin talks like a politician and Karolina like an activist, and they make quite the pair.

“I met Karolina Dean one when we were both younger, even before our various team-ups with the Runaways. She seemed incredibly put together for a child of Hollywood. And Xavin is incredibly normal for being a transplanted Skrull.”

“Please don’t crack a gay Skrulls joke. I’ve heard them all and then some.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of that, actually. But that’s kind funny. The two young teams, coast to coast, both have a gay duo, one of whom happens to be a Skrull?”

“Teddy’s half-Kree, you know that. And besides, I’m human. And, as you also know, Karolina’s a… uh. What kind of alien is she? I just know she’s a bit of a walking pride parade.”

“I forget. I’m assuming you’ll talk to Teddy about the team?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve already talked with Cassie, and while she’s not happy with it, she gets it. She’s going through with her plans to go to med school.”

“Well, we can have a team doctor if we do ever start another team.”

This earns a small laugh out of Kate, who stands up and drops a twenty dollar bill on the table.

“Call Stark about Vision?” She asks.

“Yeah, I will.” Billy answers, watches her walk away. She dashes across the street, between cars with the eased of a practiced New Yorker, and then disappears down the steps to the subway station on the opposite corner.

He digs his cell out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts, stopping at “Stark, Tony”, and pushing the call button.

It rings twice before a cheery voice on the other end picks up.

“Tony Stark’s office, may I ask who’s calling about what?” The woman on the other end sounds incredibly perky.

“Billy Kaplan about the Vision.”



II.

Steve hovers over him, propped up on his elbows, a sly smile plastered on his face.

“Welcome home.” Tony yawns, stretching. “Enjoy D.C.?”

“I was decidedly lacking in you.” Steve murmurs, leaning in to kiss Tony. Tony makes a contented little noise, drinking in the kiss and the pleasure of having Steve home. He moves against the soft sheets, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, like a ship to a dock. His rock, lifeline.

The kiss is deep and passionate and full of heat, and Steve tastes like he always does, kisses like he always does, warm and inviting. Tony runs his hands through Steve’s hair, the short cut rough under his hands, and Steve moves from Tony’s lips to the corner of his mouth, down his neck. When he bites Tony’s collarbone, places a hot kiss over the abused skin, Tony arches into Steve, skin-to-skin. The hum of their bodies, right under their skin, melds together, energy between them.

God, Tony missed this while Steve was off in D.C. A week isn’t long, but it’s long enough.

He trails lazy hands down Steve’s sides, tracing the corded muscles and enjoying the feel of the warmth of Steve’s skin under his hands. He swirls little circles with his fingers down Steve’s breastbone, down to his stomach – and then Tony’s hands are warm and wet, and Steve gasps in pain.

Tony looks down – sees the gapping wound, the bullet wound, sees the pain on Steve’s face, contorted above him. Sees the blood on his own hands, flowing freely from Steve’s body. His hands are red, they’re covered it in, and he’s shaking, sobbing –

- Sitting upright in bed like a rocket, breathing heavy and jumpy, panicked. His room is only lit by the glow of the city around him, the tall, floor to ceiling windows letting the light ghost in. He draws his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around his legs as tight as possible, rests his forehead on his knees. He’s clenching his jaw so hard it hurts.

He shouldn’t be having these dreams any more, that was years ago, it’s gone, it’s over.

“Fuck.” He says against his knees. “Fuck!” He suddenly moves, languid and gracefully and reaches for a book on the bedside table, hurling it across the room. It hits the opposite wall with a dull thump and lands on the ground, open, with half the pages crumpled at an odd angle, squished between the heavy cover and the ground. It sits there dejectedly.

