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romanticatheart-posts · 6 years

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King Sized Revelations - Part 4

A surprise awaits Liam in his hotel suite in Switzerland! There is also a surprise guest for dinner at a local bar.

Pairing: Liam x MC Rating: NSFW

Master list

I have tagged some by request and others from re-blogs and likes. If you want to be removed or added, leave a comment. Pixelberry owns all characters except for the ones I created for the story. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: @umccall71 @3pawandme @indiacater @katurrade @lodberg @heatherfilliez @eadanga @missevabean @furiousherringoperatortoad @flowerpowell @cheeseedreams47 @tornbetween2loves @smalltalk88

Liam has just arrived back to the hotel suite after the summit meeting this evening and even though his dinner was waiting, he was quite annoyed that he could not reach the love of his life, that alone had diminished his appetite. Upon grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, he makes his way toward the bedroom and turning the corner he is met with the most beautiful sight he has ever seen…

"So, when were you planning to call me back?" "Catherine!"

He stops in his tracks and takes a step back, drawing in a sharp breath and begins choking on the apple he took a bite of just moments before.

"Kuh, Kuh, Kuh! "Liam!"

You slap at his back as he leans against the wall, his head on his arm, trying to catch his breath. You take the apple from his hand and throw it away. Within a few minutes, he stops coughing and the color returns to his face. You embrace him for a moment and he responds by pulling you tight to his chest as you melt in his arms.

"I'm so sorry Liam…" "No worries love... I was just taken back by your presence…" "I didn't mean to startle you… you could have choked on that Cordonian Ruby and it's all my fault."

Liam considers your words for a moment and throws his head back in laughter. You pull back glaring at him… clearly not amused.

"What?" "How can you laugh about this? People die from choking you know and I don't think the King of Cordonia is immune to such things." "I'm sorry love. You're right but I was just thinking how the headlines would read. 'A surprise visit from the Queen of Cordonia led to the choking of the king at the hands of a Cordonian Ruby in Switzerland.' You have to see the humor in it."

Your expression softens at the thought, and you can't keep a straight face. Suddenly you begin laughing as Liam joins you.

"It is pretty funny when you say it like that. I'm envisioning a gigantic red apple with arms and legs choking the King of Cordonia."

You both laugh again and then with your hands on his chest, Liam cups your cheek in one of his, a twinkle in his eyes.

"It pleases me to hear you laugh…it's music to my ears." "It's hard not to laugh when you put images in my head like that."

His smile brightens as he leans in dropping sweet kisses on your lips.

"I am very happy to see you by the way. You look beautiful as always." "I could hardly wait to see you." "So, how did you get the Chardonnay through customs?" "When I told them it was for the king, they couldn't refuse." "And when did you decide to make this trip?" "As soon as I woke up this morning." "Ah, this would explain why I couldn't reach you… or anyone else for that matter. I was beginning to get worried." "I didn't mean to worry you, but it was hectic after the brunch and I wanted to surprise you." "It is a most welcomed surprise."

He kisses your cheek and takes your hand as you both walk into the bedroom.

"You still haven't answered my question." "What question love?" "When were you going to call me back?" "After I changed clothes."

He walks over to the wardrobe sifting through his things and you sit on the bed, taking off your shoes.

"Oh. Were you planning a night out?" "I was going to slip into those lounge pants you packed for me. They look comfortable and then I was going to call you right after." "Do you want to change and then eat the dinner they left for you?" "Since there are two place settings on the table, I'm sure it's for both of us." "Well, I can get everything ready while you change."

He finds the lounge pants and drapes them across the bed near where you are sitting and then walks around, stopping in front of you.

"It's still early, and since you're here why don't we go out instead? There is a quaint little bar just down the street and from what I hear, they serve a delicious club sandwich." "A bar huh? Feeling a little… nostalgic?" "Maybe, but I wouldn't mind seeing more of the city with you, my love." "Actually, I haven't eaten since the brunch, and I'd like a night out with you." "It's settled then. I'll change into something a bit less conspicuous and maybe you should change into something less intriguing. I don't want any man observing you the same way as I do My Queen." "Why Liam… I didn't know you were the jealous type."

He places one hand on your cheek and the other grasping your side, his thumb tracing circles around your curve, as he peers down at your shirt.

"It's not jealousy per se… but the way your breasts are peeking through that blouse… wow… I have half a mind to skip dinner…" "Oh? See something you like?" "You could say that…"

You smile mischievously at him and then grab your breasts, shifting provocatively as Liam's eyes go wide and he groans in excitement.

"Oh, Catherine…" "What, these?" "You shouldn't tease me like that…" "Well, you said it yourself… it's only teasing if we stop…" "I did say that, didn't I?"

He grasps the bottom of your blouse and pulls it over your head, his wanton eyes sweeping your face and then move downward. His hands clutch your curves and his thumbs outline the nipples as you lean back allowing him full access. His lips bathing you in kisses as his hands move down to loosen the fastening of your pants. He travels beneath your underwear, gently pulling them around your derriere. With your arms around his neck you lift your body up and he slides the pants and underwear down until they both fall on the floor.

