Chapter Text
Italy, 1935
Steve looked around the party full of the richest Italians in the country. No matter how many times he found himself surrounded by people like this, he still didn’t feel like one of them. He wasn’t a rich boy with a multi-thousand dollar suit.
He was an explorer, an adventurer. Albeit, a controlled one.
Fury told him where to go and what to do. One day, he’d be on his own. He’d find his fortune and glory and he’d be free to be on his own. But for now, he was stuck in the same routine.
He got the job done. He was one of the best agents in Fury’s team. It was a catch 22. Because of this, he could choose the better missions, but it also meant Fury didn’t want him to go anywhere. He was too valuable. Not that Steve could make it on his own without Fury and the missionis he gave him.
His most recent mission was finding some special element that his client needed to build something. Steve didn’t ask questions. He just found what was asked for, received his payment, and left for the next mission.
His contact let him know that the man he was looking for was sitting at the middle table with three candles. He immediately knew it was Obadiah Stane by looking at the man with two other men in suits on each side of him.
Steve straightened his suit jacket as he walked through the ballroom, past plenty of dames in beautiful dresses and flashy diamonds. He kept his eyes in front of him so the diamonds weren’t distracting from his mission.
He took a seat across from him with confidence he didn't necessarily have. "Stane," he said in greeting. There was no need for anything more formal.
"Captain Rogers." Then he turned to his men and said, "Questo è il famoso capitano Rogers?" He paused and looked Steve up and down. "Mi aspettavo qualcuno...più duro."
Steve raised his eyebrows and replied easily, "Bene, hai sentito parlare di me. Chi sei di nuovo?"
Stane narrowed his eyes. "You speak Italian, Captain Rogers?"
"I speak many languages, but I don't like to show off." Steve smirked.
"I'll have to remember that for next time," he said, swirling his drink around in his cup.
Steve's smirk turned into a grin. He didn't plan on a next time, but he stayed polite. "Good plan."
"Yes, well…" He trailed off. "You have what I asked for, yes?"
Steve pulled out the lutetium he wanted and showed it to Stane. "Of course. Do you have the diamond?"
One of Stane's men used more force than necessary to put a bag on the table. Before either of them could continue with the deal, there was a new voice behind them. "Did someone say diamond?"
Steve knew better than to turn his attention away from someone in a situation like this, but the voice dragged him in. He glanced behind him and saw a young man standing next to him in a suit probably worth more than the diamond itself. His hair was gelled back against his head, but it looked good. His facial hair was trimmed neatly in a goatee that only he could wear so well.
"Not for you, Tony," Stane said, waving his hand at the man next to him. He shoved forward the small bag and Steve reached for it.
Inside, there were only coins. Not the diamond. He narrowed his eyes and shoved it back, some of the coins falling to the floor. "The diamond was what we decided on."
Stane clenched his teeth and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a diamond, large enough to have the man, Tony, leaning closer. "The lutetium."
Steve took the metal out and said, "Give me the diamond."
Stane huffed and shoved it across. The man grabbed it first, inspecting it. Steve then pushed his side of the deal across.
Steve picked up the martini in front of him and took a sip before placing it back on the table. "Pleasure doing business, Stane." He plucked the diamond from the man's hand and stood up. He went to stand up until Stane and his men started chuckling. Steve froze.
"No, Captain Rogers. It's my pleasure." He had the wickedest of grins on his face.
"What'd you do, Obie?" The man asked, sounding almost worried for Steve.
"I didn't do anything," Stane said. "But he did. And I'll let him go if he wants, unless he wants the antidote."
Steve growled as he leaned on the table. Each of the men next to Stane pulled out a pistol and pointed it at him. "What antidote?"
"For the poison that was in your drink."
Steve tugged the man next to him close to his side and used the steak knife on the table to press against his side.
He let out a short yelp. "Obie, give him the antidote!"
"As soon as I get my diamond." Stane looked unbothered by him being threatened.
"I'll kill him!" Steve shouted, pressing the knife just deep enough to rip the fabric.
"Obie!"
"The diamond!" Stane didn't even look the man's way.
Steve knew he couldn't kill him, he didn't take innocent lives, and Stane either knew that or he didn't care if this man was killed. He also knew he needed that antidote. Sweat was beading down his forehead and his hands were shaking. He didn’t need the diamond like he needed that antidote.
Shoving the man out of his hold, he tossed the diamond to the table and held out his hand. The other one was holding tightly to the table to keep himself from falling over. While Stane and his men were now laughing as they stared at the diamond, glistening in the light of the ballroom.
Steve saw the small vial sitting on the table, well, he saw two of them just like everything else. Taking a guess and hoping it was the right one, Steve leaped across the table and tried grabbing it.
Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong one.
Within seconds, the chatter of the gala turned into chaos. He was shoved to the ground and just narrowly rolled out of the way of a bullet meant for his head. The gunshot alerted the guests to dangers and they all immediately began to run to the nearest exit.
Their table was caught in the mob and Steve watched in horror as the vial went flying into the air. He tracked it until it disappeared in a crowd of people on the dance floor. Gracelessly, he pushed himself up to his elbows and started to crawl back towards where everyone was running away from.
