So, this is set in the alternate universe that Steve and Team create when they travel back in time. Mostly doing this because the plot bunnies are forcing me to, and Endgame really kicked me in the feels.
Not sure 100% where this is going (because lord knows I'd never actually intended to write anything in this fandom) so this is going to be as much a mystery to me as it is to those reading.
No matter what the propaganda machine, history books, and comics said (The old ones were bad, the ones after he'd been iced were impossibly worse) Steve was not perfect. Oh his body might be as close to it as possible, now, but the brain that body was attached to hadn't changed much and Steve was well aware of his faults.
He rolled over, groaning out as injuries from the battle and injuries from fighting his not-twin combined into the kind of pain that made him wish he'd simply been run over by a truck.
(Again. It had happened once, during the war. Gave him an interesting perspective on the expression, and Bucky a heart attack and ribbing material sequentially.)
So, no, he wasn't perfect.
('A moody, tempermental, stubborn little shit' had been one the Howling Commandos more insightful descriptions. Funny how that one never made it to print.)
Case in point, getting his backside handed to him by a Loki doppelganger and losing a damn mind controlling weapon. All because of one simple distraction.
(Bucky is Alive... )
With that Steve was fully awake, and jerked himself up on unsteady feet as he gripped his chest, brain going into 1 part panic, 2 parts combat survival mode. He could still feel the warmth as the scepter touched his chest; but he didn't feel any different.
(Though, honestly, how the hell could he tell for sure? 'How to know your being mind controlled' wasn't part of basic training.)
Then he noticed said scepter sitting on the ground close to him. Which meant that Loki had broken free, beat him for it, and then left it sitting there for him. All nice and neat, sitting very pretty on display in the case they'd originally put it in.
(Loki's a bag of cats. You can smell the crazy on him.)
He'd thought Stark was crazy to. Crazy, loud, arogent, selfish, and careless. Then he saved a city by flying a bomb into a wormhole with no guarantee of a return home. Turns out crazy is the new 21st century's genius. He tapped the case with his foot.
(And jumped out of his skin when it didn't kill, warp around, or explode on him.)
He didn't trust it. He'd hadn't had much experience dealing with self declared 'gods' but the little he'd gathered about one in particular told him Loki had plans within plans. If he left the scepter, he left it for a reason. One that would probably bite them all in the arse later if they weren't careful.
(Best to do what had been intended all along, get it to SHIELD and let them handle any mess that came from it.)
But there was that warmth running through his chest again. And it was almost felt like a whisper in his head. And he should be scared of that voice, he shouldn't trust it. He should find the nearest SHIELD medic and tell them he was compromised, he knew that. But still, it whispered even as he argued with it.
Give it to SHIELD. (Which SHIELD would you be giving it to? The one that brought people together, or the one wanting to detenate an entire city?)
I can't trust this. (Then find someone you can trust. Find the people who have proven themselves.)
I don't know them. Not Really. (You know 'll learn more if you try)
This is way too big for 6 people. (Yes it is. So get more.)
What do you want from me? (Be better.)
Be better.
He took a breath and held it, releasing it slowly. Be better. That's what the warmth said. What every surge of his pulse and every heart beat thrummed to.
Be better.
Somehow he didn't think Loki was the type to leave that thought in his head.
And then he thought about the fight with the 'not-him'. How the man used his own tactics against him; how he used them better. The compass with Peggy's picture. How would Loki have known that detail? Never mind where he would have found out about it, why would he bother with that kind of nuance?
(Bucky is alive... Yes. That. Because, obviously, Loki spent his spare time on earth learning about Steve's best friend as a contingency in case he lost and needed to distract him long enough to regain the scepter.)
Be better.
Be better than what? (Be better than me.)
And that little whisper almost put him right back down on the floor.
Steve had spent a long time wondering about the 'what-if's'. First as a sickly kid, then as a soldier, and now as a man living out of time. He and 'what-if' were close personal friends.
So... What if?
What if that wasn't Loki? What if this was something else? He wasn't even going to try and figure out what it was, not now. But... What-if?
He looked down at the case, the scepter glowing softly and he started thinking about a whole new set of 'what-if's'.
Be better than me.
Steve snapped the case closed and picked it up. The warmth in his chest pulsed and it felt like approval.
Steve had decent instincts, a head for tactics, and an absolutely insane plan running through his head. And he had an idea who to take that to. It wasn't necessarily a good or sane idea, but it was an idea that felt right deep in that warm part of his chest. Steve had never been perfect. But he'd always tried to do the right thing.
This felt like the right thing.
