Chapter Text
The train car sways back and forth, thickening the atmosphere within Steve as it hits bump after bump.
“I don’t know, I just kind of thought that it would have happened already if it was going to, you know?”
“Hm.”
“I mean, given that this conversation is happening, I already know I’m wrong.”
“Sam, look at Tony and I from a bird’s eye view.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“We’re always... you know.”
“Yup.”
“And then we just...”
“Mmmhm.”
He gets off at 33rd, chocolate stout still on his tongue.
“I guess the better question is, why now?”
The receptionist only gives him a little bit of a hard time, the second receptionist who comes over to help the first an even harder time, and the third takes one look at him and lets him up to see Tony.
Steve’s never actually been in NYU Langone before. He’s brought people here, signed paperwork involving it, met some of the administrators, but he’s never needed to navigate the hospital. He gets lost immediately. A kind young nurse with freckles and dark red highlights in her hair helps him find the room.
He’s doing this. He’s doing this. He’s really doing this.
“I don’t know, Sam. I’m just... I’m tired.”
There’s another nurse securing a new cath bag to Tony when they enter.
Tony.
Who is hooked up on various wires to keep his limbs up off the bed, save for his right, all in casts; a limp puppet.
“Being tired doesn’t really sound like a good reason to tell a man you’re in love with him.”
A glance around reveals a whole lot of nothing. With nothing, there is something – a whole lot of nothing. No flowers, no fruit baskets, no envelopes of well-wishes.
“Excuse me,” Steve says softly as the initial shock fades away, catching the nurse who’s about to walk out. “Did he receive any gifts?”
The nurse blinks, frowning. “I don’t think so? Let me go check.”
“Has anyone else been here?”
“I... again, I’d need to go check, I wasn’t here when he was brought in or when he got out of surgery.”
“I- surgery?”
“Well, yes, he broke at least one bone in every limb.”
Iron Man doesn’t get hurt like that, not in the suit.
He turns back to Tony.
“It’s more just that I’m tired of running away from him.”
“Now that’s a better reason.”
“I need to speak with the doctor, please.”
“Jocasta said he’s going to be alright.”
“You really want to give him the news that you’ve been holding a torch for him for decades when he’s all busted up like this?”
“Let me see if I can track someone down for you, we just had our shift change. What’s your name?” she asks innocently.
“Rogers. Steve Rogers.”
“OH!” She covers her mouth with both hands. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t recognize you!”
“That’s alright. It happens more than you might think.”
“I’m going to go get someone for you, sir!”
“Thank you.”
“I guess I could wait.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, really. But, yeah. You could.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Haha! Ah, man, Steve. I feel like I need to ask if this is because Sharon—”
“No, it’s not.”
Why would Jocasta say that Tony was going to be fine if he was in this condition?
He sends a quick message off to a few people. This doesn’t make any sense.
Stepping closer, he grabs the chart off from the end of the bed. Most of it makes as much sense as Tony sitting here with every limb broken and nobody by his side.
There’s so much that isn’t fine.
“How you gonna do it, then?”
“Haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Maybe you should. Steve, think about it. This is Tony we’re talking about. He’s a romantic. He does wining and dining and big trips to remote islands.”
“Extravagance isn’t everything.”
Bruised kidneys, internal bleeding, head wounds, contusions everywhere.
Iron Man doesn’t get this hurt from falling from the sky. His armor makes sure of it.
How did this happen?
Voices outside.
“I don’t give a good goddamn about how much money Stark gives to this hospital, Nadine. It’s money. We need it. We get it. We spend it. People live. He gets the same quality of care as everyone else.”
It’s only because his hearing is so good that he hears it, but he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.
“Doctor Camden.”
“I don’t wanna hear it! I don’t.”
“Doctor Ca—”
“Nadine, I’m serious, don’t mess with me today. I had a really crappy night and—”
“Zoe, Captain America is here.”
Silence.
The door opens.
“Hi! I’m Doctor Camden,” says a short, stout woman with bleached blonde hair and an accent that tells him nothing. She reaches out her hand, he takes it, shakes, then goes back to looking at the chart. “Ah, if I may? I can update you on his condition.”