If the vial was lost or broken, he was a dead man.
He stayed on the ground because he wasn’t strong enough to hold himself up and because it was a better way to find the vial. They were dozens of feet stomping around him, trying to escape. He didn’t see any sign of the vial.
Being so intent on staring at the floor, he didn’t notice someone in front of him until he was hitting heads with them. He looked up and even through his blurry vision, he recognized the man from earlier.
Steve grabbed his arm before he could crawl away. “Where’s the antidote?”
He snapped back less than a second later, “Where’s the diamond?”
Realizing that he wouldn’t be any help, Steve shoved past him and continued his search. His eyes caught sight of something bright blue on the ground and when he focused his sight on the spot only a few feet in front of him, he saw the vial. He quickened his pace as he felt the sweat drip down his face like a faucet.
He was about to grab the vial when a high heel shoe came and kicked it out of the way in the owner’s haste to get to safety. Steve whirled around, falling to his side and watched as it rolled across the floor. He laid there a moment to swallow down the nausea before starting to go after it again.
Suddenly, there was more gunfire and Steve cursed under his breath as he tried to avoid it without knowing where it was coming from. He didn’t know who this Stane guy was and why his men were so intent on killing him, but they weren’t going to succeed.
He pushed himself up to his feet and wavered, falling into a serving cart. He was trying to catch his breath and regain his balance, but someone grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around. He didn’t waste a second before sucker punching Steve so hard across the face that he fell back into the cart and he took it down to the ground with him.
Before the man could shoot him while he was down, he blindly reached for something and his hand grabbed a plate. Steve threw it at the man’s head like it was a frisbee and it knocked him out before shattering to pieces on the ground.
Steve only attracted more attention as he stumbled through the mess. He thanked God that none of these men were marksman and avoided the rain of bullets. He saw the vial again, just before it was grabbed by someone. Steve wipe the sweat off his face so he could see who took it. It was the man looking for the diamond, the one Steve threatened with a knife.
Steve growled and grabbed a silver platter off of the floor, using it as a shield when people tried shooting at him. He didn’t have time to grab a gun and fight back, so he ran right for the man. He didn’t seem to care or notice the gunfire around him as he grabbed the diamond off of the floor next.
This gave Steve the perfect opportunity to tackle the unsuspecting man. He didn’t stop running until they hit the glass window and they were sailing to the cement below. He heard the man screaming as they fell and Steve wrapped his arms around him, bracing them as they landed on a cloth awning.
They rolled off it and fell only a few feet to the ground. Steve was already to his feet, dragging the man with him.
“You’re insane!” The man shouted as Steve dragged him down the street, trying to get away before Stane’s men caught up with them.
“Where is he?” Steve muttered, trying to hide in the shadows between two buildings. Thankfully, it was nighttime and was easier to hide. Unfortunately, his white suit was a stark contrast to the darkness around them.
“Where’s who? Let me go!”
“You’re not going anywhere with that antidote,” Steve seethed in his ear. The only thing keeping him from passing out was the adrenaline.
“You made me drop the diamond in your suicide jump out that window. You’re not getting anything from me!”
Steve was too busy glancing around the street anxiously to listen to him. It wasn’t until he saw the familiar car racing towards them that he relaxed. The car slammed to its brakes just as it reached them and Steve could practically smell the burning rubber.
“Get in the car!” Steve order, shoving him forward.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!”
That was when the bullets started firing.
“I’m getting in the car,” he said, quickly changing his mind.
Steve pushed him inside and then shut the door as the bullets started firing. He looked to the front seat where he saw the person he’d been waiting for. His curly brown hair was curling up around the Mets hat he wore and he met Steve with a big smile, showing off his missing front tooth.
“Just in time, Pip. Step on it!”
“You got it, Captain Rogers!” Peter turned back around and used his foot, with a block tied to his sole, to press down on the gas pedal.
“Why is a kid driving the car?” The man yelled, looking at Steve with wide brown eyes that looked just like Peter’s.
Steve ignored the question and started to pat him down, searching for the pocket with the vial. He prayed that he still had it with him.
“Stop-- what are you doing?” The man tried shoving Steve’s hands off of him, but he refused to give up.
“The antidote! Give me the antidote!”
“Why?”
“Because without me, you’re dead too!” Steve went back to feeling him underneath his suit jacket and felt it in his pocket. He reached into it and grabbed it while the man kept yelling.
“What’s wrong, Captain Rogers?” Peter asked.
“Focus on driving!” Steve ordered, feeling the car jerk as Peter grew distracted. While Peter straightened their course, Steve used his numb fingers to clumsily unscrew the cap to the vial and brought it to his lips. He drank every last drop before leaning against the car seat and breathing heavily, letting the antidote start to circulate through his body. He wanted to stop but couldn’t. Not when people were still shooting at him.
Now that he felt the effects of the poison slowly draining, he reached under the seat for the gun he knew he stashed there before the party started. He stuck his head out of the window and started to fire behind him. When he needed to reload, he came back inside and did his best to ignore the other man’s screaming in the car.
Peter couldn’t. “He’s so loud! Make him stop!”
He only stopped screaming when bullets shattered the back window to the car. And then he started to scream louder.
Steve rolled his eyes as he went back out the window and started firing at the tires of the car behind him. He hit one and made the tire pop, causing a car crash as they all collided into each other.
Peter laughed as he watched the destruction from the rear view mirror. “Nice shot, Captain Rogers!”
“The road, Pip. Watch the road!”
Peter nodded his head, turning his head back to the road again. It wouldn’t stay there long. But thankfully, it didn’t need to. Soon, they were pulling up to the end of their decided route: a small airplane hangar where a small plane was waiting to bring them to safety.
Their car crash gave them a head start so when they piled out of the car, there were no men waiting to shoot them with guns. Steve went to Peter and pushed him in front of himself so that in case they did come back, Peter was blocked.
Steve also shoved him up the steps into the plane first and waited for him to be in there safely before turning to the man. Steve had everything he needed from him and the man’s home was here. There was no reason for him to come along. Still, he asked, “You coming with?”
The man was no longer as well-kept as he was in the beginning of the party. His gelled hair was mussed and there was a streak of dirt across his cheek that Steve had the odd desire to want to wipe off. He bit his lip and glanced behind his shoulder.
Steve waved his hand impatiently. “I don’t have all day, doll. Coming or staying?”
The man looked back at him and said, “I’m coming.”
Steve grabbed his hand and dragged him into the plane. It was small and only meant for small freight deliveries, but it would fit the three of them until it could land in the meeting spot Fury had set up for him.
They shut the door of the plane just in time as the bullets started to come raining down again. They had caught up to them, but it was too late. Steve kept his head in the window, laughing down at Stane as he stood there by their abandoned car. Steve even waved to him smugly as their plane lifted off into the air.
Peter distracted him from his celebration. "I do good, Captain Rogers?"
Steve turned around and smiled down at the little guy. "You sure did, Pipsqueak."
Peter giggled before dropping the backpack he was wearing to the ground. He dropped to his knees and started to search through it.
“Why was a child driving?”
Steve turned around to face the man that he really needed to remember the name of. He was obviously sticking around for a while and Steve couldn't keep referring to him as the man. Maybe the devilishly handsome man. Steve's eyes did a quick once over of him in that silk suit and decided that was accurate enough.
“Because I couldn’t trust him to come inside with me. You know the people that go to those parties. Watch out or else he’ll pick pocket you, and you won’t even know.” Steve took the clothes from Peter’s hands. He was smiling up at him like the little shit he was. “Yeah, I’m talking about you. I wouldn’t have been able to keep you from snatching all those diamonds and jewels.”
Peter giggled some more as Steve pulled the bill of the hat down over his face.
“Who are you?” The man asked, sounding so confused.
Steve turned his attention to the man and held out his hand. “Captain Steve Rogers. An agent sent out from an organization based out of America called SHIELD.”
“SHIELD, yeah, I’ve heard of it.” The man tilted his head. “So you just make deals with criminals and collect your treasure.”
“Not always criminals, but usually, they are. They get their hands on things that SHIELD wants and they can’t get without a little help. That’s where I come in.” Steve ran a hand through his gelled hair to muss it up to how he normally liked to keep it. “And what about you? Who're you?” He turned back to the man while Peter settled on the floor of the plane.
“I’m Tony Stark. My father was partners with Obadiah Stane before he and my mom died in a car accident.” Steve knew his family had to be from some wealthy family by the looks of him. “Don’t do much though except for charm and socialize Obie’s guests.”
“Obie seemed real keen on throwing you to the dogs the moment that he could,” Steve commented as he walked to the back of the plane with his change of clothes.
“Yeah, well…” Tony started but didn’t finish.
“You don’t have to go back. I’m heading back to the states, but you’re free to stay or take a plane back to Italy. Whatever you want.” He didn’t bother to try and hide himself as he started to strip from the suit he was wearing.
It was white and obviously ruined from the gunfight and getaway, so there was no point in holding onto it. He was standing in only his underwear and glanced over his shoulder when he realized that Tony hadn't answered him.
His eyes were glued to Steve's back until Steve was looking at him. He smirked and said, "Can I put my clothes back on or are you not done staring?"
To his credit, Tony recovered smoothly. "Figured it was only fair after all the staring you were doing back at the gala."
Steve rolled his eyes, the same eyes he used to stare at Tony many times. Then he began to pull on his pants and then buttoned up his shirt. He kept his leather jacket draped over his arm instead of pulling on even though it was cold in the plane.
"Please. Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," he said as he walked over to where Peter was curled up underneath one of the plane windows. He picked him up and leaned against a few cargo crates. Peter stayed curled against his chest and Steve covered him with his leather jacket like it was a blanket.
"What are you doing?" Tony asked, standing a few feet away.
"What's it look like? We're getting some sleep. You probably should too. The flight is a few hours long." Steve grabbed his hat from where Peter left it by the backpack and placed it over his face.
He shut his eyes as he heard Tony shuffling around next to them. He heard him grumbling a few curses under his breath as he probably attempted to get comfortable.
Still with his eyes closed, Steve grinned and said, "Goodnight, doll."