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Steve thinks it's become Tony's dirty little secret.
Dirty, because Tony would never consider it clean. Or real. Dirty, because Tony will approach him at the oddest hours of the night, head bowed and body tense, and say 'take me out of my head.'
And Steve will always oblige. He's oblige because Tony's a sub, and he doesn't want to see him suffer. He'll oblige because Tony is beautiful when he's under. He'll oblige because he doesn't think Tony has anyone else.
He tries not to feel letdown when Tony does not reciprocate his feelings. When, after having spent the whole night holding him, stroking his hair, listening to him beg for endearments, Tony will wake up and nod. Thank him, and leave.
Oh, you're a good boy, Tony. Such a good boy. Yes, you are. Yes, I said that. Tony, you're a good boy, do I have to spell it out? Tony. Yes, Tony, you are. Tony, stop asking. You're a good boy. Such a good boy. Yes, Tony, you are. You are. You want to hear it again? What a surprise.
No. That sounds, that sounds harsh. Steve would never be one to mock subs for what they want when they're under. That's cruel. Harsh. Unnecessary. Steve's known subs who like to be told all kinds of things. If Tony wants to be a good boy, well, then, that's that. He can't change it.
But after thirteen separate occasions, Steve's staring to wonder what he might be doing wrong. Why else wouldn't Tony be more --
You know. Why wouldn't he want to --
Take it to the next level?
Maybe Steve is being unreasonable. Maybe that's it. He doesn't think what they have is normal; he doesn't like that Tony uses him like a drug, something to stock him up and forget about the next day. He doesn't like feeling that the only reason Tony gives him the time of day is because no one else wants to sleep with him.
Fuck, there it is again. That's not what Steve meant. Plenty of people want to sleep with Tony. Tony has, he's admitted that people don't treat him right, they don't give him what he needs. Steve has no right to be pissy about it, no matter how put out he feels.
But he broaches the subject, one night. Tony's shivering, a warm ball in his lap, wearing the collar Steve gave him. He wears the same collar for all their transactions, and yet will not let Steve ask about the possibility of a contract.
Steve hums. "You know," he says casually "I called a contractor today."
Tony freezes; he looks up at Steve with wide, innocent eyes. "You called," Tony blinks "a contractor? Why? Are you -- " he looks away "you have a sub." He mumbles, pulling away. "I'm sorry."
"No," Steve says softly, taking his chin in his fingers and tilting up his head "not at all. I called because I was interested, maybe, in having a contract with you."
Tony stares at him. "With me?" He whispers. "With -- "
"We've been doing this awhile." Steve says. "You... you wear my collar."
Tony's hands fumble with the clasp on his neck, shaking. "Take it," he blurts "take it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I thought -- take it."
"Tony," Steve soothes "sweetie, you're still under. Relax."
"I don't," Tony says, fevered "I don't, if the collar, if it means, I -- I'm sorry. I thought it was, it was -- I didn't realise. Please, take it. I'm sorry. We don't, we don't have to do it. I'll pay you back, I'll," Tony scrambles over the bed, standing, throwing the collar to the bed "no contract. I won't contract with you, I won't. Just -- take it."
Steve blinks. "You just threw it away." He says, and even he's struggling to keep the shock from his voice. "Tony! You can't just -- "
Tony is trembling, hand braced on the wall. "No contract." He repeats "No. I -- I'm so under, I can't," he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands "can't think." He mutters.
Steve pushes back pillows and stands. "You're under," he says "you're right, it's not fair. I shouldn't ask you things like this when you're not thinking straight. Here," Steve hands him the collar "take it."
Tony stares at it, and then at Steve. He shakes his head, sucks in a breath. "No," he breathes "no, no, I can't. No."
Steve blinks. "Tony?"
He reaches for the door, hand twisting the handle. "Goodnight," he mumbles "or, or good morning. I -- bye, bye Steve."
"You're naked." Steve blurts. "Just, hold on, take this -- "
Tony snatches the blanket from Steve's hands, wraps it around himself. He tugs at the door, keeps his eyes low. "Bye." He mutters again.
Steve almost says 'wait' but then he's gone, and he's left holding the collar he had given Tony all those weeks ago. He stares at the leather in his hand, and then back at the door.
Something tells him it didn't go well.
