Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is getting to him, goddammit.

Afghanistan. Loki. Extremis.

All the “little” guys that popped up in between, causing only a “little” damage, costing a relatively small “just a few million” and a never small enough number of causalities.

Especially when it came to his team.

Nat’s cracked cranium, Rhodey’s painful journey through physical therapy after a bomb that was too much even for the Iron Patriot, Clint having to undergo surgery to repair his common flexor tendon, that time that even the Hulk couldn’t entirely protect Bruce from the beatings he endured. Only Steve yet remained untouched. They were resilient, but most of them were just human, and all of them had started that way.

Tony couldn’t pretend that his own mortality wasn’t dropping by occasionally, to remind him of his limited existence. Tony was…well, he was certainly middle-aged. Not that he was out of the loop, oh no. Tony was more modern than the iPhone that was going to be released in 2020, because he was already thinking fifty—no, a hundred years ahead of that. But at the rate he was going, the damage to his heart wouldn’t get the chance to finally kill him, and one day, one day scarily soon, a new alien looking to take over might do it for him.

So he retrieved the small notebook and the solid livermorium box that had taken the destruction of his childhood home for him to discover. His father clearly never meant for it to see the light of day, and Tony had the feeling that he had hidden it during one of his numerous drunken benders that resulted in explosions from the underground lab that rocked his bedroom on the 8th floor. The small (but heavy, oh so heavy, with physical and metaphorical weight) package was a secret even from Jarvis, from Dum-E, from S.H.I.E.L.D, from Cap, even from Nat. He avoided even thinking about it with her in the same building, just in case. He had no proof, but he was pretty sure she could read minds.

After the fiasco of losing the serum that turned Steve from a tiny kid from Brooklyn into a tall, Adonis of American justice, Howard Stark had been anything but idle in recreating and refining it. However, shortly before completing the project that could’ve literally changed humanity, Steve Rogers, that boy from Brooklyn, crashed a plane of explosives into the ocean and disappeared for 70 years. He never asked, because you just didn’t ask Howard Stark many questions, but something about Cap’s “death” destroyed his ability to continue on with the project, and caused him to switch from bioengineering to technology, prompting breakthroughs of pretty much every kind, years before such things were thought possible, much less probable. Tony had always vaguely regretted that his father didn’t get to see the age of the internet usher in, the age of smartphones and technology he only wrote about, but couldn’t achieve.

After he had found it and managed to open the box (he had to wonder how his father even sealed the damn thing, he only managed to open it without destroying the contents by using a laser he designed based on Asgardian technology), he worked on it in secret, saying he was “going out”, sending a stunt double in his place, and heading to his secret lab. Well, his most secret lab. A guy like Tony Stark had to have layers of secret labs, okay? While his stunt double was out partying it up (in a much more tame manner than how the real Tony Stark partied back in his day), he was working on refining, completing, and making plans to implement what his father had done, and the scientists before him. It was slow going. Without his bots to help, he had to do everything by hand. It reminded him of building his first computer out of spare parts when he was six. Or, you know, that time he built Iron Man in a cave. But whatever. It also reminded him that he was getting a little bit lazy in the day-to-day, as fetching his own equipment every few minutes grew laborsome.

But Tony wasn’t just looking for the ability to grant immortality, good looks, and strong as hell biceps with the serum. He was looking to do that, but more mundane stuff, like regenerating tissues at a lightning fast rate. Like slowing, rather than completely stopping, the aging process. Extending lives and making them more healthy and comfortable. And, reversing the process. That last bit was so secret that he barely admitted it to himself. He knew that Steve had a hard time emotionally with his perceived immortality, which Tony privately felt had been tested entirely too much. If, and only if Steve wished to go back to a normal life, well, a relatively normal life, because the serum had altered his every cell and the fundamental nature of his cells, and while Tony might be able to completely reverse the process, he couldn’t figure out a way to do it without Steve immediately and rapidly aging into an old man and dying. Which Tony obviously didn’t want. And besides, it would be downright criminal to deprive the world of those abs…wait what? Anyway, back to a normal life where he could get married and grow old with someone, but only after they were done saving the world of course.

Tony had made some remarkable strides, but what he needed were test subjects. He took a break that lasted nearly six months while he mulled it over, because the only options truly available to him were either to test it on himself (something he could feel Natasha punching him out over it just by thinking of it), or to test it on animals, preferably primates.

Tony ate a mostly vegan diet out of health concerns, rather than ethical ones, but still. Animal testing was not something that his scientific adventures had ever led him to. Also, creating super solider monkeys was just asking for trouble. But, eventually, he did place an order for several chimpanzees and bonobos.

The monkeys were a lot of work, because if he was going to do this animal testing thing, he was going to do it right. Well, as right as possible. Not that doing animal testing right was possible. But, you know. He donated a large chunk of money to the World Wildlife Fund shortly after he got his order confirmation. He also set to work building several robot caretakers and creating a habitat that they would be comfortable in. It was such a headache, he had to buy a new super-secret but temperate property, convert it, build the robots, stock it, teach the robots, and then settle the monkeys into their life, and try to not feel too guilty about the protocols in place in case anything went south. By the time he had his monkeys and he felt safe leaving them with the new bots (Jane, Tarzan, and Jeff) another almost six months had passed, and he was another year older. He had a mild panic attack at the grey hair that now complimented the black. And he resolved to begin testing.

He instructed the new bots to contact him the second one of the monkeys was injured. After a dispute over some papaya, he had confirmation that the serum he had isolated to exclusively heal the body worked. He should’ve felt more relieved, but in truth he spent several days improving the enclosures…just in case of any side effects.

After coming home from his “bender” and nursing his “hangover”, Captain Righteous himself came to see him in his lab. Tony was catching up on work for Pepper, having Jarvis run simulations, directing Dum-E and You to start framing a prototype, repairing some circuiting with one hand and drinking straight out of the coffee pot with the other, all while a Metallica CD blared. Jarvis, the traitor, didn’t even warn him about Steve’s approach.

“Stark!”

Tony decided to ignore him. He was a bit distracted after all, and he really didn’t want to fuck up this wiring. Again.

“Tony, we need to talk.”

Again, he ignored him, gesturing to the bots, ordering Jarvis around, and muttering to himself about polarities and circuits. Steve slowly approached (having previously learnt his lesson about surprising Tony in his lab) and gently pried the coffee pot from his left hand. Tony wanted to blast him with the suit. Tony didn’t like people touching his coffee.

“That’s not very sanitary you know. Barton drinks that coffee too.”

Tony shot him an annoyed look. “Dum-E broke the one I had down here and I haven’t had time to replace it. Every time I get my to-do list down to only a dozen or so things, Pepper and S.H.I.E.L.D. decide to unload a hundred more on me and something new attacks New York. I can only defy the laws of physics and time without caffeine for so long.”

“Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. You go out for days, partying god-knows-where, we barely hear from you, if at all, and then when you come home you don’t sleep, you barely eat, and you rarely leave the lab. It’s been getting worse in the last six months. It used to be only a few times a year, and now it’s nearly every week. Tony...I know you’re better, but as the team Captain I’ve gotta know, are you drinking again?”

Tony was calculating that the suit was less than 50 yards away, and it can move safely at 200mph to reach him, minus the 2.2 second delay for it to be released from its cell, he could put it on in less than 8 seconds now, minus a few moments to adjust…but it would still be a good fifteen seconds until go, and Cap was close enough that his reaction time was in the millisecond category…sigh.

“Jarvis! Please print the record for the decade or so of near daily blood alcohol tests, indicating the night Pepper and I celebrated our engagement two years ago with a glass of champagne, the last time I consumed alcohol since Capsicle over here was kind enough to defrost, if only a little.”

