Chapter Text
Tony slipped silently out the door, only the snick of the lock echoed in the dim room. He knew Steve would wake up to an empty bed. Again. He blinked twice, then squeezed his eyes shut.
"Lights," commanded Tony, stumbling into his workshop. JARVIS immediately set lights to half-power and Tony grunted in a somewhat thankful manner. "Sir? Did something disturb your rest?" The AI is polite as always, notes Tony, and momentarily considered not replying. After debating answering, the genius billionaire playboy philanthopist sighed softly. "Nah, just the usual." "Of course, sir." The comforting whir of Dummy reached Tony's ears, and his hand stretched out automatically to stroke the little bot. The smell of motor oil always existed down here, seemingly permeating everything. It smelled nice. If only it didn't ruin shirts, Tony could make motor oil scented detergent. Maybe Bruce would do it for him, Tony wasn't great with anything outside of the Numbers. Humming to himself, he pulled up a new tablet. The soft noises of work enveloped Tony, and he relaxed into the familiar thread of spreadsheets and engineering drafts. This was safe. His bots were safe. The Numbers were safe. They whirl by lazily, always out of reach but never truly gone. Except, of course, when he was with Steve.
Tony flinched, the memory of the night's earlier fight dredged up. Angry blue eyes, tight muscles, yelling until Bruce snapped. Steve was upset with him. Steve was hurt, and it was Tony's fault. Irresponsible Tony. Stupid Tony. Useless Tony. Tony to Howard. Tony was nothing like Howard, everything like Howard. The only thing consistent was Steve. Of course it was. It was always back to Steve. Blue eyes blonde hair glowing skin innocent kind good hearted Steve. Groaning, Tony reached for the bottle of Scotch nearby. Thank the higher beings Natasha and Bruce hadn't found all of it. Damn Steve for being Steve. Damn Bruce for being so motherly. Damn Natasha for being so therapist-y. Was that a word? Therapist-y sounded right for Tasha, anyway. It was all too much. "Time to get busy," he whispered, focusing on the swirling figures until there was nothing but the Numbers. Just Numbers.
^^^
It was Afghanistan again. Heat, sand, and a dark, dark cave. Yinsen didn't know where they took him at night, which was totally okay with Tony. Someone else knowing would shred his heart to pieces. Ha. Ha. Bad pun. Tony felt himself being roped up again, his wrists chafing from the nights before. It was always the same, except when there was a new guard. At least there weren't new guards too often. This seemed to be a rather dull night, though the dream state did not lessen the pain. Tony gritted his teeth and set his jaw, determined to at least be quiet. He didn't often succeed. His father was right, Tony really was a fuck up. This was how he had to repay, Tony guessed, and it was a hell of a whopper. Suddenly the dreamscape shifted into something much, much darker and Tony's will to keep silent failed once more.
Tony woke up to the sound of his own screams. Dummy hovered anxiously with the fire extinguisher and JARVIS worriedly tried to convince him to put it down. Panting against the floor, Tony wondered briefly how he got there then his back was on fire and oh yeah, that's how. "Sir? Sir! Dummy, for the last time, Sir is alright, please do not spray him!" Tony coughed, trying to make his vocal chords work again. Dummy slowly lowered the extinguisher, then rolled to Tony's side and meeped. Curling in on himself, Tony let his eyes slide shut. Just a dream. Nothing but a dream. The Numbers whirled madly around the room, until the sound of smashing glass had panic crawled up his throat. "Captain, please, Sir is healthy, I have been monitoring his vitals-" "Cut the crap, JARVIS. Half of Stark Tower heard those screams and I know it was him." Steve's voice. It was Steve. JARVIS was lying to Steve for Tony. He could even corrupt AIs. How fucked up was that?
