cap_ironman_fe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2009-12-23 11:44 am
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2009-12-23 11:44 am
Happy Holidays, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kijikun!
Title: First Impressions
Author:marinarusalka
Rating: PG
Universe: MA
Spoilers: For issues 9-12 of MA:IM
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Tony
Word Count: approx. 4200
Beta: The ever-wonderfulmuccamukk
Summary: Written for the prompt: "Meet the Parents. Howard is alive after all, and Steve needs to meet him. Even if Tony doesn't want him to. "
"Hey, Steve?"
"Yes?" Steve looked up from the morning paper to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway, still dressed in the grease-stained jeans and t-shirt he usually wore in the lab. "If you want coffee, you'll have to make a new pot. I just finished it."
"Huh? No, I'm good." Tony ran one hand through his hair, which was already mussed and flopping into his eyes. "I just... you know how we were supposed to go to Cape Cod this weekend?"
"Uh-oh." Steve folded the paper shut. "I sense an excuse coming on."
"Kind of." Tony sighed. "Something's come up. So I was thinking maybe you could go up tomorrow night like we planned, and then I'd join you on Sunday."
In Tony's world, "something's come up" could mean anything from "imminent hostile takeover of Stark International" to "Galactus is about to eat the planet." The former was unlikely to happen over a weekend, however, while the latter would require both of them not going to Cape Cod. And Tony was looking nervous and shifty-eyed in a way that made Steve suspicious.
"Is something wrong, Tony?"
"No." Tony tugged at the hem of his shirt, then clasped his hands behind his back for a moment, then shoved them into his pockets. That was an awful lot of fidgeting, even by Tony's standards. "I have a... business meeting."
"On a Saturday?" Steve raised his eyebrows.
"Uhm. Yeah. That was the only time we could set it up for." Tony looked sheepish. "Sorry about the short notice."
"That's okay," Steve said. "But it's silly, me going without you and then you coming up for less than a day. Why don't we just pick another weekend?
"But we've been planning this for ages." Tony's eyes took on a slightly hunted look. "You should go. Really. Hang out at the cabin, take the boat out, murder some fish with baited hooks. Have fun."
It was almost funny, really. Tony could lie with perfect poise and confidence about things that didn't matter to him, but when he actually cared about something, he lost all finesse. And just then, he might as well have had a neon sign flashing "LIAR!" above his head. Steve folded his arms across his chest and glared in his best captainly manner.
"Okay, Shellhead, what's going on?"
"Nothing!" Tony said quickly. Steve kept glaring. After a minute or so, Tony sighed, slouched across the kitchen with the air of a sulky teenager, and sank into a chair across the table from Steve. "My father will be in town," he muttered.
Ah. That explained a lot. Howard Stark had been missing and generally presumed dead for twenty years before Tony had finally tracked him down in Africa a few months before. Apparently, the man had spent all that time doing humanitarian work, which Tony seemed to view as reason enough to forgive everything. Steve didn't feel quite so generous. Howard had mismanaged the family business to the brink of bankruptcy, then ran off like a coward and left Tony -- who'd been barely more than a child at the time -- to deal with the fallout. Steve supposed it was admirable that Howard had tried to redeem himself by helping others, but would it have killed him to take five minutes to pick up a phone and let his family know he was alive?
Well, irresponsible coward or not, he was still Tony's father. Time to be non-judgmental and supportive.
"...Only in town for the weekend," Tony was saying. "The dam project he was supervising in Africa is finished, and he's stopping over in New York on his way to Venezuela."
"So you'll have a chance to spend some time together." Steve grinned at him. "That's great."
"Yeah." Tony's answering smile looked a bit forced. "Terrific. So... we have a plan, right? You go up to Cape Cod, I'll have my dinner with Dad on Saturday and join you on Sunday. We're good."
And now they were right back to the flashing "LIAR!" sign. Steve frowned.
"Why are you so set on having me out of town?"
"I'm not!" Tony protested, not very convincingly. Steve continued to frown.
"I think I should meet him. After all, he's practically my father-in-law." And wow, wasn't that a strange thought. "Or is there some reason you don't want me there?"
"It's not that I don't want you there," Tony said quickly. "If anything, I could use the moral support. Except that, uhm, Dad doesn't actually know about you. About us, I mean."
"Oh." Steve felt stupid for not having considered the possibility. When Tony came back from Africa after finding Howard, he'd said that he and his father had spent several days "catching up," and Steve had assumed that the catching-up process would've included Tony telling his father about his personal life. "And you don't want him to know?" That stung. Tony had never shown any sign of being ashamed or embarrassed of their relationship before; then again, he'd never family to consider before, either.
"It's not like that," Tony sighed. "It's just... I never actually had the 'I like guys' talk with him. Hell, at the time he disappeared I hadn't even had that talk with myself yet. And when it comes right down to it, Dad and I are practically strangers. I have no idea what he'll think. What if he minds? What if I disappoint him? Again."
He hunched forward in his seat a bit, looking miserable. Steve reached across the table and rested one hand on his shoulder.
"You know what? If he thinks anything other than 'I have a great son and I'm happy that he's happy,' then he's an idiot. And I'll tell him so to his face if I need to."