Tony approaches him, the next day. Dressed for business, on his way to a meeting. Steve sits at the table, and Tony fixes his coffee at the counter.
They don't look at each other, or even fully acknowledge each other's presence.
"It has to stop." Tony says lowly, stirring in sugar. "We can't see each other anymore."
Steve flicks through the paper. "You're the one who came to me." He reminds him.
"Yeah well not anymore." The spoon hits the granite tabletop with a sharp noise.
"Is there something so wrong with wanting a contract?"
"I don't do those."
"So I've noticed."
Tony rests his hands on the counter, bows his head. "I didn't want it to go this far." He mutters. "It was -- I was weak."
"Stop denying yourself."
"I'll see a professional, from now on. I'll see someone else."
"You really want that?"
A pause. "It doesn't matter." Tony replies. "We're... friends. It was stupid of me to even go back to you in the first place. I'm sorry."
Steve ignores the stab of hurt. "Keep the collar."
"No."
Steve tries again. "A professional won't know you like I do."
Tony takes his coffee and turns. "I'll live." He says shortly.
Steve is angry, after that. Angry enough that he ignores Tony. Which is silly, and petty, and childish, because Tony is within his rights to not want to continue what they had. It's just that Steve likes him. He really, really likes him. And he can't help blaming himself for pushing the whole contract thing. Maybe, if he had left it, Tony would still be warming the foot of his bed.
So half out of anger and half out of worry about what he would do if he did talk to Tony, Steve leaves him alone. Or not; it's more like he wilfully chooses not to speak when Tony starts a conversation. He leaves the room when he walks in. Tony threw back his collar. He literally threw it on the bed. Steve doesn't know how he's supposed to react to that.
Not that Tony's any better. Passive aggressive comes to mind. He leaves his dirty mugs on Steve's papers, refuses to hold the door open. They work well enough, in the training simulations and the field, but inside the tower it's war.
Neither have spoken a word to each other outside of muttered insults and barked instructions in over a month when it happens.
"Tony," Steve says "Tony."
The man is caught in conversation with an agent, speaking animatedly, helmet tucked under his arm. He sees Steve coming and ignores him, sees the anger radiating off him and rolls his eyes.
"Hey." Steve says, stopping behind him. "Hey, can you hear me?"
"Sorry about this." Tony says to the agent. "The Captain gets a little testy sometimes. You know how it is."
Steve grabs Tony's arm. "What the hell is wrong with you." He growls "What the hell was that?"
Tony wrenches free. "Don't touch me."
"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"I don't need to listen to your orders, Sir."
"You do when it involves smashing into a wall at high speed."
"I knew the math. I could bank in time."
"You didn't know that."
"I lost the missile."
"It blew up a building."
"What, as opposed to me? What are you getting at, Steve? Are you angry it didn't hit me, or that I didn't listen to your orders?"
"Neither. I'm angry you could have died and you wilfully disobeyed me so you -- "
Tony laughs. "Wilfully disobeyed? Fuck off, Steve, I took a different route. I didn't disobey you, I rejected your command, subs disobey their doms and I'm not -- "
"You know what I mean." Steve grits.
"Do I? I don't think I do, you sanctimonious -- "
"You could have killed yourself and for what. The sake of an argument? So you could just, what, show everyone how brave you are? How strong? How you're just an independent sub who doesn't need to obey commands even to the point of stupidity -- "
"Me? Me? Steve you've spent the past month ignoring me -- "
"It's a two way street, Tony."
"No, it's fucking not. I, I rejected your collar, okay? So what? You gonna cry about it? That's pathetic. Are you, you, you're just gonna ignore me because I don't want to fuck you? Did I never mean anything more than the promise of a good, hard fuck? Is that all you wanted? I don't owe you. I don't. You did what we did willingly, I didn't force you. I don't, I don't owe you a contract, or -- "
"We're not talking about that. We're talking about how you -- "
"Disobeyed, yeah, I got it. Did Clint disobey? When he went engine instead of the pilot, like you asked? Or was that him just using his experience to know that he had a better shot if he went for something else because he has more experience and you were wrong."
"Clint -- that's different."
"Is it really." Tony spits. "Really. Because I seem to remember -- "
"It's different, with him. It's a completely different thing."
"Of course it is. Because he's not a sub, is he?"
