Archive of Our Own ^beta

Steve ran as fast as his legs would move him, simultaneously focusing on the rhythm of his feet on the pavement and the battle he was about to jump into. It didn’t matter that it was only A.I.M. and that this was the perfect example of a low-stakes fight, he still wasn’t going to let down his guard. And now that Iron Man had stepped down as Chairman of the Avengers, it was on Steve to lead them in his stead and he didn’t have any room to fail them. So, instead of joking with the rest of the team over the comms, Steve kept his mind on his feet and his strategies.

It was his first time fighting with the Avengers since Sharon’s death and while a part of him was happy to be thrust into the middle of a battle, the rest of him was felt guilty he was here at all. The thought was easier to avoid when he threw the shield and it hit its target with a satisfying crunch before it came right back to his hand.

Maybe this was his problem. It was too easy to forget his life as Steve Rogers when he was fighting as Captain America, and the fighting never ended.

That thought distracted him enough that he felt the shock of something small and fast hitting his shield before he saw it. “Focus, Rogers,” he said to himself, barely audible to even his own ears. He didn’t miss the next projectile being thrown at him and knocked it away without effort. They were outside a plasma donation center on the Upper East Side and it seemed like A.I.M. had spared no expense targeting just a lowly storefront. Dozens of A.I.M.’s goons were standing guard with weapons Steve neither recognized nor wanted to come into contact with. He didn’t want to know why they needed enough blood or plasma to hold up such a small place and not, per se, a hospital.

That was probably why the Avengers were called in. On the surface this seemed like a routine operation, something below their expertise. Then he noticed that A.I.M. had, at the very least, put their more experienced goons in the tell-tale bee-keeper outfits. Fighting three at once was as challenging at fighting seven normally was. They were coordinating their attacks, something Steve wasn’t expecting, but by the third time one of them tried to grab him while the other went for a punch, he was more than ready to drop kick them across the street.

“CAP!” someone called as he took a few deep breaths to see what was going on around him. The voice was yelling in his ear through the comm, but he could track it to Jan, hovering in his peripheral vision. “They’re getting away!”

For less than a moment Steve wanted to protest that they clearly weren’t because he was still fighting off wave after wave of them, but it clicked into place one second later when he saw the rope dropping just outside the entrance of the clinic. Even though the team had flyers, he was the closest one, and he leaped towards the rope with as much grace as he could manage given how quickly he had to pivot from the skirmish. One of the minions had already jumped onto the rope by the time it was in his hands, but he managed a firm hold. Climbing up was difficult—rope climbs always were—but even with the wind and the helicopter above trying to shake him off, he had been prepared for this. He promised himself to thank Mr. Stark and his training machines later for making sure of that.

“Got you!” Steve shouted when his hand closed over the yellow ankle of the man above him. He was already half in the helicopter and Steve used that momentum to pull himself up. The wind and the helicopter blades were ringing in his ears and he couldn’t hear a word anyone was saying. He didn’t need to. One of them was taking out a small glass vial filled with blood and trying to put it in a metal briefcase and as soon as Steve saw that, he knew nothing good would come from A.I.M having that vial and succeeding in their mission.

He reached for it, but bright pain radiated from his fingers when the top of the suitcase shut right on them. Without taking even a millisecond to grit through the feeling, he reeled around to kick the goon, all the while keeping his hand where it was in order to maintain the leverage he had. The kick was weak, given the difficult angle, but it did the trick and the other person staggered back. He used that moment to pocket the vial with his good hand, but the moment was just enough for the thug to take out a trigger mechanism of some sort and say something dramatic that Steve couldn’t hear above the blades of the helicopter. He did, however, know what was about to happen just soon enough before it did that he could take a running leap out into the free air before everything behind him was force and heat. There wasn’t much left to think about—Steve was falling to the ground fast—so he pulled out the shield and contorted himself so that it would hit pavement first. He hoped that the shield’s vibranium alloy would absorb enough of the shock to keep both the vial and himself from breaking.

He was braced for impact when strong arms wrapped around his waist and broke the momentum of his fall. It took some effort to twist his head and confirm his savior was a friend, but instead of seeing Sam or Ms. Marvel, he saw blue eyes behind a gold faceplate that were inches from his own. Everything—the fight, the fall, seeing ol’ Shellhead—rendered him speechless as Iron Man softly set him down on pavement.

“Bet’cha wish those wings of yours really worked,” Iron Man said and flicked one of the tiny wings attached to Steve’s cowl for emphasis.

A.I.M. had clearly given up the fight after the helicopter’s explosion, and the rest of the Avengers were arresting any thugs who hadn’t run away. Given the lack of urgency to respond, Steve let himself stand there and really feel the relief of finally getting to stand next to Iron Man again. “Are you saying you have a problem with my wings?” Steve replied with mock hurt as he cradled one of them delicately with one hand and then hissed when he remembered his broken fingers.

“My only problem with them is that they can’t save your life. That was quite a tumble you were about to take.” The voice modulator meant that Steve had to listen to what Iron Man said instead of his tone, but it was impossible not to hear the years of affection and concern in his words. Steve felt a pang of remorse for making him worry.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Only because I was here to catch you. What about next time?”

“Then you better be here to catch me.” Steve knew it was a cavalier thing to say, it was just that Iron Man had a way of making him verbalize whatever was on his mind. “Does this mean you’re returning to the Avengers?” he asked and made no effort to dampen the hope in his voice.

“Now that this business with the Carnelian ambassador has died down, I think it’s time I get back to work.” His demeanor was energized but the confidence in Iron Man’s words ebbed away as he continued. “But I’d understand if you’d want to keep on as Chairman, Cap.”

“I can’t think of anyone who’d be better at the job than you,” he said and held out his uninjured hand to shake Iron Man’s. “Welcome back, Shellhead.”

Iron Man put his gauntleted hand in his and gave one firm shake. “I’m happy to be back, Winghead.”

They walked in a comfortable silence to where Sam and Ms. Marvel were rounding up any remaining thugs until the police arrived. Iron Man may have been the invincible one, but now that he was here, Steve knew he could accomplish whatever he set his mind to. “Iron Man, I’ve decided to move,” he said, almost giddy with excitement to share the news with his friend.

There was about pause—just a second too long for Steve’s total comfort—between them, but then it was over, and Iron Man replied, “I’m so sorry to hear about Sharon. If there’s anything you need, just ask.”

Somehow in the battle and the hubbub that followed, Steve had forgotten about Sharon. His excitement waned. “I know.” And he did. “I think what I need now is a change. It was actually you who gave me the idea. I think it’s time I finally try and find my new life.”

Iron Man was quiet, and Steve wasn’t sure Iron Man remembered that conversation or if it had even meant to him what it had meant to Steve, but when he placed a gauntleted hand on his shoulder, Steve felt the comfort and support he had been missing from his friend. “I wish you all the luck I can. No one deserves it more than you.” Steve heard nothing but sincerity through Iron Man’s voice modulator and he wasn’t sure how to reply to something like that. It was a relief when Iron Man spoke again because it saved him trying to verbalize how thankful he was for his friend and how glad he was that they could fight on the same team again. “And as the newly-instated Avengers' chairman, I order you to not be a stranger.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he said, because I couldn’t if I tried might have been too much for their conversation.

Iron Man was patting him on the back now, and all the intensity of their earlier conversation morphed into comfortable banter. “We should make it work like that.”

Steve smiled to himself. “I’m sure you’d have to work on convincing the rest of the team, but—if anyone could—it’s you. And it’s not like I’ll be leaving the Avengers, you’ll see me around.”

“You know, if you need a break from the team, we can make that work. It won’t be the same, but we’ll do.”

Steve appreciated the sentiment even though he had no intention of taking Iron Man up on the offer. “You won’t have to. I’m not going far, it’s just a short ride on the R train.” He fought the impulse to ask Iron Man to visit him. Steve was used to limitations that came with being friends with an armored bodyguard.

Iron Man laughed, and Steve liked how his laughs always sounded more human than everything else he said behind the voice modulator. “Now that’s an image I want to see—Captain America riding the subway.”

“Believe it or not, I do it all the time.” Iron Man laughed again and for the first time in weeks, Steve felt like everything was going to be okay. “You know what? Next time I’ll send you a picture.”

“Has the city approved the building permit?” Tony asked as he leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie.

“It looks like sometime next week,” one of his lawyers answered.

“What’s the hold up? The mayor personally assured me we could start construction last month.” He was more bored than annoyed. This whole process was taking just as long as everyone had assured him it would, and it was his fault for thinking his project would be the exception. He was eager to begin the next phase of his company.

“It seems like the business with the Carnelian ambassador delayed things,” said another one of his lawyers.

“We sorted that out,” Tony said, even though he knew saying it wouldn’t make it any truer. Legally, yes, he was no longer liable for his armor killing the ambassador while being remotely controlled. But public perception wasn’t interested in that detail and Tony couldn’t hold that against anyone. He certainly hadn’t forgiven himself yet. “Never mind. You said next week? I can work with that. It’s probably time to tell the world about SI’s new Brooklyn office.” Tony was excited for this part—this was a pet project of his, a chance to build something new with his company. He wanted to throw himself into this whole-heartedly and take his mind off all his recent problems.

“The PR department is ready to go. We just need your approval, Mr. Stark.”

“Consider it approved. What’s the first step? Do we already have a big speech together, or do I have to write something?” Tony kind of wished he could do it himself. He had a lot of ideas about the future of SI that he wanted to put on paper.

His question was met with unexpected silence.

“What’s the problem?” he asked when it became clear there was a problem.

Finally, one of the younger ones opened their mouth. “With everything that’s happened with your bodyguard, the general consensus was to de-emphasize your role. Play up our other investors, as well as the school and the start-up incubator.”

Tony willed himself calm. “That’s smart. Please keep me in the loop on that.” He stood up and surveyed every employee around the table. This was it, the culmination of years of hard work, and not just his own. He wasn’t going to let his ego get in the way of that. “Every one of you should be proud of what you did to make this project happen. This is a new chapter for SI. A couple of years ago I made a pledge to stop building weapons, and I believe we’ve continued to uphold that pledge. But now? Now, we go even further. Stark International’s Brooklyn office, or the Starkplex as I’m calling it,” he added as an aside before continuing, “will be a place where the ideas of tomorrow are born. Where we see the future, and then bring it to the people. This office won’t just be the heart of our new initiative to get current Stark technology in the hands of every person on the globe, it will be where we develop life-saving breakthroughs we can now only imagine. It will be where we teach tomorrow’s leaders to code and build and bring about change. I’m honored to say this is my legacy, and thankful to have worked with all of you to make it happen.”

Everyone cheered. Tony hadn’t been prepared to give this sort of speech, but he meant every word and he hoped all of them understood that. “I think this calls for a drink!” someone was yelling and then there were heavy glasses of whiskey being passed around the table before Tony had any idea it was happening.

His mood shifted as soon as he picked up the glass and instead of the pride and happiness he had been feeling before, his focus shifted to how fucking tired he was, and god he couldn’t even be there to promote his pet project. How long had it been since he had had a drink? A few weeks? Surly that was enough to prove he didn’t have a big problem. He could manage it. He could handle it. And how nice would it be to drink whiskey again? This must have been some of his personal stash that hadn’t been removed from the conference room yet and god, how he wanted it. Wanted to taste it, wanted to feel the gentle burn of liquor as it went down his throat, wanted to just not feel anything for a while. “Toast?” someone asked, and Tony honestly didn’t know who it was, his attention was so focused on the glass in his hand.

He lifted the glass up and watched as the room followed him. “To the future!” he said and made sure to be loud enough they could hear him in the hallway. “May we do it justice.” Every single person around the table looked like they would follow him to the end of the earth and Tony realized he couldn’t take a drink. He had just managed to wrestle his company back from SHIELD and he owed this people better than this. So, he lifted his glass just a little more, signaling the end of his toast, and then set it back down on the table as most of his employees finished.

That's when he saw a notification light going off on his Iron Man phone.

Photo from Steve Rogers

Tony smiled and opened the message. Steve was dressed like a civilian and standing on the subway, though Tony could see his portfolio bag and the blue of the uniform under the top of his shirt. That had to have been on purpose, Tony mused. He must have had to ask someone else to take it for him, because the angle was off for a selfie.

I had to say I was a tourist.

Tony smiled. Steve jumped from roofs and helicopters and stared down some of the scariest villains the world had even known. And now he was having some fun with his secret identity.

What a man.

Steve thought he was texting only Iron Man, so Tony responded as such. He typed out, what if you see them again?

Steve responded almost instantly. I’ll tell them I decided to stay.

Tony supposed that was somewhat true. The man was a lifetime New Yorker, but though he belonged in the New York from before, he had made this one his own. It was that train of thought that led to Tony typing out I’m glad you stayed.

As soon as he clicked send he realized his intention was not as clear as he would have hoped, and he waited, as his heart rate elevated, for Steve to respond. But turned out he didn’t have to be afraid of anything, because he read I’m glad I stayed too, Shellhead.

He could do this. He could lead the Avengers and run Stark International and stay sober. He could save the world and build his legacy and keep himself together.

There was too much to lose if he didn’t.

Dear Iron Man,

I know you’ll just tell me I’m old-fashioned, but I wanted to write you a letter. (Well, technically it’s an e-mail because I wasn’t sure where to send you a letter.)

I wanted to thank you again for giving me the idea to start over and I thought you might want to hear about how I was adapting to my new life. (And yes, I know I just saw you yesterday, but you seemed in such a hurry to get out of the team meeting, I didn’t want to weigh you down with anything else.)

Steve winced as his healing fingers twinged and he paused typing to look out of the window onto the street below. He had to shake the hair out of his eyes to see—normally this was the point he would have gotten it cut, but he was kind of liking it long. It felt like a break from the past, and right now, he needed that. It was strange, but after only a few weeks it had felt like he had moved on and his new apartment already felt like home. He was currently sitting at his favorite part of the studio, the wide desk underneath the skylight he was currently using as a workspace. It afforded him natural light and great views of the Brooklyn Bridge.

It had taken him a few days to decide whether he should write Iron Man, but it had been some time since he had been able to sit down and talk to him, and something about that needed to change. He wasn’t spending as much time at the mansion that he used to, and this meant he kept missing those serendipitous late-night moments when he would have run into his friend and they would have stayed up into the morning, just talking. Letters might not be the same as spontaneous hallway conversations, but Steve liked the idea enough that it compensated.

I met many of my neighbors, and have found them to be fast friends. They are welcoming and good people. It’s nice to be spending so much time around real people again. Not that you and the other Avengers aren’t ‘real people’, but it’s different when you’re a superhero.

I think the change of scenery is helping my art, also. I haven’t found a lot of work, but I’m practicing more often and trying to incorporate all the new people and things.

