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They make a good team.
All of them, really. They’re an odd bunch, sure, but it works somehow. It’s a weird fantasy come true, a fast-paced life with an unexpected dash of domesticity – or as domestic as they can be, with two spies, a rage monster, a literal god, basically a time-traveler, and Tony himself.
It’s not peaceful, but they’re good.
They share the Tower and rarely have accidents or dangerous fights with each other instead of villains, which he feels like it’s definitely a point in their favor. A few things are still complicated here and there. Bruce struggles with sharing quarters, for obvious reasons, Thor spends long stretches of time away, and Natasha and Barton can’t simply shed away years and years of keeping secrets so close to their hearts just like that. Even Rogers, Mr. American Dream, is not as loving and fluffy as his perfect blond hair and blue eyes make him seem. The guy has a mean Disappointment glare, colder than the Alps. And it’s very easy to disappoint him, with how freaking demanding he is.
And Tony knows his problems. We don’t really need to go into detail.
But it is getting better. Despite it all, they do find themselves into a routine, into an almost unconscious acceptance and synchrony with each other’s habits, even when those habits are strange. They even find common ground in strangeness sometimes – Like Natasha and Bruce and their mutual love for super spicy food, Thor and Clint’s loud cheering for the NBA games playing on the big screen, and, yes, even Tony and Steve’s surprisingly similar sleep schedules.
The guy says he doesn’t need to sleep as much anymore, after the serum, and Tony insists he doesn’t need sleep, because he’s decided that he doesn’t.
That’s enough understanding for them.
Their relationship gets better too, Tony knows. It’s clear to see, as they stop going for each other’s throats all the time. They’re not best friends or anything, despite Tony’s constant insistence in rubbing the fact that he works with Captain America in Rhodey’s face, but they’re friends now. Friendly, at least. It’s hard, talking to Steve – it doesn’t take long for Tony to realize the guy does have a sense of humor, and it’s a lot drier and cutting than the perfect persona would make you assume, but even past that, he is very reserved, almost to the point of being strange, sometimes.
But they’re getting better.
But not so much better that they would be this. Or should be this.
But this, Tony will admit, is kind of his fault.
One night, after too many bad movies and an ungodly amount of cheap microwaveable popcorn, maybe with a sip or two of his best brandy, Tony finds himself alone with Steve in the common room.
It doesn’t happen often. And maybe it’s the strangeness of it that causes it all.
Halfway into their completely unrelated conversation, Tony realizes they are sitting very close to each other. And that translates wrong on the way to his brain.
So Tony pulls him in for a kiss.
It’s impulsive, the same way it was with Pepper years ago, when the urge simply boils over and his body acts faster than his brain could decide it’s a bad idea. And it might be a bad idea. But it’s too late.
Steve’s lips are soft, but unmoving beneath his own.
For a second, he thinks Steve will punch him – but he quickly tells himself no. He wouldn’t. Steve’s not like that. Maybe he’ll scream at Tony’s face, it’s been a while since they’ve done that but it’s definitely a classic, but the screaming is usually an impulsive reaction, and Steve is not reacting impulsively. He’s not reacting at all, in fact. Tony doesn’t move either, half-frozen in place, and he acutely tastes the champagne and feels the incredible warmth of Steve’s body for what feels like an eternity, and as nice as that is, he is very aware that this is an awful, awkward kiss.
Panic makes him pull back too soon, and at the sight of Steve’s pure bafflement, he feels his stomach sink to the ground.
“Sorry about that.” Tony mumbles, twisting his lips, embarrassed. “Had a little too much, I think.”
“Are you making fun of me?” Steve asks in a rush, voice hard.
“I – What? Am I making fun of you?” Tony repeats, incredulous, and Steve’s expression clouds so quickly that he immediately hastes to correct himself. “No! Of course not, why would I—”
“It’s not really a wild assumption to make, Tony.” Steve points out, and that inexplicably hurts far more than it should.
“I take offense that you would think I would somehow set you up with a kiss, of all things.” Tony says, dramatically, hoping it’s not obvious that he is, in fact, genuinely a little offended.
He doubts Steve will see it, though. He looks livid.
