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my-status-single · 5 months

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The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby Chapter 2

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s.

She had been pregnant. It had been early. So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included. And months later she had given birth to their son. Their son. Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

Notes: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen.

Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame

Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it.

I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

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From the author: Taglist is OPEN, just leave a comment or send me a dm xxx

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Chapter Notes: First major canon divergence. Tony and Steve meet in early 2001 as Tony had taken over for Howard in SHIELD after his death. Let’s not think about it too hard. By the end of 2001 they are established in a relationship. And early 2002 they find out about the pregnancy. Reader is born in August of 2002.

It might be a bit annoying to have the reader be so flushed out as that can distract and make it harder to insert yourself into the story but…the timeline bro.

Word count: 1114

Chapter Content Warnings: Child neglect-Mentions of Howard Stark who is a bad dad. Reader's mother is very uninterested in the reader after the birth homophobia-Steve talks about being with a man in the 40s and it is lightly implied that it was not safe pregnancy-Tony gets a woman pregnant alcohol-Steve and Tony drink beer Stony-Steve and Tony are a couple

Chapter Summary: This chapter establishes the relationship between Tony and Steve and explains how the reader came to be. Reader is the product of a one night stand from Tony prior to becoming exclusive with Steve. Reader’s mother, Katherine, is a scientist working to recreate the super serum. She is described as cold and unattached.

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Chapter 1

Tony really tried to hate Steve when they first met. Truly. For reasons he found completely justified.

His dad was an ass.

And as far as he was concerned, that was Steve’s fault.

It ended up being impossible to hate him though. Because he was just so damn nice.

Which made Tony irrationally angry.

Steve wasn’t all that impressed by Tony. He hadn’t been all that impressed with Howard either though.

He didn’t really have any particularly strong thoughts or emotions about Tony.

He was mostly baffled Howard had had a kid.

He never seemed like the type.

Regardless

They both had a strange pull toward the other.

Like the other was a connection to something long past.

Steve is someone who knew Tony’s father, who he had grown up hearing about.

Tony was Howard’s son. And though he was rarely on the same page as him, he had still been a friend. And Tony was the closest thing to something from home.

They somehow ended up as something akin to friends.

Neither were great at the whole sleeping, or self care in general, thing, so there were lots of late nights, lots of long talks, lots of secrets shared. They spoke of Tony’s dating life, Steve wanted to know just how similar Tony was to his father. And during one of those talks, after some light teasing about what Steve must have gotten up to back in the day, Steve admitted that he and Bucky had been in a relationship.

Tony wasn’t exactly surprised.

“So, you’re gay then?” He asks him. They are sat on the floor of Tony’s lab, a half eaten box of pizza between them, and beers in their hands.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever really needed to label it.” Steve admits. “I just knew Bucky was my person.” He shrugs.

Tony understands this at some level. The not needing a label, not the other thing.

“You don’t have to label it.” He says, possibly trying to put Steve at ease. “I never have. I just like…the people I like.” He says. “I’ve never committed myself to someone the way you have though.

Steve nods slowly and sips his drink. “Don’t you get lonely?”

This causes Tony to pause.

He’s never really alone. He never really allows himself to be. Like he needs a buffer between him and his head. There are plenty of people, both in and outside of his bed. He’s popular. He’s desired, wanted, sought after. He’s never lacking in people who want to give him their time.

He finishes off his drink.

“Yeah.” He says finally.

Things change between them after that night. Like there was a newfound understanding between them. Both were tired of being lonely.

It starts out as just sex. Which was new ground for Steve, and he struggled with it for a while. Until he realised that his struggles weren’t from it being casual sex, but that he was developing feelings for Tony and didn’t want it to be casual sex.

Steve had always been pretty straightforward, but he still struggled a lot with the thought of confessing. He wanted to keep Tony in his life and was worried he’d run at the mention of commitment.

But its been over a year since they met. And months since they started sleeping together.

So he just…tells him one night.

He lacked some elegance in it if he was honest with himself.

Blurting out “I want you to be my boyfriend” while you’re balls deep in someone isn’t exactly tactful.

But it worked out okay for him in the end.

The universe is a bit fucked up though.

Because just months later Tony comes to him with life altering news that neither of them had been prepared for.

And with that news Tony brought an out.