"Yours need to go too." "It would only be fair…"

He slips off his shoes and socks. Smiling at you, he begins removing his jacket and then his shirt while you work to remove his pants and underwear. He dips you slowly onto the bed with his hand on the small of your back, kissing you passionately and lays beside you. His lips warm against yours as his hand caresses your exposed body and then around your waist and under your backside, pulling you closer. Turning toward him, you wrap your leg around his waist as his fingers penetrate and his own desire is heightened by the moist heat seeping from your core. He moves his body over yours and soon you feel his heat inside you. He kisses you hard as your bodies move fluidly, like a flaming candle… slowly you reach your peak as he gradually increases the momentum...

"Ohh... Liam!" "My God, you feel good!"

His lips grazing across your cheek and down the curve of your neck... sending chills up and down your spine as you savor each movement of your bodies thrashing together. The intensity and heat of the moment sends your body into a frenzied spasm and only when he feels the tremors does he release inside you.

"Yes...Liam…" "Catherine…"

You hold each other until the trembling subsides. And when you've both caught your breath, Liam raises up smiling and kisses you tenderly. You run your hand across his cheek and into his hair as you gaze at each other for a long moment.

"You are so beautiful, Catherine." "I love you, Liam." "I love you too."

He kisses you again and then sighs.

"Shall we freshen up and get something to eat." "Okay."

He rolls out of bed and holds his hand out for you. Taking it, you both head to the bathroom to get cleaned up and dressed, then off to the bar just down the street from the hotel. Liam opens the door as you enter, and he follows close behind.

"You were right. This place is quaint." "I knew you'd like it. I just hope the food is as appealing as the atmosphere."

You find a cozy table in the corner and Liam pulls out your chair and once you are seated, he sits in the one across from you.

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you arrived tonight." "Aside from the choking incident, it's been enjoyable so far."

He winks at you and smiles. Just then, the server arrives with menus.

"Guten Abend, würden Sie sich um einen Drink kümmern, bevor Sie bestellen?" "Catherine, would you like a drink first." "Yes. Haben Sie etwas mit Prosecco?" "Wir Haben Tramonto, Hugo und Aperol Spritz." "Ich werde tramanto Bitte haben."

Liam smiles at you in amazement and then turns back to the server.

"Machen Sie, dass Zwei bitte." "Sicherlich." "I'm impressed, Catherine." "Don't be. I had two years of German in high school. Although the dialect here is a bit different, I'm surprised I still remembered." "Ich bin so ein glücklicher Mann." "Ich bin der glücklicher." "I'll have to introduce you to Ambassador Shults before we leave the summit tomorrow." "Is he the one you needed support from for your platform?" "Yes. He carries a lot of power at these kinds of events and a following of equal influence. I knew if I could get him on board, the others would follow. And I was right."

The server returns with your drinks and waits for you both to order. Liam looks to you.

"Club sandwiches?" "Sounds good." "Wir haben Zwei clubsandwiches bitte." "Sofort."

The server takes your menus and leaves to place your order.

"So, did I miss anything interesting at the brunch today?" "Your father gave a speech about how proud he was of you." "How did that go exactly?" "It was very touching. He said what I've known all along… Your ability to differentiate between politics and the needs of the people makes you the best king Cordonia has ever seen. Even better than himself." "I'm honored I suppose, but I couldn't do this without you, Catherine. You are the inspiration behind every decision." "Liam, maybe you didn't know it at the time, but you were ready for this long before I came along." "Well yes. I had all the proper training but that didn't mean I was prepared to take the reins for myself. You have taught me so many things Catherine, things the court never even knew existed. And before I met you, neither did I." "You shouldn't give me so much credit. You were pretty great to begin with."

Liam takes your hand from across the table and kisses it gently.

"I was just a title before I met you Catherine, but with you… I feel complete." "Aww... Liam."

The server returns with your sandwiches and fries. You each take a bite and relish the many assorted flavors.

"How does this compare to a club in America?" "It's different but still delicious. Eggs and coleslaw… who would have thought?" "It's like breakfast and lunch all rolled into one." "This bread is so fresh too."

You look around and see a couple of female patrons sitting at the bar. They are turned around looking in your direction and their gaze is on Liam. As soon as they see you watching, they turn back around. He doesn't even notice them. You smile. Liam is a very handsome man… six foot two, broad shoulders and his abs… God his abs are gorgeous… He glances at you and sees the smile on your face and he can't help but smile in return.

"What muse prompted that brilliant smile, my love?" "I was just thinking about you." "And what were you thinking exactly?" "Maybe I was thinking how handsome you are, or maybe I was thinking how Mara kicked your butt when we did that training exercise…" "Maybe I should refer to you as Queen Catherine the comedian?" "I like it."

Liam chuckles and takes a drink, but his gaze never strays from yours.

"Seriously though, what were you thinking about." "How those two gorgeous women at the bar are checking you out." "And that made you smile?" "I was smiling because you had no idea they were doing it." "Well don't look now but I think you have an admirer as well."

You look in the direction of Liam's eyes and follow them to an elderly gentleman sitting alone, sipping a cocktail and when he catches your stare, he holds up a glass to you as if toasting. You wave and smile, then turn back to Liam.