"No, because he wasn't risking his life."
Tony slams the helmet back on his head. "You're pathetic." He spits, voice cold behind the modulated helmet.
Steve steps back at the repulsers fire up. "You're reckless, Tony!" He shouts up at him "You're gonna kill someone!"
Iron Man regards him briefly from his perch in the sky, and then disappears, whipping leaves in his wake.
After that, Steve is so angry he needs to take three hours out to punch some bags.
And after that? Yeah. He comes to his senses, just a little bit.
Tony was right. He had probably panicked. Thrown Steve the collar because he hadn't wanted to feel obligated. Trapped. And, and then Steve had ignored him. It would have raised Tony's hackles. Given him little time to explain. Of course he was angry.
The contract thing is a different matter. They can talk about it, rationally, like adults. Steve will explain that it's not because he wants Tony to, to return on the help Steve's given him. He'll tell him that he likes him, very very much, and therefore was hurt by the idea that Tony did not. And if Tony says that he's not interested, well fine. Steve doesn't think he'll be able to help him go under, after that, but at least he'll have cleared the air.
So he makes his way up to Tony's floor, rehearsing what he's going to say. I'm sorry. You were right. Yeah, I know I'm an idiot.
He knocks on the bedroom door, once, but there's no reply. He knocks again. He inches open the door, and peers round the side.
Tony is sitting on the bed, and for a moment Steve can't work out what's going on, because he's blindfolded. But then he sees the headphones running to Tony's ears, hears his muttering.
"Yeah," he mumbles "I'm good. I'm good. I'm a good boy?"
Steve blushes a deep red, and he knows he should leave. He should just fucking turn around, because he should never see something like this, something so, so intensely private, and it's not fair that --
That Tony has to resort to this, because Steve was being childish.
Tony sucks in a breath, releases it, shuddering. Another deep breath in, and then out. Steve's ear can almost pick out the soothing voice from the headphones, murmuring something about being so perfect, so good, such a amazing sub.
Tony clears his throat. "I'm good." He whispers. "I did well. I did well. I was right. Dom's do not define you. Dom's do not -- "
Tony curses, hands flapping for his phone. He opens the screen and peeks out the blindfold, trying to bring the tape back to the point he wants. He settles back down, and opens his mouth.
"I did well." He says again. "I did well. I did well? I -- I was good." He takes in another deep breath, and this time his face crumples when he releases. "I was good." He says "I fucking was. I know, I know, I didn't mean -- "
"Tony." Steve says, voice low, practically inaudible, because he doesn't know if he wants Tony to hear him. "Tony. I."
Tony presses the heels of his hands to his covered eyes. "Shut up." He mutters "Just. Phew. Just take it slow, Stark."
He cleats his throat and sits up straight. Takes in a long breath, and sighs. "Okay," he murmurs "okay. I am a -- "
"Tony." Steve blurts, louder this time, and Tony freezes. One hand creeps up to his face, and his raises the blindfold.
"Steve." He whispers. "You -- " his face hardens "what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You said you'd see a professional." Steve says. "Not this, a real person. This does nothing, Tony, it means nothing."
"You, you -- " Tony is almost paralysed with anger "you -- how much did you see?!"
"Not a lot." Steve lies. "Not -- I just walked in." It occurs to him that he should have lied and said he had no idea what Tony was doing, but it's too late now.
"You saw nothing." Tony spits, stalking over to where he stands. "Understand? You saw nothing."
Steve holds up his hands. "I saw nothing." He agrees.
Tony turns, lowers his head. "You must be thrilled." He mutters.
"What, that you have to give into your human impulses? Not really. The opposite, in fact."
"Don't be so smug."
"I came to apologise."
Tony looks up. "Oh yeah."
"Yeah. Yes. I wanted to apologise and say... I was out of order. The way I acted. I was hurt, okay? I like you. And I don't want to shout like that. I never want to be the guy that makes their sub -- you know."
"I'm not yours."
"I know that." Steve says weakly. The headphones on the bed continue their muffled murmuring. Tony rips them from the phone.
"So what." Tony mutters. "You're here to -- "
"I want you to give me a second chance."
Tony swallows. "No."
Steve pauses. "No." He repeats, slowly.
"No. I -- it's unfair for me to use you. You were right. This isn't going anywhere. I don't want to... ruin it."