He flips to the next page.
“You’re giving him morphine.”
“But he is someone who, when he cares for you, he goes all out.”
“Believe me, I know, Sam.”
“You ever notice that the women he dates never do much for him back?”
“That’s... standard for after having major surgery. May I?” She puts her hand on the chart and takes it from him, eyes moving quick over the pages. “I’m not seeing an allergy listed anywhere. Is there something else—”
“He’s an addict.”
She pauses. “Oh, I see. Well, we are aware of Mister Stark’s struggle with alcoholism—”
“He was addicted to morphine.”
Another pause.
“I see. We don’t seem to have that on file. We’ll get him set up on... actually... there’s a new drug that’s been approved by the FDA. Non-opioid. I’ll get someone started on checking if his insurance will—”
“I’ll pay for it, if they don’t.” Tony doesn’t deserve to be addicted against his will. The doctor gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Can you... please tell me what his situation is.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think it’s the money.”
“Tony’s always been drawn to cash crazy chicks.”
“That’s a gross way to refer to women, Captain America.”
“Ooo, shit, now I’m in trouble! You know I’m right.”
“You’re right, but you could be more respectful. Some of those women are very smart.”
“Some.”
He’d died.
Tony had died twice on the operating table.
Not the first time Tony has died. It comes with the job. Steve and Tony and many of their friends have died in the line of duty, some of them several times over.
Things just aren’t adding up. Jocasta is saying she wasn’t aware of his heart stopping either time, Pepper isn’t answering his calls.
Was there really nobody here when he came in?
He texts Carol first, Jan, Wanda, Rhodey. For himself, then Sam, Bucky and Natasha in their ‘make Steve the third wheel’ group chat, and Clint for extra measure. A few hours later, they all manage to come to one solid conclusion: everyone thought someone else was taking care of it. Tony had slipped through the cracks.
“There’s a reason you brought this up to me before you did it.”
“Because you’re my friend and one of my closest confidantes. I know I can trust you with how I feel about Tony.”
“Steve, buddy, the whole superhero community knows how you feel about Tony.”
“I- th- hey! That’s not—”
“I’m dead serious, man. You two have had this thing going on since before I met you. It’s like... I dunno, it’s like this whole intense undercurrent to everything you do, like you’re thinking about what the other is gonna think or do or say in reaction to a decision you make. Sometimes it’s like the whole world revolves around it.”
Steve doesn’t leave Tony’s side much after that. He orders food to the room, takes a shower in the attached bathroom, stretches out on the sticky grey-green recliner and naps with his arms crossed. He’s never needed much sleep, anyways.
The thoughts that run through his head are completely improper. Tony’s bruised and battered, but somehow just as gorgeous as he always has been. Steve would never do anything untoward, though four nights later, he wakes up from a dream about running his hands through the portion of hair that doesn’t have stitches under it and leaning down to press a sweet kiss to Tony’s lips, waking Tony from his slumber like a fairytale.
“Is it really that obvious? What I feel?”
“I think so.”
“Gosh.”
It’s taking a while for Tony to wake up properly. That one doctor doesn’t appear again - apparently the hospital is running on NYU’s best and brightest med students and their barely-there fumes – but the Dean of Medicine herself does come to check up on him, asking if there is anything she can do.
“Can we get another MRI on him?” he asks as she does some neurological tests on Tony – checking his eyes, pupil dilation, if he can feel pain, and all of it is good.
“Of course. This is, however, definitely to be expected of this kind of recovery. We’re very lucky that he’s not in a full coma. He’ll probably be in and out of it for a few more days. His body is healing and using a lot of energy to do it. Add in the pain, and of course he’s going to be—”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”
“You gonna bring him flowers?”
“I’m sure there are already enough flowers there for him.”
“Dude.”
“Sam, I don’t even know how he’s going to react. He might throw me out, for all I know.”
