FANFIC: "Shadows Of Wings" Chapter 2/?? - (Avengers- View for Parings)
Title: "Shadows Of Wings"
Chapter Two: Contradictory By Nature
Pairings: (Future) Tony Stark (Iron Man) x Steve Rogers (Captain America), (Future) Phil Coulson (Agent) x Clint Barton (Hawkeye), Tony Stark & Bruce Banner/Science Bros (NonRomantic), James "Bucky Barns & Steve Rogers/ WinterCaptain (NonRomantic)
Writer: black_prophet
Word Count: 1, 739
Genre: Fantasy AU, Angst and Fluff, Humor, Sarcasm, Randomness
Rating: PG13 (to start)
Warning: WingFic!, Frequent Trips to the Department of Backstory, Robots Because the Author Likes Them Damn It, OC Cameos Likely, Largely Marvel MovieVerse AU, Potentially Non-Canon Compliant in Future Chapters
A/N: Not that anyone will read this but this is all Xi's fault. It is. I texted her to tell me not to write the thing, and she started with "Why?" and devolved into "You should write the thing". Dedicated to myeyeswillclose, with all the love I have for her (which is lots) because she told me to write the thing. I'm going to co-dedicate to thesilveramazon because when I need a boss-bitch cameo she's who I call, and it's happening. I say again, Silver OC on the horizon, that is all.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, Captain American, or Iron Man(though I totally claim calling their pairing "IronAmerica" because I mean really) or any of the Characters therein. This in no way is meant to suggest real or "in character" occurrences. This is a fanfiction, I do own the idea writing and claim all blame for actions and mistakes therein.
Summary: A winged Steve Rogers wakes in the present, a hero and an icon. He fights with the Avengers by day and wades through memories at night, trying to reconcile his past with his present. If the two weren't so remarkably different, he may have had an easier time of it. As it stands, he better work things out quickly, or he'll never be ready for when the two collide.
**
Tony Stark knows that he’s an asshole, and knows that nearly every magazine on the face of the planet has called him such at least once. Most of the time he even embraces that aspect of the personality, flaunts it, fits it somewhere after genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and before part-time superhero, borderline villain. He gets it; he’s hard to deal with, impossible to be around, and has a tendency to do everything but what he should do or what people need him to do.
He’s no walk in the park, and Pepper has told him that enough that it actually sunk in. He is cognizant of the issue, and is even working to correct it… Sort of. Most days? Whatever, there’s some important quote about good intentions that applies to this issue. It’s not important at the moment, but it exists.
In spite of all that “negative feedback”, Tony’s trying. And it honestly isn’t his intention to pick a fight with Fury’s Golden Boy right out of the gate. It isn’t. He’s almost excited to meet the guy, actually. Imagine, the real Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America and Tony gets to meet him. It’s like a dream come true for his inner child. Why the hell would he get in a knock-down, drag-out with a guy he looked up to most of his life? Even Tony’s not that emotionally stunted… Or so he would have argued before he actually met Steve Rogers.
The fact remains, it is not Tony’s intention to totally rile a super solder during their first actual conversation. But for all that it really isn’t planned, it sure as hell happens.
It should have gone perfectly, really. Tony had every intention of being a good boy, of casually greeting a guy his father helped turn into the first real super hero -one of Tony’s personal heroes, at least as a child, if he’s being honest- and maybe even starting up a casual sort of friendship. He has every intention of being a team player, just to prove to Fury that he can. But Captain America walks in the room, cowl left elsewhere and his wings -big, whole, beautiful wings- half-spread, and Tony’s mouth just runs off by itself.
He lets out a low whistle just to get things started, and makes a show of eying Steve from head to toe, his tone gone to a low crooning growl. ”Wow Fury, you sure can pick up. I’m betting he’s the lead singer for your band, huh? You always put the cute ones out front; the fangirls like to grab ‘em.”
Nick Fury’s face flickers with an expression born of resignation and disappointment. “Stark, just don’t.”
And that could have been the end of it, nearly was the end of it. Again Tony had every intention of reining it in, of offering an airy apology and a light smile and actually introducing himself… But Steve opens his mouth with: ”Stark. I knew your father, he was a good man.” and that is it.
