Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve was thinking, idly, of the most horrible ways a person could die…

He was sitting in the breakroom, uncomfortably upright on one of the couches. Still wearing his fire damaged uniform, little flecks of soot falling from his hair every time he ran his hands through it. Really, he would have liked to have a shower, changed into more comfortable clothes – gone straight down to the gym and put all of his post mission adrenaline into a couple of punching bags.

But, apparently, an opportunity had presented itself – and Steve couldn’t risk missing it.

As soon as he found out who Nick was meeting with, Steve made straight for the second floor and staked out the seat directly opposite the elevator.

And he’d waited.

And waited.

And, in that time, he’d had nothing to do but rehash this latest mission. Everything that had gone wrong. Everything that could have gone wrong.

All the ways it might be worse, next time.

Steve pictured it again. The look of panic in Bucky’s eyes, as his arm seized up. The sharp cry as the pain shot through his body, so powerful that he dropped to his knees.

In the middle of a firefight.

He could be in pain like that for the rest of his life

He could end up getting killed

We all could all end up getting killed…

And what really irritated Steve was that things were getting worse . 

It hadn’t been painful like that the last time Bucky’s arm seized – before Dr Stape fucked about with it. And it hadn’t seized up at all before Dr Niko fucked about it with it. And the involuntary movements that Dr Niko had been treating were still as bad as they’d ever been…

A shadow fell over him, pulling him out of his increasingly angry thoughts.

 “Hey.” Steve managed a little smile when he saw Natasha. She looked him over, analysing the fact that he hadn’t changed yet. Then she glanced at the elevator.

“He’s not going to see you, you know,” she sighed.

“Thanks for that,” Steve deadpanned, and she softened slightly.

“I’m just saying, you might as well go and have a shower… get that looked at, maybe.” She gestured to a dark bloodstain, the size of a coaster, on his shoulder. Steve shook his head dismissively. It had healed already.

“I can do that later.”

“Look, Steve… I know how much it means to you, getting Bucky’s arm fixed…”  She began carefully, walking over to sit beside him on the couch. “And I know there aren’t a lot of good solutions… And I know you. I know that means you’re about to go all in on this plan. Once you’ve decided that something has to work-”

“I just want to ask the question,” Steve interrupted, in an appeasing tone.

“Yeah, and when he says no, you’ll ask again.” Nat sighed. “And then you’ll try again. And again. And, the thing is Steve, if I thought you had even the slightest chance of getting anywhere with this, I’d say go for it…” She trailed off into a pause, like she was trying to think of how to phrase something. And then she shook her head. And then she smiled. “I already know there’s no point trying to talk you out of it. I just… don’t want to see you get your hopes up, I guess.”

Steve smiled more genuinely at that. He knew she meant well. He knew that Nat cared about him, that she cared about Bucky, that she always had his back. That meant a lot. And, of course, she was right- 

There was no point trying to talk him out of this.

“It’s not Tony Stark I’m waiting for,” he told her, with a knowing smile. “It’s Pepper Potts.”

“No need to be pedantic” Nat answered, sardonically.

And then the elevator binged.

 Steve was on his feet immediately. He cast an apologetic glance at Nat – who had already surrendered. She waved him on, go, go …

Pepper looked directly at Steve, the moment the doors slid open. As confident and in control as she would have been walking into a board room. Steve smiled.

 He already felt like he knew her.

He’d spent the last three weeks watching every interview she’d ever given, reading every personal profile and analysing every business report with her name on it, in anticipation of an opportunity like this.

Because Steve wasn’t being pedantic. He wasn’t here to give Pepper a message for Tony Stark. He really had been waiting for half an hour to speak to her.

Steve already knew that Tony Stark wouldn’t listen to him. Tony Stark had ignored invitations from royalty and subpoenas from Congress and personal appeals from the President of the United States. Thousands of people had written him letters, and called him out in the press, and even given Pepper messages to pass on. Stark hadn’t listened to any of them-

But he listened to her.

Pepper Potts had been the public face of Stark Industries for nearly twenty years. She was one of only two people who’d actually seen Stark in person in all that time, and she was the person who spoke for him in press conferences and represented him at business meetings and delivered the tech that he designed. All evidence pointed to the fact that Stark trusted her.

And Steve thought there was a chance that Pepper would listen to him. At least there were interviews he could watch and profiles he could read, to give him a clue how to play this… At least he could speak to her in person, try to read her reaction and hopefully let her see how important this was.

And if he could convince Pepper, maybe she could convince Tony Stark…

Well, he had to try.

“Captain Rogers,” she smiled warmly, extending a hand. “Nick said you wanted to speak to me before I left?”

“Yes, thank you – I know how busy you are.” Steve got straight to the point -he got the impression she preferred things that way. “You probably already know about the issues Bucky’s had with his arm. All the people we already talked to.”

And Pepper nodded – well, obviously she already knew about it. Tony Stark had been involved with the Avengers since the beginning, and after the fall of SHIELD it was only Stark’s money and tech that kept the team going. He was their main contributor and only external ‘director’ – although, obviously, he performed that role from a distance. Tony Stark had never spoken to any of them directly. He’d never tried to interfere with the work they did. But Steve knew, all the bills and all the mission reports and all the inventories went to him. Via Pepper.

So, Steve could probably skip the background details. Good.

“Well, so far none of it has helped,” Steve sighed, sadly. “In fact, mostly, it’s made everything much worse. He’s in pain now, and sometimes… Today, there was a malfunction, and it just knocked him clear off his feet. It’s a miracle he didn’t get shot right then, or that Nat didn’t get shot going in to cover him, or…” Steve caught himself before he could spiral into all his fears and worries. Tried to recentre on what little insight he had about Pepper.

She was smart, and not weighed down by her own ego, and not one to suffer fools,  sycophants, or manipulators. Watching her TV interviews had told him that much. That, and that she was pretty co-operative, when people were reasonable and honest and upfront…

“What you, and Stark Industries and Mr Stark, do for the Avengers is incredible, and I know we have no right to ask for anything else.” Steve started, simply. “But this isn’t me asking for a favour. This is just me explaining the situation as it is, to someone who I know cares about what happens. I know that you put as much into the Avengers as he does. So, I guess you need to know as much as anyone… This is a really bad situation.”

“So, what do you think I can do to help?” Pepper asked outright. Of course she did.

“I’m pretty sure that Tony Stark is the only person who might actually be able to fix this thing.” Steve tried to be forthright in his answer.

Suddenly, he felt… nervous. A perfectly human anxiety, for a conversation he just really wanted to go well – with someone much better at this stuff than he was. He remembered this feeling, from when he was much smaller. If Bucky were here, he’d be pulling faces behind Peppers back. Either trying in vain to help Steve out, or deliberately trying to wind him up, depending on the circumstances.

And it was remembering his friend , rather than his duty as an Avenger, that pushed Steve on with this.

“The equipment that we get from Stark Industries is different from everything else out there.” He breathed, “Not just better. The weapons he sends aren’t just better weapons – they’re safer and more comfortable and better from the environment, and... And it’s more than him just thinking of everything. It’s the fact that he sees it as a whole. The fact that he thinks about who is going to be using it, and where and why. And – you know that rumour, that Tony Stark died years ago, and all this tech is really designed by a whole committee of geniuses, and they’re just using his name?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one,” Pepper answered with an easy laugh.

“Well, I always knew that wasn’t true, because I’ve seen committees at work – I’ve seen whole committees trying to fix this thing for Bucky, and they don’t come up with something as coherent as this.” Steve gestured to the communicator on his wrist, as the most available example of Stark Tech. “I know something like this has to be designed by one person. One person who can think about everything…”

Steve made himself stop there. He knew he’d gotten slightly flustered, and deviated from his script a bit… He was babbling. Straying dangerously close to fawning. He took another little breath, and tried to bring it all together in a stronger finish.

“It’s my job to run this team, and this team is here to keep the world safe – I’m supposed to do everything I can think of, to make that happen.” He told her seriously “And, honestly, the only thing I can think of is asking Tony Stark.”

And Pepper breathed a patient smile…a sad sort of softness around her eyes, now-

Like an apology .

Steve felt his heart drop. He was reading this conversation the same way he would an interrogation, or an undercover operation – and he could see it wasn’t going well.

“Well, I can pass the message on, of course.” Pepper told him, pleasantly. “I assume that the details are all stored on the central server?”

“I think so, ma’am,” Steve nodded, automatically. “I’ll make sure they are.”

“I’ll ask him to have a look, see what he thinks.” Pepper assured him, in what was clearly meant to be a concluding remark, but Steve was ready to grab for anything to keep this conversation going.

“I know he doesn’t see people,” he said softly. “And I’m not going to say I understand that – because I know that… other people just don’t understand some things…”

And there was a little spark behind her eyes. Intrigued, maybe. Interested .

“…I was born in 1918, I’m the living result of a military experiment” Steve carried on, cautiously. “I have baggage that I couldn’t even describe to you. And Bucky has… things he doesn’t have to explain to anyone. So, I’m not going to be asking for an explanation, is what I’m saying. I don’t think I’m owed one. I’m not going to question whatever help he can offer…I’m not going to question anything ”

He wasn’t entirely sure what about this was working… But it was. He saw the way her gaze focused on him, a genuine engagement pushing through the polite professionalism.

“You care about him, don’t you?” She asked, in a different voice entirely. “Bucky.”

“Yes, of course” Steve answered quickly and she smiled.

“That’s what this is really about.”

Steve dropped his shoulders. He knew that she already knew the answer.

“Honestly, yeah, that’s why this keeps me up at night,” he admitted and was relieved when she just carried on smiling at him.“But that doesn’t mean any of that other stuff isn’t true. And I know my fears for my friend aren’t your concern – I wouldn’t be asking you, if it was only that.”

…Okay, he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. But he was sure that-

“This is more than that. I really think it does concern Stark Industries – at least, if the Avengers do.”

Pepper just looked at him for a moment… and Steve had lost all track of what she might be thinking. Whether her thoughtful frown meant that she was considering it, or just baffled by this awkward pitch, Steve couldn’t quite tell.

“But he’s your friend?” She asked, suddenly “Not a partner?”

Steve was briefly taken aback by the question – but only because it had come from nowhere.

“No, it’s not like that ,”  he assured, easily – even though he knew, if he tried to actually explain his relationship with Bucky, it wouldn’t seem nearly that simple. That was just one of those things other people wouldn’t understand. And other people didn’t have to understand it. Steve knew what Pepper was really asking, and from his point of view, the answer was easy. “He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m not in love with him – but I do love him. He’d been my best friend, since before any of this happened to either of us. So, yeah, I’d go as far for him as I would a partner...” Steve trailed off, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

She was just… looking at him, again.

And then, just as Steve was scrabbling to think of yet another avenue of conversation, she nodded at him.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she told him, warmly.

And Steve felt a sudden surge of relief, because he just knew – that was different to ‘I’ll pass the message on’.

“Thank you.” He smiled.

*

Tony was just about to say what a good day it’d been.

He’d actually gone to bed last night – and not just because he’d concussed himself, or because he’d been promising to go to bed since the night before. No, he’d actually woken up after a good night’s sleep, and spent the whole day making breakthroughs on his latest project. And then Pepper had arrived, with a bottle of wine and a lot of positive reports about the company and the Avengers... 

And Tony was just about to tell her that he was in a good mood for once-

And then she dropped the bombshell.

“I really think you need to look at Barnes’ arm yourself.”

Tony snapped to attention, his brow creased in incredulity. He could tell from her tone that she was serious.

“Why, has it fallen off?” Tony asked, acerbically. Pepper softened her shoulders, and took a step forward-

She was really serious about this, then – otherwise she’d have just rolled her eyes at that.

“Well, I haven’t given you the final Avengers report for the day,” she explained, her tone full of something he couldn’t quite place.“Yesterday’s mission… did not go well.”

“The people trafficking thing in Russia?” Tony frowned, momentarily distracted from his outrage. That should’ve been a totally by the books operation. The only reason he hadn’t asked about it was that he naturally assumed it’d been a walk over… “How did that go wrong?”

“Barnes’ arm seized up,” Pepper answered, as though it should’ve been obvious. “The details are in the latest mission report. And all the details of his treatment so far are stored on the central server.” She was speaking in that lilting, uplifted way she did when she was building to something, gesturing to the general area where Tony’s holograms usually appeared.

Tony brought the details up somewhere else entirely, just to be petty. He gave Pepper an unimpressed glare, before he turned his attention to the mission reports…

And then the glare melted into a thoughtful look… and then a concerned frown…

“It’s bad then?” Pepper prompted, after a few minutes.

“It’s… a mess.” Tony sighed. He’d moved on to Bucky’s recent scans by then, flicking between them as he tried to make sense of what the latest doctor had done. “I thought the last guy was a leading neurologist?”

“You understood his work better than I did.” Pepper reminded him – but Tony wasn’t really talking to her.

“Well, he doesn’t seem to understand how this technology interacts with the central nervous system,” he carried on, just thinking out loud, as he scrolled back through the last few medical reports. “…Jesus, this is just… Fuck up after fuck up…”

“Well, Captain Rogers has apparently searched through every expert on earth, to come up with that list of fuck ups…” Pepper commented, in that same lilting tone-

And Tony remembered the ludicrous statement that had started this conversation in the first place.

“Well, maybe I can do better than Captain Rogers.” He told her in a cold, level voice. “If you need me to find an actual expert, I’m sure I know what to look for more than he does.”

“And can you think of anyone who might be able to sort this mess out?” Pepper gestured to the hologram again.

“…Not off of the top of my head, no” Tony admitted – because, worryingly, all names he would have suggested were people that Rogers had already tried…

“Don’t you think that person would come to mind immediately?” Pepper asked. “If there was someone out there who could make sense of this… mess ?”

Tony looked back over the array of scans… the slow progression from bad to worse…

He tried to think of any neurologist, engineer, bio-engineer or medical expert that wasn’t already on Steve Rogers list…

And realised that this job would require a little bit from each of those fields…

And probably someone who understood military technology… through the years…

And the philosophy of Artificial Intelligence, and Artificial Organics…

…Fuck, did it have to be him?

There was a sudden stab of panic in his chest then, as he really considered what Pepper was asking him to do. He literally flinched away from it. And then he felt that fear heat into irritation – if he’d been talking to anyone else, he’d have called it anger.

“Look, no offence Pep, but it isn’t my mess,” Tony explained, trying so hard to stay calm that he sounded anything but. And then gestured to the workshop with a wide arc of his hand, from the pile of jagged scrap metal in the left-hand corner, to the stack of blood stained coffee mugs in the sink. He kept pointing at them, as he carried on, “ This is my mess. Trying to do something positive, without being outed as a monster, and having everything I’ve ever built come crashing down.”

Her eyes softened in such genuine sympathy when he called himself a monster. It helped take the sharp edge of his frustration – but it didn’t make him feel any better about himself. It never had.

“You really think the world will come crashing down if you let Captain America and Bucky Barnes come to the workshop one time?” She asked him, gently.

“Why would Steve Rogers be coming with him?” Tony asked, quickly, and Pepper answered just as quickly.

“I assumed you’d insist.”

Tony frowned in confusion, trying to work out why the hell she’d think that – and then he remembered that he didn’t even discuss people coming to the workshop. Ever. They weren’t even having this conversation.

“Well, I don’t insist. In fact, you know what, I insist that they not come here. Either of them,” he asserted. “I’ll look at the plans, I’ll try and think of someone better to do the work, I’ll send that person step by step instructions if I have to-”

“And when that doesn’t work?” She asked him, seriously.

That irritation flashed up again.

No, scratch that – this time it was anger.

“JARVIS, what year is it?” Tony announced, sarcastically.

“2012, sir,” came the polite reply.

“Oh, just checking that I hadn’t accidently gone back in time, what, five years? It must be at least five years, since you said – again – that we’d had this conversation for the last time.” He reminded her, snippily.

And Tony had to stop himself. He had to take a moment to calm himself, to push past that sudden burst of emotion before he carried on.

He always wondered, at times like these, what biological process was he trying to quell. What caused these familiar symptoms, now that his heart couldn’t skip a beat and he couldn’t possibly be struggling for breath…

Why did he still take a deep breath, when he wanted to push through these moments?

“I’m sorry,” he started again. “I really am. I’d help Bucky if I could – I’d help everyone if I could. But I can’t help everyone . If I let Bucky in, then why not all the other people with doctors less qualified than me? And if I let everyone in, how long do you think it’ll be before the whole world knows I’m a vampire? Would you like to take a guess at what happens to the stock price if that comes out? And what happens to the Avengers if the company folds – or, hell, what happens to the Avengers if it comes out that their director is a fucking vampire ? They get enough shit from everyone just for saving the world. Or what happens to you, or to Rhodey, when all the people that hate me realise that I have a lot of weaknesses they hadn’t thought of. Like, you know, sunlight-”

“You’re rambling.” Pepper informed him, kindly.

“Yeah, well, there are a lot of reasons why this is a bad idea” Tony shot back.

“Do you really think either Sargent Barnes or Captain America would out you as a vampire, even if they did find out?” Pepper asked. “Although, why you think they’d find that out, just because they came to the workshop once-”

“What makes you think they wouldn’t ?” Tony challenged.

“Because I’ve met Steve Rogers,” Pepper answered breezily.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Okay, you’ve met him, and he’s made you feel sorry for him, and his friend. Fine,” Tony sighed. “I get it, I vaguely remember that – some people are sympathetic when you talk to them… But that’s just not a good enough reason, Pep. I can’t risk everything because Steve Rogers is a good salesman. Sorry. No.”

And Pepper exhaled slowly, and gave a sad little nod – and Tony dared to think that was the end of it.

“He’s very attractive, you know,” Pepper commented nonchalantly. 

“Yes, I know,” Tony groaned. “I don’t have to invite the guy to the workshop to appreciate that – he’s on TV literally all the time. Just like a thousand other attractive people.”

Honestly – as if Tony was going to take back everything he’d just said, just because the guy was pretty. Pepper should give him more credit. Tony really thought she knew him better than to say any of this-

“Oh, he’s really not,” Pepper muttered, almost to herself.

…Okay, Pepper knew him better than anyone.

Because Tony didn’t even know what nerve she’d just touched. Whether that seemingly off-hand remark had inspired a spike of jealousy, or curiosity, or an insecurity at being left out of a secret… maybe something else entirely. Something that – belatedly – led him to wonder why she was bringing this up for the first time in at least five years. What made this thing so special…?  Suddenly, there was a tension in his body, and an obvious edge on his voice when he asked,

“He’s really not what?”

“He’s really not like a thousand other people on television,” Pepper answered casually. “And, actually, you don’t really know what he looks like, because he doesn’t really look like his photographs… You know how some people are just like that?” And she looked at him, faux innocent, for an answer.

And, irritated though he was in that moment, Tony almost smiled at her. Part of him had to give her props for being able to hook his attention so expertly, however adamant he’d been a moment ago. He couldn’t help but appreciate the objective intelligence of it.

Mostly, though, he was just irritated.

“Okay, you obviously have an agenda here,” Tony huffed. “ You want me to help this guy for some reason. And you might as well tell me what it is – because you’re not going to convince me I want to give up my free time, and risk everything I’ve built, for someone who probably dressed up as a Vampire for Halloween…”

He trailed off when he recognised the wry look Pepper had fixed him with.

Tony dropped his shoulders, and let go of a purely symbolic heavy breath – another human habit he’d held on to, twenty years after stopped making sense. And then, before he could apologise for the outburst, she answered it.

“Actually, it’s more Bucky that I feel sorry for,” she smiled sadly. “He was turned into a weapon, against his will, and… you know what it’s like. To be… frightened , of your own body…”

Tony felt an immediate pang of guilt, which his brain took a few seconds to catch up with… realising that he had been looking at those plans as though they were a piece of tech, rather than a person’s arm … He hadn’t really considered how different those malfunctions would feel, to a person who had to be attached to them…

And he should have, really.

Because he did know what it was like…

Tony narrowed his eyes at Pepper.

He knew he should tell her no. He tried to tell her no… But, suddenly, there was a bodily resistance to saying it. A tightening in his ribs and a solidness through the whole of his torso. He was saying it all in his head – all the things he’d just said, all the things he’d been saying for twenty years.  He found himself trying to physically force it, over a stiff tongue and an uncooperative jaw…

And maybe it was just that this was the first time Pepper had asked him to help someone.

Maybe it was just that he found it harder to refuse a favour to her than to any of the people who’d asked her to pass on their messages.

Maybe he was intrigued to know what - who - had pushed her to make this plea, after all this time.

Or, maybe it was that he did feel sorry for Bucky now.

But he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her no.

And then he thought about whether it would be any easier to tell her yes – and found that he was actually just saying it.

“I will agree to see him, once .” Tony informed her, curtly. “And he has to come here, and he has to come at night, and he has to come alone- ”

“Oh… I think Captain Rogers will insist on coming with him,” Pepper interrupted, her tone more careful now. “…Which, actually, I think would be a good idea, for a few reasons.”

Tony briefly considered putting his foot down over it – purely out of stubbornness.

But…

If he was going to break his decades-long ban on visitors…

Even though he knew that Pepper had been goading him, and there probably wouldn’t be any difference between the real Steve Rogers and his pictures…

Okay, he did kind of want to see for himself now.

“Fine – but just the two of them, ” Tony insisted, and Pepper nodded placatingly. “And this is just a consultation, with no guarantees – this is not me saying that I’m going to ‘fix his arm’. I am just going to have a look at it.”

“I’ll be very clear about that,” Pepper assured him, smiling now.

“And they do not need to know anything about me” Tony warned her, making sure to look her right in the eye for this point. “They do not need to be told I’m a vampire. They do not need to be warned that I’m ‘a bit different’. They do not need to be prepared for me being a bit eccentric, or anything like that. You can tell them I’ll see them – once – and they can just take me as they find me.”

“Of course,” She told him sincerely, placing an affectionate hand on his arm. Tony let go of a little bit of the tension in his body.

Oh, this was a stupid idea. But.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Then, it’s fine.”

Chapter Text

Steve backed the car into the specified bay behind Tony Stark’s mansion. He cut the engine, and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket so that he could switch it off, as instructed. And then he took a moment to look up at the house…

Usually, at moments like this, Steve would try to visualise the potential outcomes. Even when he had no idea what a place looked like, he’d still have some idea of what to expect on the other side of the door… who would be there, or what events were about to take place, or even what the general atmosphere might be-

But right now, he really had no idea of what he was about to walk into.

Steve had spent the last few nights trying to find a photograph of Tony Stark. He knew there wouldn’t be any after 1992, and he’d heard that Stark Industries had been thorough in removing all the earlier pictures from the internet – but he’d thought a few would have slipped through, surely? Paparazzi shots of Stark in his teen years, or press photographs of his parent’s funeral, or pictures from people’s private collections, uploaded to Facebook years after they were taken. Something on one of SHIELDs servers even, where Stark shouldn’t have been able to get to it…

But no.

Steve had searched every database and archive he had access to, and still the only picture of Tony Stark that he’d had ever seen was a low-resolution image of a wide-eyed toddler, looking up at his father, on the cover of Newsweek . Too iconic an image for Stark Industries to bother removing, maybe – or too obviously useless in identifying him now. It certainly didn’t help Steve to imagine what he looked like today…

Or what he might be like. What this house might be like. What they should say or do when they got in there - 

“Steve?” Bucky prompted gently, and Steve snapped out of it.

“Right, yeah,” he nodded, opening the door. “You ready?”

“Not getting any readier,” Bucky shrugged. Steve felt a little twinge of guilt. He reminded himself that his anxieties didn’t really get a look in here. Not when Bucky had to work through so many traumas, every single time they did this. Steve knew there were a hundred things Bucky was trying not to think about right now. Things he was trying so hard not to remember …

Steve really hoped that Stark wasn’t going to be an ass about this.

So far, every specialist they’d spoken to had been an ass – each in their own special way. There was the guy who just pulled Bucky’s arm around like a piece of equipment, in spite of numerous reminders that it was attached to him. Then there was the woman who continued to ask astoundingly insensitive questions about HYDRA, even when Bucky was quite clearly getting upset. And who could forget the team at NASA, who broke into an aggressive argument amongst themselves while Bucky was still wired into a scanner. Steve would like to hope that Stark was going to be different… But, since he had literally nothing to base that on, it would have to be his job to help Bucky through this.

He flashed Bucky a smile he didn’t really feel, and gestured towards the door.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” he said, cheerfully. “And if you’re a big boy, and don’t make a fuss, we can get ice cream on the way home.”

Bucky threw him a snide look. Steve could see him trying not to smile.

*

Tony was trying not to throw up.

He’d spent the last few days in a state of constant, queasy anxiety. Listing all the reasons that this was such a bad idea. Trying not to think about it. Trying to come up with a way to get out of it. Asking himself why he’d agreed to it in the first place. And round and round the cycle went, until he felt physically, bodily exhausted with it. Until – he thought – he was actually anxious for it to happen. For it to be over with.

And then JARVIS calmly announced that Captain Rogers’ car had pulled up outside, and it just… hit him . That this thing was actually happening. What ‘this thing’ really was. Just how much he didn’t want to do this-

He couldn’t do this.

And it had nothing to do with personal security or the future of the company or the integrity of the Avengers. It wasn’t any of the reasons he’d given to Pepper, or any of the objections he’d been listing in his own head for days. This was something right from his gut. A sudden understanding that…

This would be the first person he’d met in twenty years.

These would be the first people to even know what he looked like. The first time anyone could ask him a question or listen to his opinion or take offence to him in some way... The first time he had to think about what it meant to be human. The more Tony tried to process that idea, the more terrifying it became. The more he remembered the reasons he’d hidden himself away from people in the first place.

There was an immediate impulse to run. To simply tell JARVIS not to unlock the door, to not care what either of them thought about it-

Tony remembered this feeling.

The same irrational, emotional terror that had overwhelmed him when his parents died. When he’d tried to picture running that huge company, in a world without any family… The moment he’d panicked and thought, I can’t.

The same wordless horror that swamped him, when he looked down at his own undead body and realised what Obie had done. The moment when he’d tried to comprehend that he was a vampire … and thought, I can’t .

It was just as big a fear that gripped Tony now – and it was going to be the same answer. The same little voice that whispered, you can, because you have to.

Tony uncurled his fists. He forced himself to relax his shoulders and stand up straighter. He told himself again, you can, because you have to. And he knew he had to. He couldn’t tell Pepper that he’d just left both of them on the doorstep, when this was the first thing she’d asked of him in twenty years. He couldn’t break this promise to her, not now. And Tony knew he couldn’t really do it to Rogers or Barnes either. Tony wasn’t exactly sure what he was any more… but he was sure that he wasn’t cruel.

Tony couldn’t send them away. So, he could deal with them being here. It would just have to be that way-

And then, when they were gone, then he could throw up.

“Shall I open the main entrance, sir?” JARVIS enquired, a little hint of caution in his voice. Tony swallowed hard before he answered.

“Yeah, main door and the elevator,” he managed, still trying to steady himself. “Just let them right through.”

“They’re on their way, sir.” JARVIS confirmed, cheerfully.

Tony stared at the elevator doors for two impossibly long seconds before the tension got to be too much. Then he paced over to the other side of the workshop again and opened up Barnes’ medical records, just for the sake of something to do. He heard the elevator come to a soft stop and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He resolved to ignore it.

He did glance up, briefly, when he heard the two of them step into the workshop. He caught a glimpse of Barnes, and the shadow of Rogers, just a generic shape behind him – Tony looked away before he could take in any more detail.

And he was right in the middle of chastening himself for that – maybe even starting to talk himself down, to finally recognise how absurd this reaction was-

And then Rogers spoke.

“Thank you for agreeing to see us,” his voice was unsettlingly familiar, coming from a total stranger.

“Well, Pepper said…”

And Tony knew he’d been right in the middle of saying something, when he’d eventually managed to look up-

And seen Steve-

And just…

Forgotten how to talk.

Oh, God, Steve really was so much prettier in real life than in any of his photographs-

And so there .

Standing right there, taking up so much more space than Tony had been expecting… so much taller, and broader, than he looked on TV…

Suddenly, all the big, existential questions just crumbled into irrelevance. Tony was immediately overwhelmed by the very simple, very human realisation that this was the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life… He hadn’t felt anything like this in over two decades. And yet, for just a minute, it felt so natural and so familiar and so much, that he almost forgot that he was fundamentally separate from all this-

And then he realised that he had no idea what he was saying. And then he remembered just how separate from everything he really was.

“…That I had to,” Tony managed to finish, weakly. Turning, pointedly, back to his holograms. “Pepper said that I had to see you. So. It’s probably her you should thank.”

Smooth, Stark, real smooth…

“Well. We appreciate it anyway,” Steve answered, more curtly – and Tony felt his shoulders tense.

Two minutes in, and already going badly. This was why he didn’t socialise…

“Okay, so, let’s have a look then,” Tony huffed, talking to Barnes directly. He was also a beautiful man, of course, and also much bigger in real life… But looking at him just didn’t have the same bodily impact on Tony. Maybe it was because Barnes did at least look like his photographs…

…Maybe he just didn’t have that particular ethereal prettiness that Steve had-

“So, what exactly happened with it?” Tony asked Barnes, a tad too sharply.

“Er, well, this last time it just seized up,” Bucky answered, awkwardly lifting his arm so that Tony could look it over. “And then there was a sort of, electric shock feeling, up along my back…”

“So, did it seize first and then there was the shock?” Tony clarified – most of his attention still focused on the idea of Steve, somewhere off to the left of him, where he was refusing to look…

“Yeah, definitely,” Bucky nodded. “There was definitely a second when I realised my arm wasn’t moving, before the pain.”

Tony felt his mind come into sharper focus, as that response managed to grab his attention. There was a little loosening in his chest, a feeling of freedom, as his attention shifted to the answer Barnes had just given-

This wasn’t the information he’d been expecting.

“So, the first you knew there was a problem was when you went to move your arm?” Tony frowned, glancing up to meet Barnes’ eye. He realised that it was much easier to do that, when he was actually thinking about something else…

“Well, it was more that it went dead,” Bucky explained. “It felt… heavy , all of a sudden – then I tried to move it. Then the pain.”

“And it didn’t hurt, the last time it seized up…” Tony mused, looking back at the holograms.

“Nope, that’s never happened before.”

“Did it feel heavy, the last time?” Tony questioned, glancing back at him. He saw the flicker of thought behind Bucky’s eyes.

“…No, actually,” he remembered out loud. “No, last time it just froze, mid action – but it wasn’t heavy, the same way…”

Tony felt a little smile tugging at his lips. This was familiar. This spark of inspiration, flaring into something bigger, triggering a hundred other ideas. This understanding of science, this process of figuring things out, this feeling that came with a technical challenge – this felt safe, and certain, and fundamentally him , even when nothing else about the situation did.

“Do you get the headache before or after it happens?” Tony asked. Bucky blinked at him, amazed. Then he frowned, like he’d just been caught out by a magic trick.

“…Afterwards,” he replied, slowly. “…But I completely forgot to mention that…”

“S’okay, no one ever remembers all the symptoms,” Tony muttered, still focused on filing in his theory. “And the pain, where does it run to?”

“I’m sorry?” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, you said the shock ran up your back – so, it wasn’t running away from your arm?”

“Uh, well, it…” Bucky frowned again, working it out as he spoke. “…It might be both , actually…”

“Like it’s running up along your arm, and running up your spine, and meeting in your shoulder …?” Tony guessed, and then watched the realisation rise up in Bucky’s eyes.

“…Yeah,” he nodded, more openly impressed now. Tony focussed his attention on the joint at Barnes’ shoulder. And he wondered…

“You think you know what it might be?” Steve’s voice broke Tony out of his thoughts. There was such a sweet sincerity in his tone, a softness that Tony responded to before he could stop himself. He liked something about that… And then there was a little jolt inside him – oh yeah, this is the most awkward and uncomfortable situation I’ve ever been in. I was so carried away, I almost forgot.

But it was better to forget. It was better to focus entirely on this one thing he was confident in, and pretend the rest of it just wasn’t happening.  

“I think I know where the problem is. And I don’t think it’s anywhere near where anyone else has been looking…” he spoke to somewhere in Steve’s general vicinity.

“You think the problem is my shoulder?” Bucky queried, sounding sceptical.

“No, actually,” Tony answered. “In fact, I don’t think the problem is in your arm at all.”

Tony saw the flash of genuine fear on Bucky’s face then. The way he looked at Steve, like he was looking for something to hold on to. The almost imperceptible movement as he went to cross his arms and then stopped himself… Like he knew he wasn’t allowed to curl up into a ball. He covered it quickly, straightening his shoulders and rearranging his features into a more stoic look of concern. 

But still, Tony knew. He knew all the ominous thoughts going through Bucky’s mind, all the unnatural ideas that had just flashed up. Tony recognised every part of that reaction, from the panic to the cover-up. He empathised .

You’re remembering the people that did this to you. You hate them for thinking they had the right.

You’re remembering the person you used to be. You’re scared of what you might become.

You’re remembering the people you love. You hate the idea of them hurting for you.

And even now, it was his instinct to tell Bucky, I know what you’re going through. He wanted to tell Bucky his story – or, at least, that still seemed like the obvious thing to do. To share his experience, to talk about the feelings they had in common, to pass on some of the things he’d learned… That was human interaction, wasn’t it? That was the only way two people could talk, even in theory… That was why Tony had cut himself off from the world in the first place. Because he’d realised that it was literally impossible to have a normal conversation, much less any sort of relationship, when he shared so few experiences with people… and whatever experiences he did have, he couldn’t share.

He couldn’t tell Bucky that he understood. He couldn’t share any of the anecdotes or personal lessons that might be relevant right now. He couldn’t even ask Bucky how he was feeling, because he already knew he’d have nothing human to say in response. Tony’s natural inclination to reach out – that fundamental instinct to talk and ask and share – just wasn’t an option anymore. And there were no other options… Not for a real conversation, anyway.

The best he could do was to get through this situation. That was all.

“Okay, there are two types of medical diagnosis,” Tony spoke as quickly as he could, not wanting to drag this out. “There are the ones that sound way worse than they are, and the ones that are way worse than they sound.”

“Please tell me this is the first one,” Bucky commented lightly, like he was trying to make a joke of it.

“First bit of good news,” Tony beamed, theatrically. “It is, in fact, the first one – which is to say, this is going to sound scary, but really isn’t.”

“Okay,” Bucky breathed, subtly bracing his back.

“I think the problem is actually in your brain,” Tony started, carefully – and then, when he saw the flash of alarm on Bucky’s face, he raced to clarify- “But that doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with your brain. It’s not actually anything to do with your brain…”

“Right?” Bucky prompted nervously, as Tony tried to think of a way to explain it.

“Okay, so, you know when a man has a heart attack, he sometimes gets a pain in his left arm?” Tony began, waiting for Bucky to nod before he carried on, “Well, the reason that happens isn’t that there’s anything wrong with the guy’s arm, obviously. Actually, it’s because the pain receptors in your heart and the pain receptors in your arm send signals to the same part of the brain  – so, when they get there, your brain has no idea which part sent it, and therefore which part to make ‘hurt’. It’s called referred pain… But the point is, there isn’t anything ‘wrong’ with your brain then, either. It’s just that it’s the brain that is making it happen…”

“So, it’s a problem somewhere else entirely?” Steve asked from somewhere behind him. Tony made himself think very hard about the issue at hand when he answered.

“I think it’s actually just that your brain doesn’t know how to interpret the signals your arm is sending,” he continued to speak directly to Bucky. “I think this problem requires more reprogramming than it does surgery…”

“…Can you do that?” Bucky asked, cautiously.

Tony felt his stomach drop. He realised, belatedly, that the solution he was merrily putting together would actually take a lot of work… Work that only he could do. Immediately, he panicked that he was just walking himself further into something that he was desperate to get out of. And then – much more unnerving – was the first stirring of an idea… that maybe he didn’t desperately want to get out of this…

But that was wrong. That had to be wrong.

“I don’t know, yet,” he replied, more soberly. Stalling for time, more than anything. He looked back at Barnes’ files, and then at Barnes’ arm, and tried to think of any other generic questions he could ask while he had this existential crisis. “Are there any ways you prefer to do this? Any treatments or procedures that you really don’t like?”

“Not really,” Bucky shrugged. “I mean, I don’t like any of it. But…”

Tony felt a little smile take him by surprise. There was that pang of empathy again. That little flicker of connection, which he was starting to think might just be the experience of talking to other people… it had been so long since he did it. And, right this moment, Tony wasn’t sure he didn’t like it. He might even have missed it-

Which did nothing to help with the confusion he was currently trying to work through.

“Do you prefer to be put out? Or do you prefer to be awake for treatment, if you can?” Tony pressed on.

“I, uh… Well, I hate watching the work being done…” Bucky answered, thoughtfully. Hesitating over something.

“Would you prefer if Captain Rogers was here, if you were under a general anaesthetic?” Tony guessed. It wasn’t until he saw Bucky’s eyes widen optimistically that it dawned on him…

What the fuck did I just say?

And the funny thing was, that suggestion had slipped out so casually because Tony had been trying so hard to think like a professional. He’d been trying to avoid the sudden personal confusion, to think rationally, to focus purely on the problem he was there to fix. 

And, committing entirely to that mindset, the first priority was to consider the perspective of the patient. What personal biology, psychology, history or culture should form the basic assumptions of his approach… He’d thought about Bucky’s experience with HYDRA entirely unemotionally, simply because it seemed relevant. It seemed sensible to consider Bucky’s particular issues with trust, the things that might make specific treatments more difficult for him. Thinking objectively, as a doctor should, Tony had easily recognised that this particular anxiety might be eased, if someone Bucky trusted was in the room with him. It was an obvious way to reduce the downsides of the patients preferred course of treatment…

It was only afterwards that Tony thought to consider his suggestion as a person. To realise that he’d just offered to let Steve Rogers come back the next time-

That he’d just casually accepted that there would be a next time-

“Would that be okay?” Bucky asked quite genuinely, like he was perfectly prepared for the answer to be no…

Oh, but the answer couldn’t be no , could it? He’d said it now. Another very human feeling, another thing he hadn’t felt in twenty years… and still felt so perfectly natural… putting his foot in it. The realisation that he’d already dug himself into a hole that he couldn’t get out of, that now it would be ridiculous to say anything other than,

“If that makes it easier.”

“So, does that mean you… can , treat this?” Steve asked, very cautiously… like he was nervous. Tony didn’t know why that should be immediately endearing – but he wished it wasn’t. He was having quite enough difficulty with that one simple question as it was.

Jesus, just tell them no.

Tell them you can pass this on to an actual doctor.

Tell them you’ll think about it and get back to them.

And then he looked directly at Steve again, for the first time since he’d walked into the room.

…And it wasn’t just that Steve was so pretty.

It was the way Steve was looking at him. The openness in his expression, the vulnerability of his optimism… That little hint of shyness, which seemed so touchingly ordinary, somehow. Tony felt like everything good about human beings was somewhere in that look. Everything he missed about them. And maybe Tony could ignore the sudden urge to reach out to it. After years of practice, Tony could’ve talked himself out of this reaction. He could’ve fought the temptation to say yes ….

But he couldn’t tell Steve no.

It was a completely separate question, and it had nothing to do with what Tony wanted, or what he thought was a good idea. It didn’t matter. The fact was, he just couldn’t look at that face and say no. It would’ve been like kicking a puppy, or swearing at a child – some deeply ingrained function in him rebelled against the very thought. It was irrational. It was ridiculous. But there it was.

“I think so,” Tony managed, his throat suddenly tight. And then Steve smiled , and Tony had to flinch away from it. He was genuinely thankful that it wasn’t possible for him to blush anymore. “I’d have to run some more diagnostic tests, before I could tell you exactly how …”

“Now?” Bucky asked, obligingly.

“Uh, no, not now,” Tony answered immediately. “I’ll have to modify some programmes first… set up some equipment…” Which wasn’t true. Honestly, he wasn’t even thinking about what tests he’d have to run – he was just thinking that he’d like to step out of this ever increasing clusterfuck, please. And then he realised that they were both still looking at him, expectantly.

“Can you come back next week?” Tony pulled from absolutely nowhere.

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Steve agreed, happily. “Same day, time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony surrendered. He heard Steve let go of a heavy breath… relieved. Happy . Tony didn’t know how that made him feel. Mainly, he was concerned that it made him feel anything at all… “You can see yourselves out, right?” He added, somewhat abruptly – neither of them seemed to take it personally.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “…Thank you.”

“It’s…fine,” Tony managed.  

And he managed to retain some sort of composure, as he watched them walk to the elevator. He returned Steve’s little nod of acknowledgement, just before the doors closed behind them. And then suddenly Tony found himself standing in the middle of this suffocating silence, feeling out of place in his own workshop. He didn’t know if he couldn’t believe they’d gone, or if he couldn’t believe they’d ever been here - but something about the situation wasn’t quite fitting in his head. He certainly wasn’t ‘fine’.

The trouble was… Tony had no idea what he was instead.  

Chapter Text

Steve and Bucky were sitting in the breakroom, sharing a few moments of comfortable silence as they cooled down from the morning workout. Bucky was lounging in the easy chair – the one he and Sam were engaged in permanent warfare over – indolently flicking through his phone. Steve was lying flat out on one of the couches, staring up at the ceiling… thinking.

 “Do you think that Stark had figured all that out before we even went there…” he mused. “That maybe that whole appointment was just him… playing it up ?”

“No,” Bucky sighed, wearily, not even bothering to glance up from the screen.

“I just mean… You know, when he asked you when you got a headache, not if you get headaches…Like he already knew…”

“No, I think that was just him working out that I probably get headaches,” Bucky answered, in the same bored tone. Steve felt his cheeks warm as he realised… he was doing it again. He reminded himself that he’d resolved not to talk about Tony Stark anymore.

“Sorry,” he muttered… already thinking of another thing he meant to mention… Bucky rolled his eyes affectionately and put his phone away, sitting up to look at Steve when he asked,

“Do you just not want to go back tomorrow? Because, really, I’m a big boy now – I can turn up for some tests on my own.”

And Steve knew before he even said it that he’d said it at least ten times already. He knew this Tony Stark thing had gone beyond being boring for Bucky and well into being embarrassing for him. He even knew what Bucky was going to say back. But… it was driving him mad. Steve didn’t know why that meeting, or that man, had gotten to him like this – but it had, okay? And there was still this constant barrage of questions that he kept asking himself, this strange feeling of anxiety that built in him, until he felt like he just had to say -

“Are we sure that I’m even invited?” And, as expected, Bucky responded by collapsing back against the easy chair and groaning theatrically.

“Yes”

“You keep just saying yes,” Steve observed, sitting up. “You haven’t actually answered any of my points.”

“Which are?” Bucky exhaled, exasperated.

“He did specifically say that I could be there if you were under a general anaesthetic,” Steve reminded him. “Not that I should be there every time you turned up. In fact, since he – pointedly – didn’t even look at me the whole time I was there, I get the impression he doesn’t want me there. I mean, he even answered my questions directly to you.”

“Okay, point number one – what do you mean , he didn’t look at you the whole time you were there?” Bucky sat up again, an exaggerated frown on his face. “You both just stood and stared at each other for a full minute when we first arrived.”

“No, we walked in and Stark gave me a strange look,” Steve corrected, tetchily. They’d discussed ‘the look’, several times, and Steve had already made it clear that he wasn’t counting that. Bucky just rolled his eyes again, and gave up on that line of conversation.

“And, point number two, I think he would have specifically said if he didn’t want you to be there,” he went on, instead.

“Not if I just leapt in and invited myself-”

“Yeah, Steve, because if there’s one thing Tony Stark is bad at, it’s telling people he doesn’t want them at his house,” Bucky cut in, sarcastically. Steve dropped his shoulders and gave an abashed little nod, yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. “But, like I say, if you don’t want to go-”

“No, of course I’m going to go,” Steve muttered, lying flat out on the couch again. He promised himself that he was going to stop talking about this. He was going to stop thinking about it. He was .

And then he glanced up, and saw that Bucky had him fixed with a wry look, one eyebrow raised.

“I just… don’t like him,” Steve sighed. Bucky narrowed his eyes, but before he could comment, Steve carried on, “I know I should just be happy that he can fix it – I am happy we found someone who can fix it. And I know he’s not as big an ass as everyone else we’ve seen, so, you know, it’s really not a big deal-”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky deadpanned, and Steve pointedly ignored it,

“-I just… I don’t know, I find him uncomfortable to be around, or something.”

“Uncomfortable,” Bucky repeated, with the smallest of smiles.

“I don’t know,” Steve groaned. He really had to get off this one topic-

And then Bucky commented, casually,

“He’s hot, though.”

And Steve felt his jaw clench involuntarily, hard enough that it made his teeth ache. He’d almost said, well, obviously . He wasn’t sure what made him so reluctant to say that, actually, given that he’d been so eager to talk about Tony Stark all week…

Maybe it was simply that it had made him so uncomfortable at the time.

He had just been so… surprised, when he saw Tony. Steve wasn’t exactly proud of it, but if he was perfectly honest with himself… he had been preparing himself for something else entirely. Well, he’d had no idea what to prepare for, but he realised now that he’d been thinking in completely the wrong direction. 

And, in Steve’s defence, that was mostly because there were so many rumours about Tony Stark. A lot of it was just Steve remembering the things other people said, rather than coming up with these ideas himself. That Tony Stark was been horribly scarred in some sort of accident, that Tony Stark had spent the last twenty years modifying his body, that he had some sort of wasting disease… And Steve had known it was all very unkind and very unlikely and that it shouldn’t have factored into his impression of Tony Stark one way or the other – but, yeah, maybe it had laid some sort of subconscious bias. Steve might even have thought he was being considerate, at the time. Reminding himself that he had no idea what Tony’s story was, that he had no right to judge him, that obviously it didn’t matter what Stark looked like…

But he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Tony Stark might be the most stunning man who’d ever lived.

And now that Bucky had made that throwaway comment, Steve found himself picturing Tony’s face again… those big, dark eyes looking up at him through those impossible lashes… Steve knew he’d stared at Tony for far too long. He actually preferred to think that Stark had given him a strange look, rather than think that maybe he’d started it. That maybe Tony was just responding to the strange look Steve had given him …

Steve got that same uncomfortable, tight feeling in his ribs. He didn’t know if he was remembering it, or if he just felt like that every time he thought of Tony – but he was sure he didn’t like it..

“And doesn’t he know it,” Steve answered, acerbically. And Bucky just smiled, knowingly,

“You know, for a guy you don’t like that much…You talk about him a lot.”

Steve felt the blood rush to his face. Obviously, they both knew Steve had been talking about him a lot. It wasn’t like either of them were pretending otherwise – it was perfectly clear in the apologetic way Steve started each little rant, and the fondly impatient way that Bucky responded. But neither of them had said it yet. Steve hadn’t had to acknowledge or deny or explain or defend this impulse, before now.

“I just know this is going to be important, is all,” he muttered, weakly. Bucky pursed his lips sceptically, and Steve’s blush deepened, because, yeah – they both knew that was total garbage.

“Uh huh. It’s got nothing to do with you being painfully horny, right now?”

“No,” Steve answered – far too quickly. “And, anyway, I’m not going to fuck your new doctor. Not after it took us this long to find someone.”

“You should fuck my new doctor,” Bucky snorted.

“ You should fuck my new doctor,” Steve shot back, mindlessly – the sort of exchange they’d shared since grade school. The sort of thing he’d never say to anyone else, but had simply never stopped staying around Bucky.

“Maybe I will,” Bucky teased.

And, how about that – Steve really didn’t like it.

There was an instant and undeniable pang of… well, panic. There wasn’t really another word for it. The idea that maybe Bucky did like Tony-

But then Steve looked up at Bucky, and saw that he was joking.

“What? Jealous?” Bucky asked, shrewdly.

“I don’t care who else you fuck,” Steve muttered back – deliberately misinterpreting him.

“I know you don’t care who I fuck,” Bucky answered. “Otherwise you wouldn’t like Nat. Or Sam.”

“When did you fuck Sam?” Steve frowned at him.

“Well, I’m going to fuck Sam,” Bucky clarified, dismissively, same difference.

Steve groaned at him, affectionately – suddenly glad of the change in conversation.

*

Tony was also lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling… thinking .

He’d flopped out on the couch because he had to. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he’d last sat down, and even an undead body has its limits. Limits he might have tried to push through, even now, if he could’ve thought of anything to push ahead with…

Up until now, Tony had channelled this anxiety into work. He hadn’t thought about why he couldn’t eat and had barely slept and had difficulty sitting still. He’d just considered it as even more time to spend on his project, and focused all of his mental energy onto that.  As a result, he’d had the most creative and prolific week of his life. The workshop was still strewn with models he’d mocked up, his server was full of notes and experiment results and theory – some of which might represent significant breakthroughs for medical science as a whole.

But now, having contemplated every possible approach to Soviet military history and quasi-organic biology and complex neurological theory, Tony was forced to conclude that he had run out of diversions. There was nothing left to distract him from the aching fatigue in his back or the dull pounding of his head…

Or that restless, nagging feeling – and all the reasons behind it.

To begin with, it was just a flood of mental images that Tony couldn’t fight anymore. Flashes from that first awkward meeting. Visions of the next one going just as badly. The memory of those perfect blue eyes, just looking at him like that… Tony rubbed his face, irritably, and tried to at least put it all into some sort of order. Instinctively starting with the practical considerations, thinking that would be less painful, somehow.

Not that the practical considerations were in any way comforting. Having analysed every aspect of Bucky’s treatment, Tony had been forced to conclude that, yes, he could fix this thing – but it was going to take weeks. There was just no getting around the fact that Bucky would need time to heal between procedures, that his body would need time to adapt to the changes and learn the new programming. However efficient Tony was, however successful each individual session, it was still going to mean asking them to come back… again and again.

Which means hundreds of chances for me to slip up.

It means so many opportunities for other people to use this as an in.

It makes it more likely they’ll get associated with me, and that might make them a target.

But Tony wasn’t really considering those problems; just listing them. Honestly, he couldn’t see the benefit in trying to fix any of them. The whole situation felt like a wall of water headed right for him – there seemed little point in thinking about pulling his hood up or tucking his pants into his socks. Ultimately, this was a dangerous situation that he had no hope of getting out of. Tinkering around the edges and trying to safeguard against minor risks just sounded frustrating.  

And none of that was causing the queasy stomach-ache anyway.

These should have been Tony’s real concerns. He wanted them to be his real concerns. He was literally trying to convince himself that these were the real problems, these were the things that worried him… All because he didn’t want to think about what had actually given him indigestion all week.

The fact that he might like someone.

The fact that he might want someone.

The fact that he couldn’t have anything, from anyone – and all the reasons why he couldn’t.

Tony groaned and collapsed further into the couch. He so didn’t want to tumble into the emotional, existential issues behind all this. He’d avoided those questions for at least ten years – because they were always painful, and they were always pointless. And so much more complicated than they sounded. The question, why do I like this stranger? might be a harmless little diversion, for anyone else. The question, do I want to see him again? could be answered with a simple, hey, why not? Let’s see where it goes . But for Tony to even think about that much, he’d have to think about what he could have from other people, and why, and why not and-

And this was why he didn’t bother thinking about this stuff anymore.

But… He wanted to see Steve again. There was just no unknowing that fact. He wasn’t sure why he liked Steve so much. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping would happen, the next time they met. He couldn’t think of one actual reason it was a good idea to see him again. But, apparently, the answers to those questions didn’t really matter. Tony wanted to see him again anyway.  

And he knew he should try and talk himself out of that, or make some effort to understand it, or at least try to prepare himself for it… but he couldn’t bear to think about it. He didn’t want to think about everything he missed, and what might happen if he made one little change, and what he could hypothetically have with Steve… Because then he’d have to remember why he couldn’t have any of those things, and why he couldn’t make any of those changes…

Why he couldn’t have Steve, or anyone, ever.

Tony didn’t want to spend the whole evening going through exactly why his life was so shit. He didn’t want to suffer through a specific list of things he could never have, he didn’t want to have to think about why he wanted those things so badly. He preferred being able to take that for granted, to never have to look directly at it… to not think about it at all.

His phone buzzed softly in his pocket.

It took Tony a few seconds to focus on the text, his eyes were so weary by now. A message from Rhodey, sent from halfway around the world: So, how did it go then? Tony just stared at it for a moment. And then there was the very first stirring of an idea…

Something about how Pepper must’ve told him…

That it somehow fit into Tony’s theory about her having an agenda…

But his thoughts were too sluggish right now to push that train of thought out of the station. So, Tony let it dissolve into nothing, and tried instead to think about how to answer that text…

God, that was an exhausting prospect.

Tony briefly considered avoiding the question. Replying with details about Barnes’ treatment, saying that he wouldn’t know until he had a closer look at the data… But almost immediately he recognised that there wasn’t any point. He knew exactly what Rhodey was really asking, and he knew that Rhodey knew he knew. If he was going to try palming Rhodey off with a non-answer, he might as well just not reply at all.

Then he considered just not replying at all – especially as his exhaustion was closing in on him at a rapidly increasing pace. He knew Rhodey wouldn’t take it personally. Probably wouldn’t think anything of it…

But Tony did kind of want to tell him.

There was something exhilarating about the drama of this. Even the anxiety and the angst felt strangely compelling. Real. Human . As awful as all this was, part of him actually liked it.

But, Jesus, he had no way of explaining that. Not over text – not when he was this tired. ‘Part of me likes how much I hate this’ made no sense whatsoever, even to him.

