Steve was aggravated, and rightfully so, nobody was listening to him. They couldn't sign the accords. But every time he opened his mouth he was brushed aside by Tony's reluctance to compromise. Bucky was relying on him, even if Bucky didn't know it, even if Bucky didn't know he was Bucky. He'd recognized Steve, and Steve was sure of it. To make matters worse, he'd just received news that Peggy was gone too. She died peacefully but that didn't make it hurt any less. He thought about how he'd have to go to the funeral, alone. He'd have to sit and listen to people talk about the woman they knew, and it would remind him that he barely knew her. Steve wish he knew her, he thought he did, but could anyone know what went through her head? She was stoic, and proud, she knew not to display her emotions as a woman with power in the forties. To be out of the norm in the way Peggy Carter did took a great deal of bravery that Steve would never understand.
He pulled out the duffel from under his bed and opened the closet digging to the back for the suit he never used. He glared at it slightly knowing that Tony got it for him for any fancy occasion. He'd have to wear a tribute to Tony at Peggy's funeral and it made him feel filthy for some reason. He paused and wondered what Peggy would've thought of Tony, and his arrogance. She'd ranted about him before, at her care home, but he wondered what his Peggy would've thought. She despised ignorance and arrogance alike. Tony happened to stand for both. As he dug through for the suit bag he noticed a pile of fan mail. He took a breath. It tended to calm him down. Receiving drawings from kids, and words of encouragement. It reminded him that he was doing what he did best, which was doing the right thing. A blue envelope with neat cursive compelled him. Steven Grant Rogers, Wherever He Lives, I don't know a postal code It made him smile slightly. He noticed a few other similar looking envelopes and wondered if they were from the same sender, but he was only letting himself read one letter, he only had time for that, he wasn't meant to feel happy, he was mourning, he just needed to feel a little less crap.
He carefully opened the envelope. There was something very familiar about the way the person wrote their o's. with perfect shapes and a careful loop. He couldn't quite place the scent over, it smelt a bit like the cologne somebody used to wear. He couldn't quite place it.
October 7th 1977
Dear Captain Steve Rogers,
My names Anthony Stark, you’re captain America.
Steve groaned internally. If it weren't for the slightly aged paper he would've been certain it were some sort of sick prank. Steve bit the inside of his cheek tempted to put it down, but his eyes were betraying him as he read the next line.
You’ll never see this, but we’re doing a project in school, writing a letter to our idols.
It struck him as odd. Idols, Tony had never said anything about knowing much about Captain America as a kid. In fact, Steve was certain that Tony had just despised him since birth. Or something of that sort. The man was arrogant, and selfish, everything that Steve had always stood against.
About why you inspire us and stuff. So, I guess I’ll just write this and send it, wait for the letter to bounce back. I’m seven years old and I’m part of Mrs. Greene’s fifth grade class. We were talking about what it means to be inspiring. I think it means when someone kind of like light’s a fire I guess? Dad says I use too many metaphors. Jokes on him, it’s a simile. Obviously I’m not going to say that, I might be stupid but I’m not that stupid. And the fire is meant to remind you to do better, or at least just do your best. Anyways, I think it’s admirable, the way you put everything on the line to do what you knew was right. My Aunt tells me lot’s of stories about you.
Howard must have had a sister. Did Steve really know any of his friends? It couldn't have been one of Maria's siblings, they all lived in Italy as far as Steve had heard. Tony didn't even speak Italian.
She say’s she knew you with some sort of pride, but I’m certain you would say that you knew Peggy Carter with the same amount of fierce fondness.
This was a sick prank. And Steve wanted to go and confront Tony about it. But there was something about the soft curls of every letter, and the fading ink, something about the way he'd written 'Aunt' and the way he'd used such vulnerable phrasing. The Tony he knew never would have written something like that.
Dad also says my writing is too flouncy. Which is true. Can’t really fight that one. I'm off topic sorry. I particularly like hearing that even when you knew you’d lose a fight you didn’t cower away, or back down. Aunt Peggy get’s mad at me when I try to do the same though. She say’s that it’s different, I don’t see how. I can’t empathize with what growing up with bone-joint deformity or whatever it was, but I am far smaller than all of my classmates so I can sympathize. They're just so much older it's hard sometimes. It’s whatever though. I don’t really care. Anyways, I’m not even doing the project this is so off topic. Qualities of yours that I look up to are your heroism, determination, and -I’m sure theres a word for it that I’m too thick to know- the way that you always put everyone else in front of yourself.
Steve could feel his eyes narrow. If only he'd known. Was this really Tony writing? It took him off guard. Heroism, Determination, the way you put everyone else in front of yourself.