"You wouldn't consider a contract?"
"Never."
"Why not."
"I -- " Tony's face grows pained. "It closes too many doors."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not a prostitute. You can't just, just contract me -- "
"A contract is a beautiful thing. It doesn't have to be sexual."
"Then why can't we just keep doing what we're doing." Tony says, plaintively. "Why not? We've got a good thing, haven't we? It, it works."
"Relationships work both ways, Tony." Steve says quietly.
"I can do something more. I can make it worth your while. If -- " Tony pauses "if you want to, to hurt me," he says lowly "I can do that. I have floggers, paddles. There are things you can use."
"No! No. That's -- I'm not that kind of dom."
"Really?"
"I'm not going to hurt you so you can justify our relationship. I want a contract with you, Tony, because I like you, and I think there might be something here worth having. You're adamant you don't want one? Fine. But I can't keep... you know. Not when I know you don't feel the same way."
Tony looks down. "I didn't say that." He mumbles.
"Then," Steve reaches out his hand "let's do it properly."
Tony stares at him for awhile. And then he snorts. "Dream on, Captain." He says dismissively. "Get out."
Steve stares at him. "Have I hurt you, in some way?"
"No."
"Then is there a reason you're talking to me like I'm shit?"
"It's called 'you're in my space'. It's called you say watching me trying to send myself -- "
"You said you'd see a professional!"
"I lied!"
"Why! Why, though, Tony, why -- "
"It's none of your fucking business." Tony snarls. "I don't have to explain anything to you. I don't have to -- "
Steve grabs his wrist. "Tell me." He growls "Tell me. You don't want a contract, you won't see a proper dom. You, you continue to let this happen to yourself, why -- "
"Let go of my wrist." Tony says, sucking in a breath. "Steve. Steve, let go -- "
Steve steps back. "I'm sorry." He says evenly. "I didn't realise."
Tony rubs the skin around the joint but Steve doesn't think it'll bruise. He feels guilt, and hates that he's allowed Tony the chance to avoid his questions.
"All I'm saying." Steve says "Is that I've spent the past six months taking you under, okay? I have seen you at your most -- I've seen you so deep you don't remember your own name, Tony. And all I'm asking is -- not that you enter a contract -- just that you explain why you don't want to. It's all I want. And if you can trust me to take you down, you can trust me with that, too."
Tony stares at him. "That's not how this works." He says.
"I worry about you."
"Then just take me under. We don't need a contract, and you don't need to know -- "
"I like you, Tony. Can I say it any clearer? It hurts. To take you under, knowing you don't -- reciprocate."
"I didn't say that."
"I'm a traditional guy. And I've reached the end of -- I would like a contract, is all I'm saying. It would feel a lot better. If I had a list of things you liked, disliked, if we had set boundaries, a time frame. And then we could renew. It would be good for you, too. We could set it at once a week, Tony. Could you imagine going down once a week?"
"No contract."
"Tony -- "
"This is not a transaction."
"Then what is it!" Steve snaps "What is this, Tony. You insist it's not a transaction and yet it seems a lot like your using me as your own brand of medication. Is it unreasonable for me to want answers? Or something permanent? I'm not forcing you, Tony, I'm not. I wouldn't do that. But I'm letting you know, in plain writing, that if you don't want an official record of what we're doing then I'm not sticking around. I'm not wasting my time."
"Fine." Tony mutters, turning around. "Fine. There. Settled. No more transactions. You go screw whoever you want."
"Fine." Steve spits.
"Fine." Tony replies, not even looking at him. "Have fun."
If Steve thought he'd been angry before he's fuming now. Enough that he doesn't even want to beat something, he just wants to sit and ruminate and let the anger eat him up.
If Tony wants to suffer, fine. As if Steve's asking him to sign his life away. All Steve wants to know are his boundaries, he doesn't want to take it too far, he wants it all in writing the way it should be. If Tony hates it, they don't have to renew. If he enjoys it? Well.
It's painful, just being in the same space as him, knowing that he doesn't feel the same way. And it's painful, knowing that he never viewed Steve as anything more than a --
But Tony has his own problems. He clearly doesn't want Steve's help working through them. There's nothing he can do.
"Good morning." Steve says, civil, as Tony makes his way to the coffee counter. "Sleep well?"