“You didn’t sign up for this.” Tony says quietly.

“No, but neither did you.” Steve responds. He’s never seen Tony so…sullen. So conflicted.

“I knew the risks of fucking someone without a condom.” Tony says bluntly. “This was always a possibility.” He lets out a breath. “I…I’m gonna step up. I’m gonna be this baby’s dad. But you don’t have to be.” He says quietly. “I’ll understand if you go.”

Steve lets out a breath and takes both of Tony’s hands. “I was in love with a man in the 40s. Tony, I gave up on the idea of having children before I was even old enough to consider them in the first place. They were never an option.” Tony goes a bit pale. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want them.” He continues. “I knew who I was getting involved with, Tony. And if having you means having this baby then I guess we’re going to be parents.”

And it’s as simple as that.

In August of that year their daughter was born.

Their daughter’s mother was someone Steve had never met, prior to going to the hospital when she went into labour. But he knew her name. He’d learned her name, read about her. Read about a lot of people like her when he had looked himself up. He learned that there were a distressing number of people trying to recreate Erskine’s original serum. This woman, Katherine, was one of them.

She was a tall, slender woman. Stereotypically beautiful but almost hollow looking. Like there was something missing inside of her.

He doesn’t remember her ever holding the baby. She hardly looked at her. Something told him she had no interest in being a mother but somehow went through with the pregnancy anyway.

But he didn’t dwell on it. He didn’t care.

Because if this precious, tiny, perfect baby girl wasn’t reason enough…the way Tony looked when he held his baby was enough to make him ignore the slight concern he felt over the way Katherine was responding to motherhood.

Tony was built to be a father.

He was so perfect with her. And Steve had never been so fond of another person.

All his outward, arrogant facade broke down the second he was with their girl. She had him wrapped around his finger.

And Steve was no better.

He knew he was in trouble the first time they’d ever made eye contact.

How could he ever say no to this tiny girl?

Katherine was clearly not interested in being a mother to her daughter. She made no fuss when Tony asked if the baby could live with him. She wasn’t breastfeeding, and the baby was clearly more attached to Tony. But despite their request, she wouldn’t sign over her parental rights. Therefore, physical custody was shared between Katherine and Tony.

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Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash

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darsynia · 1 year

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Nearer, My God, To Thee | Stony | Ch. 1

STORY MASTERLIST | TONY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST NEXT

Written for ZaraMelMercury as a part of @tonysbirthdaygala

Summary: Steve Rogers appreciated his unexpected promotion to Fourth Officer-- until it became clear that it was more about being a novelty American-born officer of the White Star Line than it was about his skill at the job. After another frustrating shift attending to First Class, he was rescued by the devilishly handsome Tony Stark, a notoriously brilliant troublemaker annoyed by his own role as the most tempting eligible bachelor on the ship.

Stark suggested a mutually beneficial agreement-- Steve would stand as a duty-borne chaperone to Tony's worst tendencies, thus saving Steve from endless hours of small talk in First Class. As soon as they shook on it, however, both realized their partnership carried much more potential. Length/Warnings: 3,603 words // light D/s themes For @the-slumberparty prompt: "I'm the reason you're still alive"

Note: After years of being captivated by the wreck itself and the stories therein, I couldn't resist choosing a Titanic AU after seeing my giftee's request involving hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, and historical AU! Please note that this is not based on Jack & Rose from the film-- a Stony retelling of that already exists.

This is a fast burn, passionate romance between two people who happen to have met at one of the worst possible times. It's been pure joy to write, and I am so delighted to share it with you now!

Tags: @chickensarentcheap @linnadhiell @sobeautifullyobsessed

Excerpt:

“You look like you could bend metal, with a grip like that,” an amused voice said from behind him.

Steve released the rail, noting the stiffness in his hands. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said as he turned toward the speaker. The man was impeccably dressed, with facial hair that brought to mind a mythological satyr, but the most compelling thing about him was his eyes. Where every other inch of him spoke of elegance, class, and condescension, this gentleman’s eyes were warm and kind.

The man’s eyebrows lifted, and Steve realized he was staring. He stammered an apology using the only thing he could think of. In the handsome stranger’s breast pocket sat an elaborately embroidered handkerchief, the perfectly-even blue stitches standing out proudly in swirls and knots on the white cloth.