You seem easy to trust I guess. Even in pictures you look like a good guy. You know in films and stuff how they always play the good music with the good guys? That's kind of what happens to peoples voices when they talk about you. Your a hero, and people sound so proud to talk about you. I hope that someday I can do something brave enough, I don't even need to hear it I just hope someone talks about me with that voice. Especially dad. He always sounds ready to trade the world for you, and I hope I can earn that kind of love and respect someday.
Earn. Earn that kind of love. One shouldn't earn love from a parent, one is entitled to be loved. Steve furrowed his brow it didn't sound like Howard. He was sure Howard spoke to his son with the tone the boy described. Tony was fairly self centred, it was fully plausible that he'd never noticed. Which Steve acknowledged as a sick thought, but Howard and Peggy were two people who were somehow still so present in his life. He was able to visit Peggy still, she was different now, sometimes she struggled to recognize him. It broke his heart. Well, now he couldn't visit Peggy, she was gone. Howard not through his son which Steve had selfishly been hoping for at first, through his technology, through his memorials, his articles, photos and videos. The Howard he'd known had managed to give Steve everything, and they were barely 'friends from work'. Sure he could be sleazy with girls, but he was still young at the time. He was so willing to share his successes with Steve.
With Great Admiration,
Tony Stark
Steve took a breath, he was going to put the letter in the recycle bin and move on. Finish packing, fly to england. He really was. He had the intentions to. Yet as he went back towards his closet the corner of another blue letter was begging to be opened. So he sat his back pressed up against the wood board of the closet clothes dangling in his face, his hands running across a letter. He paused, did he want to open it? Was it an invasion of privacy? It was addressed to him. He was coerced once again by the neat cursive letters, far too intricate for a seven year old. It felt weird reading something a young Tony had written. It felt out of place to read about Tony's admiration for him. Did the Tony Stark he know still carry some of that admiration? And the way Tony wrote about Peggy made Steve proud. She'd loved someone as difficult as Tony, but, he couldn't really say that could he? If there hadn't been a last name Steve would've been pretty sure it had to be a different Tony. And so maybe in a sense it was. Perhaps Tony had grown into what he became. Or maybe he hadn't really changed that much.
November 12th 1977
Dear Captain Steve Rogers,
It’s Tony Stark again. Once again, I’m forewarning this letter with the fact that I know you’ll never read them. The other one is in a shoebox under my bed. Which is unnecessary information. I really need to stop just writing my train of thought because if you ever were to read them (which is probably impossible at this point because even if Dad does manage to find you, I can assure you that you will not be seeing these) I think I’d vanish off the face of the planet in embarrassment.
Steve couldn't help but smile. Tony couldn't have been more than eight and he wrote with such beautiful words, with spunk in every phrase. Steve furrowed his brow trying to think about if he'd ever seen Tony write. He couldn't say he had. Tony had explicitly told him that history and english were his worst subjects. Steve furrowed his brow, based on what he knew of Tony a 'worst subject' would've definitely still been an A, probably an A+, had Tony really felt disappointed in his writing skills to the point of making it the lowest priority, or did he still write at times, hidden by walls and a locked door? Steve wanted answers and he needed to find them.
Aunt Peggy was just visiting. She couldn’t stay long. Peggy and my dad are going to look for you again. They’re certain they’ll find you this time.
Steve's heart cried in pain, they had looked for him. More than once. Again rang through his ears bouncing off his skull and surfacing over and over again in his consciousness. He ran his hand over the word's Aunt Peggy. They were written with love, Steve could tell. 'She couldn't stay long' had a regretful slump in the lettering. The way he wrote her name over and over as if he were trying to emphasize her amongst the bleak references to his Father who received and occasional lower case dad, or a spiteful him. Steve felt himself smiling again, how could he have thought he were the only one who loved Peggy. It was so evident in the young boys writing for god sake. He wondered if Tony ever visited her, why he hadn't mentioned her, if the little boy on the mantle place in Peggy's room was him. He thought about the picture it made sense. They were at an airport. Peggy had an arm wrapped around the boys shoulder his big brown eyes full of worship and love.
I’m not so sure they'll find you.
Ever the cynic.
Back to fun stuff because sir's work is kind of boring.
When Aunt Peg was here she told me that you couldn’t dance. She'd laughed, and I could tell that they aren't going to find you. She always looks a little bit sad when she talks about you. Regretful. I try to understand that but it doesn't make sense to me. Theres nothing either of you could've done. I doubt your capable of doing the wrong thing, same with her. Aunt Peggy taught me how to dance when I was six. I stood on her feet. I didn't step on her feet, she made me stand on her feet and we walked around the room. She made me hold her shoulder's though 'cause apparently I was too small to lead. When I was six I was allowed to do stuff like that. It’s babyish though, even for a six year old.
