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... So I've been meaning to try Steve & Tony for a while now. *grins sheepishly* Um. Here you go?
Title: Yesterday's Tommorows, Today
Rating: PG
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, discussion of Howard Stark. Steve & Tony
Summary: Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a small conversation on history, technology, living in the future, and the dreams of futures past
Wordcount: 2200
Warnings/Notes: Old pulp sci-fi, me being bad at technology?
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Yesterday's Tommorows, Today
Rating: PG
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, discussion of Howard Stark. Steve & Tony
Summary: Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a small conversation on history, technology, living in the future, and the dreams of futures past
Wordcount: 2200
Warnings/Notes: Old pulp sci-fi, me being bad at technology?
Disclaimer: Not mine
Yesterday's Tomorrows, Today
"Hey, Cap!"
Stark strode up and swung around to brace his back against the railing beside Steve, casually dismissing the fairly spectacular view out the Helicarrier windows in order to focus the full strength of his gaze on the side of Steve's face.
"So," he said, cheerfully ignoring Steve's look of askance. "How's the future been treating you?"
Steve ... resisted the urge to grimace. Any number of answers to that question springing to mind, very few of them polite. The past couple of months had been full of nice people attempting to explain to him, just for example, the concept of a camera phone as though he had never heard of a radio or a camera, and could not possibly grasp the concept of someone having somehow smushed them together into an ugly little plastic rectangle. Or worse, as though being from the past somehow meant he couldn't grasp the idea of 'point and click'. He was a soldier. 'Point and click' was generally considered to be in the repertoire.
So. Yes. There were a few answers he could give to that question. Some of which he probably shouldn't voice in mixed company, and none of which he thought Tony Stark, technologist extraordinaire, would really appreciate.
Then again ...
He looked sidelong at the man. Who, yes, was still grinning pointedly at him, one elbow braced back on the railing, the whole cant of his body casual and friendly. The grin itself was over the top, edged and glittering, visibly fake, but there wasn't cruelty around it. Or challenge, the way there had been at the start. Steve had ... a lot of experience being laughed at, fake smiles with nothing but pity or malice above them.
The smile Stark was sending him now wasn't that kind of fake. It was shined up some for the audience, for the SHIELD agents in the gallery behind them who were doing a real good job of pretending they weren't watching the pair of them like gossipy hawks, but there was real humour around it, and more than a hint of knowing.
Remembering the man who'd talked him through resetting the controls for a massive super-futuristic engine without ever treating Steve like he was more of an idiot than, well, anyone else Stark ever came in contact with, and remembering that his last 'tutorial' with a SHIELD agent had ended with some earthy language and a polite request for the man to shove his MP3 player somewhere unmentionable, yes, they had music in the 40s, thank you ... Steve had a sudden suspicion that Stark had known exactly what he was asking, and exactly what Steve wanted to say about it.
Which was ... nice, maybe, but you kinda had to wonder about a man whose version of 'making nice' involved giving people the chance to yell at someone who wasn't going to mind.
But just for that ...
"Actually, it's been kind of disappointing," he said, turning to face Stark fully, with a little bit of a shined-up grin of his own. Flashing to something real, maybe, when Stark's eyebrows bounced up into his hairline for a second, and came down into a suspicious squint.
"Really," Stark murmured, with a little twitch of his mouth that might have been part worry, watching Steve's eyes like he was looking for the malice above the grin himself. Like he wasn't unfamiliar with being laughed at. The twitch spread into a soft, startled smile when Stark caught the involuntary wince of apology over Steve's face, and then back into a grin, sharper and more wicked than ever. The kind of grin you give a man you know is joking, and you're the only one who knows.
"Really," Steve confirmed, with a very convincing imitation of seriousness that he'd learned off Bucky, way back when. It had proven useful for driving Colonel Phillips up the wall. Mind you, Steve had always suspected that Phillips had known what was what all along. Any man who can casually tell you he ain't gonna kiss you goodbye had to have a sense of humour, somewhere under there.
Stark grinned, real and broad and bright, leaning in conspiratorially. "Well, don't leave us hanging, Rogers," he exclaimed, waving his free hand out from his chest as if to encompass all the marvels of the Helicarrier. "Which of our myriad modern marvels hasn't come up to scratch?" He did his own, very passable, imitation of seriousness. "Here at Stark Industries, we pride ourselves on bringing you the future of your choice, tailored to your specifications."