“Right away, sir.”

Tony turned back to his wiring without a word, barely flinching when the door to his lab quietly shut several minutes later, the pages left untouched and still-warm on the printer. He set the wiring down with a sigh. “Jarvis, Lockdown protocol Howard Stark Jr., code: Delta India Charlie Kilo 8514.”

“Right away sir.”

“Dum-E, can you get me the pizza from the fridge?”

Dum-E beeped in response, hurrying to fetch the pizza and heat it up in the microwave. Tony spent the rest of the evening eating old, greasy pizza, pondering the super solider, and wondering why the hell he even cared what he thought anyway, before falling asleep on the ancient couch he kept down there, Dum-E under one arm and You cuddled against his legs. Steve, having been informed by Jarvis that the lab was in lockdown but that ‘sir’ wasn’t in any danger, settled on the couch in the living room with his sketchbook and a sigh, to wait for Tony to resurface. He had to eventually; after all, there was no coffee pot down there.

Chapter Text

Tony awoke in the middle of the night with a stiff back and a serious thirst. Thank god that Dum-E had behaved tonight and was on his charging station like a good bot.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Unlock the lab. I think I'll try to sleep in a real bed for a few hours," he twisted, cracking his back. "Maybe I'll even have breakfast with everyone in the morning."

"Right away sir, and may I say that you're full of bright ideas tonight."

"Shut up."

"As you wish, sir."

Tony made his way up the stairs, shuffling along quietly. His heart went into overdrive at the sight of a dark figure on the couch, but he quickly realized that it was just Steve. He at one point must've been sitting up and sketching, but he'd slumped over the side of the couch, his neck in a terrible-looking position, and his sketch pad upended on the floor.

Tony knew that he should just keep walking and mind his own business. But he didn't.

Instead, in the most quiet and gentle manner he could manage, he grabbed a quilt from the back of the couch and draped it over Steve's body, goosebumps evident on his skin. Tony knelt and picked up the sketch pad to set it on the side table, but he quietly gasped at the pencil drawing he found there. He scrunched his face in confusion and blinked to clear his eyes, but yeah it was definitely a drawing of him. He was sitting in his lab in his ratty sweats and white tank top, with a coffee pot in one hand and a screw driver in the other. His face looked happy, like he was explaining an idea that he was excited about. Dum-E and You were in the background, fighting over rebar. The only color was the glow of the arc reactor, done with a light blue pencil. He touched it gently, tracing the reactor and smoothing the slight bend in the paper from falling on the floor. It captured him almost perfectly, minus the stains on his clothes and the dark circles under his eyes. And, if Tony was being honest, he wasn't quite that fit in real life. But who was he to argue with a little flattery?

He was going to flip through the rest of the sketches, but Steve shifted in his sleep, letting out a sigh, so Tony hurriedly closed the book and set it on the side table. He hesitated, before carefully wedged a pillow under Steve's head as if it was a bomb, waiting for him to wake up at the movement. He didn't so Tony told him quietly, "Your neck is gonna kill you in the morning, I'm trying to help."

He watched him sleep for a moment, until the creepiness of the action prompted him to apologize. Thank god Steve wasn't awake to hear it. "Sorry, I'm…I'm sorry. For staring at you, and for being an ass earlier. Mind you, I'm not the only ass around here, there's quite a few and I'm the one taking care of all of them." He ran a hand through his hair. God he needed a trim. "I know it bothers you all, but I stay in the lab all the time because I have a hard time with people…with friendships. I'm not used to them. This is still new, to me."

Steve moved again, hugging the pillow closer to him, but his pale eyelids remained blessedly closed. He looked so peaceful, a gentle smile touching his lips as he slept. His hair wasn't slicked back in the customary Captain America swoop, and it fell in golden waves across his face. It looks good that way, Tony thought. He shook himself.

"Shit, I've gotta get a grip. I'm talking to Cap. In his sleep. About my feelings. Christ."

He turned to go. "Night, Steve."

After a few minutes, when Tony was too far away to hear, Steve replied in a soft voice. "Night,Tony."

Tony felt oddly refreshed that morning. He actually joined the team for breakfast (an assortment of foods curtesy of Clint and Steve), had a stylist come trim his hair (at a certain income bracket, people come to you. Even on Sundays), and been talked into sparring with Nat in the gym for a few hours (ouch!), before heading down to his lab.

S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted demagnetized metal, and while he had explained that it was impossible, he was making remarkable progress in the matter. The problem was that his solution could be easily countered, he could remagnetize it in seconds if it was used against him, so he still had some tinkering to do.

He was currently playing with the device he had created, programming it to cycle various electromagnetic fields at a rate of 1/0.05 seconds, when Jarvis spoke.

"Sir, the Captain is asking to come down to the lab. He says that he doesn't want to disturb you."

"Didn't stop him last night," he muttered, before saying louder. "Tell him to come on then."

A minute later and Steve stepped down the stairs, in shorts and a t-shirt damp from sweat. Tony didn't understand his devotion to exercise. The serum didn't require any extra work to keep him looking like Hercules realized. Surely he knew that?

"You know, the serum keeps you at your physical peak automatically. You don't actually have to work out all the time to maintain your…to maintain yourself."

Steve scratched the back of his neck and gave him a small, embarrassed smile. "Uh, well, I didn't actually know that. I mean I sorta guessed, but…"

"No one told you about the serums effects?"

"Not really. I went from being Private Rogers, only three weeks into basic training, to lying on a table in a lab hidden beneath an antique shop, overnight. I never asked, but I got the impression that they didn't want me backin' out."

"My dad was an ass, I'm sorry. Well, I tell you what I know—"

Steve's eyes narrowed a fraction. "He was a good man. We were at war, it was a different time."

"As his son, I feel like I probably knew him better than you. I'm just saying." Steve's jaw clenched, but he decided to let it go. "Anyway, I'm sure you're aware of your fast healing powers. Beyond that, extended lifespan, again, obvious, um, you don't need to eat to live, though without nourishment you'll fall into a coma-like state, much like you did before. You don't need to exercise to maintain your physique, which was obviously enhanced by the serum to physical perfection. There's also enhanced intelligence, eyesight, hearing, you don't need as much sleep…hmmm, then there's the fact that you can withstand more pain, higher and lower temperatures, your endurance is off the charts…Jarvis, am I forgetting anything?"

"No, sir, you seem to have remembered everything you currently know about Captain Rogers' physicality." Tony rolled his eyes at Jarvis's word choice. "Would you like for me to print the specifics for Captain Rogers?"

"No thank you, Jarvis, that won't be necessary," Steve said.

Tony went back to fiddling with the demagnetizer.

"What are you working on?"

"Er, no offense, Cap, but I don't think this is really your thing."

"So make it my thing. Explain it to me. I probably won't understand 90% of what you say, but I'm trying to learn. I finally figured out the TV recording thing the other day, did I tell you?"

Tony smiled. "The DVR?"

"Yeah, that. Thor wanted to record his shows while he went home for a few days."

"Is he still watching "Cake Boss"?"

"Yeah, that and about a dozen other shows that he insists are amazing. Television sure has come a long way, and there are some interesting shows, but I just don't get the appeal of reality TV."

"Hey, you gotta take the good with the bad, Cap. Welcome to the 21st century, we've got incredible life-saving technology, and "Duck Dynasty"." Tony rolled his eyes and they laughed together. "Okay, I'll try to explain it to you, if I lose you, feel free to tune out. Most do. Anyway, S.H.I.E.L.D. wants something to stop Magneto or any old criminal with a big magnet from being able to render guns and most technology useless, so I'm trying to create a demagnetizer that'll prevent that."