Tony nearly screamed again when Steve kneeled next to him; his thoughts focused on Tony Stark corrupting AIs and what else JARVIS could lie about and to whom. "No, Tony hey it's just me don't freak out it's okay," Steve babbled, and Tony turned his head slowly, that fact sinking in slowly. Captain America was babbling over Tony Stark. Everything was fucked up, apparently. Things looked fucked up from the floor. Did things always look like this from the floor? Tony let himself ponder while Steve's babbling flowed around him. Suddenly Bruce's voice cut through, calm compared to the octave that Steve's voice had reached. "Steve, go upstairs." Tony turned his pondering to that, Bruce telling Steve to go away? Things were very fucked up indeed. A small hand rested on Tony's shoudler, and he shied away instinctively. Bruce sighed, pulling his hand back. "Tony." The wall was very interesting suddenly. "You have to tell him." "No." It was the last word Tony uttered for three days.
Three days later, Bruce found Tony in his workship staring at a rather large glass piece of the now-fragmented Scotch bottle. Tony's finger was already bleeding, but he didn't mind. Not really. The pain distracted him from the Numbers. JARVIS hummed softly, and apparently Bruce had been talking to him, because now JARVIS was telling Bruce not to worry, he had known and would have called Bruce before it worsened. A slightly animalistic growl eminated from Bruce's strained form, as he fought to remain in control. Funny. Tony wasn't even afraid. That probably wasn't healthy. "Tony." Bruce was now in front of him, staring at the piece of glass. "How long?" Tony thought for a moment, then shrugged. He didn't know. Wanting to die didn't really have a beginning and end date for Tony Stark. Even if he was dating Captain America.
Tony dropped the piece of glass, a burning sensation in his palm. Dummy meeped sympathetically and offered an oil-stained rag. Bruce's brow knotted momentarily, and he cleared his throat. "If you won't tell him, I will." Tony wheezed suddenly, Steve couldn't know, It wasn't an Outcome. Steve would dump him, Steve would leave him more broken than before, Steve was the best thing Tony had, Tony didn't deserve Steve but he couldn't bear the thought of not having him. Steve. His name was calming. It was a nice name. Suddenly Steve's voice was there too and it was like a cool breeze on a hot day. Tony turned into the noise unthinkingly, and sighed. Bruce tapped his shoulder. "Tony, answer Steve." "What?" His voice cracked, rusty from disuse. Steve looked at him strangely, then spoke again. "I said, tell who what?" The cool breeze was gone, suddenly it was Afghanistan again and Tony couldn't escape the scalding sand that was burying him.
Bruce's arms surrounded him on one side, Steve's on the other. "Hey, hey Tony please look at me sweetheart. What's wrong? Bruce, what's wrong with him? Is he okay?" Tony felt Bruce's chest rumble beside him, a surprisingly gentle sigh. He struggled, pushing at them both weakly. Bruce couldn't tell Steve. Tony had to. He found he didn't want to. "He's gotta tell you. Hey Tony I know you can hear me, just do it. Like a bandaid, like you told me to." Banner's voice was calm, smooth as ever and Tony found himself nodding slowly. Wait no, he couldn't tell, It wasn't an Outcome. Outcomes had to be calculated. This wasn't calculated, there were too few Numbers. Numbers-Steve's arms. Steve's arms on Tony's. It was nice. Safe. Steve was safe. Wasn't he? Tony could tell Steve. Steve could understand. He leaned into Steve's nice arms. Bruce let go slowly, and Steve carefully wrapped Tony around him. Tony let himself be wrapped. Only for Steve.
Tony heard Bruce start to walk away, and he made a noise of protest. Bruce's footsteps stopped. "Stay." was all he could manage, but it worked. Steve settled onto the oil-stained couch with Tony, and Bruce leaned against the table near them. On Tony's side, of course. That was nice too. Friends were nice. Steve spoke softly, as though Tony were a spooked animal, "Now, what am I being told?" Tony shuddered, and shifted back a bit. "A story. Then you get to choose something at the end." Steve quirked his upper lip, his eyes catching Tony's. Tony worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Okay... Who's telling me?" Bruce tilted his head towards Tony slightly, and Tony nodded, "Well. Mostly. Banner, you might have to fill in some... stuff. Later." Bruce ducked his head at that, and Steve's face grew a little more lined. "Tony," his tone carried a slight warning, and Tony nodded again. "I'll try. Promise." He let his hand settle on Steve's knee, and Steve placed a warm hand over his. That was very nice. The Numbers slowed even more. With a sigh, Tony opened his mouth and let It pour out. Each word felt like a Sunday confession, each pause was an eternity of unspoken agony. Steve listened.
