Fic: Wait Till Next Year (Marvel, Steve/Tony)
Title: Wait Till Next Year
Author: harmonyangel
Fandom: Avengers Comics
Pairing: Steve/Tony pre-slash
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Steve Rogers was a Dodgers fan, before the ice. Tony Stark is a Yankees fan, but he understands the importance of team devotion.
Author’s Notes: Fluffy ficlet written for the schmoop_bingo prompt “Anniversary - First.” Set in a nebulous updated version of early Avengers canon - the 60s era transported to some point in the late 90s. Many thanks to likeadeuce for handholding, encouragement, and correction of at least one factual error. Any remaining mistakes, comics-wise or baseball-wise, are my own.
Steve is watching baseball on one of the mansion’s gigantic flatscreen TVs when Tony sweeps into the room and plops down on the couch beside him like he owns the place. Which, in this case, he actually does, but that’s beside the point. Tony would walk into the White House exactly the same way.
“Subway series?” Tony asks rhetorically, taking in the mix of pinstripes and blue-and-orange on the screen. He turns to Steve, brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re a Mets fan.”
Steve turns away from the game to take in Tony’s playfully suspicious expression. “Only on a technicality,” he explains, then ruins the diplomacy of his response by adding, “since I could never root for the Yankees.”
Tony lets out a squawk. “And what, pray tell, do you have against the greatest team major league baseball has ever seen?”
“The 1941 World Series,” Steve replies, without hesitation.
Tony frowns. “1941, 1941… oh, of course. The Dodgers. I should have guessed that.”
Steve can’t help cringing at the memory. He’d only made his public debut as Captain America a few months before the series, and, in those early, pre-Pearl Harbor days, the government had been more interested in pumping him up as a propaganda symbol on home soil than sending him overseas to fight the Axis. The World Series seemed like the perfect platform for a boost of publicity - what, after all, was more American than baseball?
For the sake of his image as a representative of all Americans, Steve couldn’t publicly take sides in the series, but he sat in the grandstand watching the games with newly-sharpened eyes, silently willing his beloved Dodgers to win. Part of him couldn’t believe he was even in the grandstand at Ebbets Field, the same field where he’d spent so many afternoons cheering from the cheapest seats that he’d bought with all his pinched pennies. Ebbets Field from this perspective was as strange to Steve as his own body had become - alien and familiar all at once. But the view was spectacular, and Steve wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything in the world.
Sadly, by game four, when Mickey Owens dropped that third strike in the ninth and the Yankees sailed to their fourth victory, Steve knew it was the beginning of the end. By the fourth inning of game five the Dodgers had all but given up, and at the end of the day Steve was clenching his teeth in a forced grin and shaking the hands of the World Champion New York Yankees.
“So are you still a Dodgers fan?” Tony asks, and Steve can tell he’s genuinely curious. Tony always seems genuinely curious about Steve. At first, Steve had assumed his interest was merely scientific. He wanted to know about the shield, about the serum, about the physics and biology behind Steve’s survival of decades floating in ice. But that didn’t explain why Tony continued asking questions that had nothing at all to do with Steve being Captain America - questions about his family, about his favorite foods, about his hobbies and interests. Tony, more than anyone else alive, wanted to be Steve’s friend, and Steve was more grateful for that friendship than he’d like to admit.
“No,” Steve replies, voice wistful. “I wish I could be. But there’s nothing quite like waking up and finding out your team picked up and left for the other coast.”
Something strange lights in Tony’s eyes, but it passes quickly, and he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, humming sympathetically. “Well, let’s see how your adopted team fares against my Bronx Bombers.”
They only make it through one inning before their communicators go off; the Wasp has run into a Mole Man attack in Midtown, and the Fantastic Four, his usual adversaries, are in another dimension. “Avengers Assemble,” Steve says with a shrug, bidding Tony an apologetic farewell. A few minutes later he arrives at the scene, pulling up at exactly the same time as Iron Man. Steve’s never believed much in coincidences, and this is one coincidence too many. He smiles, and privately vows to keep Tony’s secret.
