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Chapter Text

Part 1: Clint

His lungs were burning, his nose and mouth full of filthy water. The car battery dragged at his chest, threatening to rip free of his coronary arteries. Tony didn’t know which would be the more painful death; drowning in a tub of rust-tinged water, bleeding out as the major vessels were ripped from his heart, or feeling razor-sharp shrapnel bury itself in his cardiac muscle. All he knew was that he was dying, one way or another, and he couldn’t breathe; his chest gripped with the desperate, tearing need to drag in air, but when he opened his mouth all he sucked in was water, water in his throat and in his lungs and he was choking, choking….

Tony sat bolt upright in bed with an incoherent shout, dragging in deep, gasping draughts of air. His sheets were twisted and damp with sweat, his pillow on the floor halfway across the room. He stared around for a long moment, taking in the familiar surroundings highlighted by the soft blue glow of the arc reactor, then buried his face in his hands, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths, his breath hitching with remembered terror.

A soft click from the ceiling made him look up, his mind still fuzzy with sleep and fear, and he was half out of his bed before a figure dropped to the floor in front of him with soft feet, hands held up in a pacifying gesture. ‘It’s okay – it’s okay, it’s me. I just – you sounded upset….’

‘Barton?’ Tony managed, incredulously, recognising his teammate through blurry eyes. ‘What – you were in my ceiling?’

Clint had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘I was over the kitchen, actually. It’s warm up there, and I sleep better when – well, I just feel safer up there. But I heard you, and I thought you might be in trouble, you were shouting, so I came to see, and then – well, I couldn’t leave you like that.’

Tony ran a shaking hand over his face. ‘Unbelievable. This is what I get for inviting a bunch of crazy people into my home.’ Clint looked crestfallen, and Tony relented with a sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘Come on, then. Have a seat, now you’re here. I – I guess I could use the company.’

Clint crossed the room silently, settling beside him on the bed. He sat quietly for a few moments, then looked at Tony out of the corner of his eye, nudging him softly with his shoulder. ‘Nightmares?’

‘Yup.’ Tony sighed. ‘I’m a fucking cliché. Sorry I woke you.’

‘Hey, it’s fine. We all have them. Well, I do, and Tasha does, and I know Steve does because I’ve heard him. Wouldn’t be surprised about the others.’

‘Steve? Huh.’ Tony huffed in faint surprise. ‘Did you drop out of his ceiling too?’

‘Didn’t get a chance. He was attacking the punching bags before I worked out what was going on.’

‘Who’d’ve thought it? Captain America is human too.’ Tony sighed, leaning against Clint’s shoulder just a little.

‘We all are. You included. Want to tell me about it?’ Clint shifted position slightly, letting Tony lean against him, and Tony curled against him, leaning his head on his shoulder. Clint hesitated, a little surprised at the sudden intimacy, but then slipped his arm around Tony, smiling slightly as he snuggled into the embrace.

‘Not much to tell. I know you’ve seen my files.’ It wasn’t a question, but Clint nodded anyway, and Tony sighed softly before continuing. ‘I can’t seem to get my head out of Afghanistan, especially when Pepper’s away. Doesn’t help with restful sleep and all that crap, you know? I guess I’ll go down to the lab for a while, work it off.’

Clint was silent for a moment, then shifted to look at Tony. ‘You need to sleep, man. It’s three in the morning, you’ll be dead on your feet tomorrow. Listen – would it help if I stayed?’

Tony pulled away from him a little to look him in the eye. ‘You’d do that?’

Clint shrugged. ‘Sure. If it’d help you sleep, that’s fine with me.’

‘Tasha won’t kill me in my sleep for stealing you?’

Clint snorted. ‘She knows you wouldn’t dare. Nor would I, for that matter. No, it’s fine. Come on, shift over.’ He leaned down to retrieve the pillow, tucking it under Tony’s head as he lay back on the bed, then curled in beside him, pulling the duvet over them both. Tony rolled over to face him as soon as Clint was settled beside him, wrapping his arms around him and pillowing his head on his shoulder. Clint huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arm around Tony’s back.

