Chapter Text
Anthony Edward Stark was somewhat of a disappointment to his father.
He cared little for the small store his father owned and put his life and everything he had ever worked for into and cared even less to run it when he came of age. He much rather liked building things in there small apartment over the store, he liked to read and learn as many English words as he could so that when he one day made it to America, he would not speak in his broken english, drowned in a heavy Italian accent, nothing about him would be broken when he got to America.
He didn't show any interest in finding a wife, or even looking at girls, even though he had barely just turned 16 before Italy had declared war on the country of Germany.
He liked calculating numbers for his father, and learning new English words so he could talk to the American soldiers that came in daily, and he liked building new, more useful things from old items he found, but one thing Anthony Stark did not want to do was run a dingy, little store in a small, war stricken village in Italy until he died.
Howard Stark was always telling Anthony how he could be like his cousins that were seemingly perfect in his father's eyes, but liked to soak up attention like the sponges they were. He would tisk at him every time he saw Anthony doing something he believed was a waste of time and send him up to his mattress covered by a sheet on the wall in their apartment that had only one bedroom, which his parents shared together, reminding him how he could be more like Davide or Abele. They had both been trying to enlist for the army since they had gotten the news that Italy had gotten involved, spouting something about how they needed to protect their homeland, which Anthony thought sounded like complete crap. There was thousands of Italians protected Italy, along with thousands of other different forces, what difference was two boys?
Anthony found pleasure in sitting with his mother, Maria, next to one of the only windows in their whole house, feeling the warm sun bathe his skin as his mother ran her fingers through his dark hair and he leaned into it.
His mother was a beautiful woman, and had been a even more beautiful woman before she had, had Anthony. Her dark hair was always braided down her dark, and her dresses were always beautiful colors from fabrics that woman never bought in the store, but they always somehow managed to fit his mother. She always whispered to him in their native tongue and never treated him differently like his father, never telling him to change himself.
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The bell above the front door of the store rang and Anthony looked up from his paperback book for a minute to see a single American soldier stumble in on graceless feet.
He laid the book down with a smile and waited for the soldier to stand in front of him.
He looked taller than Anthony and older too, his hair was a dark color and his eyes were the color of the ocean that Anthony saw in the summer, his skin was tan from being in the Italian sun all day and he was all around handsome.
Cosa posso fare per te? [What can I do for you?] He asked, laying his elbows on the counter and resting his chin in his palms to look at the soldier that had the last name BARNES on his tag.
The man blinked for a minute at him and Anthony understood with a laugh. The man knew no Italian.
He thought for a minute, trying to bring the English words to the top of his head. "What may me, do for...tu." He said, not remembering the last word and the soldier smiles in relief.
"Thank you, but I just wanted to know if you sold any buttons." He said slowly, moving his hands in odd gestures that made Anthony smile as he translated his sentence. Anthony grabbed a basket of plain black buttons from under the table and slid them towards the man.
"Qui sei tua buttons, sir." [Here are your buttons, sir.] He grinned and the soldier waved him off.
"Please, I'm only 19, being called sir makes me feel old."
Anthony laughed at the soldiers voice and smiled.
" Sì, then what must I call you, Mr , Soldato" [Yes] [Mr, Soldier] He smiled playfully, leaning forward.
The soldier careful placed 3 buttons in front of him. "If you must know my name, you can call me Bucky, all my friends call me that.