And it was said with such calm, pompous aplomb that Steve couldn't help the snort, turning his head hurriedly to avoid laughing in the man's face. Stark's grin went wide and satisfied regardless, a smug, lazy expression that matched his pose perfectly.
"Do you really say that?" Steve asked, looking back at him, still shaking his head slightly. "Because I've done the dancing monkey part myself, but really?"
Stark grinned, waving a hand absently. "It's not the main slogan, no," he said, settling back. "But you need that shit for interviews. Nonsense on a theme. It's real, mind. I will actually build you a future, give me time. But we've been selling it for a while now, you know."
Steve smiled distantly, leaning back alongside him. "Yeah," he said, remembering another man, selling another future, shilling for the crowds with the exact same aplomb, and the same shine of vision in his eyes. "Yeah, I know."
He did remember. And maybe it was the wrong thing to say, for the lopsided turn of this Stark, Tony's, grin, but Steve did know.
"Like that, huh?" Tony asked, his smile strange and crooked, but still soft. Still without the desperate, angry challenge of the first few meetings. "Someone sell you a future they couldn't live up to, Rogers?"
Steve shook his head. No. Well. A little. But that hadn't been Howard's fault. Steve knew that. None of the futures anyone had promised, back then, had been anything like the one he got.
Steve figured that was just the way of things. Nothing ... ever turned out just like what you planned. And nobody, not even a Stark, could change that.
He didn't think that was something you could say to Tony, though. He'd gotten the distinct impression that the man would take it as a challenge, and that probably couldn't go anywhere good. Given the things the man came up with without anything to egg him on at all.
On the other hand ...
"Where are all the flying cars?" he asked, turning back to Stark, putting back on that false disappointment, maybe a touch of earnest seriousness. The USO really had taught him a thing or two in his time. Though he kind of was asking partly in earnest. "I'm pretty sure I was promised a flying car within the decade, and that was what, sixty years ago?" He tutted, shaking his head into Tony's grin. "You're falling down on me, Stark."
Tony laughed, short and startled, hiking himself up on the railing. Steve could feel eyes swing more openly their way, could feel the various stares of the surrounding agents fixing on them, but he didn't much care. Compared to the wary, false grin of earlier, he thought a real smile did wonders for the man.
"You ..." Tony shook his head, his eyes creasing desperately. "You gotta stop reading comic books, Rogers. You can't believe everything they promise you, you know."
Steve raised an eyebrow, and looked pointedly around him. At the pair of superheroes standing on the viewing gallery of a futuristic flying aircraft carrier. "Really," he said, slow and heavy and bright, and Stark snorted.
"Okay, fine, I'll grant you that one. Fine. But. Planes, Rogers. Helicopters. Even, yes, flying aircraft carriers, and I'll have you know that one was not my idea, talk to the SHIELD pilots, I'll bet they'll give you a lot of opinions on that one. Anyway. My point being, alternate technological paths, yes?" He paused, the lopsided quirk coming back to his lips. "Really, though? You were supposed to have flying cars by ... the 1950s? Seriously?"
Steve frowned, wondering suddenly ... "Did Howard not do anything with it, then?" he asked, and this wasn't stage seriousness, he really was asking. "I mean, what I saw of the first model wasn't exactly anything to write home about. It only stayed in the air for half a minute. But still ..."
Tony stared at him, blinking rapidly. "Woah," he said, straightening up. "Back up the bus. You mean my dad had a prototype? A prototype flying car? In, what, 1940?"
"1942," Steve corrected, blinking a little. "He was shilling it at the technological fair in New York. It wasn't complete, I don't think. Like I said, he only got a couple of feet of lift, and only about a minute out of it. And I only saw it in passing. But ..."
"I can't believe this," Tony interrupted, his eyes going distant and thoughtful. And pissed off. "I cannot believe this. All the things he showed me, fifty different ways to blow shit up ..." He paused, considered. "Well, no, okay. Blowing shit up is always cool. But. All the things my dad showed me, and he never thought to mention the dieselpunk flying car??"
Steve blinked at him, a bit bemused by the sudden vehemence. And, maybe, a little amused. "So," he said, slowly. "I'm guessing Howard didn't do anything about it, then?" The look Tony shot him for that was ... eloquent, and Steve stifled a smile, a little bit. "Maybe it was like you said? Alternate technological paths? Maybe he just got distracted after the war?"
After the war. That was ... still strange to say, in many ways. And something else, too, because Tony winced, a little. A flicker of something dark and tired running across his face.