‘Well well, who’d have thought it? Tony Stark is a secret cuddler!’

Tony smiled into his shoulder. ‘It’s a well-kept secret.’

Clint pulled him closer, laughing. ‘You’re a man of mystery. Now go to sleep.’

And, wrapped in the safety of his team-mate’s arms, Tony did.

Chapter Text

The team looked up as one as the elevator doors slid open and Tony stomped out, leaving a trail of half-melted snow on the floor behind him. Bruce reached for the remote and paused the DVD, smiling up at Tony. ‘Cold out?’

‘Brrrr. Brrrrrr, fucking hell, it’s freezing out there!’ Tony stamped the snow off his boots, leaving a gritty puddle on the floor. A small robot with a cloth and a disapproving air buzzed out of an alcove and fussed around him, mopping up the water and mud. Tony steadfastly ignored it, pulling off his hat and unwrapping the scarf from around his neck. ‘I think my nose has frozen off. Bruce, has my nose frozen off?’

Bruce laughed. ‘It’s still there, although it matches the red in your suit quite nicely. What were you doing walking out in that? It’s a filthy night out there.’

‘Everything’s iced over; I wasn’t about to ask Happy to risk those roads for the sake of a ten-minute walk.’ Tony unbuttoned his coat as he spoke, draping it over the back of a chair where it dripped steadily onto the floor, causing a flurry of protesting beeps from the little domestic robot. Tony kicked off his boots and stepped over it, making his way determinedly towards the sofa. ‘But now I’m frozen solid; Steve, I’ll never tease you about being a Capsicle again, this is foul. Thor, you’re warm, come here, defrost me.’ Tony launched himself onto the sofa and snuggled into Thor’s side, making little noises of contentment as Thor chuckled deeply and wrapped a big arm around him.

‘Mmmm, that’s nice, you’re toasty. Must be all the Pop Tarts.’ Tony snuggled closer, and Thor laid an experimental hand on his cheek.

‘Man of Iron, you are indeed most chilled! Your skin is like that of an Ice Giant!’ Thor grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa, wrapping it around Tony. Steve leaned over and touched his cheek with the back of his hand, concern in his eyes.

‘You actually are freezing! What on earth were you –’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘Never mind. I’ll make cocoa. Anybody want some?’ There was a clamour of unanimous assent, and soon the Avengers were settled back on the sofas, mugs in hand. Tony took a sip of his cocoa, and felt the warm burn of something a little stronger – brandy, maybe? – light a fire in the middle of his chest, beginning to thaw the icy core of him. He looked up and met Steve’s eyes, and grinned when the Captain winked at him. Contented, he snuggled down into Thor’s arms, tugging the blanket up to his neck and cupping his mug of cocoa in both hands.

‘So, what are we watching?’

‘A marvellous saga indeed!’ Thor boomed, his voice sending warm vibrations through Tony’s chest. ‘This villainous man has no compassion for his fellow Midgardians! But there are spirits showing him the error of his ways, and I have hopes that at last the small frog may be saved.’

‘The frog?’ Tony blinked. ‘Who decided to show Thor A Muppet Christmas Carol?’

Bruce raised a hand with a smile. ‘What? It’s a good film! Steve knows the story, and Thor likes the singing and the spirits – come on, Tony, it’s the Muppets! What’s not to like?’

‘You have a point.’ Tony settled against Thor’s broad chest, feeling the cold in his limbs dissipate in the warmth of his arms. ‘Let’s put it back on, then.’

Bruce flicked the remote, and the images on the screen danced into life. Tony sipped at his cocoa, eyes half-closed, safe and warm with his friends around him. After all, not many people got to sleep in the arms of a god.