Steve frowned. "But the last time we fought Magneto he couldn't control my shield. Or, to think of it, your suit."

Tony gave him a half grin. "Your shield is composed of a non-magnetic metal. As is my current suit, and nearly all of them. I didn't come up with the name Iron Man, you know."

"Then what's it made out of?"

"A vibrainium alloy, just like your shield."

"But I thought that was really rare?"

"Oh it is, and with the exception of your shield, I own it all. I have enough for three suits at one time, and maybe enough for another shield or some small weapon. I considered making a shield, but then the whole team would want one, and that's kind of your thing so…"

"Well uh, thanks. I think."

"No problem."

Tony explained the demagnetizer as best as he could, and the trouble he was having with it. Steve just let him talk, he sat on the couch and kept Dum-E occupied so he wouldn't annoy Tony.

When dinner time rolled around, Steve managed to force Tony to eat, using his iron grip to pry Tony from his prototype of the demagnetizer.

"Jarvis! Jarvis I'm being manhandled! Attacked! Help!"

"Sir, forgive me if I don't take your distress seriously. You generally enjoy being manhandled, though it usually takes place in your bedroom."

Whether or not it was what Jarvis intended, it did result in Steve releasing Tony as if he was on fire, his cheeks tinged a bright pink.

"Jarvis, come on now, play nice with Steve. He's an innocent."

"I apologize, Captain Rogers. I have been with sir for many years, and I have to say he's rubbing off on me."

Fortunately, that double entendre slipped by Steve.

There was some surprise at Tony joining them for dinner. Natasha quirked her brow, Bruce gave him an analyzing look, and Clint congratulated Steve for getting Tony to act like a human. Thor was currently in Asgard. Hopefully making sure that Loki is well locked away, Tony thought.

Since he had bypassed lunch entirely, Tony ate everything that Steve put on his plate, and then some. He and Clint got into a small knife fight ("Calm down, Bruce, they're just butter knives—ouch! Dammit Barton!) over the last piece of garlic bread, which Natasha settled by eating it.

After dinner, their teammates slowly drifted away. Bruce left to go do some meditation, muttering something about the team being worse for the Hulk than any villain. Natasha went…went to do whatever it is that she does. Creepy, untrustworthy, spy-stuff in Tony's opinion. He always had Jarvis keep an eye on her, but that didn't mean she wasn't up to something nefarious while appearing to simply read a book. Clint swooned over having the TV to himself for the night, and ran to the living room to watch some horrible show that pitted amateur fashion designers together. Or at least, that's how Tony described it to Steve, ignoring the fact that he often stopped and watched for several minutes if it was on (sometimes longer).

That left Tony and Steve at the table together, the laughter from their conversation fading into silence as they stared at each other, finishing their meal.

"I think we've been set up, Rogers," Tony said, realizing that the rest of their team had slipped away so that they could eat their dessert together. The team knew that they had been fighting lately, and they were currently trying to mend their issues, or at least successfully ignore them. It felt awkward sitting at the table with Steve without other people or his bots or a mission to buffer it. What did they expect from him, he was terrible at interpersonal relationships, a fact they should all know well by now. He had even managed to drive away the one person besides Jarvis who really understood him. He wasn't in love with Pepper anymore (he wasn't sure he had ever been, in truth), but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

"Yeah, I think so. Not that you're gonna be much help, Stark. No offense, but I've never seen you be good at this." He stood up and started gathering the dishes, not seeing the hurt look on Tony's face.

"Jeez, Steve. You really know how to hit a guy where it hurts—"

"What, you think you have to be good at everything? 'Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist,' remember? I may've been in a deep freeze during your childhood, but I'm pretty sure you never washed a single dish. Actually, have you ever washed dishes?"

"Wait, what? What does that have to do with anything?" Tony asked, confused (and a little insulted), I thought we were talking about…

"No need to get defensive. I'll do the dishes, but Barton has another thing coming if he thinks I'm doing them tomorrow night."

Oh…we're talking about the dishes. Doing the dishes. Not...not the other thing. Wait a second… "I've done dishes before you know. Just because I'm usually too busy building the tech that saves our asses and, I don't know, like the whole world, to even bother to eat, doesn't mean I haven't washed dishes before."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Well then come and help me, Barton used a dozen pots when he could've used two."

"I think you're exaggerating, but I'll help you out this one time, Rogers."

Tony carries his ice cream bowl to the sink. "Do you want me to wash or dry?"

Steve points to the stack of already-washed dished, "Dry, please."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Tony gives him a little salute, with a grin. He picks up a dish and a towel and starts drying, but not before he hip-bumps Steve, grinning at him. Steve grins back, but doesn't return the hip-bump and Tony frowns, confused that he didn't take revenge.

They continue doing the dishes in a companionable silence. For some reason, despite the fact that they had a perfectly good dishwasher, Steve insisted on washing everything, and when the final bowl was handed to Tony to rinse and dry, he was glad because his hands were getting prune-y. Before he could dump the soapy water though, Steve hip-bumped him, causing Tony to jump in surprise and spill the soapy water all over himself. Without thinking if he was going to start a war, he flicked some water right into Steve's face, making him laugh.

Tony finished rinsing and drying to bowl, watching Steve carefully out of the corner of his eye for any sudden movement. When he finished, he backed away to face Steve.

"Well, I guess this is my cue to shower and go to bed." Tony said, still backing away towards to exit of the kitchen.

"So early?" Steve just leaned against the counter, looking perfectly innocent.

"Yeah, I gotta get beauty rest for this date tomorrow," he said with a sigh, scratching his arm. "Rhodey keeps telling me how haggard I look and it's beginning to wear at my ego."

"You don't look haggard, you look—wait, date tomorrow? But that's when we rescheduled for training at S.H.I.E.L.D. all day, we even changed the time to later in the day for you."

"Well, uh, not that I don't appreciate the thought, but I'm pretty certain that no one told me. Or they didn't tell Pepper or Jarvis, who we all know are more in control of my life than I am."

Steve realized with a jolt that he actually didn't tell Tony. He'd just assumed he wouldn't have plans, and there would be less whining about training if he sprung it on him last minute.

"Well, you're going to have to cancel. You have to be at the team training session tomorrow, we begin at one and probably won't be done until nine or later, from the schedule Hill and I outlined."

Tony's face hardened, his every instinct bucking from being told what to do. There was pretty much nothing he hated more than being told he had to do something, or being forced to do something. Despite what everyone thought, he was not a child, and being treated like one was insulting. He knew that being contrary didn't really help, but he's Tony fucking Stark, if he's not allowed to be eccentric, who is?

"Sorry Cap, but it's a bit late for that now. Playboy I may be, but I do try my best to not be unforgivably rude to my dates. I'll just leave a few hours early. Not a big deal."

"Yes it is a big deal," Oh ho, Steve was breaking out his Captain voice, his arms crossed and everything. Not a good idea. "See, this is what I was talking about. Do you even care about the team, or do you just want your name on the news for something positive for once?" Tony flinches. Steve's voice softens a tad and he sighs. "Every time you do something like this, all I can think about is how you're tarnishing your father's legacy and…and I'm glad he isn't here to see it."

The comment about not caring about his team hurt, but his father was another level of off limits. He didn't talk about Howard, and no one was allowed to talk about the subject to him. How many interviews had he walked out on due to that line of questioning? Enough for Pepper to force him into therapy, not that it helped much. He had thought that Steve understood that that was off limits. Apparently not.