Voices began to radiate in from the hallway and Steve stopped typing to listen.

“We’ll have to move!” said an agitated voice Steve didn’t recognize.

“Anna’s not going to raise the rent,” Mark, his neighbor, responded.

“It might not be up to her.” That voice belonged to his new friend Josh.

“There are laws to protect us from things like this, aren’t there?”

“Not really, actually…”

After a few moments it became clear that whatever they were talking about impacted the apartment complex as a whole and that none of the people talking were going to actually say what they were so concerned about, so he opened the door to join the conversation. “What’s going on?”

Everyone in the hallway turned to look at him and someone answered, “Stark International just announced a new office complex at that old vacant warehouse by the river.”

“That’s great!” Steve responded without second thought. Mr. Stark had never said anything, but it sounded like a huge project, even for him.

“No, it’s not,” Josh began to explain. “Brooklyn Heights is about to become the most happening place in the city. We’re talking thousands of high-paying tech jobs. And all of those employees are going to have to live somewhere.”

Steve didn’t see the problem. “So, they’ll live here.”

“And where will we live when they drive our rents up?”

There wasn’t a good response Steve could give to that question.

He thought back to that moment he returned to the Lower East Side after he woke up and realized it had completely changed. 

His neighbors didn’t wait for his response to keep talking. “I heard the Coney Island Cruisers have been intimidating people there in order to get them to move out.”

“The Cruisers?”

“They’re a new street gang,” Steve said, having recently learned first-hand. They had been harassing locals in order to push them out of their homes, or they had been before Captain America had dealt with them.

“They stole their whole schtick from The Warriors.”

Everyone was quiet for a second before someone spoke up and said, “it’s not like we have a lot of time to raise a fuss. I heard construction starts next week.”

“Of course. Only someone as powerful as Tony Stark could get the permits in order this fast.”

Josh added, as an aside, “I’m not sure why they are letting that man build anything after Iron Man incinerated that Carnelian guy.”

Steve rounded on his foot and faced Josh directly. “Iron Man was proven innocent!” he said, louder and with more force than he intended. Josh looked surprised and the rest of the hallway went silent. Steve took a deep breath, and tried to slouch a little in order to seem smaller, if that was even possible. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, he always seemed to forget that he could be intimidating even when he wasn’t trying to be. “And I believe him.”

“Sounds like you’re a big fan,” said another neighbor whose name Steve didn’t know.

The hallway got a little hotter and Steve tried to suppress the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Iron Man is my favorite,” he said, trying to sound casual and instead coming off scared. “Also, Tony Stark not only funds the Avengers out of the goodness of his heart, he contributes millions every year to charity,” he added hastily in an attempt to deflect attention from his admission. It was true—Iron Man was his favorite—but saying it aloud made it sound more incriminating than it normally did in his head. He had been trying to tell himself that his tiny crush on the man was entirely platonic, but it was getting harder and harder to indulge in that little delusion. Not when every time he talked to the guy he practically swooned.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Just because he gives money to charity doesn’t mean he understands what it’s like to be us. The man is the definition of—”

Steve didn’t let him finish describing what Tony exactly was. “Let me talk to him,” he declared, having made the decision to get involved at that moment. This was his new home, and the people he lived with were part of that. If they were worried this would hurt them, then he could do something to defend them.

“How do you propose to do that?”

“I know him,” Steve said simply. It was true, of course, even if he wasn’t sure he knew Mr. Stark well enough to challenge his business decisions. The man had been a constant presence since Steve had woken up, but he was never around enough to become more than a presence. Still, he funded the Avengers and had made it clear that Steve could come to him whenever he needed him.

“Just how does Steve Rogers, a former captain in the Army and commercial artist, come to know a billionaire like Tony Stark?” one of them asked, and she sounded genuinely curious, like she knew there was a good story there.

How to respond to that? It was times like these that maintaining a secret identity was exhausting. “He’s been an… umm… patron,” Steve eventually decided on, then added, “Of my work.”

She gave Steve a strange look. “Huh, I didn’t expect that. Can’t say the guy has bad taste.” And punctuated the statement by giving Steve a full once over.

Steve was offended by the idea of what she was implying, and his face heated in response. “No, not that sort of… patron. I meant of my art.” He hadn’t wanted to explicitly lie, but in this situation, he had no choice. They wouldn’t take him seriously if they thought he was just going to leverage some quid-pro-quo sexual relationship.

Josh looked like he could care less about how Steve knew the man. “That would be great. Even if it means we could just talk to him, it would really help.”

“I could do that,” Steve said, confident. Tony Stark was a reasonable guy. He would be happy to talk to them. And maybe all that needed to happen was a conversation. He spent so much of his life fighting monsters and criminals that he could forget that a small person-to-person interaction could all that was needed to fix things. “Just give me a few days.”

They seemed assured and walked away, so Steve returned to his studio and his email to Iron Man.

I’m finding a new purpose here, too. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this energized to do something that wasn’t saving the world. I think this is what you meant when you told me to find a new life.

Thanks for indulging an old man, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours,

Steve

Dear Cap, Tony began to type and looked once more at Steve’s email. It was such a sweet gesture that Tony was scared to respond and ruin it, but if the message lingered any longer in his inbox he’d ruin in some other way.

Thanks for the email. I can’t remember the last time someone sent me one just to talk.

You’re right, it is old-fashioned, but it’s the sort of old-fashioned thing I like about you. Tony stopped typing and reread the sentence just to make sure it sounded like something Iron Man would say aloud. His brain was buzzing with anxiety. Sharp thoughts were bouncing around in his mind and he ached to sand off their edges with a drink.

Tony had been under the impression that every day he stayed sober would feel like a victory and that by now the sum of all those victories would be the momentum he needed to keep going, but it wasn’t like that at all. If anything, it felt like day one had been the peak of his willpower and everyday chipped away at his desire to keep it together. He stared wistfully at the spot where his liquor cabinet had been and thanked his foresight that it had already been removed.

I’m beyond delighted to know you’re adjusting well to your new neighborhood. And I don’t believe your art needs any improvement, but I hope you’ll show me some of the new pieces anyway.

He paused and thought more. Iron Man would certainly say that sentence, but looking at it written down made it sound like he was trying too hard. Iron Man was so sincere and earnest and for a brief moment he considered just putting the armor on to make it easier to just be Iron Man while he wrote.

The telephone on his desk beeped and he was jarred out of that thought. “Tony, you have a visitor,” Mrs. Arbogast said.

“Who is it?” Tony called out the door instead of saying over the intercom.

He was answered by Steve, who ducked his head into the office and smiled. “It’s me.”

Mrs. Arbogast stood behind him. “He knew the special codeword.” She said it like it was possible Steve was a criminal and was prepared to call security.

Tony allayed her concern by crossing the room and putting both hands on his shoulders like he was taking in a long-lost friend he hadn’t seen in years. “Steve!”

That made Steve chuckle. “Sorry to barge in like this.” He looked around. “Wow, this is your office? It’s nice. Different than the mansion, but it suits you well.”

Tony could feel Mrs. Arbogast eyes boring in on him after that statement and wondered if it was worth the effort to convince her they hadn’t slept together. He instead chose to turn to her and say, “Steve’s a friend.” That was her cue to leave and she knew it.

“So, what can I do for you, Steve?” Tony asked and motioned for Steve to sit on one of the angular white modern chairs in the middle of the office while Tony sat across from him on the couch. “If it’s about the Avengers, you know you can always just talk to Iron Man. He can pass on anything you need me to know.”

“Actually, it’s you I want to talk to, for entirely non-Avengers related business.” Steve paused and looked around the room. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, I know you’re a very busy man. I just wasn’t sure how else to get a hold of you, and well… I wanted to talk to you face to face.”

Tony smiled. This was just like Steve—considerate, polite, and direct. “You are welcome to barge in on me anytime. I’m never too busy for you.” He found he could say it in complete sincerity.

“Well, Mr. Stark—”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Please call me Tony.”

“Well, Tony—I’m not sure if Iron Man told you, but I recently moved.”

“He mentioned it in passing. Are you settling in alright?” Tony asked like he hadn’t been trying to respond to Steve’s email all afternoon.

“I’m very happy, thanks for asking.” Steve stopped, took a deep breath, and looked Tony right in the eye. “I wanted to speak to you about the new Stark offices you’re building in Brooklyn. Some of my neighbors have concerns about the impact the development will have on the neighborhood.”

For a second Tony was speechless. This was not what he was expecting. “Your neighbors?” he finally asked, not sure how else to respond to that.

“Yes, I live a few blocks from the new ‘Starkplex’,” Steve said, putting the title in finger-quotes.

“Oh. You do,” Tony responded. How did he not know that? “Well then, I’d like to hear your concerns.”

“My neighbors are concerned that this development will fundamentally change the character of neighborhood. There aren’t a lot of places left in New York that people can afford to live, and rents have been rising even without this.”

Tony took a deep breath. “Are these your neighbor’s concerns, or your own?”

“Both,” Steve said, after taking a minute to consider what Tony was asking. “I moved to Brooklyn Heights for a reason.”

“If rent was a concern, I’d be happy to increase—”

Steve cut him off with a look and Tony realized that probably wasn’t the right thing to suggest. “It reminds me of where I grew up. When I woke up, all of New York was different. And the Lower East Side was… Not the place I grew up. It wasn’t like it was easy there, back then. I’m not being nostalgic. I know things have improved. But I also know there was no way my mom could have raised me there, the way it is now. She wouldn’t be able to afford it. And even if she could—” Steve looked off into the distance and Tony could see his thoughts going back in time. “—it wouldn’t be the same place. All types of people lived there, and now it’s not like that, at all.”

Tony sighed. How do you respond to something like that? “Steve, I assure you that I have taken great care to make sure that this development is a net positive in the community.”

“I know that. I mean… of course you did. I would expect nothing less of you.” Tony had a swift moment of pleasure knowing Steve expected things of him and tried not chase it by considering alternative locations for the new offices. He had worked too long on this to change it last minute just to make Steve happy.

“The building is entirely re-purposing the old factory building— which means limited construction waste. We’ll be putting in new Stark-tech solar panels on the roof, so the entire facility should be carbon neutral.”

Steve shook his head. That wouldn’t be enough. “That isn’t going to make it easier for families to stay in their homes when thousands of Stark employees descend on Brooklyn Heights.”

“Some of those are new jobs, by the way. I’m hiring over seven hundred new people for high-paying positions.”

“But that doesn’t just improve everyone’s life. Not everyone is a computer genius, Tony,” Steve countered, his tone rising.

“Oh, you think I don’t know that?” Tony said without thinking. Steve’s eyes widened, and it took a few seconds for Tony to realize that Steve thought he had called him stupid. It sometimes felt like Steve’s entire existence was to make other people feel inferior, and it was weirdly humbling—but not at all satisfying—to discover there was something that Steve was self-conscious about. “There will be job training programs. We’re partnering with local schools to teach programming and engineering skills,” he added in hopes of defusing the situation.

That must not have worked, because Steve was still staring at him like he’d been slapped. “Are those training programs going to start before or after the evictions begin?”

“It’s a free market, Steve. I can’t control what your landlord does.”

“You keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Something nasty was beginning to seep into Steve’s tone of voice and Tony could feel his own anger rising.

“What about you? Must feel great getting to ride in like some white knight and save the day from the dirty capitalists. You’ve lived there for what? Less than a month?”

Steve stood up and looked imposing as he stared Tony down. “At least what I’m doing what’s right.”

“Steve,” Tony began as he got up to look him right in the eyes. “Don’t come to my office and tell me what is and isn’t right.” This was a good project and Tony was proud of it, even now. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Tony cut him off. “What do you want me to do? I’m going to build the Starkplex whether I get your permission or not.”

“Tony—”

“Leave. Now,” Tony said, no, he seethed, and pointed at the door. Steve gave him a look like Tony was going to regret what he was doing, but he didn’t open his mouth to explain exactly how and instead stomped out the door, which crashed when he shut it harder than it was built to withstand.

Tony stated at that door for a good minute before he finally found the will to move. What the hell just happened?  he thought. How had that gotten out of hand so quick? He reflexively headed towards the liquor cabinet before he remembered that it was empty and instead plopped down on the desk chair and looked at the half-written email he still had to finish and send to Steve.

I’m really glad to hear you’ve found a new cause. I pity anyone who stands in your way.

And that was exactly how he felt.

“CAP! OVER HERE!” Jan shouted and Steve, without looking, threw his shield in her direction. He heard the tell-tale sound of the vibranium against bone and was able to capture it on the ricochet back without a problem. This was the third time this week A.I.M. had targeted a plasma-donation center and the whole fight was beginning to feel very rote. They had already captured the obligatory minion trying to fly away and all that was left was to subdue the few holdouts who were unwilling to surrender peacefully.

Steve surveyed the damage and watched as Hank was successfully tying up the stragglers. The rest of the Avengers were beginning to clean up what they could. The only thing left to do was wait for the authorities to arrive and take the A.I.M. goons off their hands. “Good work, team!” Iron Man called over the shouts of onlookers taking pictures and asking for autographs. “We did that in fifteen minutes. That’s a new record.” Iron Man’s voice dropped, however, when he arrived at Steve’s side. “This was too easy. I think we’ve reached the point where we should do a little preemptive avenging. Hank thinks they are targeting donations from mutants based on samples from what we’ve confiscated. But how exactly they know what is and isn’t mutant plasma or why they are even doing this is beyond me.”

Steve rested a hand on Iron Man’s metal shoulders and hoped it was comforting. “If you’re ok with it, I’d like to take the lead on investigating what’s going on.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that for me,” Iron Man protested, like it was some sort of burden to help a friend out.

“You have your hands full working for Mr. Stark and leading the Avengers. I’d love to help if I could.” Steve could tell Iron Man was even more worn out than normal. It wasn’t as if Iron Man had said anything, but he had seemed tired and less patient since this business with the Carnelian Ambassador. He could only begin to imagine how difficult it would be to live through that.

“If you insist…” Iron Man said, and Steve couldn’t be sure, never could be sure because of the voice modulator, but it seemed there was a smile behind Iron Man’s words. His heart lit up at the thought that he was responsible for that smile. “I’m so glad I have a friend like you, Cap.”

“Me, too, Shellhead. Me, too.” And Steve meant it. Oh boy, he meant it.

“Care for a ride back to the mansion and a change of clothes?” Iron Man asked with his arm outstretched, ready for Steve to grab on. He didn’t have to respond—Iron Man knew him well enough to know how he preferred to travel.