"It's hardly the same thing Liam." "I don't know, his eyes have been quite fixed on you since the moment we walked in." "Maybe I remind him of a long-lost love or something. Did you catch the grief on his face? Poor thing…" "He does seem quite burdened now that you mention it." "I wonder what his story is?" "Ahem...I don't know but we are about to find out. He's headed this way." "What?"

You keep your eyes on Liam and know the second the gentleman makes it to your table. Liam stands reaching his hand out and smiles as the gentleman shakes it cordially.

"Guten Abend" "No need for that. English is my first language. I moved here from America over twenty-five years ago." "Very well. Is there something we can help you with?" "May I sit?"

He gestures to the chair next to Liam. Liam looks to you.

"Yes, please have a seat Mister…?" "The name is Ely. Ely Stokes." "Alright Mr. Stokes, have a seat." "Just call me Ely. I don't do well with formalities." "Okay, Ely. What is on your mind?" "Well, it'd be nice to know your names too." "Oh, of course. I'm Liam and this is my lovely wife Catherine." "Catherine?" "…And Liam." "Oh yes. Catherine and Liam. No last names?" "That's not necessary… Now, what can we do for you, Ely?" "Well, I come here quite often...It's a good place for a man to come and unwind... and the food is not bad... but tonight..."

You and Liam look at each other curiously and then back to Ely.

"...when you both walked in, I knew you weren't locals by the accent. And I apologize for staring, but Catherine here bears a striking resemblance to my daughter. She passed away soon after giving birth..." "Oh, I'm so sorry…" "Thank you. It was many years ago, but when I saw you, it triggered my memory of her. I know it was rude, but I just couldn’t stop staring…" "Memories have a way of keeping us connected to lost loved ones." "I agree, but I can't imagine losing a child. It must have been hard for you." "Yes, it was..."

He smiles, looking off into the distance as if reliving a fond memory.

“... I remember how she could talk her way into or out of almost anything she put her mind to… and make it look easy at the same time. She also had a good heart… never hesitating to help people she thought was less fortunate than herself. Her mother and I used to joke that she’d end up as a humanitarian, traveling the world to help everyone in need. We couldn’t have asked for a better daughter, but sometimes she could be a little selfless.”

You and Liam look at each other a little perplexed by his candid revelation.

"So, you say I resemble her. Do you have a picture?" "It’s more than just a resemblance..."

Ely reaches for a wallet tucked inside his jacket and thumbs through several flaps of pictures. He stops on the one he was searching for and hands it to you.

"Oh my gosh! Liam, you have to see this." "This was taken a few years before she died. She was still in high school."

Liam gets up from the table and sits in the chair next to you. He views the picture with a profound expression and then his eyes go wide.

"If I didn't know better, I would insist this is a photograph of you Catherine!" "I know. The only difference is the hairstyle and she's a bit younger." "I hope you can see why I was staring. It's almost like I'm looking at her."

You have seen this photo before, or one like it. Both fear and excitement wash over you.

"Yeah, I see that... this is... can you tell me more about her? I mean if it’s not too painful…" "Well, her dream was to go to college after high school, but her mother and I didn’t have the funds… so she worked in a little diner and soon met this fella, Alex Beckham. She fell head over heels in love with him and they married soon after. He was a good man and good for Elizabeth, he adored her. They had a daughter nearly a year later and needless to say, we were all over the moon… it was like heaven in a blanket the first time I saw her. But, the bliss was short-lived… One night, Alex was rushing home to his family, and in the pouring rain he lost control… his car swerved right into the path of an oncoming semi… he was pronounced dead at the scene. It was after that when we found out Elizabeth was pregnant, she became very ill. I’m not sure if it was the infection that killed her or the insurmountable grief… but she died three months later… and the baby as well."

You suddenly turn pale and start shaking. You drop the wallet on the table as Liam puts his arms around you. Hearing the name Beckham, he is aware that there is more to this than either of you could have imagined. Your mind takes to back to a time when you were searching for something... roots, family ties... The names are not unfamiliar, nor is the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Catherine? What's wrong my love?"

You continue to stare at Ely in shock and disbelief as he takes the wallet from across the table, putting it back into his pocket.

"I'm sorry. I hope I didn’t upset you..."

His words trail off as Liam focuses solely on you. His hand stroking your back comfortingly as he turns to Ely and speaks respectfully but sternly.

"Would you give us a moment?" "Oh. Of course..." "No... Please, Liam, I do have a few questions..." "Are you sure you’re alright with this, Catherine?" "Yes. I... I really need some answers." "Alright my love. I'm right here."

You turn from Liam to Ely. Liam's eyes settle on you, he can't bear the pain on your face, but he recognizes your need for resolution. Once you have poised yourself, you turn to Ely.

"Mr. Stokes, as hard as it is to hear all of this, I know it must be harder for you to talk about… but can you tell me what happened to the baby?" "Well… if you’re sure it’s alright.” “Yes… I just want to know more…”

Ely looks to Liam who nods his consent. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“Immediately after Elizabeth's funeral, her mother and I brought the baby home with us. It was short lived though. Almost two weeks later, the state came and took her from us." "But why? Why would they do that?" "They found out that my wife and I were in the process of getting divorced when all of this came about and didn't want the child being raised in what they considered to be a volatile environment." "Was it?" "Not at all. In fact, it seemed that our relationship had begun to improve with baby Cat in the house. That's what we called her. It was short for Catherine. It didn't matter to the officials though, they were hell-bent on taking her. And that is exactly what they did. There was nothing we could do to stop it." "The baby's name was Catherine?" "Yes. After her great grandmother. Elizabeth and she were very close."