And so Steve found himself confused. She always looks a bit sad when she talks about you. How often did Tony and Peggy talk about him? He bit the inside of his cheek, had Tony decided to hate him when they met? Steve had met a lot of kids with hero worship before, and it seemed pretty evident that Tony Stark was obsessed.
Anyway, she talks about you a lot, I ask her about you a lot though so I guess it goes both way. She’s always happy to tell me though. She told me that you carried around a piece of a broken telegraph just to prove to her that you hadn’t purposefully left SHIELD in the dark. I’m technically not supposed to know about SHIELD but once again, nobodies ever going to see these, and for that reason, I know for a fact, that is totally okay for me to write whatever I want.
Steve's lips curled up, it was classic of Tony, but it didn't seem to be malicious, or even selfish, it was almost in some ways insecure.
Yesterday I was being pushed around, so I just kind of stood there smiling like a jackass (that’s what dad calls the smile anyways) it didn’t really work, but having a black eye is kind of cool. It hurts a bit. How did you even manage? I was trying to be like you. But Peggy told me that it'll just get me killed. I don't want to disappoint Peggy too.
Until next time,
Maybe,
Tony
Steve read the ending. Until next time, Maybe. Immediately pulling the box of letters towards him digging through. He managed to find six more. He placed the scent of the paper as Howard's cologne. He laughed wondering if their entire house smelt of it. He'd ask Tony... if he were speaking to the man.
May 29th 1978
Dear Captain Steve Rogers,
Hello, it’s Tony Stark. It’s kind of been a long time. I’m turning eight today! Jarvis said he’ll take me to get ice-cream after school. Mom and Dad are away so I’m staying with Ana and him. Usually I’d be in Italy with them, but school’s too important now. It’s dumb though ‘cause dad doesn’t even speak Italian. I don’t even think he likes moms family that much. If grade fives important why isn’t Dad’s work? Whatever. Anyways, they’re supposed to call me at 9:00pm. Which is past my bedtime. But Mom said it’s an exception because she’s missing my birthday.
Steve's stomach flipped in heartbreak for the child. He wondered why the kid was so apathetic about it. Or perhaps he wanted to be strong, brave like Captain America his head supplied. Not only was he seven and eight in fifth grade, which couldn't have been easy, his parents were seemingly often times absent. Steve paused to think. He thought about the way Tony's face hardened at the mention of Howard, and the way he was terrible at communicating any sort of emotion. He thought about the way he kept everyone at arms length because maybe he didn't want to disappoint them too.
The reason I’m writing this is because yesterday I went to the school library during recess, and there was a comic book section. There are tons of comic books around you, which is a little bit strange because you were a real life person, but at the same time you were a superhero anyways. I used to want to be a superhero too, but I’m eight now, and so I have to have more concrete goals. Dad says that building weapons is the same as building anything else, but I don’t like it as much. Sure explosions look cool for the most part, but it’s not worth it. You put everything you’ve got into a stupid bomb and it’s all gone in the blink of an eye with everything around it. I was in Dad’s lab the other day and I went to grab him a Hex Screwdriver because he was using a Torx and it clearly wasn’t working, but he freaked out at me, I’m not allowed in the lab anymore for now.
Had Howard instilled the locking yourself in the lab into Tony, perhaps even the whole 'don't hand me stuff' thing. He was eight years old and he was already being briefed on building weapons of war. Which was a little bit sickening.
I’m also not allowed in the kitchen right now, or obviously my parents room, so essentially I’m resigned to my room. Which is what I usually do when people are mad at me anyways. It’s easier to just disappear for a while than go and listen to people tell you everything you’ve done wrong lately. I don’t know why adults always need to repeat the things you’ve done wrong thirty million times. I swear I’ve heard about the broken window six times in the last week. I know that two out of three things I do are mistakes, I don't get why they always have to tell me.
Bye,
Tony
Steve felt a lump growing in the back of his throat. He couldn't place the emotion but it felt like guilt. He remembered the helicarrier. He remembered meeting him for the first time, hoping it would be Howard, he remembered when Tony failed him for the first time comparing him to Howard. Tony wasn't perfect, but every word in these letters made him a little more human, a little more cracked, broken, shattered.
June 20th 1981
Dear Captain America,
Happy Crash Day! I’m not quite sure how old you’d be or how many years it’s been, but it’s been a while and you’d probably be pretty old. Is there anything you regret not doing? Probably a lot of things. You died pretty young.
Steve couldn't help but laugh. Happy Crash Day. What the hell.