"See?" Tony winced. "That's exactly why I think you should be in Cape Cod. You're going to pick a fight with him, aren't you?"
"Am not!" Steve sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest. Tony gave him a skeptical look.
"You don't like him."
"I've never met him."
"You still don't like him."
"Okay, fine." Steve rolled his eyes. "I don't like him. I don't like how he treated you. I think he was selfish and cowardly. But he's still your father and the only family you've got. I won't pick a fight with him."
"Right. You'll just tell him he's an idiot."
"Only if he actually is."
Tony smiled at him, and this time it actually looked genuine. "It might be worth it, just to see the look on his face. I could get Spider-Man to hang outside the window and take pictures." He chuckled softly and shook his head. "He remembers you, you know?"
"Spider-Man?"
"No, Dad. He was just a kid during World War Two, but apparently Captain America made a lasting impression. He was really excited when I told him I was on a team with you."
"Your father remembers me from when he was a kid." Steve breathed a theatrical sigh. "Great. Now I feel ancient."
"That's because you are." Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "Tell you what, old-timer: I'm planning to take Dad on a tour of Stark Tower in the afternoon, then dinner after. Why don't you join us at the restaurant? I'm pretty sure I'll have had more than my fill of father-son bonding by then. But you have to promise you won't pick a fight."
"I already told you--"
"Just promise me, okay?"
Steve sighed and leaned forward to give Tony a quick kiss. "I promise."
The more Steve thought about, the more he knew that simply not picking a fight wasn't going to be good enough. Tony was clearly desperate for Howard's good opinion. The tour of Stark Tower was more than just a way for father and son to while away an afternoon -- Tony was presenting the new, improved Stark International for his father's approval, the way he used to present his inventions when he was a boy. See, Dad? Look what I made. The dinner with Steve would serve a similar function, only then Tony would be seeking approval for something much more personal than his business skills or his engineering talent. Which meant that Steve absolutely had to make a good impression, for Tony's sake.
Steve arrived at the restaurant exactly on time, wearing his crispest button-down shirt and nicest sport jacket. Tony and Howard were there before him but hadn't been seated yet, so they couldn't have been waiting long. And yet, from the look on Howard Stark's face, one might've thought that they'd been standing around for hours. Howard's grey-streaked hair and weathered face gave a good indication of what Tony might look like in thirty years, but Steve sincerely hoped that Tony was never going to develop such a pinched, ill-tempered expression. His posture was stiff, almost military, and he somehow managed to make his khakis and tweed jacket look more formal than Tony's suit and tie.
"Dad, this is Steve Rogers," Tony said, then added "Captain America," as if he was worried that his father might not make the connection.
"Hello," Steve said, and Howard looked him up and down with an openly fascinated expression, as if Steve was a monument or a museum exhibit. Steve responded with what Tony called his "matinee-idol smile," the one he usually put on when it was time to explain to the press how it totally wasn't the Avengers' fault that the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center got stomped by giant robots.
"Captain America." Howard took Steve's outstretched hand and shook it. "Never thought I'd see you in this day and age. I was a great follower of your exploits as a boy."
"Thank you," Steve said politely. Howard continued to stare.
"You looked taller in the newsreels. I suppose it was the big screen. And of course, I was a lot smaller then myself."
Tony looked faintly mortified. Steve kept smiling. "I think it's the black and white," he said. "Everyone always looks larger than life in black and white."
"Yes." Howard looked amused. "That must be it."
"Have you told him yet?" Steve whispered to Tony as the hostess led them to their table.
"Haven't had a chance," Tony whispered back. He had a harassed air about him, the way he often did after a trying board meeting. "Honestly, I had trouble getting a word in edgewise."
Steve could easily believe it. Howard was talking a mile a minute, going on and on about the Captain America newsreels he'd seen as a kid, the Captain America war bonds poster he'd had in his room, the Captain America memorabilia he'd collected in the fifties... His voice carried, and other people in the restaurant were starting to turn and look. Tony was biting his lip. Steve took a deep breath and put on his best company manners as he took his seat at their table.
"--until Anthony found it all in the attic when he was ten," Howard rambled on. "I think he loved all that old wartime junk more than I did. Had that bonds poster on his wall until he went away to MIT."
"It was colorful," Tony muttered, blushing furiously. Steve suppressed a smile.
"So," he said quickly when Howard paused for breath, "how did you enjoy your tour of Stark Tower?"
Howard blinked as if startled by the interruption, but recovered and shifted topics gracefully enough.
"It was... impressive." He sounded faintly disgruntled at having to be impressed. "All the new technologies being developed... I suppose it does make a difference to have an engineer running the business."
It wasn't exactly effusive praise, but Tony looked pleased to hear it, so Steve smiled too.
Unfortunately, their waiter chose that moment to show up to take their wine order. This pulled Tony away from the conversation for a minute, and by the time he was done ordering, Howard's focus had shifted back to his Captain America fixation. Steve found himself fielding a rapid series of questions about everything from his hobbies to his taste in books and art to his political opinions. It was a little overwhelming. The last time Steve was grilled like this, he was getting his security clearance prior to being approved for Project Rebirth.