And ‘I think I like someone’ would only lead to a thousand other questions that Tony couldn’t answer. Probably a hundred well-meaning suggestions that Tony couldn’t possibly act on. God Bless Rhodey and his eternal optimism that Tony might one day be able to make a single step back into the world… But Tony wasn’t in the mood for it right now. He winced at the very thought of Rhodey suggesting he ask for Steve’s number, or pointing out that it was healthy to like people, or any of his usual encouragement. Tony didn’t want to have to argue with it. He didn’t want to have to think about it.

Arg. His eyes hurt. His head hurt. His heart hurt.

He thought about just saying that Steve was hot. He even made a few false starts, typing and deleting the same opening three times before he recognised… No, he just wasn’t comfortable with that. He had no idea why, but that just felt… cheap.

Then he typed, I think I have made a terrible mistake – and deleted it. He knew if he sent that Rhodey would call him, and by now he was so tired that he didn’t think he could physically form words.

I have no fucking idea , he managed eventually – crashing out into sleep while he was still pressing ‘send’.

*

Steve didn’t think about dinner until ten o’clock that night.

He’d spent the entire evening in his office, making sure all of his paperwork was up-to-date and getting a head start on next week’s workload. Wanting to make sure that he was as free as he could possibly be for their appointment tomorrow – that there would be no reason for someone to phone him, nothing he might be called back into the office to deal with… No reason for anyone to ask where he was on Friday night.  

All of which had seemed very sensible back when he started, four hours ago. Steve had really believed he was simply doing some necessary preparation, being as organised as he would usually be – that he wasn’t thinking anything more about it than that. Until he started running out of things to do. Then, slowly, he began to recognise that maybe this whole thing had been driven by more than a sense of duty… That maybe he was just a little bit anxious.

He sighed, and straightened the items on his desk for the third time. He felt himself blushing, all alone at his desk, as he acknowledged the adrenaline that had been flooding through him since this time last week. The abundance of energy that he just knew was something to do with Tony Stark. He didn’t know what it was about Stark, how Tony had gotten under his skin like this or why he should care so much… But, suddenly, Steve could see exactly what he’d been doing all evening. Trying to eat up the time until he saw Tony again, trying to do something with the excess of excitement – trying to find something he could control in the midst of this confusing situation.

And, of course, once Steve realised what he was doing, he realised it wouldn’t work. That no amount of paperwork would make him feel any more prepared, or any more in control – or any less anxious. That nothing he did tonight would make tomorrow come any quicker. That he wouldn’t feel any more relaxed right now, however much admin he got done.

Because the truth was that he was really wound up about seeing Tony Stark again.

Steve groaned softly, and let his head fall back… His neck ached in a muted protest, and he realised he’d been sitting in the same position for far too long. He decided he would take a break before he began an entirely new mental challenge. He’d go and get something to eat before he confronted his strange new obsession with Stark.

Again, all very sensible – but a person’s subconscious never pays attention to such logical plans.

You should fuck my new doctor, he remembered, in Bucky’s voice, before he’d even finished standing up. He tried to ignore it. He tried to tell himself, later .

Uh huh. It’s got nothing to do with you being painfully horny, right now. And, before Steve could shut it down again, the immediate observation that…

Bucky might’ve had a point about that issue.

Steve gave up on any pretence that he was going to stop thinking about it, as he turned off the office light, and locked the door behind him. He was somewhat reassured by the thought that it might not be anything about Tony Stark, per se. That maybe it was simply because Stark was attractive, and Steve was currently in a place where any attractive stranger would spark some sort of reaction in him. And, okay, the thought that maybe he was so physically lonely that he’d started fixating on total strangers… wasn’t exactly a comfort. But, for some reason, it better than thinking that he had a specific issue with Tony.

And… yeah. Steve did miss physical intimacy, and he was unbearably frustrated – and it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that issue before Tony Stark came into the picture. Steve had been trying to ignore it, sure. He’d tried to convince himself it was a minor issue, in the grand scheme of things… But, okay, he was painfully horny right now.

And it wasn’t just the effects of the serum. Yeah, the fact that all of his biological processes had been enhanced added a layer of complexity. It meant that Steve felt physical urges more strongly than other people, that he had certain… needs , now. It meant that certain impulses had been sharpened to painful, bodily necessities. But the arrangement he had with Bucky basically took care of that. And his relationship with Bucky was… fine. Steve didn’t have any concerns about the things they did for one another or the way it fit into everything else they were… It was just everything his relationship with Bucky couldn’t be. It was the other things that Steve missed.

The sexual side of his relationship with Bucky was entirely functional. Something that had developed naturally, when they both found themselves stranded on the front with the same serum-enhanced sex-drive. Because they both shared a basic need, and because they knew each other and trusted each other and loved each other in a way that nothing could complicate. But they weren’t lovers. They’d always understood that, in the same wordless way they understood everything about each other. This wasn’t a relationship based on a romantic spark or a genuine excitement. There wasn’t the thrill of attraction or the fun of flirtation or the genuine intimacy you could share with someone you were in love with. Steve recognised that he really wasn’t jealous when Bucky had sex with other people… and that, maybe, he’d like there to be someone in his life that he could be a little bit jealous of. Or anxious to impress. Or excited about seeing. Or something.

It wasn’t like this, back in the forties. Back when Steve still had a real life, when there was still the chance of an exciting encounter with someone. The USO girls that he’d shared one special night with, or the women he had fleeting romances with while the Commandos were camped out in little French villages, or the men he stole illicit moments with in dark alleys. Moments when Steve had felt like a sexual being, and not just someone completing the function of sex. Moments when Steve wanted, and felt wanted. Moments he felt alive .

But since he’d woken up in the future, everything was different. Steve had enough trouble working out how to talk to anyone at first, much less talking about that . It had taken him so long to figure out the language and the culture and the norms of the 21st Century, especially in the months before he even had any friends to talk to.

And then Steve found out about the Hydra occupation of SHIELD, and Bucky… And sex had fallen well down the list of priorities. Steve had even actively pushed it down that list, because it felt like one of the frivolous things he should be immediately disinterested in, when something important was happening.

But… Bucky had found his way in this modern world well enough to have a sex life, by now. That fact made it much harder for Steve to pretend that he was putting ‘all that’ to one side because of what had happened. Steve had to accept that Bucky didn’t really need him to put his whole life on hold anymore... Which meant Steve probably had to accept that he had his own, full blown issue with sex, now.

And it was an issue. Steve avoided thinking about it to the point that he really didn’t know what the issue was, exactly. But he knew that he missed sex and still couldn’t bring himself to think about actually having a sex life. He knew that the prospect of doing any of the things he wanted to do also made him feel slightly seasick. He knew that he was avoiding thinking about it, and that meant something in and of itself.

And, yeah, all of this was a headache… But, on the plus side, maybe this was why he was so consumed by Tony Stark. It would be nice to be able to explain that much, at least. Why Steve should find himself picturing Tony’s face all the time, without warning, and for no reason. Why he should be so confused by his own reaction – after all, if Steve weren’t poised to leap on every attractive stranger, he probably would’ve been happy to file Tony under ‘annoying but okay’ and moved on with his life. It was just that basic, shallow , part of him that was making Stark into anything more than that.

… Did he mean ‘annoying’? Steve wasn’t sure that Stark was annoying . Stark was… Well, he was-

Steve was shocked out of his train of thought when he found Nat and Sam just standing in the breakroom. They looked up at him in unison, and then glanced at each other. Steve felt himself bracing for something before he could process what he was looking at.

“Oh, hey – didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, automatically. The breakroom was generally deserted after six in the evening, when everyone migrated up to the bar… Had they been waiting for him?

“Could say the same to you.” Nat observed, a smile hidden somewhere in her voice. “You working late?”

Belatedly, Steve recognised the way they’d looked at him. The same subtle heaviness in the tone that Nat was using. They might not have been ‘waiting for him’, but they definitely wanted to talk to him… About something they’d discussed in advance, something they were building to-

Oh, they were obviously going to ask-

“And did you actually meet Tony Stark?” Sam burst in excitedly, ignoring the look Nat shot him for ruining her run up. Steve felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Immediately, knew that he didn’t want to talk about it. That he wished they hadn’t asked.

Suddenly, Steve wasn’t sure how much of this arrangement was a secret. Whether Tony would expect him to conceal even the fact that they’d met-

“Too slow,” Nat sighed. “So, you did meet Tony Stark.”

 Steve wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or mortified that she could read him so well.

“No comment,” he smiled, purposefully striding past them, toward the refrigerator.

“You don’t really think you’re going to get away with that,” Nat commented casually.

“Seriously, you met Tony Stark ,” Sam added, incredulously. “Tony Stark turned down an invitation from Elon Musk. He flat out ignored Rupert Murdoch – he said no to Oprah! ” He threw his hands out, in an attempt to illustrate the size of his point.

“Still no comment,” Steve sighed, pulling a carton of yesterday’s Chinese takeout from the back of the fridge.

“Okay, so just answer me this one question,” Nat suggested, taking a step closer to him. “Is he a creep?”

Steve’s spine straightened up from under him. He felt an instant stab of adrenaline, a hot prickle of irritation over his skin.

“Meaning?” He asked, a bit too sharply.

“I mean , is he actually like, a serial killer the government has under house arrest?” Nat clarified, unaffected. “Or has he literally replaced all his limbs with robot parts – you know, the really far out rumours?”

“No, he’s not a creep,” Steve replied, coldly, putting the carton down onto the kitchen counter.

And then he just… carried on talking.

“Actually, he’s probably the most human person that Bucky has spoken to since we started this whole thing. He’s the only person who bothered to ask what sort of treatment Bucky preferred – he’s the first person to ask Bucky what he thinks about anything at all, really. And he’s the first person who seems to really know what he’s talking about…” And, at last, Steve realised what he was doing – too late to have any chance of covering it up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Nat said, all too knowingly.

“You didn’t,” Steve replied, trying to sound nonchalant – and failing. “You wanted to know what he’s like, so… he’s nice.” He admitted, awkwardly. “He’s smart. He seems pretty normal.”

“Pretty normal?” Nat asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t exactly know him,” Steve clarified, turning his attention back to the carton of take out, just so that he could look away from them. “I’m just saying, having met him briefly… No, none of the really wild rumours are true.” And out of the corner of his eye he saw them share a conspiratorial little glance.

“So, are you going to see him again?” Nat questioned, as Steve was putting his food into the microwave. And, instinctively Steve knew – if he said yes, she’d want to know why he was going to see Tony Stark again. Why Bucky couldn’t just go on his own. Even if she didn’t ask him, she’d want to know… And Steve felt uncomfortable with that question being out there at all.

“No comment,” he repeated. And he remembered, you don’t really think you’re going to get away with that? He set his shoulders instinctively, mentally preparing himself for further interrogation-

“Okay,” Nat shrugged. Steve looked up at her before he could think to stop himself, regretting it as soon as he met her eyes. Suddenly, he felt naked. “Well, we were actually just about to head up to the bar, so, if you’re done with working late, you should come and join us.”

Steve just nodded, miserably, forcing himself to at least look in their general direction as they left the room. As soon as they disappeared from view, he heard Sam pipe up, but seriously though, you know Tony Stark legit turned down an audience with The Pope? You know Lady Gaga said she’d perform a private show for him… Steve smiled in spite of himself, as Sam’s tirade faded down the corridor. Then he heard the microwave ping cheerfully beside him, and turned to give his meal an unimpressed glare.

He’d completely lost his appetite.

Chapter Text

“Colonel Rhodes to see you, sir.”

Tony woke up with a start, feeling as though he was right in the middle of something. It took him a second to work out that he’d been dreaming…

Something about… looking for something, or running from something… He couldn’t remember. And then JARVIS, talking to him-

“Sir?”

Oh, that part had been real.

“Colonel Rhodes said what?” He groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Colonel Rhodes is at the door, sir,” JARVIS clarified, patiently.

“Oh, right, let him in then,” Tony answered on autopilot, still trying to get his bearings. He was briefly confused, thinking that Rhodey was supposed to be in Europe – but then he worked out that, obviously, that was hours ago. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty-seven am, Sir,” JARVIS replied, and then pre-empted the next question. “You fell asleep just after ten last night.”

Tony winced, as he rolled his head and shook out his arms. It certainly felt like he’d been lying in the same position for ten hours. He’d done it often enough to be able to judge these things. This was the dazed sluggishness that came after he’d worked way beyond his own limits, and then slept for far too long afterwards. The painful stiffness that only happened when he’d slept deeply enough to stay completely still. The dry thickness in his head that he only got after ten solid hours in bed. Or, on the couch – hence the particular aches and pains he was gingerly trying to stretch out.

…He wasn’t sure about the anxiety, though.

The nagging, I’ve forgotten something feeling… Or the I’ve done something terrible feeling…Or not quite either of those things… But, something -

Rhodey strolled out of the elevator while Tony was still trying to work it out.

“Rough night?” He commented, looking Tony up and down. Tony threw him a playful glare as he smoothed down yesterday’s t-shirt.

“Big project. Worked too long. Slept too long,” he shorthanded, running a hand through his hair. He knew that Rhodey had seen him do this enough times to know exactly what he was talking about.

But it was only as he said it that Tony remembered what he was talking about – what the ‘big project’ was. What the anxiety was. The thing he’d forgotten, the mistake he’d made, the thing he’d been fretting over when he finally crashed out last night. Maybe even the thing he’d been dreaming about. He still didn’t remember anything about it, but now that he thought of it… it just felt like maybe he was dreaming about Steve…

“So, are you going to tell me about it then?” Rhodey demanded, like he could read Tony’s mind. Tony screwed his face up and shook his head.

“Coffee first,” he answered, firmly.

Rhodey huffed impatiently, and then gestured towards the little kitchenette area, go on then, quick. Tony felt the oddest urge to smile at that. There was something… novel , about Rhodey wanting to hear gossip from him. Something that felt kind of fun, in the first instance-

But, by the time Tony had made it over to the coffee pot, he’d remembered why it was complicated. The smile became a vaguely irritated frown as all his many issues tried to crowd into his head at once. He told himself that he had to get a grip, and sort all of this out, and think about it properly –

“You’re stalling,” Rhodey called out. Tony sighed, and finally poured two coffees.

“No need to be impertinent, darling,” he called back, hesitating just a few seconds longer – even though he knew it made no sense. That an extra minute wouldn’t make any difference, that he was going to have to talk about it right now, as much as he didn’t want to. Or tell Rhodey he didn’t want to talk about it, which seemed almost as uncomfortable…

But then there was that little tug again. That strange feeling that he kind of… wanted, to talk about it?

And Tony just knew this was one of those things that would be sad, if he really thought about it. Like any of the little things he found to smile about; the positive news stories and the progress of the Avengers and the things that went right for Rhodey and Pepper… Things that could only make him happy if he didn’t stop to analyse them. If he didn’t let himself get as far as thinking that he’d never have it for himself, that he couldn’t really be a part of anything, that no one would ever know what made him smile.

Somewhere, he already knew it was sad to get all excited because he got to play human for a moment. All the things that he thought would be fun became uncomfortable, when there was nowhere for him to go with them.

But, if he didn’t think about it…

“So, what happened?” Rhodey insisted, when Tony finally got to handing him his mug.

“Pepper bullied me into it,” Tony began with a sigh, and then flopped on to the other end of the couch.

“How?” Rhodey frowned, sceptically.

“I don’t know,” Tony groaned, rubbing his eyes again. “ She asked me to see him. It wasn’t like she just said, Bucky Barnes has asked to see you, and here’s why . She said she thought it was a good idea, and, I don’t know… I probably should have put up more of a fight…” he trailed off, and then took a sip of his coffee.

“Why, what went wrong?” Rhodey’s frown deepened.

“Nothing, yet, ” Tony groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “But this is as stupid an idea as it’s ever been, for all the same reasons it always was-”

“So, you’re not done with them yet?” Rhodey interrupted him.

“Well, this is one of the many burdens that comes with great genius,” Tony announced, theatrically. “Unfortunately, I have figured out how to fix this problem, and I am the only person who could possibly fix this problem – and it’s going to take weeks. So, no, I’m not done with this yet. Unless you can think of any way for me to weasel out of it?” He glanced back at Rhodey, hopefully.

“You want to weasel out of this…?” Rhodey asked, raising his eyebrows.

Tony felt that pressure building in his chest again. The struggle to find the right words, the resistance to saying any of them out loud. That same nameless conflict he’d been wrestling with all week… that strange feeling that he didn’t want the things he wanted.

He wanted to talk about this, and he didn’t want to talk about this.

He wanted to help Bucky, and he didn’t want to help Bucky.

He wanted to tell Steve not to come back – and he really, really didn’t want that.

“I should weasel out of this,” Tony muttered, dropping his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said yes in the first place-”

“So, you don’t want to weasel out of this?” Rhodey pressed. Tony felt his jaw tighten.

“I mean, I want to help,” he sighed. “And, obviously, I don’t want to tell Pepper I won’t do literally the one thing she’s asked for in the last twenty years. And I don’t want to tell Barnes, sorry, you’re fucked . And I don’t want to tell Steve that his friend is fucked. And, all together, I really wish there was literally anyone else who could do something about this.”

“Steve?” Rhodey questioned, with an interested little smile. It took Tony a second to recognise his own slip up – and then he kicked himself.

“Rogers. I know Pepper told you all about it,” Tony bit out, suddenly feeling very exposed. Only just realising that he had been calling Captain Rogers ‘Steve’ all week…

“Only the boring bit,” Rhodey commented. “Other than Tony had people over on Friday , which was incredibly interesting – after that she only gave me the technical details.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Tony told him, still wincing at the phrase Tony had people over. “And, anyway – the technical details are not the boring bit. The project itself is actually really interesting. You know, technically , I’m attempting to design, program and integrate a secondary spinal cord? Well, no, that’s not a good metaphor-”

“And this is not the interesting bit.” Rhodey groaned.

“So, what’s the interesting bit?” Tony surrendered, even though he already knew.

“Okay, so, what are they like?” Rhodey started, excitedly.

“Well, I mostly spoke to Barnes” Tony shrugged – fighting that same urge to smile. “I don’t know, he seems nice. Quiet, and not-nosy, which, you know, are qualities I value… I think he’s actually scared to death of this problem, I think it creeps him out. Which I get, so, mainly I feel sorry for him.”

“And Steve ?” Rhodey went on far too quickly – and Tony knew he hadn’t managed to answer quickly enough.

“He was okay,” Tony said eventually, his voice stiff. “Also quiet…pretty sure he didn’t like me. I don’t know… I’m thinking maybe that I should just ask Bucky to come on his own next time…”

“So, you didn’t say that already?” Rhodey frowned at him.

“…I didn’t say, specifically, one way or the other,” Tony replied, carefully.

He saw Rhodey bite back a little smile.

“So, you like him then?” Rhodey asked outright.

Yes .

“I… don’t even know him” Tony managed, with difficulty. “I couldn’t tell you anything about him. He just – stood there.”

Which wasn’t even a lie.

Tony wasn’t even sure why he did like Steve. Other than the laughably shallow reason that Steve was very pretty…

Or the uncomfortably irrational reason that Tony had felt something in the way Steve looked at him…

And he couldn’t explain that. He couldn’t explain that to himself , much less Rhodey…

It was illogical. Ridiculous. Dangerous .

“But, I don’t know, it’s still probably better if I keep it to as few people as possible.” Tony shrugged – which wasn’t a lie, either. “Especially if he’s going to just stand there-”

“But you like him.” Rhodey cut in, an exaggerated confusion on his face…

“I just told you, I don’t know-”

“Tony, I’m not asking you if you like him” Rhodey informed him, confidently. “I know you. I’m telling you – you like him.”

“Well, if you know so much, you want to explain to me why I like him?” Tony huffed.

“So, you like him, but you don’t know why you like him?” Rhodey summarised, and Tony laughed in spite of himself.

“Ah, if only things were ever that simple…” he smiled, sadly. He saw the little flicker of genuine concern behind Rhodey’s eyes – or, even worse, sympathy – and immediately he rushed to put his armour back up.

“Okay, I will admit – he is very pretty” Tony conceded, forcing his voice into a lighter, more conversational tone. “And I am somewhat starved of physical attention, and, yeah… Maybe I have an entirely superficial little crush. But him being the prettiest of all the people I’ve met in the last ten years doesn’t really mean much, does it? And it’s not a good reason to like him – if you think about it, I don’t really like him, I just think I do, because I’m attracted to him. Possibly very attracted to him. Which I shouldn’t be. And wouldn’t be, if I weren’t a recluse, and a total clusterfuck of a person.”

“Okay, no one is denying that you’re a total clusterfuck of a person,” Rhodey delivered it completely straight, which made Tony laugh again. “But liking someone because they’re pretty is not the reason. I know it’s been a while since you met any, but lots of people get that. And, I mean – is it just that?” And he looked at Tony, expectantly.

And Tony knew the answer was no. It wasn’t just that. There was something about Steve Rogers, something in the way he looked at Tony or the way he looked out for Bucky or the fact that he was the one person to get this far in the first place. Some nameless quality that existed in the way Steve held himself, something Tony couldn’t quite see… but he could feel .

Something he couldn’t explain.

“There isn’t anything else,” Tony said instead. “That’s what I’m telling you – I really don’t know anything about him. I don’t know if he’s smart, or funny, or aggressive, or, I don’t know, he could be a white supremacist, for all I know.”

“He’s Captain America,” Rhodey reminded him, in the same deadpan tone. “He’s literally the anti-Hitler”

“…Okay, probably not a white supremacist,” Tony accepted with a self-aware little smile. “But you get my point. I don’t know him. In fact, the only thing I can really tell you is that he’s bad at small talk. And sort of uncomfortable to be around – and, if you think about it, kinda pushy. So, you know, he’s probably not even that likeable…” But he was increasingly aware of a dirty feeling crawling over his skin while he said this.

A very basic part of him didn’t enjoy badmouthing Steve.

“Okay, but, counter-point” Rhodey suggested, “What if it turns out that he is actually smart, or funny, or kind – and just kind of bad at small talk. What if, when you get past that, it’s not so uncomfortable to be around him? What then?”

Tony felt it weighing down on him, cold and heavy. That awareness he was always running from, that thing he never wanted to think about – the place he really hadn’t wanted to go with this one, he realised now. He didn’t know why, but confronting the reality of this situation felt even more painful than reality usually did.

There was the first stirring of resentment in him then, a prickle of resistance that could have flared up into anger – except that this was Rhodey he was talking to. Rhodey had been his best friend since before Tony was turned. He was the person who’d refused to be shut out, the person who’d been the exact same friend to Tony since they were both freshmen at MIT. Tony could never muster the heat of genuine anger for Rhodey-

Which only left the cold, empty sadness.

“Well, maybe we get talking, and we make each other laugh, and we enjoy each other’s company…” Tony began, his voice heavy and resigned. And then he fixed Rhodey with a serious look, and asked, “What then? What, he comes to visit me here, like a companion for me, or something? How long before he gets bored of that, do you think? This one room, and me with no stories to tell him, because I haven’t been anywhere, and the things I’ve been doing here are gross and disturbing? Do you think I should pretend I’m not a vampire, or tell him all about the blood drinking and watch him try not to flinch. Or worse – smile .” He literally shuddered as that final thought occurred to him.

There was nothing in the world that Tony hated more than vampire fetishists. Well, except Obie-

No.

Tony wouldn’t let himself remember that night. The night Obie decided for him that he should be a vampire… Even when Tony was contemplating the consequences of it, or lamenting the unfairness of it, or living with the hatred he still undeniably felt because of it, Tony still didn’t think back to the source of it. Ever. When the occasional flash occurred to him, like a sudden stab wound to his soul, he always flinched away from it. Thought his way around it, acknowledged it without actually thinking about it, shut his brain down completely – whatever it took to avoid going back there. Just knowing it was in his head somewhere was enough to coat Tony’s tongue with a bitter taste.

And the idea that there were people who got off on that – that there were people who objectified and sexualised the worst thing that could possibly happen to anyone-

The idea of Steve being one of those people…

No.

“So, yeah, he’s either going to hate that I’m a vampire, or he’s not – and the second one is worse,” Tony bit out, feeling increasingly weighed down by all of this. “So, either he’ll run a mile when he finds out, or I’ll kick him out because he didn’t – or I just have to lie to him, and then we’re not talking about anything, are we? And , he ends up at a much bigger risk, being associated with me – you know that.”

And he paused to look at Rhodey, and waited for Rhodey to nod a reluctant acknowledgment. Tony didn’t like to think about how many people had targeted Rhodey, spied on Rhodey, attempted to blackmail or bribe or intimidate Rhodey, all because they wanted to get access to him . Because Tony’s self-imposed isolation made him so much more interesting to everyone – and made Rhodey interesting to some especially heartless people.

Tony hated that he did that to Rhodey, and to Pepper. He didn’t want to do it to anyone else.

“It seems a lot to put on the line, to have an awkward conversation, in the same basement, with someone who has nothing to say,” Tony sighed, “And, you know, the fact that I am attracted to him, and nothing can happen – I mean, we’re in the middle of why a simple conversation can’t happen, so obviously nothing more can happen – and that’s not going to be fun, is it? For either of us, probably…” He just trailed off, exhausted by the whole thing.

Rhodey left a little pause. Then he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, obviously gearing up for an in depth response.

“Okay, but, what about,” he began, with gravitas. “ If , he came back, and you did make each other laugh, and you did enjoy each other’s company – and then: ” And Rhodey paused again for emphasis, raising his hands in a dramatic gesture before he added, “that’s it .”

Tony blinked at him.

“That’s it?”

“Then you would have just had a couple of interesting, funny conversations, right?” Rhodey pointed out.

“And then?” Tony asked, weary now.

“And then you go back to doing this,” Rhodey gestured to the chaos of the workshop. “Except, this time – it’s after an interesting, funny conversation.”

“Seems like a lot of risk, for an interesting conversation” Tony muttered.

“Again though – he’s Captain America.” Rhodey reminded him. Tony rolled his eyes, and drained his coffee cup. He felt like he should have a lot of arguments to throw back at that… but, honestly, he was more interested in being convinced by what Rhodey was saying.

And what Rhodey just said wasn’t a particularly compelling reason… But Tony so wanted a reason…

“Look, Tony,” Rhodey went on gently, when Tony didn’t say anything. “I know there’s a lot of things you think you can’t have. And – I’m not going to get into that argument again, I promise. But… with everything else you do, it’s only about making it better . I know it’s not about making things perfect, because you never think anything is perfect. You’re always looking for a way to make things that bit better than they were – making other people’s lives that bit happier, or easier, or healthier, even if you can’t help the fact that they’re suffering in the long run. You spent all that time developing better hospital beds, just so that people could still sit themselves up and look out of a window, even when they could barely move. You put all that money into the Injured Troops programme, just so there was more that people could do, whatever they couldn’t do. And you never asked, what’s the point ? You never said, why bother sitting yourself up, if you still need a nurse to do everything else for you, or whatever. So, do you not think, maybe it’s worth just doing a fun thing, however small, just cos it’s better ? I mean, could it really make everything worse, if you got to enjoy someone’s company for a little while…?”

Tony just looked at Rhodey a moment longer, trying to ignore that vulnerable little feeling in his chest. Hope . Tony knew it was terrible to hope that Rhodey had a point, to hope that his life could be a little bit better – he knew it would hurt all the more when it was crushed. And he knew it would be even worse, if he admitted that hope now. If he actually told Rhodey that he was, for a moment, considering whether he maybe had a point… it would mean Tony couldn’t run from it later. It would make it harder to bury, when reality came rushing back to him, as empty and inevitable and awful as it had ever been…

He should argue with Rhodey now. He probably could argue with Rhodey now – he had twenty years of finely tuned arguments to fall back on-

But he didn’t want to do that either.

“You can relax,” he sighed, “I can’t think of a way to get out of it anyway.”

“Well, good,” Rhodey huffed. “Honestly man, I think it’d be good for you to just see other people. I mean, just that. And I know , I know why you don’t get to do that very basic thing a lot of the time. But, since the chance has come along – I’m glad you’ve not got the chance to sabotage yourself out of it, there I said it.”

“Thanks for that,” Tony muttered, mindlessly. Rhodey just smiled.

“You should shower.”

“Thanks for that” Tony repeated, in the same tone. Rhodey ignored it, and carried on,

“And you should tidy this place up,”

“What, because Steve’s coming over?” Tony asked, pointedly.

“No, because you look like shit, and this place is a mess,” Rhodey answered casually, standing up to leave. Tony snorted a laugh.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

*

Steve pulled up at Tony’s house just after nine that evening. He cut the engine and turned off his phone, exactly the same as he had the first time they came here. And then he let go of a long, slow breath.

God, he was exhausted.

This one day seemed to have taken weeks to pass. And in that time, Steve had run the full gauntlet of human emotions, in no particular order. He’d been nervous. He’d been excited. He’d been resentful and grateful and generically overwhelmed. Mostly, he’d been incredulous that it still wasn’t time to leave. And, now that they were actually here … Steve suddenly felt like this moment had come around all too quickly. Snuck up on him, almost.

“You okay?” Bucky enquired lightly, and Steve winced a smile.

“Pretty sure that’s my line,” he blushed, turning to look Bucky in the eyes “ Are you okay, by the way?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered easily, the vaguest hint of a frown around his eyes – why wouldn’t I be ? And then a blink of recognition, a self-conscious little smile, oh yeah, the tests.

And Steve knew it was completely genuine.

He could just see that Bucky really had forgotten about the tests, at least for a moment. That he wasn’t anxious – that he’d actually felt comfortable enough to let his mind drift to other things. Steve knew that would never have happened on the ride over to any of their previous doctors.

“I dunno… I guess this is usually where I start to worry about all the things that might happen…” Bucky explained, thoughtfully.

“But you’re not worried about that now?” Steve asked, carefully. And Bucky paused to consider it before he answered.

“I know that some of these tests might be uncomfortable,” he said eventually. “That’s just… how it is. Sometimes medical treatment hurts, and I don’t like… scientific environments, or whatever you want to call them, and, yeah, maybe I’ll have to put up with that. But, I’m not worried about it this time.”

“…Why?” Steve prompted him. He wasn’t sure it was the right question – but he really wanted to know the answer.

“Because usually we have to worry about how uncomfortable it’s going to be, because the doctor won’t,” Bucky seemed to work it out as he was saying it. “But, I don’t know – I think I just trust that this is going to be as good as it can be. That he’d actually explain stuff, and ask me before he did anything, and try to make the whole thing less shit. So, I guess… now there’s no point worrying, or something.” He shrugged again, like it wasn’t a big deal.

But Steve knew exactly what Bucky meant – and he knew, it was a huge deal. In fact, this was the first time Steve had recognised what a huge deal it was for him . That this was the first time he hadn’t felt entirely responsible for making sure Bucky got treated like a human being. That he wasn’t listing all the points he had to make the doctors aware of, because they hadn’t asked, and wouldn’t ask. That he wasn’t thinking back over a catalogue of casual cruelties from the last appointment, trying to judge how he’d pre-empt them this time around.

Because Tony had asked all the right questions.

Whatever social faux pas Steve had spent the last week obsessing over, Tony hadn’t done anything cruel to Bucky.

Tony did treat Bucky like a human being… And, already, Bucky trusted him to.

Steve trusted him.

Don’t get carried away with this – you don’t like him, remember?

Steve kicked himself for that, as they finally got out of the car. He reminded himself that he didn’t not like Stark, either. Steve had spent a big part of this endless day having a very sensible, entirely rational talk with himself about this whole situation, and he’d come up with a perfectly level-headed compromise. He had worked this out .  

He didn’t dislike Tony Stark. Of course he didn’t. Tony Stark had sacrificed his time, and stepped out of his comfort zone, just to help them. He was the first person to treat Bucky with any respect. And, objectively speaking, he was clearly very intelligent, and industrious, and those were obviously good qualities to have. 

Steve had been sure to chasten himself appropriately for ever saying he didn’t like Tony Stark – he’d called himself childish, and reactionary, and defensive. Steve had reminded himself that, if Stark was uncomfortable to be around… Well, maybe that was to be expected, under the circumstances. And as Steve didn’t really know the circumstances, he should know better than to judge. That it was unreasonable – unkind.  

And Steve had assured himself that if, in spite of all this analysis, he found himself disliking Stark again, he would ignore it. He would act as if that impulse wasn’t there, because it shouldn’t be.

And – just as important – he didn’t like Tony Stark either. This immediate interest, and this intense attraction, were just as irrational. In the interest of being fair, Steve also had to note that Stark had stared at him rather rudely, when they first walked in. That he had said, somewhat bluntly, well, Pepper said that I had to . Even that… objectively speaking… Stark hadn’t bothered with any of the thousands of people who’d begged for his help in the last twenty years… And Steve wasn’t judging that. He wasn’t. He just had to keep in mind that Stark hadn’t done anything to justify this level of obsession. That, as important and generous as Stark’s help was, it didn’t make him any better than a lot of people Steve knew. That there was no reason to think they’d get on, if they did spend time together…

Even if it sometimes felt like Steve liked him…

But, no. He’d done all this once today. He’d decided. Stark was probably just a nice enough guy, who was smart and hard working – like a lot of the people Steve was friends with – and who had been good enough to do them a favour. He was also kind of rude, and obviously had a limit as to how far he would go to help others… And beyond that, Steve didn’t know him at all. But he had no reason to think he’d like him, as a person, if he did.

And no reason to judge him either way.

Also, he was hot.

Steve made sure to ignore that last observation, as he and Bucky stepped into the elevator. He swallowed as subtly as he could, and tried to breathe through a sudden lightness in his chest. Again, he tried to think his way out of these feelings. He made himself remember everything he’d decided that afternoon. He told himself that he’d get over this before too long… surely ?

The elevator came to a soft stop beneath their feet and the doors slid open. Bucky strode out, confidently… and Steve hesitated for maybe half a second. Just enough time to tell himself he was being ridiculous.

You’re Captain America-

Screw that – you’re a fully-grown man.

He’s not even that attractive.

Get over it, get on with it – get out of the damn elevator, for fuck’s sake.

So, Steve walked out into the workshop, a step behind Bucky, deliberately holding his head up. Still too busy telling himself off to actively look for Stark-

And then he saw him.

Steve looked away immediately – he literally looked at the floor, the way he would have if he’d walked in on something obscene. And as soon as he did it, he knew it was wrong. That it was obvious, and awkward, and probably seemed rude… But it was just an instinct. His only thought was don’t stare this time … And this was just what he’d done instead.

And, to make matters worse, Steve still hadn’t brought himself to look up again.

Jesus, he really is that attractive.

Not that Steve had got much of a look… But it was enough to know that Stark was wearing a black shirt, and that his eyes really were as big as Steve remembered them, and that he’d been smiling when they walked in-

“Hey. Come in, have a seat,” Tony told them, casually… At least, Steve thought it was ‘casually.’ Maybe it was friendly… or, maybe, it had sounded impatient and kinda blunt, actually…

Stop it.

He forced his mind quiet. He simply put a hard stop on all of it, and focused on his breathing. He made himself look up… relieved to find that Tony had turned away from him, to gesture towards the couch on the left-hand side of the room. Steve followed Bucky to sit, awkwardly, at one end of it – leaving as much room as he could at the other.

And then Tony came over and sat cross legged on the floor in front of them.

Steve fought the urge to look away again. He told himself that it wasn’t especially attractive or endearing for Tony to have flopped down onto the floor like that… like a big kid… That there was no basis for this reaction – this sudden impulse to smile.

Steve bit it back and forced himself to keep looking in Tony’s general direction. For the time being, he was more grateful than resentful that Tony seemed entirely focused on Bucky.

“Okay, so, the good news is, turns out I don’t have to do as many tests as I thought,” Tony began, brightly. “I managed to get a lot of the details I need from your previous scans. There are just a few things that no one tested for yet… and a few places where I don’t trust their tests.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“Well, the first question is what do I need to know,” Tony corrected, and waved a hologram into life in the space between them.

And Steve told himself that there wasn’t anything especially irritating or pretentious about that, that it was too soon to accuse Stark of posturing – that there was no rational basis for this reaction, either…

“So, the first thing is that none of your bloodwork has been comprehensive enough – no one has done the right tests. And there isn’t really much choice about how we do that one, so, if you have a problem with needles… the best I can do is put you out first,” Tony shrugged.

“I’m fine with needles,” Bucky smiled.

“Good,” Tony smiled back. “The other thing is, I’m going to need to know about the composition and pressure of your spinal fluid. The simplest way of getting that is a lumbar puncture – but those are painful. Lots of people don’t like those. The other option is to let JARVIS do a scan – but that involves sitting in a machine, a bit like an MRI machine, for about forty-five minutes. I mean, it’s not quite as claustrophobic as an MRI machine, or as noisy. But really, it depends on which of those ideas you hate least.”

“Er, well, I don’t have a… problem, with either of those things…” Bucky began, a little hesitantly. And Steve felt his stomach knot as he translated the true meaning of those words… neither of those things are ‘HYDRA’ things… “Are either of them, I don’t know, better ? For what you need to know?”

“Uh, honestly… Probably the lumbar puncture,” Tony answered, thoughtfully. “I take it you never had one before?”  

“Amazingly, no,” Bucky sighed, “I must’ve had everything else …” And Tony smiled again.

He really did have the most… compelling smile.

Intriguing.

Infuriating .

“Okay, so, this is how it works…” Tony started, selecting and enhancing a little corner of his hologram – a video of a lumbar puncture procedure.

Steve felt a little lift inside him, something it took him a second to name… he was touched . Which seemed a strange reaction, now that he thought of it… But that’s definitely what it was. The fact that Tony had thought to have a video ready, that he’d given as much thought to explanation as he had the procedure. It all seemed part of a very… human gesture of kindness. More real, more personal, than Tony’s professional offer to help in the first place.

You are making too much of this.

It’s an act of kindness – it’s not literally the sweetest thing anyone ever did.

It’s not that big a deal, you’re just making it into one.

“Any questions?” Tony asked, snapping Steve out of his thoughts.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Bucky replied, glancing up at Steve. Steve just shook his head.

“And you’re still okay with this one?” Tony clarified, and Bucky nodded.

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he added quietly.

“Well, there are a lot of options for pain relief-” Tony began, but Bucky cut him off,

“Oh, no. No thanks.”

Steve felt himself step back into the room. His self-interested obsession was set aside, along with everything else, as he remembered all the things he was usually focused on from the outset. The things he knew Bucky was afraid of. The things they always had to argue about. They’d avoided all of that so far, because Tony had let Bucky lead the conversation – but Steve knew there was no way that Tony would just accept this one. No one did. Most people took it for granted that Bucky would want to be numbed, some even went as far as administering things without telling him – and every single one of them argued, when Bucky said he didn’t want it. They all made him struggle to explain his resistance, they always made him feel ridiculous for his objections, and most of the time they ended up getting their own way. Steve could see the entire conversation unfolding in front of him. He knew every beat off by heart-

“Okay,” Tony nodded. There was a little flicker of scepticism behind his eyes, or surprise, or confusion, I think that’s a strange choice -

But he let Bucky make it. Just like that.

“Okay…?” Bucky repeated, sounding somewhat dazed.

“Well, it’s up to you,” Tony told him, still dubious. “I mean, it doesn’t affect the procedure one way of the other. It’s just to make you more comfortable. So, I guess, if it doesn’t make you more comfortable…” And the confusion melted away as he spoke, and Steve could just see him thinking it, actually, I guess that isn’t a strange choice.

Okay, fine, I like him.

Steve just heard it, loud and unambiguous in his head. No way to unthink it. No way to deny it. So, he simply acknowledged it, stoically, and waited for the wave of frustration and confusion that must surely follow. Telling himself he should at least try to wait until he got home, before he began analysing this whole thing again from scratch…

But then he realised… he wasn’t frustrated.

He wasn’t confused.

He was relieved .

And Steve was sure he’d be infuriated by this later, that he’d eventually remember all the reasons it was inappropriate and complicated and unfortunate… But in the moment, it actually made everything seem much less confusing.

Just looking at Tony, and thinking, I like you … took a lot less mental effort. It felt less uncomfortable. For the first time since he first walked into this workshop, Steve felt himself relax a little.

“So, that’s what you’re going to do now?” He asked, his voice sounding like his own at last. Tony glanced up at him, his eyes flashing gold under the lights before they settled, deep and dark, on Steve. Steve felt his breath catch in his throat… but even that wasn’t quite so jarring, now. It felt slightly more natural, when he wasn’t pretending the warm feeling in his stomach wasn’t there – when he didn’t have to force it into a theory that was patently false.

“Actually, I was going to start with the blood work,” Tony answered, looking between Steve and Bucky as he spoke. “You probably aren’t going to feel like doing that after the spinal tap. C’mon.” And he stood up in a fluid motion, and nodded toward the elevator again, “There is a med lab on the next floor up. If we’re drawing blood we should go somewhere cleaner than this.”

Steve smiled, casting an eye over the workshop before he stood up to leave-

It looked pretty clean to him.

*

Performing a lumbar puncture on someone who refuses pain relief is a huge personal responsibility – but it does at least have a sobering effect.

Whatever social anxieties Tony had been struggling with were pushed right back, as he focused on reading the discomfort in Bucky’s posture, and keeping his hands very steady. He barely heard himself, describing everything he was doing and giving a running countdown until they were through, his voice unnaturally calm. By the end of it, he’d even forgotten that Steve was standing just behind him, watching everything he did…

And then, finally, Tony got to announce that they were done. He stood back swiftly and turned away, only thinking of giving Bucky space-

And there was Steve.

Tony almost flinched away from it, purely out of surprise. Surprise that Steve was still here, surprise that he’d managed to stop thinking about him – surprise that the reaction was just as sudden and just as intense, even though he’d been quite happily ignoring the same man a few seconds earlier-

But Tony managed to contain it. He remembered that he’d made an ass of himself the last time Steve took him by surprise, that he’d sworn he’d control himself the next time. So he made himself keep his head upright – for long enough to realise that Steve wasn’t looking at him right now. Steve was looking over Tony’s shoulder, his eyes following Bucky’s movement, softening in sympathy as Bucky slowly sat himself upright. Tony could tell that, for the moment, Steve didn’t know that Tony was looking at him. Steve had probably forgotten that he was even there…

That made it so much easier to keep looking. Suddenly it seemed very easy to look at Steve… and it wasn’t only that he was beautiful. Steve was just so honest in that moment. He wasn’t bothering to hide his concern or his sympathy or his pride – and he didn’t bother to dress any of it up. He wasn’t making sure Tony saw any of this, or thinking about how it would come across, or mentally collecting brownie points for being so considerate… he just was. And Steve being so easy to read made it so much… nicer , to read him. It felt comfortable, and natural, and safe , watching Steve think. Just seeing him. Being a part of this very human moment, no matter how distantly.

It did feel better.

It didn’t fix anything, and it couldn’t go anywhere, and maybe it would make Tony think about all the things he couldn’t have, when he thought back to this moment later…

But maybe it would be nice, to have something to think about later. Maybe it would be nice for there to be something besides all the things he couldn’t have.

Even if it was just a few happy memories, a handful of moments that made him smile… a few reminders of why he liked human beings, a chance to see it for himself.

Maybe it would be better.

And then Steve glanced up at him – and still, it was easy to keep looking. Maybe it helped that Steve seemed more relaxed, since they actually started on the tests… the fact that Steve smiled so naturally made it easier for Tony to do the same. Tony didn’t feel the need to drop his eyes, this time.

“Thank you,” Steve said, his tone tinted with a soft sort of sadness.

“Always happy to stab someone in the spine,” Tony joked – and Steve actually laughed. A warm, musical sound that Tony liked very much… That he was glad he got to hear, just once.

“So, what happens now?” Steve asked, still smiling. Glancing between Tony and Bucky, who was still finding his feet.

“Well, I’ll have to run the tests before I know the specifics, but it’s going to take a few more appointments,” Tony explained. “I’ll go through the details when Bucky is in the mood to listen, but, basically, it’s going to involve a lot of smaller procedures. There’s just no way to do this thing except a step at a time – his body is going to have to learn each upgrade separately…” Tony had to stop himself from getting carried away with the technical details.

“Okay,” Steve nodded, and let go of a heavy breath. Tony could see him thinking his way through the next few weeks. Tony could see the worry, and the determination, and the optimism, in those subtle little changes on his face. It made Tony want to reach out to him. It filled him with a sudden urge to help, to make this better.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think any of the other treatments are going to be as bad as that was. Some of them might be time consuming, and boring, but…” he shrugged. And then he watched Steve smile again, and nod another thank you… and blush, just a little…

And then he frowned.

“I meant to ask…I, uh, didn’t mean to invite myself along to all of this, last time…” Steve started, sounding awkward again. “I mean… we’re both just really grateful for what you’re doing, and the fact that you’re happy to have me here if Bucky’s having surgery is… another kindness, so I just – if you’d rather me not be here the rest of the time-”

“No, it’s fine,” Tony cut in, somewhat surprising himself and then having to rush to catch up, “I mean, whatever is going to make it easier, in the long run – if he’d rather have you here… or, if… you’d rather be here, or whatever – I don’t mind, either way.”

Well, that was all very uncomfortable. 

But… Steve smiled again.

A smaller smile, more polite than friendly – but Tony was fairly sure that was a yes.

And that would do. 

Chapter Text

Their first appointment was scheduled for a few nights later, on what turned out to be a pretty dismal Monday evening. By the time Steve and Bucky arrived the rain was running down the lab windows in sheets, and the room was filled with a vaguely comforting drumming sound.

Tony was quite proud of how naturally he was able to welcome them this time. How well he managed to ignore the fact that Steve’s hair was wet…

But, now that Tony had some real work to focus on, everything was a little bit easier. He could direct events more confidently, now that this was a scientific procedure rather than a social interaction. He knew in advance that he could always fill an awkward silence with a bit of technical detail. He could think ahead to the next question, the next task, the next checkpoint.

This was the first time since they’d started this thing that Tony didn’t feel completely lost.

In fact, after a few stilted comments about the weather, things actually began to move quite fluidly. Tony heard himself telling Bucky where to sit and Steve where to stand, without panicking over every individual word. He wasn’t thinking a thousand different things, when he was gathering his tools and arranging his workspace. This part of things felt natural to him… and somehow, having other people here didn’t make it all completely different. Not this time.

After half an hour or so, Tony might even have slipped into enjoying himself… By then, the three of them had fallen into a comfortable sort of quiet – which Tony barely noticed. His work for today was delicate, and fiddly; tiny little amendments done with very fine movements and needle tipped tools. Tony was so focused on that one connection in Bucky’s arm, thinking so deep into the theory behind it, that he’d forgotten there were other people in the room-

Or, even more amazingly, he’d forgotten that there weren’t supposed to be.

There really were a few moments when Tony just… was. He wasn’t play acting, he wasn’t making it happen, he wasn’t even taking the time to appreciate it.

And then there was a loud crack of thunder, that seemed to come from right outside the house.

Tony tightened every muscle in his body to keep himself from flinching. He felt Bucky hold his breath. Then Tony loosened his grip on the built-for-purpose tweezers he’d been using, and leant away, and relaxed his arms. Taking a moment to recentre and reset himself before he tried again-

Then the sky outside flashed brilliant white, so bright that even Captain America jumped. And then another crash of thunder, even louder, and a theatrical howl of wind.

Tony had to pinch back a little smile. There was something surreal about that, something fundamentally silly about how dramatic it was… An image immediately jumped into Tony’s mind, fully formed, and he very nearly laughed at it. He nearly said it out loud. It was only at the very last moment that he remembered, no – insensitive.

Probably.

So he bit his lip harder, and forced a slow breath out through his nose, and glanced up at Bucky. Trying to think of something sensible to say instead-

And found that Bucky was biting back a smile too.

“Sorry,” Bucky muttered, when he caught the questioning look in Tony’s eyes, “I just keep expecting you to laugh maniacally and yell, he’s alive- ”

“ Oh my God, I so nearly did,” just fell out of Tony’s mouth.

And then an immediate stab of panic.

He was supposed to be being sensitive, and understanding and professional.

He’d warned himself not to make jokes – not to try anything too human. Too far outside his comfort zone, his area of understanding.

He was suddenly aware of the trance he’d slipped into. The fact that he’d not bothered to scan all of his words before he said them, that he’d not been careful -

And then, to his left, he heard Steve stifle a laugh.

When Tony looked over, he saw that Steve had dropped his head and covered his mouth with his hand… But Tony could still see him smiling. Steve was just one of those people that smiled with their whole body; it was there in the shape of his shoulders and the blush running up his neck and the slight crinkle in his eyes, even when he’d closed them.

“Sorry,” Steve breathed, in that very controlled way of someone trying not to laugh again.

“You can shut up,” Bucky told him, casually. “You know that makes you the Igor here, right?”

Another giggle bubbled over Steve’s lips. Bucky grinned at him, somewhere between amused and smug. And then Bucky looked back at Tony, and Tony had that brief panic of what he was ‘supposed’ to do with his face…only to realise that he was already smiling.

Just…smiling. Because it was funny, or happy, or just kind or nice.

And that was…

Better.

*

The second appointment was the first time Bucky had to be put under a general anaesthetic – and Steve was more nervous about it than he was.

Partly, it was the legitimate nervousness he always felt on Bucky’s behalf during medical procedures – especially when it came to sedation, and pain relief.

Steve knew that Bucky hated the idea of going under a general anaesthetic. Even though he never felt like he could complain about it, because it had always been his treatment of choice. Steve could see it, in that resigned little shrug Bucky gave – What am I gonna say? I asked them to knock me out.

But only because the other option was so much worse.

Bucky had always been clear that anything was preferable to being numbed. And, as with all lived experience, it had always been difficult for him to explain… but the simplest answer was that HYDRA had never sedated him for surgery. HYDRA had always favoured the quickest, cheapest route when it came to the repairs – which meant numbing Bucky’s torso so that he wouldn’t move, and making him watch while they worked.

And Bucky had said that, of everything , those times might’ve been the worst. The moments when his true mind felt closer to the surface, when it felt as though it was just him sitting there, frozen inside a body that he couldn’t control. Those were the moments when Bucky was most aware of the horrors he was living through, and his own helplessness against them. Moments when he felt his own limbs hanging from his body like stone, cold and unresponsive and alien to him… Like an allegory for his entire existence.

And the issue had been less of an issue this time, thanks to Tony. At least Tony hadn’t spent the last two weeks suggesting alternative painkillers, like the team at NASA did – repeatedly missing the point that Bucky did not want to be numbed at all . Or demanded Bucky explain the difference between a general anaesthetic and being cryogenically frozen, like that nurse in Oslo – as though Bucky’s traumas weren’t valid if they couldn’t be defended objectively. At least, this time, no one had done anything to make things worse before they could even start being shit in the first place.

But that didn’t mean this whole thing wasn’t shit. Just because Bucky was more comfortable than he would usually be, it didn’t mean he was comfortable. Just because it was the least-worst option, didn’t mean he didn’t hate a thousand things about it.

And Steve could see all of that, and therefore Steve was nervous for him. Anxious for Bucky’s ordeal to be over, willing this to go as smoothly as possible-

It was partly that.

…And, yes, partly, it was the fact that this would be the first time he was ‘alone’ with Tony Stark.

Steve managed to ignore that thought, for as long as it took Bucky to fall under. Pointedly concentrating on his anxiety for Bucky – he felt better about feeling bad about that.

And then he relaxed just a little, when he realised that Bucky wasn’t aware of anything anymore, that at least he didn’t have to worry about Bucky being worried… Which, usually, was Steve’s cue to start worrying about everything else. When he’d start looking nervously between the monitors and the doctors, as though he could prevent a catastrophe if he was watching when it happened-

But he trusted Tony.

He didn’t feel like he had to supervise Tony – he felt sure that Tony would pay attention, and think of everything, and be very careful.

When he watched Tony work, Steve wasn’t looking for mistakes or oversights. He was just watching Tony’s hands. Beautiful hands, fast and delicate…like an artist…

Oh… He was alone with Tony…

Steve felt it closing in on him. The fluttering feeling rising higher in his chest. The increased awareness of his own skin. The fluidity of his thoughts, the way his observations and interpretations and daydreams ran away from him – which seemed entirely inappropriate, under the circumstances… But so natural. So hard to fight.

Suddenly, Steve felt like a lovestruck teenager, watching his crush from the side lines – not sure whether he wanted Tony to notice him or not. Not sure whether he was delighted for this chance to be with Tony or desperate to get out of it. If this felt strange, or bad, or…not.

And then Tony was standing up. Stepping away from Bucky. Putting his tools down and dropping his shoulders.

…He was finished?

Steve blinked, and dropped his eyes – just in time that Tony didn’t catch him staring. He hoped.

But he could feel Tony moving closer. Steve scrabbled to shift his mind out of daydream-mode, as all of his muscled tensed in preparation for something… for actually being alone with him-

Oh, God, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

He’d forgotten all words-

“He should start to wake up in about ten minutes, give or take,” Tony spoke, softly. “There shouldn’t be too much recovery time. He might be kind of sleepy tonight, but he’ll be fine by tomorrow. He might want to cry off, if you have something especially difficult planned…”

And Steve had to really concentrate, to think what they had scheduled for tomorrow. He only made the effort because he thought it might be something he could talk about…

But then he did remember, and his shoulders slumped.

“Depends what you mean by difficult…” Steve muttered. Tony raised his eyebrows in a friendly, questioning gesture – and, even though it would be a tedious topic of conversation, Steve grabbed at it with both hands. “We have to meet with the new Washington liaison. He wants to talk to us about our shared mission statement .”

Steve was gratified when Tony winced at that, glad that he seemed to have the same reaction to it as Steve had.

“Which wouldn’t be that bad,” Steve dared to carry on. “But this guy is just… the most difficult person to talk to.”

