Chapter Text
New York, 2012
“It’s down to you and me, Cap. You got a suit?”
When Steve had found out that the Avengers were invited to a gala, he’d looked forward to having the entire team in one place again post-New York. He’s worked with one, maybe two of them at a time if he was lucky since, Tony’s efforts to gather them all in the Tower defeated by unending missions and brutal schedules.
Still, the bedrooms are kept on standby, the pantries fully stocked. That had surprised Steve even more than the initial invitation for them all to stay in the Tower to begin with. At first, he’d been sure the offer had been the kind of impulsive grand gesture Tony was famous for—that it would fizzle out once Tony moved on to his next project. So he'd been taken by surprise when his next SHIELD mission in New York ran longer and harder than any of them had planned, and the idea of a flight back to D.C. felt like a mission in its own right.
Tony had looked just as surprised as Steve felt when he'd arrived at the Tower door with a duffle bag and an inquiry if there was a spare bed he could crash in.
Steve… didn’t get Tony. If watching him sacrifice his own life by flying a nuke into a wormhole hadn’t challenged his preconceived notions of Tony being no better than the Gilmore Hodges of the world, seeing the grief and guilt on the man’s face after Coulson’s death had done the job. After New York, he had hoped they could start over after their disastrous first meeting on the helicarrier, only for him to be folded into SHIELD’s ranks and find his days filled with a new war to fight.
He’d pitched reassembling the Avengers to Fury more than once, only to be shut down with words about it not being the right time. Thor was off-world, Bruce was only willing to bring out the Other Guy in the direst of circumstances, and Clint was still recovering from Loki's control. Which left Steve paired up with Natasha, and Tony doing what he did best—running his own missions and taking orders from no one.
Then he’d received this invitation. A gala, where all six of them could be in the same place at the same time. SHIELD’s STRIKE team was efficient and competent, but it didn't live up to the camaraderie Steve had had with the Commandos. Steve trusted Rumlow and his team to have his back well enough, but he didn’t feel the same electricity he had when the six Avengers had taken on Loki’s army. Even though this is a party, not a fight, he's been looking forward to seeing them all again.
And then, on the day of the gala, he’d learned that Thor was on Asgard, Natasha was on a mission, and Bruce and Clint rivaled each other for who hated appearing at public and black-tie events more. Which left just one companion.
“Hey, Rogers.” Tony snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “You got a suit or not?”
Despite it being months since Steve had been rescued from the ice, his belongings could still fit into a single duffle bag. He bats Tony’s hand away. “Guessing the Stars and Stripes don’t count?”
“Absolutely not. And I hope you know we’re burning that design and finding something from this century that’s actually going to protect those assets instead of showing them off for the cameras.”
“The suit's fine, Tony.”
Tony raises an eyebrow over the dregs of the coffee pot. The design of the Tower meant they occasionally bumped into each other in the kitchen, but otherwise Tony mostly stayed down in his workshop whenever Steve was at the Tower. At first, Steve had assured himself that Tony was just busy, getting lost in his endless projects, only to realize the avoidant behavior only came out when he visited. Tony would chat endlessly with anyone on the team, except Steve.
“Sure. When you came in here last month riddled with bullet holes, that’s every man’s definition of fine. Hey, JARVIS,” Tony calls out. “Direct Cap to that tailor Pepper likes, would you? He’ll whip you up something in no time if you tell him it’s for me.”
A Pepper Potts-approved tailor is certainly out of Steve's budget. “I’ll find something.”
“No, you won’t,” Tony replies bluntly. “Not for this crowd. Just tell Jacobson to send the bill to the usual place.” He’s already halfway out of the door. “And bring a date, Rogers.”
A date. Right. So he’d have someone to talk to that wasn’t Tony, Steve assumes. That thought stings more than he wants to admit, but at least he knows where they stand. They can be teammates when called for, and avoid each other in their off-hours. If that's what Tony wants, Steve’s not going to waste his energy pushing for anything else.