The picture becomes clearer… as does your determination. Liam sits quietly, listening as the story unfolds.

"Where did they take her exactly?" "We heard that an affluent couple wanted to adopt a newborn and had paid top dollar to make it happen. Once all the paperwork was taken care of, the only thing left was a background investigation, which revealed that the man had taken part in some sort of illegal activity, and ultimately put a stop to the adoption." "What happened then?" "She was in foster care for a while and then to an orphanage when they ran out of suitable foster parents. We were devastated." "You just left her there? Why didn't you fight to get her back?" "Maybe in today's society that would have been possible, but back then things were different. Grandparents didn’t have rights like they do today. I petitioned several state officials to no avail, and reluctantly I just quit trying when I ran out of funds… and then the divorce became finalized." "So you just gave up... Why did you end up in Switzerland of all places then?" "I'm ashamed to say it, but I just ran away. I had lost everything. My wife, my daughter, my grandchild… I thought that by moving around, I could erase the pain of having so much taken away… I went to France, Germany… and by the time I made it to Switzerland, I was tired of running. I’ve only been back to the states once since I left all those years ago... and that was for my wife’s funeral… I had to say good-bye…" "Did you try to find your granddaughter while you were there, or did you just leave as if she ever existed?" "I wanted to, but after all the years of being separated, I had resigned that it was for the best. What could an old man like me offer her? I've never gotten over it, but I had to make myself believe she was taken into a loving home... and that she was happy and content... It was the only way I could keep from going insane. When I saw you walk in tonight, it all came flooding back…"

“You did have something to offer her… a grandfather…”

You study Ely for a moment and you see a pained and tortured soul. Years of grief shone on his face but there is a hint of hope. You turn to Liam and in his eyes, you find a loving comfort and peace.

"I am here my love... whatever you need."

Thanks for reading! Your comments are welcomed!

Part 5 will be posted this weekend!

#theroyalromance #kingliam #playchoices

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kurowrites · 7 years

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The Second Time Around

Okay so I’m really sorry, since I completely butchered this prompt. Originally, @mind-the-wicked wished for a “Hocus Pocus AU only instead of reviving evil witches, Tony revives Steve” and GUESS WHAT I DID? A vaguely Hocus Pocus-inspired AU in which Steve revives Tony. There is a lot of handwaving involved as far as timelines and customs go, so please bear with me. It made sense at the time. I don’t know.

[cries]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: One Tony was harmed in the making of this fic, but when is it ever different. Otherwise, no warnings.

Word count: just shy of 4900 words

Honestly speaking, Steve’s mother had taught him better. They were Irish, after all, and if there was one thing that they had taken with them on the long way from Ireland to the new world, it was their superstitions and beliefs.

So lighting up that highly suspicious candle during a full moon on Hallowe’en? A terrible idea, no matter how you looked at it. It was something he would never do, usually, the stories that he had been told as a boy far too ingrained into his being to even consider it.

But tonight, apparently, wasn’t ‘usually,’ and so he ended up doing exactly that: lighting a highly suspicious candle during a full moon on Hallowe’en. It has somehow made sense at the time. It had been very dark in the building, after all, and there had been no light at all, so a crummy old candle seemed to be just what he needed. He hated having to admit that after the fact, but he didn’t think at all and just dug out his lighter (always be prepared, although why he had brought a lighter but not a flashlight was beyond him) and light the candle.

At first, everything seemed completely normal. The candle lit easily and burned brightly, and for the first time, Steve could actually see his surroundings as more than vague shadows.

The place was old and dilapidated, with a liberal smattering of cobwebs and animal excrements and all the other unmentionable things that seemed to magically gather in old and dilapidated places. It looked as in the fifty or so years since it had been abandoned, no one had even bothered to try and maybe save at least part of the building. A few old, dusty machines were still around, some of them collapsed due to the rust that was eating them up, but other than that, the place was empty.

Why then, Steve found himself asking, had several supervillains been staking out the place, showing faar too much interest in what essentially was a ruin? He had no answer to that. The only possible interest they could have in this place was the fact that every halfway respectable person would probably go out of their way to avoid it.

While Steve was still considering the emptiness that surrounded him, the candle suddenly made an ominous cracking noise, as if someone had thrown some kind of substance into the fire. For a moment, the candle burned bright blue.

And explosion went off, and Steve, luckily a few steps away from the candle, dropped to the floor and rolled away, covering himself up to avoid damage.

When he dared to lift his head again, the room had filled with thick pluming smoke, rendering Steve almost blind.

Then, something moved. Or rather, stumbled. Steve braced his shield, ready to lash out at whatever came crawling out of the residual smoke, his mind already supplying him with all the dark creatures that he had heard about in the old stories.

However, what followed was an angry ‘fuck’ followed by some creative cursing.

