Chapter Text
BREAKING NEWS!
New York Times: Tony Stark, designer of Stark Tech hockey equipment, has decided to take a more active role in the hockey world by buying out the struggling New York Islanders. He has money but does he have the skill and wherewithal to turn this team around? Longtime fans of the franchise certainly hope so.
Boston Globe: In an attempt to reclaim the spotlight after a disappointing third quarter, Tony Stark of Stark Tech has bought out the New York Islanders. Will this be the beginning of hockey teams wearing sponsored jerseys like we see in European football? Brad Marchand of the Boston Bruins says, “Over my dead body”.
LA Times: Most of us on the West Coast know Tony Stark as the billionaire playboy that hosts lavish parties at his Malibu Mansion. But he might be spending a lot less time out here as reports say he’s just bought the New York Islanders and named himself not only owner but also GM. Does he have the skill to do both positions? We’ll have to wait and find out.
Deadspin: After a lockout that kept the NHL players off the ice for an entire year, players and fans are eager to get back on the ice. The lockout was caused by owners and coaches pitching a fit when they were forced to consider a petition saying women ought to be allowed in the NHL. Here at Deadspin, we’re all for diversity as long as the women wear full cages. No one wants to see women with their teeth missing. No one really wants to see men with their teeth missing either (looking at you Brent Burns).
The NHL has green lighted the drafting of women, but no one actually expected any to actually make a team, but rumor has it that Tony Stark, who recently bought out the New York Islanders, plans to sign Natalia Romanova who currently plays in the KHL.
Gotta give the players something pretty to look at, right? Especially since the Islanders were bought out for a reason. They’re going downhill fast, and not even the darling of American hockey, Steve Rogers, has been enough to save them.
Rogers and Romanova played together during the lockout for Dynamo Moscow.
Steve’s used to off-season shake-ups, he hates the end of the season not just because it means hockey’s over but because he never knows if this is the last time he’s going to play with a guy on his team. Every time he goes to locker room cleanout and tells the guys good job this season and we’ll come back stronger next year he can’t help but wonder if they’ll be with him next season.
He expected to have to say goodbye to Logan (the man doesn’t make a secret out of the fact that he wants off this team) or even Clint because there are at least five teams that are looking for a sniper of his caliber, but he never expected getting a new owner.
The lockout lasted a whole season, and he was going to spend his summer in Russia, training with Natalia and Bucky because who knew if it would spread to next season, but then the lockout was over and almost immediately it was announced that Tony Stark bought the Islanders and; well, Steve’s summer plans quickly became go back home and sit in endless press conferences.
Only, it doesn’t quite go that way.
Steve stumbles off the plane, rubbing his eyes and already cursing the jetlag that he knows is going to hit him hard in a couple hours, and heads for baggage claim. It takes four cycles of the conveyor belt for him to realize that his bag is nowhere to be seen.
Did it get lost during his layover?
Did someone recognize his gear bag and steal it?
It wouldn’t be the first time an overeager fan or a merch hunter took one of his sticks. It would be the first time someone took his whole bag.
He pulls out his cell phone, a headache already building as he contemplates who to call. Airport security? His agent?
He doesn’t really want to call Peggy, because she’ll tell him to take a few deep breaths and let her handle it when what Steve wants to do is find whoever’s guilty and start yelling. He didn’t just fly halfway across the world to find that his hockey gear is missing. And, more than that, the stick and jersey Bucky had given him.
James Buchanan Barnes was Steve’s neighbor growing up in Brooklyn. They spent every free moment they had playing street hockey, using garbage cans as goals and crushed soda cans or tennis balls as pucks. They didn’t wear any kind of equipment, and Steve got into more than one fight with kids bigger and older than him because they thought they could push him around. Bucky always jumped into the fights with him.
Steve used to joke that when they were in the NHL together, Bucky wouldn’t be able to jump to his defense because in real hockey goalies aren’t allowed to leave their creases to sucker punch other players.
But they never got to play in the NHL together, because Bucky’s parents moved to Russia taking Bucky with them, and Steve was left in Brooklyn by himself. He started hitting the gym, running and lifting weights, bulking up until he could hold his own in fights because he didn’t have Bucky to watch his back anymore.
Getting to play in the KHL with Bucky was almost a dream come true, but when the lockout ended Steve had to go home and Bucky had to stay.