Months pass, and Steve forgets all about the baseball game in the lounge that day. He never even bothers to look up the final score. There are bad guys to fight and government events to attend, and when Steve gets a moment of down time he usually spends it with Tony, talking over coffee or playing Scrabble or, yes, watching baseball. The Yankees and the Mets both have terrible seasons, so their arguments are playful and lighthearted, and Steve enjoys the easy camaraderie.
They’re in the middle of one of their epic early-morning Scrabble games when Jan comes rushing into the room, brandishing the Daily Bugle. Steve is about to place the word “zebraic” for a triple word score, trying not to think about whether or not he would have noticed the opportunity before he was injected with the Super-Soldier Serum, but Jan’s excitement startles him into dropping the B.
“Tony! I can’t believe you did this without telling anyone!” she exclaims, thrusting the newspaper in Tony’s face.
“Hmm?” Tony looks up over the lip of his coffee mug, scanning the headlines in confusion. “Oh! Damn journalists, ruining everything.” He turns to Steve, an apologetic grin unfurling beneath his moustache. “It was supposed to be an anniversary gift, but I guess I’ll have to give it to you a few days early.”
“Anniversary?” Steve asks, blankly. He has no idea what’s going on.
“One year. Since we pulled you from the ice.”
“Oh,” Steve says. “I hadn’t realized.” And he hadn’t - he’d gotten so comfortable in his new life, with Tony and the rest of his new friends, that he’d almost managed to stop thinking about that day when he’d first seen them, when nothing in the world had seemed real and the War was only minutes behind him and a literal knight in shining armor was peering over his shoulder.
Tony is still smiling, his expression becoming more manic. “Best day of my life. How could I forget? Anyway, happy anniversary, Cap.” He passes the newspaper across the table, and Steve spots the headline immediately.
TONY STARK BUYS DODGERS, BRINGS THEM BACK TO BROOKLYN
And below it, in smaller print,
CONSTRUCTION ON NEW EBBETS FIELD TO BEGIN THIS MONTH
Steve drops the paper, scattering Scrabble tiles across the board. “Tony…” he says, but he has no idea how to finish the sentence. How did you pull this off? he wants to ask. How had Tony managed to make such a purchase without anyone finding out? He’d have had to negotiate with owners and managers, with governors and mayors in California and New York, with contractors and bureaucrats of all stripes. It had to have been a Herculean task, and one he must have pulled off between superhero battles and the day-to-day operations of running his company. When had he even found the time?
But the answer to all of those questions, Steve knows, is the same: he’d managed to do it because he’s Tony Stark.
Jan is still staring incredulously. “This is going to kill Steinbrenner, you know that, right?”
Tony just laughs. “He needs some challenge in his life. Keeps things interesting.”
Steve shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around the situation. “Tony, I… I don’t even know what to say. This is insane. I don’t deserve this.”
Tony whirls on him. “Don’t deserve this? You’re the one who’s insane. You’re Captain America! Look at all you’ve done in the past year. A baseball team is nothing compared to what you really deserve.” He reaches out and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Besides. You’re my best friend.”
Steve glances down at Tony, catching the glint in his eye. It’s still a bit manic, but there’s also something else in it, something Steve thought he’d seen that afternoon on the couch months earlier. Steve feels a warmth in his belly, his shoulders tingling not-unpleasantly where Tony’s arm is draped across them, and he decides he’s not going to question his gratefulness, or his excitement, or the unknown thing in Tony’s eyes that he’s pretty sure is reflected in his own.
Instead he imagines sitting in a new Ebbets Field next season, watching those familiar uniforms scattered across the diamond. He can hear the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd, and Tony Stark sitting beside him, taking playful jabs at the players. In his fantasy it doesn’t matter if the Dodgers win or lose - it’s still sure to beat those October afternoons in 1941.
“Thank you, Iron Man,” Steve whispers, quietly enough that Jan, who’s taken out her phone to spread the news, won’t hear.
Tony looks up at him, startled for only a moment. “You’re very welcome,” he replies. Then he smiles, a little devilishly. “The Yankees, of course, will still kick their asses.”