“Forgive me, your handkerchief has caught my--”

“Oh, this old thing?” The man’s accent was American, but he affected a British one for his interruption, patting at the distinctive object. “It’s my signature. I’m never without it. Tony Stark, prince of industry, at your visual service,” he said, dipping his head in a small bow. His lips were twisted in a clearly amused smile that suited his devilish look perfectly.

Chapter One: There let the way appear, steps unto heaven

Being a Fourth Officer on the Titanic was a point of pride for Steve Rogers, even though in practice he spent more time in First Class keeping the rich passengers happy than fulfilling his maritime duties. Lightoller had already pulled him aside to ‘freshen’ his serious expressions into friendlier ones. He’d been reminded that there were no other American-born officers at his level, and that he was doing the White Star Line a service by offering their wealthy American guests ‘the sound of home.’

Steve knew better than to object that his accent had nothing to do with his skill at his job, and neither did the small talk with the Rothschilds or Astors. He kept his uneasiness at bay by stepping out onto the First Class deck space, hoping the brisk air would help calm his mood.

As always, his excitement to see his childhood friend once he arrived in New York kept Steve going; saying goodbye to Bucky Barnes was one of the hardest things about moving to London from America. Their letters to each other came few and far between, particularly now, with Buck in the Army, and Steve at sea.

For a man of limited means, working his way up at White Star was one of the only ways he could get to see his friend again. The promotion to Fourth Officer had been a last-minute surprise, but as much as he hated being cynical, it seemed that it was driven more by a hope to placate passengers than anything useful.

Once a half hour had passed, he was still frustrated. As they had the day before, the passengers outdoors had been delighted to call him over to stand quietly in his uniform as they chatted to each other. It seemed that his duty time on the bridge every day was to be his only respite from the upper classes.

“You look like you could bend metal, with a grip like that,” an amused voice said from behind him.

“Forgive me, your handkerchief has caught my--”

“Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers, sir. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Too late, Steve realized he used the convention of a regular introduction, not the more deferential one for men who were not equals. Before he could apologize, Stark waved him off.

“They’ve got you parading through here at every opportunity, it’s only natural you slip into a more familiar greeting. I won’t reveal your mistake if you don’t reveal mine.”

Steve was out of his element; Stark embodied a certain First Class playfulness without somehow grating on Steve’s nerves. Most of the others just gave Steve barely a glance, maybe a nod of recognition of his rank and then moved on, but not Stark.

The man in question lifted his head and sniffed in a full breath of the crisp sea air. He seemed disappointed. “You aren’t going to ask me what the mistake is, are you?”

“With respect, no sir. I am not.”

Stark’s sudden grin hit Steve in the gut in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “Good. I haven’t done it yet. I’ll let you know.”

A young woman walked over to Stark to engage him in conversation. She fully ignored Steve, which was more familiar ground. He stood politely with one hand on the railing, but to his shock, Stark reached back as though bracing himself-- except, he not quite. His hand, undoubtedly precisely placed, was now pinning Steve’s uniform cuff to the railing.

The move was so unhurried, so casually dismissive, that Steve would have been convinced it was exactly as it appeared, if it hadn’t been for Stark’s behavior in the following conversation.

The young woman was dreadfully dull, and his witting captor seemed to offload his annoyance in being stuck listening to her by feigning fascination. Every few minutes, the clever man’s hand slid further in Steve’s direction, taking Steve’s with it by necessity-- and every few minutes, the expression on Stark’s face grew more like a caricature of interest than it had before.

Tony Stark was practically embracing him by the time the young lady said something cutting and flounced off.

“That,” Stark sighed, “--was almost worth it.”

Without explaining what he meant, he stepped back and looked at Steve with a narrow-eyed speculation that made something tighten in Steve’s chest. The ache in his arm was gone in an instant.

“Am I right in assuming you’re tired of playing the toy soldier?”

The right thing to do would be to school his face to impassivity and espouse his duty, but the words died in Steve’s throat. He didn’t want to lie to Stark. Still, his loyalty was to his superiors, and--

Stark clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t choke on the platitudes, man! I understand you perfectly.”

“My apologies,” Steve tried, but the other man shushed him.

“You’re here for my amusement second, and the pride of the Line first, I know. Speaking of the former-- did you know my father is an inveterate womanizer?”