They exchanged sticks and jerseys, and Bucky promised that he wouldn’t sign a contract extension. That he would come to the US and play for the Islanders.
Steve’s just staring helplessly at his phone when someone clears their throat behind him.
“Excuse me? Steve Rogers?”
Steve’s shoulders immediately stiffen before he forces himself to relax and turn around with a smile. He’d been hoping that the generic sweats and baseball cap would keep him from getting noticed, but it looks like today just isn’t his lucky day.
But it’s not his fan’s fault that he’s miserable from having to say goodbye to his best friend (again), from losing his luggage, and from being crammed into an airplane seat that’s too small for him.
“Hey,” Steve says.
The woman in front of him is in a smart, tailored business suit, and usually his female fans are younger and decked out in Islanders’s gear from head to toe, but his smile doesn’t falter. It’s always good to branch out into new fan bases.
Something about her seems familiar, her polite smile or maybe the red hair, but he can’t quite place her.
“Pepper Potts,” she tells him. “We’ve got your luggage and a car waiting.”
“Uh,” Steve says stupidly.
He definitely knows the name Pepper Potts. She’s not hockey, not an agent like Peggy, but he definitely knows her.
“Mr. Stark didn’t tell you we were picking you up?” she asks.
That’s how he knows her! Pepper Potts is in charge of Tony Stark’s PR. Steve, who has an endorsement deal with Stark Tech and has been to a few of the man’s parties, can only imagine what a nightmare of a job she must have.
She sighs, a small moment of displeasure before she’s smiling again. “Mr. Stark wanted to meet with you before the media caught wind that you were back home.”
“Ah,” Steve says. “Wants to get the narrative straight?”
“Exactly,” Pepper says. “If you’ll come with me, Happy’s waiting for us.”
Happy turns out to be the driver, and Steve supposes he should consider himself lucky he’s not being picked up in a limo. Still, having Tony Stark’s personal driver and personal PR manager pick him up from the airport is a little intimidating.
Steve’s tried not to let his fame or the recent (almost exorbitant) contract he signed go to his head. He had a modest upbringing, and after his mom died he went to live with Colonel Phillips and his family until Steve was old enough to go to college. He went to UND on a full ride and even after getting drafted to the Islanders, he continued to live the way his mother brought him up, classy but not wasteful.
He set up the Sarah Rogers foundation that a portion of his salary goes to every year, a foundation that provides scholarships for young men and women looking to go into nursing school, and he has a nice two bedroom apartment in a private building, but mostly his money sits in his savings account unless an interesting charity catches his eye.
The only frivolous thing in his life is his motorcycle. The commentators like to talk about how dangerous it is, how it doesn’t fit with Steve’s image, but he makes a living as a hockey player. He’s much more likely to take a puck to the face than fall off his bike.
Steve watches New York City through his window and wonders what changes Tony Stark has in mind as the new owner. Maybe he wants to completely rehaul the team. Could Steve be on the trading block?
He’d been honored when the Islanders took him first overall, not just because it meant all his work had paid off but because this is his hometown team. This is who he wants to play for his entire life.
Maybe Stark just wants to take the C away.
Steve’s been the captain since the start of his second season for the Islanders, and it would hurt if he lost it, but he won’t demand a trade over it. This team is his , and he’ll lead it whether he’s got a C or an A or an empty spot on his jersey.
He spends the whole ride spinning out worst case scenarios, and maybe that’s why the first thing he says when he sees the new owner of his team is not hello or even nice to meet you but, “If you move the team to LA then I will tank this team so hard we’ll make the Toronto Maple Leafs look good.”
He immediately regrets it because this is Tony Stark also his new owner and GM but Stark just laughs. “I think I like you. I reserve the right to change my mind, of course, but so far so good. I’m Tony Stark, obviously. And you’re Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy. Captain America, if you will.”
Steve was proud to represent his country at the Olympics, and even if the C felt like it was burning through his jersey every time he put on the red, white, and blue, he’d been proud to wear that too. He’s not a big fan of the Captain America jokes, and he’d been even less of a fan of their second place finish.
Next Olympics, he’s promised himself every day. Next Olympics they’re going to beat Canada for the gold medal.
“Steve’s fine,” Steve tells him.
“Modest,” Stark says. “Modest is boring. Do you want a drink?”
“No thank you,” Steve says.
He’s not as straight-laced at the media makes him out to be - yes, he’s careful not to get caught drinking on camera, and he never lets himself get drunk in public, but he does drink. And one day, when his team lifts the Stanley Cup, he’s going to shower the whole room in champagne.
