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Howard kissed one of Steve's nipples and sighed. He was exhausted, sated; he laid his head on Steve's chest. "Tell me about your parents."
"My parents? Why?" Steve ran a hand through Howard's hair.
He shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess. I'll tell you about mine. Howard and Elizabeth Stark, married against the strong objections of her family. I have one younger brother--"
"Your mom's parents didn't want her to marry your dad? Why? I thought he'd be a great catch."
"My mother is from old money and my father is a self-made man."
Steve snorted and began to massage his scalp. "Money is money."
"Not to those who've always had it. Mmm." Howard closed his eyes and stretched. "I love your hands."
"Yeah?" Steve slid his hands down to the small of Howard's back then drew lazy circles there.
He could feel Steve getting hard again and he chuckled. "You better put that back in the holster, soldier. You might be able to draw your gun again, but I reached my limit an hour ago."
"There's always your mouth."
"My mouth is tired, too. Not all of us are super soldiers." He yawned. "And stop trying to distract me. Let's hear it."
Steve huffed softly. "There's nothing to hear. My parents were immigrants. My dad died when I was a kid, I don't even remember him. My mom was a nurse; she died when I was a teenager. You should know this, it's in my file."
He hadn't actually read the file. "It's not the same as hearing it from you."
"Well, now you have. " Steve gently pushed him. "Get off, I need to be back before lights out."
Howard rolled away. "You could stay."
"You know I can't." Steve gathered his clothing and began to dress. "If they catch me out of my bunk again, I'll be peeling potatoes until the end of the war. Besides, you said you were done."
"I am, but that doesn't mean you can't stay." He sat up and tried his most charming smile.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark."
Mr. Stark. He wanted to tell Steve that "Mr. Stark" was his father.
*****
Steve walked into Howard's workroom looking bright-eyed and freshly showered; for a few seconds, he could not breathe. "What's this?"
"Lunch. I did say we were having lunch."
"Yeah, but when you say lunch, you usually mean…" Steve's ears turned red and he rubbed the back of his neck.
"This time, I meant lunch."
"What is it?"
"Fondue. Bread and cheese, remember?" He gestured for Steve to sit down. "You'll like it. Everyone likes bread and cheese."
Steve sat and looked skeptically at the pot of melted cheese.
"It doesn't bite, though it is hot. " He gently nudged Steve's foot with his. "Come on, isn't this why you joined the military? To fight Nazis and try new things?"
"You're a strange man, Mr. Stark."
Howard clenched his hand into a fist, then forced himself to relax it. He smiled. "So I've been told."
*****
Every letter from his father ended the same way: Howard, when are you going to grow up and come home?
Ever letter to his father started the same way: Hello, Father, I hope you're well. Did you receive the latest schematics I sent?
Howard never once answered his question. What could he say? He wasn't sure himself.
*****
Steve flopped down in the seat across from him in the mess hall as he read the latest letter from home. "Hey. Another letter from your dad? Not bad news, I hope."
"No, just the usual drivel." He tossed the letter at Steve who opened it up and scanned the pages. "He wants to know when I'm going to stop ruining my life."
"He doesn't say that." Steve stole his toast. "He's just worried about you. "
"He's worried about his profit margins." He stole it right back.
"That's unfair. He loves you and he wants you to be safe." Steve eyed the toast until Howard sighed and handed it back. "Thanks."
"I'm doing good here, Steve. I'm getting things done."
"Yeah, but you'd be safer back home."
He wanted to say, I don't want to be safe. I want to be here. I need to be here. Instead, he shrugged. "It's boring in New York. I'd rather be where all the excitement is."
"This isn't a game, Mr. Stark. If you had any sense, you'd go home." Steve's voice was cold, angry: Howard's own anger flared up.
"You should mind your own business!" He snatched the letter from the table, ignored the startled, hurt look on Steve's face, and stormed out.
They didn't speak to each other again until Steve came back from another mission with a few of HYDRA's toys. He accepted the apology and gave one of his own. By the time he was done, Steve was a very happy puddle and he had to wash his mustache.
*****
Howard didn't stir until Steve sat up in bed. "Where are you going?"
"I have training with Bucky in fifteen minutes. Where's my shirt?"
He gestured to one of the far corners. "I think I tossed it somewhere over there." He sat up, put his arms around Steve, and kissed his shoulder. "Don't go. Tell Barnes you lost track of time."
"He knows I wouldn't do that. "
"Then tell him you have a girl. That's almost true." He kissed along Steve's shoulder, up his neck, and across his jaw. When he got close to Steve's mouth, he got the same reaction he always did.
Steve turned his head. "Don't."
No, he decided he wasn't going to accept that. He tried again, but Steve pushed him way.
"I said no, Mr. Stark." Steve pulled away and got to his feet.
Something inside of Howard snapped and all the anger and shame he'd been holding in came pouring out. "Howard!"
Steve blinked. "What?"
"My name is Howard! Why won't you call me Howard? I've had you in my mouth, we've touched each other, we've... You won't kiss me! I want to know why. I deserve to know why."
When the answer came, it was in a soft, quiet voice. "Why should I?"
Howard felt like he had been punched.
"Mr. Stark, you're a nice guy and I like you, but we're just helping each other out." Steve sat down on the bed, frowning at him. "I'm just a poor kid from Brooklyn. You wouldn't have even looked at me back before all this. You saw me, I was just this scrawny, sickly kid."
"No," he whispered and shook his head.
"Yeah, and that's all right. You're rich and handsome and so smart it's scary. When the war's over, you're going to go back to your fancy parties with your rich friends and your million dollar company and I'm going to go back to Brooklyn, trying to make ends meet. I knew this was nothing. Just friends helping each other out, remember? And friends don't kiss." Steve smiled and reached over to stroke his hair. "I'm Steve Rogers, just Steve Rogers. I'm nobody important. But you, you're Mr. Stark. Rich, handsome, brilliant Mr. Stark."
He couldn't speak. He wouldn't know what to say even if he could, because Steve was right, but he was wrong too. He sat there, silent, and watched Steve dress, watched him walk to the door, where he paused.
"Can I... I'll see you later?" Steve asked, hesitantly.
He nodded; an automatic gesture. When the door closed behind Steve, he let out a gasp. Oh, he thought, this was what a broken heart felt like.