Tony was born with that name. He knew from the stories that as soon as his mother got him in her arms, she checked both his wrists. And indeed, on his left hand, a name was written in bright, almost silvery lines. When his mother saw it, she smiled and hugged her son tightly. She didn't care what his soulmate's name was, she was just glad he had one. She had heard stories of children who were born without a name, of children whose soulmate’s name didn't appear in the years that followed. She knew stories of people who were doomed to never find a person who fully understood them.
When his father saw his soulmate’s name for the first time, he laughed. Not happily, not cheerfully, but bitterly. And then he just declared that it was a very bad joke indeed. His mother had never said it, but Tony was sure his father had been watching him at the time, acting like it was Tony’s fault.
---
Tony was four years old. He was lying with his mother outside on a blanket, his head resting on her shoulder, holding her hand above him. He traced the letters on the inside of her wrist with his fingers, spelling out the name it said. He always paused on the double-u and frowned deeply. Mama laughed softly.
"Daddy has a complicated name, doesn't he?"
"He doesn't!" he drawled, and tried again. Maria gave him a hint and he did the rest on his own. He could spell, he could! He could spell the longest word in the Paddington Bear book his mother read to him at bedtime. Only the double-u sometimes gave him trouble.
He let go of her hand and looked at his own. He pointed with his finger and spelled it slowly. He liked the way it sounded. It was a nice name, even if it was a boy’s name.
"Why do I have a boy's name?" He wondered. "You have a boy's name on your hand too, but you're a girl. And Uncle Obi is a boy and has a girl's name. And the kindergarten teacher is a girl and has a boy's name. But I am a boy and I have a boy's name here," he pointed to the bright letters marking his wrist. "Why?"
"Because your soulmate is a boy," his mom explained with a smile. Tony frowned.
"But then I won't have kids."
"A soulmate doesn't have to be the person you marry and have a family with, Tony."
"No?"
"Of course not," she assured him, stroking his cheek. "Look at Aunt Amelia, for instance. She married Uncle Horace, but she has her best friend's name on her wrist."
Tony beamed and looked at his wrist with satisfaction. "So that would be my best friend!"
"Exactly."
"And you think it's really Captain America?" He asked in a whisper, looking around to make sure no one was listening. Then he leaned in and whispered even more softly. "Because that would be grandiose!"
He liked the word grandiose, and so did his mother, because she always smiled broadly, sometimes even laughed, and repeated the word to herself. Yeah, grandiose was a great word.
"No, Biscottino, it's not Captain America."
"Why not? I have his name right here, on my arm!" He insisted stubbornly, waving his hand in front of her face. Mama smiled, grabbed his hand, and gently bit his finger. Tony squealed.
"Because God has already called Captain America to heaven, you know?" She explained patiently, stroking his hair. "That's why it can't be Captain America."
"But I have his name right here," he tried again, but this time he stayed away so his mother wouldn't eat him again. She sighed, watched him for a moment, and finally stood up.
"Wait here, I'll be right back."
Mommy was back in moments, carrying a huge book full of yellow pages. Tony sometimes used it as a stool when he wanted to spy on the gardener from that big window on the second floor. The cover of the book showed his footprints. He grinned from ear to ear, and his mother tickled his side and sat down next to him.
"Okay, these are the golden pages. All the people's phone numbers are in there! Look," she urged him, opening the book and looking for something for a moment. Then she pointed to a column. Tony didn't see anything interesting, just the letters, which were the same on every line.
"Thomas Smith," he read, frowning. "Who's Thomas Smith?"
"I don't know. But look how many there are. Count with me."
They counted eight. And Harry Smith was there six times. And Anna Smith ten times. Tony frowned.
"See how many people there are with the same name? So it's going to be the same with Captain America. He couldn't be the only Steve Rogers in the world."
"Then let's find my Steve Rogers!" Tony decided, and started flipping through the pages. Mom laughed.
"Honey, your Steve Rogers will be a little boy just like you. He won't be written here."