Chapter Text

It was getting late. Bruce stretched, his spine making quiet clicks as he moved. He had been down in the lab for too long, really, but he liked working in the hours around midnight, when nobody else was around. The Avengers Tower was the best home he’d ever had, warm and loving and full of laughter, but he was used to having time alone to think. Late nights in the quiet of his own lab, watching the mesmerising division of cells through a microscope, allowed him that time to be quiet and centred in his own mind, without distractions. The Hulk seemed to like it too, in his own way; Bruce could feel him rumbling contentedly at the back of his mind on occasions, as he scanned for danger and found none. Neither he nor Bruce had ever been used to feeling safe; this was new for both of them.

He looked up from his microscope as footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the lab. Bruce smiled as the door swung open; however much he liked his solitude, having friends was also a new and welcome experience. Tony in particular was a joy to be around; from the very beginning he had been utterly unafraid of Bruce, in a way nobody had been since his transformation, and he had welcomed him into his home and his life without hesitation. Bruce knew he could never thank him enough for that, and he also knew that Tony would never let him if he tried. Still, he was always glad to see him, even if it meant putting his experiments aside for the night whilst Tony chattered about his latest inventions.

‘Hey, Tony. How’s –’ Bruce broke off as Tony stepped out of the shadows. He had never seen his friend looking like this, even in the darkest moments of their battle with the Chitauri. Tony’s face was ashen, dark shadows like bruises around his eyes, and as he stepped into the light Bruce could see that his hands were shaking.

‘What is it? Tony, what’s happened?’ Bruce turned away from the desk, his experiment forgotten. Tony took another step towards him, and Bruce could hear his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

‘Pepper – she – Pepper left me.’ Tony’s voice was rough with pain. ‘She said she couldn’t do it any more, all the press and SHIELD and everything, she wants a proper family and a normal life and I can’t –’ His voice broke on the last word, and the rest of his sentence was lost in a short, choked sob. He pressed his fingers against his lips, as if he were trying to physically hold back his grief. Tears spilled over his lower lashes and fell down his pale cheeks, and he looked up with dark, desperate eyes. ‘Bruce,’ he choked out, and Bruce took two steps towards him and wrapped him in his arms, holding on tight as Tony began to sob against his chest.

‘Come on. Tony, come over here, sit down.’ Bruce guided him over to the low couch where he sometimes slept if he had an experiment to watch overnight, holding him close against his shoulder. Tony clung to him, hands fisted in his shirt, his body shaking with deep, tearing sobs. Bruce rested one hand on his hair, his thumb tracing small circles at the nape of Tony’s neck as he whispered soft reassurances into his hair. Tony leaned into his embrace, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps, his tears soaking into Bruce’s shirt over his collarbone. Bruce simply held him, waiting out the storm as the minutes ticked by on the clock above the door. Somewhere in the lab, a tinny alarm sounded, a warning that the temperature in his incubator had risen too high to sustain the cells for the experiment he had been working on, but Bruce ignored it, carding his fingers gently through Tony’s hair. At last, Tony’s sobs subsided, and he looked up, his lashes dark and spiky and his face wet with tears.

‘Will it always be like this?’ His voice was rough and choked, and Bruce brushed the tears away from his face with gentle fingers as he went on. ‘When I love someone, really love them, will they always end up leaving? Obie, and Yinsen, and now Pepper….’

‘And Rhodey? He hasn’t gone anywhere, has he?’ Bruce’s voice was firm, and Tony hesitated before shaking his head, watching him with dark eyes. ‘And Clint and Tasha, and Thor and Steve – and me? We’re not leaving you, Tony. I promise. Not ever.’

Tony let out a shaky sigh, leaning against Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce wrapped his arms around him, holding him for a long moment before going on. ‘You want to stay here with me tonight? We don’t have to go upstairs if you don’t want to; there’s room on the couch for both of us.’

‘Can I?’ Tony’s voice was quieter and more uncertain than Bruce had ever heard it.

