Shattered Watch Chapter 1 of 12
Title: The Party
Fandom(s): Avengers, Iron Man, Captain America
Characters: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers
Pairing(s): Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Rating: R
Summary: All Tony Stark wanted to do was enjoy his last year at M.I.T. before his father dragged him back home to work for S.I. That was thrown a little off kilter by a small, teenie, tiny bump in the road.
Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers, as in Captain America - even if he was pre-serum - somehow got himself time-whammied from the year 1942 to 2002, which was fun. It was great. All good. Except it honestly wasn’t because Steve Rogers was a bit of a dick, and he really needed to get back to 1942 because of space-time continuum reasons.
When Steve got thrown into the year 2002, Tony Stark was his only hope in getting back home. Except, neither of them seemed to be able to be around one another without constantly stomping on one another’s feet, which shouldn’t have really been a problem, what with Steve having to get back home, which happened to be sixty years in the past. Key word: shouldn’t.
It got a little more problematic when he started to fall for the genius and vice versa. Now he had to decide whether to go back home to 1942, or stay in the future and be with Tony Stark.
Genres: Comedy, Slash, Romance, Alternate Universe: Cannon Divergence, Smut, Hurt/Comfort.
Warnings: None
Word count: 4388
The Party
Beside a minimalistic amount of stranded photographs haphazardly lazing about the walls over one half of the room, the tan drywall remained an empty canvas. Decrepit, wiry blinds clung helplessly to the single window on the left wall, blocking a small portion of light from wafting in. Between a few cricks and bends, yellow rays swelled into the open area, providing dim, early morning light. While one nightstand had few belongings - an alarm clock, a lamp, a single photograph in a dark wooden frame, and a NOKIA cell phone - the other remained empty. Two twin beds lay on either side of the nightstands, their contents similarly different. The one closest to the window held a myriad of white sheets, blankets smooth and blank from disuse, open and waiting for an occupant. Its partner held a lump, twitching in minute intervals between navy blue, spaceship covers. A singular, black desk sat below the empty bed holding only four textbooks stacked atop one another. Their owner, a camouflage backpack leaning on one of the desk's legs, was sagged open tiredly. Opposite to the desk, a matching black wooden dresser stood with abandoned drawers. A small cluster of knickknacks littered the dusty surface.
Barren. The room was barren.
The liveliest thing in the room was the explosion of clothes from a duffle bag stuffed between bed and window.
Blaringly, the alarm clock began to ring, jarring the man in the bed. Bolting up, he narrowed his espresso colored eyes and violently reached for the source of the wretched noise. Grasping the clock between darkened hands, he looked at the time, cursing beneath his breath. O' six hundred.
Switching the alarm off, he looked to find the bed next to his unsurprisingly empty and sighed. Rubbing furiously at sleep-deprived eyes, the man got up and began pulling on a pair of grey sweats and a white tank top.
Most students were still asleep, which happened to be normal for six in the morning on a Saturday in the beginnings of summer at a university.
Stifling a yawn, the man trod through empty hallways, dancing around empty beer cans, liquor bottles, and junk-food wrappers. It was surprisingly clean compared to what the dorms normally looked like. Within the halls, everything was silent, and if he had stopped to listen long enough, he could catch a snore or moan, but he didn't. It was even dimmer in the hallways than his dorm room; the lights had been switched off long ago for the night.
His trek led him a quarter mile through the campus. In the early morning, the sunlight looked much paler than what he was used to, but he knew he needed to begin getting up earlier per his soon to be career. The air was light, most of the moisture clinging in droplets to the evergreen of the lawns. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of trees lining the courtyard. The grey colored stone of the walls and archways looked particularly soft in the lazy morning light.
As he expected, there were not many people milling about in the cafeteria. The shimmering, tan tile almost only held stainless steel tables and wooden chairs. The layout was quite open with two staircases on either end leading to a second floor. Meandering over to the small section of food, the man picked out a few lethargic cereal boxes and pathetic pieces of fruit before making a beeline for the coffee machine.
With the soft sounds of life brewing, he leaned his butt against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and staring blankly out the windows that made up the outside wall. A slightly blue tinted light filtered into the room as he waited for the machine to beep.
Against his better judgment, he grabbed a drink holder, filling four paper cups with dark, steamy liquid, placing two creams and five sugars into three of four cups. Each. Deciding that he was already being irresponsible with the large amounts of caffeine and sugar, the man replaced the current sugary cereals with a few Raisin Bran boxes and reached for an extra banana and apple.
And so, his long journey began.