All Steve could do was work to prevent his face from showing shock. This seemed enough for Stark, however.

“I am, of course, following in his esteemed footsteps, but for some reason, my dear papa finds that irritating. He deals with it by lobbing marriageable young women in my direction at every opportunity.” Stark turned to rest his forearms on the railing. “Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other.”

Steve thought about being asked to step into a conversation with any of the young, unmarried women of First Class. The resulting nausea prompted him to turn and face the sea as well, once again gripping the metal tightly.

“Precisely!” Stark said, nudging his elbow with his own. “That was unkind of me. My intention is to ask my father to intercede, state that I’m volatile--” He stopped, pulling out a pipe to absently shift between his fingers. “I am, of course --and ask for an escort, a goodwill gesture to protect the reputations of both passengers and ship. A respectable Sub-Lieutenant such as yourself would be a fine choice, even if you weren’t begging for death with every successive minute you spend in First Class.”

A whistle sounded before Steve could formulate his response. Stark slapped his empty hand on the railing decisively, tucking away the pipe.

“The womenfolk will spruce themselves up before luncheon, meaning I am free to speak with Major Butt about getting the President’s ear for our business. I have no intention of drawing you into my scheme if you’re unwilling, so what do you say?”

Steve took a moment to contemplate, and Stark’s patience during those seconds did a lot to recommend him. The man was certainly engaging, and the respite he was offering was too enticing to give up. “If by ‘scheme,’ you mean your intention to request myself as a personal escort, sir, I am willing.”

“Good man! I’ll speak with my father, then. Do us both a favor and appear exceedingly boring and unruffled by anything I say and do, eh? In public, I mean. In private, I’d expect you to treat me as an equal.”

Stark’s warm eyes and smile of approval sparked something in Steve’s chest, something not entirely made of pride. The ‘out of his element’ feeling returned, for a different reason, now-- but this he could do. Protect this fascinating man from the very things Steve himself was intimidated by? Absolutely. Spend more time together? Please. The chance to escape the strictures of toy soldierdom was a side benefit.

“I can, sir.”

Stark almost ruined things for both of them by reaching out and grasping Steve’s hand for a second. The facade of politeness on Stark’s face faded as quickly as the veneer of cold duty did on Steve’s. There was coalfire in that grip, enough to warm his entire body.

It was sheer luck that most of the passengers had already sought to move inside, and didn’t see them.

Steve was summoned by his superiors an hour before dinner.

“You’re to have priority for laundry, Rogers, as I’m certain you have but one dress uniform, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Howard Stark has requested to speak with you, something about his son and wanting a companion among the officers to keep him in line,” Murdock said. “Tell me now if you have any objections to get out of the way before I send you down to accept?”

That was loud and clear. “No objections, sir.”

“Good. Run and change into your best, then.” The First Officer made a face as he looked him head to toe. “I’ll do my best to find you some pieces to supplement with. If you’re to spend every waking moment with that upstart son of his, you’ll need them.”

The words ‘every waking moment’ fumbled Steve’s fingers on his buttons as he changed clothing in his cramped compartment. Thanks to his efforts in keeping quiet, his sleeping crewmates barely stirred, which was the most kindness he could offer given the lamplight he’d flooded the room with. He wondered if he’d be similarly able to filter out Tony Stark’s light in the days to come. The other man had been perceptive, and his provocative questions had sent Steve’s mind reeling even before he’d realized he was physically attracted.

He’d thought those feelings were behind him, in truth. Years working his way up in maritime commerce meant years surrounded by other men, and nothing had stirred. In a few brief moments, Tony Stark had brushed away the cobwebs, shining his bright smile into the darkest corners of Steve’s mind.

Steve looked down at himself, realizing he’d paused for contemplation at the very worst of times. Well, Stark had implied he would be a bad influence.

Once finished, Steve was painfully conscious of both his need to hurry and the desire to appear calm and unruffled. After all, a hurrying seaman on a ship such as this was liable to concern the passengers, and that was not at all appropriate.

He got to the designated suite of cabins and checked his pocket watch. He was right on time, which was a relief. Steve thumbed the empty place where the picture of his mother used to reside. It fell out in Southampton, and he wouldn’t be able to replace it until he was safely back in England.

