Chapter Text
It was already dark when Howard's Cadillac Allanté pulled up the wide, curving driveway outside the luxurious mansion, but even in the dim porch light that offered the only illumination aside from the low-cast beams of the roadster's headlights, Steve could clearly see that he was way out of his depth. If he hadn't already been convinced of that as he'd watched the last vivid orange of a fading sunset light the sky on fire above a sprawling cityscape -- staring out the passenger window as if he were an alien who'd just landed on a new planet as the flashy car climbed higher into the Hollywood hills -- Steve certainly got it, by now. He wasn't in Alaska anymore. This—whatever this was—was really happening.
"Sorry about the welcome," Howard apologized as he parked the car around the side of the house, notably where it wouldn't be seen from the street below. "This isn't usually how I receive guests, here; my regular staff are all back at the New York place," he continued, pulling his gold-toned car keys free and spinning their ring absently on his finger, adding, "--my wife would be appalled by my hospitality, but like I mentioned, this situation requires discretion. No need to draw any more attention to ourselves than strictly required, y'know?"
Steve nodded mutely, glancing around uncomfortably. Howard pulled that odd face again that he tended to make when he regarded Steve, before pushing his door open and tilting his head to the side, indicating for Steve to follow him.
"Not a man of many words, are you, Rogers?" Howard muttered as he led the way to a side entrance. "Gotta tell ya, I usually appreciate that in a man, but on you the effect is a little disconcerting, if you know what I mean..."
Howard fumbled with his keys, trying to fit the right one in the lock more by feel than sight in the poor lighting, then glanced back at Steve as the door clicked open. The younger man's expression was frustratingly neutral, but for the small furrow between his brows that Howard couldn't make heads or tails of (...was that confusion? affront? irritation?...).
The man was a hard read, that was for sure.
Steve shut and locked the door behind him as Howard led the way through the service corridor and into the stunning interior of the large estate, flipping light switches as he went and blinding Steve with increasingly alarming levels of Mediterranean grandeur. It was like being on the set of some sumptuous noir film; the kind that revolved around casual violence and mob money and illicit affairs with gorgeous femme fatales.
"Sure beats that sorry shack I pulled you from out in the boonies, huh?" Howard smirked, catching the awed look in Steve's eyes, even if the rest of his expression remained largely impassive. "I've owned this place for decades. Bought it after I acquired my first defense contract. Maria thought it was a bit much -- she was always an East Coast kinda gal. We spent most of our time at the New York place after we were married. Still, it was nice to have this on hand, for a change of pace from time to time... I'd offer you the grand tour, but why don't you get settled in, first? Take some time to freshen up? You look like you could use it," Howard offered, eyeing the younger man's wild beard and rugged appearance.
"I'm not gonna be hanging around -- gotta get back to New York before my absence arouses any suspicion -- so I'll tell you what: you take the master bedroom, alright? Help yourself to whatever you like up there. My housekeeper keeps everything fresh and fully stocked. You're welcome to whatever clothes you can find that'll fit; we've got spares of all the basics in the guest rooms... robes, slippers, some tees and trunks. I'll have my man Jarvis send over a shipment of better options as early as tomorrow. He'll get you sorted out. Anything else you need, food or supplies or otherwise, Lupe will see to it -- just mark it on the shopping list hanging outside the butler's pantry. Don't worry, I'll point it out to you later. Whaddya say? Can I get you anything, or do you want to head up to your room now?"
"You're leaving?" Steve asked, looking deeply concerned by the idea.
"Well, not right this minute," Howard assured him, frowning at the concerning expression on Steve's face. "I've still got some things to go over with you. But all that could wait a bit while you get settled in, okay? Just because I'm a widower doesn't mean I haven't retained any of my social graces, though my wife was a lot better at this sort of thing," Howard quipped with a smile that was a little too tight. Steve was looking at him as if he saw right through him; as if the pain of his recent loss was as fresh as it had been two years ago. Howard didn't like it.
After showing the strange man to the grand master bedroom, making a point of showing him where the trimmers and other key toiletries were located, Howard left Steve to it, making his way down to the bar for a much-needed drink. He'd done so much flying over the last 72 hours that he decided he'd be better off taking a commercial jet back to New York at this point. No need to tempt fate by exhausting himself beyond all limits. Let some other pilot take the helm. He was almost looking forward to it, being able to drink his fill of complimentary, standard-issue booze before dozing off in his moderately comfortable, first-class seat. It sounded positively indulgent, at this point.