The gloves are off, and Tony Stark is an asshole in every sense of the world, his damaged wings flaring as he draws breath for a retaliation. “Wow, I hope your ability to read people has improved after seventy years on ice, Capsicle, or this little pep squad is in for a rough ride.”
“Stark.” Nick’s tone is warning, but it’s a little late.
Tony’s not a quitter, so why the hell try and stop it once he’s gotten the ball rolling? Maybe he’ll wind the old man up a bit, see what makes him tick, and then soothe Cap’s ruffled red-white-and-blue feathers later. He has every intention (more or less) of making amends -later, sometime, most likely- and resolving the disagreement. Really. Mostly. “Bad enough you’re taking orders from Right Eye, but you think Howard Stark was a good man? Boy, I’m glad I’m just a consultant; I’d be refusing to follow you into battle on the basis of poor observation skills and Fury would have me court-martial-ed before lunch.”
“A record even for you, Stark.” Nick mutters, and dimly Tony wonders if he’s chiming into the conversation at hand or subtly insinuating something along the lines of: You’ve just alienated a potential team mate in under thirty seconds, and I’m impressed in a way that is wholly unflattering to you.
He never finds out either, because Steve has turned and is walking out of the room again, his big wings tight to his back with tension. Before the door slides closed behind him Tony starts at the pattern, realizing just a moment too late that the wings of the man in front of him are only white and blue, with a hint of grey. There’s no bold scarlet to be seen, and Tony remembers all the prints he had of Captain America. There had definitely been red in his wings.
Before Tony can call him on the deception, or demand an explanation, Steve Rogers is gone. The door hisses closed on his retreating back and Tony’s left standing alone, his gold-titanium and hot-rod red dressed wings half-flared in conflict, but slightly wilting with inaction. Nick leaves him without comment, black wings folded to his back and trench coat hissing his retreat. None of the agents on the bridge look his way, but Tony’s too busy searching his memory to notice.
Somehow, it seems like he messed up.
***
A sleep-fogged Tony Stark dragged himself down the stairs toward his workshop at noon, with what was only his second cup of coffee clutched firmly in hand. His progress was mostly silent; steps light and shuffling, but the soft whisper of natural crimson feathers trailing on tile and the chime of his metal wing augmentations echoed through the hall. For the most part he ignored it all, tired enough that the sound had no effect. The constant ring of metal failed in even inspiring him to fold his wings, still too close to exhaustion to make the effort. If anyone else had been around, they probably would have thought Tony was posturing. Very few people understood that until he had at least a pot of coffee in his system, he just didn’t have the energy to manage the weight of his wings.
Thankfully the hallways of Avengers Tower were unusually quiet, considering there had been no call out for the Avengers; though the elevator had been in use elsewhere indicating at least one of the team was home. This early into his day, Tony didn’t care to wait for the elevator when he could get to his workshop faster on his own two feet. Maybe the walk would help him wake up enough to make a second pot of coffee in the quiet of his lab, one he wouldn’t have to worry about Romanov stealing.
He was just barely awake enough to make a confused sound when he stopped at the door to his workshop, wings drooping further after a weak twitch of bewilderment. Clearly, this morning it was going to take more than asking JARVIS to open the door. Not one but two of the heavy weight bags -bags Tony designed to withstand the suit, and maybe even a certain Super Soldier- were leaned against the door, hemorrhaging sand like some lethal wound..
Clearly, Steve was pissed.
Tony’s mouth worked for a moment, waiting for his brain to catch up, and when it came up on empty he poured more coffee into it in an effort to jump-start the thought process. “JARVIS?”
The British tone was cautious when the A.I. responded. “Sir?”
“Status on the Avengers?”
“Agent Romanov and Agent Barton have taken up residence in the home theater, to relax after training earlier this morning. Dr. Banner has put some of his experiments on hold to join them, though he did spend the morning in the labs. Thor appears to be in the kitchen, recently showered after sparring with the Captain.”
Tony waited for a moment, expecting the AI to continue. Silence stretched for a moment before the billionaire cleared his throat, impatiently prompting when JARVIS failed to continue. “And where is the Captain?”