It was a mile from the cafeteria, adding up for a grand total of two and a quarter miles from his dorm. That, in his opinion, was just an unfair amount of walking, and all for one person. The fact that he should be asleep in his dorm only added salt to the wound.
By the time he reached his building of destination, he'd worked himself into a stupor. Pushing his way into the building, he stalked the halls until finding the right door and opened it with a cacophonous bang.
The person inside startled spectacularly, tumbling off their stool and onto the floor.
Maybe it had been worth the time and walk.
Setting the coffees onto a matte, black counter, he announced to the person: "This, I swear, is the last time I get up at the crack of dawn to feed your ass.” He paused before adding, “And if you leave my goddamn alarm clock on one more time, I will kick you out of my dorm room."
It was an empty threat, and the boy on the floor knew it. Leaning up on his elbows, he gave the man a wide smile, his own brown eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Sorry, sweetheart; I'll try better next time." Pausing, the boy sniffed the air, smile widening. "Coffee?"
Falling back onto a stool of his own, the man looked around the room. It was in complete disarray. Machine parts and torn blueprints lay everywhere. Oil was leaking onto the once white floors in multiple spots, grease pooling in others. A whirring noise captured his attention, and he saw a machine trying to push through the rubble that surrounded them.
"Ah, ah, ah!" the man snapped as the boy reached for the second cup on the tray after downing the first one. "You eat the cereal and banana before you get the rest of these."
"But-" he began, a frown marring dirty features.
"Anthony Edward Stark," he warned.
"Rhodeeeeeyyyyy," the boy in question whined.
James Rhodes shook his head: "You're lucky I even got you coffee, much less three cups. Eat. This is the third night in a row that you've pulled an all-nighter, so, yes, coffee galore. I can't, however, in good conscience, allow you to hype yourself up on caffeine and sugar without something decent in your stomach as well."
Tony continued to frown, looking disgusted at the food items before him. "Raisin Bran? You actually want me to eat Raisin Bran? The most boring, disgusting, adult-y cereal in the whole wide world? Why do you hate me? It’s because you’re an old man slowly deteriorating while I’m still in my youth, isn’t it? You jealous, Honey Bear?"
"Eat."
He grumbled as he tore open the box, complaining at Rhodey about bananas and how difficult they were to open until the man snatched the fruit from Tony's shaking hands and opened it for him. Tony ate the food, quick and dry, as fast as he could, diving back into the rest of the coffee in a matter of minutes.
Rhodey watched as Tony went back to work, the playful face changing into that of determination and focus. Having finished his own single cup of coffee, Rhodey made his way through the piles of unfinished machines, pushing them aside until he reached the frantic whirring. Clearing a path, he watched in amusement as a small robot zoomed from its entrapment, going directly over to Tony.
Blinking, Tony looked down as his stool was bumped into. "You freed him."
"You trapped him on purpose," Rhodey accused.
"Well, duh," Tony sighed, pushing the bot away with his foot. "Dum-E won't leave me alone, and I'm busy trying to get this project done."
"Is this the super-secret, science fair winning project you've been telling me about for the past few months?" Rhodey asked, once again settling himself on a stool.
Tony shot him a wide grin: "The one and only! But this baby is more than just a mere science fair project, Rhodey-bear. It's pure awesomeness that only my genius could come up with. And guess what? I'm almost finished."
"That's great, Tones, but just know I'm dragging you out of here at six tonight. Think of it as payback for your little alarm clock stunt," Rhodey told him.
Waving a hand dismissively, Tony went back to typing on his laptop: "No problem, honey-bunny. I'll be finished by then, and we can hit the ‘Thank-God-Finals-Are-Over-And-Now-It's-Summer' party."
"Oh-ho, no. No way," Rhodey deadpanned. "Definitely, definitely not. You, kid, are going straight to bed."
Tony's head whipped around, mouth in an, "O."
"Tony, no. I'm not arguing about this. You've been in here for long enough. You need sleep," the man insisted.
"But Rhodey!" Tony whined. "They've been talking about this party for months! I have to go. Plus, I've only been up all night because of stupid school. Once I graduate, I'll have plenty more time to work on my stuff and get plenty more sleep."
"Tones, once you graduate, your dad is going to make you work at his company, and you'll probably have even less time to do all this," his friend told him, eyes a little dimmer.
Tony deflated at that. "Exactly. I should at least be able to have a little fun before dad takes everything away from me." Rhodey opened his mouth to respond, but that Stark smile was back in place, and Tony continued, "Pleeeaaassse? I'll sleep when I'm dead. Plus, you know you want to go to this party. We're almost done with college completely, which means we should for sure enjoy it as much as possible. That means attending awesome, amazing, booze-tastic MIT parties."