“Oh, wait, this is Jerry Hallan, isn’t it?” Tony smiled. “I’ve seen his name in the government reports.”

“That’s him.”

“… And I think I’ve seen him interviewed,” Tony carried on, thoughtfully. “Takes everything very seriously, and is oh so earnest?”

Steve laughed softly, his whole body relaxing with it. He realised that actually talking to Tony wasn’t nearly as difficult as thinking about it had been. Steve felt a gentle stirring of hope, that maybe he was finally finding his feet with this thing-

Which was extinguished completely, when Tony added,

“Acts like he’s already decided he wants Orlando Bloom to play him in the biopic?”

And, oh, Steve knew he should know that name. He did know that name – it was buried in there somewhere, among all the millions of pop culture references he’d tried to catch up on in the last year. But there was no frame of reference, no mental image or association. No way to know what joke Tony was making.

Steve felt his smile fade. He took a little breath, and did his best to conceal the painful twist in his gut. To ignore all the disappointed, critical voices in his head.

I will never be able to talk like a normal person in this world

I’ve been here a year, I shouldn’t still be this clueless

He’s going to think I’m completely ignorant

We were almost having a real conversation

Who am I kidding – I’m never going to be able to have a real conversation.

This little interaction was a perfect analogy for that void Steve still felt, that specific sadness that seemed to soak out of him sometimes… like it was always buried in him somewhere. That distance. That loneliness. The fact that he would’ve liked so much to just be able to laugh at that, to be able to continue the joke – to stay in the moment.

“Sorry, not familiar” He managed, barely above a whisper. Already braced for the shocked exclamation – you’ve never heard of Orlando Bloom? Or a very slow and patronising explanation. Or a joke at his expense.

But Tony barely paused. There was only the slightest flicker of thought before he corrected himself, so very casually,

“Oh, it’s like… he’s already decided he wants to be played by Tyrone Powers, or something.”

And Steve just burst out laughing.

Not even at the joke Tony had been making. It was just so far from what he’d expected Tony to say – Steve was so surprised to hear anyone say that name. It was a laugh of recognition, and nostalgia, a laugh for no other reason than,

“God, I’ve not heard anyone talk about Tyrone Powers in – years,” he explained, still giggling. “I’d forgotten he even existed.”

“Everyone has,” Tony shrugged. And, with that, Steve realised…

Yeah, everyone had forgotten about Tyrone Powers.

Steve hadn’t seen that name anywhere, not once, since he woke up in the 21st Century…

“But you’ve heard of him.”

And Steve saw the self-conscious little smile. The way Tony dropped his eyes briefly before he answered,

“I’ve heard of everyone.”

An entirely different kind of smile warmed through Steve, at that. Something deeper and more meaningful. He was happy , thinking of Tony knowing that reference…

He was touched.

Steve was sure that Tony hadn’t heard of Tyrone Powers, a few weeks earlier. And not only because no one from this century had heard of him. Steve could see it in Tony’s reaction. Slightly shy and a little bit embarrassed and mostly hopeful…

Like he’d been caught out doing something nice.

… you’d have to read a lot of stuff about the 1940s, to get to a reference that obscure.

“So, what happened to him then?” Steve smiled, “Tyrone Powers?”

“I have no idea,” Tony replied, natural and friendly and interested. “I mean, I know he was huge for a while, and then everyone just forgot about him. I don’t think there was a scandal or anything,” He shrugged. “It’s like, no one ever mentions Barbara Stanwyck anymore, but she was still working until the 1980s…”

And just like that, Steve was having a real conversation. A natural, pleasant, fun conversation, in which he could answer as many questions as he had to ask. A conversation he felt a part of, rather than a spectator to. Something that felt real .

It wasn’t until it was over – all too soon – that Steve realised just how unusual that was. How nice that was.

How sad he was to walk away from it.

*

Steve arrived at the third appointment looking vaguely distracted.

He’d smiled when he walked in, and traded a bit of casual small talk, much more relaxed than he had been just a few weeks earlier… but Tony still felt like there was something. Something Steve wasn’t saying, some other train of thought that he was trying to ignore….

Tony fought the urge to ask about it. He reminded himself that, just because they’d had one pleasant chat about forties pop culture, it didn’t mean he had any right to ask Steve personal questions.

He had to remind himself that he was out of practice when it came to human interaction. That he was trying to avoid personal conversation, for all sorts of reasons-

And he had to keep telling himself that, because it just wasn’t coming naturally anymore.

Tony didn’t feel anxious or unsure around Steve now. When he thought back to the conversation they’d had last week – a conversation that wasn’t about anything of substance, and hadn’t told him much about Steve, and was hardly enough to catch Tony up on the decades of social interaction he’d missed – still, Tony just felt like it would be like that again. That Steve was easy to talk to. That Tony did know how to do this after all…

But, of course, that made no sense.

So, he ignored the way Steve’s eyes seemed to settle in the middle distance. He bit it back, every time are you okay? almost fell over his lips. He made a point of talking about the evening’s treatment, filling the silence with technical details and neutral observations, right up until Bucky was sitting on the examination table.

Then he fell quiet for a few moments, while he removed one of the panels from Bucky’s shoulder, and began untangling the chaos of wires beneath. There was the tricky task of replacing some of them, and then the even more delicate task of wiring the tiny little circuit board into the system. But even while Tony was so focused on what he was doing, he was still aware of Steve standing behind him… being sad…

“Right, so I’m going to set this to run for a minute, and then check the data to make sure it’s doing what it should be,” Tony explained, as he sat back from his work. “No point putting everything back together, if we’re just going to have to do this all over again in a minute…” he gestured awkwardly towards the missing panel on Bucky’s arm, I am going to fix that.

“Sure, no problem,” Bucky smiled, glancing up with interest as Tony waved a hologram into life beside them.

Tony spent a few minutes watching the numbers, running mental calculations and thinking back to his hypothesis… and then the little surge of satisfaction, as he felt it all fall into place. The equations balancing out, the patterns all locking together – he loved that feeling.

And then he looked up at Steve, who was so obviously lost inside his own head…

“Are you okay?”

Tony didn’t even bother to kick himself for it. Now that he’d said it, he realised the inevitability of it – that he was always going to ask Steve if he was alright, so there wasn’t really any point in getting all tied up over it.

And then Steve glanced up. He managed a self-aware little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and a shake of his head,

“Sorry,” he murmured, looking between Tony and the floor. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… a bad day at work,” he shrugged.

“Something happened?” Tony asked, and then looked at Bucky. And Bucky pinched his lips together, and fixed Tony with a loaded stare, and then nodded oh-so-subtly in Steve’s direction.

This is his thing.

You should talk to him .

Go on, ask him .

Tony looked back at Steve.

“No, nothing like that,” Steve assured him. “It’s just… I had to meet with the legal people today, about the Maximoff twins. And it was deeply irritating. That’s all.”

“Is there a problem?” Tony frowned, trying to remember all the details from the Maximoff file. He knew there were issues, a few months ago, when the Maximoffs first joined the Avengers. Arguments between politicians, about whether they had committed a crime by volunteering for Strucker’s experiments, and if they were suitable to be Avengers, and whether the government should get a say in that anyway. But, as far as Tony knew, most of that had finally been ironed out. The meeting today should really have been a box ticking exercise…

“No,” Steve exhaled. “No, actually, it was probably one of the more efficient meetings we’ve had…”

And Tony just raised his eyebrows at him, But…?

“It’s just the way everyone there talks about them,” Steve sighed. “Everyone was using the word ‘unnatural’ today – like a memo had gone out that it was the correct term, or something. Like it’s the thing you’re supposed to say instead of ‘weird’, or…” He seemed to catch himself, just as he was getting carried away. “Sorry,” he said again, dropping his eyes.

“No, it’s okay,” Tony smiled. He almost said it’s good … And he didn’t know why it was good, that Steve was talking like this – but he knew it was.

“Steve hates the word unnatural” Bucky informed Tony, in a pointed tone. Prompting the conversation ahead.

“I do hate the word unnatural,” Steve conceded, with a little wince.

“How come?” Tony asked, giving his hologram one final look over before he closed it down.

“Because it doesn’t mean anything,” Steve answered, with a little more passion in his voice. “There is no actual criteria for that word. People just use it to describe things that they don’t like, or that are outside of their comfort zone. Except that, if they said, this thing makes me feel bad, I don’t like it, make it go away , it’d sound like they were the one with the problem, like they were being entitled and unkind. Which they are, but they don’t want to sound like that – so they call it unnatural , and suddenly it’s a legitimate objection. They label another person as something horrible, just because it ‘doesn’t feel right’ to them, essentially.”

“This rant can run to over three hours,” Bucky added, sardonically, and Steve huffed a little laugh.

“It’s not going to, though,” he surrendered, showing the room his palms. “I’m shutting up, honest.”

“Well, no, you don’t – have to…” Tony cut in just a bit too quickly, faltering when Steve’s gaze snapped to meet his. “…It’s an interesting concept, I mean. And, uh, I think you’re right, for what it’s worth…” He trailed off, awkwardly.

“I don’t know it’s just…” Steve started, and then paused to frown at Tony, you’re sure you want me to get into this? And Tony just hoped it showed on his face, how very much he’d like Steve to get into this… “They were talking about how we discourage other people from seeking such unnatural enhancements, and why the Avengers can’t try to gain an edge through such unnatural experiments, and what would happen if such unnatural behaviour was normalised – and they mean ‘harmful’. Or ‘dangerous’. Or they should. They should be able to point to a reason the world would be worse off if these enhancements were allowed, or why it’s unfair, or whatever – and the thing is, I actually agree with all that. I think experiments like Strucker’s should be banned. But not because they contravene some made up ‘law of nature’.”

“And it makes a difference to you, what they call it,” Tony observed with a smile. Pleased it made a difference to Steve. Pleased that Steve saw the world this way…

“I just think it makes a difference to them ,” Steve explained. “Or, I mean, I don’t know if either of them care, actually – but I mean it makes a difference… about them? If you say, we’re banning these experiments because they are harmful and dangerous , you put the blame on the person who did the experiment. And you pass judgement on one event that happened. And you accept that it’s a practical judgement, based on what you think would be best for your society, as people. But when you say unnatural, you make it sound like there is something wrong with them . Like they shouldn’t be , or something. You pass judgement on their existence. And you’re claiming it's in defence of what is right , like you have the endorsement of some greater authority when you make a regular-old-human-value judgement… I know it’s just a word, but it does make a difference,” he finished with another shrug.

For a second or two, Tony couldn’t answer him. But it wasn’t because he couldn’t think of a response, or even because he was worrying about the response he should give – this time, it was simply that he had so much he wanted to say, and he just couldn’t decide what to go with.

He wanted to tell Steve to just keep talking, that this whole area of discussion was captivating and thought-provoking and interesting , that he wanted more of this-

He wanted to explore these ideas, he wanted to ask Steve questions and give him hypothetical scenarios and posit counter arguments, just to push it further.

He wanted to agree, eagerly, and add his own examples.

And then he realised why this had grabbed his attention so completely – and, in the first instance, Tony wanted to tell Steve that, too.

He wanted to say, I have spent the last twenty years thinking of myself as unnatural, and thinking Obie turned me into something wrong, and never even realised – and, you know what, I think maybe you’re right -

He wanted to ask… So, you really aren’t frightened, or disgusted, or even excited, by the things other people call unnatural …?

And he couldn’t ask that, obviously…

But it meant something, that he wanted to.

“You’re absolutely right,” Tony smiled. And then added, casually, “And it’s our lawyers, that you were talking to, today?”

“Yeah, well, the Avengers legal team,” Steve frowned, yeah, I know, they should know better.

“Hm,” Tony nodded, sitting down next to Bucky and picking up his tools again. “Well, it doesn’t fix the real issue, I know – but, for what it’s worth, I can promise you they’ll never use that word again.”

He was too focused on the work he was doing to see the way Steve smiled at that.

*

By the time of the fourth appointment, Steve had stopped pretending they weren’t the highlight of his week.

He still felt guilty about it, of course. Every so often, he’d ask himself what sort of friend would be counting down the minutes until Bucky’s next operation, or spend more time thinking about the doctor’s smile than the technical details… And the answer was this sort of friend, apparently.

Because no matter how many times he reminded himself what he should be feeling, Steve still just felt like this. He’d tried to force a more sensible set of priorities into his head, but his mind just defaulted right back to Tony the moment his concentration slipped. And, failing all that, he’d even tried pretending that Bucky was his main concern, thinking he could at least come across like less of a self-centred ass-

Which might have worked, if Bucky weren’t so determined to encourage his new crush.

But, as it was, every time Steve tried to stop himself from rambling about Tony, Bucky would leap in with another question about him. Every time Steve tried to steer the conversation back to something professional, Bucky would nudge him back the other way. Whenever Steve said he felt bad, for getting excited over such a traumatic thing, Bucky would roll his eyes and say it wasn’t traumatic – and, anyway, he’d much rather listen to Steve gossip than discuss medical techniques.

And Steve knew he meant it.

And Steve wanted to be excited about this. He liked looking forward to something once a week.

So, when it was finally time to drive over to Tony’s for appointment four, Steve didn’t bother trying to hide how wound up he was. He would have bothered with a cursory question about how Bucky was feeling – if Bucky had let him. But, before Steve could even start the engine, Bucky leapt in with a teasing observation about how nervous he looked, and just like that Steve was back onto his favourite topic again.

Worrying that he’d have nothing to say.

Dissecting everything they’d said to each other so far.

Sharing random observations about Tony that he’d come up with, since they’d last had this conversation…

And then, just as Steve was making the turn onto Tony’s estate, Bucky asked,

“So, are you actually going to do something about it?”

Steve felt his spine straighten up from under him. As keen as he was to talk about Tony… he didn’t like that question. Immediately, instinctively, it made him uncomfortable.

Suddenly he realised… he’d been avoiding the whole issue of being attracted to Tony. He hadn’t even known he was doing it – but in all the many, rambling conversations they’d had about Tony, Steve had never once mentioned how pretty Tony was. He’d never shared any of those observations.

And now he recognised that he didn’t want to. He knew he couldn’t tell Bucky that he wasn’t attracted to Tony, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t want him… but he didn’t want to say it out loud. There was just a very basic resistance to it, a sense of foreboding… This is about to get difficult…

“What am I going to do about what?” Steve asked coolly, pulling into their regular parking space.

“Oh, come on Steve,” Bucky groaned, without malice. “This is the first person you’ve liked since 1942. The first thing that’s stopped you being anxious about everything for five minutes at a time-”

“Really?” Steve cut in, incredulously. “This makes me anxious-”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bucky corrected him. “This thing where you think about him all the time, and get nervous about seeing him, or whatever, is not ‘anxious’ – that’s just being a normal person, for once. It’s nothing like the constant, global-scale over-thinking you do the rest of the time – that this finally distracted you from.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Steve muttered, cutting the engine.

“It is!” Bucky exclaimed, exasperated. “ And , you should do something about it.”

“Like what?” Steve huffed, and then turned to look directly at Bucky when he added, “ Ask if he wants to go out sometime? ”

“Okay, fine,” Bucky went on, a little more softly. “So why can’t you come over here? When I’m not having surgery, I mean.”

“And do what ?” Steve sighed.

“Well, I don’t know…” And Bucky made like he was seriously considering it. And then he answered, as though it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, “you like giving head, right?”

Steve groaned, and dropped his head onto the steering wheel.

“Jesus Bucky-”

“You’re thinking about sucking his cock right now ” Bucky went on, casually.

No, I’m trying really hard not to – and you’re not helping.

 “No, I’m thinking we’re going to be late,” Steve answered, firmly , and opened the car door with a little too much force.

“He likes you too,” Bucky sighed, before Steve could get out of the car.

And Steve paused.

Of course, there was a part of him that was intrigued by that. Part of him that wanted to think that it was true, that wanted to ask Bucky why he thought it – a part of him that would have enjoyed hearing this particular argument.

…But there was also a part of him that didn’t want to know.

There was a part of Steve that didn’t want to think about whether Tony liked him, or what he might like to happen, even hypothetically. A part of him that already knew he wanted more from Tony than just one night – a part of him that didn’t want to think about why he couldn’t have it.

The part of him that knew, one day soon, this whole thing would be over… and he’d never see Tony again.

And that idea was-

No, Steve really didn’t want to go there.

“Well, if we keep him waiting much longer, he won’t” Steve muttered weakly, finally stepping out onto the drive. And Bucky just sighed, and followed him.

Steve was incredibly grateful that Bucky always knew when not to push it.

*

Steve turned up to the fifth appointment in his uniform. Which was… distracting.

Tony had stopped thinking of Steve as Captain America since he’d actually met him – so much so that he’d sort of forgotten he was Captain America, apparently. And then Steve had strolled into the lab in very form-fitting Kevlar, and suddenly it all occurred to him at once.

The fact that this man had saved the entire world, on more than one occasion.

The fact that this man had single-handedly taken down Hydra.

The fact that this man could lift a car with his bare hands.

The fact that this man had incredible legs…

Tony stared again, as humiliatingly obvious as he’d been the first time that he saw Steve. Tony even knew he was doing it. It was just… Steve was Captain America. The sweet, shy guy who made awkward small talk and winced every time his friend had to have an injection… was Captain America. And, yeah, Tony knew all that before – but he’d never really thought about it. He’d never tried to fit all these different things he knew about Steve into the same picture. He’d never thought about Steve being that brave, or that strong-

And sweet Jesus fuck, that body-

So, when Tony finally snapped himself out of it, he immediately raced to bury himself in his work – purely to distance himself from that awkward start to the evening. And, thankfully, tonight’s procedure involved another general anaesthetic and a lot of complicated adjustments, so Tony had plenty to focus on. As always, he managed to push all distractions to the back of his mind when it came to the important part, somehow managing to lose himself in his task even with that standing at the back of the workshop…

And then, at last, he finished soldering the final panel back into place. He put down his tools and looked over at Bucky’s monitor, checking all of his vital signs. And, as Tony satisfied himself that everything was correct and complete and as it should be, he felt that tension running up his back again…

He couldn’t help feeling like this was a step backwards. Tony really thought that he’d moved beyond this overwhelmed, physical reaction to Steve. Their last few appointments had actually been enjoyable, comfortable … and suddenly, the thought of having an easy chat with Steve as impossible as it had the first time he walked in.

And then Tony made himself look up.

Of course, Steve wasn’t looking at him yet. Steve was watching Bucky breathe, that familiar, earnest look on his face… Tony could see the little flicker behind his eyes, the subtle crease of concern above his brow – all the thoughts that Tony knew were tumbling through his head. Hoping Bucky would be okay, trying to think of what he’d do if something went wrong, trying to figure out how it all worked… Tony could almost hear it all in Steve’s voice.

…Captain America is Steve

Was an entirely different revelation, to Steve is Captain America. This wasn’t about the impossible, inhuman things that Steve could do… It was about all the wonderfully human things that Captain America was. It was suddenly seeing that all that power, and strength, and heroism was actually just one very sweet man making his own choices… Choices based on the person Steve was.

In that moment, everything seemed to make so much more sense. It made everything Captain America ever did seem so much more impressive, thinking that it had really just been a human being at the centre of it all. It made all the impossible things about Steve seem so much more accessible, more relatable, thinking that it was all someone that Tony knew…

And Tony did feel like he knew him.

Maybe that didn’t make sense, after a couple of hours of shallow chit-chat… but over the course of those insubstantial conversations, Tony felt like he’d seen Steve. He felt like he could guess Steve’s opinion on topics they’d never discussed, that he could predict his reaction to things that had never come up – that he just knew what sort of person he was.

And, with that, Tony realised that Steve wasn’t some incomprehensible concept or mythical creature. That he wasn’t overwhelmed by Steve or intimidated by Steve or completely lost around Steve…

He just really liked him.

Which was a huge revelation, sure, and something he’d no doubt spend the rest of the week over-thinking… But, in the moment, it made it much easier to talk.

“So, you came here straight from battle?” He smiled, gesturing vaguely to Steve’s outfit. Steve glanced down, and breathed a little laugh.

“Sort of,” he grinned. “Press conference.”

“They make you wear the uniform to talk to the press?” Tony asked – making a mental note to download all of the Avengers past media conferences as soon as Steve and Bucky left.

“Well, no one makes me…” Steve sighed, a hint of a blush colouring his cheeks. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t really like the idea of anyone asking what Steve Rogers thinks.” And he dropped his eyes, slightly embarrassed.

“No, I get that,” Tony assured, easily – because he did. Immediately, he felt like he knew exactly what Steve was talking about…

Oh, but he knew he should be trying to get himself out of this conversation.

He should be pivoting back to the news or the forties or the Avengers. Something safe.  

He’d always told himself that he could never say anything , just in case… 

And then Steve smiled at him, seemingly reassured that Tony understood what he was saying, and added,

“Half the time I don’t actually know what I think about any of it…”

“But it’s easier to think what Captain America would think.”

Tony just said it. Just added that little observation, like he had any right or reason to… And before he could kick himself for it, Steve just laughed, and nodded,

“Yeah, basically.”

And he looked at Tony with such honest connection, yeah, that’s it exactly … Like a mesmerising, beautiful flame – Tony knew he should run from this. He knew it would hurt if he touched it. But it was just so warm, and pretty, and… Tony just really liked him…

“Pepper just flat-out writes most of my statements these days,” he went on, not sure if he was going against his every instinct or giving into them. “And, what’s really weird is, if I ever do write one myself, I actually find myself thinking that it doesn’t sound right – like, trying to write in the Tony Stark voice that people know…” He knew he should be panicking now, that this should all be so much harder to say. But, when Steve looked at him like that…

“I never say ‘I don’t know’, because Captain America wouldn’t” Steve admitted, in the same slightly hesitating, almost eager tone… Like he was having the same crisis about whether he could say any of this out loud. "Which, on the one hand, is obviously ridiculous. I mean, I know that no one knows everything, and everyone knows that I am just a person, so I can’t know everything…. But, on the other hand, it sounds sort of ridiculous, Captain America shrugging and saying, I dunno . Especially when it’s just a… human question…”

“Like, if you stopped a person in the street and asked them what they think about organised religion, you’d expect them to be a bit thrown by the question – but if someone asks you whether you support the church, then it’s a simple yes/no question that Captain America deliberately avoided, and what is he hiding-” And Tony was cut short when Steve burst out laughing again.

“I haven’t had that one yet,” he smiled, gratefully. And then it cooled just a little, before he added, “I got asked whether I thought the Avengers should be on social media…”

“Why, is there a crime in progress on social media?” Tony mocked, raising an eyebrow.

“See, now I wish I’d said that, ” Steve grinned.

“Why, what did you say?”

“That I didn’t see how that was relevant to the incident in New Mexico, and that’s what we were really there to talk about,” Steve shrugged. “Which is the sort of thing they’ll let you get away with, when you’re wearing the uniform. But, then again, when you’re wearing the uniform, you can’t say – I still don’t really know what counts as social media, or why anybody bothers with it. Captain America Doesn’t Understand The Internet is not a good headline.”

“If it helps, some of my work actually helped create the internet, at least as we now know it – and I don’t know why anyone bothers with social media, either.” Tony smiled…

…But then, I don’t actually do anything ‘social’ at all.

A second too late, Tony realised how ridiculous his contribution was. That of course he didn’t understand why anyone was doing anything these days – that it would hardly make Steve feel better to hear that Tony shared his level of ignorance.

That he couldn’t comment on anything – at least, not without acknowledging that he couldn’t. If he didn’t at least start with, I mean, I know I’m not a normal person… then anything he said would just be a joke…

Ah, there was the jolt of panic he should’ve felt much sooner. There was the instinctive resistance to this kind of conversation, the understanding of why he shouldn’t do this.

But he had to say something -

“And hey, at least you look good in the uniform.”

Not that !

…Too late.

Steve’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and Tony just froze, unable to even look away-

And then the monitor behind him beeped.

“Sorry, just a sec,” Tony muttered, even though he knew that was just a standard report being run.

…He could pretend to be engrossed in a standard report for a few minutes.

*

Steve and Bucky were actually late for the sixth appointment – which Steve hated far more than Tony ever could have.

“I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed, a touch dramatically, the second he stepped out of the elevator.

“It’s fine,” Tony smiled – but, from the way everything in his lab had been neatened into perfect parallel lines, Steve had to guess he’d been waiting here for a while. Steve glanced up at the clock, and winced. Twenty minutes. That was really late.

“We got stuck in some political… project meeting…thing,” he explained, too irritated with it to think of the right words. “Some partnership the government is building with a communications company, or something – I don’t even know how they want us to be involved. They just came by to ‘introduce themselves’ and wouldn’t shut up.”

“They were aggressively enthusiastic about the whole thing,” Bucky confirmed, at least half as annoyed as Steve was. “And really bad at reading a room.”

“We must’ve done the whole ‘well, this has been great, but’ thing about a hundred times,” Steve groaned. “And Nick, oh so helpfully , actually told them we didn’t have any official business for the rest of the day.”

“I think he regretted that,” Bucky observed, with a smile.

“Which meant we couldn’t even pretend we were going to be late for something else,” Steve carried on over-explaining.

“I still think you should’ve said you had a date tonight” Bucky muttered. Steve snapped to attention, and shot him a not-very-subtle glare. “What?” Bucky asked, faux innocent. “Just because Nick says you don’t have work to do, you still could’ve had plans.”

“ You could have said you had a date tonight,” Steve shot back – because that’s just how he and Bucky argued. And then, when he realised how childish that would’ve sounded, he rushed to add, “And, anyway, that wouldn’t have gotten us out of the room any quicker. If I’d pretended I was going on a date, Nat would still be asking me questions now .”

“He makes a valid point,” Bucky conceded, glancing back at Tony.

“Who were these guys?” Tony smiled. “I mean, if they have you weighing up escape strategies…”

“ Talleroy Communications ,” Bucky answered, mockingly. “But the guy they had running the meeting kept calling it TallCo”

“Which made it sound like he had his own little euphemism for the telephone,” Steve muttered, and Tony laughed.

“Ah, the new-fangled Talk-O I’ve heard so much about.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled.

“I thought it sounded more like a company they’d have in a children’s book,” Bucky mused. “ From the highest room in the tallest skyscraper in the land, Mr Big runs his company… ”

“And, just like in a children’s book, none of us really know what this company does,” Steve added. “Even after a two-hour introduction.”

“They help different organisations synergise and develop their communication methods, though idea sharing and… something technology” Bucky tried to remember, pulling a sour face while he did it.

“Ouch,” Tony agreed, with a sympathetic smile. “Fair enough, something like that warrants a clear escape plan.”

“A really comprehensive escape plan,” Steve added. “These guys are experts at keeping a conversation going.”

“Okay, I’ll put my top AI on it,” Tony laughed. “But I should probably finish with this project first…” he suggested, gesturing to Bucky’s arm.

Of course, they both took the friendly hint, and went over to their now-familiar places by Tony’s examination table. And, by the time Tony had picked up his tools, Steve’s mind had drifted back to his now-familiar train of thought.

Thinking that he was going to kick Bucky for the ‘you should’ve said you had a date’ comment.

Wondering if he’d come off as aggressive or immature or rude, trying to guess what Tony thought of him.

Still thinking about Tony saying that he looked good in his uniform, a week after the fact.

And then Steve got as far as remembering, I’ll put my top AI on it.

Tony saying, but I should probably finish with this project first .

…Steve knew that was a joke.

A friendly bit of banter – a polite way of saying, can you two stop wasting my time with office gossip .

He knew he wouldn’t be able to go to Tony for help again, after this was over. That had always been part of the deal.

…But it was a nice idea.

Steve was immediately drawn into it, suddenly daydreaming about a world in which he could drop by Tony’s house any time, or call him with questions, or work with him on any number of plans…

Maybe, if Steve saw him all the time, he could fantasise about other things happening-

And he knew it wouldn’t happen. He’d made this up out of nothing, based purely on what he wanted, without a shred of actual evidence – with plenty of evidence that it was impossible, as a matter of fact.

But, just knowing what it could look like…

Steve had spent the last few weeks over-thinking everything that had actually happened between them. Remembering little things Tony had said or done, and analysing them to death. And, okay, occasionally indulging in individual ideas – flashes of images, really – before he was forced to shake them away-

Because he’d just known they weren’t going anywhere.

Because he couldn’t even imagine an ending to that fantasy that made any sense, what he could possibly do after something like that happened – how they’d end up in that situation in the first place. He was aware, in the abstract, that he wanted it… But it was a bit like being in a hostage situation and just ‘hoping someone would rescue you’. You can’t daydream about it if you can’t think of a plan yourself. If you don’t know what the thing you want looks like, you can’t picture it.

And, suddenly, Steve felt like he could picture it.

As unlikely as that outcome was… he knew what it would look like. He could imagine himself, stopping by to see Tony a few times a week… building a genuine sort of trust, some sort of relationship… he could imagine that something more could happen between them, on nights like that, if nights like that existed…

… Aaaaaand now he couldn’t stop imagining it. 

Great.

*

When Steve and Bucky arrived for their seventh appointment, the lab was a mess.

Tony had meant to tidy everything away before they arrived. He’d gotten into the habit of cleaning up before these appointments… and getting himself sort of ready… and he’d tried not to analyse that overly much. Just something he did – probably because Rhodey had put the idea into his head – that didn’t necessarily reflect anything deeper. It wasn’t a big deal or anything-

Until the time he didn’t get to tidy up. Then it sort of felt like a big deal.

“Wow – did you get burgled or something?” Bucky asked light-heartedly as he picked his way through the chaos.

“Ah, no – the short answer is that I got carried away…” Tony answered, grateful that it wasn’t physically possible for him to blush.

“With what?” Steve asked, all enthusiastic and interested and… adorable…

“Oh, uh, body armour,” Tony short-handed, “Or, the theory of body armour, anyway…”

Tony felt as though his heart had stopped in his ribs, as Steve’s gaze hesitated on one of the prototype gauntlets that he’d left on the worktop. Even though he knew his heart wasn’t even beating in the first place… he didn’t know what else to call that sudden pressure in his chest.

But it wasn’t anxiety. Whatever it was… it was nicer than that...

“You wear this?” Steve inquired, looking up at Tony.

“Well, I don’t, obviously…” Tony laughed. “And, actually, no one will be wearing that one – that’s an older version. But, yeah, I was sort of thinking about wearable tech that you – that the Avengers, could use…”

Because, actually, Tony had spent a lot of the last few weeks thinking about tech that could keep the Avengers safe…Tech that could keep Steve safe. He’d started thinking that maybe he just didn’t do enough about it, that his interest in the Avengers should really be more than the hobby he’d made it into – that he should stop congratulating himself for the tech he’d already ‘gifted’ them, and think a bit harder about what more he could do…

“The idea is to think of it less as a weapon and more as a defence… although, it would be able to contain a weapon, obviously…”

“And you actually make them?” Steve pushed, his eyes alive with interest. Tony was momentarily thrown by the question, and when he hesitated, Steve clarified, “you don’t just make computer simulations, I mean? Or… figure it out on paper, or whatever…”

“Oh, no – I mean, initially , sometimes… But, I don’t know, I think you just understand things better when you build them,” Tony explained. “If you’re actually holding something in your hands, you can see everything it does, or doesn’t do. Other ideas come up, you know?”

“Yeah, I said that,” Steve smiled, his attention drifting back to the gauntlet again. “I mean, I mentioned it once, when Nick was talking about the computer simulations SHIELD used to run. I asked if anyone bothered building any of this stuff…. He said ‘we’ve moved on’, or something.”

Tony felt a little spike on interest. A physical jolt, like he’d literally been hooked by that statement-

He’d thought about this a thousand times.

He’d bored Rhodey and Pepper and even JARVIS about this topic, over and over again.

And Tony should probably have thought more about it, before he indulged this sudden feeling of connection… But he’d moved past that now. He’d just lived through too many false alarms at this stage, too many moments that felt like they might be the end of the world - and weren’t. He’d stopped fearing those moments when he’d remember that he wasn’t human, not because they’d stopped happening, but because every time they did happen Steve would still smile at him afterwards. He didn’t even know he’d stopped doing it, the way people never notice something when it isn’t there. And, without that, there was just the unexpected delight of finding someone who shared a niche interest. The thrill of having someone new to talk to about this. Just that.

“Common misconception,” he smiled, enthusiastically. “This idea that, because you have a new way to do it, you stop the old way altogether. I mean, sometimes that’s right – but, really, a lot of the time, you’ve just found another way of doing it. And, if you drop the first way completely, have you really progressed what you know? I mean, you haven’t really added to your knowledge, if you push something out every time you think of something new…”

“Nick made it sound like the computers just did the same thing but quicker.” Steve mused.

“Well, that isn’t true. The computers do something else completely. And, like I say – sometimes , that’s the thing you were trying to do with models. Some of the time, the computer is a faster, more accurate way to tell you what you were using models to guess. But, a lot of the time, a model will tell you something a computer isn’t even looking for…”

And then he saw Steve’s eyes flit, briefly, over to Bucky – and suddenly he remembered that he was supposed to be doing something else.

“Sorry,” Tony smiled, turning to address Bucky directly. “This has nothing to do with what you’re here for.”

“Oh, I’m in no rush,” Bucky assured them, brightly. “And, hey, I want to know if we’re getting armour …”

Tony laughed gently – trying not to get too carried away with the little stirring of happiness in his stomach.

He would have liked to carry on with this discussion.

He even considered it, for a second.

But… that was probably rude. With Bucky waiting to start a medical procedure, and all…

…Not, this is a dangerous conversation.

…Not, oh good, an excuse to get out while I’m ahead.

Just – no, that would probably be rude.

“You’re a long way off getting armour,” Tony clarified, apologetically. “And putting it off won’t mean you don’t have a procedure today. So.” And Bucky just shot him a playful look, spoilsport.

And then Tony glanced back at Steve….

He could’ve sworn , for just a second, that Steve looked disappointed

*

Bucky had another general anaesthetic on appointment number eight. And Steve didn’t want to say he liked it when Bucky went under general anaesthetic…

Although, in Steve’s defence, Bucky seemed far more relaxed about this – about all of it – since they’d started working with Tony. Steve was quite sure that, if Bucky was still as anxious about sedation as he used to be, he would still be as uncomfortable about these appointments. But, as it was…

Well, it wasn’t nice , or anything…

But there were upsides to it.

Steve did like being able to chat to Tony, just the two of them.

And, tonight, it was as good as it had ever been. He and Tony traded little observations, even little jokes, as Tony was working. There were call backs to things they’d talked about before, references they both got – a genuine sense of familiarity, despite the cacophony of reactions that Tony still sparked in him.

This time, there wasn’t that little pause when Tony stood up from his work. This time, they were already in the middle of a conversation – the talk they’d almost started last week, about the true nature of progress.

By the time Tony was standing with him, calmly waiting for Bucky to come around, Steve felt a genuine contentment that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He was happy – excited even – that this chat with Tony seemed to be going so well.

He was delighted, maybe even a little bit relieved, to be able to have such a natural and diverting conversation with anyone .

He was glad of the excuse to watch Tony smile…

And then, as a natural part of this comfortable little exchange, Tony asked him,

“Who’s Leslie Gibson, by the way?”

Steve blinked, momentarily shocked that Tony knew that name… But then he remembered the throw-away joke that Bucky had made earlier in the evening, when it took him two attempts to jump up onto the operating table.

“Oh, he’s a guy I had a… thing with, during the war,” Steve answered casually. “One time he got very drunk, and tried to jump up and sit on the bar of this pub we were in, and fell right over the back of it – that’s what Bucky was referring to.”

“…A thing?” Tony prompted, a warm sort of intrigue in his voice.

“He had a big house on the French border, and he used to rent rooms out – like a bed and breakfast, without the breakfast,” Steve laughed at the memory. “And the Commando’s stayed there for like, a month, I think? While we were tracking a Hydra scientist… But, y’know, we knew we weren’t going to be there long, so it wasn’t a serious thing, obviously. Just… a thing.” And he shrugged, and glanced back at Tony-

Who was giving him the most interested look…

Steve raised his eyebrows, what ? Even though, really, he already knew what had grabbed Tony’s attention. He hadn’t thought about it when he was saying it, but he recognised it now…

And he liked it.

He didn’t know why … But, immediately, Steve liked the idea of Tony taking an interest in his romantic life. He liked the fact that Tony seemed surprised.

“Honestly? I guess I didn’t expect Captain America to have a thing, with a guy,” Tony admitted, with a self-conscious shrug.

“Yeah, they left that side of things out of the comic books,” Steve smiled – deliberately indulging this.

“So… Not just this guy, then?” Tony pressed on, very carefully.

“Actually, mostly, it was women,” Steve answered. “Meeting… other men, was a bit trickier, back then. But, yeah, there were some.”

And, for a moment, Steve was so distracted by the look on Tony’s face, so enamoured with the idea that he’d caught Tony’s attention that way, that it didn’t occur to him-

He was talking about sex.

And, even when it did occur to him, it didn’t scare him. Steve knew this was something he didn’t normally talk about – he knew he shouldn’t want to talk about this with Tony , of all people… And yet here he was, right in the middle of it, feeling…

Like a normal person.

Or, maybe better than that-

“And now?” Tony asked, like the thought had just occurred to him.

And Steve was used to people taking an interest in his love life – Natasha asked for a post-mortem every time he talked to anyone new, and Sam had a seemingly endless list of single people to wax lyrical about, whenever they went out for drinks – so it didn’t occur to him to wonder why Tony wanted to know. He just answered.

“Oh, now, not so much…”

“It’s not actually any less tricky , in the 21st Century…?” Tony guessed. And Steve smiled.

“Yeah, you could say that…”

And then a monitor beeped.

…And Tony ignored it.

*

Tony was in a good mood, on the evening of their ninth appointment. 

He was looking forward to seeing Steve again. He’d spent the whole day happily thinking about the things they’d talked about, and wondering what sort of week Steve had, and remembering things he’d thought of saying to him, over the last few days. 

He’d smiled, as he tidied up his workshop - he might even have been humming. 

And then he’d got as far as clearing away the body armour he’d been working on. At first, there was a little lift in his chest, as he remembered Steve taking an interest in it before. Another little flicker of excitement, as he thought about telling Steve how far it had come. Thinking that Steve would be interested to see it. Wondering if it would be finished… before…

Before he stops coming here .

And it was like a little light inside him died. 

Tony already felt cold, as he started to count how many sessions they had left… Not as many as they’d had so far.

But that time had rushed by so quickly-

God, this would all be over so soon-

Out of nowhere, he remembered Rhodey asking him, but what if you just have a funny, interesting conversation - and that’s it? Wouldn’t that be better?

Tony’s first thought was that he wasn’t sure it was better, actually. He hadn’t worked out what this slow, crawling sadness was, exactly… but ‘better’ wasn’t the word. 

He tried to remember that conversation... to remember the person he was when he had that conversation. None of the things he’d said seemed to fit now. None of the things he could remember thinking felt familiar in his head. 

The things he was worried about now would never have occurred to him, then. 

Back then, Tony was just worried that any change to his routine would upset his numbed denial, that having any sort of connection would just remind him how lonely he was… That Steve would become an avatar for all the experiences he’d never have, and this whole arrangement would sharpen all the hurt that was already there. 

He’d never considered that he might miss Steve. He’d not considered that he might really fall for him, that he’d... like Steve, like this. That it might hurt to lose him.

That the pain of losing Steve might be worse than any of it...

Back then, Tony was worried that it would just be awkward and painful for months, that he’d have nothing to talk about, that he’d be permanently anxious about slipping up…

He’d not thought that maybe it would be easy and natural and nice. That he’d end up changing his entire outlook without even realising. 

And back then, Tony was so worried that one of them would work out that he was a vampire –  because then his secret might get out, and then there would be all that trouble to deal with.

He never imagined he’d trust Steve to keep that secret under pain of torture, if Tony asked him to.

He never imagined that he’d only care about Steve knowing it… That he’d feel so sick at the idea of Steve thinking of him that way, that it would hurt his feelings so much to think of Steve recoiling from him…

That a tiny little part of Tony would kind of want to tell him - Jesus, that was a terrifying impulse. Like standing on a high ledge and realising a little part of you really wanted to jump-

He just hadn’t expected a crisis of self on this scale. 

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have arrived, Sir,” JARVIS informed him - and Tony flinched.

Already?

God, how long had he long had he lost to that mental spiral…? But he didn’t have time to think about it.  Immediately, he resolved that he would just have to put all this aside until they were gone. Wait until he had time to think about it properly, reserve this breakdown for when it wouldn’t make anyone else uncomfortable…

And he didn’t want to waste this time with Steve. 

So, he tried his best to cover it. He hoped he sounded more cheerful than he felt, when he welcomed them both, and asked how their week had gone.

He tried to lose himself in Steve’s easy, earnest conversation, the way he had for the last few months. Tony tried to focus on all the things he liked about it, rather than the void he’d feel once it was gone.

He was so consumed with that conflict, the constant effort of sounding happy without thinking about why he wasn’t, that he didn’t have the headspace left to think about anything else. He wasn’t watching what either of them were doing-

Until, halfway someway through some meaningless observation, he noticed Steve about to rest his hand on the workspace just behind the examination table – and Tony’s whole body jarred upright with a sudden stab of adrenaline.

Hot .

Just that one word, like an alarm in his head – Tony didn’t have time to remember what it meant. He couldn’t think of how to warn him,

That’s a soldering board-

I was literally just using it-

It’s only just stopped glowing red-

Tony couldn’t form the words. Not in time.

There was only that awful, urgent knowledge that Steve was about to hurt himself-

And then, all of a sudden, Tony was snatching Steve’s wrist out of mid-air.

And then time just stopped .

There was an endless, bottomless moment, in which Tony was just holding onto Steve’s wrist – and Steve was just looking at him.

An… honest look… visceral, almost animal – just so aware -

And then, finally, Tony recognised why Steve was so shocked. He realised how quickly he’d  managed to move across that workshop. How firmly he still had a hold of Steve’s arm. Not as strong a grip as it could have been, because Tony had been thinking of protecting Steve – but strong enough to have given Captain America pause, apparently.

Tony dropped Steve’s wrist, and took a step back, and tried to kick start his brain again.

“Sorry, that’s hot,” he muttered, gesturing to the surface Steve was about to lean on. And Steve didn’t even turn to look at it – he just kept looking at Tony, his eyes full of questions… alive with excitement.

Tony felt a thrill race though him, somewhere between exhilarated and disgusted.

A sharp, stabbing panic that was kind of compulsive – like a wound he wanted to pick.

A hot tangle of thoughts that he couldn’t form into English-

Something about having screwed it up and needed to cover his tracks and wanting so desperately to pursue it-

“Sorry, that’s my bad, I should’ve said…” Tony carried on murmuring, hardly hearing himself speak.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t just…” Steve started, and seemed to lose himself in the middle of it – obviously so much more interested in something else.

At last, Tony heard some actual words in his head.  

Shit, he knows

It will be so bad, if he knows

I want him to know

He can’t possibly know

Say something, or he will know

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“Right, I should probably focus on uninjuring people, before I injure any more people,” he babbled, turning his attention back to Bucky.

“Uh, yeah, sure, right…” Bucky muttered, glancing awkwardly back to the examination table, like he was trying to remember what he did next.

“You’re okay, right? You didn’t burn yourself?” Tony added, without looking at Steve.

But he could feel Steve looking at him.

“No, I didn’t burn myself” Steve whispered, in a voice that sent a shiver up Tony’s spine.

“Okay, good,” Tony added quietly, not really talking to Steve anymore. Already turning to walk over to Bucky, desperately thinking of how to push past this awful event…

Subtly flexing his hand, now hanging nervously at his side.

Somewhere, amongst all the shame and panic and adrenaline, it occurred to him…

That was the first time he’d ever actually touched Steve. 

Chapter Text

Tony was lying on top of the covers, still wide awake, when the sun came up the following morning.

Not that Tony knew that the sun had come up. Tony wasn’t aware of anything outside of his own head. The relentless churning of shame and panic, the fruitless attempt to find the words for it, the constant reruns of nightmare scenarios he’d spent the whole night thinking up. Mostly, he just felt bad. Worried and uncomfortable. Unclean .

He’s spent hours trying to ignore it, rationalise it, put it into some sort of order – but the awfulness of it was so loud that he couldn’t think over the top of it. Trying to keep his head quiet for a minute was like trying to hold your breath when you have the hiccups. The ideas would just leap in, entirely oblivious to his attempts to control them. 

He kept thinking back to various points in that awful, awkward appointment. The meaningless comments he’d made, because he couldn’t mention what he was so anxious about… growing ever more anxious, the longer it went unsaid. 

The times he could swear he’d seen Steve glance down at his wrist, or run his other hand over it, and wanted so much to ask him or reassure him or cover… but, obviously, that would’ve been suspicious. 

The stilted way they’d said goodbye, the way Steve couldn’t quite meet his eye.

The way Steve looked at him, when it happened-

Oh, he’d gotten in so far over his head.

He’d been so reckless and irresponsible and ridiculous , to ever let it get this far.

Okay, calm down. You only grabbed his wrist. Maybe he didn’t think anything of it. And even if he’s worked out that you’re strong, it doesn’t mean he’s worked out that you’re a vampire-

Wasn’t working, obviously. The anxiety was all about what might be true. The fear of what if Steve knew the truth, or if he was somewhere trying to work it out, or if he was unnerved and disgusted by Tony now… the fact that it might not be true didn’t stop Tony worrying about what would happen if it was.

Okay, so, how bad is this, really? What’s the worst that can happen? You know he wouldn’t tell anyone, or sell you out-

Well, obviously. That didn’t make Tony feel any better, because he’d never worried about that in the first place. And, more to the point, he didn’t care about that anyway. The idea of Steve sitting somewhere now, repulsed or frightened or uncomfortable with the idea of Tony, was worse than the thought of his secret being announced on the six o’clock news. Tony didn’t care who else found out – which was a worrying thought, in and of itself.

And you knew this thing couldn’t last. Whatever happened, you were never going to see him again after next month -

Wasn’t going to make Tony feel better, was it? He’d been terrified of that thought anyway, before ‘the event’. That’s why he hated this so much – because it brought that day so much closer. Because it had reminded him that the whole thing was just play pretend, and had always been play pretend, even when he’d slipped into thinking of it as real.

And he didn’t want to stop thinking of it as real-

Arg. This was a disaster. He’d done the very thing he’d warned himself against at the start. The one thing he should have been safeguarding against this whole time – the reason he shouldn’t have said yes in the first place-

Oh, don’t say that -

He just couldn’t believe that he’d let himself fall into this, after twenty years of telling himself not to, after all that thought he gave it. All those reasons that he could never be normal, all that evidence that he could never have what other people had, and all it had taken was a nice guy with a pretty smile-

He’s not just that.

Tony had been flinching away from that little voice for hours now. Truthfully, he was a bit scared of it. Somehow aware of the power it held, the damage it could do, if he gave it the slightest chance.

Tony knew he had to step away from Steve, that he had to accept losing him, that he had to limit the harm he’d already caused… but he so didn’t want any of that. That was it. That was the sole basis for the nagging, emotionally manipulative counter argument that kept piping up in his head.

But you’ll be so miserable when he’s gone

But you are happy when he’s here

But he has such a pretty smile

All ridiculous, and nonsensical – and, anyway, irrelevant.

Even if it were true that Steve was special and wonderful and the reason Tony smiled these days… that didn’t mean Tony could keep him. It didn’t provide any way for this to work, it didn’t magically make any of the risks disappear.

And he had to keep telling himself that.

Because, if he didn’t, he just knew he’d end up thinking something really foolish. Or doing something really foolish, without thinking about it, because every instinct in his body was telling him to sabotage himself.

Which meant there were only two ways for this to go.

He could make himself take a step back, force himself to live by reason, take all those painful but necessary precautions. He could think about how to condense Bucky’s treatments into fewer appointments, make sure not to engage in personal conversations… Just tell Steve not to come with him, next time. All of which was just unbearable, obviously.

But the only other outcome was that Tony carried on down this oblivious, self-destructive path. Talking to Steve without thinking it through, walking around without his guard up – letting himself get carried away in daydreams about Steve, without ever preparing himself for the day he lost him.

The absolute best Tony could hope for then was that he got through to the inevitable end of this, and had his heart shattered. Far more likely was that he slipped up again before then. And then he’d have to watch Steve recoil in horror, which would hurt so much more. Or, he’d watch Steve get confused, or angry… or, the outside chance that he’d leer, and say it sounded fun . All of it was so much worse than any of the things Tony had thought to worry about at the start. Turned out, Tony had more to protect himself from - and so much more to protect - than he’d ever realised-

But what if he was different ?

Oh, Tony knew he shouldn’t even entertain this idea. He knew he’d be lost forever, if he gave that little voice the slightest chance…

But he’d spent all night fighting it.

And he so wanted to indulge this.

And… What if that little voice did have a point?

You know he’s different.

Suddenly, Tony could feel himself standing in front of a distinct line. A moment that could fundamentally tip the balance. A moment there may be no coming back from.  

This might be the moment he finally caved.

This might be when he allowed himself to believe, however briefly, that everything he thought he knew was wrong...

He felt like he was having an actual crisis of faith. Like he was looking back on a lifetime of religious devotion. The decision to seriously think about changing, to consider that there might be an alternative, was a huge step in itself.

Should he simply have faith that all of his previous fears were well founded? Should he try to convince himself that Steve wasn’t special, and that he would be just fine without him – that this whole obsession was a symptom of the very problem he had to fix? Should he stick with his tried and tested mantra, that this was how it had to be and how it would always be and there was no point getting upset about it?

That unwavering acceptance might be the only thing that stops me going insane.

Not thinking about the future, not thinking about all the things I can’t have… It took so long to reach this point…

Could he really bear to hope that there was a way out of this? Could he stand the agony of seriously searching for a way to make this work – would he be able to cope, when the answer was still no, and he didn’t have the cloak of inevitability to protect him? Would he ever be able to go back to his life of sad resignation, once he’d acknowledged that it wasn’t sacred or indelible?

But what if Steve is different?

What if Steve really wouldn’t mind that you’re a vampire?

…And Tony could actually imagine that.

Which wasn’t the same as believing it was true… But, up until now, Tony couldn’t think of a way someone could react ‘well’. He didn’t know what to daydream about, what he’d even be hoping for.

But, thinking about Steve …

Tony could at least imagine Steve hearing that news, and not freaking out. He could imagine Steve listening, calmly, and kindly… he could believe that Steve would still look at him the same way afterwards.

…He could imagine Steve taking an interest.

He could imagine Steve asking questions that weren’t cruel or personal. Actually listening to the answers. Caring about the answers.

He could imagine Steve forgetting all about it, until it came up – and then just mentioning it, like it wasn’t a big deal, rather than dancing around it or pausing awkwardly.

Tony had no idea how much he wanted all of that, until this moment. He hadn’t known it existed, to want it. He couldn’t have come up with all of that from nothing… but he could so easily imagine Steve doing all of it-

And then he remembered the way Steve’s eyes had widened. The hot flash of fear, in the second Tony snatched his wrist… The way it darkened into something else, as his gaze fell on Tony’s fingers.

Tony felt an ache in his entire body, and had no idea what to call it. He’d been replaying that moment, over and over, all night. Always with a flinching pain in this stomach, and a general feeling of shame… But this time it felt different.

He remembered the way Steve’s arm flexed, almost playfully, against Tony’s grip

The way he parted his lips

…such beautiful lips.

And he thought of Steve being kind, and compassionate, and interested , if Tony ever told him.

He imagined the way that Steve would look at him, if Tony ever showed him what it meant.

…What if you wouldn’t really mind if Steve liked it?

And Tony had been so sure, just a few minutes earlier, than he’d never want anyone to like him being a vampire. That had always been a given, a fact. And while the rest of his lonely, claustrophobic existence had been thrust upon him, his hatred of vampire fetishists was all his own. He felt that one, as well as thinking it. To question that really was to question everything-

But he was questioning it. It was all too late.

And, again , Tony replayed that scene in his head-

The way Steve’s eyes lit up,

The way he relaxed into the grip

The way he looked at Tony…

Tony wondered… Was it possible that he liked the idea of being a vampire, for Steve?

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He knew that couldn’t be right – he knew it wasn’t right . It was… creepy, and against everything he’d ever believed and, just… wrong -

But that ache in his body only grew, the longer he tried to ignore this revelation. Until these thoughts overwhelmed his resistance to them, and all the questions were right there in his head,

What if it could be different with Steve?

What if it was possible for someone to like that side of him, without it being creepy?

What if it was possible for Tony not to hate that part of himself…even just for a few minutes, with someone very special…

And then Tony was imagining it.

He hadn’t meant to…But it just took so little effort – it just happened.

He thought of Steve, his Steve, looking at him like that… What might’ve happened, if it had been just the two of them there, if Steve already knew and there was no drama or trauma or complicated conversation to have…

If Tony could’ve met his eye, and smiled…

That ache twisted sharply, and Tony realised that he was already hard.

A hot flush of shame ran up his spine. He’d never done this, in all the time he’d been hidden away. He’d touched himself, of course he had, but only because that bodily, sexual tension became too much to bear. A functional process, designed to meet a purely physical need. He had always relied on generic images, basic fantasy scenarios… some of which might’ve started to look more like Steve, in the last few weeks… But Tony had never inserted himself into any kind of fantasy. That was the thing. He’d always hated his own body, his own being, too much – he turned himself off, thinking of an undead, unnatural creature in the middle of it.

Instinctively, he told himself no . He couldn’t-

But he still had the image of Steve in his mind, nonjudgmental, and interested, and… excited. He imagined Steve telling him, yes, you can…

Steve, who had never felt any differently about Bucky even after everything that HYDRA did to him – Steve, who hated what had been done to Bucky, and still didn’t hate any part of him. 