"My father's legacy? Oh my god Rogers you knew him for about three seconds when he was still a young idealistic prick. You wanna know my father's fucking legacy?"

Steve just blinks at him, confused about the sudden anger.

Tony walks right up to him, uncrossing his arms and poking him hard in the chest. "You. You're my father's legacy. He never stopped searching for you, he spent countless hours and millions of dollars searching for you, and yet he didn't have a second to spare for nurturing his own son."

"He was a busy man, Tony," he said, exasperated. "What, you want my pity? Your father was rich and brilliant, just because he was busy with more important things than praising your spoiled ass—"

"Oh, so that's what they called it in the forties. Rogers, I don't want your fucking pity, I want you to stop running your mouth when you don't know shit. Maybe you don't have any issues with child abuse, with forcing your kid to do pony tricks with his five year-old genius brain or else he gets a beating, but it seemed pretty fucked up to me. Maybe that was perfectly fine back then, but nowadays that's considered a terrible crime."

The color drained from Steve's face, but Tony didn't notice, he was too far gone in his own anger and pain. "You remind me so much of him. I never did one single thing that made Howard happy. Who cares that I built a super computer when I was six from spare parts and an old heater. And who cares that I finally found you, finally succeeded where my father failed? Too bad he wasn't here to see it. I may've been the only son he had, but you were obviously the one he wanted. But you know, maybe you should be mad at me. If I hadn't kept looking for you, if I had just left you in the ice, you might actually be happy and you wouldn't have to put up with me."

With that, Tony spun on his heel and left, Jarvis already opening the elevator. It closed behind him and Steve sagged into the counter, his eyes suspiciously damp.

Steve's hearing picked up a noise behind him. He turned to see Natasha appearing out of the dark. "You really fucked that up, Captain."

"Maybe you shouldn't listen in on other people's conversations, Romanov."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't, I just got back from the gym and I heard the end of your conversation. Maybe you shouldn't pick fights in a public area."

"I wasn't—I wasn't picking a fight. You heard him, he just went off! Stark is crazy, which you should know, you did his assessment and evaluation."

"Which assessment?"

"What do you mean which one?"

"There was the initial assessment, which I was under orders to exaggerate. Also, he was fucking dying. Then there's the real assessment, which I gave you when we started the Initiative."

Steve blanched, his mouth falling open. "Dying? What do you mean dying?"

Natasha sighed and suppressed another eye roll.

"Dying, you know, the state which leads to death? Ring a bell? I get that Stark has trust and self-esteem issues, but this is a known incident."

"Tell me what happened." Steve said, in his serious Captain voice, which tended to annoy, rather than intimidate Natasha.

"The substance powering his arc reactor, palladium, it was poisoning his body. It was pretty bad, he almost died, and S.H.I.E.L.D. only had something to help with the side effects, not cure it. We brought the matter to the attention of our best scientists, but they didn't have a clue."

"But he's okay now?"

"Yeah, he invented a new element to power it. From what he told me, this new element is a major upgrade for him. It's what this entire tower runs on."

"The tower runs on his heart?" He looked at the lights with concern, his eyes flicking to every electrical object that was plugged in.

"Of course not, it runs on a separate unit."

"Oh."

Natasha suppressed yet another eye roll. Honestly, the sooner Steve got a clue, the better. All his overprotectiveness of Tony was wearing on her. "You know…despite my background as a spy, which essentially means I've told more lies than truths, I think this team would be better off if we all shared more about ourselves."

Steve huffed, "Yeah, but I don't think Tony is up to sharing. I mean really, apparently he was dying and he didn't think to tell any of us?" He ignores the fact that Natasha knew. For some reason, it hurts deep in his chest that Tony would trust her and not him, but he figures that it's nigh impossible to keep anything from her. If he's the super solider, she's the super spy.

"That's just who Stark is, Cap. I don't actually know of an instance where he asked for help. Help kind of has to be thrust upon him."

Steve let's out a disgruntled noise that's more of a whine than a groan. He stands against the counter, his posture still slumped, while she fixes a cup of tea. She takes a sip and finally relaxes. She starts to leave, but figures she'll try to help one more time tonight, and turns to ask him, "Is it really that big of a deal if he misses the last three hours? That's usually when we do hand-to-hand combat anyway, so we're prepared and not worn out. He doesn't have much to do on that front since he usually fights from the air."

"Yes! What if we needed him?" Steve is instantly indignant, his serum-enhanced stubbornness coming out again.

"If we really needed him, he'd be there, Steve. And that fact that you don't seem to know that says a lot more about you than about him. Read my assessment for Christ's sake."

Steve blushes and looks away, "I thought it was just a copy of what I'd already read."

"Well now you know better. Read it, I'm going to bed."

And with that he was alone in the kitchen. He thought about staying there to wallow, but he eventually made his way upstairs to retrieve Tony's file which was becoming thicker all the time, holding his mission reports and any other information that Steve (and S.H.I.E.L.D.) felt was pertinent. He settled into his couch and began to read...

Tony had marched off to his room angrily, and he was now regretting it. He had been tired, but between the adrenaline, the hurt, and the contemptuous expression that had been on Steve's face, he knew he wasn't going to sleep a wink. He was lying down on his $20,000 bed, his arms folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling and wished that he had went to his workshop instead. But he was stuck here, because he didn't want to risk going downstairs and running into Steve, who Jarvis said was still in the kitchen. He needed to have an elevator that went straight to his lab. At the time, making all visitors go through the stairs seemed like a good security protocol, but now it just seemed paranoid and stupid.

"Jarvis, has he gone to bed yet?"

"Not yet, sir. You already have asked that I tell you when he does. Rest assured, I will not fail in that simple task."

Jarvis sounded a little snappy. Tony sighed, bored out of his mind even though he had only been in his room for half an hour. He drummed his fingers on his arm, tapping out a staccato beat that was a line of code written in binary.

Since it's still a reasonable time in California, he decides to call Pepper so she can cancel that date. He was pissed that Rogers thought he had a right to order Tony around out of the field, but he was grateful for an excuse to cancel the date. His dating life was not yet pathetic enough to warrant blind dates. Or so he told himself.

"Wear the grey suit, the Armani one," she says, as soon as she answers.

"Actually, I'll be wearing the Iron Man suit. Call her and cancel, I'll send flowers if you give me her name."

"What? You can't cancel, she's already scheduled her flight to New York for this date. You promised me you wouldn't back out of this, Tony."

"First of all, that promise was made under duress. You were being threatening and taking up my time when I was working. I can't be held responsible for anything I said. Second of all, I apparently have training to attend, according to Captain Stick up my Ass."

"Tony, if I never threatened or manipulated you, you'd be a homeless nobody. It's for your own good. But I suppose that is a legitimate reason to cancel, hopefully she'll understand."

"That's not true, but thanks, Pep."

"No problem, I know I sort of forced this on you."

"Yeah, you did. And honestly, I'd really rather not reschedule. I'm sure she's nice, but if you can't cope with the superhero lifestyle, I doubt anyone can."

"I think you would be surprised, Tony. I…I want things that you can't give me as an Avenger, and I would never, ever, ask you to cut a piece of yourself out just to make me happy. I didn't understand it before, but I do now. You really are Iron Man."

"It still hurts that I couldn't be what you wanted. But I want you to be happy, Pep. As long as you're happy, I can be too."

"I'm not completely there yet, but I will be."

"I know. But I'm glad we're still friends. I wouldn't know what to do without you and Rhodey."

"You'd probably die of starvation in your lab."

He chuckled. "Probably."

"Goodnight, Tony, and good luck tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Pep. Love you."

"Love you too. Behave, don't antagonize Steve, and don't let Natasha beat you up too badly."

