Stark's Daughter

In Which Captain Messes Up

Steve didn't like Sage. Actually, he didn't like any of the Starks, except for Howard, but Howard was dead. Come to think of it, he still hasn't paid his respects to the old man who had given him the opportunity to be the hero. But instead, he got stuck with the annoying duo. Tony had an ego the size of India, and his daughter had one the size of Australia. Combined, it was the size of China and Russia.

So, he had to live with the Starks, mainly because it was the safest place to be, and he wasn't there often, doing missions and tracking Bucky down. Or, James, as he preferred to be called nowadays. James seemed to come to terms with Steve's eagerness to be with his best friend, and even had come close to giving a half-smile. The first in at least ninety years. This was small progress. Small, yes, but progress, and progress was good.

Today however, Steve forced himself to stay at home, reading the Sunday comics and eating a huge breakfast of oatmeal, toast, eggs and bacon, orange juice, and a plain donut with cream cheese. His metabolism burned up everything, and Jay and Sage jokingly called him "The Human Torch," because of his capacity to burn it all off.

However, Tony was away in the UK to discuss his technology and why there are so many spelling errors for them, and Sage was actually diligently working on fixing some of the suits and doing some work on cars and repairs needed. He didn't know she could do things like that, be nice. He just thought she was an egotistical jerk who wouldn't know sweet if it screamed and made her cookies.

Meanwhile, Sage was thinking about the great and all mighty Steve Rogers. He seemed to be idolized by all. And perfect. Too perfect. Everyone loved his stupid hair, his stupid persona, his stupid manners, and most of all, his stupid do-gooder personality. Always, he was the man who volunteered to do everything. It was in his nature yes, but it made you feel bad. Steve had done so much good with his life, of was sickening. Whenever Sage was around him, she felt like she just go off of a rollercoaster that had gone around 26.89 times. Queasy, sick, and ready to aim her barf anywhere. Disgusting yes, but true.

Both felt indifferent about the other. They didn't like the other, and preferred to shoot out little insulting nicknames or scathing remarks. It was a natural antipathy, and it wasn't going to go away just all at once.

And so, Steve was stuck watching Sage, who didn't do much. She had taken a break from fixing up the suits and other miscellaneous things, and had plopped down right next to Steve, eating some disgusting fast food item from McDonalds, a restaurant he tried to avoid at all costs. The smell of it made him queasy, and reminded him of a week in the old days when he had eaten a bad meal at a restaurant and had been sick for the whole week, Bucky fussing over this and that for him.

"Can you please take that disgusting thing away from me?"

"Its called a burger, bomb pop."

"That isn't a burger. Burgers are supposed to have some healthy parts you know. You're going to become overweight if you eat those."

"Thank you Dr. Obvious, any new shocking medical discoveries you want to establish? Or are you going to shake your head and sigh?" She took another bite of her burger as Steve shook his head and sighed, true to her prediction.

"Well sorry if I want to keep you alive longer than forty years," Steve muttered as she rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, cryogenics is always an option, hot shot. Or should I say cold, since you were frozen for so long?" Steve gritted his teeth as his head pounded from all the things he couldn't say.

"Well, at least people still seem to like me after 95 years. Of course, after you've been around people for ten minutes, I can't say the same."

"Ooh, you're finally getting better at comebacks, ice pop. However, you're not much better at being nice."

"I'm from the forties, where we actually had morals, not where girls just threw themselves around like floozies." It was a low hit, and the shock was on her face for a moment before she straightened her body, chin up.

"And I, at least, don't judge people until I know them."

"And yet you've judged me for the past weeks," Steve said coolly, as she laughed.

"Because its so obvious to see what pisses you off. The times have changed a bit, but you haven't, and Coulson told me a lot about what you did. Plus, you know, documentaries."

"Times have changed a bit? A bit?! Tell me, are you homeschooled? Because as far as I'm concerned, I didn't have a cell phone when I was a kid."

"Yeah, you had asthma." Sage walked away, done with the conversation. 

"Yes, but I was way better than you, in a whole hell of a lot of ways," Steve argued back as she turned around, raising her eyebrows.

"How so, Cap?" Her tone was a soft sort of deadly, ready to sic the suits on him.

"Well, for one thing, people genuinely like me for me, not because I make some suit or have lots of money," he said, the words feeling like knives. It was a serious low blow, and he didn't regret it so far, which was a good sign.

However, Sage frowned, before twisting her body away so he couldn't see the tears. It hurt to think that all he saw was that, that people actually did that. Come to think of it, did anyone genuinely like her for her? Or was it because she was smart with her hands and they could always depend on a good laugh? Sage went to her room, eyes red as she struggled to hold back tears as she looked at the mirror.

Her usual smirk was gone, and Sage didn't like the mirror. Because it reflected back at her the little inventions she used to fix for Dad Fury, or the jokes she told to lighten up the mood. Plus, there was the whole "joke of Shield" thing that an agent had said to her when she had made an offhanded remark about his fighting skills. Was that all anyone ever saw? A joke?

The real answer was no, but Steve had toyed with that idea, made Sage believe that the answer was yes.

Captain America, fighting for righteousness and valor, never doing a bad thing, had messed up. He had done a bad thing, and what was worse? He didn't realize just how bad of a thing he had caused.