Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Get outta my sight.”

Steve regretted it as soon as he said it. It felt like it had left hot coals on his tongue, tears stinging at his eyes as he watched Tony give a very real flinch. He wondered how many other people had said it to him and meant it. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it back out in a rush, whispering, “That sucked. I don’t like this.”

“Keep it together, Steve,” Tony hissed back, and then said, louder, “I don’t have to fucking take this.”

“I hate this,” Steve whispered.

“Steve,” Tony said softly, brows furrowing together with worry. His hands fluttered as if he wanted to reach out and comfort him.

Steve shook his head and stepped back, steeling his nerves. “I don’t fucking need this. I don’t need—” You stuck on his tongue like a burr, and he choked on it, swallowed it back down. He couldn’t even say it when he knew that Tony knew it was a lie.

Tony looked worried. His hands moved toward him again, but he changed direction at the last moment, grabbing what looked like a decorative clock and flinging it at him. “I don’t fucking need this!” he shouted as Steve ducked, the clock shattering to pieces explosively when it hit the wall. “This entire fucking situation, you can’t just—”

The door slid open, and a robot maid cheerily cut in, “I am to take Mr. Stark to a new accommodation.”

Tony was moving before Steve could even process what the robot had said, gauntleted hand delving into the robot’s chest and then yanking back. The robot made a sound not unlike a gasp of terror and pain before it went silent, collapsing to the ground with a heavy, metallic thud. Its power core fzzt-ed in random intervals in Tony’s grip.

“Hmm,” Tony hummed, staring down at it. He looked unsettled, even as he lifted the power core and pulled a chip free. “Didn’t like that.”

The door started to slide shut before he could say more, a vague alarm beginning to blare out in the hallway. Steve kicked up his shield and threw it more on instinct than anything, and it caught in the door before it could close. They stared at the open door for a moment.

“This whole thing sucks,” Steve finally croaked, running a shaking hand through his hair. “You flinched. Why did you flinch? You knew I was just saying that to get the robots to separate us.”

“I guess I wasn’t prepared to live out one of my nightmares, even if I knew it wasn’t true,” Tony finally said, not lifting his gaze from the power core. He began picking at it, eyes nervously darting everywhere but at Steve.

“I am going to be so fucking annoying with how much I’m going to cuddle you after we get out of here,” Steve choked out, walking over to the door. He could catch the sound of wheels whirring in the distance. They needed to get out and free the others while they had the chance.

“I would never be annoyed by you cuddling me, Steve,” Tony told him, finally looking up at him to show how earnest he was, and Steve spared just enough time to press a quick, chaste kiss to his mouth before he put a hand on the small of Tony’s back to shunt him out of the room before him.

Steve avoided video games in the common room as a rule. It wasn’t that he didn’t like video games, of course—he enjoyed a story-driven single player game, and he was quite fond of the indie games that Sam had suggested when he saw that ‘Nintendo (Switch???)’ was written on his list. Something about team games, though, it was… difficult. He just couldn’t.

“Probably because you’re a sore loser,” Clint mused in response to Steve’s furiously roared 'did you just blue shell me?!’

“I am not a sore loser,” Steve spat, turning to glare at him.

“You are,” Clint said simply as Steve’s King Boo rolled in at a perfectly respectable seventh place. “Tony, back me up.”

“Don’t,” Steve barked as Tony opened his mouth. “I am not. Leave me alone.”

“You don’t like to lose. It’s what makes you such a good team leader, sweetheart,” Tony soothed, wrapping his arms around his neck and smacking a loud, wet kiss to his cheek.

“Well,” Steve grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess so.”

“Yeah, it’s why you kept fighting on a broken leg in the last battle,” Clint added, in a way he probably thought was helpful.

Tony’s arms clamped tighter around him, and Steve let out a faint 'Gck!’ as it choked him, hands flying up helplessly to grab his wrists. “You said it was just a sprain,” he growled.

“Oh, well, bye,” Clint said, dropping his controller and bolting from the room, and Steve could only watch miserably as he disappeared into the elevator, leaving him with Tony, who still had his arms tight around his throat.

“You’re a complete moron!” Tony shouted, waving his hands over his head for emphasis as he paced up and down the tiny shack they’d holed up in. “I said I could disarm the bomb. I said I could fly us out of there. I said I could handle it! And what did you do instead?!”

“I got blown up,” Steve answered morosely.

“You got blown up!” Tony shouted, as if he hadn’t spoken. “And now Natasha and Bucky are tromping around in the Siberian wilderness trying to find help because your dumb ass has to sit and stitch itself together AND! Barring HELP! FOOD. IN THE SIBERIAN WILDERNESS.”

“Green pine-cones are perfectly edible and full of nutrients,” Steve began.

Tony loomed over him on the tiny cot Bucky had wedged him onto, looking apoplectic with rage. “What did you just say to me.”

Steve opened his mouth, then carefully closed it again, considering. On one hand, in literally any other circumstance, Tony might be interested to know about the fact that small, green pine-cones could be used as a food source in case of an emergency. Right now, though, he could see that Tony was wound tight. He had said that he could handle it. Tony was always rankled when he thought people underestimated him.