“Fuck.” Tony gets up, stalks across the room on shaky legs and retrieves the book, flips it over in his hands to smooth out the pages. He sees now that it’s To the Lighthouse, and that on the particular page the book is open to there are doodles in the margins, one labeled Mrs. Ramsay, another of a woman painting at an easel. They’re unmistakable the product of Steve’s hand, the precise shading but rough outlines that of an artist, a student who’s been through life drawing. Tony flips through the book, more doodles come and go. There are some that are unrelated to the story, like a drawing of Hitler riding a unicorn being shot down by little tanks near the bottom edge of the page, and one of the Quinjet on a blank page between chapters. When he gets to the end of the book, where the end pages offer whole pages to sketch on, he finds a pencil version of himself. He’s bent over a desk, working on something, the muscles in his arms defined and his hair a mess, covering his forehead. It’s beautiful.

Tony stumbles back to the bed, sits down on the edge of it. He stares at the drawing of himself before snapping the book shut, dropping it onto the bed next to him. He puts his face in his hands, scrubs at the skin, feels the roughness of his facial hair against his palms. His breathing is still shaky, his body feels disconnected. He hates this, hates the nightmares, wishes they would end.

“Fuck.” Only a murmur.

The next day one of his personal assistants, the Rebecca part of Jillecca, sticks her head through the door of his office when he buzzes her.

“Can you get Robert Stevens on the phone for me?” He asks, running a hand through his hair while shuffling through papers on his desk with the other.

“Sure, Mr. Stark.” She says, hovers a few moments, regarding him with a worried look. “Are you alright, sir?”

He looks up at her, thinks about this for a second.

“Yes. No. Fuck. It doesn’t matter, just get Stevens on the phone.” He says, slams a paperweight out of the way on his search for whatever it is he’s looking for.

“Alright.” Rebecca says slowly, then backs out of the office and shuts the door as quietly as possible behind her.

Tony shoves away from the desk, his rolling chair goes flying into the windows behind him. His head thumps against the glass and he grimaces, getting up slowly. He rubs the back of his head, flipping off the window and kicking the chair out of the way before stalking to the door and wrenching it open. Both Jill and Rebecca look up as he passes, and it looks like Rebecca wants to say something, but they don’t.

He’s loosening his tie as he gets into the personal elevator, rides it to the top floor.

A few moments later and Iron Man takes off from the roof, shoots up through the smog-choked sky of summertime Manhattan, up into the clouds, straight up.

He realizes that it really doesn’t matter if he’s ok or not when he gets to about 25,000 feet, that it hasn’t mattered in a long time. That it will continue not to matter as long as he’s alive.

It hasn’t mattered since Captain America was killed.

III.

Billy’s perched on the edge of a roof, sitting cross-legged, watching foot traffic and regular old traffic go whizzing by under him. He’s slowly eating his way through a bag of chips, every so often leaving one next to him for a pigeon to come and eat. He can see the café where Kate and he trade tidbits over lunch, down at street level and across the street. There’s a young couple eating at their table, laughing and flirting.

He sighs, turns to look north. Midtown rises out of brownstones and townhouses, glittering steel and glass skyscrapers. The tallest is Stark Tower, the midday sun glances off the exterior of the building. He wonders if Tony Stark is sitting in his office, surveying the city from the shell he built around his company. It’s been quite a while since he’s been to Stark Tower.

He hears footsteps behind him and looks over his shoulder to see Wong coming through the door marked ‘roof access’ with a platter in his hands. The platter has a teapot and cup sitting on it, and there’s some steam rising from the edges of the lid of the teapot. He walks over to the roof edge where Billy is sitting and sets the tray down next to him.

“Dr. Strange requested that this be brought up to you, young master.” Wong says, and then bows, returns the way he came as Billy offers up a weak ‘thanks’. The china has strange markings on it, and Billy wouldn’t be surprised if they were incantations of some sort, although he doesn’t recognize the language, and he’s accumulated a decent amount of time in Dr. Strange’s library. He pours the tea, and it smells like Chai and something else, which, knowing Strange, it is. Something no doubt from another dimension that Clea brought back. Billy shakes his head in amusement, thinking how normal his life was until the Young Avengers happened. Even that part of his life seems relatively normal now that he’s studying under Dr. Strange.

The tea’s good, and it’s warm as it slides down his throat. It’s comforting. He hunches his shoulders and concentrates on drinking the tea, enjoying it. He almost doesn’t hear it when the noise of wings enters the edge of his hearing.