He forgoes the date. The idea of any woman on his arm that isn’t Peggy still makes his stomach twist, not to mention that he doesn’t want to give anyone at SHIELD the wrong idea by extending an invitation. When he’d been touring for Brandt, there had been more than one occasion where a member of the audience had snuck backstage to ambush him. Plenty of times after the tour, too. Private Lorraine had hardly been an isolated incident.
At least after the tour, he’d had Bucky to step in. Once Bucky had caught on that Steve was feeling genuine discomfort and not just shyness, he'd made sure to always be around when Steve attended functions or when the Commandos hit up a bar to blow off steam in between missions.
Thinking about Bucky gives him the same sickly feelings that thoughts of Peggy stir up, so Steve pushes them aside. He’d been hoping that, eventually, he’d find someone to have his back the same way Bucky had in this brave new world. He’d found a lot of punching bags instead.
Not sure what else to do, Steve gives in enough to have the suit made. Even with Tony’s name getting him the fastest of rush jobs, the last stitch is barely completed by the time Steve has to all but sprint out the door to get to the gala on time.
It’s not his first time preening for the public, and he quickly finds that he hates it just as much as when he’d been selling war bonds. Still, he finds his smile and shakes sweaty hands, nodding and laughing at what he hopes are the right places, until he finds a moment to excuse himself. He hangs out in the bathroom as long as he can before he thinks his absence might be missed, only to feel a hand brush his shoulder, and then there’s a face full of powder and lipstick right in his. “Hello.”
The greeting is sweet in a way Steve has heard a dozen times before. No Bucky to come to his rescue this time. Even so, he tries for the gentlemanly way out. “I think you’ve got the wrong bathroom, ma’am.”
“Actually, I’m right where I want to be.”
The woman takes a step closer, and suddenly he’s faced with the memory of Private Lorraine backing him up against a wall, with him having no idea how to ask her to stop. “Who made your suit, honey?” Hungry eyes rake over him. “Fits you like a glove.”
“Thank you,” Steve tries, still trying to keep things polite. The last thing he needs is an Avengers-related scandal at a charity event. He attempts to move out of her reach, but there’s nowhere to go without pushing the woman out of the way. “Excuse me.”
He tries to sidestep again, but she just moves with him. “Oh, everyone back there is so boring. I hate these things, don’t you?"
"It’s for charity.” Again, Steve tries to leave. Again, she blocks his path.
“Well, I’ve already made my donation.” The woman steps closer, and Steve fights not to wrinkle his nose at the overdose of perfume. “So I would say I’m done here for the night. How about we go and talk somewhere, just the two of us?”
“I don’t think—” Steve starts, but before he’s even figured out what to say, she’s closed the last of the gap between them and shoved her lips against his.
“Hey!”
The shout makes the woman spring away, furious, until she sees just who has burst through the bathroom door. “Mr. Stark,” she stammers and Steve’s brain comes back online enough to take in the Stark Industries branding on her name tag. She hastily swipes at her now-smudged lipstick, trying for a smile as she thrusts out her hand. “Janice Lincoln from R&D. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you for months, I have new plans for—”
“Didn’t care before, definitely don’t care now.”
Steve feels an arm slip through his, breaking through enough of the shocked haze that he finds his feet again.
“See HR in the morning," Tony continues. "Or don’t. You’re fired either way.”
Tony tugs Steve down the corridor, leaving the spluttering woman behind and not slowing until they’re outside. Steve blinks as the cool air hits his face, making breathing a little easier. His lungs have seized up like he’s having an asthma attack, Tony’s arm the only thing that feels solid.
“Rogers. Steve. She’s gone, take a breath.”
“I... I can't—”
“Steve. You're alright. Breathe.”
It takes a few tries, but eventually the vice around his lungs loosens, the last of the shock wearing off enough to realize that Tony is radiating anger. “Sorry,” Steve manages, the words still breathless. “Didn’t mean to pull you away from the party.”
Tony blinks at him, then seems to realize that his fingernails are still digging into Steve’s arm. He hastily lets go. “I told you to bring a date, Rogers.”
“I thought you…” Steve trails off, taking in Tony’s worried expression, and decides to skirt around the truth. “I thought you were joking."
