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Chapter Text

Part 7

Somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean, January 1944

Tony could never remember later exactly what happened.

He had vague flashes of War Machine, and flame, and pain, and crashing waves spinning up to meet him. He remembered Jarvis' worried face, and Rhodey pounding him on the chest, yelling at him to breathe, goddammit! He remembered the searing pain of his repulsor pump charging from zero, forcing a heart that had given up the battle to keep going to start functioning again after all.

When he finally came back to himself, he was lying in the Armor bay, still hooked up to the charger. He gasped, staring around him with wild eyes as his mind tried to connect the severed threads of his last memories with his current setting. "Steve! Bucky--"

Jarvis turned away and Rhodey only looked at him, eyes filled with sorrow. He forced himself upright, the pain constricting his chest this time having nothing to do with his physical heart. "Dammit, Rhodey! Tell me."

"Steve's hurt, but he'll be fine," Jarvis broke in, pressing his hand against Tony's shoulder. Tony stared at him, heart racing. "Bruises and cuts, mostly, from the explosion and War Machine catching him. Bucky..." Jarvis' voice trailed off and Tony's hand came up to tangle in Jarvis' shirt.

"He's not dead, Jarvis. He can't be dead, he can't be!" The words tumbled out of him, half-demanding and half-begging. Rhodey's hand on his other shoulder made him jerk and turn to look up at his best friend, desperation in his eyes. After all this, everything he'd worked on, everything he'd tried to do...

Rhodey's fingers tightened on his shoulder. "Bucky's... alive." Tony drew in a deep, gasping breath before his friend's somber expression penetrated his haze. Jim hesitated, then said, his voice low, "I’m so sorry, Tony. I tried, but he was too close when the rocket went up – we think a piece of it hit him. He lost an arm. It's looking pretty bad."

"We're on our way to New York," Jarvis added. "I've got him stabilized in the med bay, but the best surgeons are in New York. At top speed, we'll be there in the morning."

"...Good. He deserves the best," Tony finally said, dropping his gaze to the floor. He didn't ask where Steve was. He knew.

***

Once he could stand, Tony staggered down the hall of the airship, stubbornly refusing Rhodey's help. He paused for a long moment outside the med bay door before pushing it open. Once inside, Tony found that he had no words. All he could do was sit silently in the high-backed wooden chair against the wall of the sickbay, watching Steve. Steve's face was pale and he seemed unaware of the tears sliding silently down his cheeks as he sat on a matching wooden chair, scooted up to the edge of the bed that Bucky lay on. He grasped Bucky's hand firmly between his own.

Tony never knew how long he sat there, watching Steve watch Bucky, occasionally whispering things to him that Tony couldn't make out. He might have dozed off, his own body screaming at him for rest. His bruises could wait, though. Bucky was the first priority. After some indeterminable length of time, Steve finally broke his silence.

"You knew." The words sounded like they hurt, coming from a dry and cracked throat. They were nothing compared to the pain in the tear-filled blue eyes that turned to pierce Tony like a dagger. Tony was too tired to try to deny it. Whatever showed in his eyes, on his face, answered Steve's statement, his quiet accusation, and Steve's eyes narrowed. "You knew. Dammit, Tony, you knew this would happen and you didn't say anything, you didn't do anything! You could have--"

"Gentlemen." Jarvis' crisp voice cut through Steve's increasingly loud words and they both turned to look at him. He looked worn down -- old, Tony thought, for the first time -- but his back was ramrod straight as he crossed the room to stop at Bucky's bedside and check on him. "We'll be arriving in New York in four hours. He'll stay sedated until we can get him to the hospital for surgery. Until then, might I suggest that you continue your -- discussion," and the finely-calculated pause that conveyed Jarvis' utter anger at the pair of them brought a flush to both Tony and Steve's faces, "outside of this room. Mr. Barnes needs his rest, not to be subjected to the two of you squabbling at each other like school children."

Steve reluctantly let go of Bucky's hand, placing it down on the bed with a gentle pat, then turned and stalked out of the room without even looking at Tony again. Tony watched him go, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to be able to fix this. He didn't notice Jarvis watching him with sympathy in his eyes until he finally stood, groaning as his aching body registered a growing series of complaints at the movement.

"You did everything you could, Tony," Jarvis said softly. Tony looked away, his shoulders slumping as he took in the sight of Bucky, looking small and vulnerable on the bed, his face pale from shock and blood loss. The heavily-wrapped stump of his shoulder was jarring and Tony blinked hard as he turned toward the door.

"It wasn't enough." His words were quiet, toneless, and fell into the room with grieving finality. Jarvis didn't respond, and Tony trudged out the door, following Steve down the hallway into the meeting room.

Steve was standing in front of the wide window that took up the majority of the outer wall of the room, hands clasped behind his back and his feet spread, resting his weight in the military at-rest position. Only the stoniness of his face belied his seemingly calm posture. Tony stopped just inside the doorway, taking in the sight. Cap's uniform was scorched and burnt, his leather pants blackened and his gloves, tucked into his belt, were cracked and brittle. The uniform top was torn and Steve's face was still grimy with sweat-streaked exhaust burns. The black streaks even continued into his hair, turning the normally light blond into grimy, streaked grey. Tony knew that he didn't look much better, although the Armor had largely protected him from taking any actual burns.

"We're lucky to be alive," he observed neutrally, not moving from his stance at the doorway. He could see Steve's shoulders tighten, although he didn't turn to look at him.

"Alive, if not whole," Steve said coldly. Tony winced.

"Would you rather that he was dead?" he demanded, his voice filling with frustration and anger and pain. "He nearly died, Steve. That was why I didn't want him there in the first place -- why I didn't want any of us going on this damned mission."

Steve whirled around, all semblance of calm gone. Fury flashed in his eyes and he took a step forward before halting. "Of course not, Tony. I'm grateful beyond measure that Bucky's alive. But god damn it -- you knew about this mission, you knew what would happen, and you didn't do anything. You knew, and he still got hurt!"

"That's bullshit and you know it," Tony retorted, his voice tight. "I knew what could happen, that this was probably the same mission that Cap and Bucky were lost on in that other world, but that other me wasn't around in World War II. He read all the reports, heard the stories from his Captain America, but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't be sure that things would happen the same damned way, since so much is different between there and here. My presence alone, versus the team that Cap worked with over there, makes things completely different. I did everything I possibly could, Steve. Everything." His voice cracked and all he could picture was Bucky, screaming as the rocket exploded, his arm being torn off by the metal shrapnel shredding through him, blood everywhere. He sagged, leaning back against the door frame for support, and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in an effort to get the image out of his mind. "I tried... so hard. And it still wasn't enough." His last words came out in a whisper.

Silence rose between them, tense and hard, and Tony couldn't stand it anymore. "Steve..." His voice was strained. "I promised him."

"What?" He could hear the frown in the other man's voice, could almost see the furrowed brows staring at him confusion.

"I promised him. Me. The other-me. I promised him that I would take care of you."

"I remember that. Why--"

"Because... because I need you to know. At first, I wanted to get to know you because of that promise. And because half of my memories told me that Steve Rogers was my best friend, and I wanted that to be true. That other Tony... he and his Steve, they have so much together, years of history and friendship..."

"And love." The sharp words made Tony look up again finally and he wasn't surprised to see mingled pain and anger on Steve's face.

"And love," he agreed. "But not -- not like that."

"I know." This time Tony really looked at Steve and felt like a heel.

"I thought--" he started, and Steve shook his head, sinking into one of the chairs at the table.

"He told me." Steve paused and Tony stared. They had never talked about the other-Tony, except in passing, and he had never asked Steve what exactly had happened between them. He had been able to pick up on some of it, enough to know that although Steve had loved the other Tony, they hadn't ever done anything more than kiss and that, apparently, rarely. From what he had witnessed the day the other Tony left his world, that Tony had loved this Steve as well and that more than anything else made Tony wonder; having a Steve who loved him, how had that other Tony managed to resist the temptation to take things further? Steve met his wide eyes and laughed, a harsh, unamused sound. "The night of Rebirth, Tony – the other Tony – came looking for me. From what he said, I knew... I knew that there was more going on than what he had told me. And he... he fell apart. He told me about the other world, and you, and his Steve... and that he loved him."