He immediately snaps his head up, puts down the tea and stands up, narrowing and focusing his vision in the direction of the wings. He immediately relaxes when he sees just who the rough, grey-green wings belong too. Teddy’s mostly human looking at the moment, save for the trademark wings. Billy also notes, with a grin, that he’s shirtless. The article of clothing in question is clutched against his chest, in strong arms.

When he lands on the edge of the roof next to Billy - a gust of air nearly knocking Billy off his feet - he’s smiling. Billy’s smiling from ear to ear to match Teddy’s face. Teddy hops down from the ledge as his wings shift and shrink, disappearing into the smooth skin of his back. Teddy makes a come hither motion with one finger and it’s all the convincing Billy needs before he’s on the flat roof too, replacing the shit with his body in Teddy’s arms. He takes a deep breath, his forehead pressed against Teddy’s chin, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of Teddy’s strong arms around his waist.

“I missed you.” Billy breaths, wrapping his arms tighter.

“I missed you too, babe.” Teddy murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of Billy’s head. It’s been two weeks, two weeks without Teddy, while he was off on some crazy intergalactic peacekeeping mission with the West Coast Gay Duo. Two weeks sulking around Dr. Strange’s Sanctorum, buried in books in long lost languages and full of unfamiliar runes. That and beating the snot out of the punching bag in the corner of the gym in the basement.

They stay like that, wrapped around each other, just enjoying having another body again. After a few moments, Teddy pulls back, draws Billy into a long, lingering kiss.

“No one’s going to snap pictures of us up here, are they?” Teddy murmurs into the kiss. “That Jameson is going to have a field day with?”

“How is that man still alive?” Billy laughs, leaning back in Teddy’s arms. “And no. You have to know the building is here to actually see what’s going on. The top floors just look deserted otherwise.”

“Huh. But the Starbucks is actually real?”

“All real. If you want a Carmel Macchiato, all you have to do is run downstairs.”

“Oh god. You should hear Xavin bitch about the lack of Starbucks in interstellar space. She evidently considerers the Carmel Macchiato our galaxy’s finest achievement.”

Billy laughs, and, leaning back against Teddy, places a single kiss over his sternum. Teddy hums happily, riffling Billy’s hair.

“It’s good to have you back, Tall, Green and Handsome.” Billy says happily.

“Hey, you too, Not-so-tall, Dark and Handsome.” Teddy quips back, and leans down to kiss Billy again.



IV.

Tony looks at the box, sighs. It’s a simple wooden box sitting on his living room table with a giant bow on the top – red, white and blue – with a card tucked into the bottom of the bow. He and James spent a whole hell of a lot of time debating about this one. In the end the original shield, Steve’s shield, went into the box, and James got a new one, courtesy of Stark Industries. It’s identical, but there’s a lot more ridding on the one in the box than on the one that James is now carrying around.

He doesn’t exactly like James, thinks he should go back to being the Winter Soldier or something, but Steve said to look after him, out for him, and that’s what Tony’s attempted to do.

Tony gets up from the couch, sets his can of Coke down on the table and picks up the box instead, slinging it under one arm. The object inside makes a dull metal “clang” when it hits the side of the box when he shifts it. How many times has he heard a more forceful version of that sound? Hell, he’s gotten this shield to the faceplate before. He knows what it sounds like when it hits something as well as he knows the sound of his own voice. Or of Steve’s voice.

He slips into the elevator, rolls his shoulders as the lift starts its decent. It goes speeding down, slowing only when it gets to the lobby. When the doors ding open and he steps out, the lobby is less busy that usual, it’s a weekend. He strides across the marble floors, the inlaid circuitry in the floor humming against the Extremis. When he gets to the doors, he pops on a pair of sunglasses and continues his trek to the car waiting for him at the curb. The valet tosses him the keys, which he catches deftly, and he opens the passenger side door, carefully setting the box down against the Italian leather of the seat. He stares at it for a second before shutting the door, going around to the driver’s side.