This time wasn’t much different than every time before, but something about it felt different and Steve was beginning to get an inkling why. Holding on tight to Iron Man’s metal torso felt intimate in a way Steve hadn’t noticed until now. Steve had been thinking about Iron Man a lot over the last few weeks, and now that he was this close to the armored Avenger, it felt obvious that Steve had a crush.

The flight was painfully short, and Steve suppressed the desire to goad Iron Man into continuing when he saw the roof of the mansion. It wouldn’t be that hard—he would just make some quip, possibly mask the attempt as flight practice—and they would still be flying.

But Steve had already acknowledged that Iron Man was busy and tired, and it would selfish to ask for that. So, Steve disentangled himself from Iron Man’s grip when they landed and tried not to miss Iron Man’s muscular golden mesh arm around his shoulders. “It’s been a pleasure, Captain.” Iron Man offered him a mock salute before flying off to what Steve could only assume was Stark headquarters. Steve almost felt jealous of Tony Stark, the man who was always Iron Man’s first priority.

While he was able to fight the desire to be jealous, he couldn’t repress the thoughts about how Iron Man could always make him laugh or how strong those golden mesh muscles were. Shame filled him—it had only been a month since Sharon’s death and yet here he was, thinking about another person like he used to think about her. It seemed that the heart could be very resilient, even when one would prefer it not to be. And then there was the whole issue that Steve had no idea what Iron Man even looked like. He was almost positive he was a man, and it had been difficult enough to wake up in the future and accept he could like men. But Steve could only imagine Iron Man’s face, so instead of fantasizing about a flesh-and-blood person, he was imagining being with the armor. The future was open to men being with men, but Steve was pretty sure it hadn’t come around to men being with men who looked like robots.

He had a meeting with the neighborhood group scheduled to begin soon, and throwing himself into stopping the Starkplex would take his mind off his confusing feelings for Iron Man. He changed as quickly as possible and managed to be only a few minutes late to the coffee house where a few of his neighbors had gathered.

They waved him over and Josh wordlessly pulled out a chair for Steve. He had only met some of the people around the table, so he introduced himself, but Josh immediately spoke over him to say, “I told them that you were going to talk to Tony Stark. Any update on that front?”

Steve grimaced. It had only been a few days since he had spoken to Mr. Stark and he wasn’t proud of how the conversation had ended. He hadn’t meant for things to get so heated, so fast, and now that he was sitting here with these people he was supposed to be fighting for, he was disappointed in himself. Diplomacy had never been one of his strengths, but sometimes you didn’t get a choice in the battles you needed to fight. “He was unwilling to reconsider,” Steve confessed and felt the gaze of everyone staring at him.

“So… not good,” said one of the people Steve didn’t know.

“I’m not surprised,” said another. “It was a dumb idea to start with. Why would Tony Stark care about what you think?”

“Are you sure you tried to be your most persuasive?” asked a third and Steve did need to see their eyebrows wiggle suggestively to know what they thought that was. Steve just glared in response. He may not be skilled at diplomacy, but he was even less talented at seduction.

Not that he would have a chance with Mr. Stark.

“So, plan B,” declared Josh and Steve was glad that the conversation was moving forward. “If he’s not going to listen to one person, then maybe he’ll listen to the neighborhood. I’ve got a friend who knows the councilman and I’m sure he’ll care what we have to say if we can gather enough people.”

“My brother works for the Daily Bugle. Maybe some press coverage would help.”

“Last year, when they were talking about extending the subway, they held the meeting at the Adams High School gym. We should organize something there.

“I can bring cookies!” one of the men, a quieter one Steve hadn’t heard from before, said. Everyone looked at him, confused. “Meetings with food attract more people,” he offered in explanation. “It’s, like, scientifically proven.”

“Ok. That’s settled. We need to pick a day and a time and advertise that there is free food.”

“We should talk to the local business owners—”

“—And church groups—”

“—We should split up by block. Go door to door once we have date and a place settled,” Steve said as he began to feel the satisfaction of a plan coming together. “If we get enough people to show up, they won’t be able to ignore us. We’ll need fliers that communicate our concern effectively. I can do that.” Steve figured he had the art background and needed the opportunity to try out design.

“What’s our end-goal?” Josh asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How do we know if we won? And what needs to happen for us to win.”

“If he stops,” said a few of them.

Steve felt shame at the idea that it came down to Mr. Stark, and that he was unable to convince him.

“Are you sure we can’t just try talking to him again?” asked Mark.

That seemed like such an easy answer, but then Steve thought about the way his anger rose right to the surface as he was speaking with him, and he knew with certainty that they would never be able to talk it out. “I just don’t think that’s an option.”

“Maybe we could get him to come to the meeting. Show him all of us, together.”

“That…that might work,” Steve said, but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. For Steve, if one person couldn’t change his mind, then neither could a thousand. He didn’t know Mr. Stark that well, but he had the feeling the man was similar. “I’ll tell him about it. Maybe he’ll be able to come.”

“Yes, I’m sure he’ll take some time out his day to hang out with the unwashed masses,” someone said sarcastically.

Steve’s first instinct was to agree because he was still smarting from their earlier conversation. Something about it had made him just so goddamn angry. But then he wasn’t not going to defend Mr. Stark, even to himself. The man had done so much for the world, and not just for the Avengers. It seemed cruel that he was being reduced to this one thing and for a moment Steve felt a pang of guilt for contributing to it. “I think we should do that. He’s a reasonable guy.” He punctuated the comment with a look at everyone who had expressed disdain for Mr. Stark. “I’ll tell him.”

“Boss, we’re here,” Happy said as he parked the car.

Tony stared out the window at the old brick high school. He’d been dreading this ever since he had received Steve’s call. “Just… give me a minute.” His phone pinged, and he scrolled through it. Even ten minutes late, he was eager for any distraction he could find.

It was a message to Iron Man from… Steve. Tony sighed. It was just his luck. Hey, Shellhead.

Tony stared at the entrance to the high school gym, knowing that Steve was on the other side. Hey back, Winghead, he typed. What’s up?

I’m at a meeting about that project I was telling you about. It just started.

Tony shook his head. That, at least, answered the question if he had arrived beyond fashionably late. He was relieved. You should pay attention ;), he typed.

I can do two things at once. There was a pause after the message where Tony wasn’t sure what to say to that, but Steve added, I kinda wish you were here. It feels like it’s going to be a fight.

Tony stared at the text and willed it to disappear. I wish I was there too. You know I always have your back.

I know :), Steve texted back. Tony banged his head against the car’s headrest.

Having a secret identity normally didn’t feel like this. If Steve knew about everything, would he still text him smiley faces?

He didn’t want to go in. Angry people he could deal with. He’d been justifying this project to investors and board members for years, he could sell it to a neighborhood group gathered in a high school gym. What he didn’t want to do was fight with Steve. Steve wouldn’t be impressed by his razzle dazzle and when Steve drew a line in the sand, he didn’t cross it. Tony would know—he had defended that line more times than he could count.

Steve made him think he could fight forever, and that when you were right, compromise was the same as defeat.

It was a split-second thing, but Tony’s eyes found the old small liquor cabinet he used to keep stocked in the back of the car. It had been three weeks since he had gotten sober, yet it seemed like he still had the same muscle memory. Tony opened the door and began walking to the building before he had a chance to follow that train of thought to its logical conclusion. The truth was, you couldn’t win when you fought Captain America. But Cap would have been proud if he knew, because Tony was going to fight a losing battle anyway.

Tony walked up to a lady manning the sign-in table and gave her a small smile in response to her wide-eyed shock. Silently, he uncapped a green permanent marker and wrote ‘Tony’ on a paper name tag. He stuck it to his casual, but deliberately-chosen shirt, smiled once more at the woman, and turned to the back of the crowd, where he was able to slip silently onto an empty metal folding chair. Everyone was currently attentively listening to a speaker, who, with the help was seemed to be a painstakingly researched photo montage, was passionately speaking about the history of Brooklyn Heights. This meant that it was only the few standing at the front of the gym that saw him at all. Tony tried to keep his composure and not let his heart sink when he saw one of those people was Steve, himself. He knew Steve had seen him, because Steve had a way of looking at you that you felt in your skin even when you were trying to study the floor.

It took ten minutes for someone to politely interrupt the speaker and refocus the conversation. Those were ten minutes in which Tony fidgeted with his phone, checking emails and running through new armor schematics in order to keep his mind distracted. Unfortunately for Tony, his mind could be anxious and productive at the same time. “Mr. Stark,” Tony’s head snapped up when he heard his name coming from someone other than Steve. “Would you like to say something?”

Tony stood up and looked around. There was someone sitting in the corner taking notes and pictures. The press, goddamn it, he thought. The gym was crowded with people who were now getting on their feet in a cacophony of chairs and mutterings to see the great Tony Stark. Steve was still at the front, though Tony did not need to actually see him to know that for sure. He looked anyway and saw that Steve was standing close to a man with a familiar jawline. Tony guessed it was Sam Wilson. He had never actually met him without his falcon get-up, but he had had the opportunity to serve with the man on the Avengers recently and had grown to like Steve’s partner.

“Just that I’m here to listen to your concerns and answer any questions you might have about the Starkplex,” Tony said. He had aimed to stop at that, but as soon as he finished he was compelled to add, “The Starkplex, by the way, is projected to have at least four thousand employees, all of which will be shopping in your stores and eating lunch in your restaurants and drinking coffee in your coffeehouses, and it will do this while having a minimal environmental footprint. The project—”

He was cut off by shouts and a question, “You mean they’ll shop in the Whole Foods and buy coffee at Starbucks. They aren’t going to eat at Marv’s Deli. They aren’t going to shop at Martinez Produce.”

Tony blinked as he tried to get a handle on the complaint. “Yes maybe, but those are still part of the local eco—”

“I’ve lived here for more than fifty years…” began a frail old woman with white hair. The room quieted to hear her better. “Those businesses are just a few that won’t be able to compete with the change this new building of yours is going to generate. And those businesses are the cornerstones of our community. They are what make Brooklyn Heights, well… Brooklyn Heights. And when they are inevitably swallowed up, this neighborhood won’t be anything like the place I’ve built my life.”

“You realize that it’s kinda insane that, given the proximity to Manhattan, it’s taken this long for the neighborhood to break out, right?” Tony countered.

“You say that like ‘breaking out’ is a good thing,” screamed someone behind him.

“It is a good thing,” Tony stressed. “Change is good. This project is the next step for Stark International. There is nothing quite like this… This is a good project.” This is my baby, he thought. He looked around the room and saw not everyone was looking at him like he had personally arrived to take away their homes. That encouraged him to continue. “This state-of-the-art facility will make some of the greatest advances we will ever see to personal electronics, medicine, and autonomous computing, I guarantee you. Some of the smartest minds in the world will join Stark International, and it will be because they can work at the Starkplex.”

“Why does it have to be here?” Tony’s eyes darted from the rest of the crowd to the front of the room. Steve was standing there with his arms crossed and looked like he was ready for a fight. “Everything you just said is great and all, but that doesn’t fix what we are concerned about. Why can’t the greatest advances occur at your facility in Long Island? Why here? ”

“Because all of those minds want to be in Brooklyn. They want to work an easy walk from the subway and they want to be able to eat any sort of food they want, and Stark International isn’t the only company who wants to employ them.”

“So, you’ll destroy our community just to beat the competition?” Steve said. He was staring right at him and Tony couldn’t help but stare back. He felt his spine straighten as he subconsciously changed his body language to mirror Steve’s.

“I can’t control the free market.”

“You’re right. But you can control where you put your Starkplex, ” Steve spat out and emphasized the last word like it was something nasty. “You are making a choice to bring this here. We didn’t ask for it. In fact, right now we are asking you to change your mind. But if you continue, you should know we will stand up to you every step of the way.” Steve paused and looked around the gym. Tony could feel the tone of the room change as every single person present began to buy into Steve’s speech and if it was any other time, Tony would have probably joined them. It was almost impossible to be impervious to a Captain America speech, but Tony found that at the moment, it didn’t do anything for him. The rest of the crowd saw Steve Rogers, commercial artist, standing up to the great Tony Stark.

Even Steve didn’t know it was Tony standing up to Captain America.

“Then you’ll be standing up to progress. I never pegged you as someone who was afraid of change, Steve. ” His name rolled off his tongue before he realized deliberately singling-out one person out of the crowd of hundreds was probably a bad idea. Tony stood there, defiant, and the rest of the room faded away. It was just him and Steve and this unbelievable stalemate.

“This has nothing to do with change, and everything to do with—”

“STEVE!” Tony’s attention snapped to Sam, standing in front of Steve, and looking between the two of them. “I can see that you are very passionate about this subject, but I think we are getting a little off topi—”

Steve didn’t let him finish. “This is very much the topic— ”

“No, it isn’t. And yelling isn’t accomplishing any—”

“I wasn’t yelling.”

“Yelling— ” Sam began again, “doesn’t accomplish anything. We are here to inform the neighborhood about this development and possibly decide how you and your neighbors want to move forward.”

“And apparently crucify me,” Tony muttered. There was no way Sam had heard what he had said, but the look he shot him did a fine job of communicating ‘shut up’.

“Is there anything about the project you’d like to share with us, Mr. Stark?” Sam asked and kept his tone neutral.

Something about the way Sam was holding himself calmed the room and Tony finally felt like he had a few moments to take a deep breath. “Construction is slated to begin in the next month,” he said with finality. “But I would be interested in working with the community—” Tony looked around the gym and tried to make eye contact with as many people as possible while pointedly avoiding Steve, “—on ways to make the Starkplex an asset to the community.”

“That’s great,” said a man standing at the front that Tony hadn’t heard before.

“Maybe we could schedule a smaller meeting with you to talk more about this,” Sam said.

Tony had a feeling a meeting like that was only going to lead to more and more meetings, and thus, more and more delays. It was frustrating. He didn’t owe it to any of these people to ask for permission, but then he saw Steve stubbornly opposing him every chance he had, and he knew what he had to do. “That would be a great idea,” he finally said and hoped he kept the defeat out of his voice. He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a few of the business cards containing the direct line to Mrs. Arbogast. Crossing the gym to front of the room took an agonizingly long time, but when it was over he handed the cards to Sam. “Have your people call my people. Now this has been fun, but I have somewhere else I should be.” Somewhere I would rather be was probably a little closer to the truth, in that Tony would rather be anywhere but there.

He was out the door and halfway to the car when he heard the voice someone of running behind him. “Mr. Stark!” Steve called when he caught up.

“Tony, please,” Tony responded reflexively, fighting the desire to just tell him who he really was. Would Steve see him as more than the rich man who put a roof over his head if he knew Tony was Iron Man?

“I wanted to thank you for coming. I know you’re a very busy man.” Steve said, simply and without flourish. There seemed to be a stubborn non-apology somewhere hidden in his words, and it didn’t surprise him. He knew Steve and he knew Steve felt he was right. Hell, a little part of Tony thought Steve was right.