Tony was upset. He crossed his arms over his chest like he always saw Daddy do, frowned as hard as he could and pouted. "That's not fair."
"You'll meet him when the right time comes. Captain America would be too old for you. He could be your grandfather."
"I don't have a grandfather!" Tony continued to complain. Mom tilted her head and squinted her eyes.
"Okay, Captain America is your soulmate. He'll be your grandfather, telling you war stories and bringing you taffy."
"Yeah!" He exclaimed excitedly, raising his hands above his head. His mother immediately pounced on him and tried to eat him. Tony squealed.
---
Tony was six when his parents sent him to boarding school. He and the other boys sat on two beds that first night, and those who already had their soulmate's name written in their skin had their hands in the middle, palms facing up. There were some who didn't have a name yet, and they just stared open-mouthed.
"Hey, you have Captain America's name there!" one of them exclaimed. They all immediately bent over Tony's hand.
"Really! Captain America!"
"That's not Captain America," Tony frowned. "He’s been dead for a long time."
"You're going to date a guy, Stark?" Another one of them asked. They all burst out laughing. Tony’s ears were all red, furious and ashamed. He quickly pulled his sleeve down to his fingers and glared at everyone in anger. He opened his mouth to tell them what his mother had once told him, but no one listened. They shouted over each other, some making fun of the fact that his soulmate was long dead, and others making fun of the fact that his soulmate is a boy.
When he transferred to another school two years later, he didn't engage in similar activity. He lay on his bed, reading and listening to others dream about how beautiful and wonderful their soulmate would be. Some had even met them already.
"How about you, Tony?"
Tony shot a glance to his left hand before returning his attention to the book. "I don't have one."
No one asked him again. He was eight, a kid among all those high school kids, but smarter than all of them. It was already making him a weirdo. But an eight-year-old with no name? That was rarely seen, and usually meant he was one of the poor souls who didn't have a soulmate.
---
Tony was fifteen. He'd gone to MIT, swept up one party after another, argued with teachers, and gotten used to wearing a watch with a wide strap that reliably hid the name on his wrist. Captain America was still a legend, and he wasn't about to listen to stupid jokes.
Sometime around that time, he met Mary. They ran into each other at one of the student events. She was three years older, studying microbiology, and Tony was head over heels. They met a couple of times, he took her to the movies to see The Shining, and they ended up in her dorm. Needless to say, it was his first intimate experience.
They lay next to each other afterwards, Mary smoking and Tony watching her hands. Both of her wrists were empty.
"He died," she muttered. "Before we could bump into each other. One day his name was just gone. I was eight, didn't really understand. My grandmother was bawling more than I was at the time, lamenting how unfortunate it was. No other name reappeared. And the older I get, the more I think it's never going to appear."
She watched the window, touching the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist and frowning. Her eyes were green, big with long lashes. And shoulder-length blond hair. She was beautiful and sad, and Tony didn't know what to do.
"What about you?" She finally asked, putting her cigarette down in the ashtray. "You wear your watch all the time. What are you hiding?"
Tony hesitated. For a moment he thought he'd just lie and tell her he didn't have a name either, but that wasn't fair. Sighing, he took the watch off and allowed her to look. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile, but she didn't say anything. She just entwined her fingers with his and pulled him in for a kiss. She tasted like cigarettes.
---
Tony was thirty-five, and thanks to the Internet and access to various databases, he had figured out that there were currently five men named Steve Rogers living in the entire world. One of them was a three-month-old baby boy, the other two were teenagers, one in his twenties and one in his thirties. In other words, they were all younger than Tony, and that was a problem. He'd already been born with the name, which meant his soulmate had to be at least a few minutes older than him.
Never mind.
Maybe he hadn't found them all.
---
Tony was in his 40s and had been through a lot. He'd earned two master's degrees, taken over his father's company, and the whole world knew him. He was a philanthropist and a billionaire and a playboy. He'd been through Afghanistan and had an arc reactor glowing from his chest for several years now. The whole world knew him as Iron Man. And yet he still hadn't found his soul mate.