It’s only when he’s on the Queensboro Bridge that he relaxes somewhat. For one, the traffic is moving along smoothly, and even Tony Stark, with his Extremis enhanced reflexes, is afraid of driving in Manhattan to some degree. He’s heard the stories about cabbies becoming NASCAR drivers. Anyone who can do that shouldn’t be on city streets.

He’s still anxious though. Seeing Sharon always puts him on edge, no matter the bonding they’ve done. He knows about the whole brainwashing deal, hell, he’s been there before too, but it still doesn’t quite fix, quite heal, everything. He knows he’s being selfish, knows that Sharon blames herself, was on suicide watch her whole pregnancy. And hell, she got a kid out of this. A kid who is a reminder of America’s fallen son, who has his eyes and he knows it hurts Sharon just as much as it hurts him to look into those eyes. And they both feel like crap about it, because this is Sharon’s kid, her only daughter. Her only child. He’s seen Shannon enough over the years that sometimes it feels like she’s his child somehow too.

When he pulls up the Carter’s Oyster Bay home, the party is in full swing. There are cars parked around the block (most of them minivans and SUVs), so Tony just swings into the driveway. He knows the only person parked in the garage is Sharon, and if she really needs to go make an emergency run for more chips or something, he’ll go do it.

He climbs out of the car, retrieves the box from the other seat and follows the sound of the party around back. The backyard is full of kids running and screaming, there seems to be some game of tag going on where the rules are different depending on what child is ‘it’, and the amount of hot soccer moms is slightly disturbing. Tony even recognizes a few from charity balls and the like he’s gone too.

He finds Sharon gossiping with four other mothers, and it strikes Tony as an odd picture. These parties always strike Tony as odd though. It probably has something to do with the fact that Sharon’s a retired Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and that the birthday girl who’s party this is happens to be the daughter of Captain America.

And then there’s the added weirdness of Nick Fury entertaining a group of 10-year-olds with war stories.

“Recruiting new howling commandos?” Tony asks breezily as he walks past. Fury just rolls his eyes and continues his story. Tony just has to grin. Nick Fury, the most feared man in the history of S.H.I.E.L.D., and new ‘Official Coolest Old Person Ever’ to a gaggle of kids.

He kisses Sharon on the cheek when he gets to her, and she turns, smiling at Tony.

“Hey, I’m glad you could make it.” She says.

“You know I don’t miss Shannon’s birthday.” He grins. “Where would the presents table be?”

Sharon’s eyes go wide at the box in Tony’s arms. She’s seen the shield just as much as Tony has, knows that the box is the perfect size for it, knows why the bow is red, white and blue.

“Is that..?” She asks, breathless. “I thought James had it.”

Her harem of soccer moms seems very confused at the exchange going on.

“He did. We agreed Shannon’s the one to have it.” Tony says softly, puts a hand on Sharon’s shoulder.

“God, Tony, really? Now I’m going to have Shannon running around the house for the next 8 years with that shield, pretending to be Cap.” She says, and Tony knows what she means. Knows that now she’s going to see those blue eyes and blonde hair paired with the immortal shield, and it’s going to be him again. And Tony knows, he’s seen it before in her eyes, that spark, that maybe she’s only going to be pretending to be Cap for a little bit longer before she just outright becomes Cap.

“I know. It occurs to me I probably should have consulted you before I brought this.”

“No, it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But it makes sense. I guess it is rightfully hers.” Sharon clears her throat, plasters a smile back on. “The mountain of presents – that child is so spoiled – is over on the patio.”

Tony thanks her and moves off, hears the soccer moms asking Sharon about what they just saw transpire. If only they knew that Sharon could take them all out, right here, right now, for hearing too much. He makes a mental note to have Shannon open his gift later, away from social climbing shark mothers and curious tots.

He lets himself in through the back door instead, and puts the wooden box on the kitchen table, before returning outside. He sits down next to Nick on the steps to the patio, crossing his arms on his knees.