Steve smiles in return. “We’ll see about that.”
Author: harmonyangel
Fandom: Avengers Comics
Pairing: Steve/Tony pre-slash
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Steve Rogers was a Dodgers fan, before the ice. Tony Stark is a Yankees fan, but he understands the importance of team devotion.
Author’s Notes: Fluffy ficlet written for the schmoop_bingo prompt “Anniversary - First.” Set in a nebulous updated version of early Avengers canon - the 60s era transported to some point in the late 90s. Many thanks to likeadeuce for handholding, encouragement, and correction of at least one factual error. Any remaining mistakes, comics-wise or baseball-wise, are my own.
Steve is watching baseball on one of the mansion’s gigantic flatscreen TVs when Tony sweeps into the room and plops down on the couch beside him like he owns the place. Which, in this case, he actually does, but that’s beside the point. Tony would walk into the White House exactly the same way.
“Subway series?” Tony asks rhetorically, taking in the mix of pinstripes and blue-and-orange on the screen. He turns to Steve, brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re a Mets fan.”
Steve turns away from the game to take in Tony’s playfully suspicious expression. “Only on a technicality,” he explains, then ruins the diplomacy of his response by adding, “since I could never root for the Yankees.”
Tony lets out a squawk. “And what, pray tell, do you have against the greatest team major league baseball has ever seen?”
“The 1941 World Series,” Steve replies, without hesitation.
Tony frowns. “1941, 1941… oh, of course. The Dodgers. I should have guessed that.”
Steve can’t help cringing at the memory. He’d only made his public debut as Captain America a few months before the series, and, in those early, pre-Pearl Harbor days, the government had been more interested in pumping him up as a propaganda symbol on home soil than sending him overseas to fight the Axis. The World Series seemed like the perfect platform for a boost of publicity - what, after all, was more American than baseball?
For the sake of his image as a representative of all Americans, Steve couldn’t publicly take sides in the series, but he sat in the grandstand watching the games with newly-sharpened eyes, silently willing his beloved Dodgers to win. Part of him couldn’t believe he was even in the grandstand at Ebbets Field, the same field where he’d spent so many afternoons cheering from the cheapest seats that he’d bought with all his pinched pennies. Ebbets Field from this perspective was as strange to Steve as his own body had become - alien and familiar all at once. But the view was spectacular, and Steve wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything in the world.
Sadly, by game four, when Mickey Owens dropped that third strike in the ninth and the Yankees sailed to their fourth victory, Steve knew it was the beginning of the end. By the fourth inning of game five the Dodgers had all but given up, and at the end of the day Steve was clenching his teeth in a forced grin and shaking the hands of the World Champion New York Yankees.
“So are you still a Dodgers fan?” Tony asks, and Steve can tell he’s genuinely curious. Tony always seems genuinely curious about Steve. At first, Steve had assumed his interest was merely scientific. He wanted to know about the shield, about the serum, about the physics and biology behind Steve’s survival of decades floating in ice. But that didn’t explain why Tony continued asking questions that had nothing at all to do with Steve being Captain America - questions about his family, about his favorite foods, about his hobbies and interests. Tony, more than anyone else alive, wanted to be Steve’s friend, and Steve was more grateful for that friendship than he’d like to admit.
“No,” Steve replies, voice wistful. “I wish I could be. But there’s nothing quite like waking up and finding out your team picked up and left for the other coast.”
Something strange lights in Tony’s eyes, but it passes quickly, and he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, humming sympathetically. “Well, let’s see how your adopted team fares against my Bronx Bombers.”
They only make it through one inning before their communicators go off; the Wasp has run into a Mole Man attack in Midtown, and the Fantastic Four, his usual adversaries, are in another dimension. “Avengers Assemble,” Steve says with a shrug, bidding Tony an apologetic farewell. A few minutes later he arrives at the scene, pulling up at exactly the same time as Iron Man. Steve’s never believed much in coincidences, and this is one coincidence too many. He smiles, and privately vows to keep Tony’s secret.