Tony winced and allowed himself to slump down to the floor, still leaning back against the door frame. God, that sounded like a horribly bastard thing to do, even for him. Steve must have caught the look on his face, because he added, "And that he loved me." This time the pain echoed in his words and Tony knew that Steve was reliving that moment.

"What... what did you do?" he asked quietly. Steve shrugged.

"I kissed him." Tony couldn't help it; he started to laugh. Short, quiet, exhausted bursts of noise that made Steve look down at him in worry before his own lips started to curve. "It seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the time."

"I'm sure he didn't mind," Tony answered, his breath still hitching with laughter.

"No. He didn't." Steve sighed. "Although he didn't really like it when I told him after that that he couldn't stay." He shrugged at Tony's unspoken question as their eyes met again. "He wasn't happy here, and I didn't want him to be miserable just so he could be with me."

Tony's breath caught. Steve had no idea, none at all, of the depth of that other Tony's love. Not that he himself knew how the other Tony had felt about this world's Steve Rogers, but knowing how he felt about his own Steve, he suspected that it had taken about five seconds for his other-worldly duplicate to fall head over heels in love with this world's Steve Rogers after he met him. And that meant that it would have absolutely broken his heart to walk away from him, which Tony had long suspected to be the case just from the expression on the man's face as he and his Steve had left them, those years ago.

"Tony. You said... you said that those memories were why you wanted to get to know me?" Steve questioned, his own exhaustion obvious in his voice. Tony shrugged and nodded. They'd talked about this before, but rehashing old ground was better than Steve ignoring him altogether. Whatever reassurance Steve needed, Tony was more than willing to provide.

"Originally, yeah. I keep my promises." Steve nodded silently. "And... I was so jealous of that friendship. I never... I never had anything like that, and even just the taste of it that I had there, even with that other Steve trying so hard to ignore me..." He let out a long breath. "I wanted that for myself. And it was so horribly awkward once they were gone, and you were so hurt, and I didn't even know if it would be worth it for me to try to get to know you, with what had apparently happened between the two of you."

"Nothing ever did happen, you know." Steve's voice was quiet but matter of fact, so that it took Tony a moment to process the words. Then he blinked hard and looked up at Steve again. There was a hint of pink across Steve's cheeks, but he continued, "Besides a few kisses. I... I loved him. But I just couldn't do anything. I mean, between the Army and being Captain America, and the threat of war... well..." He cleared his throat before continuing awkwardly, "I was raised to think that that sort of thing just didn't happen, you know? Two men loving each other... it was wrong. By the time I realized how I felt about Tony, I knew that couldn't be right, but it wasn't something I could just ignore, and the time was so... busy, and... well."

Tony contemplated the exhausted, embarrassed man before him for a moment. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" Steve flushed scarlet and the wave of embarrassed silence gave Tony his answer.

"Damn it, Steve," he sighed with no anger in his voice. "You have no idea how hard you are to resist, do you?"

"Wh... what?" Steve stammered in reply. Tony's lips quirked.

"You are one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen, and yes, I'm including the other-me's memories in that statement. You're brave and honest and trustworthy and fearless and absolutely handsome. And over the last three years, you have been driving me insane."

Part of Tony wondered what the hell he was doing, babbling this all out to the man he had spent the last three years lusting over. Knowing that the man was a complete virgin had only added that much more to everything else that made the man nearly irresistible. Five minutes ago Steve had been ready to punch him through a wall over the state Bucky was in, and now he could feel the rising tension between them crawling beneath his skin, setting his nerve endings tingling and waking up parts of his body that twenty minutes ago he would have sworn were too exhausted to show life for the next week.

"I promised the other me that I would take care of you, and I badgered the hell out of Fury for a year so that I could be in a position to do that. When you met Bucky, part of me was happy because you finally had someone at your back, and part of me was horrified because I knew what happened to that other Bucky."

"He died." Steve's voice was flat again. Tony shook his head.

"No, although I'm pretty sure that he would have been happier that way, at least later on. He got found by the Soviets and trained as an assassin." He watched the horror bloom across Steve's face and wondered if Bucky's losing an arm would finally start seeming like at least a better option than that. "The other Steve rescued him, years and years later. It's... long and weird and complicated. But it all started with that damned rocket that Zemo built."

"Just like here."

"Just like here," Tony confirmed. "You should have seen the temper tantrum I threw back at the lab, the night that Fury gave us those orders. Jarvis damned near had to hold me down to keep from breaking everything."

"So you knew, the whole time, what this mission could be. For me and for Bucky." Steve's voice was calmer this time, but the words were tight and Tony sighed, his head falling forward to rest on his crossed arms.

"I knew what it could be, but not what it was. All I could do, all this time, was hope that I'd done enough, changed enough, that it wouldn't happen, and when it did... I tried so damned hard to keep it from happening the same way. From what the other Steve said, though, it was damned similar, with you and Bucky charging up to that damned rocket and jumping on, and then it exploding..." He stopped, shuddering. "I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't have saved you, Steve." His voice was raw, emotions bleeding through, and he didn’t care anymore.

"You... you..." Steve seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I'm being honest," Tony supplied. "Enjoy this while it lasts, because I think I'm too damned punch-drunk and high on adrenaline to not say things." He looked up again, wry amusement in his eyes as he watched Steve gape before closing his mouth with a snap, a sudden thoughtful expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Tony." Steve met his eyes and Tony could read the shadows, the guilt there. "I knew you did everything you could, and even knowing that you knew about the rocket... there was no way you could have kept us from going in there." Steve's voice grew thoughtful, almost contemplative, and Tony wondered what the man was thinking. The apology wasn't entirely unexpected, but its sincerity -- and timing -- was surprising. "You saved Bucky's life by being there. Without you, he would have died."

"So would you," Tony said without lifting his head, watching Steve from his sideways angle. Steve's lips pursed, then he nodded.

"Probably, yes. I'm sorry I accused you of not caring. I know that's not true."

"Damned straight," Tony interjected. Steve's eyebrows raised.

"You do care," he said carefully. Tony nodded. He was so tired... too damned tired to deny anything. "Tony... how much do you care?"

"You're my best friend." Tony phrased his answer carefully, not wanting to push Steve away, not now. They were both in a tired, hazy, post-adrenaline crash and he felt oddly vulnerable. He could only imagine that Steve felt similarly.

"And you're mine. But that wasn't what I meant, and you know it," Steve said reproachfully. "You said I've spent three years driving you crazy. How... what did you mean by that?" Even as Tony wanted to protest the questions, tell Steve that after everything that had happened he should damned well know, he realized that the look on Steve’s face meant that Steve knew quite well what Tony had meant. Tony's stomach tightened. This was it, then -- the moment of truth. Not the time or place he would have chosen, if it were left up to him, but Steve had taken it quite neatly out of his hands. Finally, Tony shrugged.

"I mean that you have provided fodder for every fantasy I've ever had: I've thought about killing you more times than I can count, but... I've thought about other things, too." From Steve's stare, that wasn't enough of an answer, and Tony took a deep breath. "Fine. You want to know... here you go. I want you," Tony supplied helpfully. "In bed. Out of bed. As my partner, my lover, my friend."

"Tony... what are you..."

"I'm telling you that I have spent the last three years completely lusting over you and most of that time falling head over heels in love with you." Tony knew that after twelve hours of sleep he would be absolutely horrified at the words spilling from his mouth, but currently he couldn't seem to stop them. "And I know, absolutely, that what I'm feeling is my feelings and not half-remembered things from the other-Tony," he added before Steve could ask.

Steve pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, walking around the table to slide to his knees beside Tony on the floor. Tony held his breath, not able to tell what the other man was thinking as he stared at him, face serious. After a moment, Steve reached out, his hand gentle on Tony's shoulder as he urged Tony upright, until they were nearly face to face.

"Tell me." Steve's voice was soft, but Tony could hear the clear note of command underlying the words.

"I love you." The words were easier to say than he thought they would be. Steve's hand moved up to cup his cheek, his thumb brushing against Tony's lips. Tony shuddered, and Steve smiled.