He knocks quietly on the coffee table.
Stark raises his eyebrows. “Having scandalous thoughts?”
Steve keeps his expression neutral. “Jinxes are real.”
Stark rolls his eyes and goes over to his bar to get himself a drink. “I forgot what a superstitious lot you hockey players are. No, don’t frown at me. Here, this should cheer you up, I’m not moving the team to LA. The Dodgers already did that. I’m a trailblazer, not a follower.”
Steve is proud of himself when he doesn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he sits down on one of the massive white couches in the room. “But you are moving them,” he says.
“Yes. And renaming, rebranding, everything. You’re going to get new jerseys, a new stadium, a fresh new start.”
Steve’s immediately wary. He has a vision of the team in gaudy red and gold jerseys with Tony Stark’s face on them. He might actually prefer to move to LA even if that would make four teams in California. They could be the LA Palm Trees and that would be less embarrassing than whatever Tony has planned.
“Mr. Stark,” Pepper Potts chides.
“Ah,” Stark says. He appears to take a deep breath as he brings his now full glass over to the couch across from Steve’s. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Your position on the team is a secure. You’re going to stay in the top d-pairing, and you’re going to keep your C unless you epically screw up, but I don’t think screwing up is in your programming or whatever made you into the perfect human being you are.”
“I’m not perfect,” Steve says, “And I got where I am through hard work.”
Stark waves his hand, dismissing him. “Boring. Anyways, we’re rebranding around you .”
That catches Steve’s interest. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the darling of the league and the country, and, let’s be honest here, I’m not. We want the focus of the team to be on your bright shining example and not my numerous faults.”
This sounds like Steve’s going to be under even more media scrutiny. But if it means he gets to keep his team, if it means they have the chance at becoming as great as he’s always believed them to be -
Steve squares his shoulders. “What do you need me to do?”
Stark looks surprised at Steve’s easy acquiescence but he quickly starts talking before Steve can change his mind. “Look, there are three New York teams. The Buffalo Sabres obviously have Buffalo, but the New York Islanders and the New York Rangers - that’s too much New York. We should go back to our roots. The Brooklyn Avengers has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”
Steve’s mouth drops. “Brooklyn?”
“I’m thinking the Barclays Center. We’ll have to do some minor renovations, because you can’t see the whole rink from every seat, but that’ll be done in time for the season to start.”
“What’s an avenger?” Steve asks.
Tony shrugs. “What’s a wild? Not even Minnesota knows. I’m thinking a silver A with the left slash a little longer than the right one. My design team tells me that’s too similar to the Avalanche, but I’m not sure I care.”
“Right,” Steve says. “So, new name, new jerseys, new building.”
“New brand,” Tony says. “It’s what you need.”
“What else are you changing?”
“Meet your new PR manager,” Tony says with a wave towards Pepper. “Phil Coulson is going to be your new coach once I finish hammering out the contact and -”
“Phil Coulson?” Steve interrupts. “The same Phil Coulson that played with Commissioner Fury?”
They had been amazing on the ice together, but after the skate blade that cut across Fury’s face and cost him an eye and almost more, they’d both retired. Fury worked his way up to commissioner the NHL while Phil Coulson started doing the rounds as an assistant coach to basically every team that’s had any kind of success the past two decades.
“Don’t you start getting heart eyes too,” Stark says. “He’s too old for you.”
“No problem with him being a man, though?” Steve asks.
Stark looks up at him, serious for the first time this whole conversation. “I’m hoping to sign the first woman to an NHL team, and you think I have a problem with two dudes getting it on? Hell, as long as no one on the team objects, I don’t care if you have a circle jerk in the showers.”
“I object,” Pepper says, “Not to you dating whoever you like but to the team orgies in the locker room. That’s not good press. And it plays into the exact stereotypes we don’t want if we’re going to try and make hockey more inclusive.”
Steve would never do anything in the locker room, because that just seems incredibly unhygienic (plus stupid with all the camera phones these days) but the thought that he might not have to hide that he’d rather date a nice boy than a nice girl?
No.
He’s getting ahead of himself.
He needs to focus on hockey. Tony Stark is revamping the team to make it a playoff contender not so Steve can start dating.