Steve, who defended enhanced beings as people rather than political points. Steve, who hadn’t made Tony feel like a weird, awkward recluse…

Tony wouldn’t feel ashamed if Steve was really there, he knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t feel unnatural. He’d feel safe, and valid, and… Strong .

Tony’s cock pulsed sharply, and he touched himself before he could think to stop it. Just an impulsive response to pain, at first. But then he felt that friction shock through his body, a blissful relief and a deeper ache all at once. He froze, knowing that he couldn’t do this … Oh, but he couldn’t stop now…

It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.

Tony heard it in Steve’s voice, his hips rocking up into his hand involuntarily, as the scene unfolded in his head.

Steve, tearing his gaze away from Tony’s grip, looking him right in the eye and telling him, it’s okay .

That warm, low voice he used sometimes, that almost-smile on his lips.

Tony could imagine the way that smile would flicker. He could so easily picture Steve parting his lips, taking a sharp breath as Tony pushed him back against the counter-

Steve wouldn’t break, if Tony did that. He wouldn’t get hurt, or scared, or defensive…

He might like it…

But Tony could imagine what it would look like if he did. That was all that mattered in this moment – not how likely it was, not now many problems it would cause, not analysing the reasons Steve might have for liking it. Just the mental image of Steve, relaxing into his grip, smiling at him, whispering, yes .

Tony could imagine himself dropping Steve’s wrist, so that he could finally run his palms over that impossible body-

He could imagine how Steve would feel, strong and solid and soft and giving, under his hands-

He could imagine letting his fingers trail over Steve’s stomach… sliding his hands under the waistband of Steve’s jeans, touching Steve the way he was touching himself, feeling Steve’s hips roll to meet him like this

Steve liking it… Not because Tony was a vampire, or in spite of Tony being a vampire… Just liking it…

It all ran away from him so quickly.

Tony thought about kissing him. God , Tony wanted to kiss him. He’d wanted to kiss him for weeks, to feel Steve pressed against him, to have that beautiful mouth-

He thought about having Steve in his bed, not worried about what he might find there, not thinking he didn’t belong. Steve, naked and relaxed and wanting , letting Tony pin his arms above his head. His arms tensing against Tony’s grip, and then relenting to it… like he had before .

He thought of Steve baring his neck for him, letting Tony run his tongue along his throat, not being afraid-

Tony could imagine how warm and soft Steve’s skin would feel under his lips,

Under his teeth-

Tony came, sudden and sharp and completely unexpectedly, his whole body trembling with the force of it-

He wasn’t sure this was a pleasant experience.

It was just so intense, so disorienting… and the guilt rushed in so quickly. A hot, nauseating shame that rolled through him along with the aftershocks – making it all one and the same thing.

Oh, what had he done-

What had he become -

Tony snatched a tissue from the box on his bedside table, wiping his hands far too roughly – completely disgusted with himself.

He wanted to peel his own skin off, he felt so unclean.

He had shower – he had to do something , he had to run from this somehow -

And then his phone rang.

He answered it purely to shut it up – it was just one thing too many. He wasn’t even planning on waiting to find out whether it was Pepper or Rhodey. Whichever one it was, they’d just have to understand that he couldn’t do this right now. He’d already opened his mouth to say it-

“Uh, hi, Tony?”

And Tony just froze, entirely confused.

“Bucky?” He heard himself ask.

“Hi, sorry, I know it’s a stupid time in the morning,” Bucky started, apologetically. “But, you said to call immediately if I felt any pain in the arm…?”

“Oh, yeah, no, of course, right…” Tony babbled, willing his brain to catch up with his mouth. Hearing Bucky’s tone before he heard the actual words, feeling gently reassured that Bucky didn’t sound panicked… And then he realised what Bucky just said. “You’re in pain? What sort of pain?”

“Oh, nothing bad – I just keep feeling… I don’t know, they almost feel like muscle cramps? In my shoulder, mostly…”

Even in the midst of a personal breakdown, Tony found himself trying to work that out. Thinking back to the treatment yesterday with far more clarity than he’d thought about anything, all night. Maybe it was just the focusing effect of his responsibility for Bucky’s health, but – amazingly – Tony was actually able to concentrate. And then he remembered why he told Bucky to call him immediately.

“When did this start?”

“In the last few minutes,” Bucky answered. And then, slightly hesitantly, “Why, is that bad?”

“No, actually,” Tony reassured him automatically, already running calculations in his head. “In a weird way, it’s a good thing. It means the, uh… bad connection, for want of another word, is probably in the joint we updated yesterday. I think it’s gotten… confused , by the chip we added – like, literally by the physical intrusion of it…” And then Tony paused, and shook his head, and reminded himself that Bucky probably wasn’t interested in theory, right now. “But, the point is, this means that a) we’ve probably found the problem, which saves any more exploratory surgery and b) the problem happens to be in an accessible place, so that should make fixing it much easier.”

“Oh, okay,” Bucky breathed, sounding relieved. “So, do I just wait until I see you next week?”

“No, it’ll have to be sooner than that,” Tony answered, easily – because, hey, he knew that one. That was the whole reason Bucky had to call him right away and report this symptom. Tony knew, if he acted quickly enough, he could use that pain to locate the problem. If he waited, the ‘bad connection’ would just find another inefficient way to mask its own issues, and possibly infect all the work Tony had done so far.

So. There was a nice, objective certainty.

“Can you come in tonight?” He sighed

“Yeah, of course,”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” Tony managed – and hung up before Bucky could say anything.

He was just so fucking weary, all of a sudden.

Burnt out with it. Beyond it.

Already at rock bottom.

He had finally become everything he’d always hated. Or, maybe he’d always been like this, and he’d simply been in denial… whatever. The point was, there was no running from it anymore. He was every bit as warped as all the vampire fetishists he loathed; he was every bit the bloodthirsty monster than the fairy tales made him out to be. He had literally come all over his own hand, at the very thought of Steve wanting Tony to bite him. There was no going lower than that, no coming back from it, nothing more to say.

He was about to lose the only thing he’d cared about in twenty years, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way to prepare himself for it, there would be no making it better once it happened – by working out where the problem was, ahead of schedule, he’d actually just brought that date forward. And there was no answer to any of that, either.

His life was sad, and lonely, and entirely without hope. And he’d remembered that now, and there was no unknowing it. Like realising he had actually preferred the feeling of unwavering religious faith… but there was no getting it back, once he’d questioned it. Too late now.

And Tony knew he should panic about the fact that Steve was coming back tonight… But he just…

His shoulders slumped under the weight of his own existence.

He couldn’t think about this anymore. He was just too tired. Too fucking miserable.

He decided he would just get up, and have a shower… and then he might as well try to get some sleep, before they got here. The very least he could do was to be well rested and cognitively aware when he performed surgery tonight…

That might be all he could do, at this stage.

*

Steve stepped into the elevator right behind Bucky… subtly running his hand over his wrist, again.

He kept expecting to see some sort of mark on his skin, although he wasn’t sure what it would look like, exactly. It didn’t feel like a bruise or a burn or a scar… It just felt different. Like Steve could still feel the shock of it, the echo of that sudden, powerful grip-

 Steve swallowed, and let his arms fall to his sides. Oh, he wished he’d had more time to process this. He knew that there was something significant about it, that there was something that should’ve occurred to him. He knew there was something…different, about the strength of Tony’s grip or how quickly he could move. Steve knew he should think more of it than the things that had immediately occurred to him-

The thrill of having Tony actually touch him.

The thought of Tony rushing in to protect him.

…The instant jolt of feeling something solid push against him, someone he couldn’t merely toss aside-

Steve didn’t know what to call the reaction he had – was still having – to Tony grabbing him like that. He thought he liked it, although he wasn’t sure why he liked it, or… how he liked it. Whether this was a physical response or an emotional one. What exactly it made him think about, or feel, or… want. Steve would have liked a day or two to work on that. And then maybe he’d have gotten around to wondering how Tony did it, and what it meant-

But then Bucky had so casually informed him that they were going back for an ‘unscheduled appointment’ – and Steve knew his only concern should be the treatment they were here for, the pain Bucky was in… But, Jesus, he wasn’t ready to do this yet.

Should I mention it?

Should I make sure it doesn’t come up?

What if he mentions it?

If he asks what I think – what do I think?

Not that he’d be able to tell Tony what he thought about it, even if he did find the words. Steve wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now, but he was sure it was something intimate and personal, and fundamentally entangled with his crush on Tony… Something he could never explain to Tony, even if he managed to explain it to himself.

But he couldn’t help thinking it would help, to be able to explain it to himself. That, if he knew what he was feeling right now, he’d have a better chance of working out what to do about it.

As it was, the elevator had just settled into place on the right floor, so Steve was going to have to do something with his face… He let go of a little breath, and had to stop himself grabbing his wrist again.

“Are you still mad at me for not waking you up this morning?” Bucky asked, just as the doors slid open.

“What? No, of course not,” Steve frowned – he couldn’t remember being mad at Bucky in the first place. Actually, he couldn’t remember much of the last twenty-four hours, now he came to think of it… He wasn’t even entirely sure how their last appointment ended. Everything became a bit of a haze, after ‘the event’.

“Well, something’s up with you,” Bucky observed, as they stepped into the workshop.

And Steve had just started scrambling for a reply to that, when Tony strolled over to meet them,

“Hey guys.”

And, already, Steve knew something was wrong. He could hear it, in those two little syllables – something was different, or… missing…

“How’s the pain, now?” Tony turned to talk to Bucky directly, his voice perfectly pleasant and professional.

“Comes and goes,” Bucky shrugged. “Has been all day. S’not really gotten any better, or worse, or anything.”

“Hm,” Tony considered Bucky’s shoulder for a moment. “About here?” He guessed, gesturing vaguely to one of the panels on Bucky’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“Okay, so, you remember I said before, that there was probably one faulty component that was causing all the, uh, confusion ?” Tony began, coolly. “Well, most of the work we’ve done so far hasn’t been about finding or fixing that unit. So far, we’ve mainly been installing the ‘work around’, putting in place a non-organic neurological interface that actually works , before we even thought about the one that doesn’t…”

Steve could feel his heart getting heavier, with every cold, functional sentence that Tony uttered. He could feel how distant Tony was, how different this was from the warm, conversational place they’d been in just last week. This wasn’t even the awkward, slightly brusque Tony that Steve had met at the beginning of this – Tony was acting like he didn’t even know them. Like they were just two of hundreds of anonymous clients he saw every day. Like Steve meant nothing to him.

And then Steve felt his throat tighten treacherously, and suddenly he was finding it hard to control his breathing.

He was just so hurt-

“…But, if this means we have found the bad connection, then we’ve found it earlier than I was expecting,” Tony carried on, seemingly oblivious. “And that actually makes the rest of the treatment much easier – probably means you’ll be done with me sooner than you thought.”

And Steve swore he could literally feel his heart break. Like his chest had caved in, and he was already dying. It was only the shock of it that stopped him from sobbing-

He couldn’t believe Tony didn’t care .

Worse even than the thought of never seeing Tony again was the thought that he’d be so casual about it, that he’d nonchalantly throw it out there as a bit of cheerful news – that he didn’t even look at Steve when he said it.

I thought you liked me…

Steve swallowed again, hot and bitter and painful, and forced himself to take a slow breath. For a moment, he was glad neither of them was looking at him.

You have to get a grip .

Stop thinking about it. You can’t think about it.

You just have to get through it .

He had to keep his eyes lowered, as he followed Tony and Bucky over to the examination bench. He tried to pay attention as Tony explained the step-by-step details of the procedure… But it was just a list of words in his head. Steve couldn’t engage his brain at all right now.

And then he saw Tony pick on one of his many custom-made tools, those delicate, clever hands that Steve knew so well by now… He looked up before he could stop himself. Looking for a smile that wasn’t there, a light that was missing from his eyes…

What’s wrong, Tony?

What did I do?

Why-

No. Stop. You have to stop.

He would not cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Huh, that’s interesting,” Tony muttered under his breath, squinting at the joint at the top of Bucky’s shoulder. “Dr…Stape, was it? The ‘leading neurologist’? Did he install any actual hardware when he worked on your arm?”

“Well, he wasn’t really a talker,” Bucky remembered dryly. “He didn’t really tell me any of what he was doing… But I don’t remember him saying anything about installing anything…” And then he glanced over at Steve, for confirmation, and his eyes immediately widened in alarm.

Well, Bucky knows you’re upset now. Great.

You’ll never hear the end of this.

Please don’t say anything Buck .

“Only wiring,” Steve answered, with some difficulty. “He was, uh, quite proud of his patented, innovative wiring… But, no, nothing about hardware…”

“Hm… It’s listed in the medical notes as wiring,” Tony mused, like he was talking to himself. “Not sure that’s entirely accurate, as a categorisation…” And he pondered for half a minute longer, and then added, “Okay, this is potentially a little bit more complicated than I thought – but it’s fine, the principle is the same. I’m just going to have to be a bit more careful…. And do a few things first…” And he walked back over to his tray of tools, not even glancing up.

Steve felt invisible.

He felt tiny, and lost, and confused.

He felt utterly ridiculous. Embarrassed by how hurt he was, embarrassed that he apparently cared so much more than Tony did – embarrassed that it had come as such a shock.

“Okay, I’m going to have to ask you to try and stay really still,” Tony explained apologetically, as he took a screwdriver – or, something a bit like a screwdriver – and very gently lifted one of the smaller panels away from the tip of Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve let his eyes fall on Bucky’s arm, staring somewhere far beyond it, getting lost in the middle distance. He let Tony fade into his peripheral vision, and then he let his vision fade away from his attention altogether. He fell into the silence he was forcing into his own head, concentrating too hard on not thinking to look at anything at all-

Until he saw Bucky’s hand curl into a fist.

“Woah, hang on,” Bucky yelped, obviously alarmed. Steve stood to attention, immediately back in the room, as Tony took a little step back.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, urgently. “Are you okay?”

“Something else did that,” Bucky blurted, giving his own arm an incredulous look.

“Something else did what?” Tony asked, as he walked around the examination table to face him, “What happened? Are you-”

And then Bucky drew back his shoulder, and threw back his arm, and punched Tony right in the jaw – with enough force to send him flying clear across the workshop.

“ Tony!” Steve outright screamed, throwing himself forward in a desperate attempt to get to him. And then he heard Bucky gasp and stopped on instinct, turning just in time to see him drive his fist into the top of the examination table – breaking clear through the surface in a screech of tortured metal. Steve’s professional instincts kicked in and he immediately moved to contain the situation, running to get behind Bucky and pin both of his arms behind his back.

“Woah, woah! It’s okay, it’s okay…” Steve yelled automatically, scrambling to come up with a strategy for this. He realised that only one of Bucky’s arms was fighting him, before Bucky could get the words out,

“It’s not me, I’m not doing this-”

And then, suddenly, Tony was standing right there next to him.

Oh, thank God he’s okay-

The relief was so overwhelming that his grip slipped. And then Bucky jerked forward, and Steve snapped back into battle mode, pulling Bucky tighter against him.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…” Tony assured, taking a confident step forward, screwdriver already in hand. He popped another panel free, and dropped his head to look at it. The examination table shook as Bucky’s metal arm crashed into the side of it, flailing against Steve’s restraint. “It’s alright, two seconds, we got this…” Tony murmured, his eyes sharply determined as he twisted the screwdriver just slightly, and lifted just so -

And then Bucky’s arm fell limp at his side.

For a few seconds, the workshop was full of the sound of anguished panting, as each of them tried to calm themselves down. Steve just about managed a breathless are you okay? Not sure himself which one of them he was talking to… and neither of them could answer him, for another moment.

And then Tony found his voice.

“Okay… I’m so sorry about that…” He started – and then, when Bucky’s eyes snapped up to his, full of confusion and anguish, Tony added more forcefully “That was my fault. Or, no, that was really the fault of the last guy that worked on this-”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky broke in, his voice hoarse “Are you-”

“ I’m fine.” Tony assured him, firmly. “And, you’re going to be fine. I know that was horrible, but, actually, this is good – I mean, at least we’ve found the bug now. We can fix this right now , okay? It’s going to be okay.” And he waited for Bucky to nod at him, somewhat numb, before he looked over at Steve. “Okay, I have a bio-engineering kit, in the cabinet by the sink over there.” He pointed to the left of the workshop-

Steve’s head was still spinning.

He still flooded by the adrenaline that had kicked in at the thought of anything happening to either of them-

He didn’t have Tony’s technical knowledge to reassure him. He didn’t know what the fuck had just happened – he had no way to be sure that the danger had passed.

He was still in combat mode – he just followed Tony’s instructions, the way he followed commands in battle. Because, in times of imminent threat, you had to focus on the immediate, and trust in the people you’d accepted as an authority…

If there was any stirring of doubt in that moment, any initial idea that something was strange… Steve had to ignore that right now. He had to focus.

He was already moving to where Tony was pointing, as Tony carried on,

“It looks like a laptop, and it’s bright yellow – you can’t miss it.”

Steve threw open the first two cabinets, scanning only for the colour yellow. Nope. Next.

But the next cabinet wouldn’t open.

“Tony, some of these are locked,” he called out. He could hear the gentle murmur of Tony still reassuring Bucky, cut short with an impatient sigh.

“Right, yeah, JARVIS, unlock all the workshop cabinets,” Tony said, dismissively.

“…All of them, sir?” JARVIS enquired, sounding sceptical – but he’d barely finished the last word before Tony clarified, tetchily,

“Yes, all of them,” and then he let go of a frustrated little breath, and turned back to Bucky, the low lull of reassurance starting up again.

There was a gentle clicking sound all around Steve’s head, as all the cabinets in the workshop unlatched. Instantly, Steve went back to throwing open the doors, still just looking for yellow.

He found a cupboard full of dull silver implements – no.

He found a cabinet full of deep, dark red – no.

He opened the final cabinet, his eyes immediately drawn to the flash of bright yellow in the corner. Focused on it and only it, until he had the item in his hands…

And then, once that immediate task had been completed, a little part of his brain was freed to think back to the cabinet he’d just opened…

To recall the flash of claret red that he’d just seen… to wonder what it was…

Steve glanced back at it.

Rows and rows of glass vials…

Full of blood.

Tony has an entire cabinet full of blood…

Suddenly, the crisis that had just been so all consuming faded entirely. Steve completely forgot about the kit he was holding – it was total fluke that it didn’t fall from his hand.

He’d only just recognised…

Bucky had just punched Tony in the face, hard enough to throw him forty feet-

Steve knew what a full-force blow to the face from The Winter Solider felt like – just how much strength that arm was capable of when Bucky had no way to restrain it-

It was a miracle that it hadn’t killed Tony

It was impossible that it hadn’t knocked him out….

A strange, cold feeling started rising up in Steve as he thought of Tony… Entirely unharmed, immediately recovered enough to resume his medical duties…

He looked back at the cabinet. The blood .

He remembered the feeling of Tony’s fingers wrapped around his wrist… the power he’d felt, throbbing under Tony’s grip…

And then he looked up at Tony.

And now Tony was just… staring at him. His lips slightly parted. His eyes wide and shining…

“Tony…” Steve whispered.

He watched Tony glance at the cabinet. And then he saw Tony swallow, bravely .

“Bio-engineering kit, please” Tony said, stiffly, not meeting Steve’s eye.

Chapter Text

Tony had often wondered what it would be like to be an Avenger.

Only in a detached, hypothetical sort of a way – he used to be good at separating himself from all that. Time was, Tony knew how to muse about the lives of other people without trying to slot himself into them, or comparing them to his own, or thinking too deeply about it. But even back then, Tony would often find himself reading through a daily mission report and gently wondering …

What would it be like, to have to save the world when you were scared, or angry, or hurt?

How do you switch off all the human reactions enough to defuse a bomb, or attempt hand to hand combat, or stall a terrorist?

How do they really feel, while they’re out there being so calm and competent?

And then Tony was forced to undertake the most difficult, high stakes procedure of his life, while the thing that scared him most happened somewhere in the background…

And he still didn’t know how it felt.

He glanced down at Bucky, resting peacefully on a hospital cot. Steve had helped Tony to manoeuvre him onto a gurney and transfer him into the little recovery bay at the back of the medical lab. They’d never bothered with that before, but this time Bucky would be out for at least a few hours, and it just seemed wrong to leave him on the operating table that whole time… Tony remembered thinking that. He remembered asking Steve to help him, his voice stiff in his throat and his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle of Steve’s chest.

Tony remembered every detail of the four-hour surgery he’d just performed, and the prep, and the after care.

He knew every thought that had occurred to him, every idea he’d dismissed and why, every reason for every part of the procedure.

But he didn’t know how he’d been feeling, that entire time.

He didn’t really know what he was feeling now .

Even now that the ‘emergency’ had passed, and he didn’t have anything else to concentrate on, it still felt like his own reaction was happening at a distance.

A sadder form of numb…

Empty, maybe.

Tony did a final check of Bucky’s vital signs and ran through all the readouts one more time. Just making sure that this part of proceedings was dealt with, before he went back outside and…dealt with everything else.  

He thought of Steve, perched awkwardly on the edge of one of the work surfaces, his eyes pointedly lowered… like he had been all evening… There was a distinct twisting in Tony’s stomach at that, but he felt oddly separate to it. Like he was trapped inside someone else’s body.

“JARVIS, I want Bucky’s vitals monitored, and reported in real time,” he sighed. “And I want to be alerted if he begins to wake up, if he moves from unconscious into sleep, or if any there are any major changes”

“Of course, sir.” JARVIS soothed, like he understood the sensitivity of the situation.

Tony took one last look at Bucky, trying to think if there was anything he’d forgotten… and it occurred to him that he’d miss Bucky, too. He liked Bucky, he’d enjoyed Bucky’s company – he’d come to think of Bucky as a friend.

Maybe that would have been better .

Maybe if he’d just made a friend of both of them, it would’ve been worth doing all this in the long run. It would’ve been sad that it had to end, and it might’ve made him sad sometimes, to think of it… But Tony could imagine there being a certain bitter-sweetness to that. That he’d have smiled at those memories. That he would be better for having done this, even if nothing was really fixed.

Instead of which… He’d fallen in love.

Tony didn’t even know if he already knew that. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever thought that word before… He couldn’t remember freaking out over it, so probably not.

He should be freaking out about it – he knew that.

He should be telling himself that it was ridiculous, pathetic , to think he was in love with the first nice guy he’d met.

He should be reminding himself that he barely knew Steve, that he had no clue about human beings, that he really didn’t know the first thing about love.

He should have refused to think that word in the first place. He would have blocked it out on instinct, maybe as recently as yesterday.

Now, he just acknowledged it, along with all the other unfortunate facts of this catastrophe in progress.

He had fallen in love with Steve. And that was, objectively speaking, a disaster.

He did care what Steve thought about him, in a way he’d never expected.

It would hurt to lose him, in a far deeper way than Tony thought he could be hurt, back when all this started.

And Steve had just discovered the horrible truth about him, in about the most sinister way possible. He was already out there, in the next room, with that gruesome mental image – that had already happened.

And it had happened in the most foolish, preventable way – it was all Tony’s own fault. That was also a fact.

And now he had to walk out of that door, and watch the man he loved recoil in horror… and then leave Tony’s life forever. Or, seeing as it was Steve, maybe he really would manage to swallow his disgust and say something nice – before he left Tony’s life forever. Either way, this would all be over within an appointment or two. Even the best-case scenario would leave Tony with a pain that was different to and more than any of the pain he’d grown used to.

The fact was – this wasn’t better. Tony absolutely would be more miserable, and more lonely, and more lost, as a result of this arrangement. He would forever suffer agonies that hadn’t even occurred to him, when he was letting Rhodey rationalise this for him, all those weeks ago.

And still, Tony couldn’t bring himself to wish it hadn’t happened. He knew, if he had the chance to undo all of this, and spare himself all that pain… he wouldn’t take it. Which made no sense, but hey – he’d already accepted he didn’t understand love.

Tony noted all of this in the same disconnected, practical way he’d made mental notes during Bucky’s surgery. The worrying observations and the worst-case scenarios, all on the same functional list of things that had to be dealt with. Of course, he knew why he’d not stopped to feel anything while Bucky was on the operating table – there was an emergency in progress. No time.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t a sobbing wreck now …

Maybe, if you felt bad enough, it just looped around to the beginning again. Maybe when you go through the worst anxiety you’ve ever experienced, and things immediately get so much worse… Maybe there was just nowhere left for him to go but nowhere.

He dropped his shoulders, and dimmed the lights, and left the room.

Of course, Steve was standing exactly as Tony had pictured him. Worry written all over him as he made himself stand so stoically still, resting his weight on the counter behind him. Holding his wrist, Tony noted, without further analysis.

He felt that same detached sadness all over his skin when Steve glanced up to meet his eye. And then he straightened his back.

Might as well get this over with .

“So, the surgery was a complete success,” Tony began – because, of course, that was the proper order of things. “It didn’t turn out to be too different to what I thought. Essentially, the interface between the tech in his arm and his nervous system was faulty – probably has been, since HYDRA installed it. And that’s probably what’s behind all the little glitches he’s felt for years. Dr Stapes ‘patented wiring’ was just the first truly incompatible technology it ever tried to adapt to, and…yeah. But, thanks to that… incident, I was at least able to pinpoint exactly where the original fault was. So, that’s been removed. The upgraded system was basically already installed… but that’s finished with now…” Tony felt his voice disappearing, as Steve nodded along with what he was saying. Clearly trying so hard to listen – obviously waiting for something else entirely.

Tony loved everything about that face. He loved the honesty and bravery in that expression, the naked eagerness to get it right… The fact that it was so very Steve .

“So, he’ll most likely be unconscious for at least another hour, and after that he’ll probably just want to sleep – he might not even ‘wake up’ in between, per se…” Tony pushed himself on. “But I have JARVIS monitoring him, and I’ll get an alert when his condition changes. So really, now, it’s just a case of waiting for Bucky to wake up properly, and assessing the situation… But, yeah, I think we’re pretty much there…”

“Okay,” Steve breathed, still nodding. And then he added, very softly, “thank you.”

And Tony nodded back.

And then, for a long, dark second, there was silence.

“So, what do you want to know?” Tony asked, his voice entirely different now. Somewhere between resigned and defiant, like a teenager trying to sound mature when they asked what their punishment was going to be.

And, without missing a beat, Steve responded,

“Are you hurt?”

A sudden laugh burst out of Tony’s chest, with no warning what-so-ever. Or maybe it was a sob – he stifled it with his hand before he could find out.

“ Are you hurt,” he repeated, overwhelmed. “Well, of course that’s your first question…That’s just… Perfect…”

“But are you hurt?” Steve pressed, standing away from the counter to fix Tony with a serious look. Tony felt a pressure swelling up in his chest. It was hard to push his voice up through it.

“No, I’m not hurt, I promise,” he assured. And then, because he couldn’t bear the tension of waiting for Steve to ask, he finally forced the words out.

“I’m a vampire.”

…And Steve just carried on looking at him.

Like he was waiting for Tony to finish the sentence.

“So… Stuff like that won’t hurt me…” Tony carried on, simply because he felt like Steve was expecting him to. “It’s…uh, it’s actually quite a complex… condition , or whatever… But, in lay terms – my body is already dead, basically.” And he left a pause, so that Steve could shudder, or flinch, or…

But, still no. He just nodded, go on .

“Or, I don’t know – it can’t keep itself alive, might be a better way to explain it… It would just die, if I didn’t…drink blood,” Tony winced, and was forced to drop his eyes.

God, this was all so ugly.

“But, on the plus side of things, my body can use that blood very efficiently, and it uses it for everything. My lungs don’t do anything, unless I need them to speak, or whatever. I can use my lungs, I just don’t have to. Like my heart doesn’t bother, unless my body needs to heal a wound, or…” And, a beat too late, Tony realised he couldn’t think of a second example that wasn’t ‘get an erection’. So, he shook his head and skipped ahead to the next sentence. “But it doesn’t take much energy or nutritional value to…you know, barely animate a corpse – so, the rest gets left over so that I can be stronger, and faster, and heal more quickly. So. Y’know. There’s that…”

And he made himself look up at Steve again, a feeling of surrender coming over him when he found that same open expression looking back at him…

“So, that’s why I have a cabinet full of blood. That’s why a punch from Bucky won’t kill me, and why I ended up grabbing you far too hard yesterday, and… well, that’s why everything, really…” he finally trailed off into silence. I don’t know what else you want from me .

And then Steve let go of a little breath.

And nodded.

And…almost smiled?

He looked…

Relieved?

Does not compute-

“Sorry, I just… Honestly? I thought maybe there was something wrong with you – or, no, sorry, that came out wrong,” and Steve screwed his face up, and shook his head, and rushed to clarify, “I thought maybe you were going to say you were sick, or… dying. Which is probably a weird thing to jump to, I just – I know SHIELD used to use blood therapy, for some things. And I know some of those people were stronger in the short term, even though they were… still really sick. And, I don’t know, once I had that idea…” he dropped his eyes, shyly, a blush running up his neck. “I was just worried you were going to say something else, I guess.”

And suddenly Tony had all the feelings.

He felt like he’d just been hit by an invisible wall of water, like he had been literally thrown from his feet and he was already floating, or thrashing, or…drowning, or something-

He felt so much love in that moment it was painful, and frightening -

He felt so immediately, searingly vulnerable. Like he’d been slashed open, like he was standing there naked and bleeding and dying-

He was stunned . So overwhelmingly shocked that even his brain was rendered speechless, his own thoughts coming to him in dazed fragments-

And God, the relief . The dizzying, all-encompassing feeling of lightness, like he’d suddenly dropped an overbearing weight – so much more than the burdens he’d picked up since he met Steve-

Panic. A confused, desperate panic – that everything was falling apart, that he didn’t know how to grab a hold of this wonderful thing, that he might break down into tears at any moment-

He felt lightheaded.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe-

I’m a vampire.

Oh, thank God – I thought there was something wrong with you.

That was just-

That was-

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes. “That was a stupid thing to say. And pretty random. I don’t know why I-”

“Woah, hang on Steve, just… hang on,” Tony cut him off, holding one palm up to halt him – the other hand clutching at his chest. Steve’s eyes widened in alarm, and he took a step forward.

“Tony, are you-”

“Hang on, sorry,” Tony gasped, taking a little step back.

No more words for a minute, Steve.

No more kindness.

Too much.

Just give me a minute.

And he didn’t manage to say any of that out loud, and he could tell that Steve was still completely baffled by this reaction – but he seemed to register that Tony needed space.

Steve sort of settled on the spot, so obviously fighting a more fundamental instinct to move. Like a Labrador puppy learning the stay command.

Which did absolutely nothing to quell the onslaught of emotions that Tony was trying to sort out.

“Sorry, I, uh… I planned for maybe a thousand different reactions to that…” he heard himself mutter. “And, that…that wasn’t any of them…”

And he watched Steve frown, confused, why, what were you expecting?

And then the flicker of panic behind his eyes, I’ve said the wrong thing; I’ve put my foot in it.

And then a pained sort of sympathy, I’ve upset him.

And then he glanced at the floor, and swallowed, and gathered himself, and looked up at Tony again – ready to give it another go.

“I’m sorry. I, uh, I get that a lot, actually…” Steve said, oh so carefully.

There was a sharp clenching in Tony’s chest, and the immediate awareness that he should correct him. He wanted to tell Steve that he hadn’t got it wrong – that he really hadn’t got it wrong – but he couldn’t remember how to speak. He couldn’t remember how his mouth worked, how you organised sounds into words, how to translate incoherent thoughts into actual sentences.

“The honest answer is, I probably don’t really know what you mean…” Steve went on, “I mean, everything you just said made sense, but, if there’s more to it than that… If there’s some common public perception of Vampires these days, or if there’s some… other part of it that everyone knows about, or…I don’t know… some reasons it’s different to everything else that’s different in the future, then that passed me by.”

“No, not really…” Tony managed, barely a whisper. “Still just the same soulless-monster-stalking-virgins-in-the-dark perception it’s always been…”

And Steve smiled, and answered, warm and soft and… safe,

“I know you have a soul, Tony.”

And Tony literally felt his legs weaken. That , especially, hit him right in the gut. Whatever else he might’ve had to say evaporated completely; whatever little focus he was capable of was needed to keep him upright, for the time being.

“You thought I’d be afraid you were going to kill me?” Steve questioned, an eyebrow raised, that’s not it, surely?

“Or…I don’t know…” Tony struggled to remember what he had been afraid of – any of the things he’d thought, just a few minutes ago. “That ‘I am technically a corpse’ might be… unnerving…” And Steve blushed, and bit back a smile, and dropped his eyes before he answered,

“I…have no idea if this is going to come out really insensitive, so I’m sorry… But that still just sounds like one of those ‘weird medical facts’ you share in the playground when you’re a kid. You know, like how your body is more bacteria than actual human cells, or that you can’t sneeze with your eyes open… If you’d told eight-year-old me that everyone is technically a corpse, and it's just your own blood reanimating you, I’d have immediately believed you and run off to tell Bucky. We didn’t have the internet then, so…” he shrugged, amiably. And then a thought occurred to him, his eyes narrowing in interest as he added, “I think that might be technically true, actually. If you think about it.”

And Tony really thought he was going to laugh. It felt like a laugh, when it was breaking out of his chest – it might even have started out as that. But it ended up a choked off sob, followed by a sudden strangled gasp as Tony made a late attempt to contain it.

“Oh, God, Tony, I’m sorry,” Steve breathed, nakedly anguished, already walking over to him. “I didn’t mean-” And then he stopped sharply, his arms already open, maybe a foot away from Tony – like he’d just remembered he wasn’t allowed to.

And Tony just stepped forward and threw himself against Steve’s chest.

He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t even known he was going to do it. But he didn’t have time to panic about it, because then Steve’s arms were wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

And, right then – on top of everything else – it hit him that this was the first time he’d held anyone, in twenty years. Tony suddenly realised just how physically lonely he was, how deeply and painfully he missed simple contact like this, how much he really wanted to feel the warmth and weight of someone else, sometimes.

Tony might even have moaned softly as he let his head fall against Steve’s shoulder – and he didn’t care. He didn’t know enough about what was going on, who he was, how the world worked, any of it , to be able to care. It was all he could do to keep on top of the things he was feeling, one second to the next.

And right this second, it was just the solid comfort of Steve pressed against him, and that heady feeling of total safety, and the strength of Steve’s arms…

“I’m sorry if I upset you, I’m-”

“You didn’t,” Tony cut him off, talking into his shirt. “You didn’t say anything wrong, I promise…”

Tony felt Steve sigh, the heat of his breath ghosting over Tony’s neck and carrying on as a little shiver, all the way down his back. And for maybe a minute Steve just held him, and Tony just let himself be held, and that was all there was in the world…

“So, Bucky’s okay, and he’s just resting now,” Steve said eventually, whispering into Tony hair, his arms still wrapped tight around him. “And JARVIS will say, if anything happens…”

“Mm-hm” Tony answered, lifting his head to find those beautiful, icy-blue eyes, right there.

“So, do you maybe want to go back downstairs, and sit down and talk?” Steve suggested, nervous and hopeful. “Properly, I mean?”

And Tony could only nod.

*

By the time they stepped out of the elevator, Steve’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his teeth.

If he was forced to name the pandemonium of emotions currently erupting in his chest, he’d have said ‘scared to death’. Anything else he might’ve been feeling, everything he would’ve liked to think about, was overwhelmed by his immediate and all-consuming terror of getting it wrong .

Because he could tell this was a serious issue. There was obviously something significant or traumatic or socially stigmatising about ‘being a vampire’, at least for Tony. There was clearly something more that Steve should know, some reaction that Tony had been expecting-

But, for the life of him, Steve couldn’t work out what it was.

He really had gotten carried away with the idea that Tony was dying, right before he’d learned the truth. A thousand other ideas had flashed through Steve’s head before he settled on that one – maybe he’s a vampire might even have been one of them – but none of those ideas had worried him. It was wondering if Tony was sick that had made his blood run cold and, as people always do, Steve had then started twisting all the evidence to fit the worst possible theory.

He’d glanced around the med lab and wondered why Tony had all this high-tech medical equipment, if he’d never intended to treat anyone here.

He’d started to wonder if the whole house was more like a private hospital, if Tony was one of those people that needed constant treatment – if he was actually just too sick to leave.

He’d remembered all those wild rumours about the mysterious disappearance of Tony Stark, how many people had ‘heard’ that Tony had some rare condition or devastating injury.

And it was all because Steve had remembered the ‘plasma therapies’ he’d read about in the SHIELD archives. Experimental treatments, used to stave off terminal illness for a short time, or limit the symptoms of debilitating conditions. Those patients had sometimes shown remarkable strength, speed or endurance, in the hours after treatment was administered – obviously, SHIELD had taken a particular interest in that side effect, and made copious notes.

And then SHIELD had closed the programme, because ultimately, it didn’t work. Any enhancements were purely short term – any medical benefits were minimal. Those patients all ended up as sick as they’d started, eventually… or else, they’d died.

Steve had tried to tell himself he was overreacting, that he’d flat out made it all up… But it was just such a horrible idea. The thought of Tony being ill, or in pain, or… dying . The thought of him living all alone with it, for all this time. The thought of Tony being too sick or too weak to ever leave this house…

So, when Tony told him it was actually just that he was a vampire, Steve’s only reaction was relief. And, when that was apparently wrong, he’d found himself wondering… What’s the big deal?

And clearly that was wrong.

Obviously, it was a big deal. Apparently, Steve was supposed to know why this was a big deal – and, God, Steve hated this feeling anyway.

That sudden humiliated panic that would overwhelm him whenever someone looked at him with that incredulous expression, and Steve had no idea what he was even apologising for. Whether it was an obvious pop culture reference he’d missed, or a terrible tragedy that he’d accidently made light of, or an outdated theory he still believed, or a now offensive turn of phrase…

Jesus, that first week out of the ice-

No, Rap, not wrap – you know, the music, Rap?

Did you just make a joke about a plane hitting New York?

You don’t know what AIDs is?

And it’s not ‘Miss’, it’s Agent Lawson.

Did you seriously just ask ‘what’s the big deal about being a vampire?’

But he really couldn’t work it out.

Fury had seemed pretty casual when he’d introduced Steve to a Norse God and an Incredible Hulk. No one seemed to expect an extreme reaction to either of those revelations – actually, people in the 21 st Century seemed especially laid back about extraordinary people, as far as Steve could tell.

Was there an obvious reason that vampires were different? Something he was just being too insensitive or clueless to see?

Had he just read society wrong this whole time?

Or , was he missing some crucial piece of information? Was Tony about to give him that look, shocked that Steve hadn’t heard about the Vampire Elimination Law, the Great Vampire Tragedy of ’93, or something Steve just wasn’t going to be able to guess?

Should he just ask? Or would that force Tony to explain something painful and personal – something that should be obvious?

Should he try to work it out? No, that was patronising, and disrespectful – and bound to end in disaster.

Should he just be honest, and explain that he didn’t get it? That he really didn’t have a problem with it, that he couldn’t even work out what the problem was supposed to be?

He felt like he’d just tried that, and then Tony cried-

Oh, Jesus, Steve really had to get this right.

He could feel how important this was to Tony. How much Tony was suffering, how much he needed something from Steve right now.

And Steve wanted so desperately to help him.

He’d never felt such an urgent need to protect someone, he’d never hurt as much as he was currently hurting for Tony-

He felt like he was watching someone he loved bleed out on the other side of a minefield. Knowing he had to get to him. Knowing there was simply no way to do it safely.

All he could do now was go for it – and pray he didn’t put a foot wrong and blow the whole thing up.

Tony fell heavily into the couch, immediately drawing his legs up and curling into himself. He looked so tired, and… smaller, somehow. Steve had the sudden urge to reach out to him again, to just pull Tony onto his lap and hold him there-

But he stopped himself.

He told himself that he had to think about what he was doing now, that he had to be very careful.

So, instead, Steve sat down at the other end of the couch, and resolved to wait until Tony looked up again before he said anything. Give Tony a chance to speak first, if he wanted to. Give Tony a few minutes to centre himself, before they started this thing. Give himself a moment to get everything in order, before he went charging in.

“Sorry,” Tony whispered, his eyes fixed somewhere in the space between them.

“You really don’t have to be sorry, Tony,” Steve answered, sincerely. And Tony smiled, sadly… but didn’t say anything else. So, Steve took a steadying little breath.

Start with questions.

Don’t make assumptions.

Let him decide where he wants to go with it.

“So… If you don’t want to answer any of this, or if you just don’t want to talk about it, you can say…” Steve began, slowly and somewhat awkwardly. But then, at last, Tony looked at him, and gave him the tiniest little nod, no, it’s okay.

Okay. That was one step in.

“So, are vampires a thing people have heard of, then?” He asked, a little self-consciously.

“Uh, no, not really,” Tony muttered, dropping his gaze again. “There aren’t many, and, apparently , the ones that do exist tend to think of themselves as a… I don’t know, superior species, or something? So, you know, there’s a lot of ‘we do not share our secrets’, ‘we do not let outsiders in’. Which probably sounds pretty rich, coming from me – but I’m really not trying to protect an ancient tradition here,” he scoffed at that, like there was something bitterly funny about it. “But, no, aside from the few there are, and the few people they may have secretly told, no one knows. That vampires are real, I mean.”

“So…What reaction were you expecting me to have?”

“I don’t know – brandish a cross and throw holy water at me?” Tony shrugged, obviously doing his best to make light of it. So, Steve tried to match the tone.

“I know we’ve come a long way since the forties, but we weren’t that primitive,” he answered dryly – and Tony laughed. Actually laughed.

Okay, that’s another step forward.

“Doesn’t work anyway,” Tony muttered, still smiling. “Also, I can’t turn into a bat – which I’m still a little bit bitter about, actually. And I can’t fly – which I’m still a lot bitter about.” And then Steve laughed.

“Do you have a reflection?” He asked, suddenly realising that Tony had no mirrors anywhere in the house.

“I do have a reflection, yes,” Tony grinned.

“Do you cast a shadow?”

“Yes.”

“Can you go into people’s houses without them inviting you?”

“Not legally,” Tony deadpanned, and Steve laughed again.

“Do you sparkle?”

And Tony caught his eye more deliberately then, the amused grin melting into a more thoughtful smile when he answered,

“You tell me.”

Steve was caught out by that. A completely different part of his head reacted, a part of him that he’d tried to put on hold while there was something more important to talk about. It was a different sort of smile that washed through him then, a different voice that answered,

“So, that’s a vampire thing, huh?”

And Tony blinked, and glanced down, shyly. Steve could swear he could tell Tony was blushing, even though he wasn’t.

Well, that felt like another step… although Steve wasn’t entirely sure in which direction…

A whole other range of options occurred Steve then. Other questions about what Tony might be feeling, other outcomes to consider… other things he might like to say…

And then he remembered the way Tony had looked at him when he first walked out of Bucky’s room, and he kicked himself.

What the fuck are you thinking?

This is not the time to flirt with him.

“So, is any of that vampire stuff true?” He asked, back to his careful voice.

“Well, the blood drinking, obviously…” Tony sighed, the smile fading. “And I can’t go out during the day. Actually, it probably wouldn’t kill me, unless I got stuck somewhere really bad for a long time… But it’d hurt, a lot . And sun burns take a long time to heal. And they can leave permanent damage, which not many things can… So. No more sunbathing. And, uh, theoretically , I could use the blood to stay alive forever. I mean – to be honest, I doubt that’s actually true. Even if I managed to avoid being starved or sun scalded, I’m still pretty sure that this body would wear out after a couple of thousand years or so…” and he had to pause there, and swallow something down, before he forced himself on. “But all the vampires I did manage to find any details about were all hundreds of years old. So, I’m going to claim ‘immortal’, too.”

Steve briefly considered pointing out that some of his best friends could claim ‘immortal’, under that definition. But that sounded too much like he was saying it wasn’t a big deal, which he knew wouldn’t help.

“So, were you always a vampire?” He asked instead-

And Tony flinched.

“No,” he bit out, closing his eyes. “No. Since I was 21.”

Dangerous ground.

He doesn’t want to talk about this.

Step away – very carefully.

But, before Steve could think of how to change the subject, Tony carried on talking.

“We had a… ‘family friend’. Obadiah Stane,” he said it as though it had a bad taste. “He worked for my dad. I didn’t even know he was a vampire… until…Well, until I found out…”

Steve could tell that every word was painful. He wanted to tell Tony that he didn’t owe any explanations, that he didn’t have to talk about this…

But then he thought… maybe the reason Tony was forcing himself through this was that he did have to do it…

“He was… It was… Not long after my parents died…” Tony spoke as though he was being strangled, leaving longer and longer gaps as he struggled on. “And…I was living with him… Well, technically, he was living with me… It was my house…” And that final pause trailed into silence, as Tony dropped his shoulders, and shook his head.

Okay…

He does want to talk about this, but it’s really difficult…

So, how can I make it easier?

And Steve still didn’t understand anything about being a vampire, really. He still didn’t know what the big deal was – so, he couldn’t factor that into his strategy at all.

…But he did know Tony.

And he knew, if there was any question Tony was going to feel comfortable with, it was,

“How does it work?”

Tony looked up at him… and almost smiled. His eyes softened, and Steve couldn’t help thinking he looked grateful , which broke his heart-

But it’s the right question.

Safer ground.

Keep going.

“Becoming a vampire, you mean?” Tony clarified, just a little more fluidly.

“Yeah. I mean… Scientifically, or… practically, or whatever”

“Well, scientifically, I still don’t really know,” Tony admitted. “There’s not exactly a lot of research out there, and all the stuff you can read is all … legends and mystics and ancient rites, and other not very useful stuff. Everything Obie told me was bullshit – and decidedly not scientific. I mean, I did try looking into it, a long time ago… But it’s just not a useful study, only one test subject, with no hypothesis,” he shrugged. “But, practically speaking… The vampire has to kill the person first. They have to bite a person, and drain all of their blood – and, a lot of the time, that person just dies. But, if the vampire times it right, and offers the dying person their blood, right before they actually die, sometimes they drink. And, because it’s vampire blood, their body can use it to save themselves, to keep themselves alive… But then they’re changed forever…”

And then Steve saw the little flicker of anger behind all that sadness – and, at last, it dawned on him.

Or, no, the opposite of that. A thought had suddenly – finally – occurred to Steve, and sucked all the warmth and light out of the world. It rose up in Steve’s chest like icy water, as he realised-

Tony didn’t ask for this.

Someone else decided this for him.

That’s what the big fucking deal is.

“I mean, there are apparently things they can do to up their chances of not killing the person… which I don’t want to think about, but I can’t… make go away…” Tony carried on, his throat tightening again. “I found a book once. And I wish I hadn’t, but I can’t unsee it now, so… But it was apparently written by a vampire, like, five hundred years ago, about this secret circle of vampires in Italy… made it sound like they had their own little society, there… And it made it sound like people asked to be vampires…” Tony paused for a second to wince.

Steve clenched his jaw, and took a long, slow breath as subtly as he could. The true scale of the betrayal Tony was describing just kept unfolding in his head. The injustice of it. The cruelty of it…

“But, yeah, apparently , these poor deluded kids in 16 th Century Florence would ask vampires to turn them… And then it was considered good practice to let them drink vampire blood for a few weeks first, to help their chances…” Tony outright shuddered at that, swallowing heavily before he added, “And I have thought about every single meal I ate in the weeks before it happened, and I really don’t think he could… possibly have… But, yeah, I don’t like to think about it.”

And then Tony glanced up at him, and his eyes flashed wide with alarm.

“I’m sorry,” he corrected sharply. “That was horrible, I don’t know why I said-”

“No, Tony, it’s not that,” Steve cut in, when he realised that his disgust and anger must’ve been clear on his face – that he wanted Tony to know who it was really for. “I’m sorry, I just hadn’t thought that… obviously you didn’t ask for this-”

“No one would ask for this,” Tony asserted, bitterly. “I don’t believe any of those people in Florence asked for this. Whatever a vampire says they wanted .”

“That’s not it,” Steve told him, not even nervous about it anymore. “Honestly, if this is being a vampire, then I can actually believe someone would ask for it. I can absolutely believe people would want to be like you. It’s not what you are that upsets me – it’s that someone decided that for you. And if I look furious or disgusted, then I am. But not at you.”

And Tony just looked at him, dazed, or confused, or shocked…

Unknown ground.

You’re just going to have to make a run for it.

“Look, Tony… I chose to make myself into a living science experiment. I’ll tell you the truth, sometimes the thought of it scares me even now. It terrified me then, thinking of all the ways it could go wrong, what I might turn into. I still think about how different my body is now, that it doesn’t work like a normal body, that I have no idea if I age or what side effects might randomly appear when I’m sixty. I still think about the fact that I was technically dead for seventy years – an actual corpse, not even a reanimated one. I still wonder where my mind was all that time… where I came back from… But I chose all that. I chose to take that serum. I chose to crash that plane. And even if I didn’t directly choose to come to the 21 st Century – no one chose that for me. But if I think of someone secretly dosing me with the serum, or someone else deciding that I’d be happier in the future and just putting me to sleep one day…”

And Steve had to stop then to swallow a sudden taste of bile, he was so enraged.

And Tony just carried on looking at him, his eyes shining now.

“And… He was a friend?” Steve asked, dreading the answer.

“Like family,” Tony whispered, sadly. “Knew him my whole life. My dad left him in charge of the business, if anything happened to him before I turned 21… Because he would look after it for me. He was my ‘legal guardian’…”

Steve was just going to wait until his heart was done breaking, before he said something… But then, out of nowhere, Tony seemed to find his voice.

He just carried on talking,

“He came up to my bedroom one night, said he wanted to talk to me. And this was right around the time he was supposed to be transferring the company over to me, and not that long after my parents – and I wasn’t dealing with it very well, I’ll be honest. Drinking too much, coming in too late, saying stupid things just to wind people up… So, by then, everyone had given me the ‘straighten up and fly right’ speech. I was just expecting him to do that… But he was actually really nice to me. He gave this whole speech about how he had faith in me, and how I had all this potential… How he knew the world was giving me a hard time, but that was because the world didn’t understand some things. He said, there’s more to this world than you see, there’s a better world out there, for special people like you… And then he murdered me.”

Steve felt his breath catch, a treacherous heat flushing his face. Oh, God, Tony…

“And then he… made me drink…” Tony screwed his eyes shut, and flinched away from that thought, no, still not talking about that part. “And then I think I passed out, or… died… And I remember waking up on the floor of my bedroom, and crawling to my bathroom, and locking the door. Thinking that I was bleeding to death, and that Obie had just gone mad, and that I had to think of a way to get out of the house before I died, before he found me and finished the job… And then I realised I wasn’t dying. And then Obie knocked on the door, really gently, and just starts telling me that he knows how scary it is, because it happened to him, but it’s all going to be okay… And I freaked out . I screamed, and cried, and I swore at him – for hours . And I hated him so much, and I was so sure that I was going to kick him out or run away from him or kill him for doing this, just as soon as I could. But…”

And then Tony seemed to melt further into himself, biting his bottom lip… Ashamed …

Steve leant forward to touch him, just to move closer to him – but Tony carried on talking before Steve could reach him.

“I was scared, really. I didn’t know what I was – I didn’t even know I was a vampire, yet. And I didn’t know how to find out, except for asking him. And, I was just so tired, and… This is going to sound… But he was still Obie, then. It was like, I knew he wasn’t… who I thought he was. But, all those years of thinking of him as, like, an uncle, and those last few months when he was the only person I could turn to… It just… hadn’t updated, yet, I guess. It still felt like…” he trailed off into a heavy sigh, I can’t explain it. “So, eventually, I let him in. I let him tell me all this stuff… How, I was part of this ancient, noble race now, how when I ‘came of age’ I’d start to feel a natural bloodlust, and I shouldn’t be scared of it. How eventually I’d have to bite people, but it was okay, because I’d naturally know how to do it safely – how he could teach me to be a vampire. And it all just made it sound like I was going to turn into a monster one day… and he said that people would always see it that way, but it wouldn’t really be that way, and one day I’d understand…”

Steve actually felt faint, for a second. He couldn’t believe there was anywhere else for this rage to go…

But this was the reason Tony never left his house, wasn’t it?

Not because he was a vampire – because this man had made him hate himself for it.

And he’d done it deliberately -

“I let him stay,” Tony said it like it was an admission. “For… weeks. I… listened to him. And then, one day he tells me about a loyalty between vampires . How, from now on, I’m a vampire first. That everything, even the business arrangements, had to include that… Turned out, there’s a vampire running a terrorist group out in Afghanistan. And Obie tried to convince me that all the US laws didn’t concern me anymore, and human wars weren’t important to us now, and ultimately I had to sell to this man if he asked me to – because we were the same now. And I snapped. Kicked him out of the house in the middle of the day. He stood on the doorstep screaming for about ten minutes before he finally had to run for cover. That would’ve left a scar.”

“Good,” Steve muttered, before he could stop himself. Tony breathed a joyless little laugh.

“I actually felt bad for it, at the time…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s okay, I don’t feel bad for it now,” Tony assured him, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And I don’t bite people, by the way. I do just drink donor blood – which is mostly animal blood. And it’s fine. And I have no idea how I would bite someone, so that whole ‘it’ll come naturally’ thing was bullshit…”

But you still think you have to tell me all this.

You still expect me to be scared of you.

You’re still scared of yourself.

“Where is he now?” Steve asked, his voice suddenly hard and sharp.