Tony opens his mouth before seeming to catch himself, and changes tracks. “Well, I am known for a killer sense of humor, I guess.” He’s still staring at Steve, frowning, before he whips his pocket square out and shoves it into Steve’s hands. “Clean up. Let’s not get the suits talking.”
The moment it's pointed out to him, the lipstick still clinging to his mouth feels tacky and heavy. Steve scrubs at it, not feeling an ounce cleaner even as the fabric is stained dark red.
“Alright, think you got it all.”
Steve reluctantly stops, still feeling like the woman is smeared all over his face. His heart hasn’t slowed, even though the fresh air is helping. “Thanks. For stepping in.”
Tony’s still watching him, looking as unsure as Steve feels. “You good?” he says finally. “I’ve had a few of those myself. Panic attacks. Not the most fun of recreational activities.”
Steve swallows past an unexpected lump in his throat. No, is the simple answer to that question. He isn’t good. He hasn’t been good since he woke up in the wrong century. Since he had said goodbye to his chance of a life with Peggy. Since he’d watched Bucky fall to his death on a mission Steve had led. “I’m good,” he answers.
Tony doesn’t look as though he believes that for a second, but even so it’s clear he’s relieved by Steve’s answer. “Alright. Don’t go off on your own again.”
“I’m fine—”
“No, you’re a very pretty fish in an ocean of sharks in overpriced shoes.” Tony opens up the door to the building again, gesturing him through. “So until you find a real date to ward them off, you’re stuck with me.”
“You don't have to, if you’d rather…”
“If I’d rather what?” Tony’s expression turns guarded. “Look, I know I’m not your first choice of company, but at least I can promise I'm not going to kiss you, no matter how much your super-suit shows off your—”
“Tony.”
“Right. Not the right time to make those kinds of jokes.” Tony glances inside, unsure. “You want to go back to the Tower? I’ll make the excuses.”
“No.” Steve straightens up, rallying himself. “I got this.”
“Uh-huh.” Tony still looks unsure, but holds out his arm anyway. “Just… stay in my sights this time. I mean it.”
To Steve’s surprise and gratitude, Tony sticks by his side until he’s called away to give his speech. “I’ll be fine,” Steve insists as Tony hesitates. “You can go, Tony.”
Tony isn’t having it, eyes roaming the room until they fix on a figure seated at a table near the stage. His expression brightens. “Come on, I’ve been meaning to introduce you two anyway.” Tony leads Steve over to the table, making a hasty introduction. “Captain, this is Colonel Rhodes. I already know you’re going to be all formal and call him Colonel, but for the record it’s usually—”
“Rhodey,” the man interrupts, holding out his hand. The shake is firm, solid and welcoming rather than a display of strength. “And you’re late for your speech.”
“Can’t be late for my own speech,” Tony shoots back. “What are they going to do, start without me? Not sure how they’re going to start a speech without the speech-giver, that logic really doesn't pan out. Are you sure MIT admitted you with that level of cognitive ability?"
Rhodey responds by giving him a good-natured shove toward the stage. “The sooner you speak, the sooner we can get to a real bar.”
“You’ve got me there.” Tony claps Steve on the shoulder, making his exit. “You,” he tells Rhodey, “do not let this one out of your sight.”
“Sorry,” Steve says the moment Tony is out of earshot, even though he’s relieved that Tony hasn’t just abandoned him. He can still smell the perfume lingering on his suit jacket. “You don’t have to—”
Rhodey is already waving him off. “I’ve been attending these things with Tony for two decades. I know what they can get like.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “And I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Despite Rhodey’s promise of a so-called real bar, Tony is occupied long after the speech’s conclusion, shaking hands and making his rounds. Rhodey and Steve stay where they are, even though Steve doesn’t miss that Rhodey keeps a careful eye on where Tony is at all times. It isn’t unlike how Bucky had used to look at him when he’d been sure Steve was about to challenge the latest asshole who was causing trouble.
It turns out Rhodey is easy to talk to—one of the few people Steve has met in this century who doesn’t press for stories from the war or make a hundred assumptions about how much Steve must be struggling with this decade’s technology and fast-paced lifestyle. He matches Tony for honesty and straightforwardness without the layers of defensiveness and hostility. Soon an hour has passed of easy chatting, and Steve is feeling something close to relaxed for the first time since entering the benefit.