"You know, the war isn't over," he said casually, and Tony's heart plummeted. They had both known something like this was coming, and they had both danced around it because of the war, because of their duties and responsibilities. But this, with what had just happened, he had hoped... Steve's fingers tightened slightly on Tony's face. "Don't do that, Tony. Stop reading things into what I say that aren't there."

Licking dry lips, Tony said, his voice almost steady, "Then tell me what you mean."

"The war isn't over," Steve repeated, but this time Tony could hear the underlying longing beneath it. "But I think for now, for us, it is. We'll be out of the field while Bucky recovers, and I think... I think I'd really like to spend that time with you."

Tony stared at Steve, hardly daring to breathe as he searched his friend's face, hunting desperately for confirmation of what he had just heard. Steve's eyes crinkled a little around the edges as he smiled, and Tony drew in a long, shuddering breath. His entire body ached, he was beyond exhausted, and even with Steve's forgiveness, the guilt at knowing that Bucky was lying in the med bay horribly injured, barely saved from death even through his best attempts, hovered on the edge of his mind, waiting for its chance to start worrying away at him. He knew he would have nightmares of that moment over and over again, similar to that other world's Steve... but his nightmares would involve losing two of the people he cared most about.

"Tony." As Steve's voice penetrated his hazy thoughts, Tony became aware that Steve had been speaking to him for a few minutes and was now clasping his shoulder tightly, his voice tight with worry but deliberately soft. Of course, Tony thought. Steve knows better than to shake someone who's in shock to get their attention. He blinked, very slowly, then reached up and covered Steve's hand with his own.

"I'm here." The words were a promise, and he could see the relief in Steve's eyes. He wondered what Steve had been saying; he had the feeling it had been something important, but the exhaustion pushing through him wouldn't let him focus enough to follow that thought. "I'm... I think I need to lay down." Steve nodded briskly and stood up, helping Tony to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist for support. Tony sagged against him, feeling incredibly guilty for leaning on Steve when Steve had been just as involved, just as injured, as he was.

"Shush, Tony. I'm fine." Tony frowned up at him and Steve shook his head. "You really are tired if you didn't even know that you were talking. You're hurt and you're tired, and so am I, but I recover faster than you do. Let's get you to bed."

"Yes, please," Tony said fervently before he could catch himself. Steve pinkened and shook his head reprovingly, although a hint of a smile lingered on his lips.

"You never change."

"You wouldn't want me any other way," Tony countered with a smirk. It probably looked more like a grimace, but at least he had tried. Steve paused at the doorway, meeting his eyes steadily.

"That's true."

Before Tony could find the words to answer the teasing challenge in those words, Steve had nudged the door open and was heading down the hallway.

"We should tell--" Tony started to protest, knowing that Steve was about to put him to bed and wouldn't let him up again until they had arrived in New York, if then. Steve shook his head.

"No. Jarvis will figure it out. You're going to bed, and you're going to stay there if I have to hold you down," he said firmly. As they turned the corner to the hallway in front of Tony's bedroom, Tony pondered that thought. As Steve pushed open the bedroom door, he looked up at him, flashing his eyelashes coyly.

"Promise?"

At Steve's outraged expression, Tony burst into laughter, great heaving roars of amusement that he couldn't seem to stop. Through the tears gathering in his eyes, he could make out concern and patient understanding written on Steve's face as the other man maneuvered them towards the bed. He stumbled as his knees hit the mattress, which made him laugh harder. Then Steve's arms were around him and the tears took over, his laughter turning to heaving sobs, harsh and shaking, that left his whole body tired and sore. Throughout it all, Steve held him securely, his hand rubbing comforting patterns on Tony's back even as he talked softly. At some point, Tony slipped into unconsciousness, where his guilt and his fear couldn't chase him anymore.

------

Opening his eyes, Tony stared at the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the wooden beams in his mind for some unknown length of time, letting the world creep back into his awareness as slowly as possible. He was in his bed in the zeppelin. Depending on what time it was, they might even have arrived in New York, but Jarvis wouldn't have woken him up if he were exhausted enough to pass out, especially in the middle of... Damn.

He made a face as he remembered falling to pieces on Steve's shoulder. To be honest, he would be more worried if he hadn't shown signs of shock, but there was more than a trace of humiliation present in having lost it so thoroughly in front of someone else, even if that someone else was Captain America, who had doubtless seen worse. Well, it was over and done, so no use worrying about it now. He did feel better, so between the emotional outlet and the sleep, he had started to recover.

His mind flashed to an image of Bucky, small and still in the med bay, and he sucked in a sharp breath, the guilt hitting him harder now that he didn't have the protective comfort of shock to blanket him from its effects. He didn't regret not sharing the other-him's knowledge of the mission, because his logic had been good; he did regret that he hadn't been able to do enough to make it turn out differently... make it turn out better.

A grimace crossed his face when he shifted and his body abruptly woke up, telling him in hundreds of aches and bruises and in no uncertain terms just how very abused it felt and how unhappy it was about the situation. He groaned softly, then froze as he felt the bed shift beside him. Slowly, he became aware of the warmth of another body pressed close against his, the weight of an arm across his chest, the soft breeze from another person's breath against his neck. Turning his head carefully in order to avoid aggravating any of his lingering injuries, Tony saw Steve lying beside him, eyelashes a light shimmer against his cheeks, a strangely peaceful expression on his face.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, watching Steve sleep, relishing the feel of Steve's body against his own, before Steve's eyes opened, brilliant blue meeting his gaze.

"G'mornin'," Steve half-whispered, his voice husky with sleep. A shudder passed through Tony's body at the sound of it and part of his body alerted him that it wasn't so tired and sore as to be unresponsive to that. He bit his lip, trying to restrain himself from following through on any of the thousand impulses that were currently running through his mind, and Steve's lips curved.

"Thought about this a thousand times," he confessed softly, and Tony stared, too aware of the sudden, urgent need coursing through his body to have any words ready to respond. Steve shifted, turning so that the entire length of body pressed against Tony's and Tony shuddered again at the feel of the hot, hard length of him nudging against his hip. Steve's smile widened and he repeated the movement, rubbing deliberately against Tony, his lips parting to let out a soft moan. Tony swallowed back the noise that wanted to escape and reached down, grabbing Steve's hip in order to stop the movement.

"Steve... stop," he whispered, his own voice hoarse. Steve frowned.

"Why? Thought... thought you wanted me," he protested. From the drowsy tone of his voice, Tony wasn't entirely sure he knew he was awake. The super soldier serum did wonders, but with the injuries Steve had received... dammit, maybe Steve was in shock. Or concussed. Or worse. Suddenly wide awake, Tony tightened his grip, intending to sit up and throw back the blankets so that he could check Steve over. The weight of Steve's body covering his in one abrupt movement put a stop to that intention and Tony bit his lip as he tried not to react, instead meeting Steve's half-lidded gaze with his own sharp, worried stare.

"Steve, stop," he said again, intending it to be a sharp protest. The words slipped out almost in a whine, and Steve shook his head, moving his hips in a long, slow glide that left Tony breathless, his body demanding to know why he was fighting against the very thing he had spent three years fantasizing about.

"Steve!" he growled, frustrated at his own inability to control himself, and the note penetrated Steve's haze. Tony whined at the loss of friction, but he tried to pull himself together, pushing against Steve's chest until the other man sat back, allowing Tony to sit up. Tony ran a hand through his hair, scooting back to lean against the headboard as he stared at his friend, trying to quiet his racing heart and urgent need.

"Steve, we can't... I can't just..." He ground to a stop and uttered a frustrated noise at his own confused protest.

"What if I want us to, Tony?" Steve asked softly. Tony stared at him. His hair was rumpled, longer than regulation, long enough for a small lock to fall across his forehead. Tony wanted to run his fingers through the blond hair, smooth it down, grasp it as he kissed Steve breathless... Carefully, he drew in a deep breath.

"This is... god, Steve, this is such a... a bad time," he finally said, knowing that it wounded weak. Steve frowned, drawing away slightly, and Tony immediately wished he could take back the words. "I just... I mean... we're both exhausted, and hurt, and Bucky's hurt, and I don't even know if you know what you're doing--"

The press of Steve's mouth against his cut off his words. They had never kissed before. Tony had always thought that Steve would feel like that other Steve had, soft and warm and addicting as hell. He was right, but he was so, so wrong. This kiss had nothing soft about it. It was all heat and want and clashing tongues and teeth and need, and if he'd thought that he was desperate for Steve's touch before, it was nothing to how badly he wanted him when they finally broke apart, both of them gasping for breath.