“Dead,” Tony sighed. “Not ‘cos of me, though. He went back to Afghanistan after that, I guess to try and negotiate directly, or something… Must’ve gone wrong, whatever it was, because the Ten Rings tied him up and left him to starve to death in the desert. Although, sunlight like that probably would’ve killed him first,” and then he seemed to catch the intent in Steve’s expression, and raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because if you’d said he was still out there somewhere I would’ve gone and found him,” Steve answered, dead serious.

And killed him for this .

Tony’s eyes widened, like he’d heard exactly what Steve was thinking… and was glad.

“Tony, listen to me,” Steve said, shuffling along the couch so that he was sitting right next to him. “I know you . And I like you, and I trust you, and I respect you a hell of a lot more than pretty much anyone I’ve ever met. And I don’t know shit about being a vampire, and it would never occur to me that I needed to – all I know is that the one vampire I’ve ever met is one of the kindest, smartest, most humane people there is. And that’s all I need to know. You don’t ever have to reassure me you’re not a monster. I would never think that, ever. And I am so sorry for what that man did to you, I don’t have words to tell you how hurt and angry I am on your behalf, and actually I wish I could kill him – but that doesn’t change what you are.”

Without even thinking about it, Steve reached over and took Tony’s hand.

And Tony jumped, rather than flinched…

And then he sort of froze…

“None of this is your fault, Tony,” Steve whispered. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to apologise for…”

And he felt Tony’s hand curl around his, and squeeze very gently…

And, oh, there was just so much. All the reasons Steve loved him, all the things Tony deserved, all ways this was so unfair. Steve knew he couldn’t possibly undo all these years of trauma, whatever he said… But he wanted so much for Tony to at least know how much he cared. That he would do whatever it took, however long it took, to help Tony with this. If he could only find the words for that , if he could just explain-

And then he felt Tony tug his arm, pulling Steve closer as he leaned into him-

And kissed him. 

Chapter Text

Steve parted his lips, the moment Tony kissed him.

Steve leant into him, one hand sliding over the back of Tony’s neck, the other still holding Tony’s hand, fingers interlaced.

Steve shifted his weight onto his knees, so that he could pull Tony against his chest-

Steve had nothing to do with any of this, by the way.

His brain had apparently short circuited, the second Tony touched him. There wasn’t a single thought in Steve’s head as Tony melted against him, the warmth of Tony’s mouth against his, the sting of Tony’s fingertips, digging into his back. It just felt right. It came completely naturally, in a way that Steve hadn’t felt since he’d been thrown into an alien future-

And he didn’t think anything of it.

He didn’t stop to ask himself what was going on… He knew this. He was this. This was so easy, and good, and right…

And right now.

It was just this moment, this immediate feeling, this wonderful, innate understanding.  

There was a giddying rush of freedom, something that felt so familiar and so foreign all at once – something he’d known so well, but such a long time ago… It had been years since Steve just was. For the first time in forever, there was no part of Steve trying to translate what was happening, no little voice second guessing whether he’d understood the situation, not even the slightest shred of worry about what would happen next-

He’d forgotten anything would happen next – there was only now.

He loved Tony-

He wanted him-

Steve wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and have him. He wanted to tell Tony again and again how amazing he was, he wanted Tony to believe that and feel that and know that-

Steve wanted to make this good for him…

Tony sighed, pleadingly – and Steve loved that sound. He loved Tony’s voice, and his smile, and the way he held himself. He loved Tony’s body, the way he fit so perfectly against him, he loved the way Tony moved.

Oh, Steve wanted to run his palms over that flawless skin.

He wanted to touch that soft, dark hair. He’d wanted to do that for so long-

So, he did.

He just let his hand run up along Tony’s neck and into his hair, cradling his head, kissing him deeper. He felt Tony drop his other hand, so that he could throw his arm around Steve’s neck, and immediately Steve moved to grab him by the hip, pulling Tony into him-

“Sir? I apologise for the interruption…”

Steve didn’t even know he’d heard it. It was just another meaningless background noise, behind that incessant pounding that he didn’t know was his own heartbeat-

And then Tony flinched away from him, and looked up, incredulous,

“Seriously JARVIS?” He snapped. “What?”

Steve broke into a grin. He was responding to everything on a very basic level, and he knew immediately that he liked that reaction very much-

He doesn’t want to stop

He wants this

And then a little flicker of perception. The vaguest memory of context…

Tony Stark just kissed me.

Tony’s arms are around my neck.

The distant awareness that it meant something, that this revelation was bigger than what was happening in the moment, that this was actually so much better than how it felt right now.

A decidedly not distant excitement-

“I apologise, sir. But you were quite clear that I should inform you of any changes to Sergeant Barnes’ condition” JARVIS reminded him, diplomatically. “Specifically, you asked to be informed when the general anaesthetic wore off.”

Steve saw a flash of stunned confusion in Tony’s eyes, and then a wave of realisation.

“Right, shit, sorry, yeah,” Tony muttered, loosening his grip and leaning away. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, sir. His vital signs are all within the ideal range, and he is recovering well.” JARVIS assured.

“Is he waking up?”

“No sir, I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” JARVIS soothed. “He’s barely stirred, and has now fallen into a deep sleep. If I were pushed to make an estimate, I would say he’ll be asleep for the remainder of the night.”

So, we don’t have to stop

Please don’t stop

Steve didn’t think it in words, exactly – but the instinct was unmistakable. He’d had the briefest pang of guilt, along with Tony, that he’d not been attentive enough when JARVIS first spoke up… But Bucky was fine. Steve had heard that much, and it was all he needed to hear-

Because he just didn’t want to stop.

This was everything Steve had missed so much, and wanted so much, and needed so much.

This intimacy and this immediacy-

This was the first time he’d felt truly alive since 1945.

After all this time overthinking it and trying not to think about it and worrying about it and pretending he wasn’t worried about it – and it had just happened.

And it was wonderful,

And it was Tony-

Steve felt his fingers curling into the fabric of Tony’s shirt, an unconscious desire to keep him, to stay in this moment.

“Right, thanks J…” Tony muttered… his voice slightly dazed now… his body stiffer…

Withdrawing.

Retreating.

“Let me know if there’s anything else,” Tony added, in almost the same cool, professional tone that had hurt Steve so much, earlier in the evening. “I won’t… yell at you next time. I promise.”

There was a cold, creeping feeling along Steve’s spine.

Oh… Maybe he should’ve second guessed this, a little bit…

Now his brain rebooted. Just a loading screen at first, a warning message: something huge is about to hit you. Please wait. Then an overload of information, as all the things he should have been thinking reappeared, all at once, in no particular order. Moving far too fast to read. Suddenly, he had the horrible feeling that he’d lost his head at the worst possible moment.

…Then he remembered that he was just telling himself how important this was, how he had to think very carefully, that this was all about Tony…

And it wasn’t that Steve could think of anything he’d done wrong… yet. It was the worrying realisation that he should’ve thought about that first. That he didn’t even know if he’d just done something insensitive or damaging, at the worst possible time-

He should stop and think about it now

…Oh, God, he’d lost himself completely. He didn’t know where to start-

He didn’t want to lose this moment-

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, dropping his arms. There was an instant, plunging disappointment in Steve,

He doesn’t want this

He doesn’t want me

Which he immediately felt guilty for-

Christ, this was a lot.

“Please don’t be sorry,” Steve responded, before he could stop himself.

“No, but I… I shouldn’t have… That was… really selfish, I’m sorry…” Tony muttered, looking down. “And you are…just… impossibly sweet, and… I’m just… sorry I forced that on you, when you’re just trying to be nice – you don’t have to go along with that, it’s okay, I know.”

And Steve felt like he’d been punched in the throat.

It took all the air out of his body, it physically hurt, when he realised…

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t want this. Tony didn’t think he wanted this.

That was worse.

That Tony didn’t believe Steve could want this. Tony thought Steve was…going along with this? What, out of… pity, or something?

Oh, Tony-

“You think you forced that on me?” Steve gasped, struggling to express how completely wrong that was.

Suddenly, all that mattered was explaining how wrong that was.

Which was focusing, at least. All those doubts and neuroses he was just about to fall into had faded completely. All Steve was thinking about now was how he could tell Tony that he wanted this. If it was even possible to put into words how much he wanted this. How absurd it was for Tony to say that, when Steve had spent weeks daydreaming about this exact moment. How baffling it was that Tony thought that, when Tony was… astounding, beautiful… brilliant-

Jesus, Steve knew he knew more words than this-

“Sorry, I just meant… That was probably an awkward…” Tony stuttered. “I mean, if you’re thinking that I’ve just massively misinterpreted and now you’re going to have to reject me at a vulnerable time or – I haven’t, I know, I didn’t mean to… I’m not going to feel rejected-”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, when he couldn’t bear it any longer.

And Tony’s eyes snapped up to meet his… Such beautiful eyes…

“If you want to know what I’m thinking, mainly I’m just thinking that I want to kiss you again,” Steve told him, firmly. “I have wanted to kiss you since the first moment I met you. I have thought about you – I have thought about this – every minute of every day since then…” He lost his footing a bit when he saw Tony’s mouth fall open, his eyes widening in a mix of amazement and confusion… he was so perfectly pretty then that Steve could’ve given in and just kissed him again.

But he so much wanted to tell him-

“The only reason I’m doing this, the only thing I’m thinking right now, is that I want you – and maybe I should be thinking more than that… And if I shouldn’t have – if that was exactly the wrong thing to do, right now, then I’m sorry-”

“Oh, God, Steve, no-” Tony broke in, aghast. “No, I didn’t mean… You didn’t…”

Steve leant into him again, putting his hands on Tony’s arms and looking right at him when he asked,

“Tony, do you want this?”

“Yes,” Tony answered immediately, like he’d been completely baffled by the question. “Of course, I do – I kissed you.”

And somewhere, Steve did know that this was a complicated situation. There was a little voice, way at the back of his head, still trying to bring various points to his attention,

You have your own issues with sex that you shouldn’t be putting on him

You have no idea what he’s going through right now, you shouldn’t complicate things

You haven’t even thought about the fallout of this – at all.

But the situation just didn’t feel complicated. In that moment, Steve felt completely confident he knew what was going on, it seemed perfectly obvious what he should do.

He knew that Tony wanted him. He could see that Tony was being completely honest; he could feel it.

And God he wanted Tony. In such a simple, primal way… His whole body was trying to lean towards him, his fingers flexing against Tony’s skin, however hard Steve tried to stay still.

And he wanted Tony to feel wanted. He wanted Tony to feel loved, and needed, and beautiful. Steve wanted to take all that pain and doubt away from him, just for a minute. He wanted to be the thing that made Tony feel good.

And maybe there was more to it than that – but in the moment, everything just seemed to fit.

“And then I kissed you back,” Steve reminded him, bringing one hand to the side of Tony’s face, gently tilting his head up-

And Tony leant up and kissed him again before he could even finish making his point.

Steve threw his arms around him immediately, one across his shoulders, one tight around his waist, pulling Tony hard against him. Tony relaxed into it, opening his mouth, one hand caressing up along Steve’s neck and into his hair. Steve gripped him tighter, rocking against him, a sharp heat shooting through his hips as Tony moved to meet him, his other hand grabbing roughly at Steve’s shoulder. Steve felt Tony moan softly against his lips, clawing the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt into a fist, kissing him increasingly desperately.

Steve felt a sudden, stabbing need, low in his groin. Not just the deep, throbbing ache of Tony grinding against him or the growing desire for more of him - although, there was that. But it was more than that.

Steve wanted to hear him moan again.

He wanted Tony to want him, he wanted to feel it.

He wanted to give Tony everything he wanted.

He wanted to make Tony come.

Steve lifted Tony into his chest, so that he could turn and lie him out on the couch behind him. Tony grabbed at him instantly, pulling Steve on top of him by the front of his shirt. And then, as soon as Steve kissed him again, Tony ran his hands up along his back, under his clothes, stroking the flats of his palms over Steve’s bare skin. Steve shivered, and immediately moved to shrug his t-shirt up over his shoulders, wanting to feel more of Tony pressed against him, not wanting anything in the way. Tony caught on quickly, snatching at the shirt and tugging it over Steve’s head. And then Tony’s hands were all over him, caressing desperately over Steve’s arms and shoulders and chest, his eyes wide and dark and his lips just slightly swollen…

“Jesus Tony,” Steve breathed, rushing to unbutton Tony’s shirt, running his fingers over every inch of newly exposed skin as he went. And then he dropped his head to kiss Tony’s chest, and the thrill of it actually caught him off guard; having so much of him, having it be this real. The softness of him and the taste of him, the way he arced up into it. The almost pleading little sigh…

Steve shifted his weight so that he was kneeling between Tony’s legs, so that he could lean over him and kiss him again, and again, his hands stroking along Tony’s sides as he trailed kisses from the centre of his chest up to his neck, and then up along his throat, and then behind his ear. Tony grabbed the back of his head, and whimpered so softly that Steve almost didn’t hear it, arching his whole body up against him.

“You are stunning Tony,” Steve whispered, his hands working their way back down over Tony’s chest, and his stomach, curling their way over his hips. “You are beyond perfect. You are so much more interesting and dazzling and extraordinary than just perfect-”

He felt Tony buck sharply in his hands, his grip tightening in Steve’s hair.

And then Steve caressed his palm roughly over Tony’s thigh, and then between his legs – over the outline of his cock, hard and thick against the fabric of his pants.

“Jesus fuck, Steve-” Tony barked, writhing up against his hand,

 “Oh God, I want you,” Steve breathed, tracing his fingers over the length of him, his own cock pulsing painfully when Tony moaned. Steve pressed a long, slow kiss against Tony’s throat, as he tugged the zipper at Tony’s fly, and slipped his hand into his pants to stroke him through his underwear-

Christ, he’s so wet-

“Please Steve,” Tony begged, his voice high and needy.

Steve began kissing his way back down along Tony’s chest, quicker and messier and more urgently than before. He heard Tony whine softly when he had to move his hand, so that he could tug Tony’s clothes down over his legs, undressing him as he was still kissing his stomach. And then Steve lifted his head…

“Jesus Tony…You are…just…” He struggled weakly, still trying to take it in. The sight of Tony lying there, open and exposed for him, the flawless expanse of his chest, his cock hard and leaking against his skin. Steve’s mouth literally watered. He couldn’t think of words enough- “Please, Tony, can I-”

“God yes, please yes,” Tony begged, parting his legs, arching his back. “Please.”

And, fuck, Steve wanted.

So, he dropped his head, and slid Tony’s cock into his mouth.

*

Truthfully, Tony didn’t even know what he was saying yes to.

He didn’t even stop to ask himself – what did it matter? The answer was yes. All the answers were yes. Tony just wanted Steve. Anything. Everything. This was the first time he’d even allowed himself to want, in twenty years, and it was like a dam had burst. Suddenly, Tony wanted so much it was dizzying. He felt every moment of loneliness, every frustrated desire, every buried trauma for the last two decades – how desperately he longed to let that go, how painfully he needed this.

And, yes, there was still that nagging little voice in there somewhere.

That snide little whisper that Obie had planted in his head… or, who knew, maybe it was there even before that. Cultivated and nurtured by so many betrayals, and so many years of shame and isolation…

You just threw yourself at the first person who tried to listen to you.

You still can’t keep him. Nothing has really changed.

Everything will still be broken in the morning.

But, for just a moment, Tony had stopped listening to it.

He didn’t care.

His whole body was still tingling with the memory of Steve’s kisses. His head was still full of Steve’s sweet, kind words. He was completely lost in this wonderful, beautiful moment, and so desperate to stay here-

Yes Steve, yes…

And then he felt the soft, wet heat of Steve’s mouth-

“OhGodSteveFuckFuckFuck” Tony gasped, as Steve took the length of him – right to the back of his throat. “Oh fuck, Oh God-”

Tony let his head fall back against the couch, his hips jerking involuntarily, his mind whiting out completely. A low, aching pleasure tightened deep inside him. A sharp heat pulsed in the tip of his cock as Steve drew back, slowly, the flat of his tongue pressed to Tony’s skin.

Oh fuck, I’m going to come-

Tony forced himself to take a long, slow breath… and found he had to stop himself from panting-

He was breathing.

He could feel his own heart beating hard against his ribs.

Every part of him working to keep up with this-

Alive

“Oh God, God Steve, please,” he babbled, mindlessly, his hand grasping at Steve’s shoulder entirely of its own accord. And then he felt Steve’s tongue flit over the head of his cock, like an electric shock. And then the slow drag of those beautiful lips as Steve took the length of him again, and then the tight heat of his throat. “Oh fuck, so good, please, oh please-”

Steve pressed his thumbs into the sensitive flesh just below Tony’s hipbones, the sudden jolt of it running along his spine. And then Steve’s hand’s stroking over the curve of Tony’s hips, over his thighs, matching the slow, firm movement of his mouth. Tony moaned, rocking up to meet him, letting that pleasure roll up his back, growing, building, aching-

God, he wanted to come-

He never wanted this to stop-

“Steve- fuck, Steve, oh please, I’m going to-” but his voice was swallowed by a strangled cry, as Steve took the tip of his cock in his mouth, and sucked-

Oh God, so good-

So close-

He grabbed roughly at the back of Steve’s head, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, every muscle in his body tensed in a desperate need for release.

“Oh-please-Steve-please-”

And then at last there was that wave of pleasure that just carried on breaking, crashing through him, taking everything with it.

“Jesus fuck Steve, oh my God…” Tony panted, the aftershocks still shuddering through him. He could feel Steve’s mouth, still moving against him, swallowing – and Jesus, the thought of that-

Oh God, he was breathless. Genuinely breathless.

And then, finally, he’d let go of everything.

All resistance, all pressure, all pain. All that frustration and longing and disappointment… just gone.

And in its place, there was only this warm, heavy feeling of total comfort, washing through him like water. Tony’s body collapsed from under him, falling as a dead weight into the couch. And for an endless moment, he just felt as though he was floating, suspended in this thick, heady sensation.  Everything felt good. Every inch of him throbbed with pleasure, every shapeless thought that drifted through his head was happy.

And then he looked up.

And Steve was just… movingly beautiful. Like a living, breathing piece of art. Tony let his eyes drift up over that glorious chest, over the smooth planes of flawless skin, the imposing physical strength of him… He looked up at Steve’s beautiful lips, flushed an even darker shade of pink, fuller and softer than Tony had ever seen them. And then at last he met Steve’s eye, and it was like he’d just stepped off of a cliff. Tony just fell into the intensity of that gaze, losing himself completely in the look of honest wonder on Steve’s face.

Oh, he wanted to stay lost here.

He couldn’t go back yet.

It was like the first bite of food when you’re starving, or finally sitting down when you’re exhausted, or coming into the warm after so long out in the bitter, endless cold… He just couldn’t stop now. The thought of going back to that sad and lonely reality was suddenly overwhelming, terrifying, so much worse than actually living it had been. And he knew that had to, eventually he had to-

But, Jesus, not yet.

He couldn’t, yet.

“Steve,” he whispered, his hand subconsciously reaching up to him, even though his body was still too heavy to move. And then he saw Steve’s eyes flash with such naked, vulnerable hunger, and there was an almost painful twinge as Tony’s cock made a valiant attempt to respond – far too soon.

He wants me.

He really wants me.

And, God, Tony wanted him.

He wanted more of him – more of this.

He wanted just a little bit more time in this wonderful parallel world he’d fallen into.

“Jesus Tony, you have no idea how hot you are right now,” Steve breathed, running his eyes over Tony’s body, his chest still rising and falling, hard and fast. And Tony felt a sudden thrill of excitement, a rush of gratification, even smugness-

Tony believed him.

He could hear the need and desperation in Steve’s voice, he could see the way Steve’s whole body responded to him. He knew Steve wanted him. He felt it.

“Oh God Steve, that was incredible, you are incredible…” Tony babbled, barely aware he was doing it – using most of his focus to try and push himself up, even though his arms were still trembling. And then Steve dropped down to kiss him again, hard and deep and possessive, gripping Tony by the waist. Tony felt another low ache, another jagged spike of desire even as his body struggled to recover.

He still wanted Steve, he wanted all of him, he wanted-

“Fuck me Steve, please,” he whispered, hot against Steve’s lips. And he hadn’t even known he was going to say it, but now that it was out there-

Jesus Christ, Tony wanted that.

And he only wanted it more when he heard Steve groan softly, his fingertips digging harder into Tony’s skin.

“Oh God Tony are you sure?” He panted, barely leaving gaps between the words – please Tony, say you’re sure.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Tony promised, “I am very, very, very sure-” was cut off when Steve kissed him again, his hands already caressing roughly over Tony’s ribs.

Tony immediately went to unfasten Steve’s jeans, his movement blunt and clumsy. Then he curled his fingers over Steve’s waistband, jerking his pants and underwear down over his hips in one rough tug. Steve had to break the kiss so that he could shuffle his way free of his clothes, Tony grabbing at him the whole time. And then Tony let his hand stroke over Steve’s stomach, revelling in how smooth and warm and perfect his skin was… and then curled his fingers around the length of Steve’s cock, and felt him, thick and full against his palm.

“Jesus Steve,” Tony gasped, as Steve jerked into his grip. Tony felt that painful throbbing ease into something more comfortable, and then compulsive, as he ran his hand over Steve. Feeling the weight of him, the size of him-

“Tony are you sure you want this?” Steve pleaded.

“Yes, I want you, I want you inside me, please,” Tony assured him, already picturing it, his own cock hard against his stomach again.

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve growled, rocking his hips.

And it’s funny how the human mind works. What seemingly minor details it chooses to set aside. The way it can find them again when they actually matter.

Out of nowhere, Tony found himself glancing over at the little mobile work desk, currently set up just within arms reach of the couch – knowing exactly what he was looking for. Exactly where he’d find it.

He didn’t know where he’d find anything else in the workshop. The rest of the room was in a state of total chaos. His appointments with Bucky were always either Med Lab appointments or workshop appointments, and Tony had never bothered to tidy one if they were going to be spending all evening in the other. He’d had no reason to think anyone would be coming down here tonight, he’d made no effort to tidy away any of the debris from his latest project – he couldn’t even remember what his latest project was, right now.

But he absolutely knew, on that desk, in amongst all the meaningless clutter, there was a tube of silicone oil-

It was meant to be used as an engineering lubricant, specifically designed for organic projects – but, fuck it, it could be two things.

“Here,” he gasped, as he lunged entirely gracelessly for the desk. Snatching the little tube up and pressing it firmly into Steve’s palm. Steve understood immediately, setting it aside deliberately. And then his grabbed at Tony’s shoulder, and his hip, and rolled Tony onto his stomach in one swift motion.

“Oh fuck-” Tony barked, cut short when he felt the friction of the couch pressed hard against his still-sensitive cock. And then he felt Steve’s hands pushed against the inside of his thighs, parting Tony’s legs, and Tony raced to surrender to it. He spread his legs, lifting his ass, already begging, “Jesus Steve I want you to fuck me, please fuck me, please-”

And he didn’t feel guilty or dirty or ashamed – just like he knew he wouldn’t, if Steve were ever really there.

He liked to think of Steve looking at him now, wanting him now-

And then Steve ran his thumb over Tony’s hole, firm and determined and just a little bit rough, and sent burning pleasure shattering through the very core of him.

“Oh, fuck Steve, yes,” Tony moaned, letting his head fall forward as he tried to push back against Steve’s hand.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve whispered, letting his thumb roll over Tony’s rim, his other hand gripping Tony’ s hip hard enough to bruise. “So fucking beautiful. Breath-taking. Perfect.”

“Steve!” Tony barked, like it was a swearword, or a prayer. And then there was the tight, searing heat of Steve’s finger, pushing inside him. “Oh, God-”

“It’s okay baby,” Steve whispered, taking his hand away. Tony cried out, bucking against nothing, but Steve just carried on soothing, “It’s okay, it’s okay baby.”

And, oh, Tony loved it when Steve called him that-

And then Steve’s fingertip, wet and slippery now, pressing against his hole again-

Pushing inside him.

“Oh, fuck more, please more,” Tony begged, even as that deep friction curled in him. Steve pulled back and pushed into him again, a sharp desperate pleasure that immediately consumed itself, twisting into an urgent need for more. “Please-”

Tony groaned, low in his chest, as Steve pushed a second finger into him - which then broke into a pleading whine, as Steve twisted his hand and pushed in deeper.

“Jesus Tony, you feel so good,” Steve muttered, like he was talking to himself. “Fuck, the sounds you make, the way you move-”

And then Steve fingertips brushed over that sweet spot, deep inside him. Tony felt his whole body contract around Steve’s hand, every sensation being dragged down to that one point.

“Oh-more-please-Steve-fuck-there-please” Tony blurted out, writhing against him, clawing at the couch. And then Steve pushed a third finger into him, working him open, deliberately seeking out that same spot again. “Fuck me, please fuck me, please-”

“Oh God, Tony,” Steve breathed, pulling his hand away from him – grabbing hold of Tony and throwing him onto his back again, before Tony could whine about the loss of contact.

And immediately Tony recognised the feeling of Steve positioning himself between his legs, the way Steve pushed at Tony’s thighs. Tony arched his back, letting his legs fall apart, one of his hands grasping at Steve’s hip, trying to urge him on.

And then he heard the slick, wet sound of skin on skin, and looked up to see Steve running his hand over his own cock.

Tony felt his balls tighten, his spine jarring straight.

Oh God, he’s going to fuck me.

Steve Rogers is going to fuck me.

And then Steve leant into him, and Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, trying to draw him closer.

And then Steve’s fingers, opening him up again, the little rivets of sensation sharper now, more urgent.

The hot, dull press of Steve’s cock against his hole.

The searing bite of Steve pushing past his rim, the slow, crawling heat of Steve filing him up.

Tony literally had to gasp for air, almost panicking at the intensity of this sensation. He could feel Steve all the way though the centre of his body, the pressure throbbing deep in his thighs, up through his back. The aching pleasure of it, right at the edge of just-too-much.

“Jesus fuck,” Tony groaned, digging his nails into Steve’s hips.

“Tony…” Steve’s voice was so dark, so unashamedly needy. Tony flinched at the sound of it, feeling every nerve light up as he felt Steve move inside him.

“Oh fuck, fuck”

“Shhh, it’s okay baby” Steve whispered, still an edge of urgency on his tone, even as he tried to soothe him – which was, without a doubt, the hottest thing Tony had ever heard in his life. And then he stroked his hands over Tony’s chest, protective and possessive and caring, leaning down to kiss him.

Tony threw his arms around Steve’s neck, moaning against his mouth, another wave of pleasure rolling though him as Steve rocked his hips. And then he let one hand run along Steve’s shoulder, and thought of the perfect, powerful body pressed against him, those pretty lips, kissing him right now, that beautiful cock, inside him, fucking him-

And then Steve thrust into him, sharp and shallow, and then there were no thoughts in Tony’s head at all.

“Yes, God-” he cried, his head falling back, his whole body falling apart as the sensation crashed through him. And just as it burned itself out, tightening into that need for more, Steve pushed into him again – harder. Tony called out, trying for something like more, again, please, and ending up with a nonsense of consonants.

“Oh fuck Tony you feel so good,” Steve growled, his restraint breaking down right before Tony’s eyes. Tony felt Steve’s hips stutter against him, so obviously trying to go slow, his brow creased in concentration, biting his bottom lip.

“Harder,” Tony whispered, arcing up into him. “Please-”

“Fuck,” Steve hissed, jerking into him like it might’ve been involuntary. But then he just gave into it, thrusting his hips again, and again, quickly falling into a deep, brutal rhythm.

Tony cried out, somewhere between a scream and a sob, as the pleasure swamped over him, wave after wave. He locked his legs tighter around Steve, rocking up to meet him, his nails digging into Steve’s skin. Tony’s whole body surrendered to it, letting it pulse through every muscle, rolling all the way up to his shoulders.

He would’ve told Steve that he loved him, then.

It was just one of the thousands of words lost in the haze of his head, one of the things that had broken down into pleading moans and panting.

And then he felt Steve’s hands curling around his waist, gripping him harder, pulling Tony into him – hitting his prostate again. A sudden, jagged shock sliced through the thick, pulsing sensation Tony had been floating on, tugging him back into that state of immediate, focused need. And then again, and again, faster than Tony could process it. It ran away from him so quickly, curling hot and low inside him, almost painful-

And then Steve thrust into him again, and Tony just broke completely.

His entire body braced as his orgasm tore through him, at first just a blinding, overwhelming relief. It stripped every ounce of strength out of him, his entire body falling weak in Steve’s hands, a thousand little electric shivers running through his muscles as they relaxed-

A sharp twinge, all the way along his spine, as Steve jerked his hips again, his movement stuttering, his legs tensing against Tony’s thighs.

And then he heard Steve groan, from deep in his chest, low and feral and desperate-

And, okay – that’s now the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life-

And then Steve’s fingertips digging hard into his skin, as he buried himself into Tony, panting his name over and over as he came.

Tony was still trembling, his own climax still echoing through him, his limbs strangely distant and his mind completely blank.

A heavy fog seemed to close around him, his vision darkening, the whole world falling away from him…

He might’ve passed out, for just a second.

And then he felt the slow drag of Steve pulling out of him, the cold absence he left against his skin. Tony forced his eyes open, blinking his way through the floating purple shadows. He gazed up at Steve, watching the muscle ripple up along his torso, his skin flushed and sheened with sweat. And the way he was looking at Tony, adoring and overwhelmed and… happy.

He was especially beautiful, like that.

“Steve,” Tony whispered – or tried to. And then Steve smiled, and gathered Tony up against his chest, so that he could lie down on the couch with Tony cradled against him. Tony melted against him immediately, feeling as though he could carry on falling into him, like he could drown in the warmth of Steve’s skin.

He could feel his own heart pounding in his ears.

His chest was still heaving in a desperate attempt to draw enough air into his lungs, his head was still swimming.

And it didn’t even occur to him that soon enough he’d catch his breath, and then just stop breathing. That eventually his heartbeat would slow right down to nothing. In that moment, Tony just felt alive, exactly the same as he did, back when he was.

And all he knew was that everything felt good.

*

Steve had fallen outside of reality altogether.

Which was fine.

As it turned out, anxiety and doubt and fears for the future were all just inventions of the reality he’d left behind. Time itself seemed to no longer apply. Steve had no idea how long it had been since Tony drifted into sleep, right there in his arms. How long Steve had been lying here, staring at that beautiful face, tracing gentle touches over Tony’s back. How many times he’d buried his head into Tony’s hair, and just breathed him in.

Steve was so perfectly contented, so deeply and completely comfortable. His mind was calm, and mostly quiet – except for the occasional happy observation that he allowed to just drift through.

That Tony’s lips were impossibly lovely, especially when he was sleeping.

That Tony had such beautiful hands. Such talented hands.

How nice it was, to feel the weight of someone sleeping next to him.

How different it was, kissing someone you were actually in love with…

And then, at last, it occurred to him… He didn’t know when he’d slipped into thinking that.

He knew that he was in love with Tony… Obviously. Steve understood that completely. He felt like he'd understood that for a while now…

But he didn’t know when exactly he’d worked it out, or even how long it had been true for.

He found himself thinking back to the first time he saw Tony, telling himself that clearly, he couldn’t have been in love with him then… But it was so hard to think back to that moment and not love him. Everything Steve remembered about him was through this filter, every little detail came with context that he couldn’t have known at the time – but couldn’t unknow, now.

He remembered a moment, way back at the beginning, when he’d first accepted that he liked Tony… Was it then? Was there a moment later on when it became something else, a reason he had to think that word for the first time… When was the first time he’d thought it?

Steve felt like he should know that. Like it should have been an event, when it happened. Like he should really have thought about this before now. But it had been so easy to fall in love with Tony, that he’d never stopped to panic about the fact that he’d fallen in love at all.

…Oh God, he’d fallen in love.

And suddenly, Steve remembered that meant something, back in the reality he came from. That it was ‘a thing’.

That, actually, everything might be a bit different to how he’d thought it was… a bit more complicated…

Steve had never thought about where things could go with Tony. He’d always stopped himself from thinking altogether, when that question threatened to occur to him – because he just knew he wouldn’t like the answer. That was the basic assumption he’d been operating under all this time. That it was going to hurt like hell to give Tony up, but that obviously he’d have to… That he’d just have to deal with that loss when it happened. That there was no point dwelling on it now.

But what if he couldn’t deal with that loss when it happened? What if it was going to be more than just painful as hell?

…It would be losing the love of his life. That was just different.

Without even realising it, Steve had come crashing back to the real world. He’d remembered that there was such a thing as consequences, that there was such a thing as the future – that there were in fact a thousand potential futures, and he did care which one he ended up in, and it was up to him to do something about it-

That he might be able to do something about it.

…Which actually made him panic more.

It was like he’d spent the last few months trying to brace for a crash, trying not to think about the inevitable destruction – only to realise at the last moment that he was actually the one driving the truck.

The sudden shift in his perception, the immediate burden of responsibility, the overwhelming self-recrimination as he recognised how wrong he’d gotten it so far… The fresh realisation of how very much he wanted this thing, now that there was the slightest chance that he could have it.

It was terrifying.

Steve had constructed all his thoughts and all his actions around those few basic truths. That he would have to walk away from Tony. That, somehow, he’d have to be okay afterwards. That this whole thing was all in his head – that it was only his own heartbreak he had to worry about. And that had always felt like a cold, crushing sadness. A constant, dull ache that he’d simply tried to ignore…

But the thought that, if he’d just kissed Tony weeks ago, Tony might’ve kissed him back-

The idea that he’d been cluelessly watching this chance slip by him, all this time-

The thought that maybe, just maybe, Tony might feel something for him… or even that he could, one day, if Steve got it right…

He didn’t want to say it was worse than the hopelessness… But it was definitely more intense. A stab of white-hot panic as he raced to sort through all this new information-

Trying to work out how Tony felt about him, trying to unlearn everything he thought he knew yesterday.

Trying to picture what a life with Tony could be like, trying to include everything he’d just found out and set aside everything he’d wrongly assumed.

Trying to work out some way to keep Tony, trying to think of the right things to say… with a horrible feeling that he’d already gone past that point. That there were a thousand times he would have said something else, if he’d only known. That he’d already missed a hundred opportunities to help Tony, to show Tony that he cared… to make Tony like him.

Oh, God – he had no idea if Tony liked him.

As of yesterday, Steve had been so sure that Tony had come to like him as a friend. And he’d tried to just be happy with that… Pathetically nursing those seemingly meaningless, purely personal little victories, I know it doesn’t matter, but I like that I made him smile today… So confident that was all he could have, accepting so completely that these were the rules and priorities of life…

And now he didn’t know if he’d misread everything Tony had ever said to him – after all, it had never occurred to Steve that Tony wanted him. Up until last week, Steve had never ever considered whether there was something different about Tony, much less that he was a vampire. Steve had picked up on some hint of loneliness, he’d caught glimpses of some hidden trauma… but he’d had no clue it was something on that scale… Did that mean he’d gotten it all wrong?

Did Tony really want him tonight, or did he just want this?

Was Steve just an attractive stranger that Tony liked well enough, or was it more than that?

Oh…Had Tony really wanted any of this tonight…? Would he have done any of that, if he hadn’t been so emotional and exhausted and overwhelmed to finally say it all out loud…

Oh God – had Steve just taken advantage of him?

“Sir? I have an update on Sergeant Barnes’ condition.” JARVIS announced coolly, jarring Steve out of his train of thought.

And Tony opened his eyes, briefly dazed, his face still soft and sleepy when he mumbled,

“What’s that? What happened?”

And Steve felt his chest clench, suddenly overcome by such a pure and painful affection for him-

I can’t lose you.

I can’t leave you here alone.

I just can’t.

“Sergeant Barnes’ baseline readings suggest he is in the process of waking up,” JARVIS explained. “I would estimate that he will be fully conscious within the hour.”

“Right, yeah, okay,” Tony answered, running a ran through his hair. “Thank you.”

And then Steve literally held his breath, waiting for Tony to look up at him.

But he didn’t.

He dropped his head, his body tensing against Steve’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, when he couldn’t bare the pressure any longer.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Tony answered, his voice unnaturally light… Steve felt an immediate pang of alarm.

“Tony?” He pressed, swallowing down a bitter taste. And then, at last, Tony glanced up at him… and there was just something about his face. A slight shadow under his eyes, a softness in his skin… something…

“I’m okay,” Tony replied, uncomfortably. Trying to smile and not quite managing it. “Just a little breathless, is all.”

“Breathless?” Steve frowned, frantically searching through all that new information he’d had thrown at him, a few hours earlier. All those facts he’d not catalogued or processed yet… “Is that… meant to happen?”

Tony cringed, and glanced away again. And Steve heard a little voice hiss at him, like an embarrassed elder sibling, be careful what you’re just blurting out! He’s uncomfortable about this, remember?

“Uh, well, like I say, I don’t have to breathe at all… As long as I drink blood. But I didn’t, tonight. I… got distracted.” Tony muttered, aiming for light-hearted and simply ending up awkward.

And Steve had the all too familiar feeling of not know what to panic about first.

He really didn’t want to say the wrong thing about Tony being a vampire – which was actually far more challenging now that he did have time to think about it. He knew he’d found some words tonight, that he’d really felt every one of them… that they’d seemed like the right words, at least at the time. But now he was second guessing himself. All too aware of all the potential pitfalls and misinterpretations of everything he might say. And maybe, if Tony was still upset or Steve was still reacting, he’d have just said them anyway, and maybe they’d have been right. But it was so much harder to force the words over that frantic self-doubt.

And he really didn’t want to say the wrong things about what had happened between them. He was increasingly aware of how long had passed, with neither of them saying anything… increasingly concerned about why Tony wasn’t mentioning it, why he wouldn’t meet Steve’s eye… And Steve could think of all sorts of things that he wanted to say – that he loved Tony, that he was happy it had happened, that it was incredible, that he wanted it to happen again. But there was this deep resistance to actually saying any of it, all of a sudden. A fear of ruining everything, upsetting Tony… making an ass of himself.

And, on top of all that, there was the growing recognition of just how worried he was about Tony. All the things he’d heard for the first time last night, that just seemed to get worse and worse, the longer they had to settle in his head. All the things he didn’t know… all the new concerns that had started to occur to him-

He hadn’t realised that Tony had to drink every day. That there would be such a visible impact to being a few hours late.

And now Steve was worried that Tony might be seriously ill right now – but he couldn’t find the right way to ask him.

He was desperate to tell Tony to go and drink, to take better care of himself… But he felt sure that would upset Tony, and anyway, he didn’t know the first thing about this, to be giving advice.

“Is that… bad?” Steve asked, nervously. Giving into the biggest fear first. Tony shook his head self consciously.

“Not really. It’ll be fine. I’ll… fix it later.”

Oh. He doesn’t want to drink in front of me.

He doesn’t want me to see.

I have to get out of the way. Now.

…Oh, but he didn’t know how to leave it.

He couldn’t just walk away without saying something about what had happened-

He still couldn’t think of the right thing to say-

Jesus Christ Steve, he might literally be dying here.

“Well, I can go and wait with Bucky,” he suggested, reluctantly. “If you want to… fix it now, I mean.”

“Um, okay, sure,” Tony nodded. “Someone should probably get up there, anyway…” And then Tony rolled over him, to reach for his clothes… and really, it was just the feeling of Tony’s skin on his again. A physical jolt, that pushed Steve into blurting out,

“I meant it.”

Tony froze, mid reach.

“Everything I said, before…” Steve clarified, increasingly anxious. “And… I don’t know, what you want to happen now…”

And Tony huffed, what might’ve been a laugh.

“It’s not what I want to happen…” he breathed, like he might’ve been talking to himself. And then he picked his clothes up, hiding in the motion as he carried on talking. “I meant all of it too. I mean, I don’t actually know exactly what I said… But I know I meant it. And it was good, if that’s what you’re asking. I am happy it happened.”

“…But?” Steve prompted. Wishing it hadn’t sounded so needy…

“Honestly… I’ve never given a single thought to being in this situation. Because I just knew I never would be,” Tony explained, sitting up so that he could slip his shirt over his shoulders. “And I have a lifetime’s worth of reasons to… think about, I guess. All the reasons I can’t have what I want… which were all the reasons this would never happen… so, now I just… don’t know.”

And then he made himself look at Steve again. His eyes soft, and full of some hard-to-place emotion that was somehow reassuring.

“I meant everything I said, Steve,” he assured. “It’s just the other stuff. The things that make the stuff I did say… more complicated, in real life…”

And… okay.

Steve would’ve preferred it if Tony had said that he loved him, or said that he wanted it to happen again, or even that he’d like to keep seeing Steve, just see how it went.

But…

It wasn’t a no.

And somehow it didn’t feel personal… In the moment, it just seemed like Tony was more unsure of the circumstances than he was about Steve, per se.

And Steve could understand that.

He wanted to understand that – he certainly didn’t want to pressure Tony, or make this all about himself, while Tony had so much personal stuff to work through. Steve wanted to help with that, not be an additional burden.

And he really wanted Tony to be able to drink.

So… Okay.

This was… okay.

“I understand,” Steve smiled. Hoping he didn’t sound as Dr Phil as he thought he did. “Maybe we should talk about this later. When you’ve had some time to think, I mean.” And Tony smiled – the first smile that had seemed genuine since he woke up – and nodded.

“Okay, I’m going to shut up and stop distracting you,” Steve mocked himself, reaching for his t-shirt. Hurrying to get dressed now, thinking only of how he was stopping Tony from making himself well again.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to…expire on you, or anything,” Tony told him, his tone a little warmer now. Almost teasing. Steve felt his cheeks warm, simply because Tony had guessed what he was thinking – and carried on dressing at the same pace.

But there was that nagging little anxiety that Tony’s comment had just roused.

That question that had been going around his head for the last few minutes.

And now that Tony had kind of brought it up…

Honestly, it was just that Steve really wanted to know. Eventually, his temptation outweighed his fear of saying the wrong thing, and it just fell out of his mouth,

“How long… How often do you have to…”

Tony glanced back at him.

“Depends,” he answered, reasonably enough. “Some batches are… I don’t know, more nutritious? Depends on what blood it is, and how healthy the donors are – and how much of it I can bring myself to drink, at the time. I mean, some of it’s just vile, so I drink like half a mug of it and wonder why I feel weak again by lunchtime…” And then he seemed to catch himself, like he was scared he’d just said something awful, and rushed to finish, “but I’d get at least a couple of days, before I was in real trouble. Even on the worst of the crap I drink.”

“Why is what you drink so bad?” Steve frowned, before he could think to stop himself. A defensive impulse, really. An immediate sense of injustice that Tony should settle for anything less than the best, an instinct to right that for him.

“Because… You know, we actually have a blood donor shortage in this country. A lot of places do. There aren’t enough people who donate blood anyway, and then a lot of that isn’t healthy enough to actually be useful… and, I don’t know, when you don’t have enough blood to help all the kids with cancer, and then some shady billionaire calls and says actually he wants to drink it… It just seemed a bit cartoon supervillain to me. Like something Mr Burns would do.”

“So… where does yours come from?”

“Animals, mostly. Some of which make better donors than others – some of it tastes better than others… And some human blood. Mostly stuff that the blood banks can’t use, because it failed basic screening – but I can’t catch anything,” his tone changed sharply into desperate assurance when he added that. “That’s why I take it, because I can’t get physically catch any blood-based illnesses. So, I can’t pass them on, either-”

“Oh, me neither,” Steve reassured him, when he finally worked out what Tony was talking about. “It’s a serum thing…”

“Oh, right. Well, just so you know, I wouldn’t have… put you at any risk, or-”

“Tony, I know,” Steve told him, firmly. “Really, I was never worried about that…”

Actually, at the moment, he was mostly worrying about the revelation that – on top of everything else – Tony was trying to survive on a basic ration of diseased blood-

“And it’s fine,” Tony forced the conversation forward, glancing away again. “I mean, it gets the job done. I’m not going to starve to death on it…”

Which Tony probably hadn’t intended to be a hint, but was enough for Steve to prompt himself,

“Well, not unless I stop you actually drinking it, forever…” he joked, weakly, awkwardly making for the elevator. “I’ll, uh, see you upstairs?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute.” Tony nodded, brusquely, already heading over to the little kitchenette area in the corner of the workshop.

I love you, you know.

But Steve didn’t say it.

He just took a deep breath, and stepped into the elevator.

Chapter Text

Tony had calmly decided that he was probably in shock.

He’d been sitting on the couch in his workshop, staring into the middle distance, for maybe five hours now. Ever since that dream-like exchange when he’d said goodbye to Steve and Bucky at the elevator, with a smile that felt strange on his face… Tony didn’t even know what he’d come back to the workshop for. He’d just sort of drifted here in a trance, and sat down, and…

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been thinking, all morning.

There had been thoughts. He knew that. Oddly distant, surprisingly unemotional thoughts… observations that occurred to him, simply and entirely at random.

You can never have an actual relationship, though.

You don’t age, you can never have children, you can’t even go outside during the day.

You’d still be at so much risk if anyone else found out about you – and so would Pepper and Rhodey. And Steve and Bucky, if you don’t put a stop to this.

What Obie did to you was so cruel, and you’ve not thought about that in so long, and when that hits you again-

You can’t really be a part of the world-

There are more problems than the ones Steve fixed last night

And, alongside those should-be-devastating revelations, there were the should-be-ecstatic insights,

Steve did want you though, you know that part was true.

Steve is just as furious about what Obie did as you are. He gets it.

All those things you thought you could never have-

Steve did fix some things last night.

Something is better.

And the questions. Just questions, that drifted through his head without context or reaction or any attempt to find an answer,

Did I really want to bite Steve?

Does that mean Obie was right?

Does Steve actually like me?

Did I tell him I loved him?

Did I already tell him this was over?

Does it have to be over…?

And all of that was just sounds in his head. Isolated sentences that drifted through his mind like clouds across a summer sky. Purely decorative elements, with no power to shape or define the mood he was in. He noted some of them, and ignored others, and felt nothing specific about anything-

Except.

Except that, occasionally, and with no warning what-so-ever, Tony would remember some little detail about the night before.

The feeling of Steve’s chest pressed up against him, the dizzying safety and surrender of being held in that embrace.

The look that flashed up in Steve’s eyes when Tony clawed at his back.

The sound of Steve made when he came-

Those memories weren’t just words in Tony’s head. Those images had a sound, and a taste… they felt of something. He didn’t know what to call that feeling… Like everything, it just sort of washed over him, without any analysis… But unlike everything else, those memories got a reaction. They made his skin pleasantly warm. They made him smile, and unconsciously put his arms around himself. He could fall into those memories, for endless minutes at a time, before he snapped himself out of it and back into… nothing at all, really.

At least once, it occurred to him that daydreaming about Steve sucking his cock was probably an inappropriate response. That he should probably be more anxious about those memories, that there should be other things that he was thinking about instead…

Just that thought, this is probably inappropriate… and then nothing.

Until he heard the elevator stir into life.

“JARVIS?” He demanded, his system suddenly flooded with adrenaline, his eyes locked on the elevator door as he jumped to his feet. There is someone in my house-

“Colonel Rhodes, sir…?” JARVIS explained, sounding slightly concerned.

“Did you tell me he was here?”

“…You just said to let him in, sir.” JARVIS confirmed, in the same hesitant tone.

“…Did I?” Tony asked, baffled. Trying to work out if he did have a vague memory of that, actually… or if he was just imagining it now-

But Rhodey stepped into the workshop before Tony could finish the thought – and immediately paused in alarm.

“Woah. You okay?” He asked, looking Tony up and down. And Tony finally realised that he was still in battle stance, and dropped his shoulders.

“Yeah, sorry, you surprised me,” he muttered, shaking his head. Trying to bring himself back into the real world, trying to remember how to think…

“I surprised you?” Rhodey repeated, narrowing his eyes. When Tony just shrugged at him, he was forced to guess, “you been up all night?”

And Tony felt that stupid grin break out on his face, without warning and completely of its own accord. He turned away in a pointless attempt to hide it.

“Uh, no, not all night…” he answered, softly.

“Okay, you know you’re acting weird, right?” Rhodey sighed, taking a step closer. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

And… Wow. How to begin with that one.

Tony found himself trying to pull those aimless observations together, put them into some sort of order – actually thinking about them for the first time.

Well, I told someone about me being a vampire-

Well, I slept with Steve last night-

I’m actually wondering if I’ve had this whole vampire thing wrong for last twenty years-

I’m starting to wonder if Obie was right about some stuff-

Ah. There was the anxiety he might’ve expected earlier. A sudden realisation of how huge this all was – how ridiculous it was that he’d just been sitting here in a haze for hours, oblivious to the whole world burning.

“So… Lots of things happened last night…” Tony heard himself saying, most of his attention still focused on the inside of his own head. “And… Now I’m not sure if everything just changed… or if, maybe everything is exactly like I thought it was, really, and all that’s happened is that I’ve just fucked everything up…”

“Okay-”

“…Or if maybe everything is like I thought it was, and that’s okay, and it’s just kind of… nice it happened…? I mean, maybe it’s all just the same shit, and this is just a thing that happened” Tony just carried on, talking to himself now. Trying to work out the shape of this thing. “Until what happens afterwards… but maybe that was always going to be awful, and maybe it’s actually less awful now. Or, maybe it’s more awful, losing him now… But maybe that’s just the price, and maybe that was worth it – until that’s not the whole price, and I’m actually just going to keep paying for this-”

“Tony-”

“Or, I don’t know if maybe things are worse now – or if things have always been so much worse than I thought they were… If Obie was always right about that stuff and I was just lying to myself, or if I really was better not thinking about any of it at all-”

“Tony,” Rhodey interrupted far more forcefully, pulling Tony out of his spiral. And then Tony watched Rhodey’s face soften into something more sympathetic. Rhodey swallowed whatever he was about to say, a different kind of concern creasing his brow… planning how to handle this. “Okay, what actually happened?” He tried, in the calm, serious voice of a police officer at a crime scene.

And, of all the answers Tony could’ve come out with, he found himself saying,

“I… think the guy I’m in love with might actually have a crush on me. And I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or just a thing.”

And then he saw Rhodey’s double take, and recognised that had been a really random place to begin.

Tony screwed his face up, and shook his head, thinking he’d just start over-

“What guy you’re in love with?” Rhodey demanded, clearly getting carried away. “What, Steve?” And then he saw Tony flinch, and caught himself.

“I…uh, really haven’t been keeping you up to date with this whole thing, have I?” Tony remembered aloud. And he could see that Rhodey wanted to tell him, no, you really haven’t. Rhodey had probably come here planning to gently tease Tony over how elusive he’d been for the last few weeks, hoping to needle some actual details out of him…

“Do you want to sit down?” He said instead, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll make coffee.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile at that. How well Rhodey knew him…

He sank back down into the dent he’d made on the couch, while Rhodey picked his way through the debris littering the workshop.

Suddenly it occurred to Tony that he was tired. That there was still a dull ache in the small of his back, and the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes… And then he felt that little twinge in his stomach.

He grimaced distastefully, as he thought back to the blood he drank just a few hours ago. A particularly bad batch, even by his minimal standards – watery and gritty and of hardly any use. And Tony knew that meant he should actually drink more of it, but the very thought-

So I drink like half a mug of it and wonder why I feel weak again by lunchtime…

See, what did that make him smile? Just because he’d said it to Steve?

…That was a horrible thing to have said to Steve. He should feel terrible about so many of the things he said to Steve-

“Here,” Rhodey pushed a coffee mug into his hands, and flopped down onto the other end of the couch. “Tell you what, why don’t you just start at the beginning?”

“Remind me again where I left you?” Tony huffed, self-consciously.

“Last time we talked, you were trying to ‘weasel out of’ ever seeing him again,” Rhodey summarised, in a pointedly neutral tone. “And you weren’t sure you even liked him – but you did think he was hot. And then I went on the Iraq trip, and texted you at least once a week to ask how it was going – and all you ever said was that Bucky’s arm was getting better.”

“Hm,” Tony nodded. “Yeah, well, you know what I was worried about back then… Just, in general… But yeah, since then I… Kinda fell in love with him.”

Rhodey did a better job of masking his reaction that time. Just about.

“And I know that’s probably just because I’m a pathetic recluse, and any shrink would warn you I was likely to fixate…” Tony carried on, his voice coming to him a little more comfortably. “Or, I don’t know, maybe it was just the nicest guy on earth that happened to walk in… But, whatever. At some point in the last few weeks I just started feeling differently about him. And that was… I don’t know. Probably going to be a problem anyway. I mean, even before last night, I was already thinking it was going to be hard to get over all this…”

And it occurred to him, that one issue would be enough to fill a hundred evenings of anxious self-analysis. He could talk to Rhodey for hours, just about the fact that he was foolish enough to fall in love. That was without everything else-

“So… What happened last night?” Rhodey asked in that same diplomatic tone.

“Well, he and Bucky came over, because Bucky was getting some pains in his arm… It wasn’t even a scheduled appointment,” Tony noted – like that mattered. “And during the procedure something went wrong, and I ended up taking a blow to the face.”

“Are you okay?” Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah, of course I am – even though no one else would be, if that happened.” Tony explained, and watched the realisation flash up in Rhodey’s eyes.

“So, he guessed you’re a vampire?”

“No, it’s worse than that,” Tony laughed, joylessly. “No, in my panic to fix the mess with Bucky, I opened all the med lab cabinets and told Steve to go looking for a bio-tech kit. I basically invited him to view my blood exhibition…” And Tony shuddered, remembering all the reasons his entire existence was creepy-

And there was that internal conflict again.

After all those years of hating himself, it had become a habit. The curling in his gut was automatic, the instinct to flinch away from himself was as fundamental as the impulse to blink. All those thoughts still jumped into his head, fully formed and word perfect after twenty years of constant drilling-

Anyone would be horrified, if they knew what you were

If Steve saw what you have to do to survive, he’d run a mile

If anyone finds out you’re a vampire, the world will end.