“God, what is this dump?” he heard the same voice say in a disgruntled tone. “Where did I end up?”

And then, out of the smoke, came a young man dressed in a smart if antiquated suit and a carefully styled head of dark locks.

He stopped when he caught sight of Steve, still crouched to the floor with his shield ready to be thrown any moment, and raised an eyebrow.

“Well hel-lo there, darling,” he said with a smirk. “Fancy meeting you here.”

This would have been the perfect moment for the sudden intruder to get acquainted with his shield, but strangely, Steve found himself hesitating. He gripped the leather straps a little more tightly, tensed to react at the slightest provocation.

The stranger shifted his stance once he realised that Steve wasn’t going to answer.

“So,” he said conversationally, “are you the asshole that kidnapped me?”

Steve jerked a little, surprised. “Someone kidnapped you?”

“Well,” the stranger replied, shrugging. “The last thing I remember are two big, burly guys gripping me from behind and bashing me over the head when I tried to get free. And then suddenly, I’m here. You tell me what I’m supposed to think.”

“There wasn’t anyone here until two minutes ago,” Steve said, getting up slowly. He wasn’t sure if this man was telling him the truth or not, but for the moment, he had the impression that he wasn’t an immediate danger.

“Well, I don’t know,” the stranger retorted a little sharply, putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers and lifting his chin defiantly (as if to dare Steve to mess with him). “I was kind of unconscious until a few moments ago.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, lifting his free hand in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “I understand. Why don’t you give me your name, and I’ll see if I can help you.”

The stranger snorted in an unkind way, looking at Steve from under his lashes. On someone else, it might have looked seductive, but on this man, it looked vaguely threatening.

Despite, as Steve couldn’t help but notice, his very handsome face.

“I’m Tony Stark,” the stranger finally deigned to reply. “But you know that already, unless you’re living under a rock.”

The name did ring a bell, but he couldn’t place it right now.

“Steve Rogers,” he introduced himself instead. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark gave an amused chuckle.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow once more. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“That’s my name, yes,” Steve replied, both a little confused and annoyed. “And it’s not that isn’t public knowledge either. Most Americans know who I am.”

“You are so full of yourself,” Mr. Stark groaned. “I mean yeah, the costume is nice, although I don’t get all these alterations you made to it. But using that name is just rude, considering that Steve Rogers is dead.”

“I feel pretty alive for a dead person,” Steve replied drily.

“Steve Rogers died in 1945, stop talking nonsense,” Mr. Stark hissed.

“Yeah, and they pulled my out of the ice in 2011, alive,” Steve growled. It happened sometimes that people still insisted that he was a sham because there was no way that he had survived in the ice for so long. Steve, frankly, had no time for those people. “Why is that so difficult to comprehend? It was all over the news, and it’s not like that happened just yesterday.”

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows rose higher.

“2011?” he asked with confusion in his voice.

“Yes,” Steve said, annoyed still. “It’s 2017, this hasn’t been headline news for five years.”

“2017?” Mr. Stark repeated, with actual shock in his voice now. “No, it’s 1967!”

Steve considered the statement for a moment. Either this man was having some kind of episode or he had received such a heavy blow on the head that something had gotten mixed up in his brain. He would put his money on the second option, really. But then, he wasn’t a doctor and had no idea why a young man would suddenly believe he was living in 1967.

It was foolish to try to work it out. He should simply make sure this man got to see a doctor that would get him checked out.

He cleared his throat, trying to put his most reasonable face on. “Mr. Stark, I understand that you are confused right now, but I’m sure, once we’re out of here and you have been looked after by a medical professional, everything will turn out fine.”

“I am not confused!” Mr. Stark exclaimed. “Honestly, just tell me, what are you after, money? Just get whatever you want and let me go!”

“Please, Mr. Stark, calm down,” Steve said, still trying to hold on to his best ‘reasonable and trustworthy’ persona. It was kind of a bad fit, really, since these weren’t exactly the kinds of situations where he shined. Calming panicked citizens during a supervillain attack, sure, but not when they believed that he might be the bad guy. There was a reason why he usually left more delicate matters to Jan.

Mr. Stark glared at Steve intensely, his face clearly spelling out his complete distrust of Steve.

“What kind of game are you playing here?” he asked.

“No games,” Steve replied. He gathered himself before he slowly and carefully made his way over to where Mr. Stark was standing. Mr. Stark looked tense, but he stood his ground and did not back away as Steve approached. “My first and foremost concern at the moment is to get you out of here.”

It could be a trap, possibly. But no matter how much he felt that this situation was extremely strange, he didn’t feel that his man was a danger to him.

After Steve’s application of all of his rhetorical skills, Mr. Stark finally agreed to come with him and get out of the old, dilapidated building. He looked suspicious the entire way, glaring at his surroundings as if they had somehow personally insulted him.

It was only on the way back to the Avengers headquarters that it clicked why the name Tony Stark had seemed so strangely familiar to Steve. The building they’d been in had once been a small factory for Stark Industries, but it had been abandoned and left to rot a long time ago.

To find a Mr. Stark in a former Stark Industries building was likely not a coincidence. Maybe he had only remembered that name after the whack on his head because he had seen it somewhere in the building. On some of the rotting machine parts, probably.