"I may not have your experience," Steve said harshly, "but I know what I want. I want you, Tony. So much... I can't even..." Apparently giving up on his struggle for words, he reached out and grasped the back of Tony's neck, drawing him back close again. His tongue traced over Tony's lips with a teasing touch, awkward from inexperience but leaving no doubt in Tony's mind that Steve meant what he had said. Parting his lips, Tony leaned forward, his tongue darting out to lick against Steve's. Steve shuddered, and Tony licked his way into his mouth, learning the taste and feel of him with urgent thrusts of his tongue. His hand tangled in Steve's short hair before sliding down to his neck, blunt nails scratching softly at the tender skin there. Steve moaned into his mouth and Tony growled back as he felt Steve's body moving in short, frantic motions, rubbing against him.

A sharp rapping at the door penetrated the lust fogging Tony's mind and he pulled back, Steve whining against him, casting a look at the door.

Which, he saw with absolute clarity, wasn't locked.

He had the faintest memory of Steve half-carrying him into the room earlier, right before he had dissolved into near-hysterics on him... and of course neither of them had thought once about locking the door. Damn it. He ran a hand over his hair, conscious that there was no way to disguise the state he was in -- that they were both in -- and very much aware that no matter how Steve felt about things right now, he would be embarrassed beyond belief if someone were to walk in on them.

"No -- don't go--" Steve whispered, and Tony cursed the world at that moment, wanting nothing more than to stay exactly where he was and spend the rest of the day in bed with the gorgeous man begging him to do just that. Instead, he disentangled himself, wondering what it would take to get Steve into this gloriously un-self-conscious state in the future. Standing up, he reached down to adjust himself, biting back a groan at his own touch and wishing that he didn't favor such well-tailored trousers.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I have to find out what they want," he said quietly, and Steve frowned up at him before his expression cleared. With a touch of sadness, Tony watched as Steve came back to himself, glancing around the room, the bed, their matching wrinkled clothing, and flushed brilliant red.

"I--"

Tony smiled a little and leaned down, pressing a kiss -- just the one, a quick one, he told himself -- to the corner of Steve's mouth before pulling away again regretfully. "You should stay right there. Well... in bed, anyway," he corrected himself as another sharp rapping sounded from the door.

Pressing gently against Steve's shoulder, he got the other man to lay down again, pulling the covers up over him, then gave up all hope of straightening his own clothing once he glanced at himself in the mirror. He couldn't do anything about the flush or his swollen lips -- or other areas -- but he didn't much care, either, as he crossed the small room to the door, swinging it open but standing in the doorway to block as much of the room from view as possible.

"I'm right here, Jarv--" The words stuck in his throat and he blinked, wishing that he actually had time to take a shower -- a very, very cold shower -- because although he had known it was Jarvis knocking from the distinctive rapping, he hadn't been expecting anyone else to be standing there. Especially not one General Nicholas Fury. Damn.

He barely prevented himself from glancing behind him to make sure that Steve couldn't be seen from the doorway. If he couldn't, there was no need to draw Fury's attention to him, and if he could... well. Two men falling asleep in one bed, fully clothed, after they'd barely survived a horrific battle, was nothing unheard of. His own state... well... if nothing else, he could blame it on a very good dream he'd been having before having the misfortune of being awoken by Jarvis' knocking and finding himself next to Steve Rogers rather than Betty Grable. His preference would be to avoid the topic altogether.

"Sorry, sir," Jarvis said dryly, the raised eyebrow as he took in Tony's appearance telling him that his old friend hadn't missed a single detail and knew exactly what he had just interrupted. "We arrived in New York a short time ago, but General Fury insisted on seeing you immediately."

Tony caught the unspoken message that Bucky was already at the hospital and nodded in acknowledgement, noting that Jarvis didn't bother hiding the note of anger in his voice. He wondered just what strings Fury had pulled to get on board his airship and get Jarvis to pull him out of his own bedroom.

"That's fine, Jarvis. Just so long as the general realizes that I'm not exactly at my best at the moment." Tony turned his gaze on Fury, who met it expressionlessly. With a shrug, he stepped out into the hallway, swinging the door closed behind him as he moved. If Fury saw Steve in his bed... no matter what the circumstances or how good the reasons, or even how innocent the situation may be -- not that this one was – Fury would have something to hold over both of their heads, even if he never said a word about it directly. That was something Tony absolutely was not willing to risk.

"I realize this isn't the best time, Stark," Fury said, and Tony barely kept back the snort at the words. "But I need to know exactly what happened down there as soon as possible. The lieutenant on the ground already gave me his report, but I need to have something to show the President. The other Allies are already complaining about our high-handedness in sending in a special strike team." Fury shook his head, his eyes glittering with frustration. "They're calling you guys the "Invaders," only they're not joking this time. Tell me that you didn't just blow everything to hell without getting some sort of proof of what you found down there."

Leaning against the doorframe, Tony rolled his eyes. "The Invaders? That's rich." Stretching and yawning, he headed down the hallway, talking without looking back to see if Fury was following. "I don't have camera footage, if that's what you wanted. Pepper should have been able to get some photos from the airship, but otherwise, I can only give you some of the information the Armor recorded."

"Well, that's a start," Fury growled. Tony stopped and turned to face him, his face cold.

"If what I have isn't good enough, perhaps you can show them pictures of one of my partners having his fucking arm blown off by a missile that was set to take out our capital." His voice was even. "I'm sure we can pick up pieces of the missile, if Namor hasn't already done so. Pepper can coordinate with him to find out." He flicked his eyes to Jarvis, whose face wore a calm mask. The glitter of anger in his eyes was unmistakable to Tony, and Jarvis nodded at his unspoken question before heading for the control room. "Whatever information I have is yours. If that's not enough, it's your fucking problem. You already have the plans showing the missile and the fact that Zemo was aiming it at Washington."

Fury faced him unflinchingly, one hand at his hip. "Speaking of Zemo, did you kill him?"

"I don't know. I suspect not, since he wasn't there when the missile actually launched. Even if you found a body, it wouldn't mean anything, since we don't know who the current Zemo is." Fury nodded, and Tony ground his teeth together before turning sharply and heading for the meeting room.

***

At the doorway of the conference room, Tony froze in place, remembering vividly the conversation he and Steve had had in this same space only hours before. Remembering the kiss they had shared -- the kisses. Their first.

As he paused at the door, Jarvis approached again, his steps rapid. "Sir, Namor tells me that he's already picked up what debris he could find. Pepper is working on developing the photos she took yesterday and hopes to have them done later today."

He sank carefully into the chair at the head of the table, not bothering to hide his smirk at Fury's disgruntled expression when he did so. "Let's get this show on the road," Tony announced, leaning forward. "No, wait. Jarvis?" The older man stopped at the doorway, turning around to flash him an inquiring look. "How's Bucky?"

Jarvis' face softened. "He's out of initial surgery. The surgeon tells me that he's cleaned up the wound and it looks like it'll heal with minimal scarring, but that's really all they can do for him. Depending on how he recovers, there may be further surgeries required."

Tony let out a breath, relief washing through him. "But he'll live."

Jarvis nodded.

"Thank god," Tony muttered. "The arm, I can do something about. There's a new alloy I've been working with--"

General Fury cleared his throat pointedly. Tony sighed. "Let Steve know, please. I'm fairly sure he's awake by now." He managed to sound casual, and only someone who knew Jarvis as well as he did would have caught the amused glint in his eyes.

"I'm sure you're correct. He'll probably want to go see Bucky for himself, so I expect we'll be at the hospital whenever you're done."

"Thanks, Jarvis." A short nod and Jarvis headed out of the room. If Pepper's in the photo lab, Rhodey should be in the control room, Tony thought absently, manning the controls as they got ready to put the airship into a real dock for a while. Tony turned his attention back to Fury as the door closed. "So, Fury. What do you want to know?"