And yet.

Now he knew that at least some of his most fundamental assumptions were flawed. He had seen it happen, he did understand it – he even felt changed by it, somehow.

It just hadn’t stopped him feeling all the other things. The things that had been directly disproved… but he was still so sure must be true. They’d always been true.

The things that had undeniably happened didn’t fit with the world as Tony had always known it to be. The disgust he’d always felt didn’t work alongside this happy enlightenment he really did feel as well. These reactions couldn’t exist at the same time. Logically, they were incompatible.

…And yet.

“…How bad was it?” Rhodey guessed, gingerly.

“It was… wonderful. I think,” Tony sighed. He noted Rhodey’s truly heroic – but ultimately unsuccessful – attempt to keep his excitement from flashing up on his face. Tony made a point of carrying on before he could say anything. “At the time, at least. Because, for a start, he didn’t freak out. About the blood, or about me being a vampire, or… any of it. And that would’ve been a pretty big thing, I think. And I think that part’s just good… I mean, maybe it’d mean rethinking some stuff around the edges… but if it was just that, I don’t know if I’d have to rethink my whole approach to life. I think that would’ve just been nice, and maybe kind of better…”

“But?” Rhodey prompted.

“Well, also… it was the other stuff he said,” Tony went on, more cautiously. Not confident the words were going to be there when he got to the end of the sentence. “I don’t really know how it happened… But suddenly, we’re talking about all this other stuff… suddenly I’m talking about all this other stuff…”

“Like?”

“…Like the night Obie bit me,” came out as a whisper. Tony dropped his eyes before he could see Rhodey’s reaction – but he heard the sudden intake of breath.

“Wow.”

“And… it’s not just that he didn’t freak out about that either. It’s the way he saw it, and the other things he said – and the fact that I know he really, really wanted to kill Obie, when I told him,” and Tony glanced up in time to see Rhodey give a stoic little nod of solidarity. “And… it’s all so big, it’s like it won’t fit in my head. I keep thinking about all these things I… know, now? But it’s like I don’t know them, like I keep forgetting to take them into account, or I don’t know how to… slot them in. I don’t know how to make sense of any of it… and that’s making me feel like I don’t really understand anything…”

At last, Rhodey allowed himself to smile – or he couldn’t contain it anymore. Either way.

“Look, Tony…” He began, softly, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. “I’ve never thought it’d be easy for you, whatever way you did things. I know that you’re gonna have to shoulder a lot in this world, whatever happens – and I am sorry for that,” he met Tony’s eye and waited for Tony to smile a little acknowledgement. “And I know it’d be hard for your to change your life now, and I know there’s not an easy life for you to change it to – I think you think I don’t get that, but I do. I just… I always thought there were better ways for you to live. It’s not like I haven’t been saying this.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony muttered, a prickle of resistance running up the back of his neck. Another remembered behaviour, probably. His ‘usual’ response to Rhodey’s endless attempts to help him.

…Did this mean he had to rethink that reaction, too?

This whole exchange with Rhodey, for the last twenty years?

His whole relationship with Rhodey, in a way… and Pepper…

His answer to everything.

…Did this mean Rhodey had actually been right, all this time-

“But you don’t know, that’s the thing,” Rhodey corrected, gently. “And that’s what’s bothering you right now – it’s that scary, painful feeling when you realise you don’t know. Having to think about your life… maybe even changing it. I’m not saying that’s not tough… but is it a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted, with a shrug.

“Doesn’t sound like anything bad happened,” Rhodey smiled. “Honestly, it sounds like you met someone special, and you actually let them be special, for once. And if this guy made you feel good about yourself – if it’s maybe making you question even… some of this,” and he gestured to the workshop, as a shorthand for Tony’s grim and lonely life, “then yeah, I think that’s a good thing. Stressful, maybe. Simple? Not likely. And maybe it doesn’t change everything, or fix everything… But, honestly man, I always thought you should talk about… that night. I always thought you could interact more with the world. I always thought there would be people who were okay with the vampire thing. You know I did. And even if it only makes you rethink that much… Seriously, I think it’d be worth the sleepless night.”

“Maybe, if it had only made me rethink those things….” Tony sighed. “Or, I don’t know… Forever, I’ve had it down, you know? Obie did a horrible thing, and made me into a horrible thing, because he wanted to control me. And I can’t change what he did, or help the horrible thing I am – but I can make sure I never become the thing he said I’d be. And everything he said about it was a lie – I told myself that… all that stuff about natural blood lust and coming of age and – it was all lies. I didn’t even have to think about what they were, I just knew that. And now… Now I’m thinking about it again. Well, no,” he correctly himself sharply. “Now I’m worried that I will start thinking about it again, when my brain starts working. All those memories are in there now, just waiting for me to start picking them to pieces…”

“Tony, do you really think there’s any chance Obie was telling the truth about that whole bloodlust thing?”

“I don’t know,” Tony whispered, looking away again.

“You really think that one day you’ll ‘attain an innate understanding of who is ready to die’, or experience a ‘moment of physical joy’ when you kill someone?” Rhodey pressed on, gently. And Tony felt his teeth clench, just at the rhythm of the words… It had been so long since he thought about the specific phrases Obie had used.

“I don’t know,” Tony hissed, “I just… if any part of what I know could be wrong-”

“That doesn’t mean it is,” Rhodey assured, warmly. “And I know it’s hard to think about what Obie said, and I get that it’s going to be really hard to ask yourself if it’s true – but I absolutely know that you’re going to get to the end of it and realise it wasn’t. I know, if you really thought about it, you’d still be sure that Obie was talking out of his ass about all that. Because I know you, and I know you’re never going to be able to sit there and watch someone die.”

Which Tony did find immediately comforting, actually. The instant recognition that, even if he’d thought about biting Steve, he’d never want to hurt him – that, obviously, he couldn’t bear to watch Steve die. The reassuring certainty that he couldn’t stand there and watch anyone die…

…not yet you couldn’t.

But you were so sure you’d never want to bite someone, once.

What if this is how it starts?

…What if one day you do just want to hurt him-

“And if you did think about everything Obie said,” Rhodey went on, optimistically, “however much it hurt, at least at the end you’d know he was wrong. And that’s gotta be better than having to keep telling yourself he was? And… maybe, as well as all the stuff you’d know you were right about… Maybe there would be some stuff you got to change your mind over. Like just believing that he made you into something horrible…”

“And if I think about all that and decide I was right, and I am something horrible,” Tony bit out, over a growing sense of frustration. “What if I’m stuck with really knowing that, rather than just accepting it?”

“Well, I guess that’s the gamble I’m taking, pushing this idea on you,” Rhodey conceded. “But I gotta tell you, I think the odds are in my favour here.”

Tony tried to smile at that… But he’d just recognised the source of this irritation. The struggle to explain his fears to Rhodey, to get Rhodey to take them seriously-

Without admitting he’d wanted to bite Steve.

And he couldn’t tell Rhodey that. Tony couldn’t even bring himself to wonder what Rhodey’s reaction would be. He couldn’t bear to picture Rhodey’s face, or guess what thoughts might run though his head… Tony couldn’t stand the idea of crushing Rhodey’s faith in him like that.

So, instead, Tony just blurted it out,

“I had sex with him.”

“Wait, what? When?” Rhodey exclaimed, his careful tone immediately overwhelmed. “What, last night?”

Then Tony smiled. Simply at how honest a reaction it was, how human. He thought he preferred it to the measured responses of before.

“After we had the big talk,” Tony replied, a little sheepishly. “I just decided it would be a good idea to kiss him – which makes no sense, by the way, because I really thought when I did it that he wasn’t going to kiss me back. And, I mean, who kisses someone already thinking they aren’t going to kiss you back-”

“But he did kiss you back?” Rhodey cut in, suddenly sounding like an excited high schooler.

“…Yeah,” Tony nodded, biting back that same silly grin.

“And, wait, ‘you don’t know if that’s a bad thing or just a thing’?” Rhodey remembered. “That’s what you meant when you said you think he has a crush on you – because he actually had sex with you?”

“Well, no – just cos someone fucks you, doesn’t mean they like you,” Tony corrected him. He heard Rhodey huff out an exasperated little breath, and went on “but… I don’t know, thinking about what actually happened… maybe he does…”

“You think?” Rhodey groaned, without malice. And then he snapped up to meet Tony’s gaze, and added, “and how the hell have you turned that into a bad thing?”

“Because…” Tony started, wearily.

Because I want to bite his neck.

“Because in seventy years’ time, I’ll still look like this – and he’ll be dying,” he sighed, bitterly. “And he’ll have to look back on all those wasted years, when he could’ve been meeting someone he could grow old with, or have a family with, or go to the beach with… years he’ll have spent cooped up inside with me, and this weird ass life.”

The childish excitement melted away from Rhodey’s face as Tony spoke, settling into an expression of such genuine sympathy… It cooled some of Tony’s frustration, and made his ribs feel uncomfortably tight.

“Which is why falling in love with him in the first place was such a bad move,” Tony went on. “I mean, if I’d just liked him, or thought he was hot, I wouldn’t be thinking about seventy years from now. Maybe I could trick myself into thinking I could just have a bit of fun with him… But I know walking away is going to kill me, and it’s only going to hurt worse the more time I spend with him. And it’ll cost him more, the longer I let it go on. And how can I let it go on, knowing it can’t go anywhere? Knowing it can only hurt him… And that’s why I’m thinking maybe it’s actually worse if he likes me.”

“How is that worse?” Rhodey asked – back to the gentle voice again.

“Because knowing I can’t have him is hard enough,” Tony confessed. “I don’t want to have to make that case to him. I don’t want to have to tell him no… I don’t know if I trust myself to tell him no, which really means I don’t trust myself not to hurt him. And if he just got caught in the moment, or if he just thought it would be fun or just thought I was hot, or whatever… Then hey, maybe that could’ve just been a thing that happened. And maybe it could just have been… good at the time, and maybe that’d be something, however much it hurt afterwards. But if he wants to keep doing this… If he somehow thinks that we could just get to know each other better, or there’s somewhere to ‘see where it goes’… That just makes the whole thing even more complicated. And… dangerous.”

“So, you’d rather he didn’t like you?”

“… I know that would be better.” Tony answered, very carefully.

And then he let his head fall into his hands, and rubbed his eyes – only then realising how sore they were. His stomach twinged again, his tongue already coated in bile at the thought of drinking… He was tired, and achy, and worn down.

But, at the same time, he was still slightly giddy, and lighter somehow…

Something was better.

“So, in conclusion,” Tony announced, theatrically. “Since you went on your last trip, I have fallen in love with a man I can never have, had sex with him knowing full well it can’t go anywhere, and I’m already doubting my ability to not lead him on. And I broke all the rules I’ve had for the last twenty years, and now I can’t remember why they were rules. And I’m not sure if I’m actually less of a monster than I thought I was, or way more of a monster than I ever imagined. And it’s possible I just wasted the last twenty years of my life, because I never needed to do any of this, or I possibly just wasted the last twenty years of my life by fucking the whole plan at the last minute. And, maybe, I just had the most wonderful night of my life, and it’s really made me think that something could be better. Or, of course, there’s the chance that I just have the best night of my life… and that’s it. Or, maybe I just had the best night of my life, and the price is going to be suffering so much more for the next few centuries...” he trailed off, running out of energy.

“But…It was the best night of your life…?”

And Tony just grinned… and finally took a mouthful of his coffee, which was lukewarm by now. He knew that Rhodey was absolutely dying to ask him more questions. Tony had the strangest feeling he wouldn’t mind answering those questions…

But then he heard Rhodey sigh, heavily.

“You look tired,” he commented, biting back a little smile.

“Yeah…” Tony agreed, “And hungry, and my back hurts. And my eyes hurt…”

“Hm,” Rhodey nodded, softly. “You should eat something, and get some sleep.”

“Drink something,” Tony corrected mindlessly, grimacing again.

Still, at least once he’d suffered through another mug of reject blood, he could go to bed… and the prospect of rest was genuinely comforting.

And Tony did think… or feel… that maybe once he’d had some sleep…

Maybe everything would be better.

*

Steve tried to go to bed, when he and Bucky got back to the Tower.

He knew, logically, that he’d been awake for a full twenty-four hours by then. That he’d had a particularly tiring day – emotionally and physically. That he should want rest by now… that he probably needed it.

Unfortunately, his head had never been more awake.

Steve had curled up under the covers, and squeezed his eyes shut, and willed his body to give into fatigue… But his mind had carried on bouncing around the inside of his skull like a ping pong ball, jumping from one thought to the next without any obvious connection.

He’d tried telling his brain to be quiet – which proved as effective and as frustrating as yelling at the weather.

He’d tried appeasing each worry, talking to himself in firm and rational terms… but before he could quell any one anxiety, another would pipe up loud and clear and petulant.

He’d tried gathering the concerns together into one cohesive thought process, thinking it might be less overwhelming if he could name it or find a framework for it. But every time Steve thought he had an order or a shape to this thing, some random fear would shout up from nowhere and derail his thinking completely-

So, in the end he gave up on that too.

In fact, less than an hour after he got into bed, Steve gave up on the idea of resting all together. Trying to force himself to sleep had proven more stressful than simply staying awake – so, he got up. Without giving it any real thought, he pulled on some old clothes and headed down to the gym. Throwing a few blows at one of the punching bags had always been his go-to solution at times like this.

And, for a few minutes, it worked. Steve was able to put all his excess energy and all his tension into the physical exertion of it, focusing his entire being into those simple, brutal motions. He listened to the rhythm of his heart, and his revelled in the pure relief of his breathing, and he let his mind run away from him in the same way as his body. The background noise faded; the resistance melted away. He let those ideas and memories flow through him, as he let that force run up his back and through his arms,

I want so much to hold him,

              He aimed a powerful jab into the bag, the shock reverberating up his arm in a not-unpleasant way.

I want so much to have him,

              Another sharp punch, a stabbing recoil in his shoulder.

I want so much to help him,

              An almighty blow that shook the chains in their foundations, a jarring screech of tortured metal-

Steve stopped, watching anxiously as the punching bag rocked violently against its restraints, feeling strangely distant from the pounding of his heart or the burning in his lungs. For a few seconds, the only thought in his head was, I really don’t want to break anymore gym equipment…

And then, as his body and the bag began to quieten, Steve heard the echo of one single thought.

I want so much to help him.

And, the more Steve thought about that, the clearer everything else seemed to get.

Which wasn’t to say that any of the other stuff had suddenly become any less complicated. Steve still hadn’t really processed the fact that he’d fallen in love, or the fact that he’d had sex with someone that wasn’t Bucky, or the fact that any of that had happened with Tony Stark… He still didn’t have an answer to any of the questions that had occurred to him at random, all morning.

But suddenly Steve realised – none of that mattered.

What he wanted and what he felt and what that said about him… Steve couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to care about any of that, right now. Not now that he’d started thinking about Tony – his Tony – suffering in so many ways… Not now that he’d realised this deep and painful desire to protect him.

Steve didn’t really have the words for it. There was just this flood of emotions, when he remembered Tony sobbing. Steve’s heart swelled; his arms tensed in an physical need to hold Tony close to him… Steve needed to take that pain away. It was an instinctive thing, a primal thing. More real and more important than anything else he might have to think about at the moment.

He thought of Tony being lost and lonely.

He thought of Tony feeling inadequate and inhuman.

He thought of Tony being weak and vulnerable, simply because of his selfless impulse to leave the best for other people-

Steve just had to help him-

And then he heard a familiar echo in the corridor, which pulled him halfway out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice was soft and sleepy, almost slurring, as he walked into the gym.

“Hey,” Steve replied, on auto pilot. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I slept for a month,” Bucky groaned, stretching his back as if to illustrate. And then he paused, and fixed Steve with a more aware look, and asked, “so, what’s the deal with Tony then?”

Steve let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt like he should be more prepared for that question. Obviously, Bucky would want to make sure that Tony was okay after what happened. He would wonder how Tony could be okay, what mechanism had protected Tony from harm… and protected Bucky from hurting him. He’d already made a few drowsy enquiries, as Steve and Tony had helped him to his feet last night – and Tony had just smiled, and said that everything was fine, and that Steve would explain it later…

And now it was later, and Steve had no idea how to explain.

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming burden of responsibility… and a fierce protective instinct. He knew immediately that he wanted to get this exactly right – not because Steve thought there was anything delicate about it, but because he knew Tony did.

The idea of using terms that Tony would find offensive, or giving an impression that Tony would think false, or saying anything that Tony wouldn’t like – about this, of all things – filled Steve with a sense of dread.

“You okay?” Bucky prompted, stepping further into the gym, his eyes narrowing at Steve.

“Yeah, I’m okay…” Steve huffed.

“Yeah?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “Cos you’re doing a really good impression of someone who’s not okay…”

Steve managed a thin smile. Actually, he was probably better than he’d ever been… or, he would be, if it was possible to separate how he felt from how Tony was. Steve was thrilled to discover Tony wanted him, he was genuinely carrying less tension in his shoulders, he had a hundred wonderful memories he would’ve loved to fall into… But it was all secondary to what he felt for Tony. The memory of Tony collapsing against him, or the pain in his eyes when he was was telling that story, or the fact that he’d really assumed that Steve was ‘going along with it’… Steve might’ve felt a lot of things, if he could’ve gotten past that. But there was no getting past that – not unless he fixed it.

“Tony’s a vampire,” Steve sighed, already feeling treacherous. He knew he was allowed to tell Bucky this – there was no reasonable way he could keep it from him, and anyway, Tony had outright said he could… But still, he felt an immediate resistance to saying any of this to anyone.

“Okay…” Bucky frowned. “And, what… Vampires have face-punch-absorbing powers or something?”

“Something like that,” Steve breathed a laugh.

“…Okay, I don’t really know what a vampire is. But fine,” Bucky conceded, easily. “As long as you’re sure I really didn’t hurt him.”

“You didn’t,” Steve smiled, more genuinely. Pleased and proud and maybe even touched that Bucky had reacted in exactly the way he’d expected – whatever Steve’s anxieties had been, they’d never been about what Bucky might say.

“So, what is the problem, then?” Bucky pushed on. “…Did something happen last night?”

Steve dropped his eyes, and then pointedly focused his attention on unwrapping the binding around his knuckles.

The problem was that Tony was miserable. It was the obvious answer to Bucky’s question. The only answer to his question. The trouble was, Steve couldn’t possibly hope to explain it to Bucky without sharing the details of Tony’s trauma… and Steve didn’t feel like he had the permission or the right to do that.

And he’d feel so disloyal anyway, if he and Bucky got into a discussion of Tony’s life behind his back.

And Steve knew that if he mentioned anything else that had happened last night, Bucky would want to talk about it… And Steve didn’t want to bother with that distraction, right now. His head was too focused on Tony’s suffering, his attention fully committed elsewhere. Even the thought of having to continue a conversation about something else was frustrating.

“I…don’t really want to talk about it,” Steve muttered, eventually. Already bracing himself for an interrogation…

But Bucky just sighed.

“You’re planning on doing something dramatic,” wasn’t even a question. “Do you even know what it is yet?”

“No,” Steve admitted – not bothering to argue with the underlying assumption.

“Well, when you figure it out, can you at least give me a heads up if it’s gonna get me shot?” Bucky surrendered, rolling his eyes.

“I promise,” Steve smiled, mostly just pleased he could go back to his own thought process…

Although, if he’d been less consumed by that, Steve would probably have realised that… Bucky gave up on that way too easily…

*

By that night, Tony was beginning to feel a little more like himself. Still somewhat emotional, and confused, and unsettled… But he did feel better for a few hours sleep. His head felt clearer now. Things had started to seem a bit more real.

Rhodey had stayed until he woke up again, just like Tony knew he would. And Rhodey had poured more coffee, and made another careful attempt to get Tony to talk about it… and accepted it, kindly, when Tony realised he really didn’t want to, yet. By then, Tony had started to feel the pressure of all those issues to be dealt with, along with a nagging anxiety that he should have been dealing with it earlier. He had a lot of things to think through for himself, properly, before he could share them with anyone else.

Rhodey didn’t ask him to explain that. He just said that he was there if Tony needed him, and that he’d be back again the following day… And Tony didn’t bother to argue. He could tell from the way that Rhodey said it that he’d be coming back anyway.

So, Tony had just waved him off, and finally started to tidy the workshop – purely for the sake of something to do with his hands while his mind ran away from him.

A good fifteen minutes of trying to make a list of his problems. That proved frustrating and fruitless

Another stretch of time trying to pick any one problem to focus on. That was just unnerving.

He didn’t know how long, trying to think of how bad the worst-case scenario could possibly be – and really, what was the point of that?

And then the elevator stirred again.

“J?” He called out, nervously. He really didn’t have the vaguest recollection of JARVIS announcing anyone, this time.

“Sergeant Barnes, sir,” JARVIS explained – and Tony felt his spine jolt up from under him.

Okay, he was absolutely sure he hadn’t told JARVIS to let Bucky in. That he wouldn’t have said to let Bucky in.

There was no way he was ready to deal with that just yet-

“Did you tell me he was at the door?” Tony demanded, his mind already racing ahead to a thousand other things.

“Forgive me, I thought perhaps we were forgoing that formality,” JARVIS answered, coolly.

Which shocked Tony’s mind quiet for a second.

“Did you just sass me?” He gasped, incredulous. Not really because JARVIS had talked back, but because Tony had the sudden idea that his AI had just set him up-

The elevator doors slid open before he could yell anything obscene about it.

“Hey,” he squeaked, sounding every bit as taken aback as he was. “Are you okay? Is Steve not with you?”

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay,” Bucky smiled, a little self-consciously. Almost shy. “And no, Steve isn’t here. Steve is at home, waiting to murder me when he finds out I came here.”

And there was a stab of pure panic right in the centre of Tony’s chest, as his brain leapt to a single conclusion-

He was about to get the shovel talk.

Tony had no idea how to deal with that – how he even felt about being on the receiving end of it. And he didn’t bother trying to work it out. Suddenly all of his thoughts, however frantic and irrational, were finally focused on one topic: how the hell to get out of this, as painlessly as possible.

“Why would Steve murder you for coming here?” Tony asked, his voice unnaturally level.

And Bucky pinched back a little smile, and shook his head, you know what, just ignore that.

And then he started again.

“So, Steve tells me you’re a vampire,” Bucky said, simply. “And he didn’t really go into a lot of detail – in fairness, I didn’t ask a lot of questions. Only if he was sure I didn’t hurt you, and he said he was. That’s right, yeah?”

Tony wanted to smile at that. He felt like Bucky deserved a smile for that… But he couldn’t manage it. So, instead, he just nodded,

“Yeah, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Well, I’m still sorry…” Bucky sighed. And then, before Tony could contradict him, he went on, “That’s not why I’m here, though.”

“…So why are you here?” Tony wished that hadn’t sounded quite so defensive… But Bucky didn’t seem to take it that way. He just smiled again.

“The thing is… I’m not going to tell you we’re the same in any way,” Bucky said. “I mean, how the hell do I know if that’s true, right? I feel like it sometimes – I should probably tell you that. Even before last night, sometimes I’d feel like maybe you got it somehow. But who am I to guess why that might be…”

Tony felt his panic grind to a halt, a wordless confusion fizzing up in its place.

…this is not the shovel talk.

…I have no idea what the fuck this is.

“So, I dunno… maybe what I’m about to say won’t mean anything to you,” Bucky shrugged – somehow not coming over quite as casual as he should be… “Maybe it doesn’t apply to… whatever being a vampire is really all about. Which is probably a lot different to being… whatever the hell I am… But.”

And then he took a brave little breath, and looked Tony right in the eye, and told him.

“You have to let people help you.”

Oh – it’s this conversation.

Oh, this was almost a comfort, now that Tony had worked it out. Afterall, he knew how to handle this little lecture. He’d had twenty years of this from Rhodey and Pepper, from every conceivable angle. He knew how to politely fob this one off-

“And I don’t mean for you,” Bucky explained. “I mean for them.”

…Okay, that was a bit of a curve ball.

“For them?” Tony repeated, frowning.

“For them,” Bucky clarified, with another smile. “And… you know how you don’t let people help you, because you don’t want them to get hurt? Or, you don’t want them to get mixed up in things, or you don’t want to see them try and fail…”

And Tony knew he should be trying to get out of this conversation. He knew this was the place to nod, and thank Bucky for the advice, and politely show him to the door…

But.

Tony could now add this to the growing list of life changing experiences. Talking to someone about the strangest parts of his life and feeling like they not only understood – but they’d actually been there themselves. Being able to find that common ground. Not having to hide his own side of it.

It was a human impulse, as mindless and reckless and against the rules as anything he’d done in the last twenty four hours… But…

“Yeah,” Tony whispered.

“Because you feel like that’s the best way to protect them? Keeping them out of it?” Bucky added, a bit more enthusiastically. And this time Tony could only nod. “Well, I can only tell you what I wish I’d known, way back at the beginning of this – you only hurt people more by trying to cut them out.”

Tony sighed, heavily. Already dreading the tedious reasoning he’d have to go through, to make Bucky see the real risks of letting people get too close… But not in the same way he usually did. It didn’t seem quite as… inevitable, as it usually did. It felt more like the start of a conversation than the delivery of a statement

…which was better.

“Rather depends on the risk they’re taking though, doesn’t it?” He began wearily. Thinking of how to explain the realities of being immortal without falling down a rabbit hole with it-

“Not really,” Bucky answered, with a confident shake of his head. And then, when Tony paused, baffled, he clarified, “it’s not even about that.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, it’s… Look, the thing is – by the time someone cares about you, the deal is done. They’re invested, then. They’re going to get hurt when you get hurt, no matter how far away from it you try to keep them. They’re going to get hurt when you push them away, just as much as if anything actually happened to them. And they’re going to stick their oar in, if they think someone’s messing with you, whatever you say… Well, some people, at least…” And he held Tony’s eye for a second, just to remove any shred of doubt that they were talking about Steve. “So, the thing is, it really doesn’t matter if you’re right, and they’re going to be at all sorts of risks because of you – they already are. The only question is whether you can make it any easier on them. If that’s what you’re really thinking of doing, when you push them away…”

“And how do you make it easier on them, then?” Tony asked, very quietly.

“Well, like I say, this is just the benefit of my own fucked up life experience… But people need to feel like they’re doing something. That’s what stops them feeling helpless. That’s what stops them sitting up all night thinking about it. That’s what saves them from torturing themselves when something does happen to you – because then they can at least tell themselves they did what they could.”

Tony stopped, and really thought about it. He wondered whether there really was a bright, hopeful spark of truth to that… or if he just really wanted there to be.

“Look, Bucky… It really isn’t as simple as that,” he sighed, dropping his shoulders. “I mean… my life isn’t exactly something another person could… fit into…”

Bucky waited half a minute after Tony trailed off, making sure he really didn’t have anything more to say. And then he just went on, casually,

“Well, maybe that’s true. Like I say, I don’t know anything about your life. And it’s not my business – we don’t have to talk about anything like that, unless you want to…” And again, a little pause, just to make sure… But Tony shook his head. “But you don’t have to share everything with a person to let them do one thing to help you. You don’t have to let them into everything, and you don’t have to agree to every idea they come up with, and you don’t have to believe that they can really fix anything… But you have to let them try. Something. Believe me, that’ll be the thing they hold on to, if everything you’re scared of actually happens. It’ll be the thing that saves them, whatever they end up losing.”

“Okay…” Tony heard himself answer, very softly. And then there was a moment of thick silence… not uncomfortable exactly, but very there. At last, Bucky glanced away, a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

“I should get back and get murdered,” he said, brightly – and Tony did manage a smile for that.

“Well, if you don’t show up for your next appointment-”

“You’ll give him an alibi, right?” Bucky finished for him. Tony pinched back a smile, and looked at the floor.

“To be honest… Yeah.”

“Good,” Bucky smiled, like he meant it, and made to walk to the elevator again. “See you Tuesday?”

“Yeah, see you Tuesday,” Tony answered on autopilot, watching quietly as the doors slid shut behind him.

He took a second, waiting for the room to settle back into the familiar. Feeling like that whole exchange had been very surreal… like he wasn’t completely confident it had really happened.

“Hey JARVIS?” He called, casually, his eyes still fixed on the elevator.

“Yes, sir?”

“We have not foregone any formalities, I do want to be informed before you let anyone into the house – and I have plenty of people to try and make friends for me, thanks. Don’t think I don’t know what you just did.”

“Duly noted, sir,” JARVIS answered.

Tony could swear he sounded smug.

Chapter Text

When they got to the front door of Tony’s mansion, Steve was having to clench his fists to keep his hands from shaking. He didn’t think he’d ever been this nervous.

This was fundamentally different to the sort of fear that he could step away from, out on the battlefield. More real than even the panic that’d gripped him as he crashed that plane… Maybe it was simply that he’d known he couldn’t survive that one.

But, tonight, Steve was filled with such a dreadful, painful hope. Knowing how unlikely this was to work, and how very much he wanted this to work…

That it just might work-

“Are you still mad at me?” Bucky asked, casually, as they waited for the gentle click of JARVIS unlocking the entrance.

“No,” Steve sighed, automatically. And then he thought about what Bucky meant, and he corrected himself sharply. “No, wait – yes. Yes, I am.”

“I said I was sorry,” Bucky groaned – and then he corrected himself in the exact tone Steve had just used, “Wait, no I didn’t. I’m not sorry.”

Steve turned to say something, but the door unlatched before he could think what it was. So, he settled for throwing Bucky a poisonous glare, and resolved to put the whole thing out of his mind.

He was still pissed that Bucky had gone to see Tony without him… although, if he was being fair, it probably wasn’t that he was annoyed at Bucky, per se. Steve knew he didn’t really have any right to tell Bucky who he could talk to, or what he could say. He even knew he’d been a bit over the top when Bucky first told him – but of course, he wasn’t going to admit that. He was still too uncomfortable about the whole damn thing.

Bucky swore that he hadn’t gone there to talk about Steve. That he ‘hadn’t even mentioned Steve’s name’. But Steve knew, immediately, that was total bullshit – Bucky just looked too damn sheepish about it. And the very fact that he was pretending it wasn’t about Steve made it infuriatingly difficult to figure out exactly what Bucky had said about him, through subtext or eye contact or whatever else.

Steve knew he should’ve spent more time interrogating Bucky over it. That he should have made more effort to prise from him the actual words, the real meaning – the response from Tony. Instead of which, he’d settled for telling Bucky that he really wished he hadn’t done that… perhaps a little more forcefully than strictly necessary… Because, by then, Steve had come up with a plan. As a matter of fact, by the time Bucky dropped that bombshell, Steve was entirely preoccupied with his plan, and simply couldn’t muster up the mental energy to worry about anything else.

Which was the only reason he was able to forget about Bucky’s little intervention now. By the time he and Bucky stepped into the elevator, Steve was once again entirely preoccupied with his own nervousness. Rehearsing everything he was going to say, planning for every response Tony could possibly give, trying to think what he’d do if it all went horribly wrong…

Trying not to daydream about it going right.

Not an efficient use of time.

And then the elevator doors slid open, and there was Tony.

All that noise in Steve’s head faded to nothing, immediately. His initial reaction was a purely physical one; a sudden clenching in his chest, a weakness in his joints, a high, fluttering sensation, somewhere in the middle of him.

Tony was beautiful.

And Steve wanted him.

And Steve loved him.

And all at once Steve could feel that bodily terror of losing him – or, worse still, hurting him. That visceral fear of fucking this up.

And that was before any of the other, day-to-day anxieties fully hit him. Steve had only just realised that they’d not even talked about… what happened, yet-

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Tony asked, brightly – looking at Bucky.

“I am feeling great,” Bucky announced proudly, holding his arm out and looking at it reverently. “You know, this week was probably the first time ever that I haven’t thought about how this fucking thing works?”

Steve felt a little curling of guilt, low in his gut. He thought back to the night before, to Bucky saying that his arm felt entirely different since that final procedure. The little hint of excitement as he tried to explain what he meant, the way he’d flexed his fingers as he tried to find the words. In the end, he’d settled for ‘normal’.

Bucky had been so endearingly pleased to just feel normal.

Steve would’ve liked to have been in that moment with him. After all those years of torture and pain, all those months of anxiety and uncertainty, it seemed like they’d finally achieved what they’d set out to do… But Steve was just too consumed by the next crisis to celebrate the end of the last one. He was pleased for Bucky, he did share that excitement… or he would, when he had time for it. For now, he could only hope he’d managed to at least look as though he was listening – and promise to feel appropriately bad, and make sufficient amends, just as soon as he was able.

Which wasn’t now. That little pang of shame was quickly overwhelmed by all of his previous anxieties, which were now moving even faster and louder and more frantically, after that brief reprieve-

“Good,” Tony grinned, with a mix of happiness and pride.

“So, now what?” Bucky asked cheerfully – and Steve was forced to swallow a sudden, bitter taste. Steve hated that question. He’d been running from that question for weeks, and fighting with that question for days, and even now that he hoped he had his own answer to it, still, it made him flinch.

“Well, we have a huge raft of tests to run today,” Tony sighed, waving a hologram into life. “A couple of scans, a bit of bloodwork, a few basic reaction tests – I’ll have to put you out again, for about fifteen minutes or so, just to test your resting and subconscious responses. And then it depends what the results are. It might be that there’s still some minor tweaking to do… but I’m hoping that we fixed it all last time. If that’s the case, then… I guess you should probably schedule a check up or something, in like a month, just to be sure…” he seemed to trail off into his head for a few seconds, and then he snapped himself out of it. “Right, shall we get you stabbed with some needles then?”

“Yay, needles,” Bucky laughed, already walking over to his familiar place on the examination table.

And then Tony glanced up, and caught Steve’s eye for the first time.

It was like Steve’s whole body was tugged sharply towards him. All of a sudden, Tony was so much more than a beautiful man. He was the physical embodiment of everything Steve loved so much about him; all that intelligence and bravery and kindness, made real. The urge to reach out to him was dizzying. To be able to grab hold of that dazzling, different quality in Tony, to take all of his adoration and affection and put it into that embrace, just to feel the shape of Tony against his chest…

A sudden, vivid memory of holding Tony like that, skin to skin…

Oh God, if this doesn’t work-

“Hey,” Tony smiled, his eyes soft and dark. Steve let it wash through him like warm water, before he answered, quietly,

“Hey.”

He felt the air between them crackle, a sudden static sensation all over his skin. Then he saw Tony glance at Bucky, a flicker of thought behind his eyes before he looked back at Steve, apologetically. But Steve just nodded – he understood.

He had things he couldn’t say in front of other people, too.

But, as luck would have it, Tony had provided him with an opportunity. ‘Fifteen minutes or so’ in which Bucky would be asleep, and JARVIS would be doing all the work. Steve wouldn’t need as long as that. As huge as this was, and as much as there was riding on it, it would still only take a moment to say.

Which seemed weird, but there it was.

So, Steve did his best to swallow his heartbeat, and watched Tony walk over to begin his work-

Praying to God that it wasn’t the very last time.

*

This was the first time – possibly in his entire life – that Tony had so much difficulty concentrating on his work.

He liked to think that if he’d been doing something risky, he would have been able to pay attention… But these simple, perfunctory tasks weren’t nearly enough to distract him from the chaos in his head. He kept finding himself staring at a string of numbers with no idea what he was looking at, or poised to make a note with absolutely no recollection of what it was. Even keeping up a basic conversation with Bucky proved a challenge. Everything Bucky said interrupted a lively and disjointed train of thought in Tony’s head, snapping him back to a world that made no sense…

It would’ve been frustrating, if Tony had the space to feel anything other than nervous.

He really thought he’d managed to get the tangled web of worries into some sort of order, before Steve and Bucky arrived. Tony knew there were still a hundred questions he hadn’t answered, maybe a thousand things he still had to give some serious consideration… But he’d thought he’d at least reached a conclusion. He’d thought that he’d at least settled on a list of priorities, and an overall shape to the plan…

But then there was Steve. Soft and strong and safe, and right there, where Tony could so easily have reached out to him…

The most confusing thing about it was the sudden sense of clarity. The way everything just seemed to make sense, when Steve was actually there.

If I just put my arms around him right now, he’d let me

If I had Steve, nothing else would matter

Of course it would be okay, it is okay-

And Tony knew that he shouldn’t think that way. That he’d had spent three whole days working out why he couldn’t think that way… But as soon as he saw Steve, all that carefully constructed context just fell apart. It was like waking up in the middle of a dream, unable to remember the logic of it.  

If Tony had been forced to choose in that moment, he’d have picked wrong. He’d have gone with that instinct – because, for a good few minutes, there was nothing else. Just that feeling of total certainty, and nothing whatsoever to contradict it…

But, luckily… no, it was ‘lucky’, even if it didn’t feel that way… luckily, he didn’t have the chance to talk to Steve just then. Whatever else he was confused about, it was obvious that they couldn’t have this conversation with Bucky waiting awkwardly on the side-lines. So, Tony had done his best to get on with the task in hand, all the while trying frantically to remember what his original plan had been – trying to convince himself that he’d been on the right track with it, before this entirely irrational, purely emotional response had thrown him for a loop.

He had to bring this whole arrangement with Steve and Bucky to an end – today.

That was the key point, the basis for everything else. The one thing that had felt right, when it first occurred to him.

He still didn’t know whether he really had to walk away from Steve forever.

He still had no idea what he and Steve could possibly have, if he didn’t.

Tony didn’t know how he could carry on, if he did…

But the one thing that had seemed sensible, and bearable, was ending this professional obligation. Saying it was over for now. It was the one option that soothed both his fear of losing Steve and his fear of going ahead with it – a way of walking away without it hurting too much, or a way to keep that option open in his head… He didn’t even have to work out which it was, just yet. If he told himself it wasn’t that monumental decision, maybe he could make it.

He’d even convinced himself that it was objectively healthy. Making it so that he could walk away, without condemning both Steve and Bucky to a lifetime of danger and anxiety. Maybe making it so that he and Steve could talk, one day, without either of them having to consider the future working relationship, or the knock-on effects for anyone else…

If Tony could just bring himself to shake Bucky’s hand, and declare the project a success, and make it clear than neither of them ever had to come back again…

Maybe then Tony would have the space to think about it properly. Consider what he actually wanted, and what might really be possible, without all those other responsibilities to complicate things.

Maybe he would have the space to see that the whole thing was a disaster, an impossibility – that he’d seriously dodged a bullet by getting out when he did.

...Or, maybe, there could be something else, after all this-

And, yes, there was still that dark voice in his head. The one that whispered that everything had changed, that there were new and more terrible anxieties to concern himself with, that it wasn’t about his trivial worries of being made vulnerable or getting his friends hurt. Not anymore. A creeping, cold feeling, somewhere under his skin, trying to warn him that he had to run from this – a feeling of reckoning, brewing somewhere over the horizon…

You want to bite him, though.

But maybe he could put that off, for the time being. Maybe he could turn this into a decision that needn’t take any of that into account.

Because, really, one week just wasn’t enough time to rethink all of his priorities, all of his memories, his entire sense of self. It wasn’t long enough to make a decision this big. Tony couldn’t commit to walking away from this, or to not walking away from this, with all these confused ideas swirling in his head. He wouldn’t be truly free to think about any of it, until he could stop thinking about the next time he saw Steve.

But he could finish an engineering project, he knew that much.

He could wish Steve and Bucky luck, and let them walk away with no plans to return

…He could call Steve sometime, in the future, if it turned out that-

“So… Now what?” Bucky asked cautiously, snapping Tony out of his daydreams. Tony felt a phantom blush of embarrassment, as he realised that he had no idea how long he’d been lost in the middle distance.

“Oh, right, okay… Now…” And he really had to search for an answer to that question – to remember what they were even doing in the first place. “Okay, probably time for the resting reaction tests…”

Oh.

Oh, that meant it was time to be alone with Steve, didn’t it?

Time to tell him goodbye…

God, that had seemed such a good idea a few hours ago. Now it made Tony’s whole being seize in terror, like some primal part of him was warning him, no. And the more cerebral part of him tried its best to counsel him,

It might not be forever

It might be for the best, if it is

It’s either that or tell him something else, and you know you’re not ready for that-

But Jesus, all Tony wanted to do was throw his arms around Steve’s waist and bury his head in Steve’s neck and tell him every fear and frustration he had in his head… He felt like Steve would make it all better.

“So, yeah, you ready?” Tony muttered, glancing over to his equipment and then back to Bucky. And Bucky just grinned, and put his feet up on the examination table, and stretched out.

“Ready,” he smiled nonchalantly, resting his head on his interlocked hands. And, in spite of everything, Tony managed to smile back – that just seemed very Bucky.

“Okay, give me two minutes to start the programme…” Tony had to force the words over the growing pressure in his chest, already thinking ahead to what he was going to say to Steve. Trying not to think about saying something else instead. “Then we’ll administer the sedative, and that should work pretty much immediately…”

“‘Kay,” Bucky agreed, letting his eyes slip shut.

Tony warned himself not to look at Steve, and did it anyway.

He told himself not to think about that night – and did it anyway.

And then Steve caught his eye, and blushed… And Tony just knew that Steve was thinking about it too.

Tony told himself that wasn’t a good thing… and felt good about it anyway.

“You are feeling sleepy, very sleepy…” Tony joked, mindlessly, after he finally injected the anaesthetic. Mocking the stereotypical hypnotists from every Bugs Bunny cartoon. Bucky snorted a laugh, but already it sounded heavy and distracted, as he fell softly into sleep. Tony let his eyes rest on Bucky for a few moments more than necessary. Gearing himself up for what had to happen. Practicing his dialogue one last time.

I’m glad I could help.

I’m glad all this happened.

Good luck, I’ll think of you, I hope it all works out…

It’s not anything you did, I just need to think about everything.

… He could swear it didn’t all sound so awkward and tacky, when he was thinking about it yesterday.

And then he looked up at Steve again, and it just overwhelmed him.

I don’t care if I do lose everything.

I don’t care who comes for me, or what they say.

I don’t care what it looks like, I just want to be with you-

…And Rhodey?

…And Pepper?

…Oh yeah. This wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t only his life he had to think about.

And when you change one day, and bite him-

He couldn’t have this.

Ever.

Tony ignored that final, spiteful whisper and recommitted himself to his original plan. Reminding himself that it wasn’t about forever, it was about right now. Telling himself that this was undeniably for the best, right now.

He did one final check of his monitor, almost wishing he’d find some anomaly to investigate… But no. All scans running as they should be, all results as expected. And, of course, that meant that this was now the time. The few moments he’d have alone with Steve, before…

Well, before that chance had passed.

So.

“I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” Tony began, attempting a light tone of voice. Steve blinked in confusion, and Tony rushed to explain, “Bucky seemed to think you were going to murder him, the last time he was here...”

Steve huffed an embarrassed laugh, blushing deeper.

“Yeah, I was tempted,” he muttered, self-consciously. “But, you know, what with all the time and effort you just put into fixing his arm, it seemed kinda rude to tear it off and beat him to death with it.”

A genuine giggle managed to crack through the tightness in Tony’s ribs. It helped, a little.

“Thank you, for… everything you’ve done for him,” Steve carried on, “You don’t even know… just how much all of this means…”

“I’m glad I could help,” Tony told him, sincerely.

And then there was a pregnant pause, as Tony willed himself to push ahead with it. Trying to think of something he could add that would sound final, some way to ease them towards that conclusion. Dismissing all the options, because none of them sounded right…

Because he didn’t want to say it really.

“You like helping,” Steve said, eventually. Tony couldn’t quite tell whether it was a question or not.

“Some people,” he answered, with an unsure smile. There was a little prickle of anticipation over his skin, some instinctive warning that something was about to happen… But Tony wasn’t sure what exactly he’d picked up on…

“Not just some people. You help lots of people,” Steve corrected… nervously. “And it just… makes me think…” And then he took a little breath – which Tony found unbearably endearing – and added, more firmly, “I should be doing more, maybe.”

“…Like what?” Tony frowned.

“Well… you know you said that there are all these sick kids that need blood, but not enough people donate it?”

“Yeah?” Tony clarified, his muscles tensing up entirely of their own accord. Something about this was very wrong…

“Well, I’d actually thought about that before. I mean, I assumed I’d be a great candidate for that - you know, I can lose up to three litres of blood before I even have to worry? And make it back twice as fast as anyone else,” Steve was speaking too quickly, like he was worried he was running out of time… “And, you’d think that my blood would be really good, for transfusions and stuff, seeing as it’s perfectly healthy and all – but Nick seemed to think it was a really bad idea.”

As Steve was talking, Tony could feel his stomach turning to slime. That physical discomfort grew with every word, closing all around him, like it was crushing him.

He couldn’t think about Steve and… blood, he couldn’t start thinking about Steve’s blood, not like this-

He didn’t dare think about what Steve was leading up to – even though, clearly, some part of him had already worked it out-

“Apparently my blood is a national secret,” Steve rushed on. “And I can’t go giving batches away at community blood drives, and I don’t even know the effect it might have on someone else, blah, blah, blah… Do you think that’s even true?”

“What?” Tony replied automatically, his ears still ringing in panic.

“That the serum would make my blood dangerous for a regular person?”

“Er, well, I mean…I don’t…”

“It always sounded kind of fake to me. I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust Nick – I know he’s on my side, and no one’s ever going to be able to buy him, or blackmail him or whatever. It’s just that I don’t always trust what he’s telling me? He does this thing, where he only tells you what he thinks it’s best for you to know…” And then Steve shook his head sharply, like he was telling himself off, and seemed to focus. “But my point is, I feel like I can’t take the risk. And, I dunno, that seemed like kind of a shame at the time… But I just keep thinking about it, now.”

“You feel bad because you can’t donate blood?” Tony enunciated, not sure himself what tone he was aiming for. And he saw Steve swallow, and he knew Steve was readying himself for some final jump, and Tony just wanted to stop him – but he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think of any words. He couldn’t even remember the word for no.

“I just want to help,” Steve answered, his voice so sincere and…hopeful. It was unbearable. “And, if I could donate my blood to a hospital, I guess anyone would tell me to do it. Nat and Sam probably do, thousands of ordinary Americans do, and it’s not any great hardship. And it’d be less of a hardship for me, and maybe the blood I could donate would be better… But I can’t use to help like that. So, couldn’t I use it to help you?”

“To help me.” Tony repeated, shocked and scared and mostly just stalling for time.

“Well, from the sounds of it, if I did try to donate my blood to a hospital – like you were saying more people should do – then it’d just end up in the reject batch anyway. Which you seem okay with taking-”

“That’s not…” Tony interrupted for the sake of interrupting – but he couldn’t think how to end the sentence.

“Look, Tony, I know when you see a problem in the world, you want to help. You want to make things better for people – that’s why you take the blood no one else wants. And it just seems like you taking that from other people is… like it doesn’t make any sense. Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but, I mean, the stuff you drink, does it actually keep you healthy?”

And, Jesus, why couldn’t Tony just tell him yes? Why couldn’t he just lie, and say it was fine, and that Steve really didn’t have to do this?

“And I know it makes you miserable, having to drink that stuff,” Steve pushed ahead. “And I get why you do that – but if there’s an alternative right there, and it’s so much better, and it can’t hurt me, and I want to do it, then why wouldn’t you just… think about it?”

It was the pleading tone he’d slipped into right at the end. The way Steve’s eyes widened as that little edge of desperation finally cut through.

And there was the exact same destructive compulsion that had gripped Tony during that very first appointment-

Tony just couldn’t make himself tell Steve no.

But this wasn’t like that first time – this time the answer was no. Tony was sure of that. Every cell in his body instinctively recoiled from this idea, every part of him knew it was wrong. He was terrified to even think about it.

He didn’t want to find a part of him that was okay with this-

“Steve, I…” He whispered, willing something to follow…

I don’t want you to have any part of… that side of me

I don’t know how it would change me… or you

I’m scared to death I’d like it-

Tony couldn’t explain any of that. However far he’d come since last week, however much he trusted Steve, he couldn’t go there. The fears he’d been nursing for the last twenty years had been hard enough to deal with, but these new fears… Tony hadn’t faced those himself yet. Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to face them, ever – he couldn’t bear Steve to know them. He couldn’t stand the thought of Steve trying to argue with them, of having to convince him-

He couldn’t say it, he just couldn’t.

And he still couldn’t force himself to say no.

“It’s not that simple,” he blurted, looking away from Steve. “It’s not just… food, it’s not just about it being… efficient or convenient, or-”

“I’m not saying-”

“No, Steve, I… It’s… a personal thing. It’s an… intimate thing,” and, okay, Tony immediately regretted that choice of word. “It’s… I’m just… I’m not-”

“You’re not comfortable with it,” Steve sighed. Tony felt a plunging guilt when he heard the disappointment in Steve’s voice, an inherent resistance to being the bad guy. He felt an immediate impulse to apologise, for what he didn’t know-

But Steve carried on talking.

“And, you’re right, I don’t really know what I’m talking about, and if I’ve just massively put my foot on it or said something really insensitive, then I’m really, really sorry…”

And Tony could feel it in that pause. That same do-or-die determination that got Captain America through the end of the world so many times. That simple, indomitable willingness to try. Tony knew, however vulnerable Steve felt right now, however genuine his fear of hurting Tony, he was still going to say but. The conversational equivalent of strapping his shield to his arm and running headlong into battle, because he couldn’t bear to do less.

Tony kind of wished he didn’t love Steve so much for that very thing.

He didn’t want to be the thing Steve came up against, he didn’t want to want Steve to lose-

Sometimes you have to let people help you.

Oh, fuck, this was all way too much, and-

“But,” Steve said – in the full-on Captain America voice, by now. “What if this is just a… better idea, that you started off feeling uncomfortable with? I know that… a lot’s happened. And I know there’s a lot I don’t know, and I’m not trying to tell you anything about your life – this is me just saying, about… life. How anyone can be uncomfortable with something, at least at first, and that not necessarily mean… that it isn’t worth thinking about.”

“Steve,” Tony whispered, leaning his weight onto the nearest flat surface. Realising that his legs literally felt weak, that his head was swimming, that Steve’s voice sounded distant and echoey when he called to him,

“Tony-”

“No, Steve, I can’t…” Tony blurted, trying to talk over the growing noise in his head.

He couldn’t think about it.

He understood why Steve would say that, why anyone would think it was harmless to consider a new idea-

How could Tony possibly explain that he was doing everything he could not to think about it anyway? That even thinking about it would change him, would force him to face what he’d become already?

How could he possibly explain that the real problem was that he did want to, and it was-

Oh God, he did want to-

“I can’t think about this,” he snapped, talking to himself as much as Steve…

And then he saw that hurt flash up in Steve’s eyes, and something in Tony felt compelled to add,

“I can’t think about this right now. This is… just… a lot, and I can’t just answer you… right away, like this.”

And Tony was genuinely baffled as to how this many conflicting impulses could exist in him all at once. How he could feel each of them so intensely, and so purely…

He was terrified of what Steve was saying, and desperate to run from it.

He couldn’t bear to hurt Steve, and was immediately prepared to do anything to avoid it.

He wanted to push Steve away, and he wanted to pull Steve into him…

And he wanted Steve’s blood.

Which felt like the most natural thing in the world, and the most perverse thing in the world, all at once.

And then he saw Steve gasp softly, his face softening into such an open, vulnerable hope… It made Tony’s whole body ache. He didn’t know whether he loved or hated that feeling.

“So, don’t think about it right now,” Steve offered, almost eagerly. That tone a kid uses when they think they’re winning the argument, and I promise I’ll feed it and love it and walk it every day…

“I’m sorry, I know you’re just trying to help,”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Steve assured him, “I’m sorry, I know this all came out wrong, I’m… bad at this anyway…”

“No, you aren’t,” Tony breathed, still trying to find his balance.

“…You can call me any time, you know.” Steve told him, softly. “About this, or… anything.”

And Tony vaguely remembered that this was where he’d intended to begin. He was supposed to think about this part… whether they were ever going to see each other again, and why… if he was supposed to say yes, or no, or maybe…

He knew he’d already thought about this.

He knew, just a few moments earlier, it had all seemed to important…

But nothing seemed anything, now.

He was stunned, rather than numb. He definitely felt things, but apparently his brain had short circuited entirely, and couldn’t process any of it. He could only nod, not sure himself whether it meant yes, I know, or yes, I will.

And then Tony felt a horrible, treacherous heat rise up in his chest – oh, God, he really didn’t want to cry right now-

“Sir?” JARVIS interrupted, cautiously.

“Hm?” Tony managed, looking up.

“The initial biological scans have completed, sir,” JARVIS informed him, “If you would like to initiate the neurological scans.”

And Tony very nearly answered him, that should be an automatic process, what are you asking me for?

But then it occurred to him just how glad he was of the excuse to get out of this situation for a moment…

…And that was obviously what JARVIS was asking him for.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” he replied, with a little too much feeling, and all but ran over to bury his face in one of the monitors.

*

Steve had been lying on the couch in the break room for the last two hours, just staring at the ceiling.

The automatic lights had turned themselves off again… Steve didn’t know how long it’d been since he lost patience with waving his arms to wake them up each time. And, anyway, lying here in the shadows seemed more fitting, somehow.

God, he was… miserable. And anxious. And ashamed. And… well, pretty much all the bad feelings.

It’s a personal thing… it’s an intimate thing…

Steve felt his stomach turn over again, that same instinct to claw his own skin off out of sheer embarrassment. He didn’t even know what he’d done… But, Jesus, what if it was something intimate and personal and… creepy?