He doesn't reply.
"Supposed to be a storm coming in." Steve tries again, in case Tony didn't hear. "Snow due later."
Tony says nothing. Silent treatment, Steve decides.
He sighs. "Fine." He says. "Great, Tony. Real mature."
Tony quickly makes his coffee and leaves. It doesn't occur to Steve that if he wanted, he could have made coffee on any other floor than this one.
"So," Clint says that evening as the snow falls. "You and Tony."
"Me and Tony," Steve says, not looking up from his tablet "are not talking."
"Well that makes for a cohesive group dynamic. Good going, Cap."
"I actually don't think this is my fault."
"How sure are you?"
"About a 9 out of 10."
Clint winces. "Ouch."
"Has Tony mentioned anything to you?" Steve asks, casual. "I mean. Not that I care. Just that -- "
"No."
"Oh."
"Yeah. I haven't seen him around so much."
"He was here this morning."
"Here?" Clint says, surprised. "Why? He has six other floors and sixteen other coffee makers to choose from."
"I figured he liked the view."
"What, the same stretch of New York skyline he can see from his window? Yeah right."
"What are you suggesting."
Clint sighs. "I'm suggesting you just go talk it out, okay? C'mon. You're both grown men."
"Tony's made his view quite clear."
"Has he? Steve, sounds like all you're doing it shouting at each other. That doesn't sound like he's made his view clear at all."
"He doesn't want a contract."
"Have you asked him why?"
"Yes! And he refuses to tell me."
Clint pauses. "Maybe you were too heavy-handed about it." He says evasively.
"What's that supposed to mean."
"It's means you should go talk to him. Patiently. If he doesn't give you the answer you want, you can't just snap."
Steve sighs. He looks at Clint, and then at the falling snow.
They argue again. Steve is patient this time, he really is. And when he says 'argue', what he means is that he stood there and let Tony berate him for twenty minutes before he finally turned at walked out the door.
Steve doesn't know what's wrong with him, but he doesn't know how to find out, either. There's no simple answer to the Tony Problem.
A few days later, the whole team is seated in the breakfast lounge. They had been looking over the plans for the automated missiles that had been let loose a few days earlier, something that they needed Tony for. He was late, by a good fifty minutes.
"What time is this, Stark?" Clint grunts into his coffee. "We've been waiting."
"I was busy." He mutters. "Okay? I'm sorry."
"You should have sent along a message." Natasha says, yawning. "I need the sleep, Tony."
"I said I'm sorry." He mumbles, pouring himself coffee. "I slept in."
The team groans collectively. "Is that what we call busy now?" Clint groans. "Oh my God, that's it, let's just all go back to bed."
Tony stares at them, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. "I got up." He says. "I -- don't go. I just got here."
Steve carefully avoid his gaze. "Just sit." He says brusquely, passing him the papers. "You're the expert. What's your opinion?"
Tony frowns, picking up a pencil. His eyes are red rimmed, dark bruises forming underneath them, his hair greasy and his sweater dirty.
He shrugs, tugs the ends of his sweater of his hands and makes himself small. "I don't know." He mumbles.
Natasha makes an exasperated noise. "For fuck's sake," she says "I'm leaving. I've already missed my morning workout, this can wait. Tell me if you find anything important."
"Wait." Tony croaks. "Don't go."
"Hurry up." Natasha says. "Come on, Anton."
"Focus on the paper, Tony." Clint says, clapping him on the back. "You had a bad night?"
Tony blinks at him, bleary eyed. "I couldn't sleep."
"Gee." Clint says, staring at Steve intently. "I wonder why."
Steve swallows his guilt. Tony has made it clear that he doesn't want to continue the relationship, how is it his fault if he loses sleep over it?
"I," Tony clears his throat. "I'm sorry. I can't do this. It's too -- why is the writing so small?"
"We wanted it to fit on one page?" Clint says, as if that makes sense.
Tony's eyelids flutter closed. He forces them open. "I don't know." He mumbles again. "I don't know what these are."
"Well read them." Steve says, pushing another paper under his nose. "What do you think?"
"I -- " Tony looks up, but his eyes stare at a point next to Steve's head "I'm really sorry. I'm too exhausted. I can -- let me take them. I'll sleep and then I swear I'll have them fixed up by tonight."