That knowledge made Tony defensive. “I have all the time in the world to sit in high school gyms and answer insulting questions.” It came off biting and bitter and Tony instantly regretted it. He ran one of the world’s biggest companies, he argued with board members and negotiated with foreign governments and placated investors. He had talked down supervillains on more than one occasion. Tony Stark knew how to diffuse conflicts, and yet he realized he was willingly making it worse. Arguments in favor of stopping flooded his head, but only one won—he needed to convince Steve.

Of course, Steve never backed down from a good fight and Tony was offering him one on a golden platter. “Yes, it’s so kind of you to take time out of your day to hang out with us common folk.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Oh then, tell me what you meant,” Steve barreled on, not giving Tony a chance to answer the command. “I’d love to know what is going on in the mind of the great Tony Stark. You know what’s best for us. You can see the future. Isn’t that what you always say? And it doesn’t matter to you that real flesh-and-blood people—” Steve pointed behind him, “—will face serious consequences of your decisions. And you don’t care about that. As long as it’s in the name of progress, you can do what you please.”

“Of course, I care about that!” Tony shouted, and any thought of diffusing the situation temporarily went out the window. “I want to make this right. I don’t want to hurt anyone. And yes, I want progress. Is that really so awful? Sometimes, Steve, there is more than just right-and-wrong. Sometimes there is right and righter and wrong and wronger and you have to make difficult decisions.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about making difficult decisions,” Steve said, and the threat sounded dangerous. Tony had a small moment of sympathy for supervillains.

That moment hung there for what felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes. There wasn’t much of a way to respond to that—Tony knew better than almost anyone how many difficult decisions Captain America had to make.

But he wasn’t willing to stop fighting. For some inexplicable reason, he just didn't have it in him, because that would mean admitting he was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t completely right, but he wasn’t completely wrong either, and until Steve was willing to acknowledge it, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, admit surrender.

“What are you going to do?” Tony asked, because he was an idiot intent on pushing Steve’s buttons. Steve seethed in response and Tony had the impression he was weighing his options. “Because here is what I think. I think I need to talk to you about making difficult decisions. I think we need to work together on this. I think if we don’t we’ll just make everything else worse.”

Where did that come from? Tony thought. He stood there quietly and watched Steve. He wasn’t sure Steve would take his olive branch, given his long and documented history of being a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Steve fought and fought, and he wouldn’t be the man Tony admired if he didn’t, but he had to see that maybe this was a solution that needed to be solved by conversation?

But it seemed that Steve didn’t agree—he just continued to stand there as if even opening his mouth would be giving too much away. Tony sighed, internally admitted defeat, and said, “Just so you know, I don’t want this to affect our working relationship.”

“Our working relationship?” Steve asked, and he sounded genuinely confused.

“The Avengers,” Tony replied simply.

Steve shook his head. “I believe it shouldn’t,” he said and sounded somewhat offended that Tony was even worried about that.

A rush of air left Tony. “That’s good.”

“Good,” Steve repeated, and the long silence returned. “Is there anything else you have to say?”

Steve’s tone suggested he thought that something should be an apology and Tony’s mood immediately tanked. “No,” he responded simply and turned on his heel towards the car and away from Steve and his disapproval.

As he settled into the back seat he thought about how he used to keep a little bottle of scotch in the cabinet right next to him, but instead of asking Happy to stop at a liquor store on the way back to the mansion, he took out his tablet and began designing the next version of Stark OS.

He could do this. He could run a company and be a superhero and argue with Captain America and stay sober.

“Is there anything I should do to prepare for this meeting?” Steve asked Sam while grabbing a late afternoon coffee not far from the mansion. Steve had been lugging around his portfolio across Manhattan today, but he had managed to find a free hour in between interviews to talk with Sam. It had been a busy week, between trying to get his art career off the ground and following up on any leads that could better prepare them for A.I.M.’s continued attacks, and Steve was finding it harder than he imagined to make the time for his friend now that he was living in a whole other borough.

“About that…” Sam said and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not sure you should come to this meeting.” Steve scowled, and Sam continued by saying, “You mean well, but you can’t solve every problem with punching and an inspiring speech.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that,” Steve scoffed.

Sam just looked at him like it was obvious. “I think you do.”

“I wasn’t trying to solve the problem with punching.”

“But you did give a lovely speech,” Sam said, exasperated, and shook his head. “And that’s great. The thing is… you escalate everything. That meeting jumped to an eleven the minute you opened your mouth, and this needs to be a six, max.”

“Sam—”

Sam ignored the disruption. “You win. That’s what you do best. It’s what makes you Captain America, it’s what makes you an Avenger, and it’s one of the reasons this country owes so much to you. However, you aren’t much of a negotiator, and the people of Brooklyn Heights need a solution and not a five-year legal battle with Stark International.”

That was… probably the truth, but it didn’t feel right. “Then what do I do? I think Tony Stark is under the impression I’ll be involved.”

“The best thing you can do is wait. And I’m pretty sure Tony Stark will be fine without you,” Sam said, and he emphasized Tony’s name like it was a little humorous that Steve cared so much. “That’s not why I wanted to grab coffee with you, anyway.” His expression softened. “How are you doing?” Steve could feel his forehead wrinkle with confusion because he wasn’t at all sure what Sam was asking about. “I mean… you made a lot of changes. The apartment. The hair. Your entire career.” He gestured at the large portfolio leaning against the table. "Big changes. I know losing Sharon was very difficult and I wanted to check in and see how you were coping.”

Steve took a long sip of coffee to buy him a moment to consider the question. His first instinct was to insist he was fine, but he wasn’t sure what that meant. It felt like he was moving on. He certainly was keeping himself busy between Avengers business and trying to further his art career. “I’m… adjusting,” he answered, and it seemed like the most honest way he could frame it.

“And Sharon?” Sam asked, getting to heart of what Steve was avoiding articulating.

There wasn’t a good answer to that. Steve missed her more than he could possibly explain, but thinking about her also filled him with a formless guilt, because the truth was… he was doing okay. He was moving on. And he was thinking more and more about someone else, which wasn’t right. “I miss her. A lot. But…” he paused… he wasn’t even sure he wanted to say something until it was leaving his mouth. “There is someone else I think I have feelings for. That’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Sam looked at him like he trying to make sense of the words Steve was stringing together. “It’s not wrong…” he started slowly, and he was probably trying to think of all the ways to make the rest of the sentence work. “Sometimes that’s how it works.” Sam smiled, and Steve felt a little lighter. “Any chance you’ll tell me her name?”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Steve had no interest to direct Sam’s attention at Iron Man. On the other hand, his head was buzzing with the need to talk about it, and Sam was better at keeping a secret than most other people he knew. “But it’s not a ‘her’,” he said as casually as possible.

Sam was looking at him like he was surprised but trying to hide it. “Is it Tony Stark?” he asked after a few beats.

“No!” Steve almost shouted and then lowered the volume when he noticed a couple at the table next to them had turned their heads to look at him. “Why would you even think that?”

“Just a feeling I had watching the two of you get into it. I didn’t know before that public arguments could have so much sexual tension.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows, and Steve had no idea if he was being purposefully ridiculous or not. “Have you ever seen a movie? You know—boy meets boy, boy fights with boy, boy and boy finally realize they were in love all along?”

“Sam…” Steve grumbled. “I’m not in love with Tony Stark.”

“I didn’t say in love,” Sam said, smiling like he had just discovered something about which he was already planning to ruthlessly tease Steve. “Just—you know—maybe possibly, you are kinda, sort of interested in getting to know him better.”

“Just because I’m interested in getting to know him better doesn’t mean I’m interested, you know?” Steve said as emphatically as possible.

“But you do admit there’s some interest…”

“Because he’s interesting! Not because—”

“He’s handsome?” Sam looked downright triumphant.

“No!”

“So, you’re saying he’s not handsome?”

Steve could feel his face heating up. “Of course, he’s handsome!” It was so obvious that it felt almost silly saying it out loud, like saying ice cream was delicious or New York was the greatest city in the world. Hadn’t everyone already agreed on this point? “But… I barely know him.”

“You live in his house. Sometimes, at least,” Sam said, and he sounded almost annoyed with Steve’s answer.

“Doesn’t mean I know him. Plus…” Steve trailed off and thought about the last time he saw Tony and found that his anger was very close to the surface. “He’s infuriating.” Tony was a good man, as brilliant and generous as he was gorgeous, but somehow, he didn’t seem to see Steve’s point of view at the moment and didn’t look close to changing his mind. And it made Steve so frustrated to know that someone as wonderful as Tony Stark not only disagreed with him, but passionately disagreed with him.

Sam shook his head, clearly not convinced. “Whatever you say. If it’s not him, then who is it?”

“Iron Man,” Steve said as quickly as possible, so it was out in the open and Sam didn’t have a chance to guess someone even more wrong than Tony Stark. Once the words left his mouth he was glad he did because he could feel the familiar and comfortable warmth that seemed to accompany every time he thought about Shellhead.

Sam blinked a couple times, and while he had taken the admission of Steve’s flexible sexuality without much fanfare, this seemed to have surprised him. “Iron Man. Right. Like the one leading the Avengers?”

“Yes. The one with the armor,” Steve quipped, dryly.

“The one you originally thought was a robot?”

“In my defense, I think a lot of people still think that.”

“This…” Sam trailed off, crossed his arms, and leaned back in the chair to think about it some more. “This actually makes some sense.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to be caught off guard. “No, it doesn’t.”

But Sam was continuing like Steve hadn’t disagreed. “The two of you act like you’re married and you’re always stepping aside like you only want to talk to each other. I thought it was some ‘co-leader’ thing, but no. And now I get it.”

“Sam…” Steve whined but he wasn’t really sure what he was protesting.

“You should tell him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you won’t move on until you do that. And I think there is a really good chance you will be happy you did.” Sam’s sharp smile had softened into something kinder and knowing.

“It will ruin the team,” Steve tried to explain.

“The Avengers have survived romantic drama before,” Sam replied, dismissively. “If anything, it’s baked into the Avengers’ DNA.”

“It will ruin our friendship,” Steve tried a second time. That reason was probably more of the truth, anyway. He was pretty sure loosing Iron Man as a friend would be intolerable.

Sam considered that reasoning for a few more moments. “I guess that could happen… but I don’t think so. Both of you are professionals. Plus… I think you’re missing something very important, like that he could be into you, too.”

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t think that was a possibility, it was just… too much to gamble on a small feeling. “Or—he could not.”

“That seems like something you aren’t going to know unless you ask the guy and I never would have pegged you as a coward.”

“It’s not cowardice. It’s prudence,” Steve explained, feeling defensive.

Sam wasn’t having any of it. “I’ve never known you to be prudent, either.”

Sam wasn’t going to accept any of his excuses. It was one of the things Steve always appreciated about their friendship. “So, what… I just ask him out?”

“That’s a start,” he replied and then paused before adding, “Are you worried about… what he looks like under the armor?”

“No,” Steve answered. He knew it was probably something he should care about more than he did, but the truth was he knew it didn’t matter. Iron Man made his heart race, why would that change depending on how he looked? Actually, he was more worried that Iron Man wouldn’t ever let him see what was under the mask. What if I never get to know his name or see his face? he thought. “I’m pretty sure this sort of thing is against the rules for him, anyway.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re someone worth breaking the rules for.” It was a kind thing to say, even if it didn’t mean anything. Sam shook his head and had that look he often had when it became clear Steve was only going to take so much of his advice. “Just don’t give up before you even begin to try.”

Sam was probably right. Steve wasn’t going to tell him that, but he did say, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Another day, and another battle with A.I.M. Tony sighed as he finished his post-battle shower. He could really use a break from this right now. In fact, he could use a break from a lot of things right now, including his current problem with Steve, who was most likely angry at him and yet probably only a hundred feet away somewhere in the mansion.

Tony wasn’t sure if Steve was avoiding him, but he did know that Steve hadn’t been to any of the neighborhood group meetings. It was especially frustrating because the meetings were going well and he wanted Steve there to know that he really was trying. And if Steve didn’t agree with the direction they were going, he wanted to hear it from Steve’s mouth and not just imagine his disapproval.

Tony sighed. He needed to talk to Steve as Tony, even if it devolved into a fight. A fight, he could handle.

Oh. That was a great idea.

Instead of changing into a suit and tie, he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless workout shirt before making his way to the mansion’s gym. Tony knew Steve’s exercise habits—he kind of needed to in order to build the mechanisms Steve needed to train—which meant he knew that the battle-by-numbers they had just finished hadn’t met Steve’s daily exertion requirements and he’d be taking this opportunity to finish his workout. Tony found him lifting the dead weight that had been specifically built to adjust its mass based on Steve’s requirements and it looked like today, Steve required a lot. He was out of the battle-suit and instead must have opted for a t-shirt and a pair of tiny gym-shorts, both of which were soaked in sweat as he struggled to keep the weight up. Instead of calling his name and possibly causing an injury by startling Steve (no matter how unlikely), he slowly walked the parameter of the gym so that he showed up in Steve’s line of vision.

He didn’t have to wait long for Steve to notice he was there. With great care—Steve was always careful with Tony’s inventions—he placed the weight down and politely asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Stark.” Ouch, Tony thought. He fought the familiar need to put on the armor and just be Iron Man instead of Tony Stark. It looked like Steve would have preferred that, anyway.

“Any chance you have some time to give me just a little more combat training?” Tony tried to sound as casual as possible when he asked it. There was no chance he was going to let Steve know he was getting under his skin.

Steve’s face softened and he had probably also been expecting a fight. “Of course, Mr. Stark.” Tony did flinch that time, but didn’t correct him. “Anything specific you’d like to focus on? Would you prefer to work on defensive or offensive maneuvers?”

“Why not both? Let’s just start where we were the last time.”

Steve just nodded and moved to the mats. He waited until Tony had joined him before crouching low, and without warning, he rushed Tony. Tony’s back hit the mats and he was staring up at Steve before he even realized what had happened. Without saying anything else, Steve assumed the last position and waited patiently for Tony to get up. As he did, Tony tried not to betray even the slightest hint of frustration. “Again,” he said, and prepared to face whatever Steve had in mind with him.

Tony wanted to get a chance to talk with Steve in a place that Steve would feel comfortable and when it would be clear he was trying to approach the problem as a friend. At least, that was what he was telling himself as Steve repeated the maneuver. This time Tony could read his body language and was able to twist out of Steve’s hold, only to find himself on the other end of a punch Steve was certainly pulling.

“Again,” he repeated before he found himself on the floor again. As he pushed himself off the mats, he added, “I wasn’t sure you’d agree to do this with me.”

