Who needs Myspace when you&#39;ve punched Hitler?

"I'm Sarah," Sarah said. She didn't volunteer any extra information, because it was...complicated. "Who are you?"

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"I'm Tony." Stark. "One of his students."

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Right. He taught high school in this parallel. "You look familiar," Sarah said, almost accusingly. She still hadn't let him in the apartment.

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Damn it, why did everyone know him? Other than the whole billionaire playboy thing. "You--look like him when he was a girl," he countered. Helpfully.

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Sarah blinked a couple of times, then shifted her stance a little, slightly dangerous, and said, "That's about right."

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This got awkward fast!

Tony cleared his throat. "So, is he around?"

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Sarah let him squirm for a moment before saying, "He's in the shower." Another moment before she opened the door further and allowed, "You can come in, I guess."

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"Oh thank god. There are kids showing up to call me dad, like, everywhere." A beat. "But you knew that, didn't you."

Hello, Mr. Roger's random kid. Maybe with that blonde lady he made sad eyes at in D.C.

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No, that whole thing was too depressing. "How would I know that?" Sarah asked. Aside from the part where she was here. "...point taken." She heard a noise and turned toward the bedroom to tell Steve, "Tony's here."

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"...I see that," Steve said as he came out of the bedroom, smoothing his t-shirt down. "Hey, Tony. I was just going to fix Sarah some breakfast. You want some eggs? Do you have anyone else with you who needs to be fed?" Maybe some random children of your own?

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"I don't think any of them followed me here." A beat. "They were in my lab."

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"So you just left them there? And you're not going to feed them breakfast?" Steve was disappointed, Tony.

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"They're my age!" Which meant they were independent ages ago if they were anything like him. "And insulted all my tech."

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"Maybe your tech deserved it," Sarah suggested, so neutral it was impossible to tell if she was joking or not.

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"Sarah!" Steve scolded, and then he told Tony, "Being your age doesn't mean they don't need breakfast. Or to be abandoned by their father."

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Sarah, you just kicked a puppy. KICKED A PUPPY. "They had--other parents!"

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Well, maybe it did! "Are you sure they had other parents?" Sarah asked. "Some of us don't, you know." Then she looked vaguely embarrassed at having let that slip, and Steve shot her a concerned look.

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"Yes! They were there too." Being awkward about this as well. "I'm never going to prom again."

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"That won't help," Steve told him, with the voice of long experience. "They show up regardless. And one year it wasn't even after prom. Now, how do you want your eggs?" he asked, heading for the kitchen and relying on the teenagers to follow him. Sarah, he noted, had washed her bowl and spoon and put them in the drying rack.

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"I had coffee." And so had his kids. Because he was an excellent father.

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"Coffee isn't breakfast," Sarah pointed out. "He sounds like Mr. Stark," she told Steve.

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"...yes, well," Steve said. "But she's right, Tony. How do you want your eggs?" he asked, looking up from digging through the refrigerator. He pointed at Sarah with a package of bacon and said, "And you, too." He knew what his calorie requirements were, and in an adolescent? A bowl of cereal wasn't going to cut it.

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Tony cleared his throat at that. "Um. Cooked? I usually have something microwaved."

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Sarah rolled her eyes in disbelief--in some ways she was very much a teenager--and told Steve, "Scrambled is fine."

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