‘Of course. Whenever you need to. Come on, let’s lie down. Get some rest.’ Bruce dragged a blanket from the back of the couch, pulling it over them both as Tony settled beside him, his head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, his fingers clenched tightly in his shirt. Bruce ran a gentle hand over his hair before settling with his arm draped protectively over Tony, holding him close against his chest. ‘JARVIS, can you get the lights?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ The lights faded and went out, leaving the room lit only by the soft blue glow of Tony’s arc reactor, half hidden against Bruce’s chest. There was a brief hesitation, and then JARVIS spoke again, his tone soft. ‘And, sir? I will not be going away either. You have my word.’

Tony let out a shuddering sigh. ‘Thanks, JARVIS.’ His voice broke a little as he spoke, and he turned his face into Bruce’s chest, his shoulders shaking. Bruce ran his hand softly between his shoulderblades, letting him cry in his arms. There would be time to talk in the morning, and for all the days after that. Bruce had promised not to leave, and for the first time since walking through the doors of the Avengers Tower, he knew that was a promise he was going to keep.

Chapter Text

It hadn’t been a difficult battle. The robots that had been terrorising New York were badly built contraptions that had mostly disintegrated with one blast from Iron Man’s repulsors, and very soon all that was left was the clean-up. Tony pushed his faceplate up, kicking aside a stray robot limb, accepting a bottle of water from a passing policeman with a smile of thanks.

‘Everyone okay?’ Steve’s voice crackled into life in his earpiece. ‘Anyone see where Bruce went?’

‘Fine down here, Cap,’ Tony replied. He looked around and caught sight of the Hulk lumbering towards him, half a robot clutched in each hand. ‘Big Green’s with me, I’ll keep an eye on him.’

‘We’re fine too,’ Natasha put in. ‘Clint and Thor are up here as well.’

‘Great, thanks. Good job, everyone.’ Steve’s communication cut out, and Tony smiled up at the Hulk as he approached.

‘Hey, big guy. Had fun?’

The Hulk grunted, then threw the robot pieces to one side with a clatter. He approached Tony, then stooped down to look closely at him.

‘Metal Man sad,’ he rumbled. Tony raised an eyebrow, surprised.

‘I – I guess. I was, maybe still am a bit, hey, it’s only been two weeks. But I’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about, okay?’ He took a deep gulp from his bottle of water.

The Hulk wrinkled his nose, clearly unconvinced. ‘Lady hurt Metal Man. Metal Man want Hulk smash?’

Tony was mid-swallow as the Hulk spoke, and most of his water came down his nose in a fit of choking. ‘What? No! No, no, big guy, no smashing. It’s fine, Pep and I talked, we’re still friends. She didn’t mean to hurt me, it’s just one of those things, okay? You don’t need to protect me, I’m fine.’

The Hulk grunted in response, and Tony took another step towards him, reaching up to tap him on the arm. ‘Hey. Promise you won’t go smashing Pepper. Or anything Pepper-related. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but I don’t want you to do that. Okay?’

‘Okay. Hulk promise.’ The Hulk sighed deeply, then suddenly scooped Tony up in one hand. Tony yelped in surprise as he was hauled up to eye level with his big green friend. ‘Metal Man happy?’

Tony felt himself smiling, his first genuine grin since Pepper had left. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I reckon I am. Thanks, Big Green.’

The Hulk simply rumbled in response, then shifted his grip so Tony rested against his shoulder. Tony reached up, wrapping his arms around the thick green neck, smiling to himself. Bruce was never going to believe this.

Chapter Text

Tony stood at the kitchen counter, watching the dark coffee drip slowly into his mug. There was no sound from the Tower’s other occupants, except for the faint snoring he had heard from Thor’s room as he passed. Not that he would expect anyone else to be awake; at three in the morning he was almost always the only one up and about.
The coffee machine beeped softly, signalling that his drink was ready, and Tony picked up the cup, inhaling the rich, bitter steam. He turned to carry it to the lounge, and stopped in his tracks as he realised he was not alone in the kitchen after all. Natasha stood a little distance away from him, her eyes shadowed with tiredness and her red hair dishevelled, dressed only in a knitted grey sweater, knee-length on her, that must have belonged to either Thor or Steve.