Anyhow, I got suspended. For a week. And theres one week left of school. So theres that. I think Dad might just kill me when he gets home. I kind of hope he’ll at least listen to me. Ty ganged up on me with his stupid friends. They’re mindless, but really fucking strong. Ty’s just mad that I didn’t let him cheat off my paper. Maybe I should have. Long story short I punched the fucker in his pretty face.
'I punched the fucker' said an eleven year old Tony Stark. 'I didn't let him cheat off my paper' so Tony did have a moral compass. Why did he work so hard to cover it up?
None of them fought back, which I expected. They weren’t seriously going to touch me, simply there to scare me. I don’t know what to scare me into doing, I didn’t wait long enough. Him and Justin are friends now which is weird, neither of them like me much anymore. Apparently I’m a know it all. They’re not wrong. I’m smarter than both of them. I don’t get why it’s ‘narcissistic’ or ‘big headed’ to say. Being stupid shouldn’t be an insult. Some people just have higher intelligence then others and theres nothing wrong with that. Conventional intelligence isn’t worth much anyways.
Steve had to give it to him, even the articulate way he wrote a casual letter suggested intellectuality.
I think I’d rather be with kids my age even if they can barely do long division and probably know nothing about electromagnetic fields, or neutralizing chemicals. Anyways I’m about ten minutes away from a big lecture, and depending on how much scotch we have laying around, a yelling match, and depending on how unsuccessful his day at work was a couple of flying chairs or plates. I don’t see how I did anything wrong. I had every right to punch the git square in the nose. I hope it’s broken. It would satisfy me to see him with a broken nose. I really am selfish. I probably hurt Ty quite a bit. But he was a jerk, he grabbed my wrist really tight and said shit about me being weak. Which is backwards because I’m like four years younger than him so obviously I am. Some people are just stupid. He also called me emotionally fragile. Which sirs said too. So why shouldn't I have punched him. It's not like anyone else was going to go get justice or whatever. People in my grade don't do anything because you stand up for the eleven year old once and now your just as much of a loser. See this is what I mean I’m so alienated by my peers, because I’m so obviously out of place. It’s embarrassing. I still had a bedtime in like grade eight. Which is just disturbing. I’m staying at Peggy’s during all of July. I’m really excited. Except my cousin? I don’t technically know, we’re not technically related but we both call her Aunt Peggy so, sure, my cousin Sharon is going to be there too, except she’s five. And she’s super smart and stuff, but seeing as I’m going into grade ten and haven’t played any sort of kiddish game since like age five I have no idea if we’ll get along. At all. So, Dad wasn’t even that mad. Just disappointed. He shook his head and degraded me a little bit for being impulsive and emotional. Which were both valid points, but if I may say hypocritical. I’m going to Peggy’s early! I logically know it’s because dad doesn’t want to deal with my antics right now (because I swear he was a second away from hitting me in front of Ana), but at the same time I’d rather be with Peggy anyways.
Talk soon maybe,
(I’m kind of forgetful I mean to write more often though, I really do, pinkie swear)
Tony Stark
Steve's jaw was slack. He went back a couple of letters, reading between the lines, and every word implied that Howard Stark did in fact hit his child. Steve felt ignorant to assume that Tony always had friends. He was a self-proclaimed playboy, he wasn't a bad looking guy, and he'd seen some photos from MIT (never before that oddly enough) and he was a cute kid. But Steve hadn't considered how hard it would be to have friends as a fourteen year old in senior year. Sharon Carter. Tony knew her when they were kids. The curious part of him wanted to ask about him at Peggys funeral, the logical part of him knew better than that. Ty, as in Tiberius Stone? He'd heard about him before, in passing. Tony hadn't sounded bitter. But he never did. Hell he'd sat and listened to Steve talk about how incredible Howard Stark was and all he'd said was 'Yeah, he really cared about you'. It had been earnest, and Steve had the audacity to question why Tony refused to say anymore. It all made him nauseous.
He lunged for the letter dated next.
May 29th 1986
Dear Captain Steve Rogers,
It’s Tony again. It’s also my birthday again. Ironically enough, my parents are home for once. Peggy’s here too with Sousa. Did you know Sousa? It’s terrifying how everything is so fleeting, one moment he’s the guy from work and the next moment she’s having his kids. Anyways, why am I not with them right now? Well, first of all I’d probably rather spend my Birthday in a fucking junk yard then in a room with Howard.
That was new. Howard. The distain in the words seeped through the page and burned into his hand. He imagined the ink poisoning his perception of the man. dad, sir, Howard. It hurt, but he must've hurt Tony more. Tony was a good liar, good at acting one way feeling another. When he hadn't come to comfort Steve when he'd gotten the text, maybe it was because he too was in a vulnerable position. Shit.
