Faultlines

Bermuda shorts in New York

Bermuda shorts in New York

New York had changed so much, sometimes Steve was having trouble remembering that this was in fact still home. But then, under all the new buildings and strange costumes, he spotted something so achingly familiar to him that he could see: Yes. This was still his New York. 

Those days were the worst. They told him quite plainly that it wasn't the city that was wrong, it was him.

Fury had told him he just needed a purpose (like Shield) and people (like the Starks). Today was the third day in a row that Steve was sitting in that café in the shadows of the new Stark Tower and he still hadn't gone up there.

He had read the file on Tony, Afghanistan, Iron Man... he wasn't sure he'd be welcome here. There were things in there about problems with his dad, too. Would Tony Stark really be happy to see his father's old friend?

Where Tony's file had been almost meticulously, Harry Stark seemed to be much more of a mystery. He had made the mistake of asking Fury about that. The director had not been happy and mumbled something about Harry being much more careful, utilising Stark Industries and generally being secretive. Compared to Tony he really seemed to be. The file was laughably thin. Married to a woman named Ginevra (she had accompanied him to a fundraiser. Once.) several children one of them at the age of 17. The file even raised the question who the mother was. Steve found it all very strange. Tony seemed to be a lot like Howard and probably didn't want to be and Harry sounded like the complete opposite. He had debated which one to contact, but considering that a. Harry lived in London, b. Shield didn't even have his home address and c. Tony lived very publicly in New York, he had decided on contacting Tony. Except for the fact that he was a coward and still hadn't gone in. Instead he was sitting in the café again, not even really sketching, just redrawing some lines.

"It's a bit ugly, isn't it?"

Steve jumped in surprise. He had not heard the man sitting down opposite him.

"I guess it needs to be representative.", he reflexively defended his friend's son.

The stranger nodded thoughtfully. Steve didn't think he'd ever get used to the way men dressed nowadays.

He wore bermuda shorts (BERMUDA SHORTS). In New York. And these totally impractical sandals (Flip Flips? No idea). His t-shirt proudly declared him assistant coach of something and he wore sunglasses so big they were either hiding his identity or a massive hangover.

"What are you an assistant coach of?", why was he even talking to this man, Steve wondered. Because you need to talk to people.

"Oh. I help coach a kids football team. More than one. Well, it's more a loose group of kids of all ages to be honest. But my kids are in there as well, so..."

"Never knew football was a sport for all ages."

"No. But then again, I was talking about what you'd call soccer.", he was grinning at Steve widely and something familiar was tugging at the back of his mind.

"Oh, sorry, I find your accent hard to place.", Steve admitted.

"I know. Lived in New York and LA for a while, Boarding school in Scotland. Holidays mostly spent in France and now working in London. My accent is all over the map."

"Brooklyn, born and bred.", Steve laughed, " Where in New York?"

" Manhattan."

"Fancy! Boys like you would have been beat up in my neighbourhood!" It was ridiculous, but Steve found himself really enjoying this. For the first time in a while he didn't feel like an outsider.

"Tssssss, they would have been stopped by my pack of prep school kids! Or at least their drivers."

Steve chuckled, unable to come up with a good response.

"So why haven't you gone in yet?"

Steve froze. "Sorry?"

"Tony isn't there, you know? He is in Malibu."

No. Steve had not known that. If this was an agent Fury had sent after him, he'd...

"I don't live there either, not even when I am in New York."

Holy sh.....

"You are Harry Stark."

"That I am."

"I didn't even recognize you."

"That is the idea, yes. I saw you, though. So I decided to come over. Looking for you was a big part of my childhood."

Steve flinched. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I quite enjoyed it, really. What other seven year old gets to go on an Arctic expedition. Tony, I guess, but he was so bored Mom had to send a chopper to get him."

Steve didn't know what to say. How did you respond to a revelation like that?

"I am in the city for the week.", Harry informed him and handed over a small piece of paper with an address on it. It was that piece of paper that really convinced Steve that maybe he had had Howard's younger son all wrong. It wasn't a fancy card, but a ripped out piece of what looked like a newspaper, the address was scribbled on with a pencil and lay, just as Steve had suspected, in Manhattan.

"Come by for dinner, if you like. I brought the family. Except for my oldest, he is at school."

Steve took the card in a daze.

"Dinner is always at 7. And don't worry, we always have too much anyway. Gotta run now, though, got work to do."

"Dressed like this?"

"Of course. When you look up how everything is going. Call beforehand, bring a suit and a bodyguard and they put on a show for you. If you want to know how the charities you give your money to are really run..."

"True.", Steve agreed, "Good luck and... thank you. I might come by."

"You really should. Make me look cool in front of my eight year old."

"His uncle is Iron Man.", that fact felt worth mentioning to Steve.

"That's his Uncle Tony, though, that doesn't count."

Steve laughed at Harry one last time, as he vanished into a cab.

Yeah, he thought, he should go for dinner.