“I’m getting distracted,” Tony says. “Stop distracting me. We need to talk team acquisitions next. Clint Barton stays. He’s one of the most highly skilled players I’ve ever seen. When he’s got an open shot on net, it’s amazing what he can do. Which means he needs someone who can get him the puck from basically anywhere and someone to keep the other team from targeting him. Ideas?”
“Natalia,” Steve says. “I played with her during the lockout. She’s the best playmaker I’ve ever seen. You think Nicklas Backstrom is good? She’s better.”
“For size, I was thinking Bruce Banner,” Tony says.
Steve...he thinks about that for a minute. Banner plays for Edmonton so Steve hasn’t played against him often, and he’s considered too unstable to be named to Team USA so Steve’s never played with him. He’s a good player, responsible in his own zone, scoring 10-20 goals a season, but sometimes it’s like a flip switches with him and he goes; well, feral’s the only word Steve can think to describe it.
He gets nasty , and he’s never seriously hurt someone in what the announcers like to call his Hulk mode, but he does usually end up in the box for a cross check or a trip or even starting a brawl. Of course, nasty might just be what they need to keep Clint from getting crushed into the boards every other play.
“He might work,” Steve says.
Tony takes out his phone and makes a few notes. “The other major trade I’m thinking is I want the Norwegians.”
There are over 5 million Norwegians in the world, but Steve knows exactly which two Stark is talking about.
“No,” Steve says.
Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson are brothers, the Odinsons adopting Loki after he billeted with them, and they’re amazingly skilled, but they’re also unpredictable. It’s a toss-up whether they play the kind of seamless hockey the Sedins are known for or whether Loki’s going to high stick Thor because of some argument they have over breakfast.
“We need some flair on our team,” Tony says, “and I’m confident in your ability to handle them as their captain.”
Fucking hell, Steve thinks. “Alright, who else?”
“Wade Wilson is a UFA. I want to give him a trial tryout.”
“Yes,” Steve says, because that one’s easy.
Wilson had a strong rookie season and an even stronger sophomore season, but during the off-season a routine physical showed the beginning stages of cancer. He went through treatment, and it’s in remission, but he’s been labeled a wild card and has spent the past three years bouncing around the minors with the occasional NHL call-up.
He deserves the chance to play hockey, and Steve wants to give him that.
“Draft,” Tony says. “I know you’ve been paying attention. “Who do you think we should go after?”
“Peter Parker,” Steve says immediately.
“What?” Tony asks. “He’s not even in my top 10!”
“And your top 9 will be drafted before we get a pick,” Steve says. “I’m not saying use our first round pick on him, and I’m not saying sign him to an NHL contract right away. Draft him and send him to Bridgeport to get some experience. He’ll be a good player in a couple years. Or maybe he’ll be a good player now.”
“Ugh,” Tony says, “Long term strategy,”
Steve smiles, sharp, because this is where he excels. “You want Bobby Drake for the same reason.”
“Yes, yes,” Tony says, “But what about players for now ?”
“That’s what trades and free agent signings are for,” Steve says. “You - you’re not going to turn this team around in just one year.”
“Where’s your optimism?” Tony asks, but he doesn’t seem angry. “Fine. There’s one more thing we need to talk about before I leave you to Ms. Potts. Your d-partner.”
Steve hasn’t had a steady partner in two years. Their previous coach rotated the baby d-men so they all got to play with Steve and benefit from his experience and so he could help mitigate the mistakes they made. And while that’s good for training new d-men, and Steve will do whatever his coach asks - it’s not exactly good for their team.
Steve not having a steady partner means communication breakdowns, and it means that it was usually him and a rookie against the other team’s top line, and he can’t cover both his zone and his partner’s. The thought of having a real partner again; well, he’s excited.
“I’m working out the details on a trade for Sam Wilson,” Tony says, casual, like this isn’t a fucking bombshell.
Sam Wilson and Riley Wilcox were the best d-pairing in maybe even the history of the NHL before Wilcox’s career ending knee injury. Wilson hasn’t played the same since losing him, and every year rumors float around that he’s going to retire early, but he hasn’t yet.
Steve thinks of himself as a pretty good defenseman but having to fill the shoes of Riley Wilcox? That’s a lot to ask.
“He wants to play with you,” Tony says. “He says he was thinking about getting out, but if anyone’s worth sticking in the NHL for it’s you.” Tony makes a face. “If you two work out as a pairing, I’m totally making a Lifetime movie about it.”