***

New York City, January 1944

Only as he watched the airship's ramp close again behind Fury did Tony allow himself to sag. His entire body felt like one big bruise, and he wanted nothing more than to go take a nice long soak in boiling hot water, followed by a lengthy, thorough massage. Instead, he checked with Rhodey about getting the airship safely stowed away in his private hangar and visited Pepper to see how the photos were coming. Both of them were grim but understanding and both of his friends made a point of telling him to call them the next day so they would know when to come see him and Steve.

The thought of being home with Steve was enough to keep him moving through a hot shower and a change into fresh clothing. He paused along the way to swallow some aspirin down with a shot of very expensive whiskey; he figured he had earned it, after dealing with Fury for the last god-knew-how-many hours. Maybe by the time he got to the hospital, he'd start to feel almost like a human being again.

By the time he reached the hospital, Tony was regretting his decision. The roads of New York, never friendly even at the best of times, had been hell on his bruised and aching body, and he managed to maintain his posture and composure through the lobby and into the private waiting room only out of years of ingrained habit. Once in the room, his own aches and pains vanished from his mind as he spied Jarvis and Steve sitting in the comfortable chairs against the wall… one of the benefits of a private waiting room, and one that he was glad Jarvis had opted for without waiting to ask him first. The Stark family had invested enough money in this city and this hospital specifically over the years that it was a privilege Tony could take advantage of without feeling one iota of guilt over.

"How is he?" Even though they were the only people in the room, his voice was automatically pitched in the low tone that people reserved for use in hospitals. Steve glanced up, surprised, and Tony frowned. If Steve were so absorbed in his own thoughts and worry that he had been surprised by Tony walking in... Jarvis' voice interrupted his thoughts before he could get too carried away.

"He's fine. Still sedated. He'll be awake in the morning, at the latest." Jarvis cast a measured look between the two of them and rose to his feet. "I'm going to head out, get some fresh air. I'll be back in a bit." He shut the door firmly behind him, and Tony caught the half-embarrassed, half-amused look on Steve's face.

"How are you?" he asked, eyeing the drawn look on Steve's face. Even the super soldier serum couldn't do anything about worry and frustration, let alone exhaustion, and Tony was fairly certain, given the way Steve had acted that morning, that he hadn't had enough sleep yet. Remembering exactly how Steve had woken up that morning forced Tony to remind himself pointedly that they were in a hospital, for god's sake, and that their partner was in a critical condition.

"Tired," came Steve's honest answer, and at Tony's frown, he smiled a little. "I'll get over it. How did your meeting with General Fury go? It lasted a long time." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Only because the military is a bunch of idiotic--" He cut off the words before Steve could frown at him. "As well as could be expected," he amended.

"You look tired."

"I am tired."

"Then sit down before you fall down."

Tony sat. He really was exhausted, even after sleeping for however many hours they had spent in his bed, but his body was most definitely not recovered or even started. The meeting with Fury had only served to exhaust him mentally all over again. The only high point of his day so far had been waking up with Steve beside him, and even that had been questionable, considering Steve's mental state at the time. Tipping his head back against the wall and letting his eyes drift shut, Tony let out a long breath, wincing only slightly as his ribs protested.

"I'm sorry."

The quiet words took a moment to penetrate the drowsiness of his thoughts, and then Tony's eyes were wide open as he twisted around to look at Steve, wondering if he had heard him correctly. Steve didn't look away, meeting his eyes directly... honestly.

"About earlier, I mean. When I... when I blamed you. For Bucky." Steve seemed to be searching for the right words and Tony let him, because he had no idea what to say in return. "I know you tried to keep things from happening like they did over... over there, in that other world. And you saved him, you saved his life. He would have died without you there, and so would I. I'm sorry I lost my temper. You didn't deserve that," Steve finished quietly. Tony stared at him for a long, silent moment before he finally squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

"Don't be. You didn't say anything that I wasn't already thinking," he said harshly. "I should have done more, done something, to keep him safer. To keep you safer. If I'd told you from the beginning about the rocket, about Zemo's plans, I could've--"

"You couldn't know," Steve interrupted, reaching over to place a hand on Tony's knee. Tony drew in a sharp breath at the contact but remained where he was. "Tony. Look at me." Steve's command voice, the one that brooked no refusal, Tony thought, and reluctantly opened his eyes, meeting a narrow-eyed glare. "You did everything you could. I was scared to death, and worried about Bucky, and still hopped up on adrenaline and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

Tony shook his head again, opened his mouth to protest, and caught the steely glint of determination deep in the azure eyes pinning him in place. He slumped back with a sigh. "I... fine. Apology accepted, although there's no need for it." Almost unwillingly, he thought back to earlier that day, to meeting those eyes at an even closer range, and had to take another deep breath to try to regain control over himself. The hand on his knee tightened, and then there was a matching grip on his other leg and he was almost face to face with Steve as the soldier sank to his knees between Tony's legs, leaning into him.

"I'm sorry about earlier, too," Steve said quietly, and Tony's heart dropped into his stomach like a stone. Dammit, dammit, dammit, he wanted to shout. It wasn't fair. After all this time, everything they had been through together, and Steve still felt like he couldn't do anything, couldn't even kiss Tony without apologizing for it? Of course, they had done more that morning than just kiss, part of Tony's mind reminded him, and he wanted to curse all over again as he felt heat flood through him at the memory of Steve moving against him, his eyes almost black and his voice fogged with lust...

"Stop that," Steve said reproachfully, and Tony's eyes shot open -- when had he closed them? -- to see Steve watching him with an expression of mixed affection and amusement. "I'm not sorry about kissing you, Tony. Or about... anything else." Steve still blushed charmingly, Tony thought distractedly. "I'm just sorry that we were interrupted. I meant what I said."

"You..." Tony gaped at him for a moment, his thoughts blown away by the images that Steve's words brought forth in his mind. Steve's lips curled and his eyelids drooped, and Tony feared momentarily that all of the blood in his body had abruptly left his brain for regions further south at the unabashedly seductive expression on his friend's face.

"Meant it," Steve confirmed, his voice still soft but now rough around the edges, a husky note creeping into his words. "I've thought about waking up in bed with you hundreds of times. Thought about being in bed with you thousands of times. Thought about what I wanted to do. What I wanted you to do to me. What it would feel like to touch you, kiss you, taste you--"

Tony broke. He reached out, grasped Steve's waist, and drew the other man flush against him, groaning at the feel of it. One hand crept up his spine to the back of his head and he crushed his lips against Steve's, demanding entrance, until he felt the other man's lips part on a moan muffled by his own mouth and his tongue swept inside, learning, devouring. Steve's tongue licked along his and he shuddered, all too aware of the length of Steve's body plastered against his.

"Tony, Tony, Tony," Steve whispered against his lips, and Tony groaned again at the note of lust in his voice. "God, I want you..." His words were muffled by another kiss, Tony already addicted to the taste of Steve's mouth and not caring at all. Only when he had to pull away in order to breathe did Tony break the kiss, leaning his head against Steve's as they both gasped for air, his heart racing, echoing in his ears.

"I want to take you home," Tony said hoarsely, and felt Steve's shudder at his words. "I want to take you home and undress you and worship you, show you how wonderful it can be, make you fall to pieces in my hands." Steve moaned his name again and his hands tightened painfully on Tony's shoulders and Tony didn't want him to ever move.

"Do you have any idea what General Fury would say if he saw you two like that?"

Steve stiffened at the words, but Tony tightened his grasp, refusing to let him move, and raised his head so that he could look across the room to the doorway where Jarvis stood watching them with a smirk on his face.

"I can imagine all sorts of things," he said, clearing his throat. "And quite honestly, I don't give a damn. What we do out of uniform -- or armor -- is none of his damned business."

"Quite so, but if you two don't learn to control yourselves in public places, he'll end up having plenty to say, whether he wants to or not. You know the current policy, Tony. Money can only do so much against society mores." Jarvis closed the door behind him and crossed the room. As he approached, Tony realized that he was carrying a tray on which sat three cups, steam curling from the tops with a familiar scent. His mouth watered.

"Coffee," he sighed, releasing Steve's neck in order to reach out and take a mug. "You're a saint." Leaning back slightly, he took a long swallow, then sighed in contentment. Steve moved back and Tony's hand clenched at his waist. Steve met his eyes, smiling softly, although Tony could clearly see the sparks still in his eyes.