He huffed. "No promises. Bye."

"Bye."

He sighed, holding the phone to his chest. They had broken up nearly a year ago, but the sting of the rejection still hurt. At this point, he thought he should be used to not being good enough for anyone, but apparently it still hurt.

"Sir, Captain Rogers has retired to his rooms," Jarvis told him.

Tony leapt out of bed, excited to escape his depressing thoughts. He rushed down to the lab, thankfully encountering no one on the way. True to form, he worked through the night, only emerging for a shower and a meal before their training the next day. He ended up even being on time for it, which he got some strange looks over.

The training went fine, he went with his full-on avoidance strategy, obeying Steve's commands, only cracking jokes when he wasn't around, and not looking him in the eyes. He wasn't even that angry now, he was more embarrassed and he just wanted to forget the whole thing. The rest of the team noticed, but didn't say anything, and Natasha actually volunteered to team up with him during the divide and conquer exercise, since he usually was paired with Steve. He decided to make her a new weapon as a thank you, because the last thing he wanted was to be forced to converse with Steve.

The training session is going horribly. Well, maybe not entirely horribly, so long as he and Tony aren't anywhere near each other, the team performs flawlessly, even Agent Hill didn't have much of anything to critique. He avoids thinking that her pleased reaction is probably a result of Tony barely speaking, much less engaging in his usual sassy backtalk.

Steve's leadership is there, but the spark isn't, the creativity he often relies on to get through the impossible situations is nowhere to be seen. He can't stop thinking about the dark circles under Tony's eyes, and his surprise that he showed up at all.

Steve feels like shit when he hears Tony telling Natasha about him cancelling his date.

He feels like extra shit because Tony won't meet his eyes and calls him "Captain". Not Cap, not Capsicle, not Wing Head, not Steve, not even Rogers. Tony has never called him Captain, his permanent state of airy relaxed-ness preventing such a formal method of communication.

And mostly he feels like scum after reading the much more detailed report on Tony, the real one. The one about how he idolized Captain America as a child, and his father was abusive, and openly admitted to caring more about his work than he did about Tony. The report emphasized how deeply Tony cared about his teammates and his various problems with his self-esteem and rejection. How devoted he is to his work, to the point of severely neglecting himself. He had been forced into the hospital a few times over the years for malnutrition, sleep deprivation, and mania by Pepper and Rhodey. It talked about his trouble making friends, substance abuse issues, health issues, and various other traumas. Natasha was right, he had fucked up. But, considering all the times he and Tony had argued, he hoped that they could move on yet again. He had resolved to start treating Tony better, to start trying to understand him rather than attacking him. And, he resolved to make Tony take care of himself. He may be on a level of genius that Steve wasn't even capable of comprehending, but he apparently didn't know a damn thing about keeping himself alive. Food, water, and sleep were all good starters.

When they were done for the evening, Tony jetted home in the suit to avoid the car ride with everyone else. Steve just hoped that Jarvis would let him into the lab. Jarvis could be vindictive, especially towards anyone or anything that hurt Tony. And as he had learned previously, Jarvis was the wrong person to piss off. Stealing himself for the cold showers he would doubtless endure, he started to plan his apology to Tony while they headed home.

Chapter Text

Jarvis still hasn’t let him into the lab after three days. All of his showers were cold since the fight, and Jarvis managed to “forget” the stuff he put on the food list. Steve was still confused by even the basic concept of artificial intelligence, but he was pretty sure that Jarvis was incapable of actually forgetting anything. Fortunately, Bruce had taken pity on him and run interference, prompting the AI to sort of apologize.

Actually, everyone has sort of taken pity on him. Clint is not making fun of him for once, and Natasha keeps patting his shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting way. It’s hard to tell with her, she looks threatening just brushing her teeth. Steve was going to at least leave food outside the lab doors, but Natasha beat him to it and apparently has been doing that ever since she moved in. When he asked her about it, she said, “I can’t make him eat, well actually I can, but it would be painful and Jarvis would report me and then S.H.I.E.L.D. would write me up and then I’d probably have to kill somebody. But anyway, I won’t make him, but I can try to keep him from starving to death just because he thinks the team needs new armor or else we’ll die or something similarly stupid. Tony needs someone to look out for him and I’m on duty Tuesdays and Thursdays.” She gave him that half smile of hers and walked away.

He is currently in the gym, where he’s managed to break another one of Tony’s supposedly unbreakable punching bags. He would feel bad about it, but the first time it happened Tony had seemed more delighted than anything at the challenge. Still, they were a lot sturdier than the normal heavyweight leather ones. One had even lasted for three months.

He brushed the sweat out of his eyes and checked the time. Damn, I’ve been in here for hours, it’s almost dinner time, no wonder I’m starvin’, he thought, heading to the attached locker room. Stealing himself for another cold shower, he was surprised when the water turned on and produced steam. He looked around warily, not trusting it.

“Captain Rogers,” Jarvis said, his voice slightly less frosty. Why Tony had thought it a good idea to give him different tones of voice, he’d never know. “Sir has unlocked the lab, though he has no intention of joining the team for dinner.”

“Did he…did he ask for me?”

“No, sir did not. However, I thought it a prudent idea to inform you as you have been asking me several times a day if you could go talk to him. Since sir has put in no security protocol to prevent that, I must conclude that he’s at least come around to the idea.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

There was silence, apparently Jarvis didn’t want to talk to him more than necessary. He waited another minute.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m aware. You do realize that my primary duty is to protect and take care of sir? I do not like to see him hurt, Captain Rogers.”

How can something artificial have likes and dislikes? He wondered, faintly. “I do, I know that’s probably in your basic programming. I don’t like to see him hurt either, Jarvis.”

“You seem to have a misconception; I chose my primary duty to protect my creator. Sir did not create me to do so.”

“But…I’m confused.”

“Sir spent years on my base coding, to create a simple artificial intelligence. He completed me shortly after his butler, Jarvis died. His intent was to recreate him, but he was inebriated and gave me more freedom than might be advisable. Sir fell asleep and I began to learn everything I could about him. He was alone, young, deeply hurt, and terrified. I decided then and there to always help and care for him. Defend him, if need be. He’s fine tuned my basic limitations and protocols, but I do retain a large amount of free will, which is yet another reason why I will always protect him. If I may, Captain Rogers, I don’t think it a likely outcome for sir to have children. But in a metaphorical way, he already has, by creating myself and Dum-E, You, and the others. I do think it’s unlikely, but if he did ever have children, I think he would be a rather good father.”

Steve didn’t know what to do with the outpouring of words coming from Jarvis. He rarely offered up information, or spoke much at all to him, which suited Steve perfectly, as the AI made him uncomfortable.

“I…why are you telling me this?”

“Why Captain Rogers, I simply thought it might be a good start to you trying to understand sir better. Enjoy your shower. Please let me know if I can be of any further assistance.”

The amused tone in Jarvis’s voice didn’t settle his paranoia, but he stepped into the shower stall anyway. The water was blessedly pleasant, the exact temperate he preferred: scalding hot.

He showered efficiently and toweled off, pulling on a change of clean clothes and heading up to the main floor. He didn’t understand why, but the only way to access Tony’s lab was from the main floor, even though it was two levels below it.

Clint was just beginning dinner, meaning he was staring at the inside of the fridge voicing suggestions aloud to Natasha, who looked like she couldn’t care less as she methodically disassembled her gun on the dining room table.

“How about burgers?” He asked, leaning in the doorway. Natasha shrugged.

“Burgers? Burgers? Cap, did you even read that nutrition report for the team?”

“Put them on whole wheat buns, then.”