Steve didn’t underestimate him, though. He knew Tony could disarm the bomb. He knew Tony could fly them out. He knew Tony could handle it. He knew all of those things. And he also knew that if there was even an inkling of doubt in Tony’s body, he would have stayed to make sure everyone else got out safely.

But that would have meant leaving Tony behind. Steve was incapable of doing that. Not when he knew that Tony would easily throw his life away if it meant saving someone else’s. So he’d taken the brunt of the explosion with the shield, so Tony didn’t have a choice.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat, but he thought if he said so, Tony might actually use a gauntlet on him. So, instead, he said, “Will you at least hold my hand while you yell at me?”

“No,” Tony barked, even as carefully took one of Steve’s hands between his own. His thumbs moved back and forth slowly. “And my yelling is absolutely deserved.”

“I know,” Steve sighed, and even to his own ears, he couldn’t keep all of the fondness out of it. He watched Tony’s eyes soften and managed to give his hand a minute squeeze, trying to comfort him. “And then I’ll tell you about the pine-cones.”

Tony sucked in a wet breath. “If I never see a pine-cone again, it will be too soon.”

Steve stared down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the wedding ring around his finger. Tony was sat across the table from him, face impassive. The counselor they were seeing had stepped out for a moment, apparently a ‘couple in crisis’ on the phone that she needed to calm immediately. Steve wished she would come back. Wished he and Tony were in crisis. Anything other than this, betraying and feeling betrayed with a table between them and nothing to stay.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tony asked, voice quiet, eyes dropping to the surface of the table.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, grinding his teeth. “We shouldn’t talk without the counselor here.”

“You let me talk about our life together that included kids for weeks and just now you dropped that you don’t like children?” Tony hissed, eyes darting back up to him, full of fire and brimstone.

“It’s for the act,” Steve tried, but even as he said it, he knew that Tony didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe it, either.

“I thought I’d be a good dad,” Tony said, and he sounded so defeated, it broke Steve’s heart.

He couldn’t look at him anymore. He looked back down at the ring on his finger instead and immediately regretted it. It just made him feel worse. “You will be a good dad, Tony.”

“So, what, you’ll choke down your distaste for children for me?” Tony asked, and there was a hint of steel in his voice now. “I’ve lived with that as the kid, Steve. It wasn’t healthy for anyone.”

Steve jerked his head up, tears filling his eyes. “Tony, I didn’t say I don’t like children. I said I’m scared. And if you were as smart as you always say you are, you’d be scared too.” Tony opened his mouth, offended, but Steve plowed over him, biting out, “I broke three doorknobs this week. Doorknobs. I keep imagining a baby in my hands—” He spread his hands on the table, palms up, and was ashamed to find them shaking. “—and babies are so delicate, Tony, I. What if. What if I—”

Tony reached out to cover his hands with his own. “You never hurt me,” he told him gently.

“I don’t want to even accidentally hurt a baby, Tony,” Steve whispered.

The hurt had faded from Tony’s face. Resignation didn’t look any better on him. “Who would adopt to us anyway?” he asked, and the humor he’d tried to inject into his tone didn’t work. “We’re not even here in good faith. How could we make sure they were never in danger?”

“Thor said Amora wouldn’t be able to manipulate us like she had the other couples,” Steve reminded him half-heartedly. “We wouldn’t bring them on missions.”

“Maybe I can just be a really good uncle,” Tony sighed, as if there was nothing to argue about anymore, drawing his hands back into his lap.

This was why he hadn’t wanted to tell Tony, Steve thought, watching him carefully tuck the idea of children into a little box and hide it away as if he didn’t still desperately want it. Tony was too accommodating. He was already making up reasons he couldn’t have a child so Steve couldn’t take any of the blame for it.

Steve picked up the table and threw it at the counselor when she tried to come back in, and Amora caught it with a sparking-green hand. This wasn’t a conversation he was going to have in front of an enemy, and throwing punches at her would help him work out all his jittery nerves. He wanted the calm after battle to be able to get his thoughts in order and really hash this out.

Even if they decided they didn’t want kids after, it was going to be a mutual decision, not Tony simply taking it off the table and believing he was wrong for wanting them.

Steve took a moment to take everything in. Dum-E was cheerfully spinning its wheels and going nowhere in a puddle of blue foam. U was trapped in a corner, beeping pathetically as the same blue foam oozed in its direction. Tony looked unbothered by it. Or maybe he was just succeeding at trying to look unbothered. He supposed looking unbothered was the only thing Tony could do in defense to the scene in front of Steve.

Especially since Tony was hanging from the ceiling, left arm stuck above his head with the same blue foam.

“Hmm,” Steve finally acknowledged.

“I said I was busy,” Tony cut in before he could continue. He waved his free hand around. “I was just figuring out a way to tackle this. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“You are being ridiculous,” Steve corrected. “Everything is not fine. You are hanging from the ceiling.”

Tony pointed at him sharply, clearly intending to argue with him, but instead all he let out was a startled yelp as he slowly began to turn in circles. The foam attaching him to the ceiling bubbled and lengthened, making him swing vaguely back and forth.

Steve bit his cheek to keep from laughing at him. “What were you even trying to do?”

“Make an adhesive that could be used on the Hulk to try and stop him instead of the suit,” Tony answered, defeated. He was still slowly circling his way down toward the ground. “I thought if it was foam, he wouldn’t react so defensively.”