But also I’m not allowed to talk to company after the ‘stunt I pulled at easter’. No matter how many times I swear that it was an honest mistake It doesn’t get through that assholes brain. On another note. I’ve purged my room of all things captain America, and may or may not have knocked over a few of the precious precious photo frames in my dad’s office. How about some photos of mom? Of fucking course not. It always has to be Steve Rogers. The golden standard. For everything. Sometimes I don’t know wether I hate you or him more.
Okay, well that was new too. A lot to unpack. Why would Tony address a letter to him that was talking about hating him?
They weren't really letters, they were diary entries and this was fully an invasion of privacy. but the thickness of the multiple page letter drew him in like a siren, he knew he was going down a path of inevitable death already, but he just couldn't help himself.
All I know is for the most part he’s more of a problem for me right now. Mostly because your six feet under, probably. Correction, hopefully. Dad slapped me when I said that to him. He was lecturing me about telling the truth and not being a lying little shit. And he ended the conversation with having a breakthrough on your whereabouts, and how he was happy to have someone back in his life who wouldn’t make him feel sick to look at,
Steve felt ashamed. He'd trusted Howard Stark.
and so I told him that I hoped he found you, and he slapped me. In his defence I did specifically say ‘I hope you find him this time, I think that your striped suit will match his corpse best!’. And I think I may have also said ‘maybe you’ll be able to celebrate your fifteen year anniversary with mom! If your not too busy trying to learn necromancy’. Which pushed him over the edge. I don’t particularly blame him for that. He’s right for the most part. Did he drink a lot when you knew him? Because he has since I knew him. He told me it’s because of me. Which I didn’t believe until I looked through old videos of him and Aunt Peggy he didn’t have that slur to his voice. I guess I just wonder if it really is all my fault. Which was fucking dumb of me to even wonder because of course it is. Everything I touch falls to a bunch of pieces. My roommate here is named James Rhodes. I’m not at school right now because it’s a reading break, and I was under the impression that I’d be able to spend it with my Aunt, but hey, I should’ve known that it would be a trap right. Back to what I was trying to get to, which is an itemized list of reasons I hate you. Except it’s not itemized and it’s not a list.
Steve could tell he cared about his writing less, but he could also tell he was feeling a lot more emotions. Put the letters down this is too personal. A voice hissed in his head, but he couldn't let go. He was convincing himself it was because he could learn more about Peggy from them, but he knew that was a lie.
It’s because you’re perfect? I suppose, I don’t know. I doubt you’ve ever made a bad decision, or a wrong move. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that you’ve never jumped to negative judgement, and you probably are one of those naive assholes that believes everyone can change.
Steve felt a lump in his throat, because, he'd betrayed everything Tony had been told about him. He'd betrayed himself when he'd realized Tony wasn't Howard, he hadn't even considered any sort of value the man had.
Well yeah sure I believe that too, just people can’t change back. Your not born with the intentions to become the kind of dad who hits a six year old, but hey, it happens to the best of us.
silence. his heart stopped beating. the world was small.
God I’m being so whiny in this letter. It’s literally fine. I live in a huge house with two living parents, and I have money, and friends, and it’s not the middle of a war, fuck you must think I’m a total brat- and why the fuck should I even care. See. This. This right here is my problem. I can’t seem to get it out of my head. Look, I know that there is no way I could ever, ever even get close to being as good as you, but I’m still constantly tempted to try, and for what? To prove Howard wrong? I fucking wish, but no it’s because still despite all the spilt scotch, and all the perfectly timed swings, through every time I was called a disappointment, or a disgrace I still just want him to look me in the eyes and tell me he’s proud, that I’m good enough, or something, or whatever, I guess. That was stupid, I haven’t slept in around thirty hours so obviously I’m not thinking straight.
Deflection. That was familiar. No wonder he was so good at it. How could he be that angry and just brush it off with an I'm sorry I need sleep. How could he simply look at his emotions and make them trivial.
Anyway. Moving on. Rhodeys mom hugged me when I went over to his house for thanksgiving. It was weird. I think I almost cried. She was just, it just, warm. God damn it I can’t even write properly. Anyways I can’t even touch my own mom. I don’t know who started the whole avoidance game but now it doesn’t surprise me. I hug Peggy when I see her, not in front of Dad, I think he'd disown me at the sign of any physical contact that's not, carrying on his legacy as you know, a skirt chaser or whatever.
Steve bit the inside of his cheek rage settling in his stomach. At Howard, at himself.