Steve stilled and his face scrunched, and it was possible he was surprised by that. “Why?”

“We seem not to be on the best of terms at the moment.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” Steve said and lunged at him again. Tony knew he was just repeating the same movements to help Tony, and this time he could shrug off the hold and throw a punch. Steve deflected without even watching and threw a punch of his own. It was slower and more deliberate than how Steve would normally fight but it made it easier for Tony to duck and avoid it, which he supposed was the point.

Steve began to pick up the pace, as they continued and settled into a rhythm. After just barely avoiding a blow to the chest, Tony decided it was time to try broaching the subject and said, “The last few meetings with your neighborhood group have gone well.” Steve grunted in response as he telegraphed his intention to put Tony in a choke-hold, which made it easier for Tony to evade him and continue. “But I was surprised to see you weren’t there.”

“I’m surprised to hear you went to the meetings at all and didn’t just have one of your underlings do it,” Steve muttered.

“You know, it’s important to be present at these sorts of things.” Tony knew it was a low blow, but he needed a reaction from Steve and any reaction would do.

“Hmmmm… seems to me you could have been more present in the community more than a month before breaking ground on your pet project.”

“Oh? Kinda like you weren't involved before you moved, and then it ended up in your literal backyard?” Tony knew he had made a good point and he paused to have the moment and enjoy it. Of course, that meant this was a perfect time for Steve to lift and then drop him on the mats.

Tony laid there and panted for a few minutes before twisting around and looking up at Steve. He was expecting Steve to be watching him with angry intent, but instead he looked relaxed. Maybe even slightly defeated.

“What did you say?” Steve asked, looking down at him, and Tony was pretty sure Steve had heard him fine. Tony racked his brain for something to say in response, but found somewhere in the last minute he had lost his ability for rational thought. Instead he was watching Steve peel off his sweaty t-shirt and use it to wipe his face before throwing it in the corner. Now the only thing he was now wearing was a pair of shorts so tiny, they hadn’t been in style for men in decades.

It was an… interesting look on Steve. His attractiveness had always been more proof-of-concept than something Tony had actually been aware of. Blond hair and blue eyes? Check. Strong jaw? Check. So many muscles that only Steve himself knew what to do with all of them? Check. But there was something different about it right now. Maybe it was the retro shorts, or maybe it was the way Steve had let his hair grow out a little in the past month, but Tony was reminded of some porn, so old it had been on VHS, that he might have stashed under his bed. Steve looked like he was playing the role of the pizza delivery man who would show up at the fraternity front door and faux casually ask if anyone had ordered ‘extra sausage’.

Tony was used to seeing Steve shirtless when his battle suit had been torn to ribbons and in those situations, it wasn’t like Tony could avoid the comparisons between marble statues of Greek gods. It was that now, Steve was that and so much more—like he was Captain America, Iron Man’s best friend in addition to being Captain America, male power fantasy. Before this moment, Tony hadn’t realized that this was a thing he might want, but he was struck silent by how much he wanted it.

The spell was broken when Steve said, “Mr. Stark… Are you okay?” Tony shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than anything else, and tried to remind himself that he had a photographic memory and could imagine later what it would be like to tear those shorts off with his teeth.

“I’m fine,” he said in reply and noticed his voice had more bite than he wanted.

“I think it might be time to call it a day.” Tony probably was imagining it, but something about the way Steve was voicing concern also looked a little smug.

“I’m fine,” he spat out again and knew he was being too defensive. He tried to pop up on his feet as quickly as possible, but the motion was too much, and the mats swayed beneath him. “Unless you’re ready to call it a day.” Taunting Steve was probably not in his best interest, but it seemed Tony had lost the higher brain function he needed to keep himself out of trouble. “It’s okay if you need a breather, old man.”

Tony had just begun to stand straight when Steve lunged at him. “What did you say?” he asked as Tony managed to barely deflect. He had the impression Steve was still holding back, but not nearly as much as before.

“You heard me,” Tony panted, and he was trying his hardest not to trip over his own feet as he avoided Steve’s blows. A smarter, more reasonable man would have called it right then and excused himself as quickly as possible, but apparently a nice pair of thighs were a significant blow to Tony’s survival instinct. “I get it, a man your age is supposed to be tired after a long day. I completely understand if you need to sit out the fight.”

“You think I’m not coming to your meetings because I’m tired? ”

Tony hadn’t meant to make it about that, but he hadn’t not meant to, either. “I’m not judging,” he said and couldn’t help but say it with a grin like he most certainly was.

Steve looked like he wanted to throw him across the room and the only thing keeping Tony from crying uncle was that if Steve really wanted to hurt him, he would have done so by now. They were still sparring, Steve’s efforts becoming more deliberate and focused while Tony was just doing everything he could to keep up. Strangely enough, it was working. There was a rhythm Tony hadn’t noticed before and settling into it felt comfortable. It was like they had been doing this forever and Tony realized that somewhere in the years since Steve had woken up he had gained the ability to anticipate what Steve would do next.

“Maybe,” Steve started. His breathing was just a little heavier than usual and Tony took it as a compliment that it was his doing, while he simultaneously tried not to think of other ways he could make Steve pant. “I’m not… going to your little meetings… because I don’t see the point.”

“You… don’t… see… the point… of talking… things out?” So, maybe Tony was little more out of breath than Steve was. Still, he was keeping up. That would have to be enough.

“I don’t see… the point of negotiating… with someone who has… no incentive… to follow through.” The blows were coming faster, and it was his own feet, not Steve’s attacks, that put Tony on his back again. Because accepting defeat had never been an option, he played dirty and kicked Steve’s legs out from under him. Steve fell forward and gracefully caught himself before crashing right into Tony. It had the effect of putting Steve’s face only a few inches away from his own and Tony’s brain on another continent. It wouldn’t take much more than just a subtle lift and tilt of his head and he’d be able to taste those lips.

It only took Tony a few seconds to process what would happen after a kiss, and it wasn’t good. So instead he put on his biggest shit-eating grin and deflected by saying, “Is it because you don’t trust me?”

Steve shook his head like he was fighting his own instincts—instincts that probably involved punching—and effortlessly pushed himself off Tony and onto his feet. “I want to trust you, Mr. Stark.” But instead of giving Tony a chance to respond to that, he walked out of the gym and left Tony laying there to wonder what sort of clever retort would have made him stay.

With Steve and his sculpted chest out of his sight, Tony realized he was going to have to face two important facts. Steve was very attractive, and very, very angry

Steve tried to force his attention to the collection of notes and maps on the table and realized that somehow the city had switched from day to night while he been daydreaming, leaving his apartment dark enough that he couldn’t see the details of A.I.M.’s latest attacks. He switched on the lamp beside him, but the light didn’t make it any easier to focus. He had been trying to find some sort of pattern or purpose to all of these events, but it didn’t seem to matter how much he looked at it. The fact remained that A.I.M. seemed content to get caught breaking into randomly chosen blood banks despite their continued failure. It didn’t matter how often they were foiled or how many A.I.M. operatives were taken into custody—the attacks didn’t stop. They also didn’t make any sense. Why did they need so many thugs at every attack? It seemed that if all they wanted was a few vials of blood, a covert operation would be a much better option.

So far the attacks had left only minimal damage, but they were incessant enough that Steve wanted them to cease. And yeah, maybe he also wanted to figure it out because he knew Iron Man would appreciate it. Leading the Avengers was a difficult job and Iron Man was doing fine work, but Steve could tell he was tired and he liked to think that he could make his life just a little easier if he took this off his plate.

And he would really like to be able to tell Iron Man he had figured it out, because if he did that, then maybe he could also tell him about his less-than-friendly feelings. Steve kept imagining it—he would see Iron Man at the mansion and tell him he had solved the mystery, which would make Iron Man so happy and Steve would just say it. He wasn’t entirely sure exactly what the it he needed to say was. Would you go on a date with me? Would you join me in the showers? Would you tell me your real name?

These were the thoughts that were keeping him from actually figuring out what he needed to figure out, or at least they were until Steve’s phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled, because it was exactly who he wanted it to be.

How ya doing, Winghead?

Steve thought long and hard about his answer and decided on typing, I’m good. Still can’t figure out what’s going on with A.I.M.

He only had to wait seconds for Iron Man’s reply. Don’t let it get to you.

Feels like I’m letting you down, he typed and sent, but quickly added, boss.

I’m pretty sure you couldn’t let me down if you tried. :)

Steve’s eyes stopped at that smiley face and it took a few moments to realize he needed to say something, anything, in response. It didn’t matter how much he parsed out Iron Man’s words, he still couldn’t think of what to say without ending it with, ‘… and I think I’m falling for you.’

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he just needed to get his feelings out in the open and he could move on. Or maybe, just maybe, Iron Man might return his feelings. That smiley-face seemed to insinuate he might.

Iron Man, he typed and tried to will himself to think of something clever and smooth to say. When nothing came to mind, he added, would you go out on a date with me?, and pressed send before he could chicken out.

Five minutes passed with no response before his phone lit up again. Steve shut his eyes tight as he clicked the message before opening it and reading, a date-date?

He took a deep breath. Is there another kind? he typed.

I don’t know, what did it mean in the 40s? And something about that made Steve angry, because he could imagine Iron Man saying something like that. It would be quick and clever and maybe just a little self-effacing, and normally Steve would like that about him. But here he was, pouring his heart out and all Iron Man could do was deflect.

I mean dinner, dancing maybe. Candles, even. But yeah, I mean it romantically.

Steve waited with baited breath for any response. There was no way quippy way to deflect that. I’m not sure that’s a good idea, was all he got.

Which… wasn’t what someone said when they weren’t interested. Why? If you don’t like me like that, it’s ok. It’s just that I do, and I thought maybe you do, too.

It’s not that I don’t want to…

So, you want to? Steve typed out before he could wait for the rest of that sentence.

There was a break in the messages and Steve imagined Iron Man was staring at his phone. He hoped Iron Man was as nervous as he was. You have no idea what I look like.

I don’t care.

So, you want me to show up to dinner in the suit?

Steve shook his head, even though no one could see. I’d like it if I got to see the real you, but I’ll take what I can get.

He had to wait too long for a response to that. You won’t like me, it said, and for a long time he stated at the words and tried to make sense of them.

I don’t think that’s possible, he typed. You’re Shellhead.

Just trust me. I know you won’t.

Let me be the judge of that, Steve typed and sent. He could feel his teeth grinding and the heat of anger beginning to wash over him. Sometimes, Iron Man could be so stubborn.

He took a slow and steadying breath and tried to tell himself to be patient. If he were in Iron Man’s shoes, he’d probably be just as hesitant. So Steve was taken aback when he got Iron Man’s response—just a simple ok.

“Ok,” he said out loud to his empty apartment. After spending a sufficient amount of time letting it sink in, he asked, can you do tomorrow?

Yes, Iron Man replied, and it was short and sweet and everything Steve hadn’t thought could happen. Immediately upon reading it a plan started to slot into place.

Will you be in the suit? he asked, because if he was than Steve was going to have to find someplace discrete for them to meet. He really didn’t want it to be the mansion—it seemed too much like work. No, what he wanted was to be with Iron Man in a place that didn’t remind him of the Avengers at all.

Only if you want me to be. He read it and felt his face heat up, something about the notion of Iron Man offering him that option felt… intimate, like it was something he was giving Steve that Steve very much wanted to take.

He knew exactly what he wanted. Meet me at Coney Island at 7 tomorrow. I’ll be right by the carousel. Wear a suit and tie. :)

Tony looked at the time. It seemed that he was only running a couple of minutes late. Most of him just wanted to send Steve some excuse and not show up at all, but a tiny part kept asking what if? and right now it was that part that seemed to be winning. This time last month Tony would have scoffed at the idea of a date with Captain America, but it seemed that every reason he would have used was invalidated now. Steve was at least somewhat interested in men, he wasn’t put off about the idea that he only knew the Tony covered in armor, and he wasn’t so concerned about team dynamics to not ask him out. It was just that all those reasons were replaced by another, more consuming one.

Steve hated Tony Stark.

Tony wondered if it was too late to hire an actor to pretend to be Iron Man’s secret identity, but that smacked of an extra layer of deception too far for even this situation, and it would be just another thing Steve would never forgive him for. Tony only wanted to screw this up so much and the truth tended to be easier to sort out despite all its conflicts.

A week ago this whole scenario would have sounded like a joke, but that was before he realized how much he wanted this. And it wasn’t just about how since that day in the gym, Tony had been unable to think about Steve without imagining him in those tiny shorts. It was on top of that, Tony couldn’t set aside the standard set of romantic fantasies. He wanted to watch the sunset and explore Paris and eat over candlelight, and all with Steve. And mostly, he just wanted to rip off that last layer of emotional protection he was covering himself with. He imagined staying up all night just talking to him and not having to keep any more secrets, and it seemed if there was even a slight chance that could happen, he was going to launch himself towards it without any brakes.

Which is why, instead of driving away, Tony sloppily paralleled parked and walked the few blocks to the carousel as fast as he could manage without breaking into a jog. If this was going to fail (it most certainly was going to fail, he thought), then it wasn’t going to be because he didn’t try.

Steve was sitting at a bench facing the river and looking calm in a way Tony never could be. It seemed that Steve had made his decision and maybe it was time for Tony to make his.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked and tried not to make it sound like a sleazy come-on. There was a moment in between hearing Tony’s voice and seeing his face in which Steve’s eyes lit up and Tony was sure he was going to get to have everything he wanted…

...and then Steve’s smile twisted, and Tony knew it was over.

“You, ” Steve hissed, and he made it sound like that was a great insult.

“Yes, me.” Tony could feel a familiar instinct wanting to come out and defend himself.

“Why are you here, Mr. Stark?” Steve stood, and his presence grew tenfold.

“I can explain.” I am Iron Man, he wanted to add in actual clarification, but the words stuck in his throat. It seemed that self-preservation instinct he was always outsmarting had managed to make a surprise appearance. “I can explain,” he repeated even though he had nothing else to actually offer in explanation. It didn’t matter. He had a feeling Steve wasn’t looking for the details.

“Do you have to be in control of everything? You couldn’t just let him have this one thing. Or was it that you didn’t want me to have it?” Steve was whipping himself into a righteous fury, his chest heaving and his eyes going sharp, and with every word Tony felt more defeated.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said but somehow, he did kind of know. It was the way Steve was speaking, the way he made it impossible not to buy into whatever it was he was advocating for.

“What happened? Iron Man asked you about the date and you said no? Did you give him something to do just so you could be here right now? Is this how much you hate me—that you have to break my heart to my face?”