Another random thought leapt into his head – which had been happening all evening. Right now Steve’s brain was just an endless noise of unrelated, unhelpful ideas, yelling at him ineffectually… This time the memory of a particularly clueless guy he once overheard in a bar, ranting to his friends that ‘he didn’t know why Lola was so upset’. And, because Steve had nothing else to concern himself with back then, he’d listened along with a horrified sort of interest as the guy explained his attempt at a good deed… Which was, as far as Steve could tell, offering to sleep with a gay friend – or her girlfriend, he didn’t have a preference – because they had hit some snag with adopting a kid.

And Steve had been aghast… but also a little smug. Thinking that, however lost he felt in the 21^st Century, at least he wasn’t that fucking ignorant…

Jesus, he hadn’t just done that, had he? Offered up something entirely, offensively inappropriate…

Had Tony just been shocked and insulted and embarrassed on Steve’s behalf, was that what that reaction was?

Oh, what if that’s the last thing I ever say to him…

That thought had cropped up again and again, since he left Tony’s house. Every time Steve considered another way he might’ve just fucked up, it came with that same lament,

If Tony never calls me

If Tony doesn’t answer

If that’s just it now…

…Then it didn’t really matter how much of an ass Steve had just made of himself, did it? The point was that Steve might’ve just said goodbye to Tony for the very last time.

He might never see his face again, or hear that voice…

God, there weren’t even any pictures of him-

And then the breakroom speakers broke into life, immediately blaring a wall of drums and guitars and synth that Steve just registered as a noise. He sat up in alarm, triggering the motion sensor lighting into life, scanning frantically until he saw the outline of Bucky walking through the left-hand door.

“What the hell?” Steve demanded.

“Oh, it’s called emo,” Bucky explained brightly, as strolled over to the easy chair. “Thought I might as well finish setting the mood.”

And just as he said it, the song hit the chorus – someone yelling that they were not okay, over and over. Steve threw Bucky a sharp glare.

“Bit on the nose,” he muttered.

“Brooding in the dark at four in the morning?” Bucky questioned, with faux innocence. Steve sighed grumpily.

“Yeah, okay, you’ve made your point. Please turn it off.”

Bucky shrugged, and pulled his phone out of his pocket, and swiped his finger across the screen. The music cut out to an instant silence, and Steve sighed again – this time out of relief.

“Okay, just tell me this,” Bucky suggested, after a moment. “You know the first time you spoke to Peggy, when you came out with that stuff out about not expecting a beautiful dame to join the army or whatever – was it worse than that?” And Steve groaned, and threw one arm over his face.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Yeesh,” Bucky replied. “Okay, not gonna lie, now I really want to know what you did…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve told him.

“Did he get mad at you?” Bucky pushed on, regardless. And, in spite of everything, Steve found himself answering,

“I don’t even know.”

“So, what, he got mad, but maybe not at you?” Bucky guessed, like he was playing a parlour game.

“He got… something, and I don’t know what it was-” and then he caught himself, sharply, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Bucky offered. Steve glanced over and threw him a smile for that, although it didn’t reach his eyes.

And then his phone rang.

Steve was on his feet in half a second, almost dropping the phone in his haste to answer it.

“Hello?”

“…Hi,” Tony answered, slightly hesitantly. Steve felt his heart stop in his chest, turning to look at Bucky – who was already standing, showing Steve his palms, I’m going, I’m going.

“Hi,” Steve breathed, as Bucky all but ran out of the room.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“God no,” Steve replied, too quickly. “No…I haven’t bothered trying to go to sleep, to be honest.”

“No, me neither,” Tony admitted.

And then there was a pause.

Steve was desperate to fill that gap, desperate to explain himself or make his case again or, just – anything to keep Tony on the phone…

But he’d said too much already, he knew he had.

Even without his fears that he’d put his foot in it or gone too far or said the wrong thing… he knew he’d just said too much. That he’d babbled, and ended up in an agonising and protracted discussion about the nature of blood donation, and whether he trusted Nick-

He’d have liked to have another go at it, really. To say some of the things he’d spent the last two hours wishing he’d said the first time…

But better not to make the same mistake again, eh?

Maybe it was better to let Tony do the talking…

“So, the thing is…” Tony began, eventually. “I don’t really know how any of this works, either.”

“How… any of what… works?” Steve clarified, awkwardly.

“Being a vampire… drinking someone’s blood… All I know about what I am is what Obie told me, and I choose to believe all of that is bullshit, so… I don’t know.”

“But… You do drink people’s blood?” Steve asked, over a rising nervousness.

Was that a stupid question?

Was Steve supposed to know that already?

Had he wildly misinterpreted what Tony had said to him, before?

“Well, yes.” Tony sighed. “But… I don’t know, it’s never just someone’s blood, it’s always a mixture of everything… and I never know that person – and it’s not like I’m ever going to pass anyone in the street, so who knows if… y’know, I’d know, or they’d know…”

“And that… bothers you?”

“I… Don’t really know what bothers me, to be honest,” Tony confessed “I just know that something about this bothers me.”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve whispered, miserably. “I never meant to upset you. I swear, I did try to think-”

“I know,” Tony cut him off… kindly.

Something in the softness of his tone then made Steve pause.

It felt different.

“But what I’m saying is…” Tony tried to start again. “If you’re thinking you stepped out of your lane today… it’s not my lane either. It’s not like you can say the wrong thing to me about being a vampire – because I don’t know what the right thing is either. I don’t really know how any of it works, or what any of it means. So, if you want to ask me whether it’s a good idea, or a dangerous idea, or a… creepy idea, or whatever… You could just as easily ask Bucky. He’d have about as much basis for an opinion on it as I would.”

“But… I mean, only you can say how you feel about it…” Steve prompted – trying not to get his hopes up.

“Ha. Well. I’m not really any great expert on what I’m feeling, either,” Tony muttered. And then, more firmly, added, “And anyway, you might be right that… well, me feeling good or bad about something isn’t really any indicator that it’s good or bad…”

Steve literally held his breath, as he frantically flicked through all the potential responses to that…

So, you think maybe…?

“So, I guess my first question is… What makes you so sure this isn’t a bad idea?” Tony asked him.

And, okay, that threw Steve a bit – but he was on a mission now, and determined to do his very best to meet every individual challenge.

“I guess… I just couldn’t think of a reason it wasn’t?” He offered, nervously. “I mean, I did try to think of why it might be a bad idea… But, I don’t know, I figured if someone was donating their blood… Could it really be so much worse if it was me rather than someone else?”

Oh dear.

He really hoped that strange, very specific jealousy hadn’t bled through there…

Steve was doing his best to ignore that.

“And, uh, I don’t know,” he forced himself on – mainly trying to push past his own uneasiness. “I kind of have a checklist, I guess… But I couldn’t think of a reason it could kill either of us, or hurt either of us, or put anyone else at risk, or upset the global political balance in anyway… And I couldn’t see any reason we couldn’t just stop, if it turned out to be a bad idea – or why that would be worse than just not doing it in the first place… So, that’s kind of my list?”

And then he heard Tony huff out a little sigh…

“Okay, so I have one more question…” he said, carefully. “And it’s just really important to me that you tell the truth. That’s… really more important than whatever the answer turns out to be, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve promised.

“…You know, you said you, uh… liked me, the first time you saw me?”

“Yeah?”

“…Why?”

“You really don’t see why someone would like you?” Steve asked, sadly – but Tony was quick to correct him.

“I don’t mean that. I mean… anything you like about me, you couldn’t have known then, right? You didn’t have any reason to like me or not like me, when you first saw me. So, I just mean… was that literally true? And, I mean, thinking it about it now… I don’t know, does it seem… weird, to you?”

And Steve knew that question should panic him, for all sorts of reasons.

He was scared to death of telling Tony how he really felt anyway – scared of the potential rejection, scared of screwing it up, scared of losing what little they had already.

He was confused and conflicted as to how it might affect the offer he was making. Not sure if he should tell Tony he loved him, whether that was fair or unfair… whether it made it more or less likely that Tony would say yes.

If it had been up to Steve how to respond, he would probably have had an anxiety attack. Stuttered and babbled and said all the wrong things – probably far too many of them.

But Tony had sort of given him an out. He’d made Steve promise to be honest.

So, the only way Steve could play this now was to do exactly that, and hope to God that it was the ‘right’ answer.

“Okay, um, honestly… I don’t know if I did ‘like’ you, the first time I saw you,” Steve told him, through gritted teeth. “I mean, I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life – and maybe fixated on that a little bit, I guess. Mainly, just… I am pretty sexually frustrated, I don’t know if you could tell-”

Tony barked a surprised laugh at that, which Steve chose to take as a good sign.

“But, actually, I remember the first time I realised that I liked you, it was when you didn’t make a big deal about Bucky not wanting pain killers,” he carried on carefully, like a man walking a tightrope. “So, I mean, I don’t really know what’s weird or what isn’t, but, from my point of view… I met someone, I thought they were attractive, turned out I liked them. I mean…”

Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work?  

“Would you be making this offer, if we’d never had sex?” Tony asked, somewhat abruptly. And Steve’s only reaction to that was, oh, thank God, an easy question.

“Of course.”

“This has nothing to do with…that?”

“Well, I mean, I’m doing this because I like you, and I did… that, because I like you,” Steve explained, “So, I guess, in that respect… But I’d like you either way, and I’d want to do either of those things, either way…”

Talking too much again…

Steve forced himself to stop, and held his breath. And then, after what seemed like such a long time, Tony finally spoke.

“Okay.”

“…Okay?” Steve repeated, in a very level voice. Please say you mean-

“If we try this… We can try this, once, just to see… But you’ll have to donate that blood on your own time, and bring it. I can’t… take your blood-”

“Fine,” Steve agreed, far too eagerly. “We have a med lab here, I can arrange that, easy.”

“And if I tell you this isn’t working out, you’re just going to have to take my word for it,” Tony added, more sternly. “If it turns out that this just… doesn’t work, and I can’t explain it-”

“No, obviously – I wouldn’t make you explain anyway, you know that.”

“And you can’t mention this to anyone, not even the tech taking your blood. They can’t know what it’s for.”

“No, obviously. I wouldn’t.” Steve promised faithfully.

“And… At least the first time, you’ll have to bring it yourself.” Tony finished, almost reluctantly.

Steve almost bit his own tongue off in a rush to agree.

“Fine, of course, just name the time.”

“Well, uh, maybe you should call me, when… it’s done” Tony suggested, stiffly.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve nodded, grinning broadly by now. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

He swore he could hear Tony smile at that.

“Okay, well, I should probably let you try to get some sleep,” Tony tried to joke. “You humans with your daylight hours and all.”

“Yeah, I probably should…” Steve agreed – already knowing there was literally no chance of that. Actually, he was just trying to get out of this phone call before he blew it. “But, I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony breathed. And then, after the slightest little pause he added, “Thank you.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” Steve assured him. “I’m happy to help.”

And Jesus, he’d never been this happy to help in his life.

Chapter Text

Of course, Steve knew how to draw his own blood.

He’d collected two and a half pints within an hour of Tony’s call, telling himself it was because the med lab was likely to be deserted at this time of the morning…

Not even realising that it was because he just couldn’t wait.

Not thinking anything of this sudden rush of excitement, the thrilled racing of his heart, this uncontrollable grin. Just being happy that Tony had said yes, feeling giddy at the thought of actually getting to do this… accepting this reaction, as if it was the most normal thing in the world…

Until he was watching the blood drain from his arm.

Up until that point, Steve was sure his motivations had been… well, mostly rational. He didn’t deny that he’d desperately wanted any excuse to see Tony again, and obviously his desire to help him was at least partly emotional… But Steve was sure that he’d spent the last few days thinking about the objective benefits and the logical arguments, exactly as he’d explained them to Tony.

Okay, maybe there had been that little splinter of hard-to-explain jealousy… but he’d been ignoring that.

And, as such, it came as of something of a surprise to recognise that he was already gripped by this entirely illogical, purely physical thrill… thinking of the blood draining from his body…

For Tony.

He tried ignoring that too, at first. Instinctively, it felt like something he shouldn’t be thinking about…

Tony wouldn’t like it.

Which was enough to put Steve off for maybe half a minute. But that feeling was just too intense, too all-consuming, for him to deny for long. He became uncomfortably aware of how much he liked this idea, how much he wanted to think about it… the fact that it turned him on.

And he knew that was wrong.

Immediately, he understood how uncomfortable it would make Tony – that Tony hated vampire fetishists, that he didn’t want to make this an ‘intimate thing’, that he’d hate to think of Steve sexualising it like this…

But none of that stopped the heat pulsing under Steve’s skin. If anything, it all just melted into one giddy, queasy sensation. Shame and desire, confusion and clarity…

Steve hadn’t been expecting any of this.

He’d been so certain of this plan. It was the first thing he’d been truly sure of since he came out of the ice. He’d just felt like he understood it, like it all fell into place and made such perfect sense – that there wasn’t anything he could possibly be caught out by.

And now there was this…

And Steve knew this meant he should stop, at least for a moment. That was a basic mission protocol, hardwired since his army days – if something doesn’t feel right, you have to check it out. If you have the opportunity to pause and reassess the situation, you should. That’s how you avoid ambushes and traps and moments of madness…

But I don’t want to avoid this moment of madness.

He’d try to deny that later. He’d reword it and downplay it and try to bury it with other, more acceptable reasoning… But the fact was, in the moment, Steve’s first instinct was not to think about it-

Because he didn’t want to change his mind.

He’d liked feeling sure of this plan – he’d liked how he felt, when he was succeeding in something that he knew was good.

…And maybe he liked this plan even more now.

…Maybe he was even more scared of having to talk himself out of it.

…And, anyway, he really shouldn’t think about it-

That was another way to look at it, right? That, actually, indulging this sudden, irrational, out of character impulse was likely to cause more problems…

And Steve genuinely did feel like, if he started to think about it… he might end up thinking all sorts of things…

That was what Tony wouldn’t like, right? For Steve to sit here and think about…Tony biting him…

No, that was definitely off limits.

So… He was just going to carry on with this...

…Right?

That was what he’d decided before this strange emotional interlude – that was what his rational brain had thought best, and it was always best to go with that…

And not think about… intimate, personal things… in that way… at all.

By that time the fifth bag was almost full, and Steve decided it was probably best to stop there.

He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded…

*

Tony might’ve still been staring at his phone, the whole time Steve was in the med lab.

He knew he’d just glared at it for what seemed like hours after Steve finally hung up – for long enough that his arm actually ached, when he finally got to moving it.

And yet, he was still stunned.

The enormity of what had just happened – what he’d just fucking done – simply would not fit in his head. This was going to be so bad, when he finally worked out how to process ‘bad’ on that sort of scale-

He’d called Steve to say no. He really had. Or… at least to put Steve off. Tony could swear he’d had a plan, and everything…

He’d tried to explain that Steve hadn’t done anything wrong in offering… trying to make himself feel better by making Steve feel better. Thinking of how much it would hurt him to have to tell Steve no, putting as many caveats and concessions in as he could think of.

Don’t feel ignorant, I’m not an expert either.

Don’t feel rejected, this isn’t about how I feel.

Don’t think you upset me – I don’t even know what upset me.

It had all sounded so measured and final when he was practising beforehand… and then it had come out hesitant and unsure and questioning. Tony could hear the little lift of hope in Steve’s voice – the exact thing he’d been hoping to avoid… And Tony could hardly blame him. He was talking as though the answer might be yes…

And he could swear it still wasn’t, then.

That he was still struggling desperately towards that no, that he was allowing no other arguments-

He had pushed ahead with the plan.

He’d asked why Steve was so sure about it, thinking that maybe it would become clear that Steve hadn’t thought it all the way through… although, to be honest, Tony had never banked on that. He was expecting Steve to have run through a checklist; he was even prepared for the swell of affection that rose up in him when Steve said it.

…He’d been a little bit thrown when Steve asked, why someone else’s blood, and not mine?

…Just by how deeply he’d felt that particular point, how-

But no – there was no need to spiral into hours of analysis of that one throwaway comment. That wasn’t what had derailed Tony’s entire plan.

It was the next question.

And, Jesus, Tony really thought he’d considered every answer Steve could possibly give – every reason Steve could possibly have for thinking he liked Tony.

Because Tony had been so sure that Steve didn’t really like him, that Steve’s feelings and actions and reactions had to be about more than him – and that proving that fact would change everything.

And it wasn’t that he thought Steve disliked him, and it wasn’t that Tony thought Steve was lying, and it wasn’t even that Tony thought he was fundamentally unloveable – it wasn’t about any of that.

It was simply that… It made no sense for Steve to like him as much as that. It was one thing to think that Steve wanted him, that he really wasn’t disgusted by him, that Steve might even have developed a crush on him… and, to be honest, all of that was overwhelming enough.

But that was still a long way short of being that desperate to help him… a long way away from offering up his own blood. Tony couldn’t think of a rational reason why anyone would want to do that for him. And Steve barely knew him. And what he had seen wasn’t exactly reassuring, and… well, Steve could do a lot better.

So, Tony had taken for granted that whatever had possessed Steve, it wasn’t real.

And that in itself meant it was dangerous and wrong to act on it.

And, surely, if Tony could find a way to explain that to Steve, if he could figure out what this was really about…

And he’d thought of so many things it might really be about.

That, yeah, maybe Steve liked him well enough – and maybe that was enough for someone like Steve to take an interest, to want to help… to maybe get a bit too invested. And, if that was the case, maybe Tony could’ve made him see that he’d gotten carried away, that he’d offered too much of himself – that he couldn’t commit to helping every nice-enough stranger like this, and that was okay.

Or, maybe Steve really thought he was telling the truth – maybe Steve really did feel an overwhelming, entirely irrational draw toward Tony… In which case, there was clearly something very creepy going on. And that would’ve meant Steve provably wasn’t in his right mind, and couldn’t make a decision like this, and Tony would’ve just had to make him understand…

Or, maybe, Steve’s passionate outburst had been about something else entirely. Maybe Steve had developed a crush on the idea of Tony, out of his own loneliness. Maybe he’d mistaken a sense of gratitude and relief over Bucky with a genuine affection. Maybe he was just attracted to Tony, or that sexually frustrated – maybe he was confusing lust with something more meaningful…

Maybe Steve was excited or intrigued by the vampire thing, and didn’t even know it.

Maybe Steve had just felt so sorry for Tony, and so angry on his behalf, that he’d confused it with feeling something for him…

Tony thought he was just waiting to see which one it was.

And then Steve had gone and said that he’d just… got to like him.

That he’d thought Tony was beautiful, and he’d liked something Tony said, and then he’d… just… got to like him.

It hadn’t even occurred to Tony that Steve might say that.

For a start, he’d never expected Steve to be as mundanely, relatably honest as that. To say something as human and as understandable and as believable as that.

And, okay, that was quite obviously the story of almost every relationship on earth – but no one actually said that… did they? Tony didn’t have a lot of first hand experience to go on, but every movie and TV show and novel and news story seemed to show people saying ‘I knew, the moment I met you’ and ‘I’ve never felt anything like this before’ or ‘there is something more important at stake’. Dramatic, all-or-nothing statements, designed to be narratively satisfying – to be what the other person wanted to hear. And Tony had been prepared for Steve to say any one of those ridiculous things, and a hundred equally irrational things besides.

But he’d not expected Steve to say something that… sensible.

…He hadn’t expected to really believe whatever Steve told him.

And it had completely blindsided him, he admitted it. It’d thrown his whole plan so far out of whack that he forgot what it even was. All those carefully considered priorities just fell by the wayside, as Tony was overwhelmed by a basic, human rush of feeling-

What, really?

…you just… like me?

The idea that someone could just like him… in a perfectly ordinary, entirely relatable way…

That someone could just get to know him, and like him for that-

That Steve might actually like him-

And suddenly Tony had just felt like a lovestruck teenager…

And a lovestruck teenager would apparently think it was a good idea to drink Steve’s blood.

That was the only explanation that Tony could think of for his sudden, ludicrous change of heart. That he’d simply lost his head for a second…

And said we can try this…

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. He’d actually said yes. He’d even not left himself a loophole or a grey area or so much as a few days breathing room-

Steve is probably arranging it right now-

And at that exact moment, Tony’s stomach gave a loud and painful rumble – as though it was trying to be spiteful. Reminding him of exactly what he was.

Tony groaned, angrily, and pushed himself up off of the couch with far too much force. Suddenly, he was enraged at the entire world. Furious at the injustice of his very existence. And it was petulant, and it was immature, and it was obviously pointless, because there wasn’t even anything to be mad at.

…But it wasn’t fair.

For everything to be this difficult, and painful, and complicated.

For there to be nothing that he was allowed to have, nothing he could be happy about.

For there to be even more horrors to discover about himself, even worse things to be afraid of-

Because being undead and being dependant on blood and never getting to see the sunlight weren’t enough, apparently.

And being excited that someone liked him was too much for him to ever hope for – far, far too much.

Apparently, it’d been asking too much to just hope he could walk away from this thing. The thing he wanted so badly, that everyone else got to have-

But no, Tony wasn’t even that lucky. He didn’t get to lose the love of his life – he had to worry that he’d be the one to kill him-

That last thought occurred to him as he reached the kitchen area – and suddenly Tony found himself gripping hold of the worktop, just to keep himself upright.

That had been a distant hypothetical, up until now. A vague warning of what could happen if he didn’t fix this thing – something he’d flinched away from, because he’d been so determined to avoid it.

But he’d not fixed this thing, and he couldn’t fix this thing now – Steve was going to call him, and say everything was done, and if Tony hadn’t been able to tell him no before, he was never going to manage it after-

Oh, God, if I hurt him-

I will never hurt him.

…And Tony had no idea where that had come from.

He’d never felt anything like that before. That impulse was so pure and so powerful and so… real, so different from all the confused babbling his head was usually full of-

It was even in a different voice.

…And it was right.

Tony had no idea how he knew it, or why he didn’t panic of over the strangeness of it, or how he could possibly be so reassured, so quickly…

But he was.

He actually felt a wave of relief roll through him, as he suddenly just… understood-

He couldn’t hurt Steve.

He’d kill anyone who tried to hurt Steve.

He knew that.

And he even knew it didn’t make sense. That, objectively, he couldn’t know that, any more than he understood any part of this debacle. That simply feeling very sure of something wasn’t proof that it was right. Even that it was weird to feel a compulsion like that, to hear an internal voice so clear and distinct from everything else….

Somehow, it didn’t matter.

He was still completely sure of that one fact, this revelation-

He would never be able to watch Steve suffer. He would feel every agony twice as deeply as Steve did, his whole being would recoil from it… his entire body flinched at the very idea. That instinct was as fundamental and as primal as anything he could ever feel – no bloodlust or vampiric loyalty could ever be as basic or as certain as this.

And that was…

God, so much better…

Tony felt lightheaded all over again – but this time it was actually nice. A wash of pleasant, comfortable dizziness as he thought that, maybe, it was going to be okay…

And, yeah, he knew that wasn’t everything. That he’d had plenty of anxieties before it ever occurred to him that he might bite Steve, that all those worries were still as real and as important as they’d ever been.

He still had to deal with this overwhelming love for a man he couldn’t possibly keep.

He still had to think about all his vulnerabilities, all those risks – and for Pepper, and Rhodey, not to mention the company and the Avengers and all the people who relied on them…

He was still an undead, inhuman monster, who couldn’t go out in the daytime and had to drink blood

… And who might still want to bite Steve…

But not if it was hurting him.

He knew he could never want to bite Steve enough to hurt him – that it would stop him wanting to, if Steve pushed him away.

If Steve cried, the way I did when Obie-

God, no. Tony felt sick at the thought. He’d die to stop Steve ever having to feel like that. He could never-

Of course, if he didn’t push me away-

Was still a deeply disturbing thought, yes, and clearly Tony still had a lot of ugly issues to work through. Fine.

…But he could never hurt Steve.

And realising that… it was like watching your house collapse into flames, but knowing your family made it out okay. Realising that you could have lost the one thing that really mattered and hadn’t.

For a moment, Tony didn’t care that the rest of his life was going up in smoke.

He didn’t even care that, in reality, this sudden confidence was entirely baseless – and probably as weird and frightening as everything he was running from.

He just knew he felt better… and, Jesus, it’d been a long time since he felt better about anything. It was a reprieve, just when he so badly needed the rest – and he’d take it.

Tony took a minute to settle his weight back onto his feet, letting go of a purely symbolic breath. Somehow, he knew he’d only get a few minutes before his head was just a mass of panicked noise again – so, he calculated quickly.

Drink something.

Go to bed, while his head was still quiet enough that maybe – maybe – he might be able to get some sleep.

Worry about everything else in the morning… or, the evening, as it would be by then.

Fine.

Tony opened the cabinet above the sink, his nose wrinkling as he remembered what an appalling batch of blood this was…

And I will not make comparisons,

And I will not assign any meaning to this feeling

And I will not think of the context of this moment, in any way.

I will just drink this, and go to bed.

…Was all very well, in theory.

Unfortunately, even that turned out to be more difficult than he’d expected.  

The smell hit him before he’d even gotten the vial to his lips… a sharp, rancid smell, like curdled milk. He tried to brace, and took a huge mouthful, thinking it might be easier to get it over and done with as quickly as possible –

And had to spit it out again, immediately.

He just couldn’t swallow that. It was just too sour, too bitter… like it was off-

Like it was wrong.

I shouldn’t be drinking other people’s blood…

Tony wasn’t sure if that’d been the same voice or not. It wasn’t nearly as reassuring, this time… in fact, along with the acrid taste still coating his tongue and the gory stain he’d left in the sink, it was enough to literally turn his stomach.

He leant over the basin, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as he willed himself not to be sick. Hand shaking, he reached out and turned the tap on full blast, washing the blood away. Trying to focus on the smell of fresh water and the sharp flecks of the spray on his face.

He told himself not to be ridiculous.

That there was no reason he shouldn’t drink this blood – that it couldn’t possibly make it taste worse, even if there had been.

He didn’t even know what Steve’s blood tasted like-

This was just a terrible batch. That’s all it was. That, and the fact that he’d felt sick anyway – he was tired, and hungry and anxious-

And he just couldn’t deal with this right now.

He cast one final glance at the cabinet – and had to flinch away. He knew that being over hungry was probably one of the reasons he felt nauseous, but there was simply no way he could face that. Not yet.

…But maybe he could still sleep.

…That would be a few hours break from all this relentless thinking.

Maybe if he wasn’t so exhausted and wound up, the blood wouldn’t seem such a chore.

…Maybe, by then, Steve will have-

No.

No, no. no.

That was it. He was done with today.

He was going to bed.

Whatever was left of the bloodstain would just have to wait until he woke up.

*

Of course, Tony’s head didn’t stay quiet for long enough for him to make it to his bedroom. By the time he collapsed onto his mattress the endless cycle of worries had started up again – and engaged in active combat with the exhaustion that was beginning to overwhelm him.

In the end, he’d fallen into some sort of shallow compromise, drifting somewhere between awake and asleep. That strange, unsatisfying limbo, in which he was unable to direct his thoughts but still somehow aware of the time passing.

And then, eventually, those thoughts had started to break down into words and sounds and…vague, disjointed concepts…and images…

Somewhere along the line they became oddly self-aware dreams… he almost knew he was dreaming…

He was talking to Steve.

And Tony kept thinking he was in a room that he recognised… the workshop, or his bedroom from when he was a teenager, or his dorm room at MIT… but it seemed to shift in front of his eyes. He kept recognising it as somewhere it obviously wasn’t.

He kept thinking, it’s okay, Steve is here… even while he knew that, clearly, Steve wasn’t here…

He remembered Steve’s voice… Steve talking, almost like he was speaking in Tony’s head…

Disjointed, random things…

And… whole speeches, whole conversations that seemed to happen too fast…

He remembered Steve saying,

              Yes, of course it was horrible what he did to you – because you didn’t want it, and he meant it as an act of violence, you were too young, and he was meant to be your guardian

              That doesn’t mean it would always be horrible

              It wouldn’t be wrong, if I wanted it, if you meant it as an act of love

              If you’re meant to be mine, like this.

He remembered Steve saying,

              Just because some of what he said was true, it doesn’t mean everything he said was true.

              It doesn’t make anything he did right.

              All abusers and terrorists start with something true – and then they twist it and take it out of context and add a whole bunch of lies

              It doesn’t mean anything, Tony.

He remembered Steve saying,

              Well… what if I don’t want you to do this with other people?

              I mean… do you still want to do this with other people?

              Maybe, if it doesn’t feel right with other people… maybe that means we-

And then, suddenly, Tony was awake – somehow surprised and not at all surprised to find he was alone in his bedroom.

His head swam, briefly, like it was struggling to get up. His eyes burned, like they’d only just realised they were open.

He found himself thinking back to the dream, so sure he’d remember it – it felt so real, and vivid, and recent…

But when he reached for it, it seemed to crumble, like it was made of sand.

Steve was here…

Well, not ‘here’, but…

We were talking… about…

It was either sex, or blood…

And it bothered Tony that he couldn’t tell the difference-

And then his phone rang.

Tony shot it a sceptical look. It struck him as immediately eerie, that it should ring just then.

It didn’t occur to him that it could be anyone else.

And he knew, this was it.

…He wasn’t entirely sure what ‘it’ was, exactly.

He had no idea what he was going to say, or what was going to happen – he couldn’t even remember what it was he was so afraid of… or, maybe he hadn’t worked that out yet…

But he just knew that this was going to be something important, something final, something…

Inevitable.

He picked the phone up, and looked at it… and answered it.

What else could he do?

“Hey,” he said, softly. And he heard Steve take a little breath, and he could swear he felt his heart clench.

“Hey,” Steve answered, his voice just a bit tight. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, of course not,” Tony assured. “…It’s never a bad time, really.”

“Oh, well, I uh… said I’d call, when… everything was done,” Steve explained, nervously. “So…”

For a second, Tony was too busy thinking that Steve was adorable to recognise what he was saying. And then it hit him.

“Oh. Wow,” he gasped. “That was fast.”

“Well, I, uh, I know how to take my own blood, and there was an empty Med Lab, so, I figured, you know, I’d take the chance while I had it…” Steve over explained. And somehow Tony found himself smiling.

How did that happen?

“You’re very sweet, you know that?” Tony told him, even though he wasn’t sure he should be saying it.

“Not really,” Steve muttered, shyly – which only made Tony grin wider. “So, um, did you want me to ask Pepper to bring it over? Or, I mean, I’m happy to… I can bring it over any time.”

And Tony found himself just having to respond to each question as it came, focusing on whatever thoughts happened to crop up.

He didn’t want Pepper to know.

He wanted to see Steve again.

Was as far as he got with question one.

“Well, I mean, if you’re sure you don’t mind…” he replied, quietly. Thinking of how to say that he wanted to keep this thing under wraps, without it sounding offensive-

“No, that’s fine,” Steve agreed, eagerly. “I mean… If it’s not a bad time right now, I can bring it over.”

“Oh, now?” Tony blinked.

That was too soon.

But he had already said he wasn’t busy, so how could he put this off?

And… why bother putting it off anyway, when it was so obviously going to happen?

…when he was hungry now-

“Or, I mean, I can come tonight,” Steve rescued him. “Sorry, I know you always said night time was better…”

Okay, that was a little bit of breathing room at least… Tony had no idea how much, because he had no idea what time it was – but that was better than now.

…And it couldn’t possibly be that far off.

And it was heartbreakingly endearing, for Steve to apologise for not thinking of that-

Was as much as Tony had time to think, before he had to answer question two.

“Would…uh, would that be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve beamed. Tony could so clearly imagine his face; he could hear the smile in his voice. “So, I’ll come over at the usual time?”

I can’t believe you actually like me.

I can’t believe I am actually going to drink your blood.

I can’t wait to see you again.

…I have to answer you.

“Yeah, um, okay,” he nodded, and then struggled to add, “thank you, for this.”

“No, really, it’s fine,” Steve answered. And then there was an awkward pause, half a second two long, before Tony hung up.

Tony gave his phone a weary glare before he tossed it aside. Then he let his head fall into his hands.

He wondered… had he called Steve to say no, this morning? Had he been lying to himself, this whole time? Was there ever really any chance of him resisting a temptation like this…?

Well, he’d given up on that pretence now, at least.

Steve was going to be here in a few hours, and Tony was going to take his blood… and drink it. So, he could at least forgo all that back and forth about whether he should try to explain to Steve, or pour the blood away, or any other bullshit like that.

Which was a relief, at least.

As for everything else…

“JARVIS, what time is it?” he groaned.

“5.38pm, sir,” JARVIS responded cheerfully. And, immediately, Tony rushed to calculate…

Four hours, twenty-two minutes.

Well, that was…

Too soon

Too far away

That was… exciting. And disturbing. And terrifying. And confusing.

…Mostly exciting, if he was honest.

*

Steve had sat in the car, parked outside Tony’s house, for about twenty minutes before he went in.

Wondering if it was weird – rude, even – to turn up that far ahead of schedule.

Wondering if JARVIS would’ve told Tony when he arrived… If Tony was inside, wondering why Steve was being weird and rude and just staying in the car…

Occasionally glancing at the carry case on the seat beside him. Like he was expecting it to move, or something.

Steve had spent most of that time thinking through the familiar cycles. Anxieties and fantasies that he’d run through so many times, it was like he’d worn grooves in his head – which just made it easier for every train of thought to run that same way.

Trying to plan things he could say to Tony, ways he could respond to all the things that Tony might possibly ask.

Flinching away from a hundred worst case scenarios. Imagining all the ways he could possibly fuck this up, and just how bad that could potentially be…

Daydreaming about this actually helping, Tony feeling better because of it…

Tony liking it-

And that was one of the places his thinking kept threatening to derail. Those sharp turns and sudden stops, where he could so easily have just skipped into thinking something completely new…

And impossible to direct or predict or stop…

Something dangerous.

Eventually, he made it to 9.56pm. Close enough. As he crossed the drive to the main entrance, he couldn’t help noticing how different it felt, without Bucky there to reassure him, or tease him – or, usually, both. It made Steve feel oddly exposed. Not so much because he was alone, but because this was all so different to what he was used to. It had the strange effect of making everything look slightly different. Making Steve overthink every trivial part of this – even getting into the damn house.

And it made him think… how many times he’d wished he could be here on his own.

How many daydreams he had, that could only happen if it was just the two of them.

How much Steve still wanted to kiss him. How much he wanted to remember that night, and relive every inch of Tony’s skin, and-

Even that seemed a bit… close, now.

Like if he let himself remember, if he let himself drift down that particular path… he might end up somewhere unexpected. Somewhere there was no turning back from.

And, anyway, the door had opened by then.

He was here now.

He was actually doing this thing.

Tony was right there, waiting, when Steve stepped out of the elevator. And Tony looked right at him, and smiled… and Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

This had never happened before.

There had always been Bucky to prioritise, or put at ease, or be polite in front of.

There had always been a procedure to prepare, or the hum or medical equipment, already booted up and waiting impatiently.

Steve wouldn’t have been able to get as lost in this moment, if Bucky had been standing next to him.

And Tony would never have looked at Steve like that, if Bucky had been there. It was just too…

Personal.

Intimate.

Steve felt the blood rush to his face. He glanced down shyly, gesturing subtly with the case as he spoke.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tony smiled – and took a step closer. Steve looked up in time to see Tony glance down at the carry case, his arm lifting almost hesitantly towards it. Steve took a sharp breath, and willed his hand not to shake as he held it up for Tony to take.

Steve felt an electric shock, as his fingers brushed softly over Tony’s.

A dip in his stomach, like you feel at the crest of a rollercoaster, as he felt Tony take the weight of the case.

And then Tony was standing right there.

Just a bit too close.

Just a bit too far away.

Holding five bags of Steve’s blood…

And then his eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, wide and dark and flecked with the reflected silver of the workshop lights. Steve’s body tensed inward, his breath catching in his chest… his chin tilting up, just slightly, without him having to think about it.

Tony dropped his gaze, and Steve could feel Tony’s eyes running over his throat.

Steve swallowed, hard.

He did it on purpose.

And he heard Tony sigh, so very softly

The air around them seemed to thicken. Time slowed and expanded, as Tony let his eyes run lower, over Steve’s shoulders, and chest-

And then hesitated.

Tony’s brow creased, first confused, then warmly amused, before he looked back at Steve’s face again. And, out of nowhere, Steve remembered the little piece of paper that was sitting in his top pocket – or, rather, he remembered the awkward and prolonged debate he’d had with himself about whether to bother bringing it.

And it had been such a regular, run of the mill dilemma – wanting to be thoughtful, and prepared, versus not wanting to come over as needy or a total hick. He’d decided against it, actually. At the last minute, he’d decided it was over the top.

Steve felt self-conscious now that he knew Tony had seen it, remembering the embarrassment he’d associated with it earlier.

It wasn’t so much that it brought Steve to his senses, but it vaguely reminded him what ‘his senses’ were. That a whole world existed outside of the reality of this moment, that there were simple worries and human reactions he’d had about things, at one point.

He blushed deeper, and pulled the note out of his pocket.

“They’re still trying to sell you on the ol’ Talko then?” Tony asked, warmly, as Steve unfolded the paper.

“Hm?” Steve frowned – and then realised that he’d written these notes on the back of a Talleroy Communications Flyer. A little smile escaped him, simply because he liked that Tony had remembered it. “Oh, yeah, they came back. I think they might even be coming back again…”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, entirely sincerely. “Would you like me to have them all killed?”

“Oh, no,” Steve shook his head. “Not all of them – just the marketing guy would be fine.”

Tony giggled, his whole face lighting up, like it always did when he laughed…and Steve felt a shiver run up his neck.

And then Tony looked back at the note, a questioning look in his eyes, well?

“Oh, um, I don’t actually think you need any of this,” Steve muttered, holding it out to him, “But, I thought, you know, just in case…”

And he tried not to hold his breath as Tony took it, and flipped it over, and smiled again.

It was only a few notes about the blood. When it was taken. The readings from the little heart monitor. A few details about the serum and measurable effects it had on Steve’s biology, all of which he knew by heart, by now.

Just a list of dry, numeric facts… and yet Steve felt like he was watching Tony read a love letter.

Arg. He knew he shouldn’t have bothered with this. That Tony would’ve asked for these details, if they’d mattered at all-

“Thank you,” Tony said, folding the note up very carefully, and slipping it into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. “I, uh, probably should’ve thought to ask for some of that, actually. Sorry – this is all kind of new on me…”

“Oh, we used to do this all the time in the forties,” came out straighter that Steve had intended, purely because he was nervous – but that only seemed to make Tony laugh more.

 “There’s so much I don’t know about you,” he grinned. A throw away comment, a bookend to Steve’s joke – but still, Steve felt compelled to answer it,

“Well, if there’s anything you want to know…”

And he saw Tony’s eyes flash, startled or intrigued, he couldn’t tell. And he had a sudden stab of panic that he’d said something wrong, that he’d ruined something.

“Well, I’ll call you,” Tony answered, sincerely. “Whatever happens with… this.”

Steve tried to let go of that breath as subtly as he could. Of course, there was a very loud part of his brain still demanding that he hold onto this moment. The part of him that was trying to come up with anything he could say, rather than have to leave.

…And the part of him that still wanted to reach out and grab Tony.

…Or fall to his knees in front of him.

The part of him that just wanted so much to kiss him-

But all of that was overwhelmed by the far greater, far deeper fear of getting this wrong.

Ultimately, not doing anything seemed less risky than anything he could do. And, truthfully, he was surprised to have made it this far without embarrassing himself or offending Tony – there was a part of him that was eager to get out while he was ahead.

So, after a moment’s panicked hesitation, he allowed that fear to narrowly win the conflict. He gave a little smile, and a nod, and stepped back towards the elevator.

“So, I’ll see you, then…” he managed, awkwardly, as the doors slid open. And Tony beamed so naturally when he answered him,

“I promise.”

Steve was just glad he made it until the doors closed before his legs gave out completely, and he was forced to fall back against the wall to steady himself.

Well.

At least that went okay.

…Didn’t it?

*

Tony had so nearly called out after him.

The part of him that had missed Steve so much – he hadn’t even realised how much, until he saw him again… but oh, to have just had a few more minutes with him, to have been able to talk to him for a little bit longer…

And the part of Tony that that still wanted Steve. That low growl that had been pushed into the background by all these other neurosis and panics… but had never gone away. The part of him that had wanted to call Steve back just so that he could touch him.

And the part of Tony that always felt better whenever Steve was there. The frantic, nervous part of him that was soothed by Steve’s presence. Just that.

…And then there was that strange, new part of him. The little voice that whispered, Steve should be here. The part of Tony that felt wrong, doing this without him.

But then, that was the reason Tony hadn’t called out to Steve in the end – because the idea of doing this in front of him felt every bit as wrong.

There was a very basic, instinctive part of Tony that recoiled from the idea of Steve ever watching him drink – that could barely comprehend the additional horror of it actually being Steve’s blood-

And a separate, primal instinct that was thoroughly confused by Steve not being here. A low, aching emptiness…

Tony looked down at the case, still swaying innocently in his hand. Suddenly, it felt so much heavier…

He walked over to the nearest work bench and lifted the case onto it. He flicked both of the clasps open with a sharp, unified crack. He felt a rush of heat run up his spine as he finally opened it-

And a sudden, plunging hunger when he saw what was inside.

His stomach twisted painfully. His mouth watered. His vision seemed to cloud at the edges and focus on the colour in front of him.

…It was beautiful.

And it didn’t even seem weird to Tony that he should think that. It was just… entirely different to the dull, muddy burgundy he was so used to seeing. It was such a pure, vital colour. A thick swirl of deep, molten red, like the centre of a precious stone.

Tony’s hand reached out for one of the bags – jolting briefly at the shock, as he felt it moving under his palm.

He could swear it felt warm…

Tony got most of his donations under the pretence of scientific research rather than medical transfusions, so he was used to seeing it racked up in vials. He wasn’t used to it yielding under his hands like this, being able to watch it surge and swell as he held it tighter…

It felt fitting, somehow.

Closer to how things should have been…

And he thought… he should really get a mug, or a glass, or something…

But only in response to a wordless idea that had already gripped him. Something he was already going to do.

He squeezed the bag, just hard enough that it bulged. And he thought of Steve…

Steve’s arms…

The exact shape of them, that warm, fluid strength that rolled under Steve’s skin…

And Tony brought the bag to his lips, letting his teeth rest on the surface for just a second… letting himself feel Steve’s blood waiting there for him…

And then he bit down, gently… Because he would be gentle, if Steve-

And then the first trickle of blood hit the tip of Tony’s tongue-

And Sweet Jesus Fuck.

Tony was immediately overwhelmed by an animal desperation for more of that beautiful taste. Rich and salty and almost sweet, and a completely different texture to anything he’d ever drunk before. He bit down before he could stop himself, and a sudden burst of it filled his mouth. A low, feral moan escaped him, from deep in his chest, his fingers digging harder into the bag. He swallowed in sharp, almost painful gulps-

God, he was starving.

And it felt so good to drink like this. Tony could feel that ache inside him easing, his whole body relaxing as that heat curled though him.

And then he got to draining the last drops, his hand closing into a fist as he swallowed that final mouthful. And then he finally let the bag drop to his side, his head falling heavily in front of him

…And the world just seemed to roll from under him-

Tony dropped to his knees to save himself from collapsing flat out onto his back. He felt like he was weightless, like he was floating away from the ground, away from himself. His vision was blotted with stars, his skin was filmed in sweat, his tongue was still coated with that perfect, beautiful taste.

He felt strong.

He felt… better.

Nothing hurt, nothing ached, nothing felt weary or empty or cold-

Everything was brighter.

More real, more there.

And then Tony felt his body curling in on itself, his fingernails scratching against the floor-

He wanted Steve.

Steve was supposed to be here. Tony was meant to-

But Steve wasn’t here, so Tony had no choice but to throw his arms around himself, and let this feeling wash through him.

This deep satisfaction.

This heady physical bliss.

This sudden surge of reassurance, this relief

This overwhelming, all-consuming need.

“Sir?” JARVIS enquired, carefully.

“Yes,” Tony panted. His voice felt different. Everything felt different-

“Are you in need of assistance, sir?” JARVIS asked more softly. But Tony just shook his head.

“No, I’m okay,” he managed, over gasps and swallows.

“I’m okay now.”

Chapter Text

There were times when Steve was especially pleased that he had a friend like Bucky.

In the middle of battle, when he could throw Bucky the briefest glance and know for sure that he’d understood exactly what it meant.

On those melancholy days, when Steve couldn’t work out what was wrong, and yet Bucky always knew exactly how to cheer him up.

And in those hot, painful moments, when Steve was so overcome with physical need that he couldn’t think straight – and he knew that Bucky wouldn’t ask any questions.

Steve had never been as thankful for that particular aspect of their friendship as he was when he got back from Tony’s that night.

He’d gone straight to Bucky’s room, and not even bothered to say ‘hi’ when Bucky answered the door. Steve just grabbed him by the arms, and kissed him as desperately as he ever had – and Bucky, bless his soul, had caught on immediately. He didn’t just let Steve kiss him. Bucky had kissed him back every bit as hungrily, grabbing him almost violently and pulling him into the room.

And Steve knew, even then, that this would be… different, to how it usually was.

That he wasn’t here because of the familiar, aching frustration. That this desperate, searing need wasn’t just more than anything he’d ever felt…

This was new.

This incredible excess of adrenaline, that made his lungs burn and his muscles tense to the point of genuine pain. This alien feeling of having no control whatsoever over his own thoughts, the seemingly random surges of pure emotion. That unplaceable emptiness. That desperation to call out to Tony, as immediate and panicked and confused as it was when Tony was actually standing there.

And Steve didn’t even know if it was anything to do with sex, and he didn’t know if it had anything to do with the serum – although, he had to guess the serum wasn’t helping…

The point was, he already knew that fucking Bucky wasn’t going to make this go away-

But Jesus Christ it would be something.

Steve dragged Bucky on top of him as he fell onto the bed, clawing Bucky’s t-shirt over his head so roughly that he stretched the fabric. He saw Bucky grin, briefly, as he rushed to meet Steve’s pace, ripping Steve’s shirt off and unfastening his jeans.

“You want to fuck me?” Bucky whispered efficiently, almost perfunctorily – because that was how it usually went. Whoever got wound up would be the person to go on top, just because it was simpler that way. Quicker. If nothing else, it was easier to follow a pattern, to do what they always did because that meant they didn’t have to think about what they were doing. Moments like this were always about meeting a specific need, easing a particular pain. Whatever got it done.

But… it was a different need this time…

And…

“No, I want you to fuck me,” Steve answered, his voice rough and breathless.

Bucky’s eyes widened in an amused sort of intrigue – but he didn’t question it. Of course he didn’t. He just smiled, fair enough, and carried on tearing Steve’s jeans down over his legs-

And then he grabbed Steve by the shoulders, and threw him onto his front.

Which wasn’t what they usually did, either.

It was strangely jarring… They always fell into the same routine, on nights like this. The same running order, the same positions, hitting all the same beats every single time. Having Bucky do something else conflicted with a subconscious expectation, a corporal assumption. Like walking into somewhere very familiar, and finding that first step just wasn’t there anymore…

But…

Yes, actually.

This was better.

And Steve wasn’t sure why it was better… he had the odd feeling that he wouldn’t much like the answer, or himself, if he did work it out…

But, fuck it, this was good-

This would do.

Steve didn’t think about it. He tried not to think about anything. He just pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, parting his legs and trying to relax his body. Letting Bucky prepare him with sharp, efficient movements, silently willing him to go faster – not saying anything.

Not trusting what he might say, if he let himself speak at all.

And then he felt Bucky pull him into position, pausing just long enough to whisper,

“Yeah?”

“Yes, yes, go, Jesus,” Steve hissed, already trying to rock back-

And then Bucky pushed into him in one swift, smooth motion, tearing through one layer of that tension, forcing the air up out of his lungs. For a brief second, Steve’s mind went blank, all of his faculties focused on just feeling this-

And then he thought of Tony.

He hadn’t meant to. Some part of him managed to feel bad for it, even now. It was one thing to go to Bucky, as a friend, to satisfy a physical need that they both understood. But fucking Bucky while he thought of someone else – because he wanted someone else – immediately struck Steve as being a different thing entirely. Disrespectful, or something-

But he just couldn’t help it.

He couldn’t not think about Tony.

Steve would’ve been thinking about Tony, and remembering Tony, and wanting Tony, whatever he was doing.

And maybe that meant he should stop this, but Jesus Christ he just needed-

And then Bucky slammed into him again, and oh, that was good-

And he thought of Tony again – and that was good-

Illicit, and guilty, and still so good.

And then he felt Bucky’s hands caress roughly over his hips, pulling Steve into him again, and again, setting that deep, pounding rhythm that was familiar to nights like this-

And he thought of Tony’s hands.

Steve remembered Tony’s hands, stroking over his chest, clawing at his back

He imagined Tony’s hands, pushing him down, tearing his clothes off, gripping Steve’s hips while he fucked him, just like this.

Oh, God, Tony might be drinking his blood right now-

Then Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulder, pulling him up onto his knees, holding Steve’s back against his chest and pushing even deeper into him. A sharp, startled cry fell over Steve’s lips, his hands clawing fruitlessly for something to grab hold of.

And he remembered Tony smiling at him, as the elevator doors closed.

He thought of stepping out of that elevator instead, grabbing Tony with both hands and pulling him hard against his chest.

He thought of Tony’s fingernails digging into his skin-

Harder,

Hard enough to draw blood-

And then Bucky dropped his head, and buried his face against Steve’s neck-

And then the dull press of his teeth against Steve’s shoulder-

And, fuck, the shock of it-

Steve came so hard and so suddenly that it was actually painful, a blistering, visceral sensation that ripped right through the middle of him. He could hear himself screaming – and it was purely luck that it wasn’t Tony’s name.

That it wasn’t, please bite me Tony, please.

Actually, it wasn’t anything at all. Just a high-pitched noise that broke into a low, anguished groan as his climax jerked through him.

And then it was like he’d missed a second, and he found himself panting and lightheaded and weak, his limbs hanging as heavy, barely tethered parts, his weight resting gracelessly against Bucky’s chest. Bucky still had one arm across Steve’s stomach, saving him from falling forward… holding still, now. Waiting for Steve to catch his breath.

Steve didn’t even know if Bucky had come.

And, oh, suddenly he felt very guilty…

“S’okay,” Bucky murmured, his voice warm and slow, letting his head fall onto the back of Steve’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathed. He heard Bucky hum a good-natured laugh into his hair.

“Don’t be stupid,” Bucky assured him, genuinely. “Told you, I’m always here if you need me,”

“It’s different,” Steve whispered.

“So, I’m also here for you when it’s different,” Bucky smiled, casually. “I’m pretty sure that’s what ‘always’ means, anyway.”

Steve felt an inch of relief, up through his ribs. He was so lucky to have Bucky. To have met him in the first place, to have found him again – to have him now, of all times.

That really did make Steve feel just a bit better.

That was something.

Bucky pulled away from him, putting one hand firmly against Steve’s back and guiding him to lie down on the bed. Steve felt the world carry on rolling backwards, the ceiling swaying in front of his eyes. He was vaguely aware of Bucky standing up, and the scraping sound of the closet door opening-

And then the sudden sensation of air against his skin, and the soft weight of fabric settling against his chest.

He glanced up to find the bathrobe that Bucky had just thrown over him, and he smiled.

“Thank you,” he muttered, pulling it over himself like a blanket. Telling himself that he’d put it on just as soon as the room stopped spinning. In the meantime, he let his eyes slip shut, and relaxed his shoulders, and let some of that tension drain out of him…

He did feel a bit better for this, too.

It wasn’t everything. There were still as many anxieties about the situation as there had ever been, and that emptiness was still there, and Steve still felt unnervingly emotional, right now… But it had done something for that physical desperation, used up some of that adrenaline.

…Actually, come to think of it, he was exhausted.

“Look Steve, I know you’re one of those people that need space with things,” Bucky sighed, dragging Steve halfway out of his haze. When he opened his eyes again the room was too bright. It took him a second to focus on Bucky, now sitting in his jeans in the wicker chair at the end of the bed.

“Hm?” Steve frowned, struggling to wake himself up.

“I’ve known you long enough to know when not to push it,” Bucky clarified, with a soft smile. “But, you know – that means I also have to know when it is time to push it, too.”

Steve huffed out a weary little groan. He hadn’t meant to – but he was just so tired. He literally couldn’t remember the last time he slept, and he felt like his head had run a million miles since yesterday, and he’d given two and a half litres of blood this morning.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to push it now,” Bucky assured him, like he could read Steve’s mind. “I’m just giving you some advance warning here. I know you like to get your own head right with things first, sometimes. I know you’re not one of those people who likes to talk about themselves. And sometimes it’s harder to explain the problem to other people than it is to just deal with it yourself – I get all that. But, just so you know, I’m not just going to sit here while you get more and more worked up, and act weirder and weirder, and not say anything. You are getting to the stage where ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ won’t fly, my friend.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. He’d known that anyway, even before this little interlude… to be honest, he’d been surprised that Bucky had let him get away with it for this long. And, up until tonight, that had been yet another item on his increasingly hysterical list of things he really couldn’t deal with…

But it didn’t seem quite that objectionable an idea, right now.

Tedious and frustrating and uncomfortable, probably… but doable.

Well, as long as he didn’t have to do it now.

“You can sleep here, you know,” Bucky commented lightly. Which was probably an odd thing for him to say, because Steve was always falling asleep in Bucky’s room – especially on nights like this.

And even stranger was Steve’s immediate instinct that… no, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t fall asleep next to someone else tonight. It was perverse enough that he was going to fall asleep alone. And it wasn’t even about fidelity or trust or honour – otherwise, Steve wouldn’t have come here in the first place. It was a very specific instinct, something that wasn’t at all offended that Steve had fucked someone else… but simply couldn’t have him fall asleep next to them.