‘Can’t sleep, котик?’ Her voice was soft, more gentle than he was used to from her. He gave her a rueful smile.

‘What’s new? I figured there was no use in lying awake, might as well get up and get something done. How about you? Everything okay?’

‘I’m fine, just still running on Moscow time since the last mission. It’s lunchtime there, and my body will not have it any other way.’

‘Ha, yes, I know that one.’ Tony went to move past her. ‘Well, I’m off down to the lab. Might as well get some work done.’ He stopped as she reached out and took hold of his arm, looking intently at him, close enough that he could smell a hint of the spicy carnation scent of her hair.

‘I don’t think so. How much sleep have you had this week?’

Tony hesitated. ‘A little? I got a couple of hours last night.’

Natasha snorted. ‘Not enough, then. You can’t spend your whole life in the lab.’

Tony sighed. ‘I know. I just – ’ He stopped, looking down at his coffee mug, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

‘You can’t sleep without Pepper. You wake alone, and then the nightmares come. I know.’ Natasha’s voice was very gentle, and Tony looked up, blinking against the sudden stinging in his eyes.

‘How –’

‘How do I know? Because I know you, Tony Stark, and I know you need physical affection like Bruce needs meditation, like Clint needs time in high up places.’ She regarded him critically for a moment, and then seized the mug from his hands, tipping the coffee down the sink in one smooth movement.

‘Hey!’ Tony protested, reaching out just a moment too late. ‘That was my coffee! I was drinking that!’

‘That won’t help you sleep. Come away from there.’ Natasha waved her hands at him impatiently, and he stepped back meekly, watching as she took milk out of the fridge and poured it into a saucepan, setting it on the stove.

‘You’re not going to make me drink Steve’s Ovaltine, are you? Because, ugh.’ Tony faked a shudder. Natasha kept her back to him, but he could tell she was smiling as she answered.

‘Something better than that. I used to drink this when I was very small, when sleep would not come.’ She didn’t say who had made it for her, and Tony didn’t ask. He leaned against the kitchen table, watching as she took honey and spices from the cupboard and stirred them into the warm milk before pouring the concoction into a mug.

‘Here. Now, come along.’ She passed the mug to him, then took his other hand and led him to the sofa. She sat down at one end, picking up a battered paperback copy of The Hobbit, and patted the seat beside her. ‘Lie down. Drink your poshote, then sleep.’

Tony blinked at her. ‘But – you don’t cuddle!’

Natasha gave him a quick smile, fleeting in the dim light. ‘Correction. I rarely cuddle. Only with those I trust and care for. Now, come here and sleep.’

Tony sat beside her, his eyes burning with sudden emotion. ‘Tasha, I –’

‘Hush. I’m reading.’ She didn’t lift her eyes from her book, but there was a faint smile on her lips. Tony leaned into her shoulder, sipping the sweet, spiced milk, feeling it warm him from the inside. He was only halfway down the cup before he felt his eyelids drooping, and Natasha took it from him with gentle hands. He felt her drape a soft blanket over him, and he lay down beside her, his head in her lap, letting his eyes drift closed as she ran soft fingers over his hair. His nightmares seemed very far away as he fell into sleep, soothed by the soft rustle of turning pages and the faint scent of carnation.

Chapter Text

Steve could hear his team laughing even before the elevator doors opened. He smiled to himself as he stepped into the room, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook on the wall by the door. On the sofas, the Avengers were gathered around the television, their voices raised in delighted laughter. He walked up and leaned on the back of the sofa where Tony and Thor were sitting, looking over their heads at the screen.

‘What’s so funny?’ He lifted an eyebrow with a half-smile.

‘Steve, you have to see this,’ Clint called over from the other sofa. ‘It’s a Tony Stark biopic; it’s the best thing ever filmed, I swear.’