When they had left, Steve had contacted Jan and given her a heads-up, so be the time they arrived at the headquarter, she was already eagerly waiting for them. She gave Mr. Stark (still glaring suspiciously at his surroundings) one look and then sighed.

“Steve,” she said. “What have you picked up this time?”

Steve lowered his voice, leaning closer to Jan so that Mr. Stark wouldn’t hear them. “He says his name is ‘Tony Stark’ and he believes it’s the year 1967. I have no idea where he came from. I lit up a random candle in the Stark Industries building and it exploded. The smoke from the explosion might have forced him out from wherever he’d been hiding.”

“1967?” Jan repeated, her eyebrows rising. She shot another quick look at Mr Stark, who glared back. “Well, his styling is certainly on point. That’s peak 60’s fashion.”

Jan would certainly know, considering that her actual job was fashion designing.

“I’m not sure what to do with him,” Steve continued. “We should probably start with trying to find out who he really is. And maybe get him checked out.”

Jan considered the situation for a moment.

“You know,” she said slowly. “It’s strange that the name Tony Stark would pop up, especially in combination with the year 1967. If my memory doesn’t deceive me, Anthony Edward Stark was the son of the rich industrialist Howard Stark, who made a fortune with his company after the war. Of course, the company still exists today, as you know. Stark Industries. Tony Stark was to take over his father’s duties in time, and he was a genius by all accounts. But before he could step up as the new head of Stark Industries, he tragically died in 1967. They say it’s been a tragic accident, but there have always been rumours that there was more to it than that.”

“But why would he believe he is Tony Stark?” Steve asked, gesturing at Mr. Stark, who gave him a poisonous glare for his efforts. “It makes no sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jan agreed. “But that won’t stop us.”

Steve eventually handed Tony off to Jan, getting her to promise that she should take care of him and maybe recruit Natasha or Thor into keeping an eye on Mr. Stark, too, just to make sure that there wouldn’t be any issues.

They had taken Tony’s fingerprints and a photo in the hope that the more data they had, the more likely they were to find out who he really was.

Tony had been extremely fascinated with the came that Jan had produced out of her bag, taking it off her eagerly and turning it around in his hands, apparently just one screwdriver short of taking it apart.

It reminded Steve the tiniest little bit of himself when he’d woken up in the future for the first time, faced with all the technological advancements, only with a lot less hostility and a lot more enthusiasm.

After the photo session had been finished, Steve headed off to research Mr. Stark’s identity, while Jan took Mr. Stark to see a doctor.

The fingerprints they had taken had no match in the system, and after digging around aimlessly for a while, Steve decided to look up the deceased Anthony Stark instead.

What he found was… overwhelming. There were endless articles about him and his famous father, articles about his status as the most eligible bachelor and his undeniable appeal in women’s magazines, articles about all the different conspiracy theories after his death. There were also photos. An incredible amount of photos.

And, Steve had to agree, the man in the photos looked remarkably like the man whose picture he had just taken moments before. In fact, they looked the same down to the last detail.

Before he knew it, Steve had sent a request to the responsible authorities to get him a copy of the files of the investigation after Anthony Stark’s untimely death. It was likely to be a dead end in this case, but if anything, the original Mr. Stark’s death and Obadiah Stane’s subsequent rise to power seemed highly suspicious. A second look was doubtlessly warranted.

He decided to give up for the night just when his phone started vibrating. The call was from Jan, so he picked up quickly.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“Well, not really,” came Jan’s not very reassuring answer. “The physical went fine, the doctor couldn’t detect any injuries or any kind of trauma. But he has no idea how modern technology works, apparently, and then he got his hands on some tools and started taking everything apart. He took apart my TV, Steve! And then he put it back together, and not only does it work, the annoying flimmering I’ve been complaining about is also gone! I had to stop him before he took all of my kitchen appliances apart, too!”

“So he’s handy,” Steve said, unsure of what else he was supposed to say to that.

“Handy?” Jan repeated, incredulous. “Handy?? Steve, I had to explain the internet to him because he’d never heard of it, and 30 minutes later, he’s picking fights with people in internet forums! I have no idea what’s going on in his brain!”

“I’ll be there soon,” Steve assured her, ending the call.

Oh well, he thought to himself. Better than a horde of Hydra agents, probably.

Mr. Stark was busy cursing at the display of a laptop in his lap when Steve arrived in the living room in Jan’s apartment. At some point, Mr. Stark had changed out of his 60s suit and into something more casual and much more modern and comfortable. (It was probably one of Jan’s prototypes that she was currently working on.) Steve couldn’t help but notice how much better he looked without the pomp of the suit. Somehow, it seemed much more… approachable?

Not to mention that the tousled hair was very cute.

Natasha was there too, curled up in one of the armchairs and staring at Mr. Stark like a cat observing a particularly fascinating and unusual prey.

Jan rolled her eyes at Steve when he entered, waving one hand at Mr. Stark in a gesture that clearly spelled ‘see what I mean, this is ridiculous.’

“They all say I’m dead!” Mr. Stark exclaimed, shaking the laptop a little as if that would magically change the contents of whatever website he was currently browsing. “I’m obviously alive!”