He liked to delude himself that he no longer thought of that name. He simply forgot about the silver lines on his wrist and instead enjoyed life to the fullest. But it wasn't true. He knew the name very well, and the older he got, the more he hoped he would meet this Steve Rogers at least once. He wasn't a child anymore and he knew his soulmate couldn't be Captain America. Also, no one ever picked on him for it anymore. Everyone knew Captain America was long gone. He was still celebrated and taken as a national icon, but no one could deny that his name was slowly but surely fading.
---
Tony met Agent Coulson and Nick Fury, saw SHIELD, and learned that it was his father who helped found SHIELD. A new world was opening up to him that he wasn't sure whether he wanted to know about it.
---
"Stark, you want to see this."
Tony was forty-one. Fury's phone call was short, strange and unsettling, but Tony got in his car and drove to SHIELD base anyway. Coulson was already waiting for him, and though he did his best to keep a straight face, Tony couldn't shake the impression that Coulson was as excited about something as a little boy.
He led him to a room full of agents and doctors. At first Tony couldn't see over the barrage of white coats and black bulletproof vests, but when the people in front of him finally parted, his breath caught in his throat.
There was a man lying on a hospital bed. Tony had never seen him with his own eyes, but he knew he was Captain America. He hadn't aged a day.
"How is this possible?" He muttered, walking closer. The machines beeped, Tony could clearly see Captain's pulse. He really was alive.
"We found the plane he crashed," Coulson spoke up, standing at his side. "You ever heard of forest jumpers?"
Tony frowned. "Those frogs that freeze in the winter and thaw again in the summer?"
"Exactly. For all we know, something similar happened with Captain Rogers."
Tony touched Captain's hand with his fingertips, half expecting it to be icy and frozen. But the opposite was true, his skin under his fingers was abnormally hot and smooth. The skin on his wrist, just below the strap of his watch, began to tingle.
---
Tony was forty-one when Steve woke up. Fury had told him about his escape out into the modern world, and Tony had grinned painfully at that. He couldn't imagine in the slightest what it must have been like, but he guessed it wasn't a pleasant experience.
Steve was sitting on a bed in one of the quarters when Tony was led in. He was leaning his elbows on his knees, his fingers interlaced and his gaze fixed ahead of him. He looked up as Tony entered. His expression was wary, hostile and threatening, but Tony wasn't intimidated. He closed the door behind himself, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced back and forth. They didn't take their eyes off each other.
"I heard you tried to run off into the sunset."
Steve snorted bitterly and straightened up. "Who are you?"
"Someone who'd like to know how you are doing," Tony replied with feigned calm and grimaced. His stomach clenched with nervousness, though. "My name's Tony Stark."
For a moment nothing happened, just stares were exchanged. Tony expected to see some recognition, some realization in those stupid blue eyes. He hoped that when Steve heard the name, he would recognize it and know exactly who Tony was. But that didn't happen.
"Stark? Do you have something in common with Howard Stark?"
Tony's heart clenched painfully and he felt like he'd been slapped. Idiot, he thought. He allowed himself to hope, just for a moment, that he'd finally found the right Steve Rogers, whose name he'd carried on his own skin for the last forty years. But of course he was wrong. How could he have been so foolish?
He paused as another thought flashed through his mind. What if this Steve Rogers really was the one? But if he didn't recognize Tony, that would mean he didn't wear his name on his skin.
Tony had heard of such people. He'd heard of people whose soulmate was destined to somebody else, not them. It was the greatest misfortune that could happen. It was worse than never having a name. It was generally said of these people that they must have done something terrible in a past life to be punished like this...
Tony hid all his thoughts and feelings behind an amused smirk and shoved his hands into his pockets, his watch safely in place.
"Yeah, that was my dad."
Steve was born without the name of his soulmate. Sarah Rogers gently ran a finger over his eyebrows, watching his tiny hands rest on the sides of his head. Never mind, she whispered to him, they probably hadn't been born yet. It's okay, baby. You just have to be patient.