Sleep on the seventh night comes to Steve fitfully; tossing and turning, not quite reaching REM. Peak human condition. The serum helped him reach that. Thing is, the serum doesn’t know what the homo sapiens brain experiences as peak human condition when it comes to mental and psychological ailments – and certainly not after what he’s been through since waking up from the ice. PTSD, some call it. Others insomnia. His body battles him, sometimes, when he needs to sleep to make sure he’s rested up for combat, or when he needs to stay awake for surveillance or extended combat.
At some point around two in the morning, he hears Tony’s strings pulling at the hooks, that little squeak of metal on metal. It’s been happening more and more. That's good news. More movement means closer to full consciousness.
And then the click of a button.
Curled up with his socked feet on the chair and a blanket tucked around his mass, Steve steals a look at Tony. His eyes are still closed. Maybe he imagined it.
He closes his eyes again.
The door opens, someone comes in.
“Mister Stark?” comes the whisper of Nadine.
“Do you want him to throw you out after you tell him that you love him?”
“No.”
“Then why are you speaking that into truth?”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“You’re such a drama queen.”
“Hunh...” A clearing of the throat. “H’w long’s he been here.”
“The other nurses have said he hasn’t left.”
“Time.”
“You’ve been here nine days. He’s been here a week.”
“He eat?”
“Yessir.”
The creaks of the bed, again.
“How bad.”
“You’ve broken forty-three bones in total and sustained major internal injuries. Your heart stopped twice on the operating table. Do you remember what happened?”
“... fell. Repulsors. Stopped.” Every word now sounds like it’s taking more and more effort.
“You should rest. Do you want me to wake him up for you?”
“Let’m sleep.”
Any other day Tony would know that Steve isn’t asleep, having long since become used to Steve’s breathing patterns when asleep. Tony falls back to silence, probably his own sleep. Steve hears Nadine pick up the chart and make some notes, then leave.
After she’s gone, Steve gets up, picks up the heavy recliner with ease, and places it right next to Tony’s bedside, leaning back again to try and sleep.
It doesn’t work. He leans forward onto Tony’s bed and folds his arms as a pillow for his head,
Everything hits him all at once.
Carefully, he runs the back of his forefinger over the back of Tony’s scratched knuckles on his exposed right hand.
“Look, I’m not gonna say anything about what Tony may or may not feel for you, but you gotta know, you’re different from everyone else in Tony’s eyes.”
“That could all change when he finds out one of his closest friends has been harboring feelings for him. Maybe I won’t be so different, since I’m a man. That’s a big deal.”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean sometimes it’s a big deal. You don’t know if being with a man would be a big deal for Tony.”
He wakes to the feeling of fingers at the nape of his neck, dancing softly along his hairline. That’s nice. Steve can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. Sharon stopped a long time ago.
“Hey, Cap,” Tony roughly attempts.
Taking a sharp breath in, Steve raises his head from his arms.
“He’s straight.”
“So are you.”
“No I’m not.”
“But almost everyone thinks you are. You don’t talk about it, how’s anyone supposed to know?”
“I... I guess I thought it was obvious. I look at men. Plenty.”
The shocking blue of Tony’s eyes is dampened by exhaustion, but it doesn’t stop Steve from falling into them and staying there. Tony’s hand drops from his neck back to the bed – more exhaustion, though Steve misses the touch dearly the second it’s gone.
“Welcome back to the world, Tony. How are you feeling?”
“Bad.”
Steve smiles wearily, glancing at Tony’s hand. And, well... he came here, originally, for a reason. It’s selfish, taking Tony’s fingers as gentle as he can, running his own over the back of Tony’s knuckles just like he did the night before. He hopes at least it’s comforting. Tony sighs, groaning as his ribs move against what must be dozens if not hundreds of internal stitches and scrunching his eyes closed.
“Are you in pain?”
“No. Uncomf’rtble. What... med. Not morphine.”
“Not morphine. I had them take you off of it. You’re on a new non-opioid pain med. Is it enough? Are you in pain?”
Tony pauses, probably processing that information. Then, he turns a soft smile onto Steve. “’Sfine. Thankyou.”
It’s slurred and genuine and it hits Steve somewhere deep in the his heart where he keeps all those pent-up feelings. Tony squeezes Steve’s hand back before his eyes fall shut again and he quickly drifts back to sleep.