"Yeah, maybe," he said, softly. "Dad didn't talk so much about before the war. Just ... Mostly just about during it."
And there was something there, something Steve wasn't getting, but looking at Tony, and looking around the gallery, he didn't think it was something he should try and explore right now. He wasn't sure it was something that was his to explore at all.
"Sorry," he offered, quietly. For what, he had no idea, whatever it was that meant 'after the war' for Howard, whatever had happened 'during' and 'after' that led to the world the way it had been when Steve woke up in it.
Nothing that was his to apologise for, maybe, but ... he was the only one who'd been there. So maybe he was the only one who could.
Tony looked at him. Blinked up, met Steve's eyes with that weird, wary look again. Searching for the malice in someone's eyes, or the pity. Finding neither. Tony looked up at him, and smiled.
"Nah," he said, waving a dismissive hand carefully, cautiously. "Not your deal, Rogers. No worries." His face twitched, like he was trying for too many expressions at once, and then smoothed. Blanked for a second, and came back with a smile that was back to breezy and casual and shined up for the audience.
Steve considered being offended. But Tony's eyes were still distant, putting a shine on to look more there than they were, and he thought ... He thought that probably wasn't his deal either, really.
"So," Tony said, clapping his hands and leaning back against the railing, casual and conspiratorial once more. "Prototype flying car, Rogers. You had what, a whole minute to look at it? Talk dirty to me, baby. The way it looked, the sound it made, design, any mechanics you remember? Something, anything. I can't build shit until you tell me what you're looking for."
Steve blinked. Took a second to parse that, and then ... "Wait, what?" He stared at the man, stared at the slow, wicked grin spreading over his features. "You're going to build me a ...?"
Tony laughed, rich and deep. "Hell yeah," he said, with that familiar shine of vision and smug pride in his eyes. "The future's let you down, Cap. Can't have that. Let me build you a better one." He shook his head, the quirk of his lip turning sly, self-knowing, and smiled sidelong over at Steve. "Plus. Dieselpunk flying car, and a chance to one-up my dad? I will build you a fleet, if you want one."
Steve ... shook his head. Let the smile bubble up, the vague disbelief and distant admiration for anyone who could be as shamelessly honest as the man before him. He shook his head, looking out over the gallery, and their audience, and the future spread out around them, with all its frustrations and its joys.
"Just the one, please," he said, as he looked back at Tony. Letting there be just a touch of exasperation, and just the smallest hint of a smile. "And Tony?"
He paused, slow and thoughtful, and then let his smile grow wider, and all the way to real.
"The future's just fine," he said, soft and serious, and watched as the shadow of real delight slipped over the shine of the other man's grin.
"Hey, Cap!"
Stark strode up and swung around to brace his back against the railing beside Steve, casually dismissing the fairly spectacular view out the Helicarrier windows in order to focus the full strength of his gaze on the side of Steve's face.
"So," he said, cheerfully ignoring Steve's look of askance. "How's the future been treating you?"
Steve ... resisted the urge to grimace. Any number of answers to that question springing to mind, very few of them polite. The past couple of months had been full of nice people attempting to explain to him, just for example, the concept of a camera phone as though he had never heard of a radio or a camera, and could not possibly grasp the concept of someone having somehow smushed them together into an ugly little plastic rectangle. Or worse, as though being from the past somehow meant he couldn't grasp the idea of 'point and click'. He was a soldier. 'Point and click' was generally considered to be in the repertoire.
So. Yes. There were a few answers he could give to that question. Some of which he probably shouldn't voice in mixed company, and none of which he thought Tony Stark, technologist extraordinaire, would really appreciate.
Then again ...
He looked sidelong at the man. Who, yes, was still grinning pointedly at him, one elbow braced back on the railing, the whole cant of his body casual and friendly. The grin itself was over the top, edged and glittering, visibly fake, but there wasn't cruelty around it. Or challenge, the way there had been at the start. Steve had ... a lot of experience being laughed at, fake smiles with nothing but pity or malice above them.
The smile Stark was sending him now wasn't that kind of fake. It was shined up some for the audience, for the SHIELD agents in the gallery behind them who were doing a real good job of pretending they weren't watching the pair of them like gossipy hawks, but there was real humour around it, and more than a hint of knowing.
Remembering the man who'd talked him through resetting the controls for a massive super-futuristic engine without ever treating Steve like he was more of an idiot than, well, anyone else Stark ever came in contact with, and remembering that his last 'tutorial' with a SHIELD agent had ended with some earthy language and a polite request for the man to shove his MP3 player somewhere unmentionable, yes, they had music in the 40s, thank you ... Steve had a sudden suspicion that Stark had known exactly what he was asking, and exactly what Steve wanted to say about it.