The older man looked towards the boy whose dark circles looked like bruising, and sighed, "No booze."
Perking up, Tony grinned cheekily. "Does this mean we're going?"
"And we're leaving at eleven forty-five," he continued.
"So we're going?" Tony prompted, eyes dancing.
"And, Mr. Wants-The-World-To-Think-He's-A-Ladies'-Man, you're sticking close to me the entire time. No trying to trick older women into hooking up with you," Rhodey demanded.
"Deal! Yes to all of that!" Tony exclaimed, jumping up to hug his best friend tightly.
Rhodey patted him on the head, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull Tony closer. Freeing him, Rhodey sighed, shooing the younger man away. "Now go. Get. You have to get that done so you can at least shower and change beforehand. You stink."
Tony stuck out his tongue: "Okay mother.
Heading out, Rhodey turned in the doorway. "Tony?"
"Mmmm Hmmm?" he hummed, already getting absorbed back into his work.
"Uh, see if-see if Pepper wants to come, okay?"
Smirking at the computer, Tony only gave a thumbs up in reply. After Rhodey left, he allowed himself to once again become fully sucked into the last throes of his project. He'd been working on the damned thing since he first got here, and now his love-child was about to be born. Tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, cushioned by soft, rose-colored lips, Tony felt his excitement building up inside him. There was only so much more program left to type. He was in the final stretch.
The pseudo-lab was basically Tony's. Much of the school's faculty - with a little help from his father's money - had agreed that the Stark protégé should, indeed, have his own space to work. For the most part, it was a normal school lab. There was a counter outcropping from the wall all around the large, rectangular classroom with red-wood cabinets following along the bottom. Said cabinets also lined the walls of the room. A single, long lab table sat horizontally in the back; there had been three, but Tony had had two taken out for the extra space. The black surfaces remained opaque, and two sinks sat on either end of Tony's table and were also posted along the countertops. The sane cheap, tin-foil blinds that could be found in his dorm were sitting on the windows behind him filtering through the day's sunlight. A blue light blinked here and there from the floor and the depths of Tony's scraps where unused, unfinished, and old machines had been scattered.
With the smallest of utterances, a shining blue light sneakily began blinking from the camera on his computer.
Without his knowledge, the day had begun to fall away. The sun began to set, casting yellow rays against its backdrop horizon. The people outside who were still milling about smiled at the warm sight, ready for their summer vacation to begin. A warm breeze danced through their hair, eliciting pleased sighed and giggles from many students.
Tony Stark couldn't care less.
He knew he was being presumptuous as he loaded his completed program onto his Stark cell phone. Fitting in the Bluetooth earpiece he made at the beginning of the year, he tapped it; yet another blue glow emanated from its surface. Typing in a few last minute codes to sync up the earpiece with both his phone and his laptop, Tony held his breath. Hitting the enter key, he froze.
"H-hello?" he stammered, chocolate eyes as round as an owl’s.
He was met with silence and let out a sigh. Back to the drawing board.
"Good evening, Sir. How is it that I can be of assistance to you today?" The sudden British voice in his ear made him stumble from his chair for the second time that day. "Sorry, Sir. My intention was not to frighten you. I had assumed you were, of course, aware of my presence. You did create me."
"I did it?!" Tony squeaked.
"It appears so," the voice deadpanned.
"Do you- you have an attitude," Tony grinned.
"I do believe the term: ‘A.I.' is short for artificial intelligence. It should not be quite as shocking that I have my own personality. You are the genius, Sir."
"Well, aren't you just another rather very intelligent system?" Tony smirked.
"Another? I am afraid I was under the impression that I was the only one."
Tony nodded, "Oh, you are. You are. I am a genius, after all."
"Of course, Sir."
"What should I call you?" Tony mused to himself.
The voice from the earpiece responded quickly, "Your programming suggests my name to be J.A.R.V.I.S.. As you so eloquently put it not mere moments ago, I am Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System. That is the title of the program."
"That was supposed to be a joke," Tony muttered at his computer screen. "I guess I didn't think I'd get this far."
"Well, let me be the first to congratulate you, Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, actually sounding pleased.
"Oh my God," Tony breathed, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh my-" he cut himself off, staring up at the screen. "I-uh, holy shit. Holy shit, holyshitholyshitholyshit."