“And that’s my cue,” Pepper says. “Mr. Stark, you should go work on your new skate design while I discuss with Mr. Rogers how he should answer the media’s questions in regards to all of your plans.”
Steve can see the delight on Stark’s face, can only predict the number of things he’s got to say about ‘Mr. Rogers’ and he cuts them off by saying, “Just Steve is fine, Ms. Potts.”
“Pepper,” she tells him. “We’re going to be working a lot together this season. Lucky for me, you not only have media training, but you actually follow it.”
She gives Stark a pointed look.
He mumbles something about preventing foot bruises and heads down the hallway.
“Now,” Pepper says once it’s just the two of them. “Language is incredibly important, especially the language you’re going to use to talk about the first woman in the NHL.”
Steve knocks on the table again and flushes when Pepper arches her eyebrows. “She hasn’t signed yet.”
“Right,” Pepper says. “Anyways, everyone’s going to want to catch you saying the wrong thing or saying something they can twist into a headline. Here’s what I want you to say…”
~*~
Steve’s sitting a long table that only highlights how he’s the only person sitting at it, and smiles even through the camera flashes as he holds his first press conference as captain of the Brooklyn Avengers. There’s an empty chair to his left with a placard that reads Tony Stark , and Steve doesn’t know why Stark isn’t here, but he thinks it might be better that he’s not.
Because when the first sports writer asks, “Tony Stark is known for being flighty. How long until he grows bored of being an NHL owner?” Steve’s the only one there to answer, and his ego isn’t bruised by the question.
“Tony Stark has always been interested in hockey,” Steve answers. “When he took over Stark Industries, one of the first things he did was add hockey to the sports equipment his company designs and manufactures.”
“Why now?”
“I don’t know,” Steve answers truthfully. “That’s something you’ll have to ask Mr. Stark, but I’m grateful he chose to take interest now. He’s clearly planned a big shake-up of the team, and that’s always tough, but I think it’s the wake-up call we need. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we haven’t been playing so hot recently.”
Steve laughs, self-deprecating, and looks out at the crowd to see who ducks their head. Some of his most vicious critics are in this room, and even the writers who want to have faith in the team they write for have written a few articles about the team’s struggles and if there’s a way to get back on track without a complete rebuild.
“What kind of shake-ups can we expect?” Christine Everhart asks.
“You’ll have to wait for Mr. Stark’s announcements on those,” Steve says. “Nothing is certain until the contracts are signed.”
She looks disappointed, but Steve hasn’t slipped up in all his years of doing press, and he has no intention of starting now.
“Speaking of contracts,” a young woman in the second row says. “Is it true that Natalia Romanova signed with the Avengers?”
The woman - Skye - runs one of Steve’s favorite blogs. He knows a lot of the reporters look down on the bloggers, but Steve likes them. They care enough about their sport or their team enough to spend their free time talking about them. It doesn’t get much cooler than that.
“She did,” Steve says. “She’s the first signing made under Mr. Stark’s ownership.”
“Do you think having a woman in the locker room will be distracting?” a man in the back asks.
Skye and Ms. Everhart both scowl and then give Steve a look that says you better get this question right .
“No,” Steve says then looks over at Luke Cage. “Your question?”
He looks surprised to be called on or maybe surprised that Steve didn’t have a longer answer and he fumbles with his phone for a moment before he says, “You played with Romanova during the lockout. Did you tell Mr. Stark you wanted her on the team?”
“I don’t think you understand the relationship between players and owners,” Steve says with a small laugh. A few of the reporters laugh with him. “I don’t tell Mr. Stark to do anything. But you’re right, I did play with Natalia during the lockout, and if you saw any of the press I did over there, I was quite vocal about her skill level. I’m glad she’s signed with our team, I think she’ll be a good fit.”
“On and off the ice?” someone mutters.
Steve pretends he didn’t hear.
“Will Romanova continue to play wing?” Everhart asks.
“That’s a decision the coaching staff will make,” Steve says.
“We heard there were changes there too,” someone says.
“Yes. Coach Phil Coulson has joined our staff,” Steve says. “I’m looking forward to seeing what system he puts in place for the team.”
“He’s very traditional,” the reporter follows up. “How do you think that’ll fit with Stark’s...eccentric behavior?”
“I think that’s a question for Mr. Stark,” Steve says. He looks back at where Pepper’s standing off to the side.
“Last question,” she says and everyone starts shouting at once.