“Well, I understand the reasoning,” Steve offered, looking around the workshop to try and find an area he could leap to. It was pretty covered. Some parts of foam were still growing. “Why is it blue?”

“I was gonna make it purple, but the chemicals reacted to the blue dye before I could add red,” Tony sighed. His trajectory looked to be on par with a particularly large pile of oozing foam. He seemed to realize that too, if the resignation on his face was anything to go by.

Steve leapt up on a table and reached out to grab his ankle, towing him over. “Get the gauntlet off.”

“It’s literally oozed inside the gauntlet. Just save yourself,” Tony said, resignation giving way to sudden exhaustion. “It’s not toxic. I’ll be fine once it wears off.”

“We will be fine once it wears off,” Steve corrected, matter-of-fact, and reached up to grab the ooze and pull so Tony could put his feet on the table. Nothing happened, except that he couldn’t get his hand out of the ooze. He took a moment to consider this, dumbfounded. He’d truly thought he could just pull Tony free.

“Steve!” Tony wailed in dismay. “What have you done!”

Steve blinked. What had he done? He didn’t even know what was in this stuff. “Well, I wanted to spend time with you anyway, so—” he began.

“THIS IS GOING TO TAKE HOURS TO WEAR OFF!” Tony bellowed, shoving at him, and they both yelped as it knocked Steve off kilter and they both tripped off the table. They went back to Tony’s previous slow, pathetic swaying in circles.

“This isn’t my fault,” Steve said, and Tony screeched at him.

Steve hadn’t really understood what Colonel Rhodes had meant by “Tiberius Stone ruins Tony’s day simply by existing” until he finally attended a gala with Tony. Watching Tony’s eyes go wide with surprise, his face go ashen, his plastic smile stretching his wan face automatically before the dismay even truly registered in Steve’s mind, it left him feeling hollowed out.

It reminded him of the face his ma made when his da’s footsteps in the stairwell were heavy with drink.

Steve clocked Tiberius immediately. He was tall, handsome. Blond and blue-eyed. It made Steve think about early in his relationship with Tony, and the fear on his face when Steve moved too fast or too sharply–made him think about the apologies and the excuses Tony had made when Steve had asked if he’d done something wrong. Tiberius’s smile reminded Steve of Tony’s when he was being asked a question he didn’t particularly like at press conferences; like he was lying, and everyone knew it, but he’d done so in such a way that the person calling him on it would be an asshole to say so. Except somehow Tiberius’s smile was worse, because he looked like he enjoyed making people uncomfortable.

Steve wasn’t great at rich person stuff, but he was good at putting distance between people he didn’t want to talk to, so he carted Tony around the gala three times to talk to different people before Tony noticed. Tony had given him a look of speculation, then surprise, then fondness, before he’d rolled his eyes and shaken his head with a disappointed sigh and said, “I have to talk to him, Steve.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve offered, but Tony just rolled his eyes again. “I want to go with you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you to punch Tiberius in the teeth, and I know you want to,” Tony replied, amused and annoyed at the same time somehow, and then shook Steve’s hand off his arm so he could work his way around the gala alone.

Steve retreated to the bar, getting two large ginger ales with lemon, and tried not to break either of the glasses in frustration as he wondered if this was a Rich People Thing or a Tony Thing. At least he could understand Rich People Things. Tony Things usually just made him sad.

Tony sat down next to him a few minutes later, and Steve slid one of the glasses to him. He waited a beat, just watching Tony for a moment, but his face was impassive. He opened his mouth. “So, are you—”

“I’m okay, thank you,” Tony cut in, sharp but quiet. “Just please, stop talking to me.”

Steve tilted his head, considering. Tony didn’t look okay. He looked… blank. Like a slate. But then, at a gala, where there were tons of photographers and gossip magazine writers, perhaps the conversation wasn’t necessary. Not right now.

“I stepped on some lady’s foot,” Steve told the bartender. “The one wearing the teal shrug. How much trouble am I in?”

“The hostess?” the bartender asked, eyes nearly popping out of her head, and Tony choked on his ginger ale.

Steve dropped to the ground where he stood, shield clattering to the broken cement at his side. He was exhausted. He could fight for hours, but he really hated it. He couldn’t tell if that was just physical, though. Sometimes the emotional toll was worse than the physical one, based on who they were fighting.

He heard the whirr of repulsors, the dull clank of metal hitting the ground and the whirring of the gears of armor whining under the effort of movement. Steve sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out through his lips slowly, tipping his head back so he could catch sight of Tony in the armor.

“How are you feeling?” Tony asked, flipping his mask up. “You’re sitting down. That bad, huh?”

Steve managed a faint smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking I might lie down and die for about a half an hour, okay?”

“Oof,” Tony answered, unable to keep from wincing at least a little bit. It seemed like it was instinct, though, rather than actual worry. He stepped a little closer, left leg giving an alarming little squeak with each step. “Well, as long as it’s only a half an hour. Anything longer and I’d just take a nap in the armor.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve retorted. Sure, the armor could cradle his body and keep it safe, but sleeping upright was difficult on the body. Tony smiled, mischievous and sweet all at once, and Steve couldn’t help but smile back, smitten. He motioned at Tony’s leg. “Something is squeaking.”