Months pass, and Steve forgets all about the baseball game in the lounge that day. He never even bothers to look up the final score. There are bad guys to fight and government events to attend, and when Steve gets a moment of down time he usually spends it with Tony, talking over coffee or playing Scrabble or, yes, watching baseball. The Yankees and the Mets both have terrible seasons, so their arguments are playful and lighthearted, and Steve enjoys the easy camaraderie.
They’re in the middle of one of their epic early-morning Scrabble games when Jan comes rushing into the room, brandishing the Daily Bugle. Steve is about to place the word “zebraic” for a triple word score, trying not to think about whether or not he would have noticed the opportunity before he was injected with the Super-Soldier Serum, but Jan’s excitement startles him into dropping the B.
“Tony! I can’t believe you did this without telling anyone!” she exclaims, thrusting the newspaper in Tony’s face.
“Hmm?” Tony looks up over the lip of his coffee mug, scanning the headlines in confusion. “Oh! Damn journalists, ruining everything.” He turns to Steve, an apologetic grin unfurling beneath his moustache. “It was supposed to be an anniversary gift, but I guess I’ll have to give it to you a few days early.”
“Anniversary?” Steve asks, blankly. He has no idea what’s going on.
“One year. Since we pulled you from the ice.”
“Oh,” Steve says. “I hadn’t realized.” And he hadn’t - he’d gotten so comfortable in his new life, with Tony and the rest of his new friends, that he’d almost managed to stop thinking about that day when he’d first seen them, when nothing in the world had seemed real and the War was only minutes behind him and a literal knight in shining armor was peering over his shoulder.
Tony is still smiling, his expression becoming more manic. “Best day of my life. How could I forget? Anyway, happy anniversary, Cap.” He passes the newspaper across the table, and Steve spots the headline immediately.
TONY STARK BUYS DODGERS, BRINGS THEM BACK TO BROOKLYN
And below it, in smaller print,
CONSTRUCTION ON NEW EBBETS FIELD TO BEGIN THIS MONTH
Steve drops the paper, scattering Scrabble tiles across the board. “Tony…” he says, but he has no idea how to finish the sentence. How did you pull this off? he wants to ask. How had Tony managed to make such a purchase without anyone finding out? He’d have had to negotiate with owners and managers, with governors and mayors in California and New York, with contractors and bureaucrats of all stripes. It had to have been a Herculean task, and one he must have pulled off between superhero battles and the day-to-day operations of running his company. When had he even found the time?
But the answer to all of those questions, Steve knows, is the same: he’d managed to do it because he’s Tony Stark.
Jan is still staring incredulously. “This is going to kill Steinbrenner, you know that, right?”
Tony just laughs. “He needs some challenge in his life. Keeps things interesting.”
Steve shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around the situation. “Tony, I… I don’t even know what to say. This is insane. I don’t deserve this.”
Tony whirls on him. “Don’t deserve this? You’re the one who’s insane. You’re Captain America! Look at all you’ve done in the past year. A baseball team is nothing compared to what you really deserve.” He reaches out and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Besides. You’re my best friend.”
Steve glances down at Tony, catching the glint in his eye. It’s still a bit manic, but there’s also something else in it, something Steve thought he’d seen that afternoon on the couch months earlier. Steve feels a warmth in his belly, his shoulders tingling not-unpleasantly where Tony’s arm is draped across them, and he decides he’s not going to question his gratefulness, or his excitement, or the unknown thing in Tony’s eyes that he’s pretty sure is reflected in his own.
Instead he imagines sitting in a new Ebbets Field next season, watching those familiar uniforms scattered across the diamond. He can hear the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd, and Tony Stark sitting beside him, taking playful jabs at the players. In his fantasy it doesn’t matter if the Dodgers win or lose - it’s still sure to beat those October afternoons in 1941.
“Thank you, Iron Man,” Steve whispers, quietly enough that Jan, who’s taken out her phone to spread the news, won’t hear.
Tony looks up at him, startled for only a moment. “You’re very welcome,” he replies. Then he smiles, a little devilishly. “The Yankees, of course, will still kick their asses.”
Steve smiles in return. “We’ll see about that.”