"We need them now." Clint says, wincing. "By lunch. I'm running them down to R&D to get them processed, we can't tell them to delay."
"I'm sorry." Tony mumbles, looking down.
Steve, unfortunately, knows the tone. "Tony," he says tiredly "how far under are you?"
Tony looks at his curled fists. "I couldn't sleep." He whispers. "I used the tape."
"I told you." Steve snaps "I told you, hire a professional --
"I thought it was a gift." He mumbles.
Steve blinks. "What?"
Tony doesn't look up. "The collar." he says, curling the material of his sweater over his fingers. "I thought -- you know. Doms give subs collars. When. When they've done good. So I thought. I'm sorry."
"You thought -- "
"It's not a gift." Tony continues, swallowing. "It's, you wanted a contract. With me. You -- people don't give me collars unless they want contracts. I should have known. It's my fault. I just -- I thought this was... different, for some reason. I thought you gave me, you gave it to me, just because you knew I, I was -- I mean, I really was -- that I was, was, you know. Really good for you." Tony winces on the word. "I'm sorry." He says again, making to stand. "It was a misunderstanding."
"Sit down."
Tony's knees crack so hard on the floor Steve's surprised the tile doesn't break.
"I meant the chair."
Clint settles a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Stand up." He murmurs. "Come on, Tony."
Tony blinks. "Shit." He blurts. "Fuck, I did it again."
"Okay," Natasha says simply "fine. We're done here. Tony, you come with me, I'll see if I can get you some sleep. Clint, you clear up."
"Wait." Steve says "The collar -- "
"Not now, Steve." Natasha says, gently. "Give him some space. Come on, Anton." She tugs lightly on Tony's sweater, helps him stumble to his feet.
"I thought the collar was a gift," he mutters, trying to explain "I swear. I didn't know it was," he rubs the back of his hand over his brow "I promise I didn't know he wanted a contract."
"It's okay, Tony. Don't worry about that. You come with me."
Clint sighs as they retreat. "Well isn't this a damn mess."
Steve is still staring at the point where Tony knelt. "I don't understand what he wants." He says, distantly.
"He was trying to apologise, you ass." Clint says, crossing his arms. "He thinks you're angry, man."
"I am."
"Do you know what it's like? To have a dom angry at you?"
"Do you?"
"I've switched, before. That is, that's a thing I can do."
Steve raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah. So I can tell you that if a sub comes in here, and his first reaction is to try and explain what he thinks he's done wrong, he's scared. No wonder he couldn't do any of the fucking specs, why would he? What if he gets it wrong? Then what would you do?"
"Nothing."
"He doesn't know that. He's under. Tony, how he normally is, and Tony when he is under, they are two very different people."
"You think I don't know that?" Steve snaps. "You think I haven't spent the past -- "
Clint narrows his eyes. "The past what?"
Steve straightens. "It was more than once." He says. "I, I've taken Tony under more than once. We -- yeah."
Clint stares. "I had no fucking idea."
"Well now you do."
"Does -- does anyone else know?"
"I assume Natasha does. Bruce doesn't. God knows about Thor, I haven't seen him in weeks, but he can be perceptive when he wants to be."
"That's dangerous. Having a relationship with a teammate. It's rocky ground."
"That's what Tony said, too."
Clint pauses. "Do you really like him?"
"I think we could have a future."
Clint nods, examines the specs on the table. "Then it must suck."
"Right."
Clint looks up. "Give him some time. He's just as confused as you are. Clearly there's been a big misunderstanding somewhere."
"He thought the collar was a gift."
"Wasn't it?"
"Well, yeah. But it was a pre-cursor to me asking for a contract."
"He didn't know." Clint murmurs, and then he winces. "That's really got to suck for him, Steve. Imagine if that was you? You think someone's given you this as a gift, that they like you on your own terms, and -- he must have been proud of it, right? He'd wear it, whenever you two met?"
"Yeah."
"Well there you go. Steve, I think he does like you, a lot. But he doesn't want a contract. He won't do one. How many times do you think he's gonna have to explicitly say it before it registers with you?"
"I know that." Steve says "I'm intensely aware of that. But he still wants me to take him down, Clint. I can't do that knowing that he won't -- that it's not, not because he loves me, just because he doesn't have anyone else."