“You’re telling me this wouldn’t be some sort of prank, let’s kiss the guy from the forties and see how he reacts to being kissed by a man.”
“Steve, I know you’re not a homophobe.” Tony reasons. “You can’t be, in this team. You would have quit by now. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and Bruce are the minority here.”
“Bruce is not straight.” Steve jabs back, with surprising assertiveness. “And neither am I.”
“W—” Tony stumbles over his words, confused. “You’re not?”
Steve doesn’t reply, but his jaw is locked tight, and Tony fears he’ll shatter his teeth.
“Then why are you upset?” He asks, a little insensitively, maybe, but it’s such genuine shock that he can’t even think twice before blurting out the words.
Steve does not reply. Instead, he pauses, and then blurts out like an accusation:
“Do you mean it?”
“The kiss?” Tony blinks. “Yes. You’re… You are nice to look at, Cap. Don’t know if anyone has ever told you that.”
Steve grabs him by the shirt and pulls him in, and kisses him back.
He kisses like he fights. Hard. Demanding.
Tony has never been the kind of man to run away from a fight.
Tony doesn’t know why he imagined that sex would make Steve relax, but it doesn’t. It’s almost absurd. Maybe because that’s what sex is meant to do, it’s what most people feel like after a mind-blowing orgasm, they relax.
And Tony will assume it was mind-blowing, it certainly looked like it, and anything less than that would be a hit to his ego. Supersoldier stamina is no joke, and Tony got through it, dammit.
But not Steve Rogers. Of course.
Tony can admit this is not his finest moment. It was… sudden, and Steve had not been fully convinced Tony wasn’t pulling his leg, at least not until Tony kneeled and started pulling down his pants. Tony doesn’t know if Steve’s willingness to follow him to the bedroom had been really out of uncontainable desire – which Tony would like to believe it was, at least it was for him – or just he’d been going along waiting for Tony to crack and admit it had been a joke, and then, when Tony threw him on the bed, he realized it wasn’t.
Maybe they should have stopped, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do now; It’s not every day someone sleeps with Tony and still gives him the cold shoulder.
Before leaving the bed, that is.
“Is everything okay?” Tony risks asking, because he really can’t decipher the troubled look on Steve’s face.
Steve makes an odd pause. “Are you going to tell anyone about this?”
Tony blinks, confused. “Why would I?”
Steve’s brows furrow. It’s almost as intimidating as his Disappointment glare.
“What do you get out of this?” He asks.
Tony resists the urge to balk. “I’m sorry, did you fall asleep somewhere between then and now? Rhetorical question, I know you didn’t, I have proof.”
Steve looks down at his own stomach, yeah, Steve, and his cheeks go pink, just a little.
“What do you get out of this?” Tony throws back at him, feeling a little spiteful.
Steve stares at him for a second, face carefully blank – but his eyes are sharp, thoughts running at lightning speed. Tony knows that look.
“I don’t know.” Steve admits, but it barely sounds like an admission. It sounds more mysterious, more guarded, just… more. “But I’m not complaining it happened.”
Tony clicks his tongue, hesitant. “That’s… good.”
Christ, this is awkward.
“Sorry if this was…” Tony clears his throat, bashful, if a little late for it. “Sudden.”
Steve makes a face. “You didn’t force me, Tony. I came here willingly.”
“Easy joke there, but I’m gonna let it slide.”
“Pointing it out is the opposite of letting it slide.”
“So you want to do this?” Tony presses, his pulse picking up speed at the possibility. “Or is it – or does it stop here?”
Steve, infuriatingly, says:
“I don’t know.” A ghost of a smirk dances around the corners of his mouth. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Tony repeats. “Maybe what?”
Steve huffs out the shortest of laughs, weirdly smug.
Maybe. How dare he.
Tony would make a joke about this hurting his ego, but he doesn’t – no need to give Steve any more ammo if he’s not gonna play nice.
It’s yes. The answer is yes.
Tony knows it, because the second time it happens, Steve is the one who kisses him.
And the bastard still had teased him. Maybe.
Tony’s hand is cramping by the time they’re done, but Steve is no longer smug about anything.
Nothing changes during the day. They do drills, they share the common spaces, they go to SHIELD meetings. They have Movie Nights, they argue over takeout, they are friends.