I can hear Peggy’s laughter from downstairs. I wish she could just see me. Just look at me. She’d know. I just know she’d know. I know she’ll eventually force herself in here. Eventually, but I’m sure good ol' Howard Stark will get in here first and remind me what I may and may not say. How I may and am forbidden from speaking. Peggy doesn’t fucking care, when will he get that. She’s so much more of a man than he ever will be. I respect you for daring to love someone like Peggy. She’s impossible to chain down, and she always described you as wanting something very concrete. Based off what I’ve heard about you I’m certain you guys wouldn’t have lasted long. She thinks so too, she says you probably would've managed to get yourself killed on the wedding day. She loved you though. She says you couldn't ask for help. That you felt like you had to do everything own your own. I get that, but this doesn't mean I don't loathe you. Okay so maybe I don't, but I want to. Because screw you Steve Rogers. I can't really hate anything Peggy loves.(except you dad, go fuck yourself)
Steve swallowed, he knew what he'd been thinking about, maybe he should talk to someone first. Anyone. Natasha, Sam, anyone. Would they understand? Probably not. Would they stop him? Probably not. What was it Tony had been trying to say 'signing won't stop me from breaking rules'. He'd thought he'd been being an ass, maybe he had been right. It just temporarily got people of their backs. It didn't mean they couldn't go on 'vacation'.
And I hate that too, because the one person the only fucking person who I actually believe when she says that... still mentally compares me to you. And I don’t need to ask who wins. God I’m certain dad would rather chase an anonymous tip about your whereabouts than come to my high school graduation. And I know this because that’s exactly what happened. When Peggy said ‘loyal’ I really didn’t think it meant hurting every body around you for one other person.
Okay this was starting to feel real personal. He rechecked the date of the letter briefly furrowing his brow. The teenager wasn't wrong. Loyalty wasn't about serving one person in front of everyone else. It meant being considerate of everyone who he'd made the promise too. His loyalty for Bucky shouldn't have weighed more than his loyalty for the team.
Maybe if Dad listened to what Mom had to say he’d be closer to finding you. She was the one who mentioned looking in the ice years before he even realized that being in the ice after all the years was way more likely than being on the ice. I snorted when I figured out he looked on the ice for years. He didn’t even have to move I tensed all the same. I’m a coward. He knows it too. And I think he finds it satisfying, because I’m certain he knows I know, and we both know that we both know that you pitied the cowardly. More like despised, but pitied feels more pathetic. I hate him. But I think it’s less that and I hate that I can’t stop begging for his approval. I do all these performative things, like drinking, and fonduing, neither of which I particularly enjoy (okay the latter is good for the most part) but that’s all it is. Performative. It’s barely defiance when he does the exact same thing. Anyways. Fuck Howard Stark. And most importantly, fuck you Steve Rogers.
I feel like I can’t say that to a dead veteran,
Oh well,
Tony
Steve silently grabbed the next letter, his brain going blank simply reading.
December 17th 1987 (1991 except I’m basing dates of Tonys birthday which didn't line up with the other dates)
fuck.
Dear Steve Rogers,
Well. There. It’s, they’re gone. I’m lost. My last words to my mom were ’well sorry mom it’s not my fault you never stand up for anyone’. And my last words to Howard, dad were a lot less pretty. Am I supposed to miss him? Am I supposed to cry for him? Am I supposed to go to the funeral, and listen to Obie, and Peggy, and everyone I care about lie over and over again. His grave stone says loving father and it makes me feel sick. Because how terrible does it make me, to see that and thinkto who? Dad never wanted kids. Did you know that? Told me himself on my ninth birthday. I'd rather know. I hate secrets. Which is kind of why I hate that the public will go on thinking he was a saint. I don't want to tell them the truth though. I could barely tell Rhodey, and I couldn't tell Peggy until I was ten, we both knew she knew, but saying it was important. She's here right now. She's sleeping on the couch and I'm being a fucking baby because I wish she were closer. If I could just see her, or hear her breathing I would know she wasn't about to disappear. Anyways, on my ninth birthday I didn’t know what to say so I apologized. It was the first birthday party I remember him showing up to, and the last. I’ve thrown up six times in the past hour, I haven’t eaten anything. Rhodey’s probably going to be here the moment he wakes up. I left him a message. It’s four in the morning so um, ignore the date at the top, it’s the 18th. I used to want to be like you. Which I know you know. I saw all of his old photos, and I’d hear about your bravery. The way you died for everyone else. How much did it change? 75 million. 75 million people died in world war 2. Even though you did too. And people still are dying. What does anything we do change. Is it really worth it standing there getting punched to prove a point. Maybe I shouldn’t have. If I’d just been better.If I had just given up maybe it would've stopped, maybe I would've been enough, maybe someone anybody would be proud. They’re gone. No more Italian, no more mom. I’ll miss her. For the most part. I loved her. Did my dad think I loved him? Did I? Did she know I loved her? Do you think she knew? I need to know that she knew. If she didn't know I might just, just fuck. I feel so so sick.