Howard sighed as he sunk into a soft leather armchair, feeling his stomach grumbling but not feeling inspired enough to do anything about it. He'd lost weight since Maria had died. She was always reminding him to feed himself more than booze. Lately he'd been so busy that eating seemed like a chore, constantly getting bumped down the to-do list by more urgent priorities. Maybe he should've picked up food for him and Rogers along the way. Too late, now. At least the pantry should be sufficiently stocked. Howard reasoned that Rogers must know how to fend for himself well enough, after living off-off-grid for six whole years. If the man knew how to make a meal out of a muskox, surely he could boil himself some spaghetti.
Damn. Six whole years in that cold, godforsaken place.
It was no wonder the man was such an odd duck. Howard could only guess at what had happened to drive him to such an extreme way of life, if that sorry existence he'd carved out for himself in that sad little hovel even counted as such. Even with Howard's discreet, wildly illegal breach of the highly classified SHIELD files related to Rogers and the last mission he'd been on, Howard still felt that the man was largely a mystery to him.
His upbringing as an army brat living what must've been a very isolated childhood went some of the way toward explaining his strange mannerisms, as did the fact that he was barely of age before he took up with the Army, practically raised to be a soldier. It was no wonder that he climbed high and fast, promoted to Captain at a young age and displaying incredible bravery and tactical skill before being fast-tracked into JSOC, after which SHIELD had recruited him into their special division.
It was on one of SHIELD's more classified missions that the 27 year-old supersoldier and his team encountered an ambush that took out their entire unit, leaving several bodies—including Rogers'—unaccounted for. The nature of the mission had been so sensitive that the search and rescue operation had been delayed, but when SHIELD hadn't found Rogers' body amongst the carnage, unprecedented resources had been used to try to locate him.
Despite the collective failure to recover the lost hero, many had believed that he'd survived. Among those believers was Howard Stark, who had barely known the man in Steve's early days at SHIELD, but had witnessed enough to be suitably impressed by his unique skill set, as well as his uncommon bravery and unflagging devotion to justice. If ever there was a cause worth fighting for, Steve Rogers was ready to do whatever it took to win that fight, and to do it damn well.
He was exactly the person Howard needed right now.
Howard only hoped that man was still in there somewhere, under all that overgrown hair and taciturn, wild-eyed loneliness.
It was well after midnight when the young couple finally arrived at their destination, having left one posh suburb for another after Tony convinced the lovely Debbie to ditch the party and come check out his far more impressive, and far more private swimming pool. Tony swerved a little drunkenly as he turned a hair too quickly onto the private driveway, just as the bridge of Guns N' Roses' Paradise City gave way to Axl Rose's next verse, blasted through the car's stereo system:
Captain America's been torn apart, now
He's a court jester with a broken heart
He said, "Turn me around and take me back to the start"
I must be losing my mind, are you blind? I've seen it all a million times...
"Oh. My. God. ...You actually live here??"
Tony grinned at the blonde babe leaning out of his convertible beside him as he parked the red Porsche more or less in front of the mansion, the song's chorus dying abruptly as he cut the engine.
"I told you you'd like it," Tony said as he chewed on his mint gum, eyebrows jumping up and down above the top of his fashionable sunglasses while he reached to open his car door. Tony's grin faded as he hopped out and stumbled over the remains of a busted flower pot, shaking soil off his designer shoe. He probably shouldn't drive wearing his shades at night. Belatedly, he pushed them up to rest on top of his head.
With an arm around Debbie's slim waist, Tony joined the aspiring young actress in an excited, drunken fit of giggles as they staggered together up to the front door, where Tony squinted at his keys until he found the right one.
"There's really nobody else here?" Debbie asked as they stepped into the dark, quiet space, eyes wide as she took in the impressive foyer.
"Nope. We've got it all to ourselves," Tony smiled reassuringly. "You want the grand tour, beautiful?"
Debbie smiled enticingly at the compliment, eyes evaluating Tony with renewed interest as she nodded in the affirmative.
"Hmm, how 'bout we start with the master bedroom?" Tony purred, stroking a hand along Debbie's bare midriff. "It's the best part."
"I thought you were gonna show me the pool?" Debbie teased, running her hands over Tony's chest as her hot pink lips stretched in a wide smirk over her perfect, white teeth.
"The master overlooks the pool, babe," Tony grinned. "Best view there is."
Taking one of her hands, Tony started walking backwards toward the grand staircase, beautiful brown eyes sparkling mischievously as Debbie smiled back at him, helplessly charmed. Debbie laughed as Tony took off at a run, then, dragging her along as he enthusiastically took to the stairs two at a time with Debbie stumbling after him in her kitten-heeled slingbacks.