^^^
"I knew a kid once. His dad didn't like him very much, in fact, his dad was pretty fucking mean. This kid's dad yelled at him, beat him, or ignored him. Or... He did other things. Ones adults aren't supposed to do to kids. Well, really no one is supposed to do to kids. I think you get it, right? Okay. Yeah. That fucking sucks for him, blah blah. This kid's life was shit. His parents were also pretty rich, so this kid also got kidnapped a few times for money. Bad things happen to kids who get kidnapped. Bad, bad things. But not like the things his dad did to him. Just mean stuff. And it happened so much, even going for a walk was fucking dangerous. Too bad this kid's parents really didn't give a shit. So, this kid started to stay inside and study. Basically, everything. He became a self-made genius who had a natural knack for making cool stuff. So he made lots of cool stuff. By himself. But he thought they were cool."
"Then, one day, the kid's mom died. The kid cried a fair bit, but didn't really know his mom like most kids did. His dad only ignored him from now on, the kid had grown up a lot and he wasn't interesting enough anymore. So the kid still studied and built all sorts of shit. And when his dad died, this guy- let's call him 'Mr. O'- came to take care of him. And he did so with gusto. Almost as much as the kid's dad used to. You get that one too, right? Alright. So, this kid was fucked up as hell by now. He started hurting himself to make everything seem better. And it worked. This kid also became less interesting to Mr. O now that he was scarred up. Apparently scars aren't pretty to many people. Well, he got good at hiding them eventually. Fun times. Now this kid had his dad's company to run, no goals at all in life, and he landed himself in the hospital a good few times. From hurting himself. He also didn't like himself a lot. The kid got kind of tired of being alive. So he started fucking anything that moved and drinking his troubles away, and doing whatever the hell the board told him to do. Mostly just design stuff and stay out of too many magazines. Easy enough. Until the kid got kidnapped a final time."
"He got kidnapped in another country. Which was a big fucking mistake. His best friend couldn't protect him, and some very bad people got ahold of him. They showed him how people were using what he designed, and asked him very nicely to make them something bigger and better. He agreed and was thrown in a cave with another guy who built cool stuff. Except at night, the guards decided he was prettier than the other dude, and they liked pretty men. At this point, the kid wasn't really new to the concept of guys with guys, so he thought he could weather it out. Until they made what his father and Mr. O did look like child's play. No pun intended. It was a living hell and the kid probably would have died from some horrific disease or pregnancy if he had ovaries. Thankfully he didn't. At least whatever Nordic god assigns fate didn't fuck him over that bad. I'll have to ask Thor who to thank. Anyway. Finally the kid built something bigger and better and kicked their asses to hell with it. Then the other guy died. The kid barely got away to where his best friend found him. His best friend took him back to where he came from, and everybody lived happily ever after- except this kid."
"He knew what people were doing with the cool stuff he made, and it wasn't what he made the cool stuff for. So he set that straight, then rebuilt the bigger and better thing and made himself into someone else for part of the time. He became a superhero. He did even cooler stuff and still made cool stuff, and he tried to right what he wronged. After a while, the scale of wrong and right were balanced, and then they slowly tipped for the better. But he was still a fucked up kid. A really fucked up kid. So he drank himself into oblivion when he wasn't making or doing cool stuff, and realized he still didn't have much of a reason to live. Then he started doing stupid stuff with the hopes it might do the job for him. That was, until he made some awesome friends and saved the world and got a super hot boyfriend. Then he still couldn't shake the nightmares or the guilt or the drink. So what he had made it worse, really, because this kid doesn't deserve it. This kid is so fucked up, emotionally, physically, fucking everything was wrong with him."
"So. Yeah. Now comes your part, Brucie over there knows who this kid is. He found out when this kid 'disappeared' for a few weeks and he caught him strolling out of a hospital with a suicide risk bracelet on. The kid promised to tell him so as long as Banner never told anyone. And he didn't, which the kid appreciates, by the way. Now. Story time is over, sorry. Your turn, Steve. Do we play Guess Who or do I tell you?"