He made several half-hearted attempts to change the topic to something more general, but it seemed that Howard Stark's attention, once fixed, was not to be diverted. Which, now that Steve thought about it, had to be some sort of hereditary Stark trait. Steve kept his smile in place, answered every question politely, made an occasional joke. He was pretty sure he was making a good impression. At least, Howard lost some of that sourpuss look and began to relax a little.
Steve would've counted the conversation a complete success if only he could find a way to bring Tony into it. Unfortunately, Howard was so wrapped in his quest to discover every minutiae of Captain America's life that he seemed to have forgotten that the real purpose of the evening was for him to catch up with his son. And Tony, judging by his tight-lipped expression, was feeling the slight. It made Steve's smile slip a little, but Howard showed no sign of noticing.
The waiter returned with their wine and poured a small amount into Tony's glass for tasting. The fact that it was Tony's glass was lost on Howard, who reached for it at the same time as Tony did. He was faster than Tony, but also clumsier -- his hand smacked the glass and sent it tipping over to spill a bright splash of red wine into Tony's lap.
"Hey!" Tony tried to blot the spillage with his napkin, but by then the stain had already spread across his shirt and trousers. "Excuse me," he muttered, and made a beeline for the restroom. Howard waited until he was out of sight before turning back to Steve with a smug expression.
"There," he said, "that should get him out of the way for a few minutes. Now we can finally have a proper talk."
"Wait." Steve blinked at him. "You mean you did that on purpose?"
Howard flicked one hand in a quick, dismissive wave. "You don't have to get so worked up about it. It's not as if Anthony can't afford the cleaning bill."
"That's not the point," Steve said.
"No, it's not." Howard leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table and fixed Steve with a hard glare. "The point is, Captain, what are your intentions toward my son?"
Steve sputtered into his water glass. "My wha--"
"And I want a proper answer this time. I've had enough of you trying to butter me up."
"Excuse me?" Steve drew himself up, outraged. "I was not trying to--"
"You think I don't see what you're doing? That aw-shucks manner, and calling me 'sir,' and grinning like a recruitment poster the whole time? I ran a multi-billion dollar corporation for years; believe me, I've been flattered by the best. Usually just before they screwed me over. Now, you're in no position to do me any harm, but my son is another matter."
Steve felt his face grow hot. The idea that he would deliberately hurt Tony was even more offensive than the idea that he was some sort of sycophant. "I would never--"
"It's blindingly obvious." Howard continued to glare. "Anthony is in love with you. If you could hear the way he talks about you when you're not there... Well, it's probably just as well that you can't; I'm sure you have enough people around to feed your ego. In any case, Tony hasn't said anything about it, but I assume you two are in some sort of relationship."
"I don't think," Steve said, "that we should be discussing this without Tony."
"I know you're a hero," Howard went on as if Steve hadn't spoken. "And based on what I've heard today, you and Anthony have a lot in common. But--"
"Hold on." Steve stared at him. "Is that what all the third degree has been about? You trying to decide if I'm... what... good enough for Tony?"
"No." Howard shook his head. "Not good enough for him. Good enough to him. Look, I know I was wrong when I ran out on my family. But Anthony was young and resilient then, and he had his mother with him. I knew he could survive and move on without me. But it's different now. With you, I'm not so sure he could move on."
"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said. "And you have a lot of nerve to--"
Sirens blared outside, accompanied by a scattered crackle of gunfire. The restaurant's front windows burst inward, sending the diners at nearby tables diving to the floor. A bulky gray shape barreled in from the street, rolled across the floor, then sprang to its feet. It looked like a walking granite statue holding a large metal box under one arm. Paul Pierre Duval, aka the Grey Gargoyle, clearly up to no good.
This, Steve thought as he leaped to his feet, was what he and Tony got for trying to have a normal civilian social outing. He didn't have his shield, Tony didn't have the armor, so of course a supervillain had to show up.
"Everyone stay back!" Steve yelled, and grabbed a tray from the nearest waiter, muttering a quick "sorry" as what was probably several hundred dollars' worth of food and chinaware cascaded to the floor. Duval was half-way across the restaurant by then, presumably heading for the service door at the back. Steve spun toward him and threw the tray at his legs. It was much too light to make an effective weapon, and the balance was all wrong, but the range was too close to miss. Steve put all his strength behind the throw, and the impact was enough to make Duval drop his box of loot and topple to the floor.
Steve jumped on top of him, using one knee to keep Duval's right arm pinned. Duval wasn't wearing gloves, and even a glancing touch from his right hand could turn a man to stone. The effects only lasted an hour, but that was more than long enough for Duval to get away, and Steve had no intention of letting that happen. Unfortunately, Duval was in his stone Gargoyle form, which was going to make it hard to keep him down.
There was a chair just within reach. Steve grabbed it and smashed it over Duval's head, but all that got him was a broken chair. He looked around for another weapon, but there was nothing suitable close by. He did see Tony, though, making a mad dash from the restroom to the kitchen.
"Anthony!" Howard Stark sounded deeply outraged, and not at all frightened at having his dinner disrupted by a supervillain attack. "Where do you think you're going? Some hero you are, running from a fight!"
"Shut up!" Steve hissed. Tony must have some sort of plan, he always did. Steve had no idea what it might be, but he did know that it would go better if Duval didn't know that there was another superhero in the restaurant with him.