“So then, I’m army crawlin’ along, on my belly, the dirt’s flying everywhere, I have no idea where to go, who’s what and what’s up and what’s down, when I hear that massive boom!” He claps his hands on ‘boom’, and a few of the kids jump in surprise. “And I’m flyin’ through the air like God almighty, and boy do I hurt, cause that was a landmine going off, right under me. I’m lucky to be alive, that’s what.”

“If we’re going to trade landmine stories, I have a cooler one.” Tony says matter-of-factly, winks at Shannon, who he’s just noticed is one of the children in the semi-circle around them, because Shannon’s heard this story dozens of times. She’s probably heard all of Nick’s stories a million times too.

Shannon jumps up at the wink and flies over to give Tony a bear hug, ending up in lap.

“I was so totally afraid you were not going to come.” She says solemnly.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ve always been at your birthdays.” Tony grins, poking her on the nose. She breaks into a smile, and hops up out of his lap, standing with her hands on her hips. She looks so much like Steve, right down to the fact that…

“How tall are you?” He asks incredulously.

“4’10” ½.” She says proudly.

Fury whistles in surprise. “Well holy Hell girl.” He says to her, before her turns to Tony. “I didn’t think the serum was that freakin’ genetic.”

Tony shrugs. He doesn’t even know if Shannon’s ever been tested for it. It could just have something to do with normal old genetics, what with her parents both being on the tall side. Even if you split their heights for a perfect mesh-up of genes, that’d still have Shannon topping out around 6 feet. That doesn’t seem too far off, the girl is a beanstalk already.

“Serum?” One of the kids in the circle asks, wide eyed.

“Now there’s a story for yah.” Fury slaps his leg, points around the circle. “Who wants to know how Captain America got his powers?”

Every single hand in the circle shoots ups, even Shannon’s, never mind that this is another story she’s heard a million times. She idolizes the man, has his poster up in her bedroom, wants to be him when she grows up. The picture on her bedside table was her gift from Tony last year: a group photo of the original Avengers. Sharon said she’d never Shannon so happy in her whole life.

Tony has a feeling that is going to change when Shannon gets her gift this year. Sharon had been making noise about telling Shannon who her real father was for a while now, and granted, she wasn’t Tony’s kid, but he figured sooner was better than later, and the shield was a perfect way to start that topic up. Sharon was probably thinking it too. Tony stole a glance in her direction – still talking to the same group of mothers.

Fury clears his throat, begins his story.

“So, there was this scientist, right? Military issue sort of guy—”

“You have to start at the beginning.” Tony says suddenly, interrupting him.

“I am, now shut it.” Fury grouses, but Tony shakes his head.

“If you’re going to tell an origins story, do it properly.” Tony says, elbowing Nick, which earns him a nice right hook in the shoulder. Mouthing ‘ow’, Tony rubs at his shoulder, and starts the story. Properly

“A long time ago, in a land far, far away-“

“’Scuze me, mister? How far away?” One of the kids asks very sternly, crossing his arms.

“Far enough away, with traffic. Manhattan.” Tony explains. The kid just nods sagely, and Tony continues. “So anyway, a long time ago, in a land far, far away, there was a young boy, named Steve Rogers. He wanted to be an artist, and he was very talented, so he was able to go to art school. However, soon after he started art school, World War II broke out.”

“That’s a long time ago. There were dinosaurs back then.” Tony hears one of the kids whisper to the girl next to him.

“No, there were panzers, dummy.” The girl says, adding ‘Duh.’ on the end for effect. Tony has to smile at their antics, and the fact that girl is actually right.

“Steve really wanted to help his country in the war effort,” Tony keeps going with the story, “but he was kind of a scrawny kid, so the army turned him away when he tried to join up. However, a man named General Phillips had heard how badly Steve wanted to help, so he offered him a chance, said he like ‘How much spirit’ Steve had.”

Those were the exact words Steve had said when he had told Tony the story a few weeks after they first met. The story starts materializing in living color in Tony’s brain, aided by the fact that those same blue eyes, full of sparking life, are staring at him with rapt attention now.

“So General Phillips introduced Steve to Dr. Abraham Erskine, who was working on a top secret project for the army, called the Super Soldier Program.”