^^^
Steve was shaking so hard Tony could feel himself shaking. Tony felt Steve's wide hands fisted against his back, and he could feel the huff of Steve's breath in his hair, but still Steve said nothing. Bruce was rocking back and forth on his heels, Tony noted, and rather green-faced. Amazing how ten minutes worth of talking can render a room of fully-grown men speechless. Carefully, he let his hand rest on Steve's back, then wondered when in his story Steve had started the awesome bear hug of pity. Taking note of Banner's quick footsteps, a measured voice clipped across the room, "I'm leaving. The big guy is awake. Not your fault, Tony. Steve, stop smothering him and talk." After the door hissed back- Tony made a mental note to have the glass replaced- Steve choked a little and started stroking Tony's back. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. "So that's why... why... No fondue? And leaving in the middle of the night? And always baggy clothing?" Tony tensed up as Steve began a constant stream of babble mixed with choked back sobs, "Can I see your scars? Not now, just one day, when you're ready. And it's okay if you want to tell me details. I can take it. Tony, God, I love you so much. Okay? I love you. I'm so sorry. You aren't-" Tony grabbed Steve by his soft golden hair- no really, Tony had to check his shampoo later- and kissed him.
Steve was still for a minute, then carefully, like Tony would break, pulled him closer. The Numbers quit altogether, everything was now the slightly sweet taste of Steve's lips, followed by ohmygodyou'rekissingcaptainamerica, until Steve broke the kiss softly. This was a different Outcome. Pepper had run out of the room and ignored his calls for four days after It. "I love you." Tony whispered it quietly, then laughed nervously. "There. We both said it." Steve looked at him with a faraway look, then broke out in a dazzling smile. Tony could lose himself in that smile. "You have really blue eyes," he blurted out, then flinched. Steve tightened his grip on him, "Is that good or bad...?" he asked cautiously, and Tony felt himself lean into Steve's embrace. "No, I uh, I like them. A lot." "Oh. Right." Steve looked absolutely puzzled, but didn't push it. Tony couldn't help himself, he stared into Steve's eyes for what felt like hours, until he realized their noses were brushing again. He blushed furiously and opened his mouth to apologize, when Steve leaned forward and there was that gloriously sweet taste and the Outcome was really really excellent. When they split for a second time, Steve flushed a litte. "So uh, do you still want to share a bed?" he asked shyly, "I mean, we don't have to, I just like having you close..."
Tony rocked back slightly, and pursed his lips. "Steve Rogers, I promise I will remain in your room as long as you want me there." Steve smiled that brilliant smile again, "Even forever?" Tony feels the butterflies in his stomach at the word- Iron Man will never admit he gets butterflies- and kisses Steve again, "Yeah. Even forever." When he pulls back, there's an indescribable emotion in those blue eyes, Tony can't look away. Blue must be the color of everything good, he decides. The Numbers buffer at his brain, trying to pull him back and tell him no, but the Outcome doesn't match the Numbers. It must have changed them. A new variable. That was fun. New variables could be nice. "Tony." Steve's voice snapped him back at once. "Sorry, sorry," Tony found himself overly apologetic, and still staring into Steve's eyes. Blue was nice. "No, I meant, uh, I can't feel my leg." "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Tony flipped himself up and awkwardly stood beside Steve. He'd made Captain America's leg numb. Today was one hell of a fucked up mess.
His tablet pinged across the table. Glad for the excuse to busy himself, Tony snatched it up and rapid-fired his fingers across it's surface, feeling the Captain's gaze on his taunt back. JARVIS pinged him. Why? What couldn't the AI just say out- Oh. That was new. Tony snuck a look back at Steve, who was not so subtly trying to shift positions. Steve had carried Tony's weight on far less than his entire leg. Tony knew better than that. Damn baby blue eyes. Dummy rolled silently across the floor, handing Tony a box of something that Tony was fairly sure he knew the contents of. "You can sure be quiet when you want, you know that don't you?" Tony murmured. Steve perked up, watching the exchange. "Hey, Steve, I'm kind of tired. Were there any good movies on TV earlier?" Tony congratulated himself on being so sneaky, until Steve gave him a funny look. "You have a TV down here, you know..." "Well, yeah," Tony fumbled for a minute. "I'm cold." Steve at least understood their hint for cuddling now, and Tony blushed furiously. "Your muscles are pretty tense, I'll work on your neck while you look for something good," Steve offered and Tony smiled, holding out his free hand.