And every other night, they fall into bed together.
It’s surprising, how it works. How well it works.
It only takes a few encounters for Tony to realize something unexpected – Steve is… quiet. In all senses of the word. He’d known that, on some level; For all his size, Steve is very good at stealth, his steps are light and he’s incredibly agile. More than once he has entered the kitchen so silently he startled Clint, who is an actual spy. Those long spaces of time where he disappears too – disappears is almost accurate, because even if he is in the Tower, he’s locked in his own quarters, without so much a word to everyone else, maybe doing art or going through his insane training regimen, or whatever it is that he does all those days by himself. Tony doesn’t actually know what he does, and he doesn’t feel like he can ask.
It was odd, but Tony respects the guy’s privacy. Everyone needs their alone time, and Tony suspects Steve might need his more than most – the future, the present is overwhelming, and his senses are enhanced. Some days, even the sound of the coffee machine beep gets on Tony’s nerves, he can’t imagine what a guy like Steve must go through.
But between them? Just them?
It bothers Tony more than it has any right to.
“These walls are soundproof, you know?” Tony comments offhandedly, turning his head to the side so he can look at Steve’s face, the plush pillows nice and soft on his skin. “You don’t have to worry.”
Steve raises an eyebrow at him, and says nothing.
“I saw you bit your lip so hard I almost thought you were gonna bleed all over my pillows.” An exaggeration, but these really are really nice pillows.
“Your pillows are safe.” Steve assures.
“That’s not the point.” Tony rebukes, as gently as possible. “I’m saying you don’t have to be afraid of making noise. Actually, I would really like it if you made noise. Can’t say it’s a turn-off, really.”
“When you get used to being silent in the barracks,” Steve replies, slowly. “It’s a hard habit to break.”
Oh.
“Yeah, I guess it would be.” Tony concedes, dismayed.
Of course. Soldier. Right, Tony had forgotten that.
“It’s just easier that way. Everyone did it.” Steve explains, but Tony isn’t sure if it’s meant to be a comfort or something else. He’s not sure if Steve knows either, from the distant look on his face. “Whether they were alone or… with another soldier, it’s just safer if no one can hear you. Even if everyone knows it happens.”
Another soldier. “Did you…?”
“With other soldiers? No.” It’s unsurprising Steve catches so quickly Tony’s implicit question. He might have even prompted in on purpose, and Tony simply fell for the bait. “I was—”
“Waiting on a fine lady, I heard?”
“Yeah.” Steve agrees with a sigh, but he sounds sorrowful. “And I couldn’t risk it. Not before the serum, and definitely not after.”
Not being a public figure. Not while being Captain America.
Steve Rogers. Always duty over anything else.
“But you wanted to.” Tony dares to assume.
“Yeah.” Steve breathes. “Maybe.”
It’s strange, to think Steve could have been… what, afraid? Afraid of something. Of acting on his attraction to men.
“It’s not risky now.” Tony tells him, softly.
“I know.” Steve replies, just as softly. “That’s why I’m here.”
Is that the only reason why you’re here?, Tony wants to ask.
Why is that a reason?
Why are you here really?
He doesn’t.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it.
Tony assumes the others don’t know. Neither about their situation, nor about Steve himself.
His liking men, Tony means.
It’s hard to tell, especially with two spies on the house. But then again, Tony hadn’t known about Bruce either, but Steve apparently did, so information clearly goes around in odd ways in this Tower. He’s certain Steve wouldn’t out Bruce if it was a secret, not after the… conversation, after all that talk about risk. It told him a lot more about Steve than Steve probably intended.
He wonders if Steve’s afraid. It’s hard to imagine him being afraid of anything, but then again, Tony didn’t imagine they would ever sleep together, either.
Despite his teenage fantasies. Anyway.
Steve had asked what Tony would get out of their arrangement, but truth is, Tony thinks Steve is getting something out of it he doesn’t want to admit. Or maybe something he doesn’t even realize he’s getting in the first place. It’s hard for him to pinpoint what it is, because he has never been particularly good at feelings, but it is in Tony’s very nature to guess. To theorize. To observe and draw conclusions.
