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For someone who once built a suit in a cave with a box of scraps, Tony’s taking an awfully long time just staring at the inside of the car’s engine compartment.
Steve is starting to worry. Just a little.
There are worse places to be stranded than upstate New York, he supposes, but the snow flurry that had seemed so harmless an hour ago is turning worse by the second, and if there’s one thing Steve doesn’t like, it’s the cold. He wraps one arm around himself, but it’s hardly helping. The whipping wind is bringing tears to his eyes.
Next to him, Tony looks entirely unbothered by the cold, elbow-deep in the car’s engine now.
Steve huffs out a small laugh.
At least someone is enjoying themselves.
Steve can’t say he’s happy standing around in the freezing cold for the foreseeable future, especially considering it’s his fault for insisting on taking the car instead of the helicopter, but he’s not complaining, if it means he gets to have Tony to himself for another hour or two.
It’s been too long since they hung out, just the two of them, and he’s missed Tony’s easy company. He loves their friend group, loves the team meetings that turn into dinners and movie nights, the overflowing group chats and camping trips, but—
When it’s just him and Tony, it’s different, easy in ways Steve hadn’t imagined was possible for them.
It’s the kind of friendship Steve’s now realizing he’d yearned to have with Tony for years. The kind of relationship they could have had years ago, if they hadn’t both been so adamant on misunderstanding each other. If Steve hadn’t hurt Tony the way he did.
He sets his shoulders, pushing the unwelcome thought away.
What matters is that they’re trying now, and that, somehow, it works.
When Tony invited him to dinner with some of Stark Industries’ shareholders last week, he’d jumped at the opportunity, even if there’s a million things he would rather be doing than sit through a stuffy dinner with people he doesn’t know. But it’s worth it. The awkwardness of it all, the extra hour stuck in traffic, hell, even the standing around in the freezing cold—
It’s all worth it, if it means he gets to be around Tony for just another moment.
Beside him, Tony has stopped digging around the engine's compartment, face set in a deep frown.
Steve grimaces. It’s not looking well for them.
"I can’t fix it," Tony finally says, looking defeated at the admission.
Steve expected it, but it’s still a downer. "So what now?"
Tony purses his lips. "Well, the starter motor—that’s the component that turns the engine over when you start the car—is obviously malfunctioning, and that could have many reasons. It’s either a result of electrical solenoid damage, or the motor itself has broken, or there are other faults in the electrical system. I can find out what it is, but I can’t fix it because I don’t have the tools for it." He reaches into the engine compartment again, tearing out a cable, his frustration evident in the sharpness of the movement. "What I need is a new starter motor."
"Oh."
"Yeah," Tony says, dropping the cable back down.
"Well, where can we get a new starter motor?" Steve asks, looking around.
They’re surrounded by woods, as far as the eye can see. The rapidly approaching dusk is throwing long shadows around them. Steve pushes down a trickle of unease, and turns his phone over.
He has no reception. Of course.
The car’s GPS had shown them to be about an hour outside of Arlington, though, so they’re at least somewhere near other people. Steve dreads the prospect of walking, but it’s his own fault for insisting on taking the car.
Tony sighs, slamming the hood of the car shut. "Too much trouble. I’ll have someone pick us up."
Or that.
Steve nods, stepping away to give him some privacy.
Tony raises his phone to his ear. Of course, his phone works. It must be a satellite phone, or something. "Hi, Pep, it’s me. So, the car broke down, yes, really. Somewhere before Arlington." A beat. "No, this is not an elaborate ruse to evade Ty, who do you take me for?"
Steve stills. Ty? Ty who? The name is distantly familiar, but he can’t quite place it.
Tony flashes a guilty smile at Steve and wanders a little further away.
Steve shouldn’t listen in, he really shouldn’t but— "Ty and I have made our amends a long time ago," Tony says. He hums, a low, drawn out sound, almost sensual. It makes the hair at the back of Steve’s neck stand up. "If anything," Tony continues, "I’m looking forward to seeing him again."
Steve blinks, heart pounding, and forces his gaze away from the smirk on Tony’s face.
It dawns on him, suddenly, who this Ty guy is.
Tiberius Stone, childhood friend and rival to Tony.
And if the papers were to be believed, also his former lover. Steve knows better than to believe any of the tabloid stories written about any of them out there, but—
He remembers, with a start, that one picture he stumbled across a few years ago.
A young Tony, hardly older than twenty, and Tiberius, kissing, maybe, at a bar in the East Village. Steve had clicked out of the browser before he could confirm what it was he was seeing, but it hardly mattered if it was a kiss or just a very close conversation between two friends.