"I need to sit down," Steve said. “In my own chair,” he added pointedly, laughing, and Tony reluctantly loosened his grip, crossing his legs as Steve stood up, determined to keep what little scrap of dignity he had left, after being interrupted with Steve by Jarvis twice in one day.

They passed the time in silence after that, Tony drinking his coffee with greedy, grateful sighs, as Steve sipped at his, both of them casting sidelong glances at each other that turned into heated stares whenever their eyes met, broken only by Jarvis' pointed throat clearing. Tony found himself smiling, even considering the seriousness of the situation, and Steve had at least had his mind taken off of brooding over Bucky's condition. Sometime later, as Tony's stomach rumbled for the third time and Steve was giving him a long, concerned look, there came a rapping at the door.

"Sirs? Mr. Stark?" A pretty young nurse, brunette and shapely in her trim white uniform, her nurse's cap adjusted just so atop her careful bun, came in through the door. Tony gave her his normal once over and appreciative smile, only aware of doing so when Steve's foot touched his in a short, sharp movement just short of a kick. The pointed look he received when he turned to protest silenced him, although the nurse looked a little puzzled at his smile as he turned back to her.

"That's me," Tony said easily. Somehow, knowing that Steve was jealous whenever he gave attention to others, even in passing -- purely out of habit, really! -- made him feel more relaxed, more confident. Their heated moment earlier had only managed to make his resolution adamant about getting Steve home and into bed as soon as possible, if not sooner... but their location guaranteed that priorities would be handled appropriately. Setting down his now-empty coffee mug, Tony asked, "How is Bucky? Is he awake yet?"

The nurse nodded and gestured toward the door. "He's conscious, but only just. It’ll probably only last a few minutes. Would you like to see him?" She was asking him, Tony knew, because it was his name on the bill, although Steve obviously didn't know that, from the slightly puzzled look he turned toward Tony. He shook his head.

"No. Steve, you should go. You're practically family, and you're all he has," he said softly. Steve's worried expression softened a bit and he smiled at Tony.

"That's not true. He has you, too," he said, then rose to his feet, heading for the door. Once at the doorway he stopped and looked back. "Thank you," he said, then closed the door behind him. Silence rose up in the room, until Tony sighed and turned to Jarvis.

"All right, Jarvis. I know you've been dying to say something ever since you walked back in here. Out with it, already," he ordered, trying not to brace himself for the lecture he was afraid was coming up. He was nearing forty, for god's sake, he didn't have to be afraid of someone old enough to be his father lecturing him. But, he admitted privately, at least when it came to Jarvis, he still was. Jarvis eyed him, then turned a corner of his mouth up in a lopsided smile.

"No, no lecture today, Tony. A reminder to better choose your times and places, perhaps," Jarvis said, and Tony twitched slightly at the reminder of what the older man had interrupted. "But mainly I wanted to ask you something: Are you sure?"

Tony stared at him, not understanding his meaning, until Jarvis sighed. "Are you sure about Steve? That it's what he wants -- that it's what you want? That it's not those memories, of his or of yours, choosing for you?" Understanding dawned, and Tony frowned.

"I..." He shook his head. "I wasn't expecting that. But yes, I'm sure. I've had long enough to make sure, you know," he pointed out, and Jarvis' smile widened slightly. "It's been almost four years."

"And I'm amazed that you've managed to wait this long, honestly," Jarvis shot back. "You've never been one to deny yourself anything, especially pleasures of the flesh, before." Tony felt his cheeks heat and blinked at himself in astonishment. He was blushing. What in the world...? A moment spent regaining control of himself, and he shrugged, attempting to look casual.

"It's Steve," he said simply, as if that should explain it all. And it should. Jarvis looked him over carefully, then nodded.

"You love him." It wasn't a question. Tony nodded silently. "Hmm." Another silence, this time more uncomfortable as Tony found himself wondering about that little thoughtful noise. Finally, Jarvis stood up, and Tony gave him a sidelong look. "I'm going to go check on Steve -- I suspect Bucky's long since asleep again, and without a reminder of what's waiting for him out here, our Mr. Rogers may very well spend the night at his bedside. And quite frankly, if I interrupt you two one more time, I think I'll end up locking you both in your bedroom for the next month. You're right snippy when you've gone too long without sex, you know."

Tony was still blinking at the door as it shut behind Jarvis, although something in the region of his heart warmed at the smile Jarvis had given him before leaving. That was the closest they would ever come to really discussing things, he knew, and it was as near as Jarvis would come to giving them his blessing. It felt surprisingly good, knowing that his old friend approved of them. Although disapproval had never stopped him from going after what he wanted -- and it certainly wouldn't stop him from pursuing Steve -- it was deeply reassuring to know that pursuing the man he loved wouldn't alienate the man he considered family.

Tony caught himself at that thought. The man he loved. That sounded... good. It sounded right. Smiling a little himself, he stood up and crossed the room, following in Jarvis' footsteps.

Bucky's room was across the hall and he hesitated outside of it, glancing through the window in the door. The teenager was indeed asleep again, although Tony knew that drugs had more to do with that as exhaustion, and Steve was standing beside the bed, Bucky's hand in his, as he spoke quietly to Jarvis. Whatever they were discussing, Tony suspected that he didn't want to know, judging from the seriousness of the expressions on their faces. Instead, he rapped carefully on the door, nodding at them as they looked up to let them know that he was outside, then stepped away, forcing himself not to pace as he waited.

Some moments later, Jarvis stepped out of the room, followed closely by Steve. Jarvis nodded at Tony, a small smirk on his lips, then turned and headed down the hallway. Tony waited for Steve to meet his eyes. When he did, he was surprised by the crinkle of amusement around Steve's eyes.

"What did he say to you?" he asked before his better judgment could prevent him. Steve's amusement deepened.

"Probably the same thing he said to you," Steve answered easily. "Was I sure about this, did I mean it, how do I feel about you. Probably the standard speech that every concerned father gives to a potential suitor." Tony raised his eyebrows.

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," he said carefully, trying not leap on the "how do I feel about you" part, although he desperately wanted to. He knew that Steve wanted him, lusted after him, but... he had told Steve earlier, when he was still too exhausted and punch-drunk to keep the words back, that he loved him. Steve hadn't returned that sentiment. Tony wasn't exactly a sentimental fool, but...

Steve reached out and took his hand, pulling him close, too close for their semi-public surroundings, but Tony didn't care if Steve didn't. "I told him that I was absolutely sure," he said softly, pitching his words for Tony's ears alone. "That I definitely mean it, and that I have loved you for the last two years."

The casualness of the declaration allowed Tony to stare at Steve blindly for a long moment, long enough for Steve's small, happy smile to fall away, replaced by a small worried frown.

"Tony? I told you last night... You... you did say, earlier..." Steve's voice trailed off uncertainly, and Tony shook himself. He'd been more out of it than he'd realized, if he hadn't heard Steve telling him something so important. His hand tightened on Steve's as he stared at the man he loved. The man who loved him. That was... something he never thought he would have. Something must have shown in his eyes, as Steve's face cleared and he leaned closer.

"You... I..." Tony cleared his throat and tried again. "We should go. Home. I mean, to my home. We--" Steve placed a hand over Tony's mouth, silencing him, and his smile widened.

"I never thought I would see Anthony Edward Stark at a loss for words," he teased softly. Then his voice went serious. "And yes, we definitely need to go home. I want..." This time it was Steve's turn to clear his throat, even as his ears turned pink at the tips. "I want to spend the night with you. Making love with you." Tony swallowed harshly, memories of their earlier interrupted moments returning full force.

"Bucky--" he began, and Steve pushed gently against his mouth with his hand, quieting him again.

"Bucky would understand," Steve replied to the unspoken protest. "He's been wondering why we haven't done anything sooner, anyway. And I don't -- he wouldn't want us spending all of our time here worrying about him. I spoke to him, briefly. He'll be fine." His face flickered, remembering too late that Bucky wouldn't be "fine" again.

