13. Sins Of The Father 12

Everyone left Steve alone the next day, but by evening Tony found him on the uppermost patio deck. The height of the building always made it a chilly location, but Tony had fitted it with large heating lanterns (one of the better inventions of the future in Steve's opinion, rating right up there with wet wipes). Steve was tucked under one, a sketchbook on his lap, mapping out the skyline with colored pencils.

Tony kept quiet as he meandered around the deck furniture and the currently-quiet hot tub until he sat down in the chair next to Steve. The behavior was odd enough to make Steve pause, looking up at him.

"Dad never talked about Bucky. Hell, no one does. He was, like, your sidekick. Kind of forgettable, really." His words cut like knives, but his voice was soft. There was no challenge to it, just a simple observation, offered up like a gift.

Steve looked back out over the city. "Imagine someone saying the same thing about Pepper, a century from now."

Tony took a deep breath. "Ouch." Then he laughed. "Although it's not like you and Bucky were going to get married or anything."

Steve laughed on cue, even if the words hurt more than the earlier ones had. Then he registered what Tony had said. "You've proposed to Pepper?"

Tony startled. "What? No!"

"But you just said—"

"It's what people do. Eventually. Down the road. It was just me talking."

"Uh huh." Steve shook his head. "You love your girl, Tony. You should, what did Darcy say? Put a ring on it?"

"She is banned from this property, forever, starting now." Tony scowled.

Steve laughed. It felt good. He reached out and slapped a hand down on Tony's shoulder. "Whatever they call it these days, in my time we called it getting hitched. Happened to some of the best guys I knew." He laughed again as Tony squirmed under his grip, then let go.

"Yeah yeah. Even my father leveled up, and he never wanted to get married."

Hearing about Howard was not quite as painful as talking about Bucky, and it was a rare day that Tony opened up about his father. Steve kept quiet, nodding to show he was listening.

"I mean, I think he cared for mom. Every once in a while I'd catch them talking about something, politics usually or engineering, and I could tell they were friends deep down under all the disappointment and anger. They liked each other, even if they didn't want to in the end. And I know he loved me…not like most dads would, it was pretty clear he had no earthly clue what to do with me, but yeah. He tried, sometimes. But see, that's the thing, I always got the feeling he did it—wife, kid, nanny, boarding school—because that was just what he was supposed to do. And I…I don't want to do that." He looked lost and sad for a moment, before sharpening up again. "God. Not what you needed to hear tonight, Cap. I came out to see how you were doing with the whole Winter Soldier thing."

Steve looked down at his cityscape, a violent sketch in reds, oranges and black, a city bleeding its heart out on the page. "I could probably do better." He closed the book.

Tony frowned and settled back in the chair. "You want to talk about it? Because I'm honestly kind of a poor choice for that. But I'm here. Or we could talk about me…although I'd need a drink if we go that way."

"You already said it, Tony: Bucky was my sidekick. Dead and forgotten, even Phil doesn't know that much about him. Did you know he practically lived with me? At my flat?"

"At Rogers' House? No, had no idea. How did that work? That room is a fucking closet, could you even fit a full grown man in there?" Tony's lips quirked up at the corner.

"Yeah yeah, I was a runt. Make a joke I haven't heard, Stark, go ahead and try." Steve huffed out a small laugh. "But to me the place is half empty. I had an electric percolator I smuggled in, cost me a week's pay, but gave it to the McLeod boys when I shipped out for boot camp. Spread out my groceries with everyone there, no reason to let it all rot while I was at war. Mrs. Jameson got my ration books, she had three kids and a shiftless drunk for a husband. She—" He stopped, horrified.

"Steve?"

He closed his eyes. "She watched out for me. She was a newer tenant but took a shine to the small guy, you know? When I told her I got into the Army she promised to put a blue star banner in the window for me. Shit."

Tony spread his hands. "You lost me."

"It's a flag you put in the window to show you have a family member in the military. Blue star for each person at war, and you change them to gold if they die in service. She felt bad that I had no one to do that for me, no one left to care that I was doing my duty." Steve leaned back in the chair and held the quiet for a long moment, remembering the frail woman who always seemed so grateful for even the smallest kindness. "That's what was missing at the museum, all those parts of me I took for granted. And Bucky was part of that, the biggest part, and he wasn't there at all."

Tony let out a long breath. "There really isn't any part of your life that isn't fucking tragic."

Steve tipped his head to look over at Tony. "Thanks for sugar coating that for me, bub."

"I'm the guy missing half his chest. Have you seen my x-rays? It's like pick-up stix in here." He tapped the glowing disk in his chest. "If you want sugar coating, we have to call in…someone else. Not anyone on our team, we're all assholes. Even Pepper, although she's classy about it. Hmm. Thor will explain how fucked you are in iambic pentameter so glorious you'll forget that you're fucked, that might work. Or you know what, forget it. You're just fucked."