Tony had been sitting on Tiberius’ lap.
Tony wanders back over, a sheepish smile on his face. "Pep will send someone with a car."
Steve nods, banishing thoughts of Tony and Tiberius to a box in the far reaches of his mind. "Great."
"It’ll take a little over an hour, though." Tony flashes his phone, where an app shows a car weaving through traffic in Washington Heights. "Sorry," he says, pocketing his phone. "Looks like we’ll be missing the first course."
Steve huffs out a laugh. "That’s alright." After a moment’s thought, he adds, "I’m just—happy to be spending time with you, so."
Tony blinks at him, eyebrows raising behind his glasses.
Right. They’re friends, but not that kind of friends. Friends that tell each other that kind of stuff.
Steve’s opening his mouth to say something, anything to cover the awkwardness, when Tony nudges him, a wide smile on his face. "Look at you, Steve, getting all soft in your old age."
Steve smiles back with what is hopefully not a grimace, and lets himself be herded back toward the car.
The inside of the car is only marginally warmer than the outside, but at least they’re out of the freezing wind. Tony tries the ignition again. There’s one hopeful moment where the engine sputters for a second, lights blinking on—
And then the car dies again.
"I don’t know what I expected," Tony says. "I mean, I ripped out a cable."
Steve snorts. He maneuvers his phone around until it’s lying half on the dashboard, half in the free air, enough of the flashlight covered to not blind them. With the windshield half way covered in snow and the sky outside his window turning a soft, purple blue, it’s almost cozy in the car.
Steve wraps his arms around himself and sneaks a glance at Tony.
He looks good tonight. He always does, but tonight there’s something different about him. The maroon suit he’s wearing fits him to a T, and he’s—Steve feels weird for noticing, but Tony’s wearing a new scent, something warm and inviting, unlike the sharp, citrusy scent he usually wears. Vanilla maybe, or sandalwood.
Different, but not bad different.
He’s dressed up for Tiberius, Steve realizes with a start, and the realization has sudden, sharp disappointment surge up in him. It all makes sense now, the way Tony’s dressed, his dismayed face when he realized he couldn’t fix the car, the flash of guilt on his face earlier—
"Sorry," Steve says, before he can stop himself.
"Hmm?" Tony looks sideways at him.
Steve shrugs, clearing his throat. "If it weren’t for me, you’d already be at the gala."
If it weren’t for me, you’d already be with Tiberius.
Tony waves him away. "Oh, I didn’t really want to go to begin with. I mean, I have to because Donny is a major investor and I’m better at handling him than Pep, but…" He shrugs. "Not really looking forward to having to schmooze with people I don’t like, you know? That stopped being fun ten years ago."
Steve nods.
Tony pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. His mouth opens, and Steve waits for him to speak, waits for him to mention Tiberius, heart beating erratically—
"Are you hungry?" Tony asks. "I’ve got some snacks in the back for Morgan."
Right. Steve lets out a heavy breath. Some part of him is relieved. The thought of Tony with another man, the thought of having to listen to Tony talk about some other guy—
He clears his throat, pushing a myriad of confusing feelings down. "I can eat."
Tony reaches over the console, patting around in the back. Steve gets another whiff of his fragrance. He pulls away, blinking blindly at the windshield.
"Actually, come to think of it," Tony says, reappearing with a bag of apple chips and some chocolate bars in hand, "It would probably make more sense to move back there. The windows are insulated."
"Trying to get me into the backseat, Stark?" Steve asks, before he can stop himself.
Tony’s eyes widen.
Why did Steve say that? He wants to die. "I mean—"
"You got me," Tony drawls. "I also manipulated the engine to have the car break down at a very convenient moment. This is all part of a very elaborate plan."
Steve snorts. "Very clever." A beat. "Too bad it’s not working."
Tony hums, looking at him intently. "No? You’re not feeling…seduced, not even a little?" he asks, and the tone in his voice—
Steve swallows, careful to keep a straight face. Hell is a place on earth, and it’s the inside of this car with Tony by his side, jokingly flirting with him. Steve should’ve just kept his mouth shut. "Nope."
Tony laughs, and just like that, the tension is broken. If Tony even felt the tension, and Steve isn’t just rapidly losing the plot.
Tony isn’t feeling whatever he’s feeling, Steve reminds himself. Not that Steve’s feeling anything to begin with—
"I’m serious, though, it’s warmer in the back," Tony says. He gives a pointed look at where Steve’s contorting himself to fit into the car. "And roomier."
Steve nods. Anything to put an end to this topic of conversation.
They move to the backseat, and it is more comfortable.