Tony reached up, gently removing Steve's hand, and replied, "He will be. I have alloys I've been working with, and even though some of the latest refinements I've made to size and delicacy have been for military projects, they have applications for prosthetics, too." Steve's eyes lit up at that, and Tony forbore from mentioning that a lot of his work in the field had been re-creating aspects of the other-Tony's inventions. Regardless of the hows or whys of it, he knew that somewhere in the back of mind for the last three years had been the fear of this exact event, motivating him to research the prosthetics possibilities. Now he was glad he had, but wished he had done more. He pushed those thoughts away. Tonight, just for once -- when it came to Steve, at least -- Tony was going to revert back to every bad habit he had ever had and be completely, utterly selfish.

"Let's go home," he suggested firmly, and Steve nodded.

***

They barely made it to Tony's bedroom before clothes started coming off. Even as Tony shoved Steve up against the wall, plundering his mouth, he reminded himself desperately that this was Steve's first time, he had never done this before, and he needed to make it worth every second of waiting. From the frantic moans as Steve's hands tightened on his shoulders, he had a good start. Reaching to the side, he fumbled open his bedroom door without removing his lips from Steve's until the door swung open. Then he pulled away, grinning up at a panting Steve, and pushed against him, walking him backwards into the room until he could swing the door shut again. This time he remembered to lock it.

Turning to look at his best friend -- his soon to be lover -- Tony allowed his gaze to sweep slowly over the other man, taking in the sight of the flushed face, the heaving chest, Army uniform stretched across his muscled frame. Steve blushed further as Tony stared, much to his amusement. When his hands went to his uniform shirt, however, Tony grabbed them before they could move.

"No. I've been looking forward to this for too long," he said hoarsely, answering Steve's unspoken question. Steve hesitated, then nodded, and let his hands fall to his sides. Tony set his hands on Steve's waist, pulling them together, groaning at the feel of Steve's hard length rubbing against his, even muffled as it was through the layers of cloth. He leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to Steve's lips, then stepped back, his hands going to the buckle of Steve's belt, working the tongue loose and out, then leaving the ends hanging. He flicked open the button on the fly of Steve's uniform pants, provoking a quiet whine, and smiled as his hands moved up to the collar that Steve had unbuttoned while they were still at the hospital. He made quick work of the rest of the buttons, then pulled the shirt out of Steve's pants.

He lifted each hand, pressing kisses against the fingertips and palm as he unbuttoned the cuffs. Once done, Tony pushed the shirt off of Steve's shoulders, leaving it to puddle on the floor. For once, Steve was too distracted to protest the inevitable wrinkles from that kind of treatment. The white undershirt quickly joined it, and Tony was faced with an expanse of bare skin that he had been dying to touch for nearly as long as he had known Steve.

Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the skin over Steve's heart, then smirked up at him mischievously and licked across a nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Steve's breath escaped him in a gasping groan, one hand going to Tony's shoulder in a tight grip as Tony sucked on the small nub of flesh, working it between his lips, until the pitch of Steve's whines told him it was becoming too sensitive. Then he released it, licking across the skin to the other nipple and repeating the process. By the time he was done, Steve was gasping for breath.

When Tony stepped back, Steve looked at him wide eyes, pupils blown nearly to black, and whimpered. The sound sent a flash of lust through his body straight to his dick and he pressed a hand against his throbbing groin. "God, what you do to me," he breathed.

"Let me touch you," Steve said, his voice low. Tony shivered. God, he wanted that, so much, but...

"Later. Later," he promised, kissing Steve fiercely. Steve's hands clenched at his sides for a minute, but he nodded again, trusting Tony.

As his hands moved to Steve's pants, Tony pressed kisses along the line of his throat, nibbling at the sensitive skin. Biting there made Steve gasp, a sharp, needy noise, and Tony repeated it until a red mark bloomed beneath his mouth. Steve moaned, and Tony smiled against him. While he worried at the mark, wondering if it would even show the next day, he made quick work of unzipping the uniform pants and pushing them over Steve's hips. Pulling away, he pressed a quick kiss to Steve's swollen lips before sinking to his knees in front of him. Steve let out a muffled groan as he did and Tony leaned back, smirking up at him.

"You like me on my knees?" he asked, and Steve only stared at him, making his smirk widen. "I think I could get used to it down here," he muttered, turning his gaze to the hard flesh pressing against the thin barrier of Steve's boxers, a damp spot showing how excited Steve already was. Tony moved forward, pressing his lips against the wetness, delighting in the full-body shudder that swept through Steve at the touch.

He pulled impatiently at the boot laces, mouthing Steve's erection through the thin fabric as he yanked the boots off. With Steve's cooperation, his normal grace turned clumsy with need, socks and pants soon followed, and Tony settled back on his heels, looking upward again, taking in the sight of Steve nearly naked and desperate with lust.

Steve groaned his name, his voice low and harsh, and Tony reached out, resting a hand on Steve's hip, his thumb rubbing small circles. One look told him that Steve wasn't going to stop him, so he hooked his fingers in the boxers and tugged them down carefully until they lay pooled at Steve's ankles. A soft gasp escaped Steve when Tony closed his fingers around Steve's cock. Tony licked his lips and Steve moaned wordlessly, watching him. Rising up on his knees, Tony swiped his tongue across the head of Steve's dick, licking up the precome gathered at the slit. Steve moaned again, louder, and Tony reached up with his other hand and grabbed his wrist, placing Steve's hand on the back of his head.

He felt Steve's fingers clench as he licked again, and groaned himself to let Steve know how much he liked the feeling. Then he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around Steve's cock, the startled noise that broke from Steve's throat making his own dick twitch. He shoved aside his own lust, concentrating solely on Steve, and began to bob his head. As he pulled his head back, he allowed his teeth to scrape lightly along the sensitive skin, making Steve gasp; on the way back down, he flicked his tongue against the sensitive spot on the front of the head before consciously relaxing his gag reflex and swallowing Steve down to the root. A few passes and Steve was panting, one hand clenched in Tony's hair and the other clinging hard enough to Tony's shoulder to leave bruises. That thought sent another shiver through Tony and he redoubled his efforts, until Steve threw his head back with a shout, his body shaking as he came, his release pouring down Tony's throat.

Tony swallowed, licking the taste of Steve’s come from his lips as pulled back, letting Steve's length slip out of his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the softening flesh and Steve made a quiet noise, then tightened his grip on Tony's shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Hot eyes met his, and then Steve was kissing the breath out of him, his mouth slanting across Tony's with surprising urgency. Tony's muffled whine seemed to spur Steve on, and he opened his mouth willingly to let Steve inside. One of Steve's hands crept to the back of his neck to hold him in place, and Tony's hands closed on Steve's hips, the knowledge that Steve was completely naked while he was still fully clothed making him even hotter.

"Tony," Steve breathed against his neck, and Tony shivered, tilting his head back. "Too many clothes," Steve muttered, and Tony let out a choked laugh as fingers began flying across shirt buttons.

When Steve paused after pushing his shirt open, Tony tensed, all too aware of what he looked like with the bubble over his heart, especially compared to the perfection of Steve's body. When he met Steve's eyes, his body tight with defensiveness, he didn't see the pity or the horror he expected. Instead, Steve curved a hand around the bubble, fingers tracing its edges with a gentle caress.

"I've seen it before," Steve said quietly, watching Tony's face. Tony shrugged, trying for his normal mask of nonchalance and aware that he was failing miserably.

"Not like this," he finally answered. Something in Steve's expression shifted then, and Tony was taken off-guard as Steve bent down, pressing his lips to the bubble before straightening again.

"It's part of you, Tony, and I love all of you." Tony blinked at the fierce edge in Steve's words and a knot he hadn't been aware loosened inside him. The small smile on Steve's face begged to be kissed, so Tony reached up and tugged his head down, kissing him with all the urgency he felt. When they broke apart that time, Steve's eyes were blazing and Tony felt him pressing against his belly, hard and hot.

Tony raised an eyebrow and grinned at him. "Already? I didn't believe what I read about the super soldier serum, but you might just change my mind." The flush on Steve's face didn't stop him from stripping Tony with quick efficiency, leaving the expensive suit lying on the ground. As Steve's eyes ranged over him, Tony thought about their ages, thought about his scars, and thought to hell with all of it. All that mattered was him and Steve, and right now.