"Yeah." Steve looked back at the horizon. They sat in companionable silence for a while. "So you gonna propose or not?"

Tony coughed so hard he sat up.

"I didn't mean me! I meant Pepper!" Steve practically yelled.

Tony waved his hands around while trying to breathe. "Don't do that to a guy!"

"I meant Pepper!"

"And here I got my hopes up," Tony said with a comical leer that seemed a little forced.

Steve rolled his eyes obligingly.

"I am not going to propose, to you or to Pepper or to anyone. So no." Tony leaned back in the chair again.

"Congratulations, you're nothing like your father."

Tony actually looked caught off guard. "What?"

"Howard once told me that he would get married, whether he wanted to or not. Wife and kids, that was expected of him and by God he was going to meet his obligations. But not you, nope, you don't want to get married so you're not gonna. Good choice." Steve pulled his arms up and rested his hands behind his head, waiting.

"Fuck you if you're trying to use reverse psychology on me. I don't want to get married because I don't want to get married."

"Good."

"Fine."

Steve waited.

"Dad didn't want to get married but he did; I don't want to get married and I'm not. See? Completely different."

"That argument only works if you don't actually want to get married, Tony." Steve grinned.

"I don't!"

"You're the one who suggested you were."

"I was just running my mouth!" Tony yelled.

Pepper's cool voice drifted over to them from the elevator. "Nothing new there. What have you done now, Tony?"

"Nothing!"

Steve gave Pepper a raised eyebrow as she walked up to where they were seated.

"God damn it Rogers, you keep your fucking mouth shut," Tony growled, pointing at him aggressively.

"Oh, now, that doesn't make me suspicious at all." Pepper quirked her eyebrow right back at Steve.

"Steve's baiting me. He's ganging up on me." Tony pouted, and he was almost adorable. Steve tried not to laugh.

Pepper shook her head. "There is only one of each of you, he can't 'gang up' on you."

"Have you looked at him lately? He's easily two of me. Three of you! Definitely 'ganging up' and I do not mean in the 'gang bang' kind of way, which would be a different conversation entirely."

Steve palmed his face while Pepper groaned. "What have I told you about topics not meant for conversation?"

"You always side against me." Tony flopped back into his chair.

Pepper simply smiled and sat down on the edge of Tony's lounge chair so she was facing Steve. "I was hoping you would side with me in going for dinner."

"That time?" Tony squinted out across the darkening landscape. "Hey, I guess so. C'mon, Rogers, let's see what the chef has set out for tonight."

"I think she went with Indian curry," Pepper said.

Even after living in the tower for so many months, it still felt odd to Steve to have someone else cooking for him every day. It was like living in a restaurant, and while Tony still liked to order out for pizza or Chinese on a regular basis, most of the time food just appeared and the dirty dishes disappeared and Steve's sense of justice, still so closely aligned with the labor movements of his youth, always felt guilty about that. And he was not quite through with being artistic and moody, he thought to himself with no small amount of chagrin. "Save me a plate."

"Ah, she'll leave the sideboard out until you eat. You make her feel useful, licking the pans the way you do." Tony tugged at Pepper's hips until she scooted onto his lap, laughing softly.

Steve flipped the page in his notebook and sketched idly as Tony bickered about dessert and Pepper swatted at his wandering hands, because Tony simply had no concept of "socially appropriate," especially in the private sphere of the tower. The sun had set while they talked and the outdoor lights were on, just bright enough for Steve to see what he was working on but not so much that they intruded on the comfortable mood that had settled over him. He looked up to see Pepper leaning against Tony's chest, wrapped up in his arms while they murmured to each other in low voices. Steve kept sketching, his hands marking familiar territory in mapping out their bodies, and relaxing in the warm familiarity of it all. It was no different than the nights Bucky had sat on his bed reading Amazing Stories while Steve practiced drawing and the neighbors two apartments over played radio comedy shows loud enough for the whole floor to hear. He stopped after a few minutes, realizing where his thoughts had gone, and stared at the romantic drawing in his hands of Tony and Pepper nuzzling like newlyweds.

"I'm heading in," he offered pointlessly as he stood up, tucking his book under his arm and aiming for the elevator.

"Steve." Tony's voice was oddly stern.

Steve faced him again. Pepper was still on his lap, looking confused.

"We'll bring Bucky in alive. I promise. You're not going to lose him again, not on my watch." Tony's hands clinched tightly around Pepper's waist. "Not on my watch."

"Thanks, Tony." Steve nodded in acknowledgment, then turned and left them alone.