Chapter Text
Growing up, all Tony had heard were stories of the great Captain America, the holy Steve Rogers. Nothing in any of the stories he heard could have prepared him for what Rogers really was. It was as if the person in the stories and comics had never existed. The plane crash had left nothing behind of Steve Rogers. It only left an empty shell of what was once a man.
Steve Rogers wishes he had died in the plane crash. He hated the 21st century. He hated the new cars, the new technology. He just wanted to go back to his Brooklyn, his world, his time. God, he missed Bucky. He missed Peggy. He missed Dum-Dum. He missed his Commandos, his team. He missed his mom. God, he really missed his mom. He missed his Bucky. Bucky before the war. Before he was captured. Before the torture. Why can’t he just go back? He wants to go back so desperately. He hated SHIELD, whatever it was. He hated that they finally found him. He hated that they wanted him to fight for them. He hated that redhead, Natasha, and how she was always following him, making sure he didn’t die or anything. He didn’t need someone to shadow him. He doesn’t even want to be there. Most recently, Steve discovered that he hates Tony Stark. He had read the file the redhead had given him. The things Stark had done were awful. He was an awful person. He HATED people like him in the 40’s and nothing was going to change that. Steve Rogers hated Tony Stark more than anything in the 21st century.