It was common, more babies were born without a name than with one. It wasn't until their soulmate was born and given a name which could be written into the other's skin. Everyone knew that. Still, Sarah was worried, afraid that Steve might be one of those unfortunate people for whom there was no one in this world who was meant for them.
---
Steve was ten years old and his wrists were still empty, unadorned with silver lines. It made him unhappy sometimes, and he wondered why he couldn't have a name like everyone else. It wasn't fair. Had he done something wrong? Was God punishing him for something?
"Mom?" He said, looking up from his drawing. He sat at the kitchen table while his mom stood at the stove, cooking them dinner.
"What is it, honey?"
"Why don't I have a name yet?"
Mom sighed, set the wooden spoon down on a plate and turned to him. A soft smile played on her lips. "Maybe your soulmate hasn't been born yet," she explained softly. Steve frowned.
"But I've waited for such a long time!"
"It happens sometimes, you know that. Look at Mrs. Fletcher. Her husband is twenty years older than she is."
"That's an awful lot," Steve frowned even more. "I don't want to wait twenty years."
"There's nothing you can do about it, Stevie. You just have to be patient. I'm sure God has plans for you."
He sighed, nodded, and went back to drawing. But he was still unhappy. He didn't want to be patient. He wanted to know the name of his soulmate right now.
---
Steve was fifteen. He was lying in bed in a fever, wheezing and watching the ceiling. His eyes flashed and he was absolutely sure he was delirious. There was a monkey swinging on the door and a river flowing in through the window. It roared and murmured, drops of water falling on his face. A dull pain throbbed in his head and his whole body felt like it was on fire. He longed to dive into that river, even if it was as dirty as Hudson.
"Steve? Can you hear me?"
He looked to the side and saw his mother's face. Worried and with wrinkles written in her face. She was pressing a wet cold towel to his face. So it wasn't a river after all?
"Mom," he choked softly, his throat scratching, "Mom, I think I'm going to die before that name appears."
"Don't say that!" She hissed in shock, wrapping his hands and feet in more wet towels. "Don't say anything like that! You'll be fine, it's just a fever. You've had worse."
"Never mind," he muttered with a weak smile and closed his eyes. "It's a good thing I don't have any. It wouldn't be fair."
---
Steve was twenty-five when he was finally recruited and met Peggy. He loved her. She amazed him from the first sight, she was strong and confident. And beautiful. But his wrists were blank and hers bore another man's name. He didn't dare court her, not only because he didn't know how, but because it wasn't right.
Yet they grew closer, they understood each other. One evening they sat together on the barracks steps, drinking beer and watching the stars.
"Sometimes I wish I didn't have this," she admitted quietly, rubbing the inside of her wrist. "It sounds terribly selfish, I know, but it's cruel, tying us to one person. It makes life strangely flat. You meet someone and you get on with them, but you still know they're not the one just because of the name."
Steve was silent. He was looking at the sky, his head throbbing slightly, and he felt like his own wrists were burning. He pulled them to his face and examined them carefully. Nothing.
"And I wish for nothing more than to get a name," he admitted in a whisper. Peggy smiled sadly and squeezed his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I didn't realize- I'm sorry."
Steve dropped his hands and shook his head. "It's okay," he assured her. "It's fate. Or God. There's nothing I can do about it."
---
Steve was twenty-six when Dr. Erskine came to see him in the ward. Steve couldn’t sleep. He was nervous, scared. He sat on the bed, reading, trying not to think about tomorrow. Dr. Erskine sat down across from him and admitted he felt the same way.
"Can I ask you a question?" Steve wondered.
"Just one?" The doctor chuckled softly, but gestured him on. Steve paused.
"Why me?"
"I suppose that's the only question that matters," the doctor acknowledged, pausing before starting to talk about the bottle he'd brought with him. And about the Nazis. About his country and Hitler and Johann Schmidt. Steve sat in silence, hands clasped in his lap, listening patiently. But when the doctor got around to talking about the serum, he became alert.