Steve stretches his feet, limbs tingling after sitting so long, folded in the front. God, he hates tiny cars. He makes himself as comfortable as it gets against the seat, which is still not much, and opens the bag of apple chips.
Beside him, Tony’s getting comfortable, too, unknotting his tie with one hand, the other tapping away on his phone. The light from his phone illuminates his profile. Steve forces his gaze way when he realizes he’s been staring at Tony’s mouth for a solid five seconds.
It’s going to be a long wait.
"52 minutes," Tony says, sighing. "Honestly, at this point, it’s probably not even worth going to the dinner."
"It’s up to you," Steve replies, careful to keep his voice neutral. "I’m just here for the free food, and I can get that anywhere."
Tony snorts.
"Not that I don’t appreciate you inviting me to nice dinners," he adds, because he is grateful for any moment he gets to spend with Tony, but— "I’ll take a burger over fancy hoers d’oeuvres any day."
Tony hums, watching him for a long moment. Steve hopes he hasn’t offended him. "You know what," Tony says, "I’ll cancel. I didn’t want to go anyway. I can take Donny golfing, or surfing, or whatever it is he’s doing these days. And we’ll go to that nice diner we passed half an hour ago. What do you think?"
Steve smiles, warmth spreading beneath his rib cage. "I’d love that."
Tony mirrors his smile. "FRIDAY, please let Pep and Donny know I can no longer attend the evening’s festivities."
"Done," comes FRIDAY’s voice. "Shall I send a note to Mr. Stone as well?"
Steve freezes, bag crumbling loudly in his hand.
Send a note to Stone because they’d arranged to meet?
Well, why else would Tony send a note?
"That won’t be necessary," Tony replies after a too long moment. "Thank you, Fri." He falls quiet, turning back to his phone, but Steve can tell he’s just doing it for the sake of letting the awkward moment pass.
The best thing would be to pretend to not know what or who this is about, but Steve has to at least apologize for eavesdropping. He has to. "Tony," he says, taking a deep breath, "I have to tell you something."
Tony sighs. "So do I, but you go first."
"I’ve—eavesdropped earlier. On your call with Pepper. I didn’t mean to, but you mentioned that man and I, I don’t know, I just…I am sorry. That was wrong of me."
Tony chuckles, which is the last thing Steve expected him to do. "That’s it?"
Steve blinks. "I mean, yeah."
Bad enough, in Steve’s opinion.
Tony waves him away. "I shouldn’t have kept it from you to begin with."
Steve frowns. He’s not owed any information on Tony’s private life. He’s just opening his mouth to say so, when Tony says, "Do you know who Tiberius is?"
"Vaguely," Steve says, fighting to keep a straight face.
He wishes he didn’t, but the picture of young Tony and Tiberius is unfortunately ingrained in his memory.
Tony snorts. "Well, he used to be…a good friend, but he was also…" He trails off, eyes darting away.
Steve can fill in the blanks. He swallows heavily, the collar of his dress shirt suddenly tight against his throat.
"I would like to say he was just another lover," Tony says, "But truthfully, I loved him."
"Oh," Steve says, hating every second of this conversation. But it's his own fault, for listening in, for starting the conversation to begin with. He unknots his stupid tie, but it doesn’t help.
"I loved him," Tony says again, a wistful expression crossing his face. It dissolves into a frown after a moment. "And then he turned out to be a narcissistic, manipulative asshole, and not, you know, the fun kind, like me, and that ruined things pretty fast."
"You’re not a narcissistic asshole," Steve says, frowning, because it’s important that Tony knows this. He’s one of the best people Steve knows.
Tony huffs out a soft laugh. "Thank you, but there’s no need to stand up for me. I don’t think I was a good man, either."
"I don’t believe that."
Tony lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if Steve standing up for him is such a hardship. "Well, whatever it was, it’s over, so. We talked it out, a few years ago, and now we can bear to be in each other’s presence. Yay for maturity."
Steve frowns.
"Don’t look at me like that," Tony says, after a moment.
"Like what?"
"Like you’re judging me."
"No, I’m not!" Steve replies. What? "I’m judging him for hurting you."
Tony blinks at him.
"Tony," Steve says, drawing himself up. "I think you’re incredible and everyone that doesn’t see it, anyone that doesn’t appreciate it, is a fool." Steve included, for a very long time. The reminder has him grit his teeth. He was such an idiot, for such a long time. "I am sorry that you had to go through that. You didn't deserve to be treated that way."
Tony’s mouth curls into a tentative smile. "Thank you."