Duval bucked and twisted, trying to get free. He didn't quite manage it, but he did wrench his arm out from under Steve's knee. He took a quick backward swipe, and Steve was forced to jump out of reach. Duval sprang to his feet and began to slowly back toward the box he'd dropped earlier. He seemed more interested in getting away with his loot than actually fighting.
"Oh no, you don't!" Howard threw himself forward in a flying tackle.
"Stay back!" Steve yelled. "He'll turn you--"
Too late. Duval turned toward the new threat, flung his hand out, and suddenly there was a big Howard Stark-shaped rock in the place where Howard Stark had been a moment before.
"--To stone for an hour," Steve finished wearily. It seemed that Tony's tendency to leap into danger without thinking was also a hereditary trait.
There was no time to worry about Howard, though. Steve planted a kick in the middle of Duval's chest, ducked under a return blow, looked around for a weapon again--
"Hey, ugly!" That was Tony's voice, yelling from somewhere behind Duval. "Over here!"
Steve really hoped that was part of a plan and not just Tony randomly yelling at a guy whose touch turned people to stone, but there was no time to worry about that, either. He threw a punch, then another kick, then had to throw himself to the floor in order to avoid becoming a statue himself. As he dropped, he could hear Tony yelling again, then Duval roaring in anger.
Steve rolled to his feet in time to see Tony jump out of range as Duval flailed at him with both arms. There was something encasing Duval's right hand now, a stone cylinder about the size of his head.
"There!" Tony called out. "He can't touch anything now. One... two..."
"Three!" Steve leaped at the same time Tony did, and they tackled Duval together, bearing him down to the floor. He still put up a fight, but between the two of them they were able to keep him pinned.
"Look," Tony said, "reinforcements are here." Men and women in SHIELD uniforms were pouring in through the door and the broken window, guns at the ready. "Perfect timing as usual, guys."
"We'll take over from here, Mr. Stark." One of the agents fired some sort of taser-like contraption at Duval, encasing him in a pale blue shimmer of energy.
"Hey, I know that gadget," Tony said. "Portable containment field. Some of my best work." He got up, glanced around the wrecked restaurant and winced. "Damn. We're never going to get a reservation here again, are we?"
"Let me get this straight," Steve said, "you defeated the Grey Gargoyle with marzipan."
"Almond paste," Tony corrected. "Not that I know the difference, but the pastry chef seemed to think it's very important."
"That's not the point." Steve rolled his eyes. "The point is, you defeated a supervillain with dessert."
Tony tried, not very successfully, to look modest. "Duval turns things to stone with a touch. I just needed to get him to punch something with the right consistency, so that when it turned to stone--"
"His hand would be trapped." Steve nodded. "Smart."
"Hear that, Dad?" Tony grinned. "Captain America thinks I'm smart."
Howard made no reply, still being a statue. Steve and Tony had moved him to a back room the restaurant used for private parties, and were waiting out the transformation in relative privacy while SHIELD and the NYPD were taking care of business out front. Duval was in custody, and the police had taken possession of the metal box, which had turned out to contain a diamond shipment stolen from the jewelry district earlier. According to Steve's watch, they still had about fifteen minutes to go before the Gargoyle's touch wore off. Steve felt a little bad for thinking that this was the most pleasant stretch of time he'd spent in Howard Stark's company so far.
"Can he actually hear us?" Steve asked.
Tony shrugged. "I have no idea. Would be nice if he could. Then again, with my luck, he's been unconscious this whole time and will wake up thinking I spent the entire fight hiding in the kitchen like a big wuss."
"I'm sure he'll think nothing of the kind," Steve said. "And if he does, we can just tell him what really happened."
"You mean you could tell him," Tony muttered. "He actually listens when you talk."
"Oh, I don't know," Steve said, "I think he might listen to you more than you think he does."
"I doubt it." Tony stared down at his feet until Steve cupped one hand under his chin and tilted his face up so that their eyes met.
"He knows about us," Steve said. Tony's eyes went wide.
"He does?"
"Uh-huh. Apparently he figured it out just from hearing you talk about me. Confronted me about it while you were in the restroom." Steve couldn't entirely hide his amusement, both at the memory of the conversation and at Tony's dumbfounded expression. "He was worried I wouldn't be good to you. Wanted to know my intentions ."
"You're kidding." Tony stared at him with a stunned look, then abruptly turned and aimed an affronted scowl at Howard's petrified form. "What the hell, Dad, why couldn't you just say something when it was just the two of us talking?"
"Uh-huh." Steve rolled his eyes. "Because talking honestly and openly about your feelings is such a well-known Stark family trait."
"Good point." Tony gave Steve a small, rueful smile that slowly shifted into a wicked smirk. "So, now that you mention it... what are your intentions toward me?"
"I'm not sure I want to say in front of your father." Steve did his best to match Tony's expression. "But I assure you, they're entirely dishonorable."
Tony started to lean toward him, then stopped, face going faintly pink.
"Hang on." He pulled the table cloth off the nearest table and draped it over Howard's stone head with a flourish. "There. Just in case. Now..." He hooked two fingers inside Steve's shirt collar and pulled him close. "About those dishonorable intentions..."