“As I understand it he was on the balcony for some air, Sir.” JARVIS murmurs at last, reluctant and evasive.
Tony grunts as he sets aside the empty cup and begins shoving the bags around. Once they’re propped against the wall he takes a minute, eying the path of golden sand scattered down the hall back toward the elevator. Something must have really set the Captain off. “Gimme playback for the Gym, the elevator, Steve’s suite and then connect the dots on that.”
“For how long, Sir?” JARVIS murmurs as Tony shoves the door open and begins dragging the bags inside.
Tony grunts as he tosses one aside and then gathers up the second, making a note to summon the Roombas so they can clear away the sand in his hallway. “When did he wake up?”
JARVIS barely hesitates. “My sensors in the Captain’s suite indicate he awoke shortly before five a.m., Sir.”
“Start there, then…” Tony growls, giving one bag a nudge with his foot and ignoring the door as it closes automatically behind him. “Give me everything in the house until he dropped the bags at my door.”
JARVIS’s tone is almost approving. “Sir.”
Tony frowns as he watches the feed skid by on four different projection screens, waiting for JARVIS to queue up the hours between Steve waking up, destroying two Iron Man tested punching bags, and going out for his morning run. Most of the time he lets things in the tower pass without comment, but JARVIS was unusually tense when Tony asked for the whereabouts of the team. It wasn’t like the A.I. to be evasive, not when he preferred to respond with dry wit and sarcasm. To be fair, Tony’s question wasn’t entirely unprompted; Steve’s sandbags certainly helped and ensured that JARVIS’s tension wasn’t Tony’s only tip-off that something was wrong.
“The feeds are ready, Sir.” JARVIS murmurs politely, prompting Tony to down the last of his coffee as he shakes himself back to the present.
“Dazzle me, J, an start up some coffee?”
“It began brewing when you entered, Sir, and should be ready shortly.”
“If you had a body I’d marry you.”
“I’m most flattered, Sir.”
“I bet you are, now stop stalling and play the damn tapes.”
***
I know, another chapter already... what is the world coming to? Hello to my loves, you know who you are! It means the world to me that you're reading this, I hope you know that.
Chapter Two: Contradictory By Nature
Pairings: (Future) Tony Stark (Iron Man) x Steve Rogers (Captain America), (Future) Phil Coulson (Agent) x Clint Barton (Hawkeye), Tony Stark & Bruce Banner/Science Bros (NonRomantic), James "Bucky Barns & Steve Rogers/ WinterCaptain (NonRomantic)
Writer: black_prophet
Word Count: 1, 739
Genre: Fantasy AU, Angst and Fluff, Humor, Sarcasm, Randomness
Rating: PG13 (to start)
Warning: WingFic!, Frequent Trips to the Department of Backstory, Robots Because the Author Likes Them Damn It, OC Cameos Likely, Largely Marvel MovieVerse AU, Potentially Non-Canon Compliant in Future Chapters
A/N: Not that anyone will read this but this is all Xi's fault. It is. I texted her to tell me not to write the thing, and she started with "Why?" and devolved into "You should write the thing". Dedicated to myeyeswillclose, with all the love I have for her (which is lots) because she told me to write the thing. I'm going to co-dedicate to thesilveramazon because when I need a boss-bitch cameo she's who I call, and it's happening. I say again, Silver OC on the horizon, that is all.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers, Captain American, or Iron Man(though I totally claim calling their pairing "IronAmerica" because I mean really) or any of the Characters therein. This in no way is meant to suggest real or "in character" occurrences. This is a fanfiction, I do own the idea writing and claim all blame for actions and mistakes therein.
Summary: A winged Steve Rogers wakes in the present, a hero and an icon. He fights with the Avengers by day and wades through memories at night, trying to reconcile his past with his present. If the two weren't so remarkably different, he may have had an easier time of it. As it stands, he better work things out quickly, or he'll never be ready for when the two collide.
**
Tony Stark knows that he’s an asshole, and knows that nearly every magazine on the face of the planet has called him such at least once. Most of the time he even embraces that aspect of the personality, flaunts it, fits it somewhere after genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and before part-time superhero, borderline villain. He gets it; he’s hard to deal with, impossible to be around, and has a tendency to do everything but what he should do or what people need him to do.