Steve's heart was racing.
December 25th 1987
Dear Steve Rogers,
Merry Christmas.
I woke up with a nose bleed. The taste of iron filled my mouth. Made of iron. It made it hard to breathe. It's hard to breathe a lot now. And right then I knew it. I’m never getting away from Howard Stark, because I have his DNA, and no matter what I do, a portion of the blood that runs through my veins is the same blood that ran through his. So no matter what I do, no matter if I try to rip my skin off, or pretend he never existed, no matter how many times I scald my skin in burning hot showers, I can’t get rid of it. Iron is in my blood, and that’s what I was meant to be made of. The taste is taunting me, it knows.
December 17th 1988
Dear Steve Rogers,
I’m sorry.
I was going to leave it like that, but Aunt Peggy and I were talking today. She let me cry. And we talked about you. He still cared about you more, but I guess that's not your fault. I guess. But I feel guilty now, because Peggy's always right.
Tony Stark.
Steve scrambled through the bin looking for another, when he couldn't find any he read them backwards, and then forwards again. He watched over and over again as Tony lost his innocence and forgave Steve, and then he watched him blame himself and regain his innocence before reading them forwards again. Over and over again, his hands shaking, reading every line over and over again. Reading into every pen stroke, every spelling mistake, grammatical error. He was begging the page for answers they didn't have. He read them over and over and over again, with sticky note, annotating a seven year olds letter. It was desperate, and he was exhausted. He couldn't sleep he had to read again. He absently felt dried tear tracks covering his cheeks, he didn't know wether it was for Peggy, Tony, Howard, or himself.
A subtle knock didn't reach his ears.
"Cap?" Tony said tentatively from the other side of the door. He cursed himself for not using his name. "Steve?" He asked a little louder.
"Look, I know your mad at me, but you missed your flight, I uh, rebooked it anyways, you haven't slept in twenty two hours and everyones a bit concerned"
The door opened.
Steve had been dully listening to Tony's words trying to play Tony's voice in his letters.
"You should probably try to-" Tony paused furrowing his brow at the letters on the floor. "Fan mail?" He smiled slightly sitting down with his back against the door. "Look Steve I know your mad at me right now, and rightfully so, but if you want to talk about her, I uh" Tony paused inhaling. He was so put together it felt rehearsed, then again hadn't Tony had tons of practice hiding his feelings? "I know you don't know but I-"
"Knew her too" Steve said glancing up from the letters.
Tony furrowed his brow "You see my name on the visiting sheet?" He asked "I feel like that doesn't make sense- how-"
That took Steve by surprise, he visited her. They could've gone together. "Why didn't you tell me, we could've gone together" Steve said staring at the wall.
"She knows everything about me Steve. I can tell you don't trust me, so getting all personal with childhood stories and what not didn't seem fair, you had less time with her I didn't want to impose-"
"Too late" Steve replied looking down at the letters.
Tony's eyes widened with horror "I'll just go, I'm so sorry Steve, I know you won't-"
"Not imposing Tony" Steve said with a soft smile that he was trying not to fill with pity. "Getting all personal with the childhood stories." he tossed one of the envelopes to the brunet.
Tony's eyes widened in horror "oh god- please tell me you only read this one-" he said quickly sliding back down into a sitting position running his hand over the smooth blue paper.
Steve held up the other letters apologetically "sorry"
Tony shook his head "They're addressed to you" he replied with a soft smile. "I don't know who sent them, but thats um, embarrassing. Look Steve you need to understand that I was a really dramatic kid and-"
"Don't" Steve replied kicking his feet in front of him childishly over the scattered papers stickynotes and the unopened letters from kids. "Why didn't you say anything"
"I um, I don't know what your talking about. I should just-" Tony stood up turning towards the door. Steve grabbed his wrist.
"Can we please, just, talk, for once?" Steve asked tugging his arm asking him to sit down.
Tony nodded. "yeah sorry"
"So why didn't you tell me about Howard?" Steve asked quietly looking at Tony's face for the answers. He needed answers.
"I- he cared about you a lot, I didn't want to ruin the man you knew with what he became" Tony shrugged staring at Steve's wall.
"I was being an ass-"
"You didn't know" Tony shrugged.
"I wish I had" Steve replied.