"That's your mistake." Clint says quietly. "You're assuming that because he doesn't want a contract, he doesn't want you."
Steve blinks. "The two go hand in hand."
"Not necessarily. Not if you're, for whatever reason, wary of contracts. See it from his perspective, Steve, because he's been taken for a wild ride. Imagine he likes you, really likes you, and he's just, he's thrilled that you've given him this collar because he thinks it means you think he's perfect, he's the best, the, I don't know, just good. And he's always been so wary of contracts -- for whatever reason -- so he's just happy he's got something where he's getting the attention he needs. And then, man, you say that you want a contract, and he realises the collar was only there because you want to start the process and suddenly he's terrified because he's about to lose the relationship he thought -- "
"I get it." Steve says shortly. "Fine. I get it. I've been an ass."
"No," Clint counters "you haven't. You've tried to be patient, and it's not like Tony's forthcoming with this information. But I bet if you go up there now -- and you just explain that you understand -- he'll be putty in your hands. Everything back to normal. And then the poor guy'll be able to sleep again."
"I don't want to hurt him." Steve murmurs. "I feel like I've hurt him."
"Yeah duh. Can't take that back now. But you can fix it. Or at least try to."
Tony's still not sleeping when Steve knocks on the door. He's sitting up in bed, blind drawn and room dark, looking at a copy of the specs.
"Knock knock," Steve says, poking his head round the door. "You awake?"
Tony looks up at him, wary. "I'll have them done by tonight." He mutters, looking away. "Don't worry."
"You're supposed to be sleeping." Steve says, gently closing the door behind him.
"Can't. It's fine, Steve. You can go."
"No," Steve says softly. "I can't. I -- I want to apologise."
"You already did." Tony says, not looking up.
"I want to apologise again."
"It's fine."
"Tony," Steve says, perching at the end of the bed "I want you to take back the collar."
He holds it out, places it in front of Tony's knees.
Tony blinks.
"I can't." He says quietly. "I can't have a contract."
"I don't want one." Steve says. "If you don't want one, then we don't need one. I... I like you more than that, Tony. I would rather have you than nothing at all."
Tony stares at him, fingers reaching for the leather. "Are you sure?" He asks "Are you -- " his eyes narrow "are you just saying that?"
"No." Steve says simply. "I think we're right for each other. I think we could have a relationship. A real one. And if you don't want a contract, then I understand. I mean, I don't. But I won't push it, okay? Maybe one day you'll be able to tell me why."
Tony rubs his brow with the back of his hand. He plays the leather over his fingers.
Then he looks up. "Could you put it on me?" He mumbles.
Steve smiles, feels the relief settle into his bones. He carefully clasps the collar around Tony's neck, smoothes his hair back from his head. "It suits you." He says.
Tony's cheeks flush and he looks away. "Thank you." He murmurs.
"I'm sorry I -- " Steve sighs "I don't know. That I shouted. That I ignored you. That I just fucked us over, okay? But I'm done now, I get it. Clint is surprisingly empathetic when he wants to be."
"Yeah," Tony says "uh. That might be because I told him."
"What?"
"We talked, a few days ago. I told him everything."
Steve blinks. "You mean he lied to me?"
"I told him not to tell you."
"Christ," Steve groans "God, this is so playground at recess.
"Sorry." Tony says. "I shouldn't have -- "
"I was joking."
"Oh."
Steve tucks flyaway hair behind his ear. "Do you need help sleeping?" He asks, quietly.
Tony stares. And then nods. "Yes." He croaks.
Steve shifts, settles down at the head of the bed. "Can you not sleep without -- you know."
"No." Tony says. "I can. I just haven't been under properly in awhile."
"It's almost like tapes aren't a good substitute for human contact." Steve says wryly. "Figures."
"Yeah it's almost like you were the person who refused to help me sleep." Tony says. "Figures."
"Sorry." Steve says again. "Seriously. I'm really -- I was shitty."
Tony settles down in his arms, allows his hair to be stroked. "You wanna know why I was so upset?"
"Why?"
"Because I thought we were already dating. How stupid was that?"
Steve blinks. "You -- what?"
"I thought we were dating. You and I. I thought, you know, you gave me a collar. And you took my down regularly. And, you kept asking me to lunch, and to dinner. I thought. Yeah."
