Fic Fic Ficity Fic
Title : Four times Howard Stark's technology saved Steve Rogers' life and one time he did it himself (sort of).
Pairing : Gen pretty much. But you can see pairings if you squint.
Rating : R
Notes : Written for the kink meme
Four times Howard Stark’s technology saved Captain Rogers and one time he did it himself.
1)
“And obviously you need a weapon,” Howard’s accent slipped slightly, and Steve smiled slightly. The older man had been born in America, but his father had emigrated from London and every now and again Howard would channel his father’s accent slightly - a fact that no one but Steve had ever commented on, oddly enough. “Are you even listening to me?” Howard tapped him on the shoulder and he snapped out of his thoughts, causing the engineer to laugh. “Agent Carter distracting you?” Howard’s inflection suggested it wasn’t a question. He glanced over at the pretty agent on the other side of the lab, and smirked. “Me too,” he nodded before handing Steve a simple firearm. “It might not look like much but it’s the perfect weapon, well balanced and has a mechanism that will never fail you.”
The gun felt cold in Steve’s large hand and he looked at it for a long moment before he could respond. He had never fired a gun before, and though the weight of the metal was comforting he still had no idea how it would feel to fire it. “You okay pal?” Howard asked, noticing his reaction.
“Uh, yeah fine, it’s just that I’ve never held a gun before.” Steve blushed. It sounded so stupid to admit that.
“Where you’re going you’re definitely going to need one.” Steve knew he was right, of course, but in his grand plan of saving Bucky he had never once thought that he might have to kill someone. Sometimes he was really rather stupid. “Just remember,” there was a pause and Steve expected some great moment of wisdom, instead he got, “point and shoot... or something like that.” He slapped Steve on the back and motioned towards his awaiting plane. “It’s time to get this show on the road.”
When Steve fired the gun less than thirty minutes later, fingers trembling, he remembered it really was as simple as point and shoot.
2)
The flames leapt up across the crowded factory machine room, causing the temperature to rise by more than a few degrees. The sweat began to bead against his forehead and trickle uncomfortably down the nape of his neck and down under the collar of his suit. It was times like this, (and there had been many times like this in recent months), that Steve really questioned whether it was a good idea for him to be so gung ho in his approach to tackling Hydra. Of course, those thoughts had yet to stop him from throwing himself into peril at every conceivable opportunity.
It was probably because he was momentarily distracted by his own mortality that the Hydra agent managed to get the drop on him, but either way the knife slid across his suit and failed to cut his skin. Point to Howard, he noted, as he took the perpetrator down with a swift kick to the jaw.
3)
The first time Steve had seen the shield he had fallen in love. Howard had told him later that it suited him. All the others were designed with the latest technology and retrofitted with guns and buttons, and Steve had chosen the most basic one. Howard said it was a symbol of his roots as a simple kid from Brooklyn and Steve wasn’t entirely sure he should take that as a compliment.
As it turned out, the shield was pretty much perfect. It was lightweight and nearly indestructible, plus it made a pretty good frisbee. And whilst that didn’t necessarily sound like it could be useful in the middle of a war, it turns out that it really could be. The shield had saved his life more times than he could remember, he had used it to break locks, he had used it to knock out Hydra agents, he had used it to protect him and his troops from the blue blasts that disintegrated grown men with a single blast.
But the one person it couldn’t save was Bucky. Sure, it had done his job by saving him from the initial blast, but the force of the hit was too strong for him to hold it steady and he had been thrown back. Less than four seconds after surviving that hit, the shield was crushing the shooter’s larynx and saving Steve’s life.
4)
Storming into Schmidt’s final base had seemed like a good idea when he was in mourning for the loss of his friend, but it had seemed less like a good idea when he had been preparing for it. Nevertheless, he was Captain America, he could show no fear. And that was why he had been so taken aback when Howard had given him one last gift. He had spent the whole of the night before the attack with a look on gritted determination plastered across his face, and yet the billionaire had seen straight through it, and worked tirelessly to give him one last surprise to play on Hydra.
The bike was probably Steve’s favourite bit of kit. It was both practical and full of Howard’s most creative designs. It was a ride that suited Steve, classic and American. It moved faster than anything else on two wheels and it was built to withstand the stunt-style jumps that were often necessary in an attack. The bike seemed to know what he wanted to do before he did it, but that could just have been his imagination.
Either way, as he broke through the outer boarders of the base, flanked by six Hydra riders, he was glad for the vehicle and its many additions. One by one the riders were seen off, until the final hurdle loomed in the distance. The rocket took out the tank with ease, much to Steve’s relief, and the bike climbed the slope elegantly, before slamming into the ground below leaving him thankful for the heavily padded seat - Howard really did think about everything.