"Tony, slow down! You're gonna make me slip and break my neck!" Debbie laughed.
"I would never!" Tony gasped, stopping to crowd Debbie against the banister as he cupped her cheek reassuringly before leaning in to slowly press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"Mmmm, that was nice," Debbie cooed, eyes heavy-lidded as Tony pulled back to regard her adoringly before moving in to press more kisses along her jaw, then down her neck when she bared her throat to him with a breathy laugh of appreciation. "...Maybe we should move this to that bedroom you mentioned, huh?"
"See, I knew you were smart," Tony quipped, plucking his gum out of his mouth and reaching behind her to stick it onto the underside of the banister. "Never let anyone tell you that blondes don't have brains."
Debbie smacked Tony against the chest in retaliation as he snickered, reaching for her hand again to pull her along to the master suite.
By the time the young couple made it past the threshold, crashing through the double doors as Tony's tongue became very intimate with Debbie's, his shirt was mostly untucked, his brown hair was thoroughly mussed and there were hot pink lipstick smudges all over his mouth and jaw. Tony staggered forward, tipping the girl he'd picked up no more than a couple hours ago backward onto the king-sized, four-poster bed, then groaned out a sexy-enough sound in lieu of muttering fuck yes as she wrapped her long legs around his waist and dragged him down on top of her, tugging greedily at his clothing.
Tony was so caught up in the moment that he almost didn't notice the dark shape rising up from the floor beside the bed, before his peripheral vision caught the outline of a rather large man sitting up on the floor, silhouetted against the faint blue glow of the pool light from the patio windows.
"Ohjesuswhatthefuck!!" Tony gasped, stumbling backwards and slipping off the end of the bed, his butt impacting with the hardwood floor as Debbie turned in confusion to see what had spooked him, then let out a shrill scream just as Tony hastily reached to turn on a bedside lamp with wild eyes, knocking over the lamp in the process and flooding the room with eerie low light from where the exposed bulb flickered back to life on the floor.
"WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Tony shouted, hands up defensively in front of him as he took in the alarming sight of the startled-looking bearded man, who was staring at him with confusion from where he'd made a bed for himself on the floor. As Tony reached for the first blunt object he could find, which happened to be the base of the fallen lamp, Debbie clamored to hide herself behind the dubious safety of his lithe body, gripping his shirt in a tight hold as she made high-pitched, nervous sounds behind him.
"Is that a homeless guy??!" Debbie squeaked.
"I think so," Tony breathlessly replied, eyes practically bulging out of his head as he kept his unblinking gaze on the strange intruder. "...there's a phone over there, can you call the cops?"
"What?!" Debbie cried, glancing at the phone a few feet away as if he were asking the impossible. "No! You call them!!"
As Tony started to inch sideways toward the phone, Debbie's hold tightened on his shirt as she squeaked, "Wait! Don't leave!"
"Nobody's calling any cops," the man suddenly spoke in a low, even tone as he slowly rose to his full height, making Tony's hands wring nervously around the stem of the lamp.
"Oh my god, holy shit," Tony murmured, taking in the full size of the mountain man in the too-tight t-shirt, who seemed to be wearing a pair of his dad's pajama pants?
"Look, man, whatever you want, you can take it, okay? We don't want any trouble..." Tony tried, his voice wobbling as he tried to sound reassuring.
"Who are you?" the man asked, looking at Tony strangely.
"Who am I?? Who the fuck are you?!" Tony squeaked. "You're in the wrong neighborhood, pal!"
"Tony, don't!" Debbie warned, trying to tug him backwards as his posture turned somewhat aggressive.
"Tony? Tony Stark?" The man asked, squinting across at him with a skeptical sort of understanding. "You're Howard's kid?"
"What if I am?" Tony asked, shrugging defiantly, hoping this wasn't about to turn into some sort of half-assed kidnapping attempt.
"You're not supposed to be here," the man huffed, as if he had any right to tell Tony where he was 'supposed' to be.
"The feeling is mutual!!" Tony sputtered.
"I'm a... friend... of your father's. He said you were in Boston. This house is supposed to be vacant," the man patiently explained.
"Yeah, uh, no offense, but you really don't look like the sort of guy my dad associates with," Tony scoffed. "Nice try, though."
"Call him, ask him yourself," the man shrugged. "You might still catch him before his plane leaves. He was here earlier."