Steve is wound up so tight it’s a wonder he hadn’t seen it before. And he’s choosing Tony, of all people, to sleep with, because he thinks Tony won’t try to push through his defenses at all. Tony, the playboy, Tony, the guy who was built for casual sex.
Everyone remembers he’s his father’s son. Unattached, wild, selfish.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it?
People often underestimate how much of Maria he has in him.
What makes you tick? Tony thinks.
To the armors, to cars, to wires.
What ails you, dear?
It’s just his nature.
“Hey.” Tony calls, softly. “Soundproof walls, remember?”
Steve flushes a nice, cute tone of pink, all the way down his neck.
“You don’t need another ego boost.” He replies, but surprisingly, he’s smirking.
“Really?” Tony frowns, jokingly. “I thought I could use some incentive here.”
“Yeah, because this is so difficult for you.” Steve jabs, surprisingly humorous, despite the fact that his voice still has an edge of defensiveness to it.
That’s true. But why would he miss the chance to tease Steve, anyway?
“I’m not complaining, but you do remember that I’m not the one with superhuman stamina here, right?” Tony pokes fun, bringing himself up to lean over Steve’s chest, reaching up to kiss him. Steve doesn’t deny him, despite knowing exactly where Tony’s mouth has been, and something about it – the banter, the blush on his face, the weird intimacy they’ve cultivated for each other – has Tony feeling a lot more daring than he has been in all the past times they’ve slept together.
He shifts on his knees, so they can hold his weight – and brings his hands up to cradle Steve’s face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, palms hot on his neck. It’s slow, and sensual, and far, far too loving for what they have.
Steve whines. It’s a sound Tony has never heard him make before.
Tony’s brows shoot up, a sudden realization sparking through him. Touch starvation.
Tony’s so stupid. How has he not seen it – touch starved. Steve is fucking touch starved, just like Rhodey used to be after his first few tours. Suddenly, it all clicks together – the willingness to jump to sex despite being embarrassed for wanting it, harsh kisses, as if he didn’t know how to do it any other way, but always so eager to when Tony turns his lips gentle, the… The fact that he goes so quiet, so pliable, and even though Tony doesn’t push him too much, he could, he totally could, and Steve would let him—
Tony runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, soft and golden, a lot more tenderly than he should, for what their relationship actually is.
But he doesn’t care. Steve goes stiff, for barely more than a second, and then he melts into the pillows, shoulders finally dropping in relaxation.
Touch. And more than that – gentle touch.
Dammit. Tony really is an idiot.
For not realizing.
And maybe also for not stopping.
Maybe he is afraid. Maybe. Desperate for touch, for anything but violence, but unable to stomach a compromise – so he chooses Tony.
For a master tactician, Steve can be pretty stupid.
If he’s afraid of getting attached, he should have chosen someone else.
“What is it?” Steve frowns when they break apart from a kiss, confused as to why Tony is not following him eagerly into the elevator.
“You know what?” Tony licks his lips, but stops, and has an idea. “I’m hungry.”
Steve blinks. “What?”
“Wanna go get dinner?”
“Tony.” Steve says, slowly. “Why would we get dinner now?”
“It is dinner time.”
“I thought you wanted—”
“I do.” Tony assures, but he’s quick to add, “But I’m sort of starving here. I skipped lunch, actually, so I could really use a bite before we go, you know, do some exercise.”
Steve lets out an exasperated huff.
“Alright.” He says, but he doesn’t sound frustrated at all. “What did you have in mind?”
They don’t have sex when they come back. And it’s not weird.
They go up the elevator together, but Steve leaves on his floor.
Better yet – he starts to leave, but then he stops, he turns, and unexpectedly, he kisses Tony.
It’s surprisingly chaste.
And then he goes.
His ears are pink.
Oh. Great.
Tony, tony, tony.
Look at what you’ve done.
They start to go on what Tony can only describe as dates. Friendly dates? Hard to say, because he thinks Steve is… Well, maybe. Maybe Tony’s just reading too much into it. He wouldn’t dare to ask, but sometimes, he suspects.
Maybe he should stop. He doesn’t know. Maybe. That would be the sensible thing to do, right?