In fact, Steve liked that bike so much that it was a shame to send it to its doom to blow up a hole in the Hydra base.
5)
When Steve had first woken, he had known something was wrong. All of the pieces of the room seemed to fit with where he should have been but the air was different to how he remembered. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to find out that he was once again being used as a science experiment, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t pissed him off.
All he could think of when he ran outside was his date with Peggy and all the new stuff he wanted to suggest to Howard. Then Nick Fury had dropped the bomb. 2011 was a lot different to 1944, and it only took on street to tell him that much. He allowed himself to be shepherded off to - yet another - secret government facility, and wallowed in his own self-pity. It wasn’t like he had any reason to fight for his freedom. In fact, he had nothing to fight for whatsoever.
The gentleman who came to see him had an odd familiarity about him, but Steve was fairly confident that he had never met the man before. He walked into the room, with the air of someone who could not give two fucks about what anyone thought about him, tinged with a sense of reverie about the man he had come to meet.
“There you are, as real as could be. I was beginning to wonder whether Fury hadn’t taken one too many punches to the head, but here you are.” The man rambled. “You know, when my father died I spent ages trying to work this out,” he waved a video in his hand, “trying to work out what the letter meant. I watched it every day trying to find out exactly what he was getting at... and guess what? It was you. Uh, who saw that one coming?” The stranger walked across the room, heading straight towards the liquor cabinet that Steve assumed had been put there in an attempt to make him feel like less of a prisoner. “Do you mind?” The man motioned to the decanter of vintage whiskey. Steve shook his head, it wasn’t like the alcohol would have any effect on him anyway, someone might as well enjoy it.
The stranger took a deep mouthful of the honey coloured liquid before crossing the room and inserting the tape in the player. Steve watched as a grainy image appeared on the large screen television. The face on the screen had an odd familiarity about it, and when the voice began to speak the years seemed to melt away to reveal a man who had saved his life with technology on multiple occasions. The voice detailed the unstopping search for his body, and how the country could be great again with his leadership. It told of a man who had tirelessly searched for a friend and had faith in him right up until the moment he died.
“Good luck, my friend.” Howard smiled, the image grainy and old.
For a long moment the room was silent, until the tape reached it inevitable end and the screen faded to a black and white haze. Steve stared at the screen for a long moment before his view was impaired by the man stepping in front of him. He held out his hand.
“Tony Stark,” he said by way of an introduction. “I believe you knew my father.” Steve took his hand and shook it, letting the information sink in. “Now, how about we get you back to work?”
Pairing : Gen pretty much. But you can see pairings if you squint.
Rating : R
Notes : Written for the kink meme
Four times Howard Stark’s technology saved Captain Rogers and one time he did it himself.
1)
“And obviously you need a weapon,” Howard’s accent slipped slightly, and Steve smiled slightly. The older man had been born in America, but his father had emigrated from London and every now and again Howard would channel his father’s accent slightly - a fact that no one but Steve had ever commented on, oddly enough. “Are you even listening to me?” Howard tapped him on the shoulder and he snapped out of his thoughts, causing the engineer to laugh. “Agent Carter distracting you?” Howard’s inflection suggested it wasn’t a question. He glanced over at the pretty agent on the other side of the lab, and smirked. “Me too,” he nodded before handing Steve a simple firearm. “It might not look like much but it’s the perfect weapon, well balanced and has a mechanism that will never fail you.”
The gun felt cold in Steve’s large hand and he looked at it for a long moment before he could respond. He had never fired a gun before, and though the weight of the metal was comforting he still had no idea how it would feel to fire it. “You okay pal?” Howard asked, noticing his reaction.
“Uh, yeah fine, it’s just that I’ve never held a gun before.” Steve blushed. It sounded so stupid to admit that.
“Where you’re going you’re definitely going to need one.” Steve knew he was right, of course, but in his grand plan of saving Bucky he had never once thought that he might have to kill someone. Sometimes he was really rather stupid. “Just remember,” there was a pause and Steve expected some great moment of wisdom, instead he got, “point and shoot... or something like that.” He slapped Steve on the back and motioned towards his awaiting plane. “It’s time to get this show on the road.”
When Steve fired the gun less than thirty minutes later, fingers trembling, he remembered it really was as simple as point and shoot.
2)
The flames leapt up across the crowded factory machine room, causing the temperature to rise by more than a few degrees. The sweat began to bead against his forehead and trickle uncomfortably down the nape of his neck and down under the collar of his suit. It was times like this, (and there had been many times like this in recent months), that Steve really questioned whether it was a good idea for him to be so gung ho in his approach to tackling Hydra. Of course, those thoughts had yet to stop him from throwing himself into peril at every conceivable opportunity.