“Nobody pays attention to when you look at men except for maybe me, and that’s only because I’m the most socially observant of your close friends, except for maybe Bucky, and you know why that is. You don’t talk about being queer. Neither does Tony, to be fair, but he hasn’t exactly struck up any serious relationships with men. As far as I know, I mean.”
“... serious relationships?”
“How is it that you don’t know about this?”
“About what?”
Tony wakes up again. The Dean of Medicine is at his bedside sucking up in an instant. He mostly ignores her, focusing on Steve instead.
“The Avengers sent you to keep me company?”
And Steve doesn’t know how to answer that truthfully, so he lies. “Kind of. I want to be here.”
Okay, so half a lie.
“Dude.”
Back to sleep, for Tony.
“You want his money,” Steve accuses the Dean just as she’s about to walk out the door.
She pauses, turns around on her shiny black heels. “It’s in the hospital’s best interest to ensure Mister Stark’s stay here is—”
“I’ll give. You can put my name on a plaque somewhere. It’ll make you look really good, and you’ll leave him alone to his healing.”
She gives him a practiced, easy smile. “Of course, Captain. We thank you for your charity.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh!”
“How did I never know about that?”
“I told you, neither of you talk about it. Plus, I think you got this thing with him. Tunnel vision. You only see what you want to see of him, sometimes.”
“I see the best in Tony.”
“And his worst.”
Even with one hand with both arms in casts, Tony can’t feed himself. He’s been on a feeding tube, which comes out quickly, and then he’s jokingly demanding a whole pie, and then someone brings in two plates of food. Tony gets chicken bone broth; Steve gets a hefty plate of mac and cheese and a side salad. Because Tony is Tony, he complains about not having solid food the entire time Steve is ladling it into his whiny mouth.
He tries hard not to think about leaning down to press his lips against Tony’s and fails miserably.
Eventually, Tony suckers Steve into giving him a bite of mac and cheese. He doesn’t have any issue digesting it, but the nurse tells him off for it once Tony falls back asleep.
“This isn’t really what I was expecting to talk about, Sam.”
“Tell me what you wanna talk about, then. I’m all ears, bud. You got me for the next... two hours.”
“I...”
“Do you want me to talk you out of it? I think it’s a great idea for you to tell him, but I also think you gotta lay down some moves. Make him feel as special as he really is to you.”
“Woo him?”
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
A different doctor comes, this time claiming that he’s the one actually assigned to Tony’s case – Doctor Munroe. He wakes Tony up, lays it all out for him.
Steve has always been aware that Tony’s body isn’t the same as a typical human body. He’s biohacked himself to the moon and back. Even though he doesn’t have a supersoldier serum, his healing factor is dialed up for his recovery to be much smoother. A few x-rays reveal that the broken bones are starting to heal already. For some reason, Tony doesn’t seem too happy about this.
“It’s supposed to be faster,” he says, looking at the imaging as Steve holds it out for him to look at. “I’m getting old.”
He nearly says it then – I love you no matter how old you are – but doesn’t.
“Let’s practice. I’m Tony. You’re Steve. I’m all messed up, but happy to see you, because you’re my friend. Hey, Steve! How’s it going!”
“Sam. I don’t want to...”
“Yes, but you’re going to.”
“I... fine. Hi, Tony. I’m... good. How’re you?”
“You’re awful at this.”
“Yeah, because you’re not actually Tony!”
“Pretend harder.”
“Fine, fine. Uh... so. You’re not doing so hot.”
“Nope.”
“See, I don’t think it’s me who’s bad at this, Sam.”
“I’m a great Tony!”
“I can’t look at you and tell you that I love you when you’re not Tony! I do love you, but it's... it's different.”
They’re looking at transferring Tony out of the hospital so he can heal at home. Someone suggests a nurse service. Steve suggests himself.
“I can’t put you out like that, Steve. Ow!” Tony exclaims as a technician takes out a stitch on his forehead. Accelerated healing and all that. “I can afford in-home care.”