He’s no walk in the park, and Pepper has told him that enough that it actually sunk in. He is cognizant of the issue, and is even working to correct it… Sort of. Most days? Whatever, there’s some important quote about good intentions that applies to this issue. It’s not important at the moment, but it exists.
In spite of all that “negative feedback”, Tony’s trying. And it honestly isn’t his intention to pick a fight with Fury’s Golden Boy right out of the gate. It isn’t. He’s almost excited to meet the guy, actually. Imagine, the real Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America and Tony gets to meet him. It’s like a dream come true for his inner child. Why the hell would he get in a knock-down, drag-out with a guy he looked up to most of his life? Even Tony’s not that emotionally stunted… Or so he would have argued before he actually met Steve Rogers.
The fact remains, it is not Tony’s intention to totally rile a super solder during their first actual conversation. But for all that it really isn’t planned, it sure as hell happens.
It should have gone perfectly, really. Tony had every intention of being a good boy, of casually greeting a guy his father helped turn into the first real super hero -one of Tony’s personal heroes, at least as a child, if he’s being honest- and maybe even starting up a casual sort of friendship. He has every intention of being a team player, just to prove to Fury that he can. But Captain America walks in the room, cowl left elsewhere and his wings -big, whole, beautiful wings- half-spread, and Tony’s mouth just runs off by itself.
He lets out a low whistle just to get things started, and makes a show of eying Steve from head to toe, his tone gone to a low crooning growl. ”Wow Fury, you sure can pick up. I’m betting he’s the lead singer for your band, huh? You always put the cute ones out front; the fangirls like to grab ‘em.”
Nick Fury’s face flickers with an expression born of resignation and disappointment. “Stark, just don’t.”
And that could have been the end of it, nearly was the end of it. Again Tony had every intention of reining it in, of offering an airy apology and a light smile and actually introducing himself… But Steve opens his mouth with: ”Stark. I knew your father, he was a good man.” and that is it.
The gloves are off, and Tony Stark is an asshole in every sense of the world, his damaged wings flaring as he draws breath for a retaliation. “Wow, I hope your ability to read people has improved after seventy years on ice, Capsicle, or this little pep squad is in for a rough ride.”
“Stark.” Nick’s tone is warning, but it’s a little late.
Tony’s not a quitter, so why the hell try and stop it once he’s gotten the ball rolling? Maybe he’ll wind the old man up a bit, see what makes him tick, and then soothe Cap’s ruffled red-white-and-blue feathers later. He has every intention (more or less) of making amends -later, sometime, most likely- and resolving the disagreement. Really. Mostly. “Bad enough you’re taking orders from Right Eye, but you think Howard Stark was a good man? Boy, I’m glad I’m just a consultant; I’d be refusing to follow you into battle on the basis of poor observation skills and Fury would have me court-martial-ed before lunch.”
“A record even for you, Stark.” Nick mutters, and dimly Tony wonders if he’s chiming into the conversation at hand or subtly insinuating something along the lines of: You’ve just alienated a potential team mate in under thirty seconds, and I’m impressed in a way that is wholly unflattering to you.
He never finds out either, because Steve has turned and is walking out of the room again, his big wings tight to his back with tension. Before the door slides closed behind him Tony starts at the pattern, realizing just a moment too late that the wings of the man in front of him are only white and blue, with a hint of grey. There’s no bold scarlet to be seen, and Tony remembers all the prints he had of Captain America. There had definitely been red in his wings.
Before Tony can call him on the deception, or demand an explanation, Steve Rogers is gone. The door hisses closed on his retreating back and Tony’s left standing alone, his gold-titanium and hot-rod red dressed wings half-flared in conflict, but slightly wilting with inaction. Nick leaves him without comment, black wings folded to his back and trench coat hissing his retreat. None of the agents on the bridge look his way, but Tony’s too busy searching his memory to notice.
Somehow, it seems like he messed up.