Howard Stark turned out to be the back-slapping, gregarious sort. His son was nowhere to be seen, and Steve soon understood why-- Stark Sr. wanted to give him the third degree, asking about his childhood (he dearly missed Brooklyn), his hobbies (Steve kept his sketchbook double bagged at sea), even his love life (nonexistent and not looking). As the time passed, Steve’s legs hurt from holding himself so stiffly, and the thought occurred that Stark couldn’t possibly ask such invasive questions of the young women he sent after his son.

Then again, perhaps the younger Stark was right about his father’s view of women, and he wasn’t sending them over to share Tony’s mind, just his--

An internal door burst open, revealing Tony himself, a long metal tool of some sort in his hand. “Damned thing was locked! Imagine if I had to evacuate! You might have needed to look sideways at my mother to perpetuate the dynasty.”

Howard Stark’s demeanor closed off immediately, and his eyes rolled skyward at Tony’s impudence. “The dynasty is just fine, I’m planning to entrust it to this young man’s capable hands.”

The words may have been spoken with a clear intent to chastise, but with Howard’s back turned to his son, Steve was treated to the full glory of Tony’s reaction. His eyes widened in obvious delight, and one side of his mouth turned up, emphasizing his unique goatee in a way that felt decidedly naughty.

“I hope that means I’ve met with your approval, sir?” Steve said, his heart racing in his chest at the possible double meaning.

“Did you ask him about his hopes and dreams when he was a lad?” Tony asked, coming over to look Steve over as if he were a piece of merchandise. He was carrying the handkerchief that had caught Steve’s eye, and made sure to flick it in his direction a few times, much to his father’s annoyance.

“It’s for your own good, not that you know anything about such things,” Howard griped. “Well, young man, I see that you’re in your dress uniform. Since a different officer shared our table at dinner yesterday, it will be no unusual thing for you to appear there tonight.”

“Am I appropriately dressed? I haven’t shined my shoes since we disembarked, and I--”

Tony’s hand came down on his shoulder from behind as a brusque embrace. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! He’s worried about decorum. This will be fun.” The words were dismissive, but the reassuring squeeze at his shoulder before Tony moved away hinted that it was an act.

Dinner was simultaneously boring and exciting, depending on where Steve allowed his gaze. The scattered nature of seating at the table meant that Steve was across from Tony, who was only a seat away from his father. That left Tony able to make subtle faces behind his fork which Steve was obligated to remain composed in the face of. There was something so captivating about his impropriety, the kind of freedom that Steve could only dream of having.

He ignored the number of nightmares he'd had over the years that involved breaking protocol and reaping the consequences.

Howard’s interrogation made more sense now. An impressionable, fashionable young woman with the need to make a wealthy match would find it near-impossible to resist Tony Stark’s specific charms. The question was, did Howard have other concerns? Was Steve one of a long line of ‘reputation minders?’

“Sub-Lieutenant?”

Steve started in surprise, looking up to see the entire table’s faces arrayed toward him. He’d been staring down at his bowl for so long the shape was burned in for a few seconds. Tony’s expression was smug, as though he knew he was the cause of the woolgathering.

“My apologies,” Steve said, covering his discomfort by touching his lips with his napkin.

“Not at all!” one of the women at the table said kindly. “I confess I forget the question. Someone called out your name in concern you were fatigued, I believe?”

Thinking quickly, Steve decided to go for a kind of flattery. “I’m embarrassed to say I am not. I was caught up in memories of other lively conversations, which made me think of friends I haven’t seen for a long while.”

“I hadn’t considered that!” Mrs. Astor exclaimed. “It’s much harder to see them as often, when you’re away aboard ship, isn’t it?”

The unspoken sentiment that finances were the real impediment hung uncomfortably in the air for a few seconds, and Steve didn’t dare look over at Tony as he nodded.

“The prestige of this voyage should set you up nicely for years, I imagine,” Howard remarked, and the conversation passed to other things. Steve didn’t dare look over at Tony for the rest of the meal, but after a good ten minutes of this, he did notice more noises coming from the table across from him.

The impish man seemed to be baiting him. Steve’s instincts told him he’d be most rewarded by remaining stoic, just as Tony had instructed on the deck earlier that day. It was the first time he’d chosen to be cool and professional because it was exciting, rather than out of duty.