Author:
marinarusalkaRating: PG
Universe: MA
Spoilers: For issues 9-12 of MA:IM
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Tony
Word Count: approx. 4200
Beta: The ever-wonderful
muccamukkSummary: Written for the prompt: "Meet the Parents. Howard is alive after all, and Steve needs to meet him. Even if Tony doesn't want him to. "
"Hey, Steve?"
"Yes?" Steve looked up from the morning paper to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway, still dressed in the grease-stained jeans and t-shirt he usually wore in the lab. "If you want coffee, you'll have to make a new pot. I just finished it."
"Huh? No, I'm good." Tony ran one hand through his hair, which was already mussed and flopping into his eyes. "I just... you know how we were supposed to go to Cape Cod this weekend?"
"Uh-oh." Steve folded the paper shut. "I sense an excuse coming on."
"Kind of." Tony sighed. "Something's come up. So I was thinking maybe you could go up tomorrow night like we planned, and then I'd join you on Sunday."
In Tony's world, "something's come up" could mean anything from "imminent hostile takeover of Stark International" to "Galactus is about to eat the planet." The former was unlikely to happen over a weekend, however, while the latter would require both of them not going to Cape Cod. And Tony was looking nervous and shifty-eyed in a way that made Steve suspicious.
"Is something wrong, Tony?"
"No." Tony tugged at the hem of his shirt, then clasped his hands behind his back for a moment, then shoved them into his pockets. That was an awful lot of fidgeting, even by Tony's standards. "I have a... business meeting."
"On a Saturday?" Steve raised his eyebrows.
"Uhm. Yeah. That was the only time we could set it up for." Tony looked sheepish. "Sorry about the short notice."
"That's okay," Steve said. "But it's silly, me going without you and then you coming up for less than a day. Why don't we just pick another weekend?
"But we've been planning this for ages." Tony's eyes took on a slightly hunted look. "You should go. Really. Hang out at the cabin, take the boat out, murder some fish with baited hooks. Have fun."
It was almost funny, really. Tony could lie with perfect poise and confidence about things that didn't matter to him, but when he actually cared about something, he lost all finesse. And just then, he might as well have had a neon sign flashing "LIAR!" above his head. Steve folded his arms across his chest and glared in his best captainly manner.
"Okay, Shellhead, what's going on?"
"Nothing!" Tony said quickly. Steve kept glaring. After a minute or so, Tony sighed, slouched across the kitchen with the air of a sulky teenager, and sank into a chair across the table from Steve. "My father will be in town," he muttered.
Ah. That explained a lot. Howard Stark had been missing and generally presumed dead for twenty years before Tony had finally tracked him down in Africa a few months before. Apparently, the man had spent all that time doing humanitarian work, which Tony seemed to view as reason enough to forgive everything. Steve didn't feel quite so generous. Howard had mismanaged the family business to the brink of bankruptcy, then ran off like a coward and left Tony -- who'd been barely more than a child at the time -- to deal with the fallout. Steve supposed it was admirable that Howard had tried to redeem himself by helping others, but would it have killed him to take five minutes to pick up a phone and let his family know he was alive?
Well, irresponsible coward or not, he was still Tony's father. Time to be non-judgmental and supportive.
"...Only in town for the weekend," Tony was saying. "The dam project he was supervising in Africa is finished, and he's stopping over in New York on his way to Venezuela."
"So you'll have a chance to spend some time together." Steve grinned at him. "That's great."
"Yeah." Tony's answering smile looked a bit forced. "Terrific. So... we have a plan, right? You go up to Cape Cod, I'll have my dinner with Dad on Saturday and join you on Sunday. We're good."
And now they were right back to the flashing "LIAR!" sign. Steve frowned.
"Why are you so set on having me out of town?"
"I'm not!" Tony protested, not very convincingly. Steve continued to frown.
"I think I should meet him. After all, he's practically my father-in-law." And wow, wasn't that a strange thought. "Or is there some reason you don't want me there?"
"It's not that I don't want you there," Tony said quickly. "If anything, I could use the moral support. Except that, uhm, Dad doesn't actually know about you. About us, I mean."
"Oh." Steve felt stupid for not having considered the possibility. When Tony came back from Africa after finding Howard, he'd said that he and his father had spent several days "catching up," and Steve had assumed that the catching-up process would've included Tony telling his father about his personal life. "And you don't want him to know?" That stung. Tony had never shown any sign of being ashamed or embarrassed of their relationship before; then again, he'd never family to consider before, either.
"It's not like that," Tony sighed. "It's just... I never actually had the 'I like guys' talk with him. Hell, at the time he disappeared I hadn't even had that talk with myself yet. And when it comes right down to it, Dad and I are practically strangers. I have no idea what he'll think. What if he minds? What if I disappoint him? Again."
He hunched forward in his seat a bit, looking miserable. Steve reached across the table and rested one hand on his shoulder.
"You know what? If he thinks anything other than 'I have a great son and I'm happy that he's happy,' then he's an idiot. And I'll tell him so to his face if I need to."
"See?" Tony winced. "That's exactly why I think you should be in Cape Cod. You're going to pick a fight with him, aren't you?"