His smile falls after a moment. "And I’m sorry for not telling you. It’s stupid, but I thought, I don’t know, I thought maybe you would think differently of me, we’re just now getting closer, and…" He trails off at the look on Steve’s face. "I am sorry," Tony says again, letting out a heavy breath. "I don’t like thinking about Ty or even who I was back then, and it’s making me think weird things. I know you would understand."
He reaches for Steve’s arm. "I know you."
Steve nods, after a moment. He gets it. There are things he keeps from Tony, too, things he’ll share someday, but just—not quite yet.
Tony takes back his hand.
Immediately, Steve misses its warmth.
"You should’ve told me," he says after a moment of companionable silence, turning to Tony with a smirk, "but only because I would’ve enjoyed making his life hell."
Tony laughs. "Always ready to bring out the Captain America glower, huh?"
Steve shrugs. "Been a while since I could use it on anyone. Things are too quiet lately on the super villain front."
Tony laughs again. Steve likes making Tony laugh. He smirks. "Got all sorts of tricks up my sleeve."
"I bet."
"I could trip him and make it look like an accident."
Tony hums. "A classic. I would’ve enjoyed that."
"Or…" The thought materializes out of nowhere. Tony in his arms, laughing, Steve’s hands on the small of his back, while Stone seethes on the other side of the room. The words are spilling out before Steve can stop them. "Or I could be the perfect fake boyfriend. We could make him regret ever breaking your heart. I bet he still cries himself to sleep over losing you."
Tony blinks. "Well, he does still leave me long, pathetic voice mails on Valentine’s Day," he says at length, still looking startled.
"I’m sorry," Steve says, heart in his throat. "That was, I don’t know what I was thinking—"
"You know what," Tony says, and, no, Steve doesn’t know. Doesn’t know why he keeps opening his mouth and saying stupid, stupid things around Tony. "You would be a great fake boyfriend."
Steve snorts. "I don’t know about that. Might wing the fake part, not sure about the actual boyfriend part, though."
Tony frowns. "Steve, anybody would be lucky to have you."
Steve laughs. "My ex would probably disagree."
"The Pilates guy?" Tony asks, arching one unimpressed eyebrow. "I’m sorry to tell you this, because you seemed very attached to this man for some reason, but he knows nothing. I think you would be a great boyfriend. Actually, I dare say there’s no better boyfriend out there. I mean it. You’re attentive, funny, sweet, loyal, you can—well, you can’t cook, but you make up for it with that." He gestures vaguely at Steve’s body.
"Tony," Steve groans, thunking his head against the head rest.
Tony laughs, reaching for the crook of his elbow. "And you’re weird."
Steve wrinkles his nose.
"That’s a compliment."
Steve hums. Coming from Tony, it does feel like a compliment.
Tony pauses, eyes tracking across Steve’s face. It’s making Steve want to straighten up for some reason, but he feels caught, unable to move, unable to look away. He’s just opening his mouth to ask What?, when Tony says, "And you’re a little mean, which might just be my favorite thing about you."
Steve shuts his mouth, heart jumping to his throat. He has no idea when this turned into—but he’s not imagining this, is he?
Tony is very close.
"I’m sorry—" Tony says, blinking, pulling away.
Steve has no idea what possesses him to do so, but he finds himself reaching for Tony, wrapping a hand around his wrist.
Tony stills.
Tugging him closer feels like simultaneously the easiest and toughest decision of Steve’s life. He holds his breath, sure that any moment Tony will wake up from the spell and pull away, but he doesn’t, he lets Steve tug him closer, falls into his lap, like it’s nothing, like they aren’t about to make the potentially biggest mistake of their life—
"Hey," Steve whispers, face millimeters away from Tony’s.
"Hey," Tony whispers back. Tony’s hands are cold on the exposed skin of his throat.
"I’m sorry," Steve swallows. "I don’t know what I’m doing."
"Neither do I," Tony replies, and then he leans in, and nobody’s speaking anymore.
Their first kiss is everything he’s imagined and more, and Steve had imagined it, he can admit that now, guiltily, selfishly, once or twice over the years, but he’d never imagined it like this, with Tony happy in his lap, with Tony as his friend—
"Tony," he says, when they separate for air.
"Yeah," Tony says, breathing heavily. He looks messed up already, hair askew and collar undone, and all this just from a kiss.
Steve drags Tony in again with both hands around his jaw, opening his mouth for Tony’s tongue. He can’t quite hold in a loud groan when Tony’s hands sink into his hair, gripping tight. His body feels like a life wire everywhere Tony touches him.
"God," Tony says, pulling away. "You’re so—"
Steve tugs him into another kiss before he can finish his sentence.