Rhodey waves away yet another person who tries to interrupt them, somehow without being rude or dismissive about it. “Are you finding your way okay in the Tower?”
Steve tenses, wondering if they’re headed for the dreaded How are you coping with all the technology conversation after all. “Fine,” he replies, pulling out a rote answer. “Internet’s great. Been reading that a lot, trying to catch up.”
“Sure,” Rhodey answers easily. “But I meant more with the Tower occupants.”
There’s a question beneath that one, but Steve decides to answer in good faith. “Good. When they’re around.”
“Which is not very often?”
“Dr. Banner’s there quite a lot. Busy in the labs mostly.”
“But no one else.”
“Well. Tony’s there.”
The glint in Rhodey’s eyes tells Steve they’ve landed where Rhodey had been steering them. “And how’s that going?”
Steve aims for somewhere neutral. “He’s also busy.”
“And you’re not?”
“Well, the boys in my barbershop quartet are all dead, so no. I guess not. Just what Fury can find for me to do.”
“And you don’t like working for SHIELD?”
“Don’t like isn’t how I’d put it.” Steve breaks off as a waiter tops up their drinks, smiling politely until he’s left.
“So what would you rather be doing?” Rhodey asks.
Steve glances around, making sure they are well out of earshot of anyone else. “I thought I’d be leading a team,” he admits. “When Tony invited us all to stay in the Tower, I thought that we’d work together. Beyond word-threatening disasters, I suppose.”
“You’re not the only one who thought that.” Rhodey’s watching Tony again, who’s throwing up a peace sign as the waiter who just poured them drinks leans in for a selfie. “So why don’t you assemble the team again?”
Steve reaches for his drink, more for something to do with his hands than actually enjoying the taste. For the millionth time, he wishes that the alcohol would actually do its job and take the edge off events like this. “If I did, would you join? We’d be lucky to have you.”
Rhodey laughs, the sound dry. “I’m flattered, but no thanks. I’ve got enough on my plate without getting involved in that powder keg waiting to explode.”
“Thanks, that really makes me feel better about wanting to get the team back together.”
“A group of enhanced individuals who are powerful enough to take down an alien army?” Rhodey’s expression turns serious. “As someone who went through the entire court process of the army trying to seize the Iron Man suits… let's just say there are people who are not going to be happy with only SHIELD oversight one day.”
“So you think I should avoid the Avengers altogether?”
“I think you should make the right allies, and make them early.”
“You mean Tony.” Steve’s lips tingle, unable to shake the aftertaste of expensive lipstick. “I want us to be on the same side. But every move I make feels like the wrong one. We can’t be allies if he doesn’t trust me.”
Rhodey considers him. “You want to get Tony on your side? It’s not about getting him to trust you. It’s about showing that you trust him.”
Steve watches as Tony is pulled into yet another group of smiling men in suits, the playfulness the man had shown with the waiter long gone. “I trust him.”
He feels the falseness in the words even as he says them. Steve recalls Tony pulling him away from the woman in the bathroom, of taking out Loki’s agent who had been about to fire on him on the helicarrier, of carrying a nuke into space without a single expectation of making it back home.
“I want to trust him,” Steve amends.
Rhodey finishes his drink. “Well, that’s as good a start as any. I’m not saying it’s going to be a quick win. Tony doesn’t trust easily—just Google Obadiah Stane and you’ll see why—but he’s someone you’re going to want on your side when that powder keg eventually gets lit.”
“I’ll try,” Steve promises, meaning it. He’d misjudged Tony’s intentions tonight, and he’d misjudged them when they’d first met on the helicarrier. They’d both been at fault then, but Steve is the team leader. Or at least, he wants to be. And for that, that team actually needs to exist. “Any suggestions on where to start?"
“Listen to him. Show him you value his ideas and his input. I’m not saying you have to be a yes-man to every idea, in fact he’ll hate you if you try, but at least try to understand where he’s coming from. Understand his intentions, even if you don’t agree with how he wants to execute them.”