"Am not!" Steve sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest. Tony gave him a skeptical look.
"You don't like him."
"I've never met him."
"You still don't like him."
"Okay, fine." Steve rolled his eyes. "I don't like him. I don't like how he treated you. I think he was selfish and cowardly. But he's still your father and the only family you've got. I won't pick a fight with him."
"Right. You'll just tell him he's an idiot."
"Only if he actually is."
Tony smiled at him, and this time it actually looked genuine. "It might be worth it, just to see the look on his face. I could get Spider-Man to hang outside the window and take pictures." He chuckled softly and shook his head. "He remembers you, you know?"
"Spider-Man?"
"No, Dad. He was just a kid during World War Two, but apparently Captain America made a lasting impression. He was really excited when I told him I was on a team with you."
"Your father remembers me from when he was a kid." Steve breathed a theatrical sigh. "Great. Now I feel ancient."
"That's because you are." Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "Tell you what, old-timer: I'm planning to take Dad on a tour of Stark Tower in the afternoon, then dinner after. Why don't you join us at the restaurant? I'm pretty sure I'll have had more than my fill of father-son bonding by then. But you have to promise you won't pick a fight."
"I already told you--"
"Just promise me, okay?"
Steve sighed and leaned forward to give Tony a quick kiss. "I promise."
The more Steve thought about, the more he knew that simply not picking a fight wasn't going to be good enough. Tony was clearly desperate for Howard's good opinion. The tour of Stark Tower was more than just a way for father and son to while away an afternoon -- Tony was presenting the new, improved Stark International for his father's approval, the way he used to present his inventions when he was a boy. See, Dad? Look what I made. The dinner with Steve would serve a similar function, only then Tony would be seeking approval for something much more personal than his business skills or his engineering talent. Which meant that Steve absolutely had to make a good impression, for Tony's sake.
Steve arrived at the restaurant exactly on time, wearing his crispest button-down shirt and nicest sport jacket. Tony and Howard were there before him but hadn't been seated yet, so they couldn't have been waiting long. And yet, from the look on Howard Stark's face, one might've thought that they'd been standing around for hours. Howard's grey-streaked hair and weathered face gave a good indication of what Tony might look like in thirty years, but Steve sincerely hoped that Tony was never going to develop such a pinched, ill-tempered expression. His posture was stiff, almost military, and he somehow managed to make his khakis and tweed jacket look more formal than Tony's suit and tie.
"Dad, this is Steve Rogers," Tony said, then added "Captain America," as if he was worried that his father might not make the connection.
"Hello," Steve said, and Howard looked him up and down with an openly fascinated expression, as if Steve was a monument or a museum exhibit. Steve responded with what Tony called his "matinee-idol smile," the one he usually put on when it was time to explain to the press how it totally wasn't the Avengers' fault that the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center got stomped by giant robots.
"Captain America." Howard took Steve's outstretched hand and shook it. "Never thought I'd see you in this day and age. I was a great follower of your exploits as a boy."
"Thank you," Steve said politely. Howard continued to stare.
"You looked taller in the newsreels. I suppose it was the big screen. And of course, I was a lot smaller then myself."
Tony looked faintly mortified. Steve kept smiling. "I think it's the black and white," he said. "Everyone always looks larger than life in black and white."
"Yes." Howard looked amused. "That must be it."
"Have you told him yet?" Steve whispered to Tony as the hostess led them to their table.
"Haven't had a chance," Tony whispered back. He had a harassed air about him, the way he often did after a trying board meeting. "Honestly, I had trouble getting a word in edgewise."
Steve could easily believe it. Howard was talking a mile a minute, going on and on about the Captain America newsreels he'd seen as a kid, the Captain America war bonds poster he'd had in his room, the Captain America memorabilia he'd collected in the fifties... His voice carried, and other people in the restaurant were starting to turn and look. Tony was biting his lip. Steve took a deep breath and put on his best company manners as he took his seat at their table.
"--until Anthony found it all in the attic when he was ten," Howard rambled on. "I think he loved all that old wartime junk more than I did. Had that bonds poster on his wall until he went away to MIT."
"It was colorful," Tony muttered, blushing furiously. Steve suppressed a smile.
"So," he said quickly when Howard paused for breath, "how did you enjoy your tour of Stark Tower?"
Howard blinked as if startled by the interruption, but recovered and shifted topics gracefully enough.
"It was... impressive." He sounded faintly disgruntled at having to be impressed. "All the new technologies being developed... I suppose it does make a difference to have an engineer running the business."
It wasn't exactly effusive praise, but Tony looked pleased to hear it, so Steve smiled too.
Unfortunately, their waiter chose that moment to show up to take their wine order. This pulled Tony away from the conversation for a minute, and by the time he was done ordering, Howard's focus had shifted back to his Captain America fixation. Steve found himself fielding a rapid series of questions about everything from his hobbies to his taste in books and art to his political opinions. It was a little overwhelming. The last time Steve was grilled like this, he was getting his security clearance prior to being approved for Project Rebirth.