“It wouldn’t be putting me out at all, Tony.”
“I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”
Some of the others have visited. Clint first, surprisingly, since the guy never shows up first to anything, then Natasha, Pepper came for a few hours before taking a red eye back to Seattle, Carol as soon as she could and Rhodey quickly after that. Everyone’s busy, busy, busy.
“I’m not exactly active duty at the moment, Tony. I have all the time to put towards helping you out.”
“What about Sharon? I’m sure she would—”
“We’re not...” he interrupts, then trails off. “We’re not... together. Anymore.”
And haven’t been for a long time.
Weird how Tony hasn’t picked up on that. Or, weird how Steve hasn’t told him. Why hadn’t he?
“I’ll wait for a natural lull, then I’ll say it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Oh,” Tony says weakly. He winces a bit at the next stitch coming out. “When did that happen?”
“A bit ago.”
“All I know is that I need to feel it when I say it.”
“Roses.”
“Sam.”
“Tulips. Something. Anything, man.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to talk about, Tony, promise,” he laughs. “We weren’t in sync, and she wanted to move on.”
Tony squints at him. “Hmmm... there’s way more to that, isn’t there?”
Caught under those spotlight eyes, as per usual.
“You really think that my words won’t be enough?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Kind of implied.”
“Isn’t there always?” It’s a sad attempt at deflection. Tony doesn’t buy it. “I couldn’t love her in the way she needed.”
A half-truth.
“Don’t you think... I don’t know. Flowers seem like a weak start to...”
“So you do think that you can start something up!”
“I don’t know!”
Tony hums. “Sorry to hear that you couldn’t make it work.”
“It’s alright. We’re moving on. She’s doing great things without me.”
“Do you think you’ll get back together, some day?”
“No,” he chuckles again, looking at the speckled linoleum and away from Tony’s gaze. “I think this was the last of us.”
“Ow!” Tony exclaims again. “Are we nearly done?”
“Just a few more. I’m sorry this is taking so long, Mister Stark. I want to make sure there’s as little scarring as possible.”
“You think I’m prettier without the messed-up face, huh?” Tony flirts, giving one of those dazzling smiles to the man, and oh.
He’s a man.
Really, how did Steve manage to miss this?
“Sorry, sweet cheeks, I’m taken,” the technician says with a flamboyant, disinterested lilt.
And even though that’s the case, Steve is an asshole, and the jealousy he’s been trying and failing to cram away into a nook where nobody can see it ignites a fire deeper than the burn going up the back of his neck.
“You do have your hopes up!”
He’s an asshole because Sam told him so.
Tony smiles at the tech again, slightly softer, then rolls his eyes back to Steve.
“You already know I’m a hell of an undertaking, Steve. I’ve got four broken limbs. I’m going to have to learn how to walk again, I’ll be out of commission for God knows how long.”
How does he tell Tony that he wants to take care of him so badly that it hurts?
“I’m in. Tony, this is well within my wheelhouse, and there’s not a whole lot that I wouldn’t do for you. I love you, of course I want to help.”
He means it. He means it. He means it.
He feels it.
“It’s- I want...”
“You want him.”
Tony’s head sinks further into the pillow, his eyes widening slightly. After a moment, Tony laughs lightly. “I love you too, buddy. Fine, yeah, we’ll figure something out. It’s not like I don’t have the room for you. Look, you just need to promise me you won’t look at me differently after you help me wipe the shit from my ass.”
Buddy.
Steve nods as Tony sighs and settles back, closing his eyes.
He looks up to the tech. The man’s already looking at him, chin pointed down and brow raised high in a judgement that feels like it should be accompanied with a levelling 'Girl' or 'Girlfriend' or whatever it is people say these days – but he doesn’t say anything at all. In fact, he pinches his forefinger and thumb in front of his mouth and pulls it from one side to the other in a zip.
Hopefully that means he won’t be saying anything, keeping schtum.
“I... yeah, I want him.”
Tony falls back asleep.
It gives Steve some time to process.
He said it, Tony said it back, and Tony clearly thinks that he meant it in a purely platonic way.
Hell.