‘An unofficial biopic, mind you,’ Tony put in, twisting in his seat to look up at Steve with a grin. ‘I knew nothing about it until it came on this evening. But it is hilarious, I have to admit. Cheesy acting, wobbly cardboard scenery – and just look at this handsome fellow!’ He gestured extravagantly at the television as the on-screen ‘Tony’ strutted into view, with what looked like a whole bottle of gel in his hair, a diamante tie pin glinting against his ‘Armani’ suit with its suspiciously polyester-like sheen, and a beautiful girl on each arm. Steve couldn’t help laughing as he walked around the sofa and flopped down in the seat beside Tony.

‘How could I resist such a classic piece of film history? So, where are we up to?’

‘Tony inherited the company about ten minutes ago and he’s already been to four parties,’ Clint informed him gleefully. ‘He’s worn the same suit to all of them.’

‘Lies!’ protested Tony, laughing. ‘It had subtle differences, I’m sure. This man has style.’

Steve chuckled, settling in to watch the rest of the show. His team-mates kept up their banter, Clint and Natasha’s teasing comments mingling with Tony’s shouts of laughter and cheers of encouragement for his on-screen alter ego, Thor’s deep guffaws almost drowning out Bruce’s soft chuckles and occasional wry observations. On screen, ‘Tony’ strutted through a dizzying world of parties, women and champagne, occasionally giving an exaggerated wink directly to camera, to shouts of delight from Clint.

Abruptly, the screen went dark. Steve felt Tony tense beside him as the narrator began to speak in suddenly sombre tones. ‘But the party couldn’t last. Under the hot sun of Afghanistan, Tony Stark’s life was to change forever.’

Steve drew in a breath to speak, to suggest that perhaps now would be a good time to change the channel, but he was too late. The view on the screen changed to a first-person view of swirling, dirty water, streaks of blood and oil intermixed with the gritty liquid. Tony’s surround-sound speakers made the angry clamour of voices seem very present and real as they shouted demands in a mixture of English and Afghani. The splash of water and the on-screen Tony’s desperate gasps for air seemed as though they were coming from right beside Steve, and he straightened in his seat, looking up as he snapped a command. ‘JARVIS, turn it off!’

The screen went dark, the angry shouts suddenly ceasing. Steve half turned, but before he could reach out, his arms were full of Tony, his friend clinging to him desperately and burying his face in his shoulder, his frantic gasps an eerie continuation of his on-screen counterpart’s.

‘Tony, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.’ Steve’s voice was very soft as he wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling him into his lap. Tony clung tighter, his short, ragged breaths hot on Steve’s neck, his whole body shaking with violent terror. Thor stood up from beside Tony, resting one hand briefly on his shoulder and looking down at him sadly before walking reluctantly away. Clint and Natasha had already slipped out of the room, allowing him some degree of privacy. Bruce lingered for a few moments, picking up a light blanket from the back of the sofa and draping it around Tony’s shoulders. Tony didn’t respond, too lost in his terror to notice, but Steve looked up and gave him a half smile.

‘Look after him.’ Bruce’s voice was very quiet.

‘Always,’ Steve replied gently, and Bruce nodded once before walking away. Tony was still clinging to Steve, shaking with remembered fear, too frightened to cry. Steve ran his fingers softly through his hair, holding him tightly.

‘It’s okay, Tony. Everyone’s gone; it’s just you and me. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you again, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.’ Steve brushed his lips very lightly over Tony’s hair, and with that gesture all the tension seemed to suddenly leave his body. His face still hidden against Steve’s neck, Tony began to cry quietly, his shoulders shaking with sobs, his tears hot against Steve’s skin. Steve wrapped him tightly in his arms, holding him close against him, murmuring soft reassurances into his ear. Tony clung to him, his fingers clutched tightly in Steve’s shirt, the fabric bunched in his hands, and Steve shifted slightly, settling Tony’s weight against his shoulder. Tony’s breath came in short, choked gasps, as though he were fighting for air, and Steve rubbed soft, slow circles between his shoulder blades, keeping his own breaths deep and quiet, trying to soothe him with his own body. After long minutes, the desperate gasps turned to deep, shuddering breaths, and then at last to quiet, steady breathing, with only the occasional hitch as his tears subsided. Steve sat quietly, running his fingers gently through Tony’s hair, until at last Tony shifted in his arms and sat up to look at him. His face was wet with tears, but he managed a semblance of a smile.