"Tones!" the door to the lab opened, and Tony looked up to see Rhodey striding in, looking around the room for him. The boy in question hopped up, causing his friend to yell and place a hand over his heart just as Tony had moments ago. "Tony St-"
"I DID IT!!!" Tony yelled, scrambling over to Rhodey, fumbling to pull the earpiece from his person and handing it over, practically shoving it in the other man's ear. Rhodey tried to push him off, but Tony was a force to be reckoned with at this moment, and a few minutes later, the earpiece was in place. "Ask him a question. Tell him to make a joke. Anything, anything, ANYTHING!"
Rhodey's eyes went wide, and Tony looked at him in wonder. "Tones, why did the earpiece just tell me that it is not a toy for you to make mundane requests upon?"
"J.A.R.V.I.S. can hear me from over here?!" Tony gasped, running over to his computer and staring at it in awe.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Rhodey asked, listening as the earpiece once again began talking to him. His own eyes went wide. "Tony, what did you do?”
"I-I-" he looked wildly at Rhodey, smile so wide the man could see his gums. "I made an A.I. A real life, honest-to-God Artificial Intelligence. Give ‘im back," Tony said, running over and making grabby hands. Rhodey dazedly handed the piece back to him, watching the boy chatter away at the thing in his ear.
Once the initial shock wore off, Rhodey couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh, "Oh my God. Tony, you-you-“
"I did!" he yelled again, throwing his hands up in the air.
"Jesus Christ!" Rhodey muttered, words coming out under his breath.
"Now this," Tony said, closing his laptop and walking up to the man, "this is cause for celebration."
Rhodey didn't protest as he followed the obviously exhausted boy out of the room. Tony was already swaying on his feet, but his excited babbling to the earpiece that was apparently the first ever A.I. made him seem almost okay. Although, on closer inspection, Rhodey thought the boy was more incoherently babbling than having an intellectual, in-depth conversation.
Making their way off campus, the two walked through the city streets until they found themselves walking across wet, deep green grass. Next to that was a forested area that, Tony would not even try to deny, was creepy as fuck during those cloudy, foggy days. Right now, though, the tall trees basked in their evergreen cloaks looking somewhat appealing rather than all murdery and stuff. What truly caught his attention, though, was the circular, cement amphitheater dug into the ground. It was small, so most students were milling about on the grass or probably getting down and dirty in the forest, but there were a few people inside the concrete haven, playing loud music from the center and serving a variety of drinks.
Immediately, Tony wanted a drink. He wanted one so badly that his mouth was drying up. Looking to Rhodey, the man only shook his head, folding his arms sternly across his chest.
"C'mon. Just one drink? To celebrate?" Tony asked.
"That was not the deal, Tones. You're underage and exhausted and functioning on practically zero food," his best friend told him.
"If I may," J.A.R.V.I.S. began to chime in, "Looking from past experience, Sir, I suggest we follow your friend's advice and stay away from the alcohol. However, should you continue to insist upon following such impulses, it will only take me mere seconds to find and then inform you on all of the ways in which your current drinking patterns may affect your life in the future."
Tony folded his own arms, pouting. "And how will you know I'm drinking? You can't see."
"Is he on my side?" Rhodey whispered.
"That is true, Sir, but I can hear. With the amount of data I am able to access, since my mind is currently occupying a computer device with access to the internet, I can quite easily distinguish the sounds of drinking," J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him.
"Oh yeah? What if I'm drinking water? You can't tell the difference between me drinking something good for me and drinking something fun," Tony declared.
By now a few people were looking over at him as he continued to talk aimlessly to himself having made his way from Rhodey. Rhodey, who had planned to keep an eye out for the kid, was smiling, waving, and walking over to a girl with vibrant red hair and a fairly professional outfit fitted with tall stilettos.
Meandering into the pit, Tony snuck a beer, leaving a five dollar bill in a glass mason jar, and slunk up the other side. Not many people bothered to greet the infamous inventor; however, a few shared with him a glare. With a huff, he sat at the edge of the forest, staring out into the city while sipping his beer. J.A.R.V.I.S. was quiet, obviously taking offense to Tony's little point. He'd have to make it up to him by finding a way for J.A.R.V.I.S. to see as well as move with him.
As he sipped his beer, Tony truly realized what a lightweight he was. The world was already a bit fuzzy and his racing mind had finally quieted enough for him to find peace. His pants were getting damp from the earth beneath him, tall trees towering behind him. A slight breeze pushed through them, wafting the scent of earth and rain in his direction as he looked up at the clear sky above. There were so many stars here. You couldn't see that many stars in California or New York, he thought. In his mouth, the beer was flat and yeasty in its flavoring, but alcohol was alcohol, and he liked its hint in the back of his throat. Around him, crickets chirped. He could actually sit back and hear the crickets chirp!