“I don’t hate you,” Tony said, and the words were insufficient to explain just how much Tony didn’t hate him, but to do it justice Tony would have to pour his heart out, and even then he wasn’t sure he could properly convey what he felt.

Steve was eying him like he distrusted every word Tony was saying. “But god forbid I go on a date with your employee.” His voice had dropped and grown dangerous and Tony was painfully aware that Steve was taking this very personally. “What is it about you that makes you have to control every single det—”

Tony turned around. There really wasn’t much more he could do to fix this. Maybe if he got back and apologized as Iron Man, Steve might forgive him. Maybe.

But there was a better chance that his huge gamble had just resulted in burning down one of the most treasured relationships of his life.

He really should have known better.

Tony had only gotten a few steps away when he heard Steve behind him. “Mr. Stark, wait!”

“Call me Tony, Please, ” he said, primarily as a reflex.

There was something just a little softer about Steve’s expression. “Tony. Why did you come?”

Because I enjoy your company and figured you’d look good in a suit, he thought. “I don’t know,” is what he really said.

“Did Iron Man want to be here?” Steve asked, and Tony swore he could see everyone of the man’s vulnerabilities. It was humbling and scary at the same time.

“He did, but he couldn’t” Tony answered, and he was even being a little honest. Maybe Tony should have turned up in the armor, after all. Tony got to see the exact moment Steve silently accepted that and he would have given almost anything to take it back, just not the thing he would need to give. “Is there anything you want me to tell him?” It was low, but Tony had already cleared the bar, he might have well satisfy his morbid curiosity.

Steve seemed to have found something across the river that was more interesting than Tony, and Tony had the impression Steve couldn’t look at him. “Tell him… I would have understood. If he had told me, I would have understood.”

“I’m sure he wished he had said something.” Tony certainly did. “Maybe, one day—”

But Steve cut him off before Tony could vocalize exactly what could happen, one day. “And tell him—this hurts.”

Tony sighed. He preferred when Steve hated him. It was so much better than this disappointment. “I’m sorry.”

Something about how Tony said it must have convinced Steve, because he responded, “I know,” sighed, and shook his head. “I’ll see you around.” And without waiting for Tony to react, he walked in the other direction, leaving Tony to just stare at the spot he had been standing in before and contemplate how much he wanted a drink.

“Steve… What the hell?” Sam asked, and he looked pissed when he caught Steve standing outside the community center where Tony and the rest of the neighborhood group were supposed to be meeting.

“Was it a good meeting?” Steve asked and tried to avoid anxiously looking over Sam’s shoulder.

“Yes,” was all Sam would say and he narrowed his eyes. “We talked about this.”

“I know, that’s not why I’m here,” Steve tried to explain but Sam was giving him a look that said he did not believe that one bit. “That’s not the only reason why I’m here,” he said again, having been figured out. He really did want to know how it was going. It had been frustrating to sit on the sidelines of this fight, and Sam had pointedly been avoiding saying anything to him.

“Uh-huh,”

“I’m not lying.” But he never got to elaborate on that, because Tony was walking out of the building, listening to one of Steve’s neighbors animatedly explain something, and Steve couldn’t let him leave. He gave Sam a look that communicated some sort of mix of ‘I have to do this’ and ‘talk to you later’ that could only be shared between two very good friends, and half-walked, half-jogged to catch up with Tony before he could get away.

Tony Stark must have been very used to people chasing after him, because Steve had to shout “Tony!” to get his attention. He did take notice at that and turned around to face Steve, but he looked like doing so was some sort of great trial. Shame filled Steve’s stomach. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, or really think of anything else besides the look on Tony’s face before he walked away. Steve felt awful, and he was committed to making it better.

“At least I got you to finally call me ‘Tony’,” Tony said, and Steve got no joy from his sad smile. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, there’s nothing you—”, Steve started but thought better of it. He was going to do this right. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of the things I told you yesterday. You’re not responsible for the actions of Iron Man. And, if you let me, I’d like to make it up to you.”

Tony shook his head. “There is nothing to apologize for. It was my mista—”

“No, it wasn’t.” Steve cut him off to make sure Tony understood what he was saying. “I should have never spoken to you like that.”

“Steve, really, it’s okay, I deser—”

“There’s a bar down the street, if you would like to go and talk.” The question tumbled out of Steve’s mouth so fast he didn’t have much time to think it through.

Tony smiled, and it was warm and sad, but he also shook his head yes and Steve could only take that to mean good things. “This isn’t some ploy to influence me by revealing the plight of the other half, is it? ”

That hadn’t actually been Steve’s intention. “I don’t believe I have any power to influence you, so if it works, it is only because it was an unintended side effect of my other plan.”

“Which is?”

“To get to know you better,” Steve said and left it at that. He had realized somewhere in the last week that he really didn’t know Tony Stark and after last night, it seemed like it was time to change that. They walked in an easy silence until Steve pivoted and began to open a door slathered in concert posters reflecting garish neon lights. “I hope you like dives.”

“I’ve honestly never met a bar I didn’t like,” Tony muttered under his breath and followed Steve in. It was the type of place that smelled heavily of cheap beer; where your shoes stuck to the floor and the music was always shifting based on who was willing to fork up a quarter for the digital jukebox.

Steve turned to Tony and asked, “What would you like to drink?” He watched as Tony studied the chalkboard behind the bartender like it had the long-awaited answer to Tony’s most pressing problem. There was something in the way Tony’s brow was stretched and his eyes were taking in information that gave the impression that this was the most difficult decision he had made in some time. Steve wasn’t waiting long, but every second made it clearer that something wasn’t right, and he had an idea what that was. “Or we could go grab some tacos, if you’d like.”

Tony looked at him with relief and a just a tiny bit of disappointment, and any inklings Steve had were now closer to being confirmed. “Tacos would be great. Lead the way.”

Steve hadn’t been in the neighborhood long, but he had already eaten his way through most of the taco joints in an easy walk from his apartment. It was one part the result of having to come home late and exhausted from Avengers' missions and another part a consequence of his sub-par cooking skills. This did mean that he knew exactly where to take Tony—a place owned by one of the community group members which made phenomenal pico de gallo and seemed to offer every flavor of Jarritos soda.

“What do you want to know?”  Tony asked after he ate a tortilla chip dripping with salsa.

Steve wasn’t sure where to start. So much of Tony’s life was public knowledge. “About you?” Everything, Steve thought. “What do you do when you aren’t making the Avengers possible?”

Tony smiled like Steve had said some sort of joke. “You mean in my free time?”

It was a joke Steve understood. “Or what do you wish you were doing, if you had free time?”

Steve could tell Tony was taking the question very seriously and he wondered if anyone had ever asked Tony that. “I’d like to be exploring.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Space, or… everywhere. Anywhere. Not just seeing the world but learning things no one has ever known.” Steve could see it— Tony as Indiana Jones, hiking the jungles and using some of his state-of-the art technology to escape impossible predicaments. With his shirt sleeves pushed up above his elbows, he almost looked the part. Steve’s eyes were drawn to the open buttons at his neck, his tie seemingly discarded earlier in the day, and wondered if Tony’s chest hair would feel soft under his fingers. Without any more encouragement, Steve’s mind envisioned what it would be like to run his hands through it while the two of them laid on his bed, sweaty and sated.

Where did that come from? He was only trying to be the man’s friend. Steve shook his head and tried to focus back on what Tony was saying.

Maybe at some point he had begun to collect crushes like he collected causes. It hadn’t even been a day since Iron Man had stood him up, but here he was moving on to something else. There probably was something wrong with him, actually.

“You’d be great at that,” Steve said, and hoped Tony hadn’t noticed his lapse in attention. “I hope you get to go on the adventure you deserve.”

Tony smiled, warm and vulnerable, and Steve felt like he had known the man for years. “I already have had my fair share of adventures,” Tony responded. “I’d just like it if they were less dangerous.”

Steve had an idea what he was referring to—Tony always seemed to be getting into scraps, only to have Iron Man interfere before it was too late. “I know exactly what you mean. As Captain America, and an Avenger, it’s been a real pleasure getting to see what I see. I mean, I’ve been out of this solar system. It’s hard to complain about that. But every time that happens, someone gets hurt, and sometimes it’s even worse than that.”

“You wonder if you can handle losing anyone else,” Tony said, like he knew and despite having such different lives, to Steve it felt good to share something like this.

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve thought of his life’s last casualty—Sharon. Of course, she would have hated being thought of like that. She would have told him that he shouldn’t be blaming himself for her choices, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling in his core that he could have saved her.

Their food arrived, and they sat there in a comfortable silence while they ate until Tony asked him, “what about you? What would you be doing if you weren’t always saving the world?”

“Nothing special. Just make a living as a commercial artist.”

“Does that mean a nice quiet life, two-point-four kids?” Tony asked, and Steve honestly wasn’t sure. That certainly sounded wonderful, but it seemed so far away he couldn’t even picture it as more than something that just happened to other people.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “Seems… not right. Even now, I can barely stay out of the mansion despite moving to an entirely different borough.”

“You don’t have to always be saving the world, you know. I don’t want to say the Avengers would be fine without you…” Tony chuckled and then continued, “But I think they’d find a way.”

“For now, they don’t have to.” It made Steve think of the art supplies sitting underused in his apartment. He liked to believe he knew what he would be without the shield, but it seemed every time he tried to put distance between himself and Captain America, he was pulled back in. Maybe it wasn’t just about what the world needed. Maybe it was what he needed, and it was probably time to get used to that fact. “Some days I don’t like it, but I don’t think I could ever really stop being an Avenger. I couldn’t sit idly by. People depend on me to do the right thing.”

“And the right thing?”

“Fight. Sometimes you have to stand up and fight.” Steve knew his voice was rising as he got worked up and he sighed.

“Like the Starkplex?” Tony asked, and it sounded like he hadn’t want to bring it up at all but for some reason was compelled to do so.

“Yes. Like the Starkplex. But…” Steve watched all the people passing on the street for a moment and tried to remember what Sam had said. “…I’m also trying to learn when to step away. I know sometimes I ‘escalate’ things.” The finger quotes betrayed that he hadn’t entirely agreed with the observation

Something about that was funny to Tony and his eyes lit up like he was repressing laughter. “What does that mean?” he said and made it sound the like that was the most surprising thing that could have come out of Steve’s mouth.

The answer to that question still wasn’t clear to Steve. “I think it means I need to learn to talk about things.”

And now Tony was laughing. “Are you saying you should talk about things?” Tony asked, and Steve was almost sure he was just feigning the surprise.

Steve played along. “Yes. Apparently, there is the this thing called ‘compromising’… Sam keeps telling me I need to try it.”

“I haven’t heard of it. Tell me more.”

“Turns out if you just… talk to people, and listen to them, you might save yourself a nasty fight,” Steve mock explained while trying to keep a straight face.

“Kids these days. What will they think of next?”

“I know, right?” Steve’s smile finally broke through his act and he wondered why Tony and him had never done anything like this before. It certainly felt like they had been bantering forever. “I guess this is just my way of saying… maybe, you were right.”

Tony was looking at him like Steve was doing something monumentally difficult, and that wasn’t far from the truth. “Did you just say I was right?”

“About the talking thing, not about the Starkplex,” Steve clarified.

The sound of Tony’s laugh brightened the entire restaurant. “I would never dare to assume you would agree with me about that.” But the way Tony said it, it didn’t sound like it upset him. The way he said it was all fond acceptance and for the moment Steve was reminded of someone else.

It was probably some sort of projection—Tony had, in fact, always been a part of his life since he had woken up and while they had never been close, Steve had been close with the man’s bodyguard. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t help but see Iron Man when he looked across the table at Tony.

And it wasn’t just that Tony was doing odd things to his heart beat, or that at this moment his eyes looked so blue Steve couldn’t look away. It was that the way they were comfortably chatting—and the way that Tony at once caught on to his dry sense of humor—put him back to late nights in the mansion.

The waitress dropped off the check and Steve looked over to Tony’s empty plate and said, “You want to get out of here?”

Tony began to fish out his wallet, but Steve stood up and began to walk to the counter before Tony could make it there himself. It didn’t stop Tony, however. “Please, Steve, let me.”

“You don’t always have to pay,” Steve responded.

“Why not? It’s not like you have a real job,” Tony argued.

“You don’t consider the way I make a living a ‘real’ job’?” The annoyance in Steve’s voice was more pretense than anything else.

“That’s not what I meant…”

“I think that’s exactly what you meant.”

Tony was animatedly waving his arms around. “It’s just that I’m the billionaire and you’re the starving artist.”

“Not exactly doing much starving at the moment.” And Steve wasn’t. Work had been slight, but Jarvis always had food for him after missions and he knew how to stretch his small paychecks.

“It’s the principle of the thin—”

“It’s cash only,” Steve said simply and handed over a twenty-dollar bill to the woman working the cash register. Steve tried not to smile as Tony huffed and accepted defeat.

Or he did until he noticed the  credit card brand stickers on the door as they were walking out. “You lied to me! I can’t believe Captain America lied to me.”

He chuckled. “It was a tactical decision.”

“You devious, devious bastard,” Tony said with no outrage in his voice.

Steve hadn’t realized they had been walking towards his apartment till he was standing right next to his stoop. “This is where I live,” he said breathlessly and somehow, he made it sound like it was an invitation instead of an observation. He had the strangest impulse to bring the man in front of him up for a tour, an impulse that was hampered only because it would have stopped the slow momentum that was invisibly pulling his mouth closer to Tony’s.

“It’s nice,” Tony said, but there was no way he would he would have known, given his eyes hadn’t left Steve’s. They were so close that Steve could feel the more wayward hairs on Tony’s van dyke, so close that he could see the dark rim around Tony’s blue eyes.

They looked so familiar—those eyes—and Steve pulled his head away as soon as he realized who exactly those eyes reminded him of. He wasn’t ready to move on, and that fact hit him hard, like a punch across the jaw. “I’m sorry. I can’t. There’s… someone else.”

Tony looked disappointed, but not surprised. “Is it Iron Man?” he asked. Steve did not do anything to confirm it, but Tony correctly read his silence. “I get it. He’s a better man than me. But you know… he could be anyone. He could be someone you don’t actually like.”

Steve shook his head. “There is no way that’s true.”

“He could be ugly, or so busy he always forgets dates. Hell, he could be a drunk,” Tony said, and Steve had a feeling they weren’t talking about Iron Man anymore.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Steve answered, and he meant it. All those things, maybe they would make things difficult. But Steve knew that for Iron Man, he would be willing to do it.

“So, I guess you choose Iron Man.” The way he said it gave Steve the impression this wasn’t the first time Iron Man had gotten in the way of his love life.