(Crazy was the new 21st Century's genius, after all.)
Tony was pissed.
Sore, tired as hell, and absolutely pissed off. Loki was dust in the wind, he'd had not one but two near death experiences within a day, and now SHIELD was riding his ass about everything.
(Because of course this was somehow going to become his fault. Never mind they'd just tried to make the city into a nuclear wasteland, or that he hadn't seen any of their people stepping up to stop Loki either. Christ, at least he had a heart attack as an excuse.)
He was done. He was getting some damn food, putting a giant 'fuck off' sign on display for the entire floor, and getting himself a stiff drink or seven.
"Mr. Stark."
He was also going to up his security so that would be gods with ridiculous taste in fashion were flash fried on sight, create defensive measures so his reactor tech could never be used for anything remotely like this again, and then he was going to take a moment to question every life choice that lead to him becoming a part timer in Fury's Boy Band.
"... Dr. Stark?"
Because he wasn't sure how far he trusted a Fem Fatale (She'd stabbed him in the neck and named herself after an insect that eats males), a previously mind controlled archer (seriously, archery? Didn't that go out of style shortly after Genghis Khan?), a god of static charge (said brother to god of pain-in-the-assery), Captain Dick Head (There weren't even words. At least, none the world would approve of him slinging at a national icon.), and Jolly Green. (Okay, no bashing of the science bro. Green was a good look on him; very few people successfully pull off that much of that shade.)
Bruce spoke science and put up with being prodded, never mind proving him right by showing up just when they needed him. And it turned out Big Green was a teddy bear that caught him in mid swoon and saved his life. They could stay. Actually, he'd already decided to adopt them. He'd left a message for Pepper- complete with 'not dead, yay' confirmation- just to make it all official. Mostly so SHIELD wouldn't start to get any ideas.
(Bruce had followed him home after all. It's only fair that he gets to keep him.)
And, dear god, was he tired.
"TONY!"
Tony jumped in surprise and whirled around, only to be met with the person he felt least inclined to talk to. Oh joy. He pasted on his most annoying media smile.
(ain't no rest for the wicked. Money don't grow on trees. I've got bills to pay and mouths to feed, ain't nothing in this life for free...)
"Captain, my Captain! To what do I owe the misfortune? Or is it pleasure?... Whichever, after the 36 hour mark I start mixing up my metaphors."
He waited for the inevitable frown of epic disapproval. Which, okay, they'd only known about each other for a day, so he couldn't say it was a given for everything. But the safe money was on it becoming a standard feature for them.
Tony watched as Rogers face went through various expressions, none of which he was currently capable of reading on the man before it settled for what appeared to be basic confusion rather than the expected disdain. It probably wouldn't last long, but hopefully long enough for him to find out what the Good Captain wanted and get him out of here. He walked over casually until he was behind bar.
(And if he happened to be pulling the Mark VII bracelets from his pocket and snaping them back into place that was between him, JARVIS, and the whiskey. He wasn't getting the 'put on the suit, lets go a few rounds' vibe, but if that changed he probably wasn't going to get a lot of notice.)
He unscrewed the cap and brought up a couple of glasses.
"Drink?"
"Oh god, yes."
And that was him wasting a perfectly good splash of alcohol as his body jerked in shock. So he stopped, begged his exhausted mind for just a few more functioning brain cells, and looked up at Rogers.
Steven Grant Rogers... Captain America.
Captain America. Who somehow managed to look even more beat up than the last time Tony had saw him and was absently rubbing the center of his chest like he was queuing up for the next heart condition.
Steve Rogers. Who also had possibly the ghost of what might at one point have been a half smile. Which meant he'd wanted to get a reaction out of him. The bastard. But, okay, one point to The Man with The Plan.
Cap. Who... was holding a case... A case that looked remarkably like the one he'd seen a group of SHIELD agents walking away with. A case that was now gingerly being placed on the bar as the man took the offered drink.
Steve. Who was looking at him, looking at the case, with a facial expression set between grim determination and kid with hand caught in cookie jar.
Tony took his own drink and tapped on the top.
"So... This is-"
"-The scepter? Yeah."
He hummed. He tried not to give anything away with it. Mostly because he had no idea what the hell was happening. Seriously. Either his brain cells had abandoned him, or he was so far out of his realm of rational that they refused to create a hypothesis. He hummed again.
"And you and it are here because-?"
He took a sip of his drink.
"Is there any way you can create a good enough copy to give to SHIELD so they don't suspect we have this one?"
And then promptly choked it back up.
"Wait... What?!"
Thoughts, comments, and constructive critiques are always welcome.