"The serum amplifies everything that is inside," said Dr. Erskine, "so good becomes great; bad becomes worse. " He paused, never taking his eyes off Steve. "This is why you were chosen. Because the strong man who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows... compassion.
Steve smiled gently. "Thanks."
They poured from the bottle and the doctor continued, "Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”
"Well, here's to good people," Steve toasted, but then lost his drink.
"No, what am I doing, you've got the procedure tomorrow," the doctor mouthed, shaking his head. "You can't drink."
Steve sighed. He could use a drink. He watched the doctor downed the alcohol and got the impression that there was still something in the air. There was something else Dr. Erskine hadn't told him.
And he was right.
With a sigh, Dr Erskine set both glasses down and stared into the man's eyes. "There's one more thing."
He grabbed Steve's hands and turned them palms up. The yellow light of the bulb fell on his bare wrists. A pitiful sight, Steve thought.
"I noticed it when we first met. You're in your twenties, Steve, and I'm sure you know yourself that at that age it's highly unlikely that your soulmate will show up."
Steve just nodded. He knew that very well.
"Or maybe they will appear. The problem is, you won't know," the doctor sighed, letting his hands drop. "The serum will completely change you. You'll be stronger, faster. It will change you, physically. And while it doesn't have the power to break the bond between souls, it will prevent the name from being visible."
Steve remained staring at him. "So... if my soulmate is out there after all..."
"You won't know that," Dr. Erskine nodded, smiling apologetically.
---
Steve didn't know how old he was when he first met Tony Stark. He was twenty-seven when he froze, and he looked the same now as he did that day. But Nick Fury said he'd been in the ice for sixty-six years. Which would make him ninety-three years old.
That's crazy.
Yes, Steve was ninety-three when he first met Tony Stark. He wasn't impressed. Tony had the look of a man Steve always hated. The look of a bully and a narcissist who loved to elevate himself above others and prove his superiority. Steve didn't like him. He was nothing like Howard, though there was a resemblance in appearance.
But he couldn't deny that he was drawn to him.
---
Steve had never felt this alone. When his mother died, he didn't think he could handle it. But he still had Bucky and other people he knew. He made it.
When he lost Bucky, he felt really alone. But he still knew Peggy. He knew the people in the commando. He had someone to turn to if he really needed it.
But now he was really alone. He had no one, all the people he'd ever known were dead or so old and senile that they didn't remember him. For the first time in his life, Steve knew he was truly alone.
SHIELD had helped him. They got him an apartment and offered him a job. Something to keep him going and keep him from falling into the depths of depression. But it wasn't enough. Steve tried, really tried, to acclimate and learn how to live in this strange time, but it was difficult.
It was at times like this that Tony came in. Steve didn't know how he did it, but Tony always just knew when to show up. Unannounced, he'd just knock on Steve's door and they'd do something together.
Steve eventually got used to him and realized that he wasn't at all what he had first thought of him. They understood each other. There was a strange chemistry between them that he'd never experienced with anyone before, but it was comfortable. They could tease each other and never really fight. They could talk about all sorts of topics and never get bored. They could be silent and still feel comfortable. And when Tony got tired of the silence, he would tell him about his inventions. Steve didn't understand half of it, but he still listened intently and curiously. Tony had a way of putting it in a style that intrigued him.
He was an intelligent man. Too intelligent, Steve thought more than once. He watched those dark brown eyes, wise and kind and mischievous, and wondered how many difficult events Tony had been through.
He wanted to know more about him.
---
Steve was still ninety-three when Tony took him to see Peggy.
"I think you should see someone," he told him before opening the door and letting him in.
Peggy grew old. She lay on the bed, looking at him, and for a long time she didn't seem to recognize him. Steve had tears in his eyes. She recognized him, happily reached out her hand to him, and he sat down beside her. They talked about everything her aging mind could think of. Steve held her hand, rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, and smiled.
"Did you find him?" He asked, stroking the empty spot on the inside of her wrist. "Did you find your prince charming?"