It was probably because he was momentarily distracted by his own mortality that the Hydra agent managed to get the drop on him, but either way the knife slid across his suit and failed to cut his skin. Point to Howard, he noted, as he took the perpetrator down with a swift kick to the jaw.
3)
The first time Steve had seen the shield he had fallen in love. Howard had told him later that it suited him. All the others were designed with the latest technology and retrofitted with guns and buttons, and Steve had chosen the most basic one. Howard said it was a symbol of his roots as a simple kid from Brooklyn and Steve wasn’t entirely sure he should take that as a compliment.
As it turned out, the shield was pretty much perfect. It was lightweight and nearly indestructible, plus it made a pretty good frisbee. And whilst that didn’t necessarily sound like it could be useful in the middle of a war, it turns out that it really could be. The shield had saved his life more times than he could remember, he had used it to break locks, he had used it to knock out Hydra agents, he had used it to protect him and his troops from the blue blasts that disintegrated grown men with a single blast.
But the one person it couldn’t save was Bucky. Sure, it had done his job by saving him from the initial blast, but the force of the hit was too strong for him to hold it steady and he had been thrown back. Less than four seconds after surviving that hit, the shield was crushing the shooter’s larynx and saving Steve’s life.
4)
Storming into Schmidt’s final base had seemed like a good idea when he was in mourning for the loss of his friend, but it had seemed less like a good idea when he had been preparing for it. Nevertheless, he was Captain America, he could show no fear. And that was why he had been so taken aback when Howard had given him one last gift. He had spent the whole of the night before the attack with a look on gritted determination plastered across his face, and yet the billionaire had seen straight through it, and worked tirelessly to give him one last surprise to play on Hydra.
The bike was probably Steve’s favourite bit of kit. It was both practical and full of Howard’s most creative designs. It was a ride that suited Steve, classic and American. It moved faster than anything else on two wheels and it was built to withstand the stunt-style jumps that were often necessary in an attack. The bike seemed to know what he wanted to do before he did it, but that could just have been his imagination.
Either way, as he broke through the outer boarders of the base, flanked by six Hydra riders, he was glad for the vehicle and its many additions. One by one the riders were seen off, until the final hurdle loomed in the distance. The rocket took out the tank with ease, much to Steve’s relief, and the bike climbed the slope elegantly, before slamming into the ground below leaving him thankful for the heavily padded seat - Howard really did think about everything.
In fact, Steve liked that bike so much that it was a shame to send it to its doom to blow up a hole in the Hydra base.
5)
When Steve had first woken, he had known something was wrong. All of the pieces of the room seemed to fit with where he should have been but the air was different to how he remembered. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to find out that he was once again being used as a science experiment, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t pissed him off.
All he could think of when he ran outside was his date with Peggy and all the new stuff he wanted to suggest to Howard. Then Nick Fury had dropped the bomb. 2011 was a lot different to 1944, and it only took on street to tell him that much. He allowed himself to be shepherded off to - yet another - secret government facility, and wallowed in his own self-pity. It wasn’t like he had any reason to fight for his freedom. In fact, he had nothing to fight for whatsoever.
The gentleman who came to see him had an odd familiarity about him, but Steve was fairly confident that he had never met the man before. He walked into the room, with the air of someone who could not give two fucks about what anyone thought about him, tinged with a sense of reverie about the man he had come to meet.
“There you are, as real as could be. I was beginning to wonder whether Fury hadn’t taken one too many punches to the head, but here you are.” The man rambled. “You know, when my father died I spent ages trying to work this out,” he waved a video in his hand, “trying to work out what the letter meant. I watched it every day trying to find out exactly what he was getting at... and guess what? It was you. Uh, who saw that one coming?” The stranger walked across the room, heading straight towards the liquor cabinet that Steve assumed had been put there in an attempt to make him feel like less of a prisoner. “Do you mind?” The man motioned to the decanter of vintage whiskey. Steve shook his head, it wasn’t like the alcohol would have any effect on him anyway, someone might as well enjoy it.
The stranger took a deep mouthful of the honey coloured liquid before crossing the room and inserting the tape in the player. Steve watched as a grainy image appeared on the large screen television. The face on the screen had an odd familiarity about it, and when the voice began to speak the years seemed to melt away to reveal a man who had saved his life with technology on multiple occasions. The voice detailed the unstopping search for his body, and how the country could be great again with his leadership. It told of a man who had tirelessly searched for a friend and had faith in him right up until the moment he died.
“Good luck, my friend.” Howard smiled, the image grainy and old.
For a long moment the room was silent, until the tape reached it inevitable end and the screen faded to a black and white haze. Steve stared at the screen for a long moment before his view was impaired by the man stepping in front of him. He held out his hand.
“Tony Stark,” he said by way of an introduction. “I believe you knew my father.” Steve took his hand and shook it, letting the information sink in. “Now, how about we get you back to work?”