"So what did Dummy give you?" Steve asked as he and Tony reached the door to Steve's- no, their, bedroom. "JARVIS, no lights please." Steve gave him another questioning look. "Well, maybe 25 percent." Smiling slightly to himself, Tony almost forgot the question until Steve tugged it from his hands. "Hey!" Tony yelped, not thinking twice about trying to wrestle it back. That was, until Steve simply wrapped an arm around his waist with an amused look. Huffing, Tony struggled to get at the small box, his cheeks bright red in what Steve mistook to be frustration. "What's so important you have it in a box?" Steve asked again, working at the edge with one finger. Tony gave a squeak of indignation and started poking Steve. If all else failed try tickling him, Tasha had once advised. Which, brilliantly enough, didn't work. Damn serum. When Steve tipped the box upside down, Tony turned his back away and curled into himself as much as possible. There was exactly a 27 second pause, and Steve simply said "Oh." "Yeah. Oh." Tony echoed darkly.
Steve released Tony from his waist hold and Tony scrunched himself into a pillow. "Tony," Steve whispered softly, "You know you don't have to. I didn't think you would... Notice. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Tony analyzed that sentence and concluded he liked being called sweetheart by Steve. Not many people got to be Captain America's sweetheart. Then the rest of the sentence hit Tony and he jumped. "No! Steve, no, I didn't, it wasn't me, I uh, I had JARVIS programmed to let me know if, you know, you wanted to, because, uh, I do." Steve was wearing the most deadpanned expression Tony had ever seen. "But... but..." "No, I mean, I want to, but I don't unless you do. It's okay, it's okay? I uh, you have nice eyes." Tony finished lamely, feeling his inner playboy cringing in defeat. At least the genius billionaire philanthropist part was intact. Steve inched across the bed slowly, his eyes locked on Tony's. "Hey," he whispered softly, "Tony, do you want to?" Steve's eyes glittered about twenty thousand times too much love for Tony to physically handle. The Numbers weren't important now.
Instead of answering, Tony found himself gasping for air as he kissed Steve, hands twined in that wonderful blonde hair, mumbling between kisses, "Yes, I love you, please, I really love you, I trust you." When the last phrase came out, Steve sucked in a breath like he was drowning and rolled Tony on his back. "Tony Stark, I love you too. I promise, we will stop whenever you say, okay?" Tony felt his eyes prickle, and tried to control his breathing. He refused to cry his way through his first time with Steve. Maybe his second. Suddenly there was a hand on his hip and he found a strange ache for it to be closer. "Please," he breathed, meeting the other man's eyes. Inch by painful inch the hand slid up until it rested on the flat planes of his stomach. Worry tinged Steve's eyes, but Tony took a deep breath and wiggled out of his shirt. He refused to look down, but Steve carefully let his eyes slide across Tony's torso. Watching and waiting for the inevitable, Tony found no trace of disgust or pity. Instead, he found himself out of breath as lips softly touched the scars spreading from the arc reactor, down his ribs, the lightest touch of a tongue upon the burns, the rigid lines, the snaking white marks.
Steve's gentle worship stopped around his stomach, and suddenly Tony felt those lips upon his clavicle, accompanied by a soft sweep of a tongue. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a strangled sound to his embarrasment. Steve's lips quirked in his small smile against Tony's neck, and again the tongue swept across his pulse point. Tony wound his helplessly flailing hands into Steve's warmer ones, leaning up to kiss Steve again. Slowly and ever so quietly, Steve shifted his body weight across Tony, pausing to check for any signs of wariness. With a mild sigh, Tony wrapped one leg around Steve's waist, earning a surprised noise that was lost in their kiss. After several minutes of languid kisses, Tony impatiently shoved at Steve's pants, getting his point across with several unchaste pulls of Steve's tongue. After another surprised huff, Steve gave in and slipped off his sweats. That's when Tony learned Captain America went commando. And for reasons not missed by the other man, after all, he was a genius. After a moment of unabashed staring on Tony's end, Steve shifted and slid one finger under the band of Tony's pants.