He only slipped up once, but the image of Tony Stark slouching petulantly in his chair, a golden fork in his fingers mid-strike against his plate for the fifth time in a row was well worth the split-second glance.

Unfortunately for the man in question, he was busy speaking to his father and missed it.

When the ladies and gentlemen broke to spend time in their respective after-dinner areas, Steve made his way over to the Stark men for instructions. Tony was already agitated when he got there.

“--tedious, and you know it. It’ll be better for business if I’m not there.”

“I don’t know how you could come to that conclusion,” Howard said drily.

“Just--” Tony broke off, dropping his gesturing hand to jitter at his side. Then he caught sight of Steve. “Just send me onto the deck to ‘think about’ my behavior at dinner and let Sub-Lieutenant Rogers explain all the maritime terms until my eyelids fall off. He’ll do it, look at him! He’s a statue carved by duty.”

The sharp look Tony shot his way certainly sliced through him, but it wasn’t duty that held the knife.

“Go on, then,” Howard said, lighting his pipe. “Keep him distracted from the ladies, would you, Rogers?” he added before turning to follow the group of esteemed men heading for the smoking room.

“I’m still not looking over at you,” Steve whispered to Tony. The act of even saying that sent his heart racing, and the two of them hadn’t even defined what it was that he was avoiding.

“You’re more nervous than a skittish thoroughbred!” Tony whispered at his back, as Steve led him out onto the promenade deck. There were few others out there, but he kept walking until they were standing at a railing the farthest from the door.

He turned around and anchored himself with one hand on the metal, just as before. His heart sank to see the way his companion couldn’t stand still, his eyes darting about. Was he drunk?

“Forgive me, Mr. Stark, but were you serious about the equals thing?”

Stark clenched his jaw. “It’s Tony, and yes.”

Using his first name seemed like acknowledging that there was something unspoken, and Steve was ashamed to admit he wasn’t brave enough. He sidestepped the issue by not using any form of address at all. What he wanted to do was confront Tony about his behavior, which seemed the height of reckless disobedience, exactly the thing Howard wanted Steve to curtail. Was this some sort of game?

It wasn’t like him to risk his employer’s reputation with that kind of confrontation. “You didn’t have to do that.” Tony’s furrowed brow and possible inebriation led him to elaborate. “Compli-- Speak of me on such high terms.”

“Oh, it wasn’t just for you. I was starting to worry about whether your smile joints work. Angering my father was gravy.”

“I noticed,” Steve allowed, somewhat mollified. He looked down at his shoes. “You told me to remain impassive.”

He could hear Tony’s grin in his response. “So I did! You were magnificent.”

Did the railing just give under his hand? Because he felt he could only say something this outrageous after a clear moment of goodwill between them, Steve said, “Was that all to get a rise out of me, or your father? With respect, I don’t think I’m a good target for such things.”

Tony stepped closer, his expression sobering. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your candor. Both, I’ll admit. I see now why you might have found it uncomfortable, rather than the game it could have been.” He set his hand next to Steve’s on the railing, without touching. “Can I guess at something?”

Steve nodded.

“The situation made you feel responsible for me, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe that I was misusing my power over you? In creating culpability?”

The reluctance in Steve’s tone turned it gravelly. “Yes.”

“What if I told you I preferred it the other way? That I find it exhausting to always hold the power?”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest on hearing that. In fear, yes, but also some other motivator, one that hid in the shadows of his mind, sometimes warring with his sense of what was right, what was just.

“Rogers?”

His instincts told him what to say, but did he have the strength?

“I don’t mean to talk past you, do not trouble yourself. Just a gripe on the imbalance of--”

“My name is Steve,” he interrupted Tony. “Please use it.”

He shouldn’t, couldn’t demand, even though there was every indication that Tony wanted him to. The way Tony's whole body froze still for a second made Steve question himself, but then he turned around. The look of joy and relief on his face hit Steve as hard as their first physical touch had.

Next chapter...

Note: I couldn't resist having Tony reference Major Archibald Butt, a first-class passenger and confidante of President Taft. It was the loss of his friend that had Taft so infuriated at the conflicting reports and machinations by the Marconi company regarding the messages of rescued survivors directly after the sinking. I mention it here because not everyone might know of his existence, and that's quite a last name!

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