“Well, ‘you’ haven’t been seen for the past fifty years,” Steve said. “These things tend to happen.”

Mr. Stark looked up, surprise written all over his face.

“Hey, it’s fake Captain America,” he eventually said, overly cheerfully. “Well, not so much now. I gotta say, I dig the All American Hotness in t-shirt and jeans.”

When Steve raised an eyebrow at him, Mr. Stark raised one right back.

“What?” he asked. “The internet tells me that gay marriage is legal now. Don’t be a homophobe.”

“That’s really not the issue here,” Steve said, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. He was pretty sure that he of all things wasn’t a homophobe. “The issue is that no matter how similar you might look to the late Anthony Stark, there’s no way that you’re the real one. It’s been over fifty years since his death, and by all accounts, Anthony Stark should by getting close to eighty now. You don’t even look thirty yet.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Mr. Stark replied. “And it’s not like you of all people have room to talk, Sleeping Beauty On Ice.”

“That was all technology,” Steve said, frowning. “They tested me thoroughly and found out that I’m capable of surviving certain conditions that a normal person wouldn’t. So instead of freezing to death, my bodily functions just shut down enough to put me into a deep sleep.”

“How convenient,” Mr. Stark groused. “Of course, I have no convenient explanation for why I’m here, since I don’t even know how I ended up in that building in the first place.”

Natasha murmured something in Russian and Steve looked over at her.

“What?” he asked.

“Witchcraft,” she said simply.

“Okay,” Steve said doubtfully. “And since when have you become a specialist of the occult?”

“I have many talents,” Natasha answered cryptically and gave him her best razor-sharp smile. (Steve decided he didn’t want to know.)

Jan clapped her hands.

“Right!” she said brightly. “I knew there was a reason why we keep Stephen Strange on the emergency contacts list.”

Jan called Dr. Strange and Dr. Strange said he would come after making all of them wait for a bit because of some other, and much more important, “supernatural emergency.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Stark kept poking at the internet, cursing whenever he found something he didn’t approve of, and murmuring to himself whenever he did approve of something.

When Dr. Strange finally arrived after a seemingly endless wait, he took one look at Mr. Stark before he turned around and fixed Jan, Natasha and Steve with a glare.

“So who was it that dabbled in Necromancy?” he asked. “Because that-” he jabbed sharply at Mr. Stark, sitting on the couch, “-really shouldn’t be alive.”

The three of them exchanged glances with each other.

“That would probably be you, Steve,” Jan suggested when they had been quiet for too long.

“Me?” Steve asked, a little shocked at the accusation. He would never.

“Well, you lit that candle in the old factory,” Natasha said. “If you think about it, it’s pretty odd to just find a candle lying around in an old, abandoned factory. Someone must have left it there on purpose.”

Well, one thing was certainly true about that. Normal candles didn’t just suddenly flash blue and explode. That left the question: Who had put it there, and why?

Steve had an uncomfortable flashback to all the different supervillain organisations that had been sighted in the area recently. Next to him, Jan’s expression told him that she was thinking about the same thing.

“Can we reverse it somehow?” Steve asked.

Dr. Strange sent him a flat look that clearly spelled that he certainly wasn’t going to dabble in Necromancy to help them get rid of a reportedly dead person.

“We can’t just let him stay here!” Steve reminded them.

“Why not?” Jan asked, and her brow furrowed dangerously. “It’s not like this is his fault!”

“Exactly!” Steve exclaimed. “He’s supposed to be dead!”

“He died with 27, for fuck’s sake!” Jan spat. “He might have wanted a little more from life than that!”

It was true, and Steve couldn’t deny that. And it made him angry.

But he also knew how it was to be completely out of time. A lot of people that Tony had known before were dead now. And the other… Steve didn’t want to think about that. The only thing that he had really left was…

“What the fuck did Obie do to my company?” Tony shouted, glaring at the laptop still in front of him. “What is this? The future was supposed to be brighter, not full of weapons!”

Jan made a conflicted face and walked over to the sofa. Tony looked up with a genuinely upset expression on his face.

“The future was supposed to be flying cars and planetary travel, not high-tech wars,” he told her quietly. The heartbreak in his voice was one that Steve was only too familiar with. He too had once believed that the future was bright.

“I know,” Jan said with a sigh, putting a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. “But humanity has yet to learn how to be peaceful.”

Tony looked at her sadly. “We have already gone to the depths of depravity, how much further do they want to go?”

Then, suddenly, his expression changed into something much more determined.

“I’m going to dismantle them,” he declared, as if it was an easy thing to do.

“You’re officially dead,” Steve reminded him. “Technically, you don’t even exist.”

Tony glared at Steve as if he wanted to set him on fire by the force of his sheer will alone.

“We’ll see about that,” he eventually said, getting up and stomping out of the room.

Natasha sent Steve a judgemental and yet faintly amused look, and then turned to follow Tony.

“Don’t you just have a way with words,” Jan sighed.

Well. He couldn’t exactly deny that.

Tony certainly didn’t waste any time. Steve wasn’t sure how he made it all work, the trauma of his sudden arrival in the future, the fact that he had been dead for fifty years, everything.