"So, we don't keep secrets" Tony smiled softly. "Not that I really have anymore" he added glancing down at the letters a blush covering his face in shame.
"That sounds good. Are you coming to the funeral?" Steve asked his stomach twisting.
Tony nodded "If your all right with that-"
Steve looked at him with wild wide eyes "why would I not be-"
"Your not really my biggest fan" Tony teased.
"Well you were hers" Steve smirked nudging him lightly.
Tony groaned resting his face in his hands. "I cant believe you read them" his voice came out muffled. "I'm not going to be able to talk to you anymore you know that right? You've heard too much"
"When you meet Bucky I'm sure it all will be reciprocated" Steve laughed airily his voice hardening when he said what he said.
"You've found a location?" Tony smiled "that's great Steve, it really is-"
"No, no we haven't, I'm just, being hopeful. Um, I do have something, really important to tell you soon, I don't know why I haven't told you sooner, I just- it's kind of bad, it's- well, um before or after the funeral?" Steve said awkwardly, he was running his hand over the edges of a powder blue envelope.
"I think after, but could you tell me what it's about-"
Steve made a bit of a tensed face "Your, um, parents" he said lightly letting the letter fall.
"Well thanks for telling me, surprisingly enough I'm not a huge fan of secrets-"
"Not a surprise anymore" Steve teased picking up a letter. "Would you talk to me again if I were to read these aloud to you?"
"No" Tony replied with a light laugh. He turned to face Steve. They looked at one another. Both had bleary red eyes, both had been crying, they both were smiling despite it.
"So, do you still speak Italian?" Steve said breaking the silence.
"assolutamente no" Tony laughed slightly knowing he'd chosen easily translated words.
Steve rolled his eyes with a bit of a laugh. "and for the record I do know how to dance" Steve replied.
"I doubt it, Peggy couldn't stop laughing when I asked her"
"What a weird question to ask." Steve commented looking at the wall.
Tony flushed again, "You know what Steve, some of us had too much time on their hands and too much talk about captain america"
"A little bit of hero worship never hurt anyone" Steve smirked poking Tony's cheek. He could not tell you what made him do it, but Tony didn't seem to react badly, so he was able to release a breath of anxiety.
"Except the hero. I've heard lot's of things about you"
"Right back at you" Steve picked up a letter "Anyways, they’re supposed to call me at 9:00pm. Which is past my bedtime. But Mom said it’s an exception-"
"No no no no no no no no-" Tony said with a whisper-shriek lunging over to grab the letter from him. "We're not reading my childhood letters ever again. Ever. Not even if you find the ones in-"
Steve grinned "theres more?" He laughed.
"Yeah, these are the ones that I kept at Peggy's house, They had more um personal stuff so I figured they were less likely to be read. The other ones are mostly from fifth and sixth grade kind of boring, and I will be sure that you will never read them"
"That's illegal, you can't open a letter addressed to me-" Steve feign whined.
"Well, deal with it capsicle-"
"It's passed your bedtime, nine pm was hours ago-"
Tony smiled swatting his arm suck "your the one whose been up for twenty two hours"
"JARVIS how long has it been since Tony last slept?"
"Thirty two hours and counting Sir" the AI replied in what Steve could've sworn was a satisfied voice.
"Okay fine, yeah, I can't sleep, sue me" Tony said raising his arms up in surrender.
"Why not?"
"Just because you read those letters doesn't mean I'm ready to be all personal with you-" Tony said slightly snappishly. "Sorry, look, I just, fuck this is dumb but I'm positive I've written this somewhere in the letter, but she was always there for me, I mean I have Rhodey but I'm not calling him at four in the morning you know, but Peggy was like, the only- just, it's hard-"
Steve nodded "and the team was busy comforting me-"
"it's not like that, it's, I like being alone when I'm not doing so hot-"
"Do you?" Steve asked softly. "Because I hate it. I hate feeling abandoned, or lost, everybody I cared about is gone, and so the people that are around, I need them to stay-" he whispered.
"Barnes?"
"You guys too" Steve offered a quiet smile.
Tony nodded "I just, I feel like I deserve to be alone-"
"Because it'll prove to yourself that nobody else cares about you. You can't just isolate yourself because you need to prove to yourself that you deserve it- nobody-"
"Okay what the hell did I write in those letters" Tony laughed in an attempt to deflect the topic.
"Enough" Steve replied offering a sad smile. Tony sighed and nodded wrapping his arms around his knees. Steve stood up and laid down in his bed. "i'm exhausted" he added.
"Okay, good night Steve-"
"Can you stay? Neither of us should be alone right now" Steve commented moving to the very far edge of the bed.
"Sure" Tony replied turning the light off.