Closing the distance between them, he hooked an arm around Steve's neck and murmured into his ear, "Let me show you what you've been missing all these years."

Epilogue

New York City, February 1944

"Are you sure you're okay waiting out here?" Steve asked anxiously.

Pepper smiled, shaking her head. "Steve, it's fine. We don't want to crowd him, and we'll just be outside the room." She gestured at the waiting area, and Tony watched, eyes dancing, as Steve gave in to her quiet insistence.

"Go on, boss. Get our boy ready to come home," Rhodey grinned from his chair in the corner. Jarvis, leaning against the wall beside him, nodded in agreement.

"C'mon, Steve, we've received our orders." Tony took Steve's arm, pulling him toward the door, and heard their friends laughing behind them.

They paused outside the door, Steve's face tightening with worry. "What if he's--"

With a careless noise, Tony cut him off. "You've been visiting Bucky every day, Steve. He's ready. Anyway, Jarvis dropped it off an hour ago." When Steve turned to stare at him accusingly, Tony shrugged. "I thought if he at least got a chance to look at it without us staring at him, it'd be easier. And Jarvis could help him try it on if he needed to."

Steve let out a sigh. "I just... I worry." Tony's hand tightened on his arm, as demonstrative as he dared to be in a place as public as a hospital, and Steve met his eyes. "Thanks." So much lay unspoken behind the simple word, but Tony heard it all anyway.

"Yeah. Now come on, soldier -- we've got a comrade in arms to pick up." Tony kept his voice light, knowing that Steve could see right through him. Steve's lips twitched, and he opened the door.

Inside, the private hospital room seemed nice enough, if cramped. Tony glanced around it, then dismissed it. They'd all become too familiar with the room in the weeks following the Zemo incident, while Bucky recovered. Today, they got to take Bucky home.

"Steve!" Bucky wrapped the man in a ferocious hug as Tony watched, not missing the fact that Bucky's left arm was gleaming metal. He swallowed back a lump in his throat at the sight. For all of his hope that things would turn out differently, something inside him had made him work long hours developing that alloy. Last summer he hadn't understood the motivation that kept driving him to sleepless nights; today, he was thankful for it. Stronger than expected arms wrapping around him drew him out of his thoughts, and he grinned down at Bucky, ruffling his hair
and laughing at the face the teenager made.

"Good to see you too," he said, stepping back as he eyed the fit of the prosthetic.

Bucky held out the arm for him to inspect and grinned. "I wasn't expecting this, you know. It's amazing, Tony!"

“How’s it feel?” The worry he'd been trying to hide spilled out in his voice and he bit back a wince. Steve’s sidelong glance told him that his reaction hadn’t gone completely unnoticed, and his lips curled. Steve reached out and grasped Tony’s forearm in a familiar, friendly motion. The contact relaxed Tony before he knew it, his spine relaxing. He tilted his head at Steve, who tightened his grip for a moment in response.

Bucky, his face creased in concentration as he watched his gleaming arm, missed the exchange. “It’s… weird. Heavy, but… I can feel it.”

Tony felt like cheering. “We can work on the weight. This is just a prototype, and—“

“I know, Tony.” Bucky met his eyes, face calm but eyes sparkling. “Thank you.” The simple words made Tony’s throat close and he swallowed harshly, knowing that the kid – no, the young man – in front of him wouldn’t miss that sign. He couldn’t even curse himself for it. Seeing Bucky with both arms – even if one was metal instead of flesh – made something inside him too warm, too full, to miss his normal composure.

Bucky’s gaze flickered over the two of them, Steve sitting a hair too close to Tony for friendship, and he broke into a grin. “You two finally quit dancing around each other, huh?”

Tony’s lips pulled into a matching smile and he turned to look at Steve. His lover’s face was calm, but the pink creeping over his cheeks gave him away. He turned his arm over, tangling his fingers with Steve’s, and shrugged, keeping his voice nonchalant. “Figured three years was long enough.” He paused, watching their younger partner. “Got a problem with it?”

Steve twitched and turned a shocked gaze on him. “Tony! You can’t just—“

“S’okay, Steve,” Bucky interrupted. He met Tony’s eyes. Tony could see a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his heart hurt at the sight. At least, he reminded himself fiercely, they’d all come out alive. Bucky might not have made it out whole, but missing an arm was a damn sight better than being a prisoner of the Reds and used as a soulless assassin. Bucky shook his head, clearly amused. “You know I don’t, Tony. I always knew you guys were waiting for things to calm down. I don’t blame you for deciding to go for it now.”

“Bucky, if you’re not okay with it—“ Steve started, his voice earnest, and Tony cut him off.

“No, Steve.” Steve looked at him with wide eyes. Tony shook his head. “No. Bucky means a lot to you – to both of us – but if he’s not okay with us being together, that’s his problem.” He laid his other hand over their still-entwined fingers and leaned toward Steve. “We’ve earned this, Steve. We’ve gone through hell and back and deal with more than anyone should ever be asked to. We deserve to be happy. I don’t care who has a problem with that. I’d tell the president – no, I’d tell Fury himself to go to hell if he tried to cause a ruckus over it.”

“Good.” The fierceness in Bucky’s voice caught Tony by surprise. They both looked at the younger man, who grinned, a sharp edge in the expression. “He’s right, Steve. You shouldn’t care what I think, or what anybody else thinks. Just… be happy.” He took a breath, then continued, his smile losing the fierceness and sliding into real fondness, “You two belong together. And I’m proud to call you my partners.”

Silence filled the room, but the matching smiles as Steve and Bucky looked at each other made the quiet comfortable. Steve pulled his hand out of Tony’s grasp and reached out, tugging on Bucky’s arm until the younger man was close enough for him to pull into an embrace. For once, Bucky didn’t fight it. Instead, his arms came up around Steve’s shoulders. They stayed like that for a long, intense moment, and Tony found himself blinking dust out of his eyes. When they finally parted, Bucky’s eyes were bright.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Steve said simply, his voice hoarse, and Bucky swallowed, then nodded. He looked toward Tony, who quirked one side of his mouth up into a grin.

“You ready to go home?” Bucky’s face lit up.

“You bet! The food here is terrible.”

“Better get packing, then.” Tony gestured at the few mementos on the side table, and Bucky nodded eagerly. Tony watched him, aware of Steve’s eyes on him in turn.

“He’s getting used to it already,” Steve murmured. Tony nodded.

“It’s too heavy,” he said just as softly. “I’ll fix that. I want it to be perfect.” Steve reached out and caught his arm, startling Tony into looking at him again. In that shared gaze, Tony saw love and thanks and concern, and he knew Steve could see his love and worry for the teenager currently cramming his meager belongings into an Army duffle.

“It will be,” Steve said. Tony glanced at Bucky long enough to make sure he was still occupied, then reached up and pulled Steve closer. He pressed his lips to Steve’s in a quick kiss, knowing that Steve didn’t need the words he wouldn’t say. Steve sighed against him and deepened the kiss, and Tony forgot all about the world around them.

“Oh, ew. Come on, give me a break!”

Tony laughed against Steve’s mouth and broke the kiss with one last promising lick before turning toward Bucky again. Bucky’s face was drawn up into an exaggerated moue of disgust, but as soon as he caught sight of Steve’s blush, Bucky fell into laughter. Tony stood up, Steve following, and cocked his head.

“I assume that means you’re ready,” he said steadily. Bucky nodded, still giggling. Tony shook his head and reached out, ruffling his hair. He ignored Bucky’s protest and glanced at Steve. “You?” Steve nodded. With one last glance around the hospital room, Tony opened the door. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

He watched Bucky almost bounce out of the room in excitement, oblivious to the stares his metal arm was causing as Pepper swept him into a hug. Beside him, Steve couldn't keep a smile off his face, and Tony figured he was probably just as bad, seeing the sidelong glance Rhodey gave them. He didn't care. As he and Steve approached the group, Tony had to blink hard, taking in the sight of Pepper grinning at them and Rhodey's hand now protectively on Bucky's shoulder, as Jarvis stood watchfully behind them.

A mismatched bunch they might be, but they were family. They were his family, and they were going home. For the first time in a long time, home meant something.

~ fin ~