Not tonight.

…It was going to be really hard to explain all this, when Bucky did eventually make him.

“Thanks,” he smiled, “But I think I want my own bed. For, maybe, ten hours…” Oh, it was hard to sit up, to even think about getting dressed.

“Well, I am going to ask what’s going on with you, when you wake up,” Bucky warned him again, “So, I dunno, you might want to make it twelve.”

Steve scoffed another drowsy laugh, pulling his jeans up over his hips. And then, as he shrugged into his t-shirt, he really thought about what Bucky was saying…

About Bucky, in general.

He let go of a soft breath, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt.

“I am sorry Buck,” he sighed. “You’re right, I have been completely in my own head for weeks-”

“That isn’t what I said-”

“Well, I have, and I know I’ve been… ignoring everything, and… selfish.” Steve recognised, as he said it. And Bucky rolled his eyes, but Steve pressed on with it. “I know a lot’s going on with you right now, and you probably feel like I haven’t even noticed. And I know I’m asking for a lot, and not even telling you what it’s about. And… I just want you to know, whatever… this ends up being… It’s not more important than you are.”

He was saying it for himself as much as for Bucky. Making sure that caveat got laid down with the foundations of this thing. Because Steve wasn’t sure what was going to happen with Tony, or what it meant… But, if he was going to start working it out, then he might as well start here.

And he was fast realising that he had to start working this out. That this just ‘something that had happened’, or ‘a lot that was going on, right now’. This wasn’t something he was going to get over or get used to. Something was different, now. He was different, now.

And whatever that meant, it couldn’t mean abandoning Bucky, or using Bucky, or always putting Bucky second.

Steve would sacrifice his own happiness – his own life – for Tony. Easy. Gladly. Done.

And he knew there were times when Tony would have to be his priority… That certain things that were already a priority, before he even knew what they were.

And he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that his entire existence had changed, in ways he couldn’t even process yet…

But not this. Never this.

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky announced theatrically, leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm over his face. “I really didn’t want to go here, but you have forced my hand. You have forced this upon us both, and I hope you’re happy.” And then he sat forward again, resting his weight on his knees and fixing Steve with a serious look. “I’m going to have to actually be sincere now.”

Steve went to carry on the joke; he almost winced and apologised and pretend-begged him not to. But then he registered the earnest expression that had suddenly appeared on Bucky’s face, and he stilled.

“I know that to everyone else it’s been like, seventy years – but, for you, it’s been, what, three years since you met Erskine?” Bucky asked, hypothetically. “And, in that time, you’ve been through a life changing medical experiment, you’ve been to war, you’ve had a near death experience – well, more than one. You’ve lost everyone you ever knew, you’ve woken up in a weird, alien world – and then found out that that world was trying to fuck you, and taken that on too. You took on the whole of Hydra, and won, and then you took on the political elite, and won, and in all that time your whole focus has been building this team and keeping the world safe – and me.”

And he dropped his eyes for a second, almost shyly. When he looked up again there was a hint of sadness there.

“I know what you risked, to help me. I know what you went through.”

“Bucky-”

“Shut up Steve, I have the talking stick right now,” Bucky warned him, playfully, and waited for Steve to pinch his lips together before he carried on. “I know what you did, to save me. What you’ve been doing, all this time. Don’t think for a second that you’ve ever once let me down, because you haven’t. Not even after everything you’ve been through. Even now, with whatever this is, there you are at every appointment and still feeling bad for not caring enough…” He shook his head affectionately; I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. “And, anyway, I’d tell you flat out if I thought you were being an ass, and I’d tell you straight away.”

Steve smiled at that. That was probably true, actually…

“And the only problems I have with you right now are the same damn problems I’ve had since we were eight years old,” Bucky groaned, affectionately. “You always make everything as hard for yourself as you possibly can, and you always think you have to do it on your own.”

“…You said we could leave this until tomorrow,” Steve answered, weakly. Trying not to grin, in spite of everything.

“And we can,” Bucky replied, brightly. “All I’m saying is, when I pin you down and make you tell me what the hell is up with you, it’s not because I feel left out. And it’s not because I feel taken for granted, and it’s really not because I think you owe me an explanation. It’s just because I’m not going to stand here and watch you drown.”

Steve let himself smile, then.

He knew that most people wouldn’t understand the relationship he had with Bucky. That they’d want to know, if you like him so much, and you have sex with him, then why isn’t he your boyfriend? Steve saw the casual assumptions that the world made about these things. He could feel in all the careless word choices and default images. Like being Bucky’s boyfriend would’ve been the ultimate in relationship status – like the only reason Steve wouldn’t claim that label was if some criteria wasn’t being met. He just knew, no one would think twice about the phrasing, have you two ever been more than friends?

…That idiom would always baffle him.

…More than friends.

And it was moments like these that reminded Steve of how very much he loved Bucky – and exactly how he loved Bucky, and just how important that was. It was every bit as much as he loved Tony… just in an entirely different way.

Tony had filled an emptiness in Steve that Bucky could never reach. There was a part of Steve that already belonged to Tony, a part of him that Bucky could never get to.

But there was a part of Steve that only Bucky would ever know – and, if anything ever happened to him, it would leave a void in Steve that even Tony could never fill.

“And, on that bombshell, you should probably go to bed,” Bucky told him. “And get rested up, so that I can grill you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Steve grinned, and struggled to his feet. He waited until he was at the door to add, softly, “thank you.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes again.

*

Twelve hours later, and Tony had never been more awake.

He’d never felt more alive than he had that night-

He’d never felt as much of anything.

He’d been excited and terrified and elated and devastated and desperate and calm – sometimes all in the same minute.

He felt every sensation more keenly, he saw everything in more detail, he could hear entirely new layers of sound echoing in the building around him. His whole body seemed to burn with a sheer abundance of everything, an energy that was created faster than he could consume it.

By the time the sun came up, Tony had paced a hundred miles. He’d tidied his workshop and reorganised his tools and cleaned the kitchen, barely aware he was even doing it. Just looking for something to do with his body, while his mind ran endless laps.

But it wasn’t the same dreary routes he’d trudged along on so many other sleepless nights. It wasn’t the obvious anxieties, the topics he might’ve expected to fixate on right now.

In those first few hours, Tony’s mind had broken free of him entirely. It ran wild, throwing up unfamiliar points as it raced into unexplored territory.

He thought about The Avengers, the politics and the philosophy and the practicalities of them, a hundred different ways they might evolve and thousand new ideas he could explore on their behalf.

He thought about his life. He just let all these unrestricted thoughts occur to him – what he really thought and why things were this way and what he could actually do about it…

He thought about Obie. Things he wouldn’t have let occur to him before… Exactly why he hated Obie, and all the different ways Obie had screwed him over, and all the arguments Tony might’ve made…

He thought about the body armour, and all the ways he could improve it, and all the other things he could make it do.

He thought about the company.

He thought about his dad.

He thought about renewable energy and feminism and the neurological basis for bias.

He thought about what it really meant to be a vampire.

He thought about whether there really was a God.

And he thought about Steve.

He imagined a hundred hypothetical futures they could possibly share. He’d panicked about every way he could potentially hurt Steve, and daydreamed about every way he could potentially please him, he’d been desperately sad to think of all the things they could never have, and overwhelmingly excited to think of everything that, maybe, they could…

He lost countless minutes just picturing Steve’s face.

He made endless lists; things he loved about Steve, things he could do to make Steve happy, things he would do to keep Steve safe.

He fell into breathless fantasies, remembering that night, imagining the things they could do…

Oh God, he actually likes me.

And then, somewhere in the middle of the morning, something had slowed. Or… mellowed, maybe. That excess of energy had finally burned itself out in a natural, satisfying sort of a way… And Tony had started to feel his mind relax… and… expand…

His mood swings started to ease and even out, eventually settling into a warm, comfortable contentment.

His thoughts had decelerated and started to drift.

His body came to a gentle, throbbing stop around him.

At around noon it occurred to him, casually, that he felt high…

At which point, he’d let himself flop out on the couch, and then spent maybe half an hour just appreciating what it was to lie down on soft fabric, and feel the forces of gravity supporting his limbs.

And then, when his mind started to wander, he just let it.

Ever since that night with Steve, Tony had been so confused and conflicted and constricted. It had always seemed like there was so much context, so much worrying and repenting to do…

But now, it was like he was just cut free of all of that stuff.

Now, Tony could simply indulge in the memory of Steve pushing into him… his perfect body, tense with need and sheened with sweat…

Tony could picture Steve’s beautiful lips… and remember the feeling of them against his mouth…and his chest… and his cock…

He could imagine all the different things he could do for Steve… all the ways he could make him feel good…

He even imagined biting him.

He didn’t even notice.

Tony just let that fantasy drift through his mind, along with everything else… Just one voice in that ever-growing chorus…

Steve.

God, he wanted Steve.

He wanted every part of Steve – any part of him.

Tony ached to touch him, to taste him, to hold him, to fuck him, to bite him.

Steve should be here.

And the only reason that wasn’t unbearable was that Tony was simply too blissed out to be beaten by anything, by then.

What Steve had already given him was powerful enough to overcome everything – even the absence of Steve.

At least for now.

“Sir? Ms Potts to see you.” JARVIS told him, interrupting another aimless daydream. Tony blinked… and smiled.

“Yeah, let her in,” he announced cheerfully, pushing himself up off the couch. God, everything was just so much easier now, like there was less gravity or something…

Tony had never really recognised that permanent grinding ache in his shoulders, until it went away…

And then Pepper strolled into the workshop, already scrolling through the items on her tablet computer.

“Afternoon,” she greeted him, her tone professional and vaguely distracted. And then she glanced up at Tony.

And she paused.

“You look well,” she observed, in an entirely different voice – narrowing her eyes at him, curiously. Tony’s smile broke into a broad grin, which he tried unsuccessfully to bite back.

“I should be offended,” he replied. “Don’t I always look well?”

“No,” Pepper answered bluntly – and Tony laughed. And then, before he could attempt to push them away from the subject, she commented, “in fact, the last time I saw you, you were borderline catatonic.”

…Ah yes. Monday evening. Tony kind of remembered Monday evening… Pepper trying desperately to get his attention, while he panicked about ‘saying goodbye’ to Steve the following night.

He genuinely couldn’t remember what she’d even come over to talk to him about. He just remembered that it wasn’t about the Avengers… He’d made sure of that, before he allowed his mind to wander…

Probably about the company, or something…

“Yeah, Monday was not a good day,” Tony conceded, with a self-conscious wince. “And I’m sorry, by the way.”

“And today is a good day?” Pepper asked, knowingly.

“Today is a very good day,” Tony beamed. “And if there was anything you actually needed my input on, on Monday, you might want to ask me again now-”

“Oh, not really,” Pepper breezed – stubbornly refusing to be distracted from the topic of Tony’s current good health. “That was just the weekly business report-”

“And today is the Avengers report.”

“…Yes, like every Thursday,” she answered, in that secretary-voice she only ever used to mock him. “So-”

“Are they okay?” Tony cut her off. She frowned, mildly confused.

“The Avengers? Yeah, they’re fine. A few routine meetings, all went as expected – no international crimes or life threatening missions, this week,” she assured him, sounding amused. And then, oh so smoothly, she added. “I should ask you, really – I think the project you’re working on with Rogers and Barnes is the most important thing on the Avengers agenda, at present.”

And Tony actually giggled.

Pepper had always been better at getting information out of him than Rhodey was – probably because she rarely outright asked him to talk about things. She was always sneakier than that. She gathered her information indirectly and subtly, with seemingly unrelated enquires and little, innocent sounding questions when he was only half listening… Tony knew she had collected all sorts of details about Steve over the course of the last few weeks, despite his best intentions.

And he had thought, vaguely, that he’d have to make a real effort to avoid the topic, when he next saw her. That he didn’t want her to know about the… latest development, with Steve, so it was probably best to avoid talking about him at all…

And he’d thought that he was unlikely to get away with it for long-

But Tony really couldn’t believe how efficiently she’d got the better of him.

“Meh, I already know all about that project,” Tony waved the enquiry aside…

Honestly, mainly, for the fun of it.

He already knew Pepper would leave with any information she wanted – she always did, and half the time he didn’t even know it.

And, truthfully, Tony didn’t care.

He knew he probably should… But, right now at least, Tony just couldn’t muster any anxiety from anywhere. It was like being drunk. He had this innate sense of security and entitlement and confidence – nothing felt like a big deal, at the moment.

He carried on with his original plan like he was playing along with it – because, hey, what else was he going to do?

“Well, there’s not much else of interest,” Pepper told him, nonchalantly. “I understand that the recon team are still gathering intel on that black-market arms ring in Turkey, that might develop into something in the next few weeks – but that’s about it.”

“And that’s a pretty small operation, all things considered,” Tony commented, to himself.

“Well, assuming that Barnes arm is fully operational by then…”

“I assume,” Tony smiled.

And then Pepper smiled back. A real smile. The one she reserved for very special moments.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” she told him, softly.

“Eh, the solution wasn’t nearly as complicated as the problem,” he replied, dismissively – and she shook her head.

“You know I don’t mean that,” she sighed.

“As long as you’re saying nice things about me,” Tony grinned. She rolled her eyes, affectionately, before she asked,

“So, are you done with them now?”

“Hm? Oh, well, Bucky will need to schedule in at least one more check-up. Assuming there are no other issues…”

“And you’d be happy to see them again? If there were… other issues?” She asked, innocently.

“…I’m not going to do half a job,” Tony answered, in a level voice. Pepper just nodded, fair enough.

“Well, I can’t stay long, anyway,” she informed him, amiably. “I’m off to DC tonight, for the product meeting that I’m sure you’ve no idea about,”

“None what-so-ever,” he agreed, brightly. “Is it important?”

“Not really,” she admitted, “But I still have to go, so. All the latest reports have been uploaded to your server… Do you have anything you want to ask about?”

And the question sprang into his mind, and then the destructive impulse to say it out loud…

The faintly amused observation that it would be really silly to say it out loud, that – if he was in his right mind – he should be outraged at himself for doing this…

Ah, what the hell.

“Why did you make a pitch for Bucky, when you’ve not spoken up for anyone else, in all this time?” He asked. And Pepper just absorbed the question, the same way she did at press conferences and board meetings and senate hearings….

But the look she gave him was personal.

“Honestly? I didn’t really make a pitch for Barnes,” she confessed. “I made a pitch for Steve Rogers.”

“…So, why?” Tony pushed on – feeling a little flutter of excitement, just at hearing Steve’s name.

“Because… I thought maybe you’d be good for him,” Pepper shrugged. And Tony felt an immediate spike of confusion, a subversion of his most basic expectations.

“…You thought I’d be good for him?” He clarified, with a frown. Pepper exhaled softly, and smiled.

“Well, I thought he might be good for you, obviously,” she began. “He seemed to understand the things that made you special, right off the bat. And the way he talked about Bucky, I just thought… that he clearly see’s the humanity in people first. So, yeah, I thought maybe he’d be good for you. But I’ve thought that about a few people, in the last ten years. I’ve met lots of people and thought they might be able to help you… But that’s no good, is it, if there’s nothing you can offer them.”

And, if Pepper had said that on any other day, Tony might have been hurt by it.

As it was, he was just intrigued. Happy to let Pepper explain what she meant.

“And everyone else, I’ve always thought… There would be so much that you could offer them, if only you would,” she went on. “It’s not that I don’t think anyone would be lucky to have you – if you’d just be you. But… I know you. And I know you’ll actively hide all that, and push anyone away, and make it so hard for anyone… And you wouldn’t want someone who’d just put up with that.”

Tony felt that, in a way that took him completely by surprise.

…That was so true, wasn’t it?

He didn’t want someone to be his saviour. He didn’t just want someone who understood, someone who would compromise… someone who would put up with him.

He hadn’t realised until this moment, but those were the exact words for that shapeless discomfort that he’d always felt… That even if there was someone who wouldn’t be disgusted by him – what sort of incentive was that, for them? What sort of relationship could there be, what possible sense of self could Tony have, if the other person simply existed to support him?

And he had always accepted that premise. Without any analysis, or even any real awareness… He’d always thought that finding someone who would agree to have him – as unlikely as that seemed – was actually a pathetic and selfish ambition. That was the foundation for all of his guilt and apprehension. The underlying assumption that Steve – that anyone – would be doing some sort of favour, or accepting some sort of sacrifice, in getting involved with Tony. That, really, he was only ever looking for someone that didn’t mind. Someone that was prepared to. Someone that wanted to help him.

And he could never bring himself to hope for someone that was prepared to throw their life away for him.

He couldn’t work out how to care for someone and not care that they were killing themselves over him – and he’d always assumed it’d take that much out of someone, to get close to him.

And Tony hadn’t even known he knew that, until right now.

But Pepper had known it, all this time…

“But then I spoke to Captain Rogers,” she carried on. “And… I think he’s lonely, too. I think he feels very different from everyone else, and I think he’s looking for the sort of answers that you could give him… I thought he’d value the way you see people. It seemed to me that he was really looking for that… And he was the first person I’d spoken to in years, and thought… You could be good for each other.”

Tony actually felt a little bit tearful, all of a sudden.

He liked that idea so very much – on every conceivable level. Logically, it made perfect sense, and instinctively it felt so right, and emotionally it made so much feel better…

He liked the idea that he could be good for Steve. That he could provide something to this relationship, that he could somehow balance this overwhelming dept he felt to Steve right now.

He was excited at the prospect of yet another argument in his favour – an argument with far more basis than anything he’d come up with. An answer to so many of the doubts he had about getting more involved with Steve.

And he was overwhelmed with admiration and gratitude and love for Pepper. For being that smart and insightful – for being that classy about it. For spending ten years on the look out for someone that would make his life better, and for not stopping until she got it exactly right.

And she’d gotten it so exactly right.

In that moment, Tony was so aware of what she’d done for him. Of all the different qualities she had and the choices she’d made that had led him to the love of his life. And against all odds. In spite of Tony’s complete reluctance, and his maddening commitment to sabotaging himself, Pepper had patiently and compassionately gifted him this.

And then she’d calmly made him feel so much better about it.

Well, that’s how it felt in the moment, anyway.

And, in the moment, Tony was so overwhelmed with feeling that he almost threw his arms around her – it was only that she kept talking.

“And, I don’t know if you’ll ever see him again… But, I guess I was thinking that, maybe, at the end of this… you’d have another friend that you could call, sometimes.”

“I fucking love you, you know that?” Tony breathed, in lieu of that hug. And Pepper just smiled, I love you too.

“Does that mean I was right...?” She asked, playfully.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Tony answered, immediately. And then he thought about it. “Well, no, what I mean is, I have no idea what the fuck is going on, or what’s going to happen. But, yeah, you were right. You always are.”

“But will you remember this the next time I have to argue with you?” Pepper breezed, and Tony laughed again.

“Probably not, no.”

They exchanged a little bit more conversation, before Pepper made her excuses. And, purely because he was feeling happy and social, Tony decided to ride the elevator with her, and walk her to the door.

“How long are you in Washington?” He asked casually, as they walked across the hall.

“Oh, only until Saturday – well, unless something comes up – ah,” she stopped herself short, shooting Tony a hesitant warning glance…

And only then did Tony recognise that he’d walked right up to the front door.

…And he never walked right up to the front door.

All of the widows in the house were made out of a specially designed material that filtered out the sunlight – and none of them opened. The only place in the building that Tony was potentially at risk of UV exposure was the main entrance, and, as a result, he’d developed an almost pavlovian response to it. Twenty years’ worth of muscle memory had always stopped him twenty feet short of this point. An instinct so deeply ingrained that even Rhodey and Pepper felt it… Hence Peppers reaction right now.

…But Tony hadn’t reacted.

Tony didn’t feel especially unsafe, even now. He only shook his head because he recognised the response he was supposed to have.

“Sorry,” he muttered automatically, as he took a token step backwards. Pepper fixed him with a curious look for a second or two, before she softened and told him,

“I’ll report back from the meeting, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back to New York.”

“Okay,” Tony smiled.

And then Pepper opened the door, and the warm, orange light of the afternoon filled the hallway.

Even standing a foot short of its direct glare, Tony felt the aura of it on his skin. The deep, baking warmth of the sun, so very close…

And he wondered…

“Speak soon,” Pepper smiled, walking out of the door.

“See ya,” Tony replied mindlessly. And then Pepper closed the door behind her…

And a cold sensation washed over Tony’s skin…

And he wondered…

Tony didn’t know how long he’d stood in the hallway, letting these thoughts drift through his head. But, at some point, they’d started to take a shape…

And…

Well…

What harm could it do, to just see if…

Tony made sure to stand a safe distance from the door frame – he had to stretch, to reach the handle. But then the door swung open, and that bright segment of sunlight appeared on the floor of the lobby…

Tony just looked at it, for a second.

And he tried to think about it. He tried to remember the context of this reaction, the objective outcome of any interaction with the sun. He tried to be sensible.

He waited for that familiar instinct, that bodily fear of it.

…He did know that it wasn’t wise to go into the sunlight…ever…

…But that instinct just didn’t kick in.

Eventually, curiosity won out.

Gingerly, Tony held out an arm, putting it right there in the direct gaze of the sun.

…And he waited.

…And he waited.

And it probably wasn’t as long as it felt.

A minute is an awfully long time, if you’re paying attention to it…

But the longer he watched, the more that excitement grew-

It didn’t hurt.

And even as one minute became two, and three…

Still, it just felt…warm.

Tony rolled his arm, letting the light hit the more sensitive skin on the underside… Not even waiting for it to hurt, anymore.

And even after five minutes… and ten…

Even though Tony had taken two steps forward now, even when the sunlight fell over his face… still, there was just that tingle of excitement…

It seemed to go on forever.

And when Tony did eventually recognise the dry, tight feeling crawling over his skin, still, he didn’t panic. It wasn’t painful, or frightening, or… unnatural.

Actually, it felt a lot like being in the sun used to feel, back when he could just get regular old sunburn…

But Tony pulled his arm back anyway, in respect to all those safeguards and assumptions he’d spent two decades building.

And then stared at the pinkish patch that had appeared on his forearm, and tried to force some feeling of regret. Like gabbing at a tooth you’re worried is loose – trying to make this revelation stronger by testing it, throwing every potential doubt at it.

And if that leaves a permanent mark, will you be sorry then?

If it starts to hurt later, will you be sorry then?

If you’ve just scarred yourself for life, on a ridiculous whim?

…But he just couldn’t make himself feel bad about it.

And then, as he was beginning to revel in the pleasant surprise of not feeling bad… he watched it heal.

Right in front of his eyes.

It just…cooled, and faded, and… then he couldn’t see it at all…

He couldn’t feel it, anymore.

But still, Tony carried on staring at it, amazed. Mesmerised. He felt as though he’d just watched a physical impossibility, a literal miracle… For a few seconds, he was just stunned.

And then there was this blooming of giddy, gleeful joy, that just seemed to consume him from the inside out. Tony was suddenly so excited and awed and happy, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted to race around the house, screaming. He wanted to fall to his knees and weep. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to dance, he wanted to tell someone-

…He wanted to tell Steve.

Tony only wanted to tell Steve, and he wanted to tell him so very much, that he already had his phone in his hand.

But then, just as his thumb was hovering over the call button, a sterner internal voice managed to get his attention.

Wait just a minute, here.

Think of the state you’re in, and the things you’ve always thought were important.

Potentially setting your arm on fire is one thing – but do you really want to risk saying something stupid to Steve?

Tony frowned at the screen.

Honestly? Yeah, he really did want to do this. There was no resistance in him, no nervousness, no real belief that anything could go wrong.

But he was completely off his box right now, he knew that.

And he remembered how much he usually worried about talking to Steve, how important it was.

And if he did call Steve right now, all he could actually think of saying was AAAAAAAA.

…He probably shouldn’t.

He huffed petulantly, and put his phone back into his pocket with a bit too much force. Sulking at himself. But, ultimately, he knew it was a bad idea

…It was almost certainly a bad idea.

He really shouldn’t…

*

When Steve finally woke up the following afternoon, he actually felt worse – at least for the first hour.

His head felt so thick and sluggish, his whole body still weighted down with the remains of sleep. It seemed to take forever for his vision to clear. When he eventually forced himself out of bed, everything felt restricted and heavy and so much more effort…

But, after a while – and two cups of coffee – he did start to feel slightly more human. He began to appreciate the effects of a good night’s sleep, to recognise that he was at least less tense and tired than he had been the day before. That was something.

And then, begrudgingly, he kicked his brain into gear. Resolving to deal with this catastrophe, like someone rolling their sleeves up in anticipation of a new day at the office…

Only to walk in and remember what a complete fucking mess he’d left, when he gave up on it the night before.

How desperately he wanted Tony, how much he needed to be with him. All the reasons that might be impossible or painful or costly. All the reasons Steve should be frightened by this reaction, all the things a previous version of him might’ve said about all this. All the ways it would kill him, if he had to walk away from Tony now.

He thought about how much he wanted to help Tony. Steve ran through all those agonies and injustices that he now felt as his own, all the challenges he had to meet for Tony, all the things he couldn’t possibly know and all the ways he could potentially make it worse.

He thought about the rest of his life. The massive list of issues he’d had before any of this happened, and all the ways they really didn’t help things now.

And then he remembered Bucky.

Steve remembered that he’d already felt guilty for ignoring Bucky. He’d been thinking that he’d have to explain some of what was going on, even before Bucky brought it up. And he’d already thought that it was going to be difficult to put into words, and there were parts of it he wasn’t comfortable sharing, and there were bits that might not be his to tell… That it was likely to be a confusing, arduous conversation, when it did happen.

But that issue did seem so much more approachable than all the others. At least Steve had some idea what he was bracing for, with that one. And at least he knew that Bucky would help him out… Steve might even feel a bit better about everything else, once he’d gone through everything out loud…

And, to be honest, it was the only item on this overwhelming list of problems that Steve felt capable of addressing. The one chance he had of ticking something off, today.

So, when he could put it off no longer, Steve showered, and dressed, and drank yet more coffee – and headed down to the breakroom. Thinking that Bucky would’ve finished his workout by now, and would be either lounging in the easy chair or trying to trick Sam out of it-

But then he bumped into Bucky on the third floor landing – and immediately recognised that Bucky was in uniform.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky greeted him, in that rushed tone of someone just on their way out the door. “I was going to call you-”

“Something happen?” Steve asked, immediately switching into his Captain America head.

“Nothing major – a development on that Turkish arms dealing thing,” Bucky answered efficiently, checking his weapons as he talked. “The retcon team think they’ve found a central server, with like, all the evidence on it, and they don’t want to risk it getting blown up when they go in to take it, basically.”

“So where are we going?” Steve questioned, as he tried to bring the details of that particular project to mind.

“Oh, I said I’d do it,” Bucky waved the enquiry aside – and when Steve frowned at him, he explained. “Well, it doesn’t take the whole team to storm a warehouse and take a computer. Nick asked for two volunteers, so I said I’d go with Sam.”

“Oh, right,” Steve blinked. And then he recognised just how much he hadn’t wanted to think about work right now. What a relief it was to have dodged that bullet… “Thanks,” he added, softly.

“Well, don’t think you’ve weaselled out of our big conversation, because you haven’t,” Bucky sighed, glancing down at his phone. “We’re back late tomorrow night, so Saturday, I’m coming for you,”

“Fair enough,” Steve laughed, momentarily distracted by the feeling of getting away with something. Then he saw Bucky shoot his phone screen an incredulous look – he could only assume in response to a message from Sam – before he glanced up at Steve apologetically.

“And I’ve got to go,” he sighed. Steve just stepped aside, amiably, thinking that he’d wait for Bucky to leave before he had another go at constructing a plan for the day. And then, just as he reached the top of the stairs, Bucky looked back at him. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am, don’t be stupid,” Steve smiled, waving him on, go, go. And then, as an afterthought, when Bucky was half way to the next floor, he called out “And don’t get killed!”

He could just about make out the sound of Bucky laughing at him, as he disappeared down the stairs.

And then there a strange, expansive emptiness just washed over him. Steve had been so focused on his immediate plan, so aware of the pressure to do something…

Now he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He glanced around the deserted lobby, energy collecting in his muscles as he thought about all the things he couldn’t do right now. And all the things he didn’t want to do, and all the things he was sure wouldn’t help… But, suddenly, he felt desperate to do something.

Now he felt awake and alert.

Now his mind felt rested, and raring to go.

…But not on anything that was actually available to him, right now.

He sighed, heavily, and resigned himself to a few hours in the gym. Which seemed like a shallow, pointless use of all this adrenaline, but he couldn’t think of anything else-

And then his phone rang.

Chapter Text

Tony wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt like this.

It felt like something he should remember, from before. From when he was young. From when he was human.

It seemed like such a very human thing, to be standing with every muscle tensed, his heart swelling to bursting point as he listened to that dial tone. Waiting for the boy he liked to answer…

But maybe this was something Tony never got the chance to do, in what little of a real life he got to have. Maybe this was something he’d only seen in movies-

And then Steve answered, all breathless and eager and adorable.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Tony repeated, a silly, giggly happiness flooding through him. He had been practising some sort of opening statement – but he’d suddenly forgotten all about that. “Are you busy?”

“The exact opposite of busy,” Steve raced to assure him. “Bucky and Sam are off on some retrieval mission, and Nat is training with the Maximoffs all week – I’m actually standing here wondering what the hell to do with my day.”

And Tony just let himself get carried away with the melody of Steve’s voice, picturing his face, the exact way he’d be standing right now…

“Why?” Steve added.

“Oh,” Tony blinked, scrabbling to remember what excuse he’d contrived to call Steve in the first place… “Oh! Yeah, I, uh, wanted to tell you about this… thing that happened…” And even as he was speaking, the enormity of it was overwhelming him. All the ways he thought of wording it sounded far too mundane. And he realised – or rather, he heard himself say-

“Do you want to come over?”

And he didn’t even have time to panic about it, before Steve was answering,

“Yeah! Um, yeah, sure – what, now?”

“Er… Well, if you’re not doing anything right now…” Tony answered, over a sudden surge of nervous elation.

Had he really just invited Steve over? Just… invited him over?

“I’m really not,” Steve smiled. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Yeah, sure, no rush,” Tony failed spectacularly at his attempt to be nonchalant.

And then there was the slightest little pause before Steve hung up.

And then Tony was just standing there, his phone still pressed against his ear, a stupid grin plastered all over his face.

He observed, calmly, that this was a very good example of the sort of thing that made him anxious. He remembered, belatedly, to ask himself, oh, what have you done?

…But he didn’t really feel that.

Those were just lines in his head, phrases he ran through like a bored child reciting the Lords Prayer for the ten thousandth time – not even bothering to think about what it meant.

Not feeling any of the anxiety he had just dutifully noted, not really asking himself why he’d done it-

He knew why he’d done it.

Whether it made sense or not, Tony just knew that he wanted Steve to be here. That everything would be even better if Steve was actually here.

Steve should be here…

…And Steve was on his way.

The relief and excitement of that – the fundamental rightness of that – was more than enough to overwhelm any sensible concerns that Tony might have had. All his usual questions and worst-case scenarios just got absorbed into the thrill of it all.

I can’t believe I’ve just invited someone over.

I can’t believe I’m going to talk to Steve about this

I can’t believe it’s just going to be the two of us, with nothing we’re supposed to be doing

…How exciting.

And then Tony felt himself bite back a smile. It was like his body had the idea before it reached his head. His lungs felt tight, and his skin felt warm, even before he’d processed that mental picture…

He thought of kissing Steve. He imagined the warmth of Steve’s lips and the firm press of Steve’s hands against his back-

And then a voice in his head, almost teasing, that’s not what you’ve invited him over for, now is it…? Like Tony was playing along with himself, enjoying the drama of this.

Of course, he hadn’t just called Steve because was about as horny as he’d ever been in his life right now. He wasn’t inviting Steve over for that…specifically. He’d called Steve because he wanted to tell him about the sunlight thing. Tony wanted to show Steve this, to share it with him, to make Steve understand the multi-layered importance of it. Tony made a point of telling himself so – in the playful tone of a parent, pretending to be strict in the build up to a big surprise.

Why don’t you just get excited about Steve coming over to see you, hm?

Concentrate on what you actually wanted to tell him.

…And if something more than that happens-

But Tony told himself not to think about that – smiling all the while. He told himself that it was nice enough that Steve was on his way over.

…And, how about that, it was actually true.

Even if Tony denied himself some of those daydreams… the ones that he was allowed were actually exciting enough.

Steve was going to turn up, any minute.

And Tony was going to be able to tell Steve – to show him – exactly what his blood meant. Or try, at least. God, he didn’t even know how to begin to explain. How it felt, to have the sun on his skin. How he’d changed, thanks Steve.

He could show Steve that.

And all of that was exhilarating and life affirming and new…

Even before Tony got to thinking that… well, this would be the first time he and Steve had actually been alone together.

That he knew Steve liked him.

That he happened to know that Steve had no gag reflex what-so-ever-

And then a more sombre voice spoke up.

But that is all you get to think about.

…It was momentarily sobering. That brief time before the fantasy, when everything is at its most real.

He made a genuine effort to pay attention to that one. Like he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to play at all if he didn’t listen to the safety briefing.

He knew, really, it was okay for him to be excited that Steve was on his way. Whatever twenty years of conditioning told him.

And he knew, really, it wouldn’t be a big deal if he did kiss Steve. That it was perfectly harmless to daydream about it, whatever little games he was playing with himself.

But he couldn’t even think about biting him.

He actually gave an earnest little nod, all on his own in the living room. That one was serious, he knew that. He’d ruin everything if he didn’t stick to that one rule.

But he could stick to that rule.

For a start, he was full. For possibly the first time ever, that gnawing background hunger just wasn’t there. Nothing ached, nothing hurt. He probably wouldn’t have to drink again for a week.

And more to the point, there were so many other things to focus on. So many new and thrilling thoughts he was allowed to get carried away with, for the first time in his life. It really wasn’t a hardship to enjoy those things, rather than sabotage them.

I understand, and I solemnly promise I will not even think about this again… now, can I please be excited about the ridiculous thing I just did?

And he smiled.

“JARVIS, how long has it been since I hung up on Steve?” he asked, impatiently.

“Fifty-two seconds, sir,” JARVIS replied, dryly.

“What?” Tony whined, looking up at the ceiling with an incredulous expression on his face. At times like this, he could swear he felt JARVIS smiling at him. A patient, affectionate sort of smile, probably.

Fifty two fucking seconds?

Oh, this was going to be a long ten minutes…

*

In fact, Steve made it to his usual parking spot in just under seven minutes – which was soon as he could possibly have been there, without endangering other drivers on the road.

And, in among all the many things he was thinking, he considered that he might be getting a bit carried away with himself. That he would probably come over as needy and weird if he literally ran to the front door. So, he forced himself to take a deep breath, and told himself to calm down-

And grinned.

Steve had just realised that he was nervous. And it was nothing like the nerves he had to power through at the beginning of every mission, or the queasy feeling he got before press conferences and government meetings and other things he just wanted to be over. It wasn’t that cold anxiety that still stalked him through personal conversations; it wasn’t the fear that something was about to go wrong. This was an electric, vital nervousness. A barely tempered excitement at the idea of something going right.

This reminded him of being a short kid from Brooklyn, before he and Bucky headed out on one of their ridiculous neighbourhood adventures.

It was like that first night in the army, when he’d been so full of desperation to succeed that he could barely sit still.

It felt like those nights during the war, when he’d catch someone’s eye from across a room and feel a spike of interest.

That surge of adrenaline when there was nothing to lose except all the things you could’ve gained, that pure and passionate hope for one particular outcome. It felt immediate, and real-

He felt part of this moment.

He liked it.

He even liked the fact that he was having to give himself a little pep talk right now. Sitting in the car, trying to keep his hands steady and telling himself not to come across as a total stalker… it all seemed very un-Captain America like.

Steve gave his head a self-conscious little shake, and made a weak attempt to wipe the grin from his face, and opened the car door with only slightly too much force. He crossed the car park at just less than a run, and managed to keep himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the door to open.

And as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he knew.

Even though he couldn’t possibly have heard Tony yet, even though he couldn’t see him, Steve immediately recognised that Tony was there. That he was coming to meet Steve at the door.

Well, that had never happened before-

And then Steve heard the speedy patter of footsteps echoing from the left-hand hallway, and then Tony all but slid across the polished floor, coming to a not-especially-graceful stop right in front of him.

“Hi,” Tony beamed, bright and excited and happy. Steve was instantly overwhelmed by affection. That same warm feeling that had flooded through him all those months ago, when he’d watched Tony sit down, cross legged, on the floor of his workshop. There was an almost childlike joy that was simply part of Tony, something that had stayed there under the surface in spite of everything he’d been through. Something that wasn’t always on display… But, apparently, Steve liked it very much when it was.

And then, as Steve was fighting an urge to cuddle him… It was like everything came into focus. All the different elements came together in one image, and Steve realised what he was looking at-

How astoundingly beautiful Tony was.

Lovelier than he’d ever been, even in Steve’s imagination. His eyes shone even brighter than they usually did, and his lips were fuller, and his skin practically glowed-

“Hi,” Steve breathed, forgetting all about his plan to try and play it cool. And he probably would’ve followed with something cringe-makingly awkward, or adorably dazed, except that Tony was too excited to leave a gap for it.

“So, I wanted to show you something,” Tony announced. “But now I’m thinking I should probably try to explain it first, or it won’t make sense why it’s such a big deal, so.”

As Tony was talking he was walking back towards the door, and Steve just followed him like a puppy. And then Tony took his position, about a foot to the left of the door frame, and gestured to Steve, come, stand here.

Steve tried to follow the instructions very seriously, thinking it might help to balance out the dizziness. Trying his best to focus on what Tony was saying, knowing that it was clearly something important-

But, Jesus, Tony was just so stunning it was hard to hear over the top of it.

And then Tony leaned over and opened the door wide – and that caught Steve’s attention.

“Woah, is that… safe?” Steve asked, before he could stop himself. His shoulders already bracing, in case he had to pull Tony away.

“Ah, well, that’s the thing,” Tony almost giggled. “Not really, no. Well, not usually. So, uh, you’ve been on missions to Ethiopia and Libya and Sudan, right? You know, places where the sun is dangerous hot?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve nodded.

“Well, think maybe just worse than that,” Tony suggested, “Like the Australian outback at noon on the hottest day of the year, or the middle of the Sahara desert – places you don’t get sent on missions, because they’re just too damn hot.”

“Okay.”

“Well, imagine the most fair skinned person you know, gets dropped buck-naked in the middle of the Sahara, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the hottest summer on record, miles away from the shade – they still won’t immediately burst into flames,” Tony explained, “But, it’s going to start to hurt pretty quickly, and it’s going to do some serious damage before too long, and – even if that person has as much food and water as they need – eventually the sun itself will kill them, you know? So, being a vampire is a bit like that. I’m not going to instantly turn to dust, like in the movies. But it’s not exactly a good idea…”

And, as he said it, he took a little step forward – and held his arm out, into the sunlight.

Steve felt his ribs clench, his whole-body tensing in sudden alarm. He stepped behind Tony, his hands braced to grab him, his eyes fixed on Tony’s arm. Waiting for something terrible to happen.

…But it didn’t.

And then Steve dared to look away, glancing nervously at Tony’s face… And he just got lost there, for a few seconds.

It was the look in Tony’s eyes. The honest, vulnerable joy in his expression, the unaffected wonder. It was beyond beautiful. Steve felt such a sense of peace when he looked at him, such a pure, unlimited happiness…

It was only that nagging worry for Tony that pulled him out of it.

“Does that… hurt?” Steve whispered, looking back at Tony’s arm.

“Nope” Tony giggled, flexing his hands. “Not yet, anyway. And I tested this earlier – it was forever before I could feel it. But that’s not even the best bit. The best bit is – it heals.”

“So, it did hurt you, before?” Steve clarified. “Eventually, I mean?”

“Well, not really hurt me, to be honest,” Tony corrected. “I think it might just have been… well, maybe not a normal reaction to the sun, but… after a while, it got kinda red. And, yeah, actually, it was sort of stupid for me to let that happen, because sunburn is a big deal for vampires. It’s the only thing that’s a big deal. Everything else heals extra fast, but sun damage? Even a slight pinking of the skin can hang around for months, or leave a scar-”

“And yet you still have your arm in the sun” Steve reminded him, his voice getting a little tighter. And Tony laughed.

“Well, my arm’s not even slightly pink yet, is it?” He observed, joyfully. But, much to Steve’s relief, he did pull his arm back. “And, I think that would take too long to show you for this to still be fun, so I guess you’re just going to have to take my word for it – it heals. It just… goes away. Like any other bruise or cut – faster that it would’ve healed when I was human.”

And then he looked up at Steve, his eyes so alive and glowing golden in the sunlight, almost too amazed to smile.

And Steve just melted. His arms fell to his side, rendered weak by the scale of his reaction.

“I mean, I’m not going to,” Tony babbled on happily, taking no particular care when he reached over to close the door. “But I think I actually could run out and get something from the car. Like it wouldn’t kill me if the ceiling collapsed right now.”

Steve felt it swell up in his chest, as he became more and more aware of what this really meant to Tony. How happy Tony was… How much better this made things…

“So… How…?” Steve questioned, cautiously. Hardly daring to hope-

“You,” Tony told him simply, with a baffled little shrug.

“Huh,” just sort of fell out of Steve’s mouth. And then he had to stop himself and swallow hard, suddenly worried he’d tear up.

“And, I don’t know if that’s just because it’s actually a healthy blood sample, as compared to the crap I usually get,” Tony carried on, “or if it’s just because of the serum, or just because it’s…you,” he laughed. “Which I know can’t really be – I mean, your blood can’t work better just because of how much I like you… Can it?”

Another surprised little noise escaped Steve – more of a squeak, this time.

How much you like me?

So, you do like me, then?

And Tony paused, and raised his eyebrows, what?

And then a more thoughtful expression came over his features, his gaze focusing on Steve’s face. And Steve was just about to worry that he’d said something wrong… when Tony smiled.

“Have I never said that before?” He asked, like he was amused at himself.

“I, uh, I don’t… not in so many…words, I don’t think…” Steve stammered awkwardly, a hot blush running up his neck-

Because, obviously, Steve was already quite sure that Tony had never said he liked him. Steve had spent hours combing through every conversation they’d ever had… Sometimes looking for that, specifically.

Steve had said it. He’d told Tony exactly why he liked him, and how, and since when… And Tony hadn’t said it back. Tony just said, okay. And Steve was still delighted that Tony had said yes, and Steve had spent a lot longer thinking about that… But, yeah, he’d also spent a few hours wondering what that silence meant. Analysing all the things Tony hadn’t said.

Except, he did just say-

“I’m sorry,” Tony laughed. “I’m really bad at this, apparently. Very out of practice, you know… But, yeah, I like you. A lot. Enough that I’m seriously wondering if it’s fixed my back pain.”

Steve breathed a very soft oh, too stunned to even think about answering. He hadn’t even gotten as far as not knowing what to say, yet.

“Because it’s not just the sunlight thing, you know,” Tony added suddenly, taking a step towards Steve. “It’s… everything. Everything is easier, and, just, better, and – it is you. Your blood. The fact that you… So, you know, I just wanted to tell you that. To show you that.”

Steve finally recognised it was his turn to talk… but he still couldn’t. There was a lump in his throat, for a start. And even if he could’ve physically formed words – what words? There were no words.

This was everything Steve had ever wanted.

There were parts of this he hadn’t even known he wanted, until this very moment. Things he hadn’t let himself want… ever. Never in his life.

Steve had always been ashamed to want too much, when other people had so little. Always embarrassed to ask for anything, even in his own head. Even if he could have come up with a moment as perfect as this, he wouldn’t have had the front to hope for it. Steve had only ever allowed himself a bargained down, compromised version of this, even in his fantasies. Always assuming he’d have to make do with so much less than this…

Same as he always had.

I know lots of people are sick, and I don’t ever expect to be ‘well’… But if I could just breathe…

I don’t expect anyone to fall in love with me or anything… But it’d be nice to have just one romantic memory…

I’m not asking to make it back from the war… But if they’d just let me go, I swear, I’d…

I know I won’t ever be special to him. I know I can’t keep him. I know I can’t make it all better… But if I could just see him again, if I could just make some sort of difference – I wouldn’t care what it cost me, or if he ever knew it was me, or if I ever got to see it

It was only now that Steve realised just how much he had wanted this. All of this.

How lost and impotent he’d felt, in this strange and distance future. How much he’d wanted some sort of meaning in his life – some purpose beyond what Captain America stood for, something he could care about for himself.

That he did want to be special to Tony, that he wanted to be the one to help him – that he wanted Tony to know. That he wanted Tony to like him.

How much Steve wanted to be in love, how much he’d wanted to feel a connection exactly like this. That he’d always wanted this desperate, passionate romance – and he knew it wasn’t mandatory, and it obviously wasn’t for everybody, and that all the other things he’d told himself were still true… But Steve had wanted it. Even when it seemed ridiculous to hope for it, even when Steve hadn’t let himself think about it… He’d always wanted this.

And now he was just… looking right at it.

It even calmed that new feeling in him. That odd little anxiety, or impulse, or… hunger… Steve didn’t know what to call it. That compulsive feeling that flared up whenever he thought of Tony drinking his blood, that… thing, that never quite went away.

It was soothed now, though.

Tony is pleased with me…

Turned out, Steve wasn’t very good at just getting what he wanted.

This might literally have been the first time it had ever happened – and least, without some awful price attached, or some dreadful trauma happening in the background.

He had no idea how to be this happy. Where to put all this feeling. What the hell to do with his face.

What could he possibly say?

“I… I’m glad,” he croaked, eventually – not sure if he could blush any more than he was.

And Tony’s smile warmed, his eyes still alive and amused and fixed right on Steve.

“Do you want to kiss me?” He asked, like he was simply curious about it.

“I – Yes,” Steve answered, far too quickly.

“So, why haven’t you?” Tony went on in that same interested tone, taking another little step forward.

“I didn’t… know if you wanted – if I…could…” Steve stammered, the tips of his ears actually burning by now, his heart beating so hard that his ribs hurt.

Wow, he hadn’t been this smooth since about the sixth grade…

But Tony just carried on smiling, and closed the gap between them completely, his chest almost touching Steve’s when he looked up and said,

“Well, I do. And you can.”

Steve felt his mind snap back into focus. An immediate shift from all those huge, life-long ideas, back to this one moment. He stopped trying to comprehend how wonderful and unlikely it was that Tony wanted to kiss him, and got to thinking that-

Tony wanted to kiss him.

Steve pulled Tony hard against his chest, one arm snaking tight around his waist, the other hand going to the back of Tony’s head, guiding him up into the kiss. He could feel Tony smiling against his mouth, warm and unhurried and playful, his fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. Steve was momentarily overwhelmed by the abundance of it. How good this felt. How much he loved Tony. How much of Tony he had, right now. Steve pulled his arm tighter around him, indulging in the solid strength of him, the perfect shape of him. Stroking his other hand down over Tony’s neck, and the curve of his shoulder, and the sweep of his back, and all those other little details that he loved so much about him. Tony hummed softly, parting his lips and kissing Steve deeper, pressing his whole body against him. And then Steve felt Tony move, that slightest hint of friction shocking through him, forcing him to break away and gasp for air.

It was only then that Steve realised his head was swimming. It took a second for his vision to clear… and then there was Tony.

And Steve had the most powerful sense of clarity. This unexplainable, unmistakable feeling that he was meant to be here. That this was the answer to every wordless question he’d ever asked himself, that this made sense of all that cruelty and confusion. And he knew he would never have been able to explain it, and it would’ve probably sounded dramatic and corny if he tried... But it was like he suddenly just understood what it had all been for. That everything he’d ever been through, however unfair or unnecessary it seemed at the time, had led him here.

And, even deeper than that… For years, Steve had been conflicted and frustrated and confused about that sense of purpose he’d always felt. Finding that he was wrong to pledge it to the US government, and wrong to pledge it to SHIELD. Wondering if he could ever be sure enough to truly commit himself to anything ever again – if he’d ever really be at peace, if he couldn’t. Knowing there was still that sense of duty in him, that nameless calling towards some higher meaning.

What if this was it? What if this was what he was meant for, all this time…

And then Tony’s smile broke into a grin – which hit Steve in a far more basic, physical place than wherever those high-minded musings had come from.

“Hey, you wanna come see my room?” Tony suggested in a playful tone.

“Uh-huh” Steve nodded-

Trying to remember how the fuck his legs worked.

*

While they were in the elevator, Tony did pause to consider that this was all very… different, to how things usually were.

That he wouldn’t usually act this way.

That he never felt like this.

That this might all be the result of the inhibited intoxication that was still flowing through him… A feeling that had only grown stronger since Steve had turned up, increasing at about the same rate as Tony was losing himself. Scientifically speaking, it was highly likely that Tony was under the influence of something right now, that his choices and thought processes were all being influenced by that…

But this just felt more like coming out of a trance than falling into one.

Tony felt like he could see things more clearly now. And it wasn’t just that he was more aware, or more awake, or because his senses had all improved – this was a more cerebral thing. Like the moment when he finally worked out the crucial flaw in a complex theory, but applied to his entire life. A dawning sense of realisation…

And suddenly just…getting it.

Seeing his life, understanding what he’d been looking at all this time. It was like he’d been agonising over a puzzle for twenty years only to realise it was upside down. This one burst of revelation had made sense of a thousand impossible questions. Things that were once so complicated and unfixable seemed to just fall into place, forming an obvious pattern, a self-balancing equation.

And maybe that was how it felt to be high. He noted that possibility. But he just couldn’t unsee this – he couldn’t fathom how’d he’d ever unsee it, now that he knew it was there.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how he was supposed to be.

That feeling of confidence, and playfulness, and maybe a little bit of risk taking… was that what he would have been like, if Obie hadn’t taken everything from him? Is this the personality he would’ve had, the way he would have acted, if he’d not isolated himself from the world for two whole decades?

Even though this was all so unlike him, so different from anything he’d done in the last twenty years, it still seemed so natural. Like coming home. Even though he hadn’t been in this head for so very long, and even though he had a whole other life he’d built somewhere far, far away… he could never really be a guest here. There was some part of this he felt at ease with, entitled to, even though it made no sense. Some part of it that felt more familiar, more fundamentally ‘right’, than the way he’d done things his whole adult life.

And, when he did briefly think back to his earlier intentions, and remembered that he wasn’t supposed to jump Steve within five minutes of him arriving… It was like remembering part of a dream. That momentary confusion when you remember the exam you were driving to or the goat you were supposed to keep an eye on or the fact that your mom is having an affair with your geography teacher – that same amused realisation that, obviously, that wasn’t real.

Tony couldn’t even remember why he’d thought he shouldn’t kiss Steve – only that it had seemed to make sense, in the dream.

And that sense of clarity carried on growing and expanding, far beyond its own parameters. The realisation of who he really was, and how he would naturally respond, and how he really saw things, suddenly helped him to see things beyond himself.

It helped him to see Steve.

Tony really thought he was just going to step forward and kiss Steve. Seeing the world as it actually was, it seemed such an obvious thing to do – so obviously what he would do. He wanted to, he knew Steve wanted to, he knew he could… But it was only at the last second, when he glanced up at those beautiful lips – and saw the specific little smile, and then the look in Steve’s eyes…

And it was like he knew exactly what Steve was thinking. Like he could actually feel what Steve felt, just then.

And Tony had just recognised, no, you should ask him to kiss you.

As coherent and cognisant as any thought that had ever come into his head – a hell of a lot more sensible than half the bullshit he’d been thinking for years, he realised now.

He knew what this moment meant to Steve… and why. Tony knew what specific need this helped to meet…

And then he saw that need, there under the surface… that had always been there…

God, how had he missed that?

The elevator came to a soft stop beneath their feet, and Tony glanced up at Steve in time to see Steve staring straight ahead with a very specific focus.

It was the strangest feeling… and yet so perfectly obvious.

Feeling like this was the first time he’d ever looked at Steve – and still feeling like he knew him so well.

Suddenly understanding how nervous Steve was, how lonely he was, how much he needed this… what he needed from this…

Remembering every interaction they’d ever shared in one instant rush, suddenly seeing what should’ve been obvious at the time.

This beautiful, rare human being, still trying so hard and caring so much, in spite of everything.

All those awful traumas, that only cut deeper because of Steve’s inherent goodness – the same goodness that led him to cover it all up, pretend it wasn’t there, fight on in spite of it.

So brave.

So soft, still.

…It was Tony’s job, to look after Steve.

If there was something Steve needed…

And Tony knew exactly what Steve needed.

The elevator dinged cheerfully, and the doors slid open. Tony saw Steve take a little breath and set his shoulders before he dared to look at him.

And Tony smiled.

He took Steve’s hand… deliberately squeezing just a bit too hard. He saw that exact thrill flash up in Steve’s eyes – exactly as he knew it would. And then he tugged at Steve’s arm.

“Come.”

Chapter Text

It was the specific tone of Tony’s voice. Rich and warm and almost dangerous…

Come.

A part of Steve responded to that, instantly and instinctively and physically. A little tug from somewhere deep in his hips, a shiver that seemed to run under his muscles. And yeah, it was without question the hottest damn thing Steve had ever heard – but it was more than that. Suddenly, this was about more than sex. More than love, even.

At some point between the hall and Tony’s bedroom, they’d stepped into a different space entirely. Or a higher space, maybe. Because all those other reactions and priorities were all still there – how much Steve loved Tony, and how much he wanted Tony, and how happy Steve was, were all still a part of this moment. But now it was like Steve could see all parts of it, how everything fit together…