Tony eyed the man suspiciously for a beat, then in a quiet voice, said, "Hey, Deb? Do me a favor? Could you dial my dad's car phone for me? I'll tell you the number, okay?"
"Tonyyyyy," Debbie whined, looking nervously between the strange man and the phone a few feet away from where she crouched behind Tony.
"Come on, I won't let him hurt you," Tony promised. "Just dial the number. It'll be okay."
Debbie made a long, pathetic whining sound, but crept over to the phone and pouted deeply as she looked over at Tony expectantly, holding up the receiver. As Tony recited the number, she dialed it in, then pressed the speaker button at Tony's direction.
Everyone stood there listening as it rung twice before Howard answered the line.
"This is Stark, better make it fast," Howard answered in a crisp tone.
"Dad?" Tony called out, pitching his voice to be heard over the speaker. "Can you hear me?"
"Tony? What are you calling me for at this hour," Howard groused, "I'm at the airport, son. I don't have time for any bullshit right now."
"Dad, listen to me: I'm in L.A.—"
"You're what?"
"—and I'm at the house, and there's this scary-looking guy here who says that he knows you..."
"Are you kidding me!!? You're not supposed to be there, Tony! Christ! Who do you think you are, just showing up at my California place like that without any notice? You better not have some bimbo with you, I swear to God..."
"Dad, you're not hearing me," Tony stressed as Debbie made a face behind him, crossing her arms petulantly. "There's this guy here..."
"His name is Captain Rogers, and you are NOT to give him any of your shit!" Howard snapped.
"Captain Rogers??" Tony repeated, his face scrunching up in confusion. "Wait, you really know this guy? He looks like a hobo! He was hiding behind your bed like some kind of freak, dad!"
"You listen to me very carefully, son," Howard warned, "Captain Rogers is a friend of mine. He's my guest. If you embarrass me by acting like a disrespectful little shit around him, I will make you regret it. Do you understand me? Jesus, I can't believe this is happening," Howard muttered, as Tony slowly lowered the lamp and glared at the man across from him, who was regarding the whole scene with an awkward sort of expression, arms folded across his chest. "Tony, I want you out of there, do you hear me? Go back to Boston, or go to New York, but you are not to use the California house unsupervised."
"Jeez, dad, what's your problem? You'll let this random Sasquatch-looking guy stay here, but not your own son?? I don't want to spend my summer on the East Coast! I have plans here, okay?"
"What 'plans'??!" Howard barked, "You never let me in on any of these 'plans' of yours, Tony -- and don't for one minute think I don't know exactly what that entails! You can't just show up there and act like you own the place! You're just a kid! A spoiled, arrogant, impulsive little—"
"Whatever. I'm actually an adult," Tony shot back, voice heavy with attitude.
"You're a teenaged brat!! You're only eighteen, that's barely an adult!" Howard argued.
“Are you serious? I turned nineteen two weeks ago, dad. Nice. Thanks for remembering your only son’s birthday. No biggie.”
Tony could almost hear Howard pinching the bridge of nose on the other end of the line before muttering, “I’ve been very busy, Tony.”
“Psh. What else is new.”
“You know, believe it or not, the entire world doesn’t revolve around you,” Howard snapped.
“Oh, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” Tony sneered. “Trust me, dad: I have zero delusions that I’m the center of your world.”
“Oh for crying out loud, it’s just another birthday! You’ve had plenty of ‘em! If you’re such a ‘grown man’ all of a sudden, what the hell are you whining at me for? As if I haven’t given you enough presents over the years!”
“How about just a simple acknowledgement of my continued existence? Maybe a phone call? Or even just a card would’ve been nice,” Tony scoffed, playing it off as some sort of twisted joke, as if he wasn’t truly hurt by the inadvertent slight.
"Listen, I don't have time for this manipulative hogwash -- I've got a plane to catch. I need you to promise me that you'll leave first thing in the morning."
"Why do I have to leave? I'm not 'unsupervised' if your 'friend' is here, anyway..."
"Tony, I'm warning you..."
"Dad, come on! It's finally summer, and I just finished my SECOND master's program at MIT. Cut me some freakin' slack!"
"Tony, put Captain Rogers on the phone."
"He's standing right here, he can hear you," Tony shrugged.
After a short silence, Howard asked, "...Am I on speaker phone?"
"Yeah..."
Everyone heard Howard's muffled curse before he demanded in a tight voice, "Take the phone off speaker and hand the receiver to Captain Rogers."