“Hey, I know about that!” One of the kids pipes up. “My cousin Maya worked on something like that, called the.. uh. Like, Extreme Miss. I never knew what it was about. But she sounded cool. Extreme Miss. I bet she was some crazy superhero project! Like Captain America!”

“That’s awesome.” Another kid says happily.

“Your last name’s Hansen?” Tony asks the kid, trying to not sound as totally shocked as he actually is. The kid gives him a sideways look.

“How do you know that? You’re not a crazy supervillain or something, are you?” The kid punches into his palm for effect.

“No, I’m not. I worked with Dr. Hansen – Maya – a while ago. On that program, in fact.” Tony says, which seems to placate the kid a bit.

“Cool.” He nods.

“Yeah, ‘worked with’. Supercomputer boy.” Fury snorts under his breath. Tony thinks about elbowing Fury again, but his shoulder is still sore from the earlier punch.

“If no one is going to finish the story,” Shannon stands up, hops up the steps behind Fury and Tony and stands on the top one, looks quite triumphant, “then I’m gonna finish it.”

She sticks her hands back on her hips, and assembled kids go quiet. Even Fury and Tony swivel around to watch her.

“Steve wanted this badly, so went ahead with the program Dr. Erskine had set up. They gave him all sorts of tests and hooked him up to all sorts of crazy medical stuff with really long names, but in the end they found that he had a fighting spirit, and wanted this more than anything. He had untapped power, and he was strong, so they gave him the serum – the Super Solider Serum – and zapped him with all these crazy lasers and gamma-rays!” Shannon’s really getting into it, hand gestures and all. “And it was totally painful but he got through it, and after that, he was Captain America – truth, justice and freedom for all! And he fought for his country and did the right thing when America needed him most. He was always on the right side and always knew what to do – through everything. That’s why he’s America’s greatest hero.”

Shannon finishes in a burst of gusto, one hand above her head in a fist. The kids all clap and hoop and holler, and Tony has to admit, she’s a good storyteller. If making speeches is genetic, Shannon’s living proof.

And standing there, she looks like living proof of every other bit of Steve too. The triumphant hand raised, other hand balled in a fist on her hip, and Tony notices for the first time that she’s wearing bright red Converse All-Stars and a dark blue shirt with a white star on the front.

Nick leans over, whispers in Tony’s ear.

“If that ain’t Cap back from the dead, I don’t know what is.”

And it might as well be, and Tony realizes that he may have just sealed her destiny today, with that innocent looking box on the kitchen table. He gets up, excuses himself, goes to find someone to talk to who doesn’t know who he is, who Shannon’s father is, who Nick Fury is, doesn’t know about S.H.I.E.L.D. or any of this mess.

An hour later, when Tony’s got a piece of pizza in one hand, and is charming the pants off of one of the assembled soccer moms in an attempt to get his mind off Steve, because he knows if he keeps thinking about him he’s going to freeze up, choke up, there’s a screech from inside the house.

The kitchen window is open, and it faces out back, so everyone can hear Shannon’s voice going “OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!!”, and everyone can certainly see her when she comes running out of the house, using both hands to hang onto the metal disk. It glints dangerously in the sun, and she manages to heft it over her head, standing in a wide-legged stance in her position on the top step from earlier. Tony has to take a deep breath to steady his breathing.

Sharon, who’s been standing next to him, sighs.

“This is it.” She mutters.

“This is most certainly fucking it.” Tony agrees, and watches as Shannon comes flying across the yard, stopping a foot from Tony to set the shield down carefully on the ground, as if it was a living creature, and then leaps at Tony, catching him a hug that’s just a bit too bone-crushing for a 10-year-old.

“Thank you thank you thank you oh my gosh thank you!” The stream of words spills out of her mouth at about a mile a minute. “I know I shouldn’t have opened it yet but oh my gosh oh my gosh this is the coolest moment EVER!” She lets go of Tony and rushes back to the shield and picks it up, then comes running back.

“Isn’t this the coolest gift in the history of everything?” She asks her mom, who just smiles at her, bends down to her height.