"I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay." Tony mutters.
"No, it's not. Fuck, Tony, I wouldn't lead you on without -- without telling you were we dating."
"Yeah well I know that now."
"I mean it. This whole thing's been a fucking disaster from start to finish."
"I don't like contracts." Tony murmurs.
"Why?"
"No escape."
"From?"
Tony eyes flick up. "You know what."
Steve's hand stills. "Has anyone ever -- taken advantage of you? Within a contract?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"You remember I said -- I said that sometimes, I will, I'll sub for people, if it means, you know. Getting them on my side."
"Right."
"Well," Tony says, softly. "I, uh. When I was younger, I signed a contract with someone. I don't want you to know who, but it was on their terms. And Obie pushed me to take it, and everyone pushed me to take it. And honestly, she had -- she had been lovely, before. And she gave me a collar, and I'd never had -- look, I was so young, I thought, I just thought it was so special. So she drew up the contract, and it was eight weeks at her place, and it was my first, serious, contract, and I just -- "
"What happened?" Steve says, gently pushing.
"Oh, she milked me for all my secrets. Everything I could offer on Stark Industries. It was, it was an unmitigated disaster. She would send me really, really under, under enough I barely knew what was happening, and then -- I don't expect you to understand, but when you're that deep, all you want to do is please. You could ask me anything and I'd just be," Tony says the next words with such venom it shocks Steve "I'd be so desperate to just make you happy, to be good, that I'd do anything."
"I wouldn't -- "
"Sure. But she did. And I was aware of what was happening. I tried to get out. But the contract stipulated that there was no leaving outside of illness or, you know, like a family death or something. And once she was done with me," Tony takes a huge breath, exhales "there was still some time left to go. So she brought in some other business partners, and they took turns, too."
"Tony -- "
"It wasn't awful. I've had worse. But no contracts. I don't do, I don't do that, anymore."
"Why did no one do anything, Tony, that's not -- you know that's not legal -- "
Tony takes a sharp breath, hangs his head. "I was ashamed." He says, voice cracking. "I was so, so fucking ashamed."
"You had nothing -- "
"I sold out my company like it was nothing, like I was a performing dog, and then these other men came in and I just took whatever they dished out. For months, afterward, I'd have to see her at these parties, and her company was coming out with Stark products, designs I'd told her about, and Obie knew, I think, but he never said anything. And I couldn't -- I just couldn't -- "
"Where is she now?"
"Not important." Tony says, breathing in deep again. "I don't want to know. But contracts, they scare me. Just the thought of them, the idea that -- that you give yourself over -- "
"I wish you had said." Steve says quietly. "I wish -- I mean, I wish I had known."
"And then," Tony says "fuck, you have no idea. You have no idea what it's like to be under. You take everything someone says as times ten. So I freaked out, okay? That night, when you found me -- with the tape. You grabbed my wrist, and you were angry. I thought -- I was scared. You scared me."
Steve flushes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. That was an accident, I never meant -- "
"So when you came to find me again, I needed to get you away. That's all. That's all it was. Defence mode."
"We're both fucking idiots, aren't we?" Steve says, pressing kisses to Tony's head. "I've had enough of that, Tony. Be my sub. No contracts, nothing. Just us. And if it doesn't work out, well then, at least we tried. No harm, no foul."
"Be your sub." Tony says. "Your... sub. With, with everything, right? Kneeling, and dates -- real dates -- and breakfast in bed. You would fuck me."
"I would fuck you."
Tony takes a shaky breath. "I," he says, before his voice cracks. "I would like that."
"So just that we're clear," Steve says "we are together, now."
"Right."
"Should I have Jarvis record it to avoid confusion?"
"Hilarious, Steve."
"But seriously."
"Seriously," Tony says, and he turns his head, looks up at Steve. "Seriously, I..."
He kisses him. Soft, slow.
Tony makes a gentle noise at the back of his throat, arches his back, pressing up. He breaks away, gasping. "Steve," he says, voice a soft, half whine.
"You're beautiful." Steve murmurs, stroking his brow. "You're so fucking perfect, Tony."
"And I'm yours?"
"Mine." Steve says "All mine."
"Thank you." Tony says, voice husky, rough. "For having me."
Steve takes his hand, presses a kiss to the knuckles. "It's my pleasure."