Which was ... nice, maybe, but you kinda had to wonder about a man whose version of 'making nice' involved giving people the chance to yell at someone who wasn't going to mind.
But just for that ...
"Actually, it's been kind of disappointing," he said, turning to face Stark fully, with a little bit of a shined-up grin of his own. Flashing to something real, maybe, when Stark's eyebrows bounced up into his hairline for a second, and came down into a suspicious squint.
"Really," Stark murmured, with a little twitch of his mouth that might have been part worry, watching Steve's eyes like he was looking for the malice above the grin himself. Like he wasn't unfamiliar with being laughed at. The twitch spread into a soft, startled smile when Stark caught the involuntary wince of apology over Steve's face, and then back into a grin, sharper and more wicked than ever. The kind of grin you give a man you know is joking, and you're the only one who knows.
"Really," Steve confirmed, with a very convincing imitation of seriousness that he'd learned off Bucky, way back when. It had proven useful for driving Colonel Phillips up the wall. Mind you, Steve had always suspected that Phillips had known what was what all along. Any man who can casually tell you he ain't gonna kiss you goodbye had to have a sense of humour, somewhere under there.
Stark grinned, real and broad and bright, leaning in conspiratorially. "Well, don't leave us hanging, Rogers," he exclaimed, waving his free hand out from his chest as if to encompass all the marvels of the Helicarrier. "Which of our myriad modern marvels hasn't come up to scratch?" He did his own, very passable, imitation of seriousness. "Here at Stark Industries, we pride ourselves on bringing you the future of your choice, tailored to your specifications."
And it was said with such calm, pompous aplomb that Steve couldn't help the snort, turning his head hurriedly to avoid laughing in the man's face. Stark's grin went wide and satisfied regardless, a smug, lazy expression that matched his pose perfectly.
"Do you really say that?" Steve asked, looking back at him, still shaking his head slightly. "Because I've done the dancing monkey part myself, but really?"
Stark grinned, waving a hand absently. "It's not the main slogan, no," he said, settling back. "But you need that shit for interviews. Nonsense on a theme. It's real, mind. I will actually build you a future, give me time. But we've been selling it for a while now, you know."
Steve smiled distantly, leaning back alongside him. "Yeah," he said, remembering another man, selling another future, shilling for the crowds with the exact same aplomb, and the same shine of vision in his eyes. "Yeah, I know."
He did remember. And maybe it was the wrong thing to say, for the lopsided turn of this Stark, Tony's, grin, but Steve did know.
"Like that, huh?" Tony asked, his smile strange and crooked, but still soft. Still without the desperate, angry challenge of the first few meetings. "Someone sell you a future they couldn't live up to, Rogers?"
Steve shook his head. No. Well. A little. But that hadn't been Howard's fault. Steve knew that. None of the futures anyone had promised, back then, had been anything like the one he got.
Steve figured that was just the way of things. Nothing ... ever turned out just like what you planned. And nobody, not even a Stark, could change that.
He didn't think that was something you could say to Tony, though. He'd gotten the distinct impression that the man would take it as a challenge, and that probably couldn't go anywhere good. Given the things the man came up with without anything to egg him on at all.
On the other hand ...
"Where are all the flying cars?" he asked, turning back to Stark, putting back on that false disappointment, maybe a touch of earnest seriousness. The USO really had taught him a thing or two in his time. Though he kind of was asking partly in earnest. "I'm pretty sure I was promised a flying car within the decade, and that was what, sixty years ago?" He tutted, shaking his head into Tony's grin. "You're falling down on me, Stark."
Tony laughed, short and startled, hiking himself up on the railing. Steve could feel eyes swing more openly their way, could feel the various stares of the surrounding agents fixing on them, but he didn't much care. Compared to the wary, false grin of earlier, he thought a real smile did wonders for the man.
"You ..." Tony shook his head, his eyes creasing desperately. "You gotta stop reading comic books, Rogers. You can't believe everything they promise you, you know."
Steve raised an eyebrow, and looked pointedly around him. At the pair of superheroes standing on the viewing gallery of a futuristic flying aircraft carrier. "Really," he said, slow and heavy and bright, and Stark snorted.