***
A sleep-fogged Tony Stark dragged himself down the stairs toward his workshop at noon, with what was only his second cup of coffee clutched firmly in hand. His progress was mostly silent; steps light and shuffling, but the soft whisper of natural crimson feathers trailing on tile and the chime of his metal wing augmentations echoed through the hall. For the most part he ignored it all, tired enough that the sound had no effect. The constant ring of metal failed in even inspiring him to fold his wings, still too close to exhaustion to make the effort. If anyone else had been around, they probably would have thought Tony was posturing. Very few people understood that until he had at least a pot of coffee in his system, he just didn’t have the energy to manage the weight of his wings.
Thankfully the hallways of Avengers Tower were unusually quiet, considering there had been no call out for the Avengers; though the elevator had been in use elsewhere indicating at least one of the team was home. This early into his day, Tony didn’t care to wait for the elevator when he could get to his workshop faster on his own two feet. Maybe the walk would help him wake up enough to make a second pot of coffee in the quiet of his lab, one he wouldn’t have to worry about Romanov stealing.
He was just barely awake enough to make a confused sound when he stopped at the door to his workshop, wings drooping further after a weak twitch of bewilderment. Clearly, this morning it was going to take more than asking JARVIS to open the door. Not one but two of the heavy weight bags -bags Tony designed to withstand the suit, and maybe even a certain Super Soldier- were leaned against the door, hemorrhaging sand like some lethal wound..
Clearly, Steve was pissed.
Tony’s mouth worked for a moment, waiting for his brain to catch up, and when it came up on empty he poured more coffee into it in an effort to jump-start the thought process. “JARVIS?”
The British tone was cautious when the A.I. responded. “Sir?”
“Status on the Avengers?”
“Agent Romanov and Agent Barton have taken up residence in the home theater, to relax after training earlier this morning. Dr. Banner has put some of his experiments on hold to join them, though he did spend the morning in the labs. Thor appears to be in the kitchen, recently showered after sparring with the Captain.”
Tony waited for a moment, expecting the AI to continue. Silence stretched for a moment before the billionaire cleared his throat, impatiently prompting when JARVIS failed to continue. “And where is the Captain?”
“As I understand it he was on the balcony for some air, Sir.” JARVIS murmurs at last, reluctant and evasive.
Tony grunts as he sets aside the empty cup and begins shoving the bags around. Once they’re propped against the wall he takes a minute, eying the path of golden sand scattered down the hall back toward the elevator. Something must have really set the Captain off. “Gimme playback for the Gym, the elevator, Steve’s suite and then connect the dots on that.”
“For how long, Sir?” JARVIS murmurs as Tony shoves the door open and begins dragging the bags inside.
Tony grunts as he tosses one aside and then gathers up the second, making a note to summon the Roombas so they can clear away the sand in his hallway. “When did he wake up?”
JARVIS barely hesitates. “My sensors in the Captain’s suite indicate he awoke shortly before five a.m., Sir.”
“Start there, then…” Tony growls, giving one bag a nudge with his foot and ignoring the door as it closes automatically behind him. “Give me everything in the house until he dropped the bags at my door.”
JARVIS’s tone is almost approving. “Sir.”
Tony frowns as he watches the feed skid by on four different projection screens, waiting for JARVIS to queue up the hours between Steve waking up, destroying two Iron Man tested punching bags, and going out for his morning run. Most of the time he lets things in the tower pass without comment, but JARVIS was unusually tense when Tony asked for the whereabouts of the team. It wasn’t like the A.I. to be evasive, not when he preferred to respond with dry wit and sarcasm. To be fair, Tony’s question wasn’t entirely unprompted; Steve’s sandbags certainly helped and ensured that JARVIS’s tension wasn’t Tony’s only tip-off that something was wrong.
“The feeds are ready, Sir.” JARVIS murmurs politely, prompting Tony to down the last of his coffee as he shakes himself back to the present.
“Dazzle me, J, an start up some coffee?”
“It began brewing when you entered, Sir, and should be ready shortly.”
“If you had a body I’d marry you.”
“I’m most flattered, Sir.”
“I bet you are, now stop stalling and play the damn tapes.”
***
I know, another chapter already... what is the world coming to? Hello to my loves, you know who you are! It means the world to me that you're reading this, I hope you know that.