"Found him," she whispered, smiling. "And we lived happily ever after."
Steve smiled, happy for her. But he couldn't deny that for a moment his heart clenched with envy and pain. Peggy saw it, squeezed his palm.
"Don't give up hope," she scolded him gently. "You've got so many years ahead. I'm sure they'll turn up."
---
Steve was ninety-three when he kissed Tony for the first time. Their encounters had long since ceased to be friendly and instead had seamlessly morphed into dates. So seamlessly that it didn't seem sudden to either of them. Beer sessions became dinners, watching movies on TV became nights at the movies or the theater. Friendly pats on the back became hugs around the waist and shoulders.
Steve marveled only at how natural it seemed to him. It was as if he and Tony simply belonged together.
That evening they stood on the beach. Tony took him to his house in Malibu, they had dinner, Tony played the piano for a while. When it got dark, they walked down to the beach, they were fighting and trying to throw each other into the sand. Steve laughed, finally relented and let Tony get him on the ground. But he took him down with him.
Tony lay on top of him, laughing, his face decorated with wrinkles. Steve fell silent first and just watched him, dropping his gaze to his lips.
They moved at the same time and met in the middle. Tony's lips were soft and smooth and tasted of whiskey. Steve grabbed the back of his head, tilted his head and kissed him deeply. He didn't want the moment to end, he wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.
Tony pulled away first. Just enough to see his eyes. They exchanged a single look and kissed again.
---
Steve was ninety-four when he found out he had his soul mate after all.
He and Tony lay on the sofa, soft music playing from the speakers, and darkness descended outside the windows of Stark Tower, broken only by the lights of the skyscrapers. Steve dozed, and Tony ran his fingers gently over his arm. They were silent, just enjoying each other's company.
"Have you ever met them?" Tony asked. Steve opened his eyes and looked at him. Tony held his hand and rubbed the soft skin on the inside of his wrist with his thumb.
"Who?"
"You don't have a name," Tony continued, still quiet. "Not such a surprise, if they'd survived, they'd probably be like Peggy by now. Maybe a few years older, maybe younger. Did you meet them before they died?"
It occurred to Steve that they'd never actually talked about this. Tony hadn't commented on his empty wrists to this day, and Steve, for a change, didn't care why Tony wore a watch 24/7. And why would he? Steve never knew the name of his soulmate and thus had no need to dwell on it like other people did. He didn't care.
He found Tony without the intervention of fate.
He shook his head at that and pressed a kiss to Tony’s hair.
"I never had a name," he admitted, feeling for the first time in his life not so broken and incomplete. "And Dr. Erskine said that even if someone did eventually show up, I wouldn't know about it."
Tony froze. He stared silently ahead, let go of his hand, and sprang to his feet. Steve straightened up.
"What?"
"You wouldn't know about it?"
"Yeah," he said. "It has something to do with the serum. Even if I had a name it wouldn't show up on my skin."
"So let's say you met someone with your name... you wouldn't have theirs, or at least it wouldn't be visible?"
Steve nodded and narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
Tony laughed. It was a strained and disbelieving laugh, he shook his head in disbelief and quickly unstrapped his watch.
"I thought I was cursed," he whispered, sitting down next to Steve again. They both remained staring at the name on Tony’s wrist. Steve didn't say anything for a long time, just tried to understand what he was looking at. He ran his fingertips over the silvery lines on Tony's skin and read them in a whisper.
"Why didn't you say anything?" He heard himself say. Tony smiled apologetically.
"I was expecting you to figure out who I was when I introduced myself. But you just asked if I had anything to do with Howard. I thought- I thought your soulmate was someone else."
Steve was silent. He looked at his own wrist and of course it was still blank. But it was all finally making sense to him. Before becoming a super soldier, he didn!t have a name because Tony hadn't been born yet. He couldn't have his name written in his skin because Tony didn't exist at that time.
He laughed, relieved and happy.
"I found you," he said, pulling Tony into a hug. They rested their foreheads against each other, both grinning widely, and life finally seemed to make sense.