“I guess I do,” Steve admitted before really following that line of thought. Why would Tony ever feel like the romantic rival of Iron Man? Except, maybe… “Why did you show up last night?” He realized that he had been so caught up in the idea that he had hurt Tony that, since he left, he hadn’t considered why Tony had been there at all.

“I… I was there…because” Tony began but clearly had no idea how he wanted to end that sentence.

“You wanted it to be you that I liked, right? Not Iron Man? And you thought if you showed up and looked good enough I wouldn’t realize that you shouldn’t have been there at all. Is that why you ordered Iron Man not to come?”

There was a sliver of hope written on Tony’s face. “You thought I look good?” But that hope turned to panic when Steve made it clear that he wasn’t going to entertain that question. “I told you, he wanted to be there.”

“Maybe he did.” Steve responded simply. Anger was coursing through his body, making him stand up straighter and seethe. “But he wasn’t”

“I didn’t… You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then tell me,” Steve gritted out through his teeth,

For a moment, it looked like Tony really was going to say something worth listening to, but then his body sagged in defeat. “I can’t,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“What happened to talking?” Steve asked, bitterly.

Tony shook his head, mind made up. “I should go.”

Steve just let his expression relay his agreement as it was certainly more effective than saying something. Tony interpreted it without comment and as he walked away, Steve waited for the anger to dissipate off his shoulders. Instead, it followed him all the way up the stairs and into the next morning, making it another night in a row he hadn’t slept because of Tony Stark.

“Will this ever end?” Tony muttered to himself when he received the call to assemble. It seemed that A.I.M. couldn’t take a hint, because no matter how many times they failed, they kept coming back, and each time it was more annoying. Luckily today the team only had to go as far as Jersey City. As long as these continued to be routine missions, Tony could still make the charity gala at seven. The time constraint motivated him to fly as fast as possible to the attack site, though he didn’t have to enter any coordinates. Steve’s report had listed this site as one of the three next possible targets, so Tony knew where he was going.

It had only been a few days since everything (and he meant everything) went wrong with Steve. Tony had tried to reach out a few times, both as Iron Man and as Tony, and found the reception was more than just chilly. Steve seemed to be so angry he couldn’t even talk to him. The only real communication he had received in return had come in the form of a mission report and possible next targets list that Tony found when he finally left the workshop yesterday morning. Tony imagined Steve going home after their fight and staying up all night stress-writing the report, which would be a funny thought if it didn’t make him feel so terrible.

Tony wasn’t sure what to expect when he arrived—from Steve, not A.I.M. They, as always, continued to be predictable. When he touched down and Steve saw him before delivering a perfectly executed kick on an unlucky goon, there was a brief moment in which Tony was almost sure Steve was going to forgive him and everything would be okay. Then he turned to Tony and acknowledged him with a nod while looking like the image of professionalism, and Tony knew he was sulking.

His eyes had been trained over all these years to keep an eye on Steve during battles. While Captain America wasn’t their leader in name, he was certainly their leader during a fight and Tony always tried to glean any cues from him. Or that was the reason Tony had been telling himself, but as he kept looking behind to confirm exactly where Steve was, it became clear he was also trying to do something else.

The Avengers were a team of super people. They had the sort of skills that made them less vulnerable than the average person and that’s why they could do this day-in and day-out. But Steve… yeah, he was certainly talented. It wasn’t like Tony threw around the phrase ‘tactical genius’ for nothing. But besides that, Steve could… um, hit hard? But not nearly as hard as Ms. Marvel. He could run faster than the average person, but that still made him a turtle next to Quicksilver. He couldn’t fly or do magic or phase through buildings.  In the end he was just a man, and Tony worried. Which is why he screamed, “CAP, look out!” when he saw an A.I.M. goon about to shoot him with some sort of ray gun.

Without looking, Steve was flat on the ground and kicking the legs out of his would-be assailant. And then—because that wasn’t impressive enough—he pushed himself off with his hands and was back on his feet just in time to deliver a powerful punch across another’s jaw. This was normally the part where he would have turned to Tony and said something like, ‘thanks for the heads-up, Shellhead.’ There was split-second where Steve looked right at him and Tony was sure he was going to do so, but then he turned and moved on to the next wave of thugs.

There wasn’t anything to do about it at the moment, not when A.I.M. was at step 6 in their plan and trying to escape. They must have burned through their helicopter budget, because they had downgraded to armored vans. “Hank!” Tony called as Hank was the closest one to the current loading point, and was relieved when Ms. Marvel seemed to hear him, too, and began to fly towards the already moving vehicle. Tony just focused on rounding up the stragglers and disarming them, making sure to set aside a couple of their weapons in case A.I.M. had made any improvements since the last time they had done this.

It wasn’t more than five minutes until Tony heard a crash a block away and knew the fighting was over. All that was left was to hand everything to the local authorities, debrief, and write the mission report back at the mansion. Tony sighed. After that it meant charity galas and SI deadlines and maybe if he was lucky, some time alone in the lab. A familiar desire to just unwind (which meant alcohol, not a vacation) filled him and he tried to remind himself that staying busy was supposed to be a way of avoiding that.

Tony looked out over the team finishing up their work. It was such an honor to fight with people who took so much pride in what they did. Leading them was often more about managing personalities than actually directing activity. So instead of having to tell everybody what to do, he could trust they knew what they were doing and take his own initiative. He was the closest to the facility, so he decided to take on the task of securing it and making sure everyone inside was fine.

The facility was entirely (thankfully) empty. A.I.M. hadn’t cared one bit about how they left the place—equipment was all over the floor and broken vials of blood gave the place a strong resemblance to something out of a horror movie. Tony gingerly stepped around the mess and took the time to step in and out of every room, just in case anyone was left behind.

“Iron Man!” Tony heard Steve shout somewhere near the entrance.

Tony didn’t stop his slow steps, and instead just called out, “over here.” He hoped the sound of his voice through the voice modulator would be enough to make up for his vague response. Tony was now in what could be best described as an oversized closet full of benign medical equipment. Unlike the rest of the facility, everything was still in its rightful place and suddenly Tony was very aware that he only had the exit behind him. He paused and listened—he couldn’t be sure, but he swore he heard footsteps that Steve’s heavy boots could never make.

“Iron Man?” That was Steve again, and while his voice was closer Tony still couldn’t place him.

Tony turned slowly turned and wasn’t at all surprised to see a lone man, dressed in dark athletic wear instead of a beekeeper costume, standing at the door and looking neither concerned or surprised to see him. “Do you need help?” All of Tony’s intuition said that he wasn’t a civilian, but he asked anyway.

He didn’t get an answer before his vision began to blur and he crashed, loudly, on the floor. As everything faded to black Tony could hear Steve’s familiar footfalls, but they sounded so far away.

The first thing Steve heard was a loud and ominous crash. That was all that he needed to hear to run towards the back of the facility, as fast as he could and without care for the crunching glass under his boots. It happened so fast that there wasn’t time to recognize something like dread in his gut, just the thought of no, not Iron Man. It didn’t matter how angry he was at that tin man, not if he was in trouble.

Not if Steve could help him.

It took longer than he would have hoped to find the spot. The facility was like a maze and every wrong turn just disoriented him more. “Iron Man?” Steve called even though he hadn’t gotten an answer the first ten times.

“He’s over here,” said a voice that didn’t belong to anybody Steve knew. He turned on his heel and ran so fast that he almost barreled into the voice’s owner. The man, clad all in black, was standing in the doorway to a large closet. He was big—Steve was certain the man had some combat experience—but not so big that Steve’s eyes weren’t immediately drawn to the red and gold metal figure behind him.

Steve didn’t need an explanation and had no desire to wait for one. Without much thought to the man’s physical integrity, he knocked him aside and knelt by Iron Man’s head.  Steve gave him a light shake, but nothing happened. Iron Man was disturbingly still. Rage began to fill his veins like it had a physical property and Steve stood up, ready to make the man fix Iron Man or pay for what he did. At the moment, Steve was having a difficult time understanding the difference.

The man, who had been crumbled to the floor when Steve had knocked him down, was now gingerly getting back on his feet. He should have been in pain, but instead he was grinning, manically, and Steve got ready for the fight that was inevitably coming his way.

“Hmmm… This is even better,” the man said to himself, and Steve noticed the air’s subtly sweet taste only seconds before his knees buckled and he hit the floor.

Steve came to consciousness like no time had passed, but it wasn’t at the plasma facility. They was a soft, unfocused feeling in his brain, like he had just slept an entire night. As he tried to shake off that sleepy feeling, he realized he was tied down to something hard and scratchy. A quick survey of the room confirmed his suspicions of where he wasn’t. This certainly wasn’t his Brooklyn Heights studio, it had none of the natural light. He must have been in some sort of basement, because instead it had no light at all, except an orange glow radiating from the hallway, possibly from a from an exit sign.

Steve was alone and there were no distinguishing features to give him an idea of where he was. He tried to move his limbs and came to the realization with every tug that he was thoroughly restrained. Fortunately, his muscles weren’t that sore—they had none of the discomfort he associated with being unconscious for long periods of time. That meant he could only be so far from the Avengers.

“Hey!” someone familiar whispered, and Steve looked over again at the hallway door to see Tony.

“Tony?” Steve asked, honestly surprised. Why was Tony there?

“It’s not a trick, it’s really me,” Tony said and quickly made his way to Steve’s side. Without explaining any further, he began to work at the restraints at Steve’s wrists.

Steve didn’t have to wait long until his upper body was free. Tony immediately moved on to his feet. “Where’s Iron Man?” It made no sense—why would they kidnap Tony and Iron Man? And why did Tony not free him first? “Is he okay?”

Tony sighed and shut his eyes, seemingly too overwhelmed to say anything at the moment. Dread clutched Steve’s heart. It couldn’t be, Iron Man could get out of— “He’s fine. He’s in the other room,” Tony said and nothing about his expression conveyed that Iron Man was hurt, but there was still that pained and tired look on his face.

Pure relief washed over Steve, but he continued to watch Tony. Was Tony still upset that Steve wanted to be with Iron Man? Did this really have to be a problem right now? “Why did you come to me first? He’s your bodyguard.”

“I got to you first,” Tony said offhandedly and finished the last lock on the restraint on Steve’s ankle. “Now do you want to talk or do you want to get Iron Man?” They way he said it, Steve didn’t think Tony was jealous — just tired of having to always account for his employee.

“Ok,” Steve agreed. Tony may have had some combat training at the moment, but in a fight with whatever thugs they have coming their way, they were going to need the extra help. Iron Man had abilities that they might need, and he would make it easier to keep a civilian like Tony safe. “You said he’s just in the next room?”

“Yeah. I think that’s where your shield will be, too. Now I’m sure they aren’t leaving equipment like that just lying around, so there will be some guards. You ready for a fight?” Tony smiled so wide it went to his eyes and a strange fear ebbed off Steve’s shoulder. He was always ready for a fight.

“Lead the way.”

When Tony said it was in the next room, he had meant it. What he hadn’t included what that they were in some sort huge facility and the door was all the way on the other side of the hallway. And between them and that door was an entire football team of thugs, both in numbers and actual body type. If they were A.I.M., they must have chosen to not dress up in the normal yellow outfits and instead were clothed in black athletic wear.

He hadn’t been out long, but it had been long enough that his muscles were still lethargic and his thinking muddled. So, it took him a few hits for him to wake up entirely. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve was trying to keep an eye on Tony in case he ran into any trouble, but it seemed that Tony had learned a lot in their two sessions. Watching him deflect a would-be assailant with ease and the proper form filled Steve with pride and gave him confidence that they could work as a team, and once they had Iron Man with them, they would be unstoppable.

It didn’t take much to effectively disable the entire hallway of goons, but Steve still groaned when he realized the door was locked.

“Move aside, I got this,” Tony whispered and softly pushed Steve out of the way. He pulled out some make-shift tools that looked like he had made them under duress. Steve probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was nice to be reminded that Tony could invent anything when needed, including a lock pick. With a tug at his elbow, Tony pulled him into the large room that seemed to be used as some sort of laboratory and workshop, almost like something he’d come across in the mansion.

“I thought you said—” Steve began as his eyes did a second scan of the room. He couldn’t see a single soul in the room, and definitely not Iron Man. “Where’s Iron Man?”

Tony gave him the same look as before. The look that seemed to communicate ‘I’m exhausted,’ better than any words could. Then he shook his head and it was gone, and in its place was just stubborn dedication. “It’s got to be around here somewhere…”

Whatever it was, it might be the key to finding Iron Man, so Steve asked, “What are you looking for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Tony said dismissively, like he he was just telling Steve that to avoid having to use big words. “AH HA!”  Tony’s eyes were bright and his smile brilliant as he held up… the Iron Man armor.

“No!” Steve whispered. That couldn’t be good.

But Tony didn’t seem concerned. For a moment, a flash of anger settled somewhere on Steve’s skin. How could Tony behave so dismissively of his employee? But Tony must have known what Steve was thinking because his triumphant smiled turned guilty. “I hope someday you’ll understand,” he said. “I never thought you’d find out like this. In fact, I used to hope you wouldn’t find out at all.”

If what he was supposed to understand was obvious to Tony, it went entirely over Steve’s head, and without any more clarification, Tony stripped off his shirt and pants before lifting the chest plate over his head and fastening it around his waist. Immediately, the armor turned on. His fingers seemed to know where every latch was by heart—he never stopped to look at what he was doing or if everything was lined up. That probably made sense, Steve thought. Tony had designed and built the armor himself.

Still, Steve was surprised when the gauntlets slipped on easy. And then the golden mesh covered Tony’s arms like it was made for him.  And then the one on the other hand and the other arm and… With every snap of a latch the truth began to pop into place.

Tony had been the first person to wear the Iron Man suit, after all.

Pop.

He had never seen the two of them in the same place.

Snap .

They had the same deep blue eyes.

Click.

Being with Tony had felt so familiar. And now he knew why.

“It was you.” Tony looked up from the last latch around his waist, and Steve didn’t have a doubt. Iron Man hadn’t stood him up. Tony hadn’t manipulated the situation to have him to himself. From the very beginning, from the moment he had woken up from the ice, Tony had been there. He wasn’t a stranger, someone Steve had just began to get to know. He was Iron Man and he cared about Steve. That much was obvious now. “It was always you.”

“Yes,” Tony said, and that confession looked painful. That seemed to be the end of whatever he was going to explain, however, because he picked up the Iron Man helmet and pulled it over his head. “I don’t know about you, but I would rather be fighting bad guys right now. You ready Cap?”

To Steve's dismay, the voice modulator was working fine.