He made several half-hearted attempts to change the topic to something more general, but it seemed that Howard Stark's attention, once fixed, was not to be diverted. Which, now that Steve thought about it, had to be some sort of hereditary Stark trait. Steve kept his smile in place, answered every question politely, made an occasional joke. He was pretty sure he was making a good impression. At least, Howard lost some of that sourpuss look and began to relax a little.
Steve would've counted the conversation a complete success if only he could find a way to bring Tony into it. Unfortunately, Howard was so wrapped in his quest to discover every minutiae of Captain America's life that he seemed to have forgotten that the real purpose of the evening was for him to catch up with his son. And Tony, judging by his tight-lipped expression, was feeling the slight. It made Steve's smile slip a little, but Howard showed no sign of noticing.
The waiter returned with their wine and poured a small amount into Tony's glass for tasting. The fact that it was Tony's glass was lost on Howard, who reached for it at the same time as Tony did. He was faster than Tony, but also clumsier -- his hand smacked the glass and sent it tipping over to spill a bright splash of red wine into Tony's lap.
"Hey!" Tony tried to blot the spillage with his napkin, but by then the stain had already spread across his shirt and trousers. "Excuse me," he muttered, and made a beeline for the restroom. Howard waited until he was out of sight before turning back to Steve with a smug expression.
"There," he said, "that should get him out of the way for a few minutes. Now we can finally have a proper talk."
"Wait." Steve blinked at him. "You mean you did that on purpose?"
Howard flicked one hand in a quick, dismissive wave. "You don't have to get so worked up about it. It's not as if Anthony can't afford the cleaning bill."
"That's not the point," Steve said.
"No, it's not." Howard leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table and fixed Steve with a hard glare. "The point is, Captain, what are your intentions toward my son?"
Steve sputtered into his water glass. "My wha--"
"And I want a proper answer this time. I've had enough of you trying to butter me up."
"Excuse me?" Steve drew himself up, outraged. "I was not trying to--"
"You think I don't see what you're doing? That aw-shucks manner, and calling me 'sir,' and grinning like a recruitment poster the whole time? I ran a multi-billion dollar corporation for years; believe me, I've been flattered by the best. Usually just before they screwed me over. Now, you're in no position to do me any harm, but my son is another matter."
Steve felt his face grow hot. The idea that he would deliberately hurt Tony was even more offensive than the idea that he was some sort of sycophant. "I would never--"
"It's blindingly obvious." Howard continued to glare. "Anthony is in love with you. If you could hear the way he talks about you when you're not there... Well, it's probably just as well that you can't; I'm sure you have enough people around to feed your ego. In any case, Tony hasn't said anything about it, but I assume you two are in some sort of relationship."
"I don't think," Steve said, "that we should be discussing this without Tony."
"I know you're a hero," Howard went on as if Steve hadn't spoken. "And based on what I've heard today, you and Anthony have a lot in common. But--"
"Hold on." Steve stared at him. "Is that what all the third degree has been about? You trying to decide if I'm... what... good enough for Tony?"
"No." Howard shook his head. "Not good enough for him. Good enough to him. Look, I know I was wrong when I ran out on my family. But Anthony was young and resilient then, and he had his mother with him. I knew he could survive and move on without me. But it's different now. With you, I'm not so sure he could move on."
"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said. "And you have a lot of nerve to--"
Sirens blared outside, accompanied by a scattered crackle of gunfire. The restaurant's front windows burst inward, sending the diners at nearby tables diving to the floor. A bulky gray shape barreled in from the street, rolled across the floor, then sprang to its feet. It looked like a walking granite statue holding a large metal box under one arm. Paul Pierre Duval, aka the Grey Gargoyle, clearly up to no good.
This, Steve thought as he leaped to his feet, was what he and Tony got for trying to have a normal civilian social outing. He didn't have his shield, Tony didn't have the armor, so of course a supervillain had to show up.
"Everyone stay back!" Steve yelled, and grabbed a tray from the nearest waiter, muttering a quick "sorry" as what was probably several hundred dollars' worth of food and chinaware cascaded to the floor. Duval was half-way across the restaurant by then, presumably heading for the service door at the back. Steve spun toward him and threw the tray at his legs. It was much too light to make an effective weapon, and the balance was all wrong, but the range was too close to miss. Steve put all his strength behind the throw, and the impact was enough to make Duval drop his box of loot and topple to the floor.
Steve jumped on top of him, using one knee to keep Duval's right arm pinned. Duval wasn't wearing gloves, and even a glancing touch from his right hand could turn a man to stone. The effects only lasted an hour, but that was more than long enough for Duval to get away, and Steve had no intention of letting that happen. Unfortunately, Duval was in his stone Gargoyle form, which was going to make it hard to keep him down.
There was a chair just within reach. Steve grabbed it and smashed it over Duval's head, but all that got him was a broken chair. He looked around for another weapon, but there was nothing suitable close by. He did see Tony, though, making a mad dash from the restroom to the kitchen.
"Anthony!" Howard Stark sounded deeply outraged, and not at all frightened at having his dinner disrupted by a supervillain attack. "Where do you think you're going? Some hero you are, running from a fight!"
"Shut up!" Steve hissed. Tony must have some sort of plan, he always did. Steve had no idea what it might be, but he did know that it would go better if Duval didn't know that there was another superhero in the restaurant with him.