“You know whose shield that was, right?” She asks softly, putting her hands on Shannon’s shoulders and looking her square in the eyes.

“Yeah, Captain America’s!” Shannon squeaks out, the happiness has pitched her voice up to an incredibly high octave.

“Yes. Your father’s.” Sharon murmurs, and Tony can see the sadness in her eyes. Shannon, however - Tony’s never seen a more elated and shocked expression in his life. She looks about ready to spontaneously combust.

“My… my father’s? My dad was Captain America?” Shannon is speaking just as softly as her mother now. Sharon nods solemnly. Shannon doesn’t say anything for a second, then turns around and raises the shield above her head again, and it gets the attention of every single kid in the yard. There’s utter silence for a split second, and then, in a commanding voice that throws Tony into the past, makes his breath catch in his throat, Shannon cries out,

“Avengers Assemble!”



V.

Teddy’s never seen anything quite like it. He knows that technically Billy has an amazing amount of power locked away in his small frame, but he’s never seen it used to it’s full potential. And this may not even be it’s full potential.

Billy is hovering 10 feet in the air, off the roof, a full on lightening storm crackling around him, and his eyes are glowing so intently that they’re just orbs of pure white light. His arms are thrown wide, and magic dances on the ends of his fingertips, sparking between the digits like they’re each a conduit. The air is so charged with electricity Teddy can feel his hair starting to stand on end. It’s a weird feeling.

Dr. Strange is standing in front of Billy, watching him intently. His hands are glowingly lightly, and odd hieroglyphics are rotating slowly around them. Without warning, Strange suddenly leaps at Billy, and the glow in his hands explodes.

“Billy!” Teddy yells, rushing forward. However, one of Billy’s force fields lashes out, knocking Teddy right down onto his back on the floor, knocking the wind out of him. Weakly shuffling into a sitting position while trying to get his breath back, he just stares in amazement at what’s going in front of him.

There’s so much magic going on Teddy doesn’t even know where to start. Maybe he could start with the fact that Billy and Strange both look like kung-fu masters, graceful to a haunting degree. It’s like a lethal version of ballroom dancing.

Magic cracks between the two of them, and Teddy watches as Billy takes one of his lighting bolts like a rope, whips around and snaps it down at Dr. Strange. It catches him on the wrist, and Strange pulls Billy forward with it, flinging him down to the ground in one fluid motion. Just before Billy can hit the ground he catches himself, spread eagle and hovering mere inches above the ground. He flips over, stands up in one fluid motion and suddenly his arms are glowing, all the way up to his shoulders, in what looks like a magic copy of the Iron Man gauntlets and sleeves. Sure enough, copying a move Teddy’s seen Tony do, Billy swivels around, thrusts his left hand forward, and a blast of magic flattens Strange.

When the burst clears, Dr. Strange is nowhere in eyesight.

“Shit.” Billy mutters, looks up. Sure enough, Strange is floating high overhead. Whipping his arms around in some complex movement that Teddy doesn’t quite catch, Billy rocks back on his heels, launching two lighting bolts in Strange’s direction. At the last moment they disappear, only to reappear over Strange’s head, barreling down at him. Strange simply opens a palm over his head, absorbs the energy blasts, and slowly floats back down to the roof, landing gently.

“Very good.” Dr. Strange says, walking over to Billy. “How tired are you?”

“Not, actually.” Billy says, sounding amazed with himself.

“Ah, excellent! We have overcome that hurdle. I would like to do this again in a fortnight’s time.” Strange bows deeply to Billy, who copies the motion, bowing back. In a swirl of cloak, Strange is gone, and Billy is running over to where Teddy is sitting on the ground, still amazed. Damn, his boyfriend is powerful. And hot. Excessively hot, especially because he’s that powerful.

“Oh my god I am so sorry, I told you to stay back, and I was afraid you were going to be Mr. Macho and run headlong into it and get hurt you idiot, are you alright?” Billy says in one breath as he runs over to where Teddy is, falling to his knees in front of the other man.