Steve wasn’t ready to let this go. There was no end to the questions he wanted to ask, and those questions weren’t even his priority right then. What he really wanted was to do what he had been day-dreaming about for the last month and just yank the helmet right off Iron Man’s shoulders and then kiss Tony until he couldn’t breathe anymore. For only the thousandth time, he wondered what Iron Man was thinking underneath all the armor. Knowing he was Tony did nothing to answer that. “We’re going to talk about this later,” Steve said and made sure it was obvious that it was his condition for fighting the bad guys.

“Yes, Captain,” And Iron Man, no, Tony, sounded chastised even under the voice modulator.  It seemed that he thought this was a problem. Unfortunately, for the both of them, the footsteps behind him meant that Steve didn’t have time to explain how much of a not-problem it was. Steve turned on his heel, expecting to see ninjas or A.I.M, or some other sort of faceless thug, and not…

“Big Thunder?” Steve asked, and he knew his mouth was hanging open. Steve had fought the redheaded giant in front of him before, and he never expected to see him again.

“That’s your name?” Tony was making a sound that must have been laughter before it had been through the voice modulator. “Cap, you know this bozo?”

“I took him down not to long ago. His gang, the Coney Island Cruisers, were causing problems in the neighborhood,” he responded and scanned the rest of the room. It didn’t seem that there was something more sinister going on. It really was two Avengers against a two-bit street thug.

“You—” Tony looked the man up and down, clearing exaggerating the movement so that it was still obvious with the armour on, “—fought Captain America, and lived to talk about it?” He turned to Steve. “Cap, you are getting soft in your old age.”

Steve shrugged. “Hey! I can’t take down every street-level thug. What would Spider-Man do with his free time?”

“Isn’t he based out of Queens? Coney Island is kind of a hike for him.” Tony didn’t sound like he was particularly concerned about either Spider-Man or the man in front of him.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Spider-Man can take the F train just like everyone else.”

“Aren’t you going to fight me?” Big Thunder asked and seemed annoyed that they were more interested in each other than him.

Steve smirked. “I don’t know, what do you think, Iron Man?”

“If we put this bozo in prison, can I call Thor ‘Big Thunder’, instead?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Without broadcasting his movements Steve went for a kick to Big Thunder’s knees. He managed to avoid Steve’s attack, but that was ok. Big Thunder wasn’t much to worry about—he was huge, stupid, and slow. However, he had still been both strong and a formidable fighter. In another circumstance Steve might have had to think creatively.

But he was fighting alongside Iron Man, and it only took Tony a couple of repulsor blasts to subdue him.  And after that it only took Steve a few moments more to have him restrained.

“You are a complete idiot,” Tony said. “Somehow you managed to survive a run-in with Captain America, and then, you kidnap him. Please, explain to me your logic.”

“I didn’t kidnap you. One of my employees did.” Big Thunder’s bluster was gone.

“Bad guy tip—next time one of your goons brings back unconscious superheroes, just drop them off in a public park. If you leave a blanket, we probably won’t even investigate,” Tony said as he exaggeratedly dusted his hands off even though it just created an uncomfortable metal-on-metal sound. “What do you say Cap? Let’s call in the authorities. Also, maybe Spider-Man.”

“Sounds great, Shellhead.” The endearment had been reflexive, and it wasn’t until Tony didn’t respond that Steve realized it might not have been the appropriate thing to say. He itched to say something about it, really anything that would make them have the conversation they so very much needed to have, but there was a not-very-bright gang boss being held in zip ties in front of them and this was not the time for that conversation. So instead of probing further, he asked, “What was your plan anyway?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, and he sounded surprised that they were even talking to Big Thunder. “Why was A.I.M. involved?”

Steve shook his head. “No offense intended-”

Tony cut him off and added, “—actually, all offense intended—”

“—A.I.M. seems a little above your budget,” Steve finished.

Big Thunder made a move to speak but Tony raised his hand like an eager student. “No, let me guess. I want to guess. Was it an insurance thing?”

“Somewhat—”

All of it was beginning to make sense. All this time, Steve had been focusing on A.I.M, but they were only part of the problem. “It’s not only you and A.I.M., is it?”

“No—”

“There’s a third actor,” Tony cut in. “Because you don’t own the facilities.”

“Who owns the plasma donation centers?” Steve asked Tony instead of Big Thunder, who was irrelevant at the moment.

“You mean, who owns the dummy corporation that operates ‘Lifeblood, Incorporated’?”

“Roxxon!” Big Thunder shouted and looked proud that he and been able to get in a word.

“Oh…” Steve said.

“Dammit,” Tony clarified.

“It’s never easy, is it?”

“Actually, this time…” Tony waved his gauntlet to indicate Big Thunder, “it was. You should let all of your bad guys go free.”

Steve huffed purposefully loud to make it obvious he was only pretending to be annoyed. “I didn’t let him go.” The Iron Man helmet tilted in a way that Steve knew Tony was giving him an exaggerated side-eye. “I just didn’t stay to make sure the cops came.”

Tony laughed and it sounded like crackling electricity through the voice modulator, but Steve’s brain naturally superimposed Tony’s real laugh now that he knew what it sounded like for real.

“Iron Man…” Steve began, quiet enough that he would only be heard by one person. There was so much to say, so much to ask, so much to… apologize for. The same guilt he had felt after that meeting in the park came back, but this time five times worse.  

Tony pivoted so that he was no longer facing Big Thunder but still close enough he could whisper to Steve. “I know, Cap.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

Tony looked at him and Steve could feel those blue eyes trying to anticipate Steve’s reaction. He held the stare for a full minute before shaking his head and settling on saying, “You’re right. I don’t know. Let’s get this over with.”

A grimace settled on Steve’s face as he prepared himself to ‘get this over with’, a phrase that obviously meant something different to him than it did to Tony. He opened his mouth, ready to just tell Tony how this didn’t change anything and that he was in love with Iron Man just about as much as he wanted to kiss Tony Stark. That he was sorry for jumping to conclusions and being so mean. He would have said it, too, even though Big Thunder was only ten feet from him, but there was a rustling downstairs and Steve knew he had more immediate things to worry about. So instead he assumed a defensive position, ready to fight whoever it was that was coming up the stairs, and felt Iron Man behind him do the same.

Vision floated up through the floor and Steve let out a sigh of relief. “They are here and unharmed,” he shouted. Or it was loud enough to be a shout, even if there wasn’t a corresponding strain in his voice.

Steve relaxed and smiled as the rest of the team funneled in through the door.

“Meet our new friend, Big Thunder,” Tony said over Steve’s shoulder and with more glee than should be possible under the voice modulator, added, “he’s Cap’s fault.” Steve shot him an annoyed glance and surveyed the team, all of whom seemed to have shown up for this.

It didn’t take long to explain exactly what had happened. “Really, that’s it?” Hank asked. “All of this, and it was just an insurance scam?”

“For Roxxon, it was,” Tony began, “The Coney Island Cruisers get to buy up the property around sites of the attacks and A.I.M. possibly gets to keep any samples they acquire. You were right, they were targeting mutant blood samples.”

“Seems like a dumb deal for everyone involved,” said Ms. Marvel.

“Except Roxxon. It’s going to be almost impossible to tie this to them,” Steve huffed.

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” Tony said, and he looked from Avenger to Avenger like he was about to begin an inspiring speech. But something on Steve’s face must have stopped him, because instead he said, “But maybe we could wait until tomorrow. Can the rest of you stay with Big Thunder and make sure he is actually arrested this time? Cap and I need to have a conversation.”

“Can do,” Jan responded for the rest of the team and Steve swore there was a knowing glint in her eye. Sam, certainly, was grinning like he knew.

“Thanks,” Steve said, and he wasn’t sure if it was to the team as a whole or Tony in particular.

Tony turned to him. “Wanna fly?”

He let his smile be the answer, and then they were off in the air. It was dark now, the day having turned to night while they had been fighting in the warehouse. There wasn’t a need to ask where they were going, Steve trusted Tony to make this decision like he had learned to trust Iron Man so many times before. The strong, golden mesh arm around his waist steadied him and kept him focused as the city lights twinkling below.

They were higher than normal and the air vibrated against his skin as they moved. It was too loud to say anything right now and Steve tried not to think too much about what he was going to say when they landed. He expected Tony to do the same, but the voice modulator didn’t have the same limitations as a human voice, and he said, “I know I should have told you sooner, and I’d understand if you want me off the team.”

“I told you—” Steve began, but the cold wind was harsh in his lungs and made it impossible to make any discernable sound. So instead of uselessly finishing what he was going to say or letting it sit in his mind, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss to Tony’s cheek.

It was an awkward kiss, flying making it particularly difficult to maneuver and the wind was so cold the metal almost stuck to his lips. But it seemed to have done the trick, because Tony took a sharp turn and flew in the direction the Brooklyn Bridge, where Tony slowly dropped Steve down onto the top of one of the brick pillars.

“Can you take it off?” he asked as soon as they touched down.

Tony’s armor, framed by the glowing Manhattan skyline behind him, made an artful silhouette. But right now, Steve just wanted to see Tony.

There must not have been any confusion over what Steve was referring to, because Tony didn’t wait to clarify before he lifted the helmet off his shoulders. Instead of throwing away another unneeded moment, Steve stepped forward and threaded his fingers through Tony’s hair. It, still unkempt and sweaty from the helmet, felt soft against his skin. There was a split second of confusion on Tony’s face before he realized what was going to happen, but Steve had no doubts as he closed his eyes, leaned the rest of the way forward and used the hand on the back of Tony’s head to guide him to Tony’s lips.

It was a soft, light kiss at first, and Tony’s lack of preparedness meant it was initially one-way. But that was only for the first ten seconds or so, because something must have clicked in Tony’s mind and he stepped even closer to Steve to wind his arm around his waist and bring his body flush against Steve’s.

“Steve…” Tony whispered without moving himself more than an eighth of an inch. “Are you sure?” His breath was warm on Steve’s chin. It made him feel dizzy--in addition to the long drop to the bottom of the bridge.

He smiled in response—and he felt, rather than saw—Tony smile back. “I’m very sure.”

“But—”

“This is better than I could have ever dreamed of. And I want to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Steve, you have nothing to be—” Tony started to say.

“Please, let me apologize.”

“I lied to you. For years.”

“You had your reasons. I trust you,” Steve responded and closed his eyes. Guilt pooled in his gut as he remembered all the things he had said in anger. He hoped he could make this right. “And you were going to tell me, that night at the park, if I had just been smart enough to listen. But instead I jumped to conclusions and said all the wrong things. And then I did it again.”

Tony shook his head and Steve had the impression he didn’t really agree. Instead of accepting his apology, Tony said, “I thought you were trying make a new start. See who you are without Captain America. Find a new life.”

Steve stepped away so he could see him better. “Tony… I moved across the East River and somehow still ran into you. I’m starting to think that, all along, my new life was right here, at your side. That is if…” Steve trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. What if Tony didn’t forgive him?  “If, you’re interested, that is.”

Tony laughed until his body shook. “Are you serious? Do you think I would drive all the way to Coney Island for just anyone?” Steve glared at him and Tony threw his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just a joke!”

“So, that means you would—”

“—like to go on that date? Yes. Pretty please.” Tony said and with every word his smile grew till his eyes crinkled. Steve had the strongest impulse to kiss than smile, and with the city lights twinkling like stars behind him, he didn’t want to deny it. Without over-thinking it, he slowly leaned in and—“As long as you let me pay,” Tony whispered before their lips met.

Steve shook his head without pulling away and softly said, “I’m not sure I can agree to that.” And he closed the remaining distance and placed a soft kiss on Tony’s lips. “But maybe—” Another chaste kiss. “—I’d be willing to explore some sort of—” He kissed him again, but it was neither chaste or soft this time, and he didn’t pull away until he remembered he had to finish that sentence and whispered, “—compromise.”

Epilogue (Five Months Later)

“You ready?” Tony asked from the center of room where he could survey the rest of Steve’s empty studio. Steve wasn’t looking at either Tony or the last of the cardboard boxes stacked by the door. No, his attention was entirely outside the apartment, probably hovering somewhere above the Brooklyn Bridge, which Tony had to admit he had seen no better view of. It was a shame Tony hadn’t spent more time here to enjoy it. God, how he loved that bridge. “You don’t have to move if you don’t want to,” he said, even though it was futile.

It took another minute for Steve to tear himself from whatever he was thinking about and acknowledge that Tony was even standing there. He shook his head and Tony knew Steve had not only made a decision but thrown away every doubt. “This is the first time in three weeks I’ve even been here. I think it’s time I admit I don’t live here anymore.” That was true—Steve hadn’t slept anywhere besides Tony’s bed for months. Honestly, Tony had been surprised that Steve still had the apartment when he had asked for help moving.

“There is no law that says you can’t live in two places,” Tony argued, and avoided mentioning just how many other residences he happened to have. It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know.

Steve smiled at that, and Tony felt it had something to do with his own obvious restraint. “I know that. Still feels wrong. Someone else could be looking out this window.”

“I know we’ve been spending a lot of time talking about housing policy, but you personally deciding to keep your little studio isn’t going to be the gentrification tipping point.” There were protections in place—Stark International was delaying construction while the neighborhood coalition Steve helped put together continued to negotiate the fine details of a community benefits agreement with SI. In addition to promising to employ people from the community and build new science labs at the local high school, the Maria Stark Foundation was providing legal support to the coalition to help guide them through the process of implementing inclusionary zoning and a community land trust. It wasn’t perfect, but still, Tony was proud. The Starkplex was turning out to be even better than he thought possible and the national leader in community-based development.

“It’s not that…” Steve stepped forward into Tony’s space and wrapped his arms around his waist. “It’s just that, it turns out, I already have a home,” he said and punctuated his point with a quick kiss that made Tony, despite himself, smile.

Steve had a habit of saying things like that, things that made his stomach flip and and his brain run out of coherent responses and Tony was saved having to think of something clever when someone knocked at the open door.

They both turned at the same time and Tony could sense Steve blushing from having been caught in a compromising position. “So... it’s true,” said one of Steve’s neighbors standing in the doorway. “I knew something was funny with you two.”

“It wasn’t like that…” Steve groaned, and Tony looked back and forth between them to try and understand.

“Like what?” he asked when details didn’t seem to be forthcoming.

“They thought we were sleeping together.” Steve’s face was multiple shades redder than should be healthy.

“Wait—is there another euphemism for what we are doing?” Tony asked.

“Before. They thought that before.”

“Oh,” Tony said and smiled. “If only.”

“So, what’s this I hear about you moving?” asked the other man as he looked at the spotless and empty apartment. “Is Brooklyn Heights not good enough for you?”

Steve stammered, still blushing and tongue tied from earlier, and Tony debated stepping in before the first man said, “Just joking, Steve.”

“We’ll miss you though. Come back anytime. Do you need any help getting these downstairs?” the second asked and without waiting for an answer he picked up one of the boxes. Tony let out an internal sