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Requested by Clifton-S.T.A.R.0001

Beta'd by WithinHerHeart :)

Steve Rogers stood awkwardly on the side of the sports hall, peering out at the people he recognised but would rather forget. Because really, who didn't want to forget their high school years? It was at Natasha's insistence that he came – "To show them how much you've changed; how much you've succeed over the years," she argued.

Even now, Steve snorted under his breath. How much he'd succeeded? Yeah, because he was so proud of his forced retirement from the army after the Incident; something his injuries and memories had teamed up to remind him of every moment of his day. Even now, his knees were beginning to shake and buckle under his weight and it was only pure stubbornness that was keeping him upright. He forced the pain away and downing the last of his punch. He reached for the next plastic cup, crushing the other in a tight grip.

Across the hall, he could see his old classmates mingling, chatting and catching up. He saw a few glancing his way, the look on their face clearly showing that they were trying to figure out where they recognised him from. He didn't fault them that – he had changed a lot. In high school, he had been a runt – small and weak and suffering a number of aliments that kept from being the school jock, and even lacking the brains that would have made him the school nerd. Not that he wasn't smart – well, he got by – but academic subjects had never interested him. Art was the only area he was any good at; something he had now returned to under the assistance of his therapist. But now when they looked at him, they saw someone tall and strong, attractive and definitely someone to approve of, judging by some of the looks he was receiving. Looks he would never grow used to receiving.

Steve doubted that anyone would recognise him. He was very rarely on anyone's radar – in fact, the only friends he really had at school were Bucky and Natasha, both of whom had disappeared on some top secret mission a few days ago and wouldn't return for another week (a convenient excuse, Steve thought) – and now, he didn't care if he was. He just wanted to get in and out of this place as fast as possible, with as little uncomfortable greetings as possible. And since no one had approached him yet – except for one of the current senior students who were helping out at the event, reminding him to vote on something or other – he thought maybe he might get away with it.

However, he'd never been that lucky.

"…Steve?"

He tensed at the imploring voice automatically. God, he knew that voice. He knew that voice very well. So well that he had trained himself to pick it out from across the cafeteria, just so he could listen to him speak. It brought back memories of some of the worse times of his life.

"Just look at you – what makes you think I'd even consider someone like you?"

He swallowed heavily and forced himself to turn towards the voice, to face the man who had changed everything for him. And he still looked as good as he had before. His dark hair was shorter now, messily styled and his face had a few wrinkles imbedded, but it was still the same man. The same hazel eyes, now wide with surprise and appreciation for his new form; the same quirked grin that was faltering between arrogance and uncertainty; the same frame, a lithe and maybe a little stocky that was wrapped in expensive fabric – today, it was a suit – that showed the success of his name.

Steve's smile was strained and he mentally cursed for the way his heart beat increased erratically, nerves starting to get the better of him. He shifted on his legs, trying to make himself seem taller, more powerful, ignoring the jolt of pain that shot through the limb when he put weight on it. "Tony…"

"Wow, is that really you?" the man questioned, "I mean, wow, yeah, you look really good…"

"Hmm, you do too," Steve returned the sentiment, trying to make it sound as disinterested as possible; although he was sure he failed.

"So, um, how have you been? What have you been up to?" Tony pressed.

"Nothing much, um, I did some army work but it's over now. Just…adjusting to civilian life," he shrugged, "Um, what about you?" It was a stupid question - who didn't know what Tony Stark was up to?

"Took over my father's company and, ah, really that's it," he seemed to hesitate for a moment, "So, um, no girlfriend? Wife?"

"Ah, no, not really. It's not really my area of expertise…"

"So boyfriend then?"

"Uh, n-no, no boyfriend either," Steve flushed in embarrassment, averting his gaze quickly and clearing his throat loudly. "What's with all the questions?"

It was Tony's turn to look embarrassed. "Oh, right, yeah, we didn't really leave high school on a good note did we?"

"You think?" Steve commented dryly.

He winced. "Yeah, I know, stupid question. Listen…" he took a step forward, "…what I said back then? It was stupid and completely wrong. I was stupid and completely wrong. I was an asshole back then; you really shouldn't believe anything I said because really, it wasn't true. None of it was."

"Actually, I should be thanking you. If you didn't make that comment, I wouldn't have gotten my act together." Steve shrugged.

"That doesn't make it right," Tony stated lowly.

There was silent for a moment, neither really sure what to say. Steve tried to keep his gaze on the people in front of him, but the intense gaze seemed to burn into the side of his head and he could feel the red heat climbing from behind the collar of his shirt to colour his neck and cheeks. Tony wasn't looking away. In fact, it was almost as if he were…analysing him, and that made it hard to concentrate. God, all those years ago, how much did he want Tony to look at him like this? Why did it have to be now of all times, all these years later? Unable to stop himself, his blue eyes darted between the rest of the room and Tony beside him.

The man drew a breath in and, for a moment, Steve thought he was going to say something. Maybe he was, he couldn't be too sure, because a little voice broke over the music, calling for his "daddy", and he watched as a little boy, perhaps around three or four, not much older, rushed at them. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react, so he just froze in place as Tony swept the child into his arms and resting him easily on his hip, with the skill that only a parent could possess.

A parent. Tony Stark.

Okay, so maybe not everything that he was up to.

"Daddy, one the ladies over there gave me a lollypop, see?" the boy told him happily, brandishing the sweet excitedly, the wide grin conveying so much childish glee.

Tony smiled back, a clear sign of where the child had inherited that expression from. "That's great kiddo. Did you thank the lady?"

"Yup, I promise," the boy insisted, "Can you open it for me?"

Tony balanced his son on his hip and unwrapped the plastic from the head of the lollypop. The boy made a pleased noise and eagerly shoved it into his mouth with a delicious slurp. He seemed to notice Steve's gaze on him before he retreated shyly into his father's jacket, hiding his face.

"Oh, um, Steve, this is my son, Peter," Tony introduced with a hesitant smile, "Peter, this is Steve. We went to school together."

Steve recovered enough to put on a big smile, one that he reserved for young children. "Hello, Peter. It's nice to meet you."

Peter seemed to relax, if only slightly and realised one hand from its grip on the lapel of the jacket, to wave back in greeting before it returned to its place. Tony chuckled quietly, one hand coming up to caress the back of the boy's head comfortingly.

"Sorry, he's a little shy around new people," he said in a way of explanation.

Steve brushed it off. "Don't worry, I understand," he assured, "I'm not that good with meeting new people either." He added for Peter's benefit, before turning back to Tony, "I guess I should have asked you about a wife or girlfriend, huh? Is she here tonight?"

"Uh, no, Peter's mother is probably on the other side of the world by now if she knows what's good for her," Tony muttered with suppressed anger and Steve noted how his hold on the boy tightened, "No, it's just me and Peter now – no wife or girlfriend…or boyfriend."

"Oh," Steve blushed again, "Oh, t-that's good."

Tony gave him the once over, the trail of his eyes long and knowing and admiring, but it was the curiosity and – he wasn't sure, maybe he was just imagining things – hope that urged a shudder to bring a tremble to his large frame. "Yeah," he finally said his voice deep and whispered, "Very good."

"So um…" Steve cleared his throat loudly, searching for any and every reason he could to get away from that gaze. He couldn't handle its presence, so intense and overpowering, that it made him feel like he was the same weak, foolish kid again – something he never wanted to be. Luckily, he didn't have to. Peter diverted his dad's attention, tugging on his collar and asking whether they can go get some cake now. It made Steve's heart ache when Tony smiled easily back, announcing his agreement and already moving to oblige to the boy's wishes. Steve smiled back awkwardly, hoping, praying, that would be the end of it.

But Tony stopped. He faltered for a moment, before turning back, a determined look on his handsome face. "Are you going to the picnic tomorrow?" he practically demanded the answer.

"Uh, um, I wasn't-"he started, surprised.

"Because if you were, I was thinking we could catch up some more – or maybe not at the picnic. I could do drinks, or dinner or something – or maybe you don't want anything to do with me, which is understandable, really, and I should just walk away before I embarrass myself further, but you know, Pepper always told me I should take the initiative – and I've made a career out of it, so, uh, yeah, this is me…definitely making a fool out of myself judging by the look on your face," he winced noticeably, already stepping backwards, "so don't worry about it, okay? Let's just forget it ever happened…"

Steve wasn't sure when he reached out to grasp his hand, but he used it to pull the father and son closer. Tony looked flushed with embarrassment – something that Steve never expected to see on the man – and Peter gazed at them both with confusion. He put on a smile, not as forced as he expected it to be, and answered.

"I'd love to; meet you, at the picnic or for drinks or dinner, whatever you want. I'd like to get to know you and Peter as well."

Almost automatically the tension left his shoulders, "Really? I mean, yeah, good. I can…I can deal with anything. I guess…picnic? I was going to bring Peter with me, so…" he was taking small steps backward as he spoke.

"That sounds fine," Steve nodded, his lips twitched upward into a smirk, "I'll find you both."

"Right, okay, I'll see you then…"

He watched as Tony walked away, perhaps standing up a little straighter than he was before, but maybe Steve was imagining things. The voices in his head, once repressed, rose in volume until he could no longer ignore him. God, what was he thinking? The last time he and Tony spoke…well, it couldn't even really be counted as a conversation. It was more of an 'I'll just stand here while you insult everything about me' situation. He'd tried to hate Tony for years afterwards, as much as Natasha had at the time (and probably still did), and maybe he'd even managed to convince himself that he did hate him, but now, when faced with the man, his first crush, after all these years, it was more than obvious how much of an affect he still had, how much control.

Steve despised himself for it.

This may be turned into a series, depending on the response :)