He can’t stop touching Tony, hands wandering along his shoulder blades, down the lines of his back, until they settle on his ass, squeezing. It makes Tony chuckle into the kiss, but Steve’s already too far gone to worry about looking desperate. It’s hard to think about anything but getting closer, now that he has Tony in his arms.
It’s hard to think about anything but getting under Tony’s shirt, at his warm, soft skin.
Tony’s watching him, eyes wide and intent, visible even in the low light of Steve’s phone. His one hand wanders to Steve’s collar, playing with the button there. "Can I…"
Seems like they’re on the same page.
Steve swallows heavily. "Yeah."
Tony makes quick work of his buttons, tugging his shirt open and to the side.
The cool air hitting Steve’s skin makes him shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the way Tony looking at him is making him feel. Steve knows he’s not bad-looking, he’s had plenty of people tell him so, but when Tony looks at him, he feels truly wanted—truly desired.
"Thought about this for so long," Tony murmurs, tracing the sensitive skin around Steve’s left pec with one finger, maddeningly slow.
"What did you—what did you think about?" Steve breathes out.
Tony’s eyes flick back to his, mouth curling into a smirk. "Oh, you know, all sorts of things." His hand wanders to Steve’s belly button, making Steve twitch. "What you’d look like, what you’d sound like." His hands settle teasingly on the fly of Steve’s pants. "What your dick would look like." A beat. "In my mouth."
"Oh, god."
Tony chuckles. One of his knuckles grazes Steve’s dick. "Can I?"
Steve nods.
Tony hums, and pops open Steve’s fly, and then—
Steve thunks his head against the backseat, mouth falling open. Finally, having Tony’s hand around his dick is indescribable.
"Steve," Tony murmurs, moving his hands tortuously slow on Steve’s dick, "If you could see yourself right now..."
Steve squeezes his eyes shut and tugs Tony close again for another kiss. It feels good, letting Tony touch him, letting Tony talk to him, but he wants to touch, too. He needs to touch Tony, too. He snakes a hand under the hem of Tony’s shirt, grazing the skin of his stomach. Tony shivers in his arms. It feels silly to ask, but—
"Can I touch you, too?"
Tony chuckles, hand slowing on his dick. Steve’s quickly getting addicted to the sound. "Go for it."
Steve pops open the collar of Tony’s dress shirt, brushing a hand across his throat.
Tony’s skin is cool under his skin. It would be wiser, probably, to do this on a bed, or a space where the temperature isn’t hovering around five degrees, but for some reason, Steve loves that they’re doing it here.
Loves that it’s just them here, nobody else around far and wide, nobody else to see Tony but him.
He removes his hand from Tony’s collar and does what he’s wanted to do all along: he squeezes around the hot heat of Tony’s clothed dick.
Tony’s shocked gasp is satisfying, but Steve needs more.
He makes quick work of Tony’s fly and slides his hand in, and then finally, finally, has his hand around Tony’s cock. With the other, he tugs Tony close for another open-mouthed kiss.
If they were somewhere else, he’d take his time to explore Tony’s body, find out what makes him moan and gasp, but this feels good right now, holding Tony tight against him and playing with his cock, and it gets even better, when Tony tightens his grip on Steve’s cock, and they’re moving together, not much finesse or rhythm involved, gasping into each other mouths—
It’s the feeling of Tony coming against him, wet, hot heat in his hand, and Tony’s low moan against his throat, that finally sends Steve over the edge.
He comes with a loud cry, body arching against Tony’s.
"Fuck," he says, when he comes down, bowled over by the intensity of his orgasm. It’s never been like this with anyone else. He blinks against the ceiling, willing his heart to slow down. Tony lets out a chuckle where he’s lying with his face hidden in the space between Steve’s throat and shoulder.
After a moment, he rolls his head around, gaze finding Steve’s. He looks—content, languid, but there’s an undercurrent of nervousness on his face.
Steve understands.
But he wants this, so much, wants to keep kissing Tony, to take him out on dates. Wants everything with Tony, their future opening and unfolding in his mind’s eye, suddenly crystal clear.
He ducks his head and Tony meets him halfway, their mouths meeting in a soft kiss. One of Tony’s hands lifts and brushes against his jaw. Still cold. Steve catches it in his and draws it to his mouth, leaving a kiss on the palm. It’s cheesy, but he doesn’t care.
Tony smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides, and burrows further into Steve’s chest.
Steve pats around until he gets hold of Tony’s coat and spreads it over them. They’ll have to disentangle and get dressed soon, but for now, this is perfect.
For now, nobody is looking for them.