‘Sorry. That wasn’t in my plan for today.’

Steve smiled gently, his arm still around Tony’s shoulders. ‘Hey, it’s fine. No need to apologise. You okay?’

Tony nodded. ‘Yeah – just took me by surprise, that’s all. I was expecting to have time to make my excuses and leave before they started with that scene. I could have done without seeing that.’ He lifted a hand to his face, trying to scrub away the tears with the cuff of his shirt. Steve pulled a folded white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and shook it open.

‘Here; hold still.’ He wiped the soft cloth gently over Tony’s cheeks, drying his tears. Tony watched him with wide, dark eyes, his eyelashes still wet and spiky. He raised an eyebrow at Steve with a small smile.

‘You carry a handkerchief?’

‘You don’t?’

Their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing, neither of them really knowing why; the helpless, breathless kind of laughter that often follows tears. Every time Steve got himself under control, Tony would catch his eye and they would be off again, leaning against each other and giggling like children. At last, Steve managed to catch his breath, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Tony’s, feeling his breath warm on his cheek. They sat like that for a long moment, and then Steve lifted his hand to Tony’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear from under his eye. Tony caught his breath at the movement, and then leaned his cheek into Steve’s hand, cat-like. Steve ran his thumb softly over Tony’s cheekbone, his breath suddenly catching in his throat.

‘Tony –’

‘Shh. It’s okay.’

‘We can’t –’

‘We can. If you want.’

Steve could only nod, and then suddenly he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Tony’s, and Tony was tangling his fingers in his hair and kissing him back with soft lips. He tasted of coffee and salt, his mouth warm and soft and the stubble around his beard rough against Steve’s face. He let out a soft, shuddering sigh, and Steve pulled away, one hand still wrapped around the nape of Tony’s neck, looking at him in concern.

‘Tony, I’m sorry.’ His voice was very soft.

‘Unless you mean for stopping, you have nothing to be sorry for.’ Tony’s voice was steady now, his hands firm on Steve’s shoulders.

‘I can’t take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable like this.’ Steve looked down, suddenly ashamed to meet Tony’s eyes, dropping his hands to his lap, but Tony cupped his face in one hand, pulling his chin up.

‘Look at me. You think I don’t know what I want? I know you won’t hurt me.’ Tony smiled, hesitant but real. ‘You want it too, right? Not just today, I mean; you want this to be something?’

‘You know I do.’ Steve’s voice was very soft.

‘Then we’re fine. You’re not taking advantage; I know what I’m doing.’ Tony grinned suddenly. ‘And you know the others won’t disturb us for a while. I guess that TV show had its advantages after all.’

Steve’s answering smile was shy, but his eyes had the beginnings of a sparkle. ‘I guess it did. You’re really okay?’

‘I’m fine now; I was just shaken up. Thanks for – for not thinking less of me.’ There was a note of uncharacteristic seriousness in Tony’s voice.

‘For reacting to being confronted by your nightmares on screen? I’d be an idiot if I did.’ Steve reached up, running a hand softly over Tony’s hair. ‘Anyway, you keep kissing me like that, I won’t be able to think at all.’

Tony laughed softly. ‘Was that a request?’

‘It might have been.’ Steve smiled, and Tony leaned forward in answer, his lips warm and soft against Steve’s. As he wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling him tightly against him, Steve felt tension he hadn’t realised was there falling away from his body, a rush of warmth filling him in its place. This century was strange, frightening and often lonely, but this made it all worth it.

This, he could get used to.