And then he blinked.
With the bountiful breeze and chirping came another noise. Twisting around so he could look into the trees that seemed to reach up into the skyline, Tony peered into the undergrowth. On his hands and knees, he searched the darkness, curiosity coursing through his veins more so than fear. It seemed like someone was panting. Panting very heavily, actually, with the addition of a wheeze. There were also sounds of leaves being crunched and shuffled around as if the thing in the forest was stumbling. It became less of a "thing" and more of a "him" when Tony heard the muttered repetitions of: "Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot."
Pausing only for a moment, Tony called into the darkened trees: "Hello?"
There was a pause as the sounds stopped before a voice called quietly back to him: "Hello? I-uh-I don't quite know where I am."
"Did you get yourself lost in the forest? How? You're, like, two feet away from the edge. Just follow my voice," Tony called back with a roll of his eyes, listening as the shuffling got closer. Backing up and standing up, Tony gazed curiously as a human figure approached, stumbling one more time before sprawling out on the grass in front of him. "How drunk are you?" Tony wondered.
"I'm not drunk!" said the figure indignantly. At first, Tony thought it was a boy younger or about the same age as him, but as the person turned over, he realized he was wrong. The man, apparently, was just really, really small. His linbs were quite thin and gangly, and his form was meager at best. Looking him up and down, Tony sighed. The man still had him on height about one inch, and they could probably have a decent battle in mass. Maybe Tony was just destined to be a small, short, little man. He frowned at the thought, following it up with: but at least he'd eventually be taller and larger than the man before him.
"Then how is it," Tony asked, words slurring together just a bit, "you get lost two feet into a forest from a party that's too loud and bright to even begin to miss?"
The man turned over, glaring at Tony, who was struck by wide blue eyes. "I don't exactly know. One minute I'm in an alley minding my own business for once, and the next minute, some guy is spouting words like, ‘Captain,' and, ‘Iron,' whatever and, ‘Avengers;' then I find myself in there."
Tony couldn't seem to find it in himself to really stand anymore. The tiredness was really beginning to creep up on him. Sitting heavily, he looked back at the man before him, blinking slowly. "That's one hell'u'va of story you got there."
"It's true," Mr. Blonde-Hair-Blue-Eyes snapped at him.
"Never said it wasn't," Tony snapped back.
"Can you please just tell me where I am so I can start making my way back home?" the man sighed.
"Okay," Tony drawled. "Welcome to Massachusetts."
The man blinked slowly at him, mouth hanging slack, and Tony was actually beginning to think there was a little truth to the story. He really did not sound drunk in the least, and those piercing eyes were bright and sharp.
"Where is it you need to go?" Tony asked, voice softening just a bit.
Once again blinking slowly, as if the information was quite a lot to handle, the man said, "Brooklyn. Brooklyn, New York."
Tony let out a small huff of laughter, sitting back down and playing with the grass on the ground beside him: "I know where Brooklyn is. Well, you're definitely not in Kansas anymore."
"I- what? I'm not from Kansas," the man spluttered.
Tony gave him a toothy grin, "Wizard of Oz? Duh.”
He was once again met with a long silence before: "What is Wizard of Oz? Are you- is this- what's going on? You're not a Nazi, are you?"
Snorting, Tony met his eyes: "Umm, no? Nazis are, like, the worst and everyone knows it. I mean, we won World War II a while ago; we all know Nazis are bad juju. I'm Tony Stark."
"What do you mean we won World War II a long time ago? The war is going on right now," the man insisted, and Tony was beginning to get slightly worried. The man hadn't even reacted to his name.
He shook his head: "Afraid not. Ended in, what, 1945? It's 2002.”
"You're not just drunk?" the man asked with a raised brow.
Tony bristled, pulling out his phone, and swiping the screen to the calendar. He lifted the image towards Mr. Confused.
The man, looking between Tony and the device he was holding out to him, shook his head disbelievingly, muttering, "Oh no. This-this is not good." He also sat up, head snapping to look around him. The wheezing was coming back tenfold, and Tony knew panic when he saw it.
Hesitantly, he scooched forward, placing an arm on the man's bicep: "Uh, everything’s okay. You're just a little confused, is all. Maybe we should get you some water and call an ambulance."
Eyes snapping back to meet Tony's, the man yanked his arm away and grounded out, "No. No, I'm Steve, Steve Rogers, and a few minutes ago, I was in 1942."
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Notes:
Thank you so much for reading, and here's a link to Chapter Two! :D https://alexrogersstark.livejournal.com/797.html