Teddy, however, just reaches forward, pulls Billy into his lap and kisses him. Rather intently. And with a lot of tongue.

“I take – this means – you’re –ok?” Billy asks around kisses. Teddy just nods, way too busy to even try speaking at the moment. He can feel the charge on Billy’s skin still, and damn if it doesn’t turn him on that much more. He makes some noise at the back of his throat that could be a growl and stops playing tonsil hokey long enough to get Billy’s shirt off over his head, leaving his hair even more of a mess than it was. Teddy bites Billy’s bottom lip, earns a moan, kisses down along his jaw line, the five-day scruff that Billy’s got going on is rough against his mouth.

Billy places his palms against Teddy’s chest, pushes him back against the rooftop, and Teddy can feel a tiny bit of energy crackle between Billy’s fingers, right through his shirt.

“Oh wow.” Teddy breathes huskily. “Have I mentioned how hot you are? How hot your powers are? Do that again, would you?”

Billy laughs against Teddy’s ear, nips at it, pulls his shirt off.

And then the moment is totally ruined by someone clearing their throat behind them.

“I see all sorts of magic explosions and your lighting and shit, and panic like a good best friend, and rush over here, just to find you two macking on each other? Please tell me all that lightning I just saw is not what happens when you orgasm.”

Kate Bishop is standing, in full costume, complete with bow and arrows and a scowl, on the edge of the roof. And so is –

“Ohhhhh man.” Teddy says, dragging out the ‘oh’.

“Oh Jesus Allah Ra Buddha Shiva.” Billy squeaks. They are never going to live this one down. Ever. Never, ever, ever.

While Kate has most certainly caught them doing worse, the person next to her has not.

“You brought Iron Man?” Teddy’s voice pitches so high in horror it cracks.

“I’m kind of shit against magic attacks, moron.” Kate grouses, looking none too pleased about the whole situation. Tony, on the other hand, is simply standing next to her, any emotion that might be going on hidden by the faceplate.

“You two are fine, I take it?” The metallic voice asks, and both Billy and Teddy just nod dumbly.

“Sorry for the panic call.” Kate sighs in Tony’s direction.

“It’s fine.” He says before taking off with a roar, making Kate jump back a few inches to avoid the heat from the boots.

“Did he sound… off to you? I figured he’d be teasing you two horridly right about now.” Kate asks, still very obviously annoyed, as she steps down from the ledge of the roof. Billy opens his mouth to reply, and then something occurs to him, turns back to Teddy. Teddy’s got one scar on his whole body, thanks to the Warden at the Cube, on his stomach, that Teddy wears as a sort of war wound, never gets rid of it through his shapeshifting. It’s a puncture wound, where the Warden tried hardest to dissect Teddy, and somehow that scarred. Something about having just enough Kree and not quite enough Skrull in him to heal all scars naturally, if the wound is traumatic enough.

Billy places a hand over it, sighs.

“He must have seen your scar.” He muses softly.

“So what?” Teddy asks.

“Yeah, so what?” Kate asks, coming to sit down next to them, placing her bow across her lap. She takes off her sunglasses, perches them on her head.

“That’s where Cap got shot. Almost exactly. I’ve seen the photos.” Billy runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, sits back on his heels. Kate’s expression is hard to read, but Teddy’s isn’t. He looks very much like he himself has been shot.

“Guy can’t catch a break, can he?” He murmurs, pulling Billy into a hug. The three of them sit like that for a while, Teddy with his arms protectively around Billy, Kate staring glumly at her bow, before Wong comes up with his ever present tea tray, and sets it down without a word, not wanting to disturb them.

Kate gets up, eventually, and offers a meek good-bye before jumping off the roof in a move that reminds Billy very much of Daredevil.

“I’m getting rid of this scar.” Teddy says into Billy’s hair, and Billy, who hasn’t moved his hand, can feel Teddy’s skin shift under his palm until it’s smooth and unmarked.

“You don’t have to.” Billy mumbles.

“Yeah, I do. Unlike Stark, we can heal the past.”

“No one can heal the past. You can only look to the future.”


Part II.