Not missing the hint, Tony shredded his clothes as well and wrapped his leg back around the other man's waist. Steve buried an obscene moan in Tony's shoulder, arms shivering at the contact. Tony smirked and ground up, earning another less-muffled moan and a great deal of wonderful friction. Feeling his pupils dilate even more, Tony licked his lips hungrily, drawing a rather musical gasp from Steve. Grabbing JARVIS' present from it's forgotten spot on the bed, Tony found his hand was shaking. Steve watched Tony for a moment, then voiced his curiousity. "So... Why exactly do we need that again?" Tony grinned wickedly, turning his smouldering eyes on Steve to elicit that beautiful gasp again. "Just watch." he commanded, his lips twitching again as Steve's cock swelled at the order. Slicking two fingers up quickly, Tony felt Steve's eyes following his hand back and how his jaw dropped when Tony started fucking himself on his fingers. "I, I- Tony, Christ-" Steve stammered, pressing his palm to his throbbing dick.
Tony felt his back arch and didn't even bother restraining his moans, working himself open and putting on quite the show. Watching Steve come undone before even touching Tony could be very addictive. Before long, Tony felt Steve pushing him down and the heavy breaths against his neck. "Tony, are you- fuck- are you positive? Just say it and we'll-" Steve lost his ability to speak as Tony sank down, whining softly as the pressure of Steve filled him. After digging his fingers into his boyfriend's arm, Tony choked out, "God, Steve, you're sofuckingbigsweetjesus-" Tony resorted to gritting his teeth to hold back the moan when Steve slowly rolled his hips. After several more of the agonizingly slow movements, Tony was sobbing in pleasure. "Baby please, just a little faster, I swear to god I'll even be nicer to Clint, oh Christ just fuck me please Steve," At the sound of his name, Steve snapped his hips into Tony's, causing the smaller man to arch his back, eyes wide. Continuing at this newfound pace, Steve found himself chanting Tony's name as their hips met in the most delicious angle.
Tony felt Steve's hips stutter once, twice, then the most incredible heat had the famous playboy crying out his boyfriend's name until the world went star-spangled red, white, and blue.
^^^
Tony slowly opened his eyes to a room flooded with light. Then several things happened at once. Crystal blue, worry-filled eyes met his, his ass started hurting like a bitch, and Natasha walked in the door. "Well, hello Captain America's ass. I assume Tony bottomed. Damn. I owe Bruce bigtime." Tony burst into uncontrolled giggles as Steve ripped the sheets over his head, flushing bright pink. "Tasha!" Tony laughed even harder at his boyfriend's indignant squeak. "Right. Leaving." The door clicked shut and Tony rolled over to face Steve, still giggling in mad spurts. Steve blushed furiously, "Tony! That isn't funny! Does the whole team know, that, you know..." "Fondue?" Tony offered up before dissolving into laughter again. Steve starting laughing against his will, and soon the two were cuddled together in the middle of their bed. That was nice.
Tony turned to look at Steve again, resisting the urge to wrap himself up in Steve's warm body again. A serious Captain America stared back at him. "I hurt you." Tony sighed softly, "No, baby. You did not hurt me." The Captain America face slid off, and then there was an insecure Steve before Tony. "Hey. I still love you." "I love you too. And your giant dick." Steve blushed again, struggling for words. Tony chuckled and pressed his lips carefully to Steve's. "Shower with me?" That earned a startled look from Steve, and Tony hastily rectified, "Just a shower, if that's what you want." "I like the color of your eyes." Tony froze, then smiled, his first honest smile in... Well a long time. "I like yours too." "So you mentioned."
JARVIS chimed in, "Sir, I do believe you have a playlist dedicated to Mister Roger's eyes. Should I set the shower temperature for you?" Steve stared across the bed until Tony started laughing.