Tony frowned as he moved to do as instructed, eyeing Steve as if the man had personally insulted him by crashing his would-be hook-up as Steve carefully stepped around the bed to take the phone from where Tony stood dangling it at arm's length with disdain.
Steve's sensitive nose picked up the stench of booze and stale cigarette smoke and peppermint mixed with a heavy application of cologne on the young man, underlain with the faint scent of arousal. Tony handed over the receiver with an exaggerated insouciance, then stepped back to stand beside Debbie with his arms folded in front of him, glaring at Steve as he answered the phone.
"This is Rogers. ...Yes. ...No. ...No. ...Uh," Steve started, glancing over at Debbie for a moment before quietly answering, "...Yes."
There was a quiet beat as he waited out Howard's frustrated response, before replying, "I understand. ...Yes. I will. ...Okay." After another stretch where Steve stood there listening, he glanced up at Tony momentarily, seemingly thinking something over before quietly speaking into the receiver. "It's fine. It won't be a problem. ...Yes, I'm sure. ...I don't think that will be necessary. ...Alright. ...Yes. ...Okay. ...Okay. ...Got it. ...Goodbye."
Tony looked warily at the man across from him as he hung up the phone, then turned to regard Tony with a strange expression. After a moment, he said, "Your friend has to leave. Call her a cab."
"What! You can't kick her out of—"
"Tony, it's fine," Debbie interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's late. I really should get going."
"But— but— you haven't even seen the pool, yet!" Tony complained.
"I'll give you my number, okay? Some other time," Debbie insisted. "I'd really like to leave, now."
"Well, shit," Tony murmured, casting an accusatory glance at Steve. "Thanks a lot, man."
"Don't look at me like that. You're lucky I'm letting you stay," Steve retorted, to Tony's astonishment.
"You're letting me stay?? In my own house?! Well, get a load of Mr. Magnanimous, here!"
Debbie rolled her eyes and went to call up a cab, herself, finding a notepad and pen beside the phone and asking Tony for the address.
"I don't know who you think you are or why the hell my dad seems to think the sun shines out of your hairy ass, but if you think you're going to boss me around, you've got another thing coming," Tony insisted, as Steve just stared back at him looking deeply unimpressed.
"Tony! The address!" Debbie pleaded, making Tony finally turn to acknowledge her, reciting the information for her to relay to the operator.
Tony pouted pathetically as he watched the cab pull away, taking his hopes of getting laid that night along with it. This was hardly an auspicious start to what was supposed to be his Totally Epic Summer.
Back in the mansion, Tony found "Captain Rogers" standing silently at the top of the staircase, somehow managing to radiate judgement in spite of his ridiculously ill-fitted outfit and his backwoods maniac facial hair.
"Are you happy, now? Have you sufficiently ruined my night, or is there something else I can help you with?" Tony called up to him, planting his hands on his hips as he cocked his head at the shadowy figure. "Maybe you want to jerk off while you watch me move all my stuff into the pool house?" he rudely suggested.
Steve frowned down at the young man, choosing to ignore the crass suggestion to ask, "Why would you want to move out there? I thought you were determined to stay here."
"Yeah, no, I think I'd rather be as far away from your weird ass as possible, thank you very much. Besides, you already took the best room," Tony complained.
"...Do you want me to sleep in the pool house?" Steve offered, as if he'd honestly do something like that for Tony. The unexpected gesture threw him off.
"...Forget it. My dad would kill me if he thought I kicked you out of the master. Just... go back to— whatever the hell you were doing on the floor in there, okay? You're freaking me out, watching over me like— like some messed up nanny or something... Whatever. I can take it from here, alright?"
Steve regarded Tony silently for another beat before turning away and disappearing back into the master bedroom, closing the doors securely behind him.
Tony heaved out a sigh, staring blankly into the spacious room as he considered his options. He wouldn't be scared out of his own house by this guy, whoever he was. He'd been looking forward to this summer vacation, finally able to let loose without any obligations hanging over him. Though it definitely wasn't shaping up to be what he'd imagined, Tony thought he might still be able to salvage something out of this otherwise annoying situation. What was that guy doing all alone here, anyways? Didn't he have anything better to do than crash some teenager's summer break?
No, Tony wouldn't be chased off that easily. But maybe, if he played this right, he could make "Captain Rogers" decide to leave, instead...
Tony's face broke out into a devilish grin as a new plan started forming in his genius, if slightly booze-addled and sex-starved brain.
...After all, if anyone knew how to drive people away by being an obnoxious little shit, there was nobody better at it than Tony Stark.