But Steve’s not stopping. So Tony isn’t either.
Because why should he? Steve’s been – Steve has been so much better these days. Do you even know how long it has been since Steve last disappeared into his room for days on end? So long Tony doesn’t even remember. The guy is – he laughs, open and full-chested, he doesn’t look like he’s holding the entire world on his shoulders anymore, he sleeps with Tony, actual sleep, these days. They both sleep. This is the weirdest situation Tony has ever been in, but also, Tony has never been so at ease around Steve before. Around anyone, at least someone he’s in sort of a relationship with, before.
And Tony’s intense with his affections. Because he does have affection for Steve, alright, it’s not… They’re not like that, but Tony does care for him. He cares a lot. So yes, they go to dinner, and Tony starts spending more time with Steve as he catches up with the movies he lost, as he brings up questions after finishing one of the many history books he has bought, as Tony gifts him a phone and they spend hours arguing over whether he should have a Twitter account or not. It’s so ridiculously mundane, Tony hasn’t had anything like it in years.
He can’t give it up. He can’t.
He's - Steve needs this. And Tony wants to give it to him. To give him something safe to hold on to, something he's not afraid of, something of theirs.
“Want to go have dinner?” Steve asks, smiling.
“Sure.” Tony replies, a little dazed.
He can’t quit it.
Maybe Steve is not the only one getting far more out of this than he should. Alright? Tony’s in this too. And Tony doesn’t want to leave.
But now he’s aware of it, he can’t shut it down anymore.
Steve speaks, now.
He speaks of the men, at first. The army. Safe territory, ground they had already lightly trodden – a safe bet, but one Tony’s far too eager to accept. Maybe he’s also the stupid one here. But he would never deny Steve a willing ear, or a hug, or a kiss, not when Steve asks, not when Steve offers.
Tony feels like he’s starving too. What for, he doesn’t know.
Tony asks him, if he’s afraid. It is a testament to how much he’s come to know Steve, when the response he gets is exactly what he imagined it would be. He gets defensive, but not nearly as much as he used to – what would be the point, if they’re both here, in bed, and they have been over and over again? Denial is only as effective as the strength it takes to keep yourself away.
He doesn’t admit he’s afraid. That doesn’t really surprise Tony.
But he admits that he was.
Tony strokes his hair. Steve sighs into his neck, oddly sleepy, and presses a fleeting kiss there. Tony lays his cheek on Steve’s temple, pressing his lips to skin, in a soft, shy retribution.
“And now?” Tony asks.
“Now I have you.” Steve says, almost too low to be heard.
He speaks of the army. Then, of the ice. Of waking up. Of wandering. Of feeling lost.
Things he wouldn’t have told anyone else. Tony knows.
Steve is quiet.
But his love is loud.
It’s not perfect.
Sometimes, after battle, they struggle. Like matches, when provoked with sparks of violence they burn, and they fall back into the old ways. It doesn’t last long, though – actually, every time it happens, it lasts less and less.
But every time they come back, it’s better.
It’s almost scary. How good it is.
They’re not the most functional people, but it’s nice. They fit nicely, together. They’re both men of action, but they’ve learned to use words so differently in their lives – Steve to attack, Tony to deflect, it’s strangely fitting that they would meet in the middle by doing the exact opposite.
When in action Steve leads, and Tony follows – Tony opens his arms, and Steve follows.
“I got you.” Tony whispers to him, and he wonders – no, he knows – that as Steve places his head on Tony’s chest, tracing the edges of the Reactor with gentle fingertips, that he can hear Tony’s heart fluttering in his ribs. “We got this, Steve.”
Tony is not a man of faith, or fate, for that matter – but even scientists love symmetry. Opposing forces, balancing points; There is something meaningful to it either way, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. And he doesn’t try very hard.
Maybe that’s why it works. He’ll have to test that theory.
He likes that. He wants to. He wants to stick around, he wants – he wants to keep sleeping, and joking, and learning more. He wants to put in the work to slowly chip away the fortress walls Steve Rogers has raised around himself.
And maybe Steve can do the same to him. Who knows?
Tony is loud. Like he said, he knows his problems. But he can love quietly.
They’ve got time.
They’ll make it work.