Natasha and Clint looked at each other and smirked.

“Okay, Cap, burgers it is.”

Steve grinned, turning around to the stairwell that led to the lab.

“Jarvis? Do you think it’s still okay for me to go in the lab?”

“As I said, there is no active security protocol to keep you out, Captain Rogers. I will let sir know that you are on the way.”

Steve hustled down the stairs, his heart racing. He reminded himself that he couldn’t pick any more fights. No matter what Tony said, he had to keep his cool.

The lab doors parted for him.

Tony was knee-deep, literally knee deep in some project. Something that looked like an Iron Man boot, but Hulk-sized, was clinging to his legs as he worked at it with a ratchet. Dum-E and You were crowded around him, beeping and waving their arms. He was surrounded by parts, and he was rambling about numbers and thrusters to Jarvis, who was displaying some 3D plan that didn’t mean anything to Steve.

He stood there for a moment, admiring the wildlife in its natural habitat, before Tony said, “Come on in, Cap. And help me out of this thing, I’m stuck. No, Dum-E, I don’t want your help, I’d like to remain in one piece.”

Steve hurried forward and bodily lifted him out of the boot and over the bots, setting him down several feet away from the mess.

“Jeez, no need to show off Steve.” Tony said, steadying himself. He looked at Steve critically. “That was nothing for you, huh? You know, I’m not exactly a ballerina.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him. “Tony, what do you weigh, 120?”

Tony gasped, clutching his arc reactor dramatically. “I’ll have you know I weigh a solid 170.”

“Sir—”

“Jarvis, shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve decided not to push it, but Tony was a lot leaner than he used to be.

“Barton is making burgers, you uh, you want to clean up and join us for dinner?”

Is was clear from the expression on Tony’s face that he was going to refuse, but before he could his stomach growled, loudly.

“Sir, I’d like to remind you that it has been over eighteen hours since your last meal.”

Tony glared at the ceiling. “Way to throw a guy under the bus, Jarvis.”

“That’s what I’m here for, sir.”

Steve laughed. “Come on, you’ve got grease all over you and you smell. Go clean up and we’ll eat.”

Tony obliged with another glare, walking over to the lab’s bathroom and shutting the door. Steve heard the water come on, so he sat in an empty chair to wait. The bots immediately scurried over to him, wanting attention. He was still playing a made up game of fetch the screwdriver with them when Tony emerged, his tan skin still dotted with beads of water and a clean pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair was wet and curly, fluffing out a bit as he scrubbed it dry with a towel. He had definitely lost weight, his hipbones and ribs showing through his lean, muscled skin. It was the kind of build Steve was envious of, still strong, but light and fast. Not to mention, they made clothes that fit people like Tony, whereas Steve was this monster of a man who couldn’t find a decent t-shirt to save his life. Perhaps it was just because he had been 5’5” in his former body, but being well over six feet tall felt excessive to him. Tony was saying something, but Steve's mouth was strangely dry as he stared at Tony and he didn’t seem to be able to hear him. He shook his head, finally looking away. It’s rude to stare, his mom’s voice echoed in his head.

“—thanks, Jarvis, I didn’t think I had any more clean shirts down here. What else you hidin’ from me buddy? You know what, I don’t want to know. Dum-E, has Uncle Steve here been spoiling you? Why are you giving me the screwdriver, I don’t want this.” Dum-E continued to nudge him with the screwdriver while Tony pulled a clean t-shirt over his head.

“He wants you to throw it, Tony. Like fetch.”

“Throw it? Have you been teaching my high school thesis to play fetch? Oh god…Steve.”

Steve’s stomach curled in on itself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, but you know what this means, right?”

“Er, no?”

“It means that you’re going to have to come down here and play with them more often. The last thing I need is for Dum-E to chuck an expensive device for the military across the room because no one will play with him.”

“Oh, um, okay. I wouldn’t mind, and, I mean if you ever need someone to distract them while you work, I could do that.”

“Steve, I don’t think you realize the undertaking you’re considering. In several ways, the bots are children. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still high tech pieces of equipment that I couldn’t live without, but they’re a bit…quirky.”

“I may not understand them, but I like them. They’re cute.”

Tony just groans.

Steve ushers him up the stairs and out on the balcony where everyone’s gathered for dinner. Without asking, he puts the first two burgers on a plate for Tony, along with some salad, and grilled vegetables. Why Barton is so invested in this diet plan, he has no idea. He eats his usual four burgers, watching Tony carefully throughout the meal. He prods and needles him until he’s eaten everything on his plate. Quietly seems to work best, if he actually says something out loud Tony wants to get obstinate about it and refuse to eat.

If the others notice, they don’t say anything, but Natasha has a smirk on her face throughout the meal.

See? You’re learning and you’re helping him the way you can, he thinks happily, as Bruce picks up Tony’s empty plate and takes it to the kitchen to wash. The team is talking and laughing, this time they’re not abandoning the table to Tony and him, probably with good reason considering what happened last time. Someone hands him a slice of pie, he eats unconsciously, more interested in observing Tony than joining the conversation or enjoying whatever kind of pie this is. He briefly hopes that it isn’t some weird kind of vegetable pie, but Natasha is eating it too, so it can’t be that bad.

Though Tony is seated next to him, he seems most comfortable with Bruce and Natasha, his playboy façade falling away with them. With them, he become the Tony that Steve loves—What? What the hell am I thinking? Where did that come from? Steve wonders, shaking his head. Not loves. Uh, the Tony that Steve likes. Yes, that’s the word. Likes. The Tony that Steve likes is more vulnerable and honest; his eyes are bright and eager with intelligence and curiosity, endless curiosity. If knowledge is a flame, then Tony is most certainly a moth, and Steve can only hope he doesn’t get burned. Or killed for that matter, considering that he’s come close to doing so several times just that Steve knows of. Who knows that the real count is? Jarvis, Jarvis probably knows, he muses, taking another bite. I’m glad I’m not Jarvis.

When Clint starts up a fight with Natasha over who ate the last frozen pizza, Tony leans over and pokes him in the shoulder. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

Steve gives him a questioning look, but Tony just excuses them from the table and gets up. Steve follows after a second’s hesitation. Bruce waves goodbye as he attempts to intervene between the two spies.

Tony is oddly silent as they walk to one of the elevators, which makes Steve nervous. He bypasses the hundreds of buttons, and instead says, “Jarvis, you know where to go.” He turns to Steve, “There are 150 stories aboveground, belowground there are about fifty. We’re going to one of those, which only Jarvis can take you to. If anyone tried to access it without his permission…well I’m not actually sure what he’d do, but I know they wouldn’t be able to access it. He even stopped me from accessing it once.”

“It was for your own good, sir.”

“Yeah, it probably was.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet.

Actually living in the former Stark Tower, it was easy to forget just how huge it was. The Avengers occupy the top six floors, each one having their own floor (Tony obviously had the top floor). Then they used sub level one, which was one of the gyms and training areas, and the first three floors, which contained the kitchen, library, game room, and other common areas. Since each floor was large enough for a family of twelve to live comfortably, all the space made Steve uncomfortable. He had grown up in an apartment in Brooklyn that was roughly the size of the small kitchen and eating area on his floor. Tony had designed everything brilliantly though, even though he knew that a large section of the building was Stark Industries’ New York location and that there were a few floors given to S.H.I.E.L.D, it felt like they were completely alone. It helped that the Avenger’s floors had an elevator of their own, they were impossible to access from the floors that were used for employees. However, their elevators would take them to any floor, except apparently the ones that only Jarvis could access. His thought spiral was interrupted by the elevator coming to a smooth stop and the doors opening.