“And how does he execute them?”
“With a lot of flair and theatrics. I’m not saying that Tony doesn’t have… a dark side sounds a bit dramatic. Let’s say that he has his blind spots, same as everybody else. He can be a runaway train when he’s on a mission. Maybe you two have more in common than you think.” Rhodey pushes himself to his feet, offering Steve a hand up. “And whatever you do, don’t lie to him. He will find out, and he won’t forgive you.”
“Listen, show that I trust his input, don’t lie to him.” Steve accepts the hand. “Thanks, Rhodey. If you ever change your mind about being on the team, we could use you.”
“Captain America asking me to be on his team.” Rhodey allows himself a grin. “That’s a moment, thank you for that. So, you interested in coming to that real bar?”
The rest of the night with Rhodey and Tony actually turns out to be fun, with Steve offering Tony a quiet thank you for intervening earlier. Tony brushes it off before Steve has barely gotten the words out, but Steve catches the brief surprised but pleased look before he does so.
Later that week, Steve goes looking for Tony in his labs. He’d been reluctant to interrupt his work, only to realize that Tony is nearly always working when he wasn’t spending time with Rhodey or Pepper, and he wants to capitalize on the camaraderie from the gala while it's still fresh.
He approaches the pounding music coming from the workshop, sketchbook clasped nervously in hand. He nudges the door open, taking in the scene of Tony crouched on the floor, peering over numerous blueprints. He looks surprised when Steve walks in, although he hastily tries to hide it. “To what do I owe the interruption, Cap?”
Steve approaches with his sketchbook held out, deciding Tony probably isn’t the kind of man who likes to waste time on pleasantries. Tony eyes it, unimpressed. “Did you draw me something for the fridge? That’s cute, it was looking a bit bare.”
Reminding himself that this is supposed to be a peace offering, Steve bites back his retort. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About my suit.”
Tony pauses in his work. “The walking blue and red abomination with the showgirl boots?” He pushes himself to his feet in order to reluctantly take Steve’s notebook, flicking through the designs. “Huh. Not bad, Rogers. Guess that year at art school wasn’t entirely a waste.”
“You know I went to art school?” Steve follows Tony over to one of his work benches, Tony pulling over what looks like a desk lamp to better see the designs.
Tony shrugs, non-committal. “My dad never shut up about you, do you know that?” He spreads the designs wide, scattering the pages. “Let’s take a look at these in three dimensions, shall we J?”
“Right away, sir.”
There’s a whir and a flash of blue light, and then Steve's looking at a holographic version of his new design. “That’s impressive.”
Tony waves the compliment off. “To you, maybe.” He pauses, actually meeting Steve’s eyes for the first time. “What, you want a second opinion before you take these off to SHIELD?”
Steve forces his tone to remain casual as he replies, “Actually, I was hoping you would help me build it. If it’s not too much trouble.”
Tony’s expression morphs from surprise to wariness to something Steve could have sworn is pleased. “I’ve had a few ideas cooking. A stealth option, for one. And making this thing actually bulletproof, for another. Quick-drying, insulating, shove a couple of trackers in there, maybe…” Tony’s already waving Steve out of the lab. “Come back in a couple of days, I’ll have some options for you to try out. We can have a fashion show.”
“Whatever you want, Tony. I trust you.”
Tony's brow furrows, wary. "Do you now?”
“If we're going to be on the same team, then yes.”
Tony absorbs that, then nods. “Sounds logical, I guess.” He looks as though he's about to say something else, before he cuts himself off. “Two days. Fashion show. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
Steve retires to his room with a weight lifted from his chest. He sinks down into his too-soft mattress, remembering that Tony had bought everything in this room, for him. So he could have somewhere that felt like home. So he could be around people that could one day feel like family.
For the first time, Steve wonders if Tony is aching for that as much as he is. Well, if that’s true, making amends with Tony is as good a place to start as any for getting the team together.
“Show him I trust him. Don't lie to him,” Steve states, lying back in the too-soft bed. Surely, with time, he’d get used to the discomfort. “Sure. I can do that.”