Duval bucked and twisted, trying to get free. He didn't quite manage it, but he did wrench his arm out from under Steve's knee. He took a quick backward swipe, and Steve was forced to jump out of reach. Duval sprang to his feet and began to slowly back toward the box he'd dropped earlier. He seemed more interested in getting away with his loot than actually fighting.
"Oh no, you don't!" Howard threw himself forward in a flying tackle.
"Stay back!" Steve yelled. "He'll turn you--"
Too late. Duval turned toward the new threat, flung his hand out, and suddenly there was a big Howard Stark-shaped rock in the place where Howard Stark had been a moment before.
"--To stone for an hour," Steve finished wearily. It seemed that Tony's tendency to leap into danger without thinking was also a hereditary trait.
There was no time to worry about Howard, though. Steve planted a kick in the middle of Duval's chest, ducked under a return blow, looked around for a weapon again--
"Hey, ugly!" That was Tony's voice, yelling from somewhere behind Duval. "Over here!"
Steve really hoped that was part of a plan and not just Tony randomly yelling at a guy whose touch turned people to stone, but there was no time to worry about that, either. He threw a punch, then another kick, then had to throw himself to the floor in order to avoid becoming a statue himself. As he dropped, he could hear Tony yelling again, then Duval roaring in anger.
Steve rolled to his feet in time to see Tony jump out of range as Duval flailed at him with both arms. There was something encasing Duval's right hand now, a stone cylinder about the size of his head.
"There!" Tony called out. "He can't touch anything now. One... two..."
"Three!" Steve leaped at the same time Tony did, and they tackled Duval together, bearing him down to the floor. He still put up a fight, but between the two of them they were able to keep him pinned.
"Look," Tony said, "reinforcements are here." Men and women in SHIELD uniforms were pouring in through the door and the broken window, guns at the ready. "Perfect timing as usual, guys."
"We'll take over from here, Mr. Stark." One of the agents fired some sort of taser-like contraption at Duval, encasing him in a pale blue shimmer of energy.
"Hey, I know that gadget," Tony said. "Portable containment field. Some of my best work." He got up, glanced around the wrecked restaurant and winced. "Damn. We're never going to get a reservation here again, are we?"
"Let me get this straight," Steve said, "you defeated the Grey Gargoyle with marzipan."
"Almond paste," Tony corrected. "Not that I know the difference, but the pastry chef seemed to think it's very important."
"That's not the point." Steve rolled his eyes. "The point is, you defeated a supervillain with dessert."
Tony tried, not very successfully, to look modest. "Duval turns things to stone with a touch. I just needed to get him to punch something with the right consistency, so that when it turned to stone--"
"His hand would be trapped." Steve nodded. "Smart."
"Hear that, Dad?" Tony grinned. "Captain America thinks I'm smart."
Howard made no reply, still being a statue. Steve and Tony had moved him to a back room the restaurant used for private parties, and were waiting out the transformation in relative privacy while SHIELD and the NYPD were taking care of business out front. Duval was in custody, and the police had taken possession of the metal box, which had turned out to contain a diamond shipment stolen from the jewelry district earlier. According to Steve's watch, they still had about fifteen minutes to go before the Gargoyle's touch wore off. Steve felt a little bad for thinking that this was the most pleasant stretch of time he'd spent in Howard Stark's company so far.
"Can he actually hear us?" Steve asked.
Tony shrugged. "I have no idea. Would be nice if he could. Then again, with my luck, he's been unconscious this whole time and will wake up thinking I spent the entire fight hiding in the kitchen like a big wuss."
"I'm sure he'll think nothing of the kind," Steve said. "And if he does, we can just tell him what really happened."
"You mean you could tell him," Tony muttered. "He actually listens when you talk."
"Oh, I don't know," Steve said, "I think he might listen to you more than you think he does."
"I doubt it." Tony stared down at his feet until Steve cupped one hand under his chin and tilted his face up so that their eyes met.
"He knows about us," Steve said. Tony's eyes went wide.
"He does?"
"Uh-huh. Apparently he figured it out just from hearing you talk about me. Confronted me about it while you were in the restroom." Steve couldn't entirely hide his amusement, both at the memory of the conversation and at Tony's dumbfounded expression. "He was worried I wouldn't be good to you. Wanted to know my intentions ."
"You're kidding." Tony stared at him with a stunned look, then abruptly turned and aimed an affronted scowl at Howard's petrified form. "What the hell, Dad, why couldn't you just say something when it was just the two of us talking?"
"Uh-huh." Steve rolled his eyes. "Because talking honestly and openly about your feelings is such a well-known Stark family trait."
"Good point." Tony gave Steve a small, rueful smile that slowly shifted into a wicked smirk. "So, now that you mention it... what are your intentions toward me?"
"I'm not sure I want to say in front of your father." Steve did his best to match Tony's expression. "But I assure you, they're entirely dishonorable."
Tony started to lean toward him, then stopped, face going faintly pink.
"Hang on." He pulled the table cloth off the nearest table and draped it over Howard's stone head with a flourish. "There. Just in case. Now..." He hooked two fingers inside Steve's shirt collar and pulled him close. "About those dishonorable intentions..."
no subject