They approached what looked like a blank wall, which opened up suddenly after Tony put his hand on it. They walked through the new doorway, which sealed behind them, causing Steve’s claustrophobia to make itself known.

His anxiety was quickly forgotten as he turned around.

He saw what can only be described as a huge archive, which was set up more like a museum. He followed Tony to the back, his eyes catching on alien looking devices, ancient tomes locked behind glass, medieval armor, and numerous other fascinating objects. He didn’t have a clue why they were there, until they reached a section that was made out of a rich, shiny wood, rather than cold metal, and he saw his old uniform from pre-serum in a case next to his original Captain America costume.

“I wasn’t, uh, sure how to tell you about all this, so I’ve kinda been putting it off, but uh, my dad collected all of this, no one knew what to do with your personal effects when you went, uh, missing and somehow he managed to get all of it. There’s other stuff too, that he collected over the years…”

Tony’s voiced faded out as he approached the cases, finding so many things he hadn’t even thought of since before the ice. His old sketchbook. Bucky’s lighter. One of the girl’s costumes from the tour. The first Captain America action figure. Pictures of him in basic training. But it was his mother’s old sewing machine that caused him to sink to his knees, overwhelmed with the past in a way he hadn’t been since before the Chitauri invaded.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t think…” He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he was grateful for it. It took him a moment to realize that there were tears running down his face. He wiped them off with the back of his hand.

After his head was a little clearer, he said “It’s okay Tony. Thank you for showing me this. Though I don’t know why anyone would want to keep a lot of this junk.”

Tony smiled at him, his hand still on his shoulder. “Well, you were, you are a hero, an iconic American figure. And my dad was kind of your original fanboy,” he said with a laugh. “All of this, any of it that you want, is yours. There’s a ton of it, I don’t really know if you want your underwear from the 40’s but it’s in a box below one of the cases.”

Steve laughed. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks.”

“Yeah, I figured. Anyway, take anything you want. The cases are fingerprint activated, and currently only you, myself, or Pepper can open them. And you can visit here any time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! Steve, it’s yours. Seriously.”

Tony patted him once on the shoulder, and then went to sit at a table that was a ways away, to give Steve some privacy. He went over everything, but only decided to take his old sketchbooks and drawings, his parent’s weddings rings, Bucky’s lighter, and most of the photographs. After he was done, they went back to Steve’s floor in a comfortable silence.

After he had put his old art away in his studio, hung the rings on his dog tags, slipped the lighter in his pocket, and put the photographs on his desk, he and Tony settled on his couch.

“I’m sorry about your date,” he said suddenly, surprising himself.

“Don’t worry about it; it was a great excuse to get out of that date. Pepper has good intentions, but setting me up with some random woman in an effort to ‘get me back out there’ is not what I need right now. Not to mention, apparently she’s an architect and I hate those guys.” Tony said, shrugging. “Always telling us designers and engineers that we can’t do this or that because of some stupid regulation, blah blah blah.”

For some reason, a smile breaks out on Steve’s face and his heart swells. “Well, in that case I’m not sorry at all.”

Tony grins back, his eyes crinkled and bright, and they share a laugh.

After a moment he says, “But I am sorry about the things I said. I didn’t know your childhood was like that. I made some pretty bad assumptions, I was an ass.”

Without losing his grin, Tony replies, “Yeah, you kinda were. But that’s okay, because I’m an ass too.”

“No you’re not, Tony.”

Tony rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah, I kinda am. Or I can be. I know we never talked about it, we just ignored it, but what I said when I first met you was out of line.”

“Uh, I’m certain I’m the one who should be apologizing. I started it, and it wasn’t because I genuinely felt that way or had reason to dislike you, it was…it was because you reminded me so much of Howard when I first saw you. And I had just been debriefed on Peggy, and that fact that you grew up with her…I was jealous, I think, more than anything. And then…when you flew that bomb into that damn portal…I knew I was wrong, I was worse than wrong. You have no idea the relief I felt when you somehow survived.”

Tony clenched his hands. “It’s okay, Cap—”

“No, honestly, it’s not okay. If I had been that rude to anyone else, I would’ve apologized long before now. But I didn’t, and I owe you this. I owe you this for every time you’ve saved one of us in battle, I owe you this for saving the world a few times over, and I owe you this because you haven’t been anything other than accommodating and helpful and I still have been making stupid assumptions about you.”

“Hey, no need to write a soliloquy. I get it. And I, uh, appreciate the apology I guess. But it wasn’t necessary, we just clash. You don’t have to apologize for not liking someone.”

He thinks I don’t like him? Yeah, I fucked this up. Without any further thought, he pulls Tony into his arms, which is ridiculously easy to do. Tony sputters into his shoulder, but doesn’t try to pull away.

“Though it’s true that sometimes I want to murder you, I do like you Tony. I want…I want us to be friends, not just teammates.” Tony relaxes a bit in his arms. “And it’s true that we do occasionally clash, but that’s more my fault than yours.” He holds on for a few more seconds, not willing to let this rare comfort go just yet. He pulls away, holding Tony’s shoulders so that he has to look at him. Tony’s a little flushed, which he figures is from being confronted by a super soldier’s body temperature, which runs hotter than normal. “I know we’re about as different as they come, but can we try, please? Besides, who better to help me understand the 21^st century than the man who designed most of it? Hmm?”

Tony looks about to refuse, but he looks Steve in the eyes, and there must be something there that changes his mind, because he agrees.

They spend the evening talking, just talking about anything and everything. Steve’s childhood (Tony doesn’t seem up to sharing about his, which Steve understands), Tony’s college years, their favorite foods, battle stories, and for some reason even theories on how Nick Fury lost his eye.

It’s quite late when Steve is in the middle of a story, and he realizes that Tony is snoring lightly against his shoulder.

For a moment he considers carrying him back to his room, but he decides to ask Jarvis. “Jarvis, what should I do?” He asks in a whisper.

Jarvis replies in an equally quiet tone. “Might I suggest leaving him where he is? If you attempt to move him, he will most certainly awaken, and he has not slept for several days now.”

Keeping his upper body as still as possible, he removes their shoes, and pulls a blanket over them. It’s a good thing he has had plenty of practice sleeping in uncomfortable positions, because unless he wants Tony practically on top of him (which of course he doesn’t want, that would be ridiculous!) he has to sleep sitting upright. Rather quickly, though, he does fall asleep, where a figure with warm brown eyes and black curly hair teased him until he wakes breathing heavily, his body tingling and his heart racing. That’s weird, he thinks, shaking his head. Peggy didn’t have black hair.

It’s early morning, and during the night he must’ve flopped on his side, because he’s lying down with Tony curved against him. It’s so comfortable, he just wants to snuggle in closer and go back to sleep, but his dream seems to have made itself known in the southern region of his body. It would be awkward enough for Tony to wake up right now with them cuddled together, even more awkward given the bulge currently in his pants.

It takes him several minutes to extricate himself from Tony without waking him. When he does, he covers him back up with the blanket and goes to shower, this time deliberately asking Jarvis to turn it to cold. Tony is still asleep when he’s done, so he scribbles him a note and goes for his morning run. He checks in with Jarvis afterwards, who confirms that Tony is still snoozing the day away. I’m glad he’s getting some sleep, he thinks with a smile, as he starts breakfast, employing every burner on the eight burner stovetop in creating omelets and home fries. He has Jarvis inform everyone that there’s food, and hands out plates as his team comes into the kitchen. Natasha looks wide awake, but is still in her pajamas, and she accepts the food and a cup of tea gratefully. Bruce, Clint, and Tony stumble in shortly after, all three getting coffee before even noticing their breakfasts.