Steve was sure that Natasha had her fingers in there somewhere, managing that Tony got his officially approved identity complete with social security number and tax returns suspiciously quickly. She also supplied him with contacts, Steve was sure, even though she would never admit that.

Once he was legally alive, Tony went to work without looking back. He immersed himself into the study of bleeding edge technology and before Steve even knew it, Tony had acquired the patents for three new kinds of smartphones, one paper screen, and a better hybrid motor for cars, among other things.

“It’s frightening,” Jan had said at one point. “Like, I knew they used to call him a genius, and he was actively involved in the research and development of Stark Industries when it had still been his father’s company. But it’s like the technological advancement since the sixties has completely unshackled him, as if he’s finally free to do the things he could only dream about before. It’s frightening and awe-inspiring at the same time.”

In the privacy of his own mind, Steve completely agreed with Jan. It was amazing to see the transformation, and how effortlessly Tony seemed to adapt to the 21st century. After a short while, it felt as if he had never led a different life, as if he had never died at all.

And then, whenever Tony caught Steve observing him, he would look back with a serious expression on his face before it would transform into a daring smile.

Steve never knew how to react to that (Was it a challenge? Or smugness) and just stared back blankly, his heart beating a little bit faster in his chest.

The true sensation came when Tony’s newly founded firm, Stark Solutions, got powerful enough in a very short time to be able to take over Stark Industries. At his first press conference, he announced that he would merge the two companies under the name of Stark Industries, but that the weapon production would cease immediately.

Until this point, Stark Industries had been at the forefront of the weapons market, and suddenly people were scrambling in a panic because Tony had decided that it was a better use of his time to gear his tech towards civilian use.

Tony didn’t care about the media backlash, and he laughed at the military threatening him, making their lives harder on purpose.

Steve looked at Tony and sometimes wondered how a dead man was more invested into the living word than many people who had yet their lives in front of them.

They never talked about it, but Steve had looked through the files of the investigation of Tony’s death, and he had come to the conclusion that there had been foul play. All signs pointed towards Obadiah Stane, who had had Tony killed for the sake of his own personal success.

He couldn’t prove it, but he was sure that Tony had looked through the files as well, and come to the same conclusion. It was only a pity that Obadiah had died in the 90s, Steve thought, because if it was worth beating one person shapeless with his shield, Obadiah was that person. He didn’t really take pride in these feelings, but honestly, who cared about pride when powerhungry men murdered innocent people to get what they wanted. He’d been Tony’s godfather, for fuck’s sake.

Among the high society, it was pretty much an open secret that the Tony Stark that had suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere to become one of the most powerful people in the tech business practically overnight really was the Tony Stark that had reportedly died in the 60s, but strangely, they gobbled him right up. No one questioned him, and no one asked about Obadiah, instead loving everything he did and panting after him in obvious and humiliating ways that made Steve roll his eyes.

He was the king of the court, and everyone knew it.

Steve couldn’t care less about that.

Steve’s personal high point came one night when Tony caught him at the Avengers headquarters just when he was preparing to go home after a relatively calm day.

“You’ve never asked me to join,” Tony said by way of greeting, looking at Steve as if the answers were written on his face somehow.

Steve shouldered his bag and walked to the door Tony was currently leaning against, trying not the be too obvious in his appreciation of Tony in jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his figure just so.

“I’m not making a dead person join a band of superheroes,” he replied, but the jab had long lost its sting. Steve would call Tony a dead person and Tony would smirk and show him all the way in which he most certainly was very alive.

It was… addictive.

“I am richer than God,” Tony said with a slight smirk, but Steve knew it was neither a boast nor a joke.

Granted, most of that money would never even get close to Tony, since the moment it had been earned, it would be reinvested in one of his companies or his loyal employees as if he was compelled to do so, but the point stood.

“So what, are you planning to be our Daddy Long Legs?” Steve snarked, shooting Tony a grin of his own.

“Something much better,” Tony replied with an equally predatory smile. “I have a suit of armor.”

Steve looked at Tony in surprise. “You built a weapon?”

“No,” Tony replied. “Not that it doesn’t have weapons, but that’s really not what I had in mind. I built a defense. Something that will stop people becoming the victims of violence. People shouldn’t live in fear of death every day. I thought this is what you stand for.”

“I do,” Steve found himself answering.

“Then,” Tony murmured, stepping closer to Steve and curling his fingers into the collar of his shirt before pulling him down to eye level, “why don’t you show me what you’re made of?”

For a moment, they both breathed the same air.

“Show me that suit,” Steve said, feeling a little breathless.

“Gladly,” Tony smirked. “Oh my Captain.”

Honestly speaking, Steve’s mother had raised him better. No good things came out of consorting with the dead, he’d been taught, and all the better if you didn’t even try. All it would do was to invite more trouble into your live than it was worth. His mother would be so disappointed in him if she knew what he had done. And she had been right; it had invited a lot of trouble into his life, more than he really knew what to do with, some days.

But here was where she had been wrong: All the trouble was utterly worth it. And if she had ever met Tony, she would probably agree with him.

Tony, certainly, was worth the exception.

#kuro writes #stevetony #stevextony #stony

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