"Okay, fine, I'll grant you that one. Fine. But. Planes, Rogers. Helicopters. Even, yes, flying aircraft carriers, and I'll have you know that one was not my idea, talk to the SHIELD pilots, I'll bet they'll give you a lot of opinions on that one. Anyway. My point being, alternate technological paths, yes?" He paused, the lopsided quirk coming back to his lips. "Really, though? You were supposed to have flying cars by ... the 1950s? Seriously?"
Steve frowned, wondering suddenly ... "Did Howard not do anything with it, then?" he asked, and this wasn't stage seriousness, he really was asking. "I mean, what I saw of the first model wasn't exactly anything to write home about. It only stayed in the air for half a minute. But still ..."
Tony stared at him, blinking rapidly. "Woah," he said, straightening up. "Back up the bus. You mean my dad had a prototype? A prototype flying car? In, what, 1940?"
"1942," Steve corrected, blinking a little. "He was shilling it at the technological fair in New York. It wasn't complete, I don't think. Like I said, he only got a couple of feet of lift, and only about a minute out of it. And I only saw it in passing. But ..."
"I can't believe this," Tony interrupted, his eyes going distant and thoughtful. And pissed off. "I cannot believe this. All the things he showed me, fifty different ways to blow shit up ..." He paused, considered. "Well, no, okay. Blowing shit up is always cool. But. All the things my dad showed me, and he never thought to mention the dieselpunk flying car??"
Steve blinked at him, a bit bemused by the sudden vehemence. And, maybe, a little amused. "So," he said, slowly. "I'm guessing Howard didn't do anything about it, then?" The look Tony shot him for that was ... eloquent, and Steve stifled a smile, a little bit. "Maybe it was like you said? Alternate technological paths? Maybe he just got distracted after the war?"
After the war. That was ... still strange to say, in many ways. And something else, too, because Tony winced, a little. A flicker of something dark and tired running across his face.
"Yeah, maybe," he said, softly. "Dad didn't talk so much about before the war. Just ... Mostly just about during it."
And there was something there, something Steve wasn't getting, but looking at Tony, and looking around the gallery, he didn't think it was something he should try and explore right now. He wasn't sure it was something that was his to explore at all.
"Sorry," he offered, quietly. For what, he had no idea, whatever it was that meant 'after the war' for Howard, whatever had happened 'during' and 'after' that led to the world the way it had been when Steve woke up in it.
Nothing that was his to apologise for, maybe, but ... he was the only one who'd been there. So maybe he was the only one who could.
Tony looked at him. Blinked up, met Steve's eyes with that weird, wary look again. Searching for the malice in someone's eyes, or the pity. Finding neither. Tony looked up at him, and smiled.
"Nah," he said, waving a dismissive hand carefully, cautiously. "Not your deal, Rogers. No worries." His face twitched, like he was trying for too many expressions at once, and then smoothed. Blanked for a second, and came back with a smile that was back to breezy and casual and shined up for the audience.
Steve considered being offended. But Tony's eyes were still distant, putting a shine on to look more there than they were, and he thought ... He thought that probably wasn't his deal either, really.
"So," Tony said, clapping his hands and leaning back against the railing, casual and conspiratorial once more. "Prototype flying car, Rogers. You had what, a whole minute to look at it? Talk dirty to me, baby. The way it looked, the sound it made, design, any mechanics you remember? Something, anything. I can't build shit until you tell me what you're looking for."
Steve blinked. Took a second to parse that, and then ... "Wait, what?" He stared at the man, stared at the slow, wicked grin spreading over his features. "You're going to build me a ...?"
Tony laughed, rich and deep. "Hell yeah," he said, with that familiar shine of vision and smug pride in his eyes. "The future's let you down, Cap. Can't have that. Let me build you a better one." He shook his head, the quirk of his lip turning sly, self-knowing, and smiled sidelong over at Steve. "Plus. Dieselpunk flying car, and a chance to one-up my dad? I will build you a fleet, if you want one."
Steve ... shook his head. Let the smile bubble up, the vague disbelief and distant admiration for anyone who could be as shamelessly honest as the man before him. He shook his head, looking out over the gallery, and their audience, and the future spread out around them, with all its frustrations and its joys.
"Just the one, please," he said, as he looked back at Tony. Letting there be just a touch of exasperation, and just the smallest hint of a smile. "And Tony?"
He paused, slow and thoughtful, and then let his smile grow wider, and all the way to real.
"The future's just fine," he said, soft and serious, and watched as the shadow of real delight slipped over the shine of the other man's grin.
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