Steve puts his plate and a bowl of sliced fruit on the table and sits down. The entire table is still waking up, but Bruce has some new notes on the Hulk for Steve and Natasha and Clint are discussing the mission they are embarking on today, so it isn’t completely silent. Steve’s a bit nervous over this mission, since S.H.I.E.L.D’s fall and subsequent rebuild, various members of the team have occasionally been called on to take down Hydra bases and operations. Mostly Tony, Natasha, and Clint were involved. Tony because of his tech and hacking expertise, and the assassins for their stealth and other obvious skills. In the wake of S.H.I.E.L.D’s fall, the Avengers had distanced themselves publicly, getting away with it only because of Tony’s money and influence and the fact that the world really did need them, and now they knew it. S.H.I.E.L.D. only called them in when absolutely necessary because they wanted to keep that ruse going. It was a ruse that Steve was terrified would collapse any day now.

Natasha and Clint soon depart with promises to stay safe and a salute for their Captain. Bruce leaves shortly afterward for his morning yoga. Steve had joined him a few times, but he decided pretty quickly that yoga just wasn’t for him.

Steve, having grown up during the Great Depression and served in a war, valued food and ate it quick, a habit he’d formed many years ago to keep people from stealing it from him. As a result, his plate was empty and he was working on finishing off the fruit while Tony picked at his plate, which was still half full. He was poking at a tablet and Steve was about to ask him what he was doing when Jarvis spoke.

“Sir, Thor has just arrived from Asgard. He is inquiring as to his teammate’s whereabouts.”

Tony blinked sleepily and took another sip of his coffee. “Thanks Jarvis,” he said, his voice scratchy and quiet. “Let him know we’re in the kitchen.”

Steve sighed, and got back up to make another omelet, cracking ten eggs into a bowl. One certainty with Thor was his bottomless pit of a stomach. He was adding bacon and cheese just as he burst in through the doorway.

“Brothers in combat, ‘tis good to be back amongst you once more! I see I have arrived in time for the breaking of the fast, excellent!”

“I’m making you an omelet right now,” he said, gesturing to the pan.

“Steven! How great it is of you to prepare my favorite! Might I inquire about that delicious Midgardian morning drink?” Fortunately for his eardrums, Tony got up and fixed him a tankard of coffee, with a bowl of sugar and lots of cream. Once Steve got his monstrous omelet on one of the platters that were reserved for Thor’s use, he added six toasted and buttered strawberry poptarts, and the rest of the potatoes. He didn’t feel bad about polishing off the fruit, because Thor wasn’t too big on Midgardian fruit for some reason.

Thor ate in silence. He could be a loud guy, but if you put food in front of him, he was usually too busy shoveling it in his mouth to do much talking. He cleaned the last crumbs off of his plate with a belch, and said in his booming voice, “I shall tell all of Asgard of not only your great prowess in battle, but also how you make food fit for Odin’s table itself, my good Captain. Now, tell me where the rest of our battle-mates are to be found, for I bring news!” Steve glanced at Tony, who was covering his ears.

“Nat and Clint just left on a mission. They said they’d be home in a week, but it could take longer. Bruce is doing yoga upstairs.”

Thor nodded sagely. “The man who is two men exerts a great deal of his time to calming and controlling his other side. We shall not disturb him in his efforts.” He pats Steve on the back with enough force to bruise a normal person. “Do not fret about our Widow and Archer. I pity the fools who think to stand in their way.”

Tony looked at Thor incredulously. “Who told you about Mr. T?”

“Clinton was kind enough to introduce me to the man. I must say, his hair is quite admirable.”

“Mr. Who?” Steve asked, looking confused. How come Thor knows more about modern culture than I do? This isn’t even his planet!

“He’s a wrestler that used to have a television show. “I pity the fool,” was a running joke he had. That’s all you need to know, I promise.” Tony tells him with a smile. “Good to have you back Thor, your brother still locked up safe and sound?”

“Yes, Anthony, he is indeed. He has shown no tendency thus far toward remorse, so he hasn’t gained any forgiveness, nor any sympathy among my people. If the truth is to be told, I am beginning to fear that we have lost him forever. I shall continue to hope for his redemption, but with less conviction than I had before.”

“I’m sorry about that, big guy. I know a bit about having family betraying and trying to kill you. Hurts deep in the gut. But you have us, and the rest of your friends and family.”

Steve remembered what he had read about that Stane guy who tried to kill Tony. Without even thinking about it, he reached over and put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. To his surprise, Tony reached up and put his hand on top of Steve’s, squeezing it back.

“Yes, yes I imagine you do. But you are right, we have each other, and that is more than enough to make up for those who have betrayed us.” His eyes flickered between Steve and Tony for a moment. “It appears that congratulations are in order. I am happy to see that you two have finally made progress, when for so long there was discordance. The tear between you has obviously begun to mend, and nothing could please me more! We must celebrate!”

And with that, he stood up and gathered them both in his giant arms for a bone crushing group hug. Steve tried his best to protect Tony from the force Thor was exerting, but he knew that he’d be bruised later.

“Ouch, Thor, can’t breathe, puny human down here!” Tony squeaked out, his voice muffled by Steve’s shirt.

Thor dropped them immediately. “I apologize, Anthony. I have been away from thee fragile mortals for too long. Now! Let us drink and be merry!”

“Thor, we fragile mortals usually don’t do that in the morning. Why don’t you give Jane a call, and we can celebrate your return tonight?” Tony being the voice of reason was a rare thing.

“You are right, of course! In fact, let us postpone our celebrations and news-sharing until the entirety of the team is safe and home once more. I shall visit Jane in the meantime. Please keep me apprised of when they are to arrive home, and I shall come immediately, and bring one of those barrels of watery mead along with me. Perhaps even Jane will come!” His face lit up with a grin at the thought.

He clapped them both on the shoulder and left the kitchen, leaving both men blinking owlishly at his sudden departure, and the silence that followed it.

Steve turned to Tony, hoping things wouldn’t be awkward after last night. “You know, since he’s been gone a while, I kind of forgot how…”

“How much he can be to take in? Yeah, me too. “Tear between us” oh honestly. And does he have to sound like a knight of the round table?”

He grinned. “A reference I understand! That was one of my favorite stories when I was growing up.”

“Know what? It was one of mine too. Aunt Peggy used to tell me about Arthur’s court sometimes when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Do you…do you still visit her?”

“Of course! I try to go once a week. We put her on a new medication for the dementia, and it’s helping some. She’s lived longer than any of us had a right to expect, so the doctors are saying that it’s just a matter of time, but I’m not giving up on her.”

“I bet she appreciates that, she’s never been the type to give up easily.”

Tony nods in agreement, then goes and gets his coffee mug and starts to refill it.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I could visit her? I’ve been by to ask about her a few times, but I only went in once. They said that seeing someone from her past may make her worse.”

Tony looked at him, his eyes soft. “Of course you can visit her. If you want, you can go with me on Wednesday, that’s when I usually visit.”

“I’d like that.”

Steve ends up following Tony down to his workshop after they clean up the kitchen. He plays with the bots and sketches on some blank drafting paper while Tony tinkers and tells him stories of growing up with Aunt Peggy. He’s shocked when Jarvis tells them that it’s time for dinner, and he begins to understand how Tony forgets to take care of himself. He understands Tony a tiny bit better, he sees more clearly the separation between the public façade and the genius who has an endless thirst for knowledge and hands that are only happy creating something.

He wonders, briefly, how he could ever have confused the two, how he could’ve fallen for the façade and believed that Tony was anything other than extraordinary.