Tony flipped his face plate shut, and Steve took a moment to just take him in, watch how the armor shifted in minute increments to test every bolt and joint. It was always a marvel to see. Tony had designed the armor all by himself, had checked every piece with his own hands. He was so incredibly smart. So incredibly clever.

“Quick fix once we get home,” Tony said, face plate popping back open. His hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, and there was a little swelling on his left cheek. It would probably bruise. But his eyes were bright at the idea of tinkering with the armor later, and his smile was wide with pleasure at his armor having worked with only a small malfunction.

So incredibly beautiful, Steve sighed, leaning his chin on his hand.

“Well, I’m hungry, so finish being dead, and—what?” Tony asked when he noticed the way Steve was staring at him. He blinked, lifting a gauntleted hand to his face. “I didn’t get more than a glancing blow to the face, is it bad? It doesn’t feel bad, I—”

“It’s so unfair that you can still be so handsome after a fight,” Steve said, trying to sound like he was complaining, but he could feel the goofy smile crossing his face. “I think I should kiss you all over.”

Tony let out a surprised little huff, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Well, that could be arranged, maybe, after you eat something.”

“You?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Maybe something with more carbs,” Tony suggested instead, holding his hand out to him.

Steve took it, forcing himself not to drag Tony down for a kiss. He’d learned his lesson the last time when he’d lunged up and gotten cut by the edge of the face plate. But once it was removed, he was kissing Tony wherever he could reach.

Steve was ashamed to admit it, but he’d never once thought to worry about Tony’s health. Sure, sometimes Tony overworked himself, but it seemed impossible for him not to, with his company and SHIELD and the Avengers to work for, and the one time Pepper had mentioned stepping back, he’d shot her a look of such disdain out of the corner of his eye that everyone in the room felt the need to apologize for the suggestion.

And it wasn’t like Tony was bad at taking care of himself, at least these days. He attempted to keep to a regular sleep schedule. He had a varied diet, but most times Steve noticed him gravitating to the healthier options anyway. On the days he had nothing but busywork scheduled, he managed to squeeze in an hour at the gym. He even scheduled rest time for himself (and Steve could admit, if he counted their date nights, he had a lot more relaxing time than his schedule reflected).

On top of that, Tony seemed… impossible to knock down? He complained when he was tired, but for the most part, he acted his same old self. He’d never even gotten a cold in the six years Steve had known him.

That was apparently by design, though, and Steve kicked himself for not taking the slight hesitation in Tony’s movements before he reached out for Nathaniel, snot and all, to bounce on his knee more seriously.

“The responsibility for my weakened immune system is mine,” Tony said, and he sounded so reasonable, but all Steve could do was stare at the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, because he was on his second week recovering from pneumonia. His left hand was held between both of Steve’s own, and it took everything in him not to squeeze it tight. “Steve. I never told anyone about my health problems. It’s not just you.”

“I—” Know was on the tip of his tongue. Tony’s health information was private. Had been even before Iron Man. But Steve couldn’t bring himself to say it. He should have been watching. He should have realized. Tony washed his hands and disinfected things more than anyone he ever knew, but he’d thought that was rich-person eccentricity. Not health consciousness. “You can’t die,” he finally croaked, leaning down so he could press his forehead to the back of Tony’s hand. “Please don’t die.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say, wasn’t the proper way to convey what he meant. But he didn’t know the words. All he could think about was waking up to a weak, wheezy, ‘Steve, call an ambulance’ as Tony burned hot beside him. All he could think about was what if he hadn’t woken up. It had barely been loud enough for his enhanced hearing to hear. JARVIS wouldn’t have been able to catch it and call for help himself.

He could have lost him.

When he finally lifted his head to check if Tony had fallen asleep, because he hadn’t answered, he found Tony simply staring at him, blinks slow and syrupy. He sucked in a sharp breath. Tony didn’t need this. He was recovering. Steve should have waited until he felt better to bring this up, wait until he was comfortable back at home—

“You’re so young,” Tony murmured, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry I never noticed, Steve. I’ll try harder to tell you these things, okay?”

“I don’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with,” Steve managed, then bit his bottom lip against any other words.

Tony’s mouth curved up into a wry smile. “I think my fiance should know everything about me, even the uncomfortable things.”

Steve blinked at him, frowning. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. He opened his mouth, closed it. Then he choked out, “You did not just propose to me from your hospital bed.”

“Is that a no?” Tony asked, brows furrowing together in concern.

“No, we’re getting married, no take-backs. I’m just so… So. I’m just fucking so,” Steve choked out, bringing Tony’s hand up to his face again so he could press a trembling kiss to his knuckles. “I should go get the the chaplain right now. Serve you right to get married in this bed.”

Tony laughed, and then he coughed, and Steve decided not to tease him about getting married in the hospital again until he was off oxygen at least.

Steve rolled onto his stomach as he heard Tony shuffling around in the closet, crossing his arms in front of him and placing his chin on them. As he got comfortable, Tony stepped back into the room, wearing nothing but one of Steve’s shirts. It was a nice look on him, and it sent a pleased, possessive little thrum through him. He ignored it, though. Tony was getting ready for a board meeting. If he was late, Pepper would come in and skin Steve alive. ‘I trained Tony to be properly terrified of me, so I know it’s your fault he’s regressed,’ she’d told him once, ominously, and it had scared Steve enough that he decided not to test her resolve.

“What do you think?” Tony asked, holding up one hanger with a gorgeous suit on it. “The brown?” He held up the other, with another, equally beautiful suit on it. “Or the black?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, so long as I get to peel it off you when you come home,” Steve said, and Tony laughed, and shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly. He tilted his head, watching as Tony turned to face the mirror and held them both up to his body. “Does anyone else there dress as well as you?”

“Of course,” Tony answered, not even having to think about it. “Some of the board are even wealthier than me. Old-old-old money. The rock on Mrs. Minvera’s finger is worth more than my entire outfit will be.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He didn’t know why he was surprised, except that he’d once seen Tony’s credit card bill, and the number had about knocked him out. He watched as Tony casually tossed both suits onto one of the chairs next to the mirror, suddenly feeling vaguely nauseous. “Do you ever wish that I wore stuff like that?”

Tony scoffed, pulling Steve’s shirt over his head. “No? I’d prefer neither of us wear anything at all, but…” He paused, stilling in his movements, before he swung around, peering out of the collar of the shirt at Steve. “Why would you ask me that?”

Steve dropped his eyes, embarrassed. “Sometimes I worry I’m just… not up to par with you?”

“Not up to par? Why?” Tony asked bluntly, and then added, “That’s irrational. You are being irrational with me. I like you in your too-tight shirts and your wool socks and your old man khakis.”

Steve scowled, looking back up at him. “If you meant it, you could at least not call them old man khakis.”

Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “Chinos then.”

“Are you swearing at me?” Steve asked, sitting up a bit in offense. “Also, please stop having this conversation with me through the collar of my shirt. I feel like I’m having a conversation on a submarine.”

“Because you’ve been on so many submarines,” Tony scoffed, but obediently pulled the shirt off the rest of the way.

Steve was momentarily distracted at the hickeys that became visible on Tony’s hips and chest with the motion. He was quickly forced back to the situation at hand when Tony used his wadded-up shirt as a projectile. It hit him directly in the face. “Ow!” He tugged it off his face. “What was—did you wrap my shirt around a shoe?!”

“I needed extra weight to make sure it hit you,” Tony answered flatly. “I’ll need that back. Anyway,” he added, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you’re worried about someday meeting the board and getting their approval for whatever reason, stop. They won’t like you regardless. They barely like me.”

“Huh?!” Steve shouted.

“They didn’t like Howard or Obadiah either,” Tony continued blithely.

Steve stared at him for a moment, too stunned to speak. He couldn’t even really enjoy Tony’s nakedness. He didn’t understand rich people at all.

“Bruce,” Steve gasped, bursting into his lab.

Bruce jumped, hard, both his feet leaving the ground as he spun to face him. There was a green tinge around his eyes and nose for a moment. His chest heaved from the fright, and the more understanding that filled Bruce’s face, the more frustration joined it. He didn’t normally have to warn people not to freak him out more than once after they learned about the Hulk, after all.

Steve took a moment to feel sorry, because he really hadn’t meant to startle him. Then he charged onward, taking a step further into the lab. “Bruce, please tell me how I fucked up.”

“…Besides the obvious?” Bruce asked, waving a hand back and forth between them.

Steve thrust his phone out at him. “Please. He sent me a frown and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Bruce’s eyes crossed as Steve shoved the screen closer to his face. “…You responded to a text simply consisting of an eggplant and a donut with ‘no, thank you?’” He looked up at Steve, unable to help a frown of his own. “You know what the eggplant is supposed to signify, right?”

Steve hesitated. But then, Bruce didn’t look flustered, so. “A dick?”

“Okay, so you got that part right,” Bruce offered after a surprised pause.

“The donut threw me off. I’ve never seen the donut before,” Steve admitted. He paused, then corrected, “I’ve never seen it with the eggplant. He usually texts me that one while I’m on my morning runs to get donuts on my way home.”

“Maybe he sent the donut by mistake,” Bruce offered.

Steve looked at his phone screen and sighed, brows furrowing together. “I know Tony makes fun of me for typing things up, but at least it doesn’t leave room for miscommunication like emoji.” Bruce grimaced, and Steve caught it before he could school his face back. He huffed, feeling a little embarrassed. “What?”

“Text communication has its own hurdles,” Bruce began. He said it very diplomatically. It was the same tone he’d used in previous situations when Steve had unknowingly put his foot in it, and he felt like the guillotine was about to come down on him. “Tony asked what you liked in a date and you said you really liked the ones Natasha had brought you with the goat cheese and the bacon.”

“That’s because I couldn’t believe he was asking me out via text,” Steve exclaimed defensively.

Bruce blinked at him, unimpressed. “That’s because you weren’t getting the hint when he asked you out in person, Steve.”

“HUH,” Steve bellowed.

Bruce’s phone pinged before he could continue. He pulled his phone out as if Steve did not fully intend to interrogate him about his apparent previous obliviousness. “I hate it here,” he sighed.

Steve snatched the phone out of his hand. It was from Tony.

Who says no to sex and donuts?! 😠

“Fucking infuriating,” Steve said, then turned to storm upstairs. “Don’t bother us for like twelve hours.”

“Give me back my phone,” Bruce barked, and Steve wasn’t stupid enough to try him, so he scuttled back to hand it over to him.

Steve hummed as Tony began to shift beside him. Tony was a warm weight on top of his arm, breath puffing softly against his chest. He curled his arm in a little, pulling Tony closer so he could bury his face in his hair.

“Mmh,” Tony grunted, and Steve felt his eyelashes against his skin as Tony’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re still here?”

Steve blinked, frowning, then ground his teeth against a sting of hurt. “Did you really think I’d leave?”

Tony tipped his head back to meet his eyes, eyelids still heavy with sleep. “You’d be the first not to.”

Sleep made Tony honest, Steve thought, lifting his other hand to gently press the backs of his fingers to Tony’s cheek. He couldn’t imagine Tony ever admitting that if he were fully awake. He watched Tony lean into his touch, rubbing his cheek against his fingers like an affectionate cat, and wondered how the fuck anyone had managed to leave a bed with Tony in it.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to know how many people had left Tony to find the other side of the bed cold, hand reaching out for a body that wasn’t there. He wanted to know if Tony just expected him to leave because he was used to it, or if he actually thought Steve was the type of fella who’d fuck and run. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to put Tony’s mind at ease, make him realize that Steve was in this to stay.

“Can I kiss you all over?” he asked instead, carefully taking Tony’s chin between his thumb and index finger to tip his head back a little further.

Tony blinked at him again, slow and syrupy, and he watched as the question registered in his mind. His hair was sticking up in odd directions, and he had fabric marks on his cheek. It was the most beautiful he’d ever seen him. He wanted to see him like this every morning. He’d wait to tell him that, though, he thought, watching as Tony’s lips parted. Until they were a little more settled. Until Tony didn’t seem surprised when Steve stayed.

“Of course, Steve,” Tony answered, voice soft. His hand came up to wrap around Steve’s wrist, holding his hand steady so he could turn and press a kiss into his palm.

Steve slid his hand back into Tony’s hair, holding him steady as he leaned in to press their lips together. He thought that was a good place to start, kissing Tony until he was breathless and then trailing his kisses back to his ear, down his jaw and throat, until all Tony could do was gasp and moan beneath him.

“Steve?” Tony croaked, and then, louder, more distressed, “Steve?!”

Steve fought the urge to hold him tighter. His hands were numb, and the numbness was starting to spread up his arms, too cold even for gooseflesh to rise along his skin. He couldn’t risk hurting Tony when he was already injured. “Tony.”

“Where are we? What happened? Why are–it’s so cold,” Tony asked in a rush. He squirmed in Steve’s hold. “Did we… did we have a mission?”

“I thought I lost you,” Steve whispered into the back of his neck. “I still might. We’re snowed into a cave. I didn’t get a chance to send an emergency signal.”

“Oh,” Tony murmured, squirming slowing to a stop.

“That missile hit you, and you fell like a stone. I thought you’d died. But I was already so cold that I couldn’t tell when I finally got to the armor. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“…So…” Tony began slowly. “You didn’t even know if you were holding a corpse?”

Steve flinched, burying his face in Tony’s back with a shuddering sigh. No. He didn’t. The snow was already coming down heavily, visibility was down, he’d lost feeling in his hands trying to tear the icing armor off of Tony, and he’d worried that the warmth of Tony’s body against his numb fingers had been because he was so cold. Tony had gotten colder. He’d thought maybe he hadn’t had a heart beat left to heat him, even as he’d hoped it was just a normal reaction to the cold.

He would have held Tony until he was torn from his hands, though. Maybe even longer, if he still had strength.

“Okay,” Tony said, voice soothing, when Steve couldn’t bring himself to answer verbally. “Okay. I still have my watch gauntlet. I can send a beacon that way. We’re gonna be okay, Steve.” He shifted in Steve’s arms. “Is this—is this your top? Did you put it on me to keep me warm? Steve. You’ll freeze.”

“I survived it once before,” Steve answered mulishly, but only realized just how terrible it sounded when Tony couldn’t help an overwhelmed sob in response. The knowledge that Steve would strip off a desperately needed layer to put on someone he thought was dead, just in case, and end up freezing to death himself… it was probably shocking. Heartbreaking, maybe, if he allowed himself to think about it too much.

He didn’t tell Tony that he would do it again in a heartbeat. That seemed like too much when he was cold and injured.

Steve saw Natasha’s hand reaching for him and turned so his back was to her with a growl.

“Steve,” Tony sighed in his arms. He sounded tired. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Steve said. It only slurred off his tongue a little. He adjusted his arms around Tony and settled him more firmly in his lap. “Not possible.”

“You and Thor have been knocking back Asgardian mead for two hours,” Tony said, tipping his head back to frown sternly at him.

Steve did not like when Tony frowned sternly at him. He leaned down to pepper his face with kisses, because Tony never frowned when he did that.

“Steve, maybe wait until you get back to your room?” Bruce tried kindly. “Tony, could you maybe—”

Steve growled and turned again. “Go ‘way.”

“Steve, you can’t get jealous just because one of our other friends is talking to me,” Tony chided, frowning at him again.

“I’m not jealous,” Steve said. He noticed a hand reaching from around him and snarled, turning to snap at it with his teeth.

Natasha grabbed his face tightly, and he whimpered as she glared down at him. “Did you just try and bite me?”

Steve took a moment to think about it. He was in a very precarious position, probably. She could snap his neck. But! He had a stronger neck than she was used to. Maybe it would be fine. “Nnno,” he answered slowly. Just because it might be fine, he was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t like it if he had to watch him be murdered.

“Go to bed, Steve,” Natasha told him. There was a threat in her tone maybe? Steve couldn’t be sure. Her face was blurry.

“…Only if I can take Tony,” he decided.

Tony swiveled his head to glare at him. “Of course I’m going with you. The novelty of me getting to take care of you is not lost on me.”

Steve immediately popped to his feet, swinging Tony up into his arms like a princess. Prince? He stared at Tony’s shocked face for a moment, then nodded firmly. Yes.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Tony sighed, exasperated.

Steve wasn’t sure he was talking about anything. “I should eat something,” he finally decided.

Tony patted his chest, shaking his head fondly. “I can order pizza.”

“I think I’ll eat you,” Steve plowed on, headed toward the elevator, but didn’t make it very far before Tony want back to frowning at him sternly. “Vitamin D.”

“WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT,” Tony bellowed, and Thor yanked Tony from Steve’s arms before Tony could thump him soundly about the head.

Steve scowled up at Thor’s blurry face. “Give him back.” He put up his fists. “Or else. He’s mine.”

“I hate it here,” Tony sighed as Thor passed him over to Natasha so they could start punching each other. “I should just leave them here.”

“Maybe we should order that pizza,” Natasha said, easing him down onto his feet, as Steve and Thor fended off the sudden broom attack that Clint went at them with.

“Tony,” Steve sighed, trudging after Tony as he stormed into their bedroom.

“I don’t want to talk to you, traitor,” Tony snapped, stomping over to the bed. He knelt down to grab out one of his suitcases, then stood again, throwing it onto the bed with jerky movements.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest with another sigh. When Tony ignored him, he leaned his shoulder against the doorway and watched as Tony stalked over to the dresser like a cat with wounded pride. “Would you feel better if I apologized?”

“No,” Tony answered immediately. He opened a drawer seemingly at random and began pulling out handfuls of clothing. “It was my fault for thinking that you might care.”

“Okay,” Steve muttered to himself, standing up straight again. He moved into the room carefully as Tony walked over to stuff his handfuls into the suitcase, because Tony could simply turn and fling it all at him. Luckily, Tony seemed too consumed by his offense to notice. He pulled out the wads of clothes as Tony swiveled to go grab something else, turning to walk over to the dresser and put it back in the drawer.

“I just can’t believe!” Tony exclaimed, grabbing shirts from hangers at random. He turned to stomp back over to the suitcase and fling them in. “Loki cursed me and you don’t even care!”

“Of course I care,” Steve sighed, walking back to the suitcase to take the shirts back out. He raised an eyebrow when he found most of them were his, then shrugged, turning to walk over to the closet. He considered hanging everything up again, then shoved it on a shelf at random. It didn't matter. They were his. “We all care, Tony.”

“Not enough!” Tony barked, moving back toward the dresser. He opened a different drawer and grabbed just as blindly as he had before. “No one cares that I’m benched, that I have morning sickness, that I—”

“We all care, Tony,” Steve repeated sternly.

“The male body was not meant for carrying a baby!” Tony exclaimed, flinging his handfuls into the suitcase. He let out a snarl when Steve came and grabbed the clothes back out. “I am not overreacting!”

Steve did not allow a sigh that time. “I didn’t say you were,” he answered carefully.

“I’m allowed to be upset!” Tony snapped. “Everything hurts and I’m scared and doctors keep poking me!”

Steve turned to face him, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms over his chest again. “I never said you weren’t allowed to be upset, either. I know this sucks for you, Tony. I’m the one who rubs your aching feet and back. I’m the one who holds you when you’re overwhelmed. And I’m the one who yells at the doctors when they get too interested in poking you. I don’t like it when you’re upset, sweetheart. What caused this? What can I do to help?”

Tony looked uncertain for a moment. “…Clint ate my last green jello,” he finally said, and his face began to crumple. “And now he’s going to feel bad. But I don’t want him to feel bad. I just want my jello.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve sighed, rushing toward him to pull him into his arms as Tony began to sniffle. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“I hate feeling like this,” Tony whimpered into his chest. “It isn’t fair.”

Steve buried his face in Tony’s hair and sighed again, feeling helpless. “Yeah, I know. It isn’t fair. Loki was an asshole and you’re the one having to suffer for it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell Clint,” Tony whispered.

“I won’t,” Steve promised, rubbing his hand up and down Tony’s back. Once Tony’s breath had settled, he leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow. “Where were you going to go, anyway?”

Tony blinked back at him for a moment, considering. Finally, he answered with a simple, “Away.”

“Of course,” Steve huffed, and while it was a struggle not to roll his eyes, he managed it. The last time he’d rolled his eyes while Tony had still felt vulnerable, Tony had sicced Happy on him in a fit of rage, and Steve had unfortunately learned that Happy carried a special Superhero Specific Taser and he was always one hundred percent on Tony’s side. “Well. Let’s get this suitcase put away, and JARVIS can order some more green jello, and—”

“And peanuts,” Tony added.

“And peanuts,” Steve agreed. “And I’ll rub your feet until it arrives. Okay? I’m here to help you solve your problems.”

“Kill Loki,” Tony said. “It would solve a lot of problems.”

Steve huffed, face going sour. “I’ve tried. Thor won’t let me.”

Tony jerked his head back to stare up at him, shocked. Finally, though, a slightly hysterical laugh tore out of his throat, and Steve leaned down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth before he could somehow find a way to be sad again.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Steve didn’t turn from where he was staring out at the vast gardens behind the Stark mansion. He’d seen everyone’s eyes dart to him after he’d shattered a champagne glass in his hand and then quickly dart away. Of course he was jealous. Everyone had been able to see it.

Everyone but Tony.

“If Tony had his way, he wouldn’t have to put up with this yearly knot market,” Jim said, stepping up beside him. He leaned his arms on the balcony railing and sighed, dropping his head so he could stretch his shoulders. “But, his parents came from a different time. His mom came from a different culture. And his board of directors thinks he needs to be controlled. So, he has to have these yearly courting balls if he wants to stay on everyone’s good side.”

“I thought things would have changed by now,” Steve muttered darkly.

“Things have changed,” Jim answered. “Tony has more rights now than he did when his parents died. Most of that is because he funded all the groups fighting for them. If he was anyone but Tony Stark, he could probably stop.” He turned to give Steve a sharp look. “But he isn’t. He’s Tony Stark. People expect things from him. His yearly courting ball is on par with the Met Gala. Even if he got married, he’d still have to throw these stupid things.”

Steve huffed, scowling. “It’s still not right. Tony’s a person, not a piece of meat.”

Jim somehow looked even more annoyed. “Then fucking do something about it, Steve. He’s been waiting for the right alpha for fucking decades.”

“Why would he want me?” Steve asked, even as he stood up straight at the thought that Tony just might.

“Probably,” Jim ground out, scowling at him. “Because you’re not one of those alphas dogging him inside.”

Steve blinked at him, mouth dropping open a little. Tony had always bitterly complained about many alphas following him around just for a chance at controlling something about him–his money, his company, his body. They wanted things about him, never the whole.

Steve wanted everything about him. But if he couldn’t have it, he’d be okay just having Tony’s heart.

“Was he waiting for me?” Steve asked, just to be sure.

Jim leaned back against the balcony and crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at him somehow… smugly? “I think Tony was waiting for someone who wondered if he’d be enough, instead of all those people who assumed they were.”

Steve turned and headed for the door, not willing to wait a moment longer with the confirmation he’d gotten. Tony had waited long enough.

Besides. He didn’t think he’d be allowed another drink if he kept breaking glasses in jealous frustration.

Steve heard Tony start to grumble and got up from the couch so he could go start breakfast. “Your pain pills and a glass of water are on the side table.” The grumbling got louder. “Do not swallow the pills dry. The water is to hydrate you, not to take the pills with.”

“Mrgh,” Tony said behind him.

Steve paused in his work, waiting to hear anything after. He heard reluctantly gulping and nodded to himself, pleased. He was drinking, at least. “What sounds good? Omelette, or pancakes?”

“Mmmm,” Tony answered. It sounded slightly distressed.

Steve immediately turned to look at him, concerned. The pills were gone from the table, he noticed, and the glass of water was empty. The pudding cup he’d left out for him in an effort to bribe him into taking the pills was untouched. He hadn’t even moved the spoon. Tony looked just as distressed as he’d sounded, looking around the living room warily, mouth a flat line and eyebrows furrowed down in an expression of distrust.

Steve set the carton of eggs down and made his way over to him. “Tony? What’s wrong?”

Tony’s head swiveled like a bobble-head’s, shaky and slow. He blinked up at Steve, eyes going glassy. “Home?”

It almost punched the air from his lungs. “Yeah,” Steve answered, hoping it didn’t sound as gruff as it felt as he tried not to let out a sob. He knelt beside the armchair Tony was lying on, taking one of Tony’s hand’s between both of his own. “Yeah, Tony, you’re home. We got back from the hospital yesterday, and your leg is in a cast. I’m here taking care of you.”

“Home?” Tony asked again, but this time there was a hopeful lilt to it.

“Yeah,” Steve answered again, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of his hand. He remembered, suddenly, that the doctor had said Tony could have some adverse reactions to the anesthesia. He’d probably just been confused, and it would wear off more the longer it was out of his system. “Yeah, we’re home. Do you want anything, sweetheart? Anything I can do for you?”

“Kiss me?” Tony asked, somehow even more hopeful, as if Steve could ever say no to him. Steve stood again, bending down so he could carefully press a kiss to Tony’s forehead. When he leaned back, Tony was frowning at him, eyes wide and liquid. “No lip kisses?” he asked, sounding distressed again.

Steve carefully cradled Tony’s face in both hands, thumbs rubbing over Tony’s cheekbones gently. When Tony blinked up at him, waiting, he leaned in further and gently pressed their lips together. It was quick, shorter than he’d like, just a firm press-and-retreat, but he was testing–Tony was still obviously out of sorts. He could kiss him again if Tony wanted, but he didn’t want to leave him feeling smothered, either.

Tony blinked at him slowly when he pulled back. Steve waited patiently for his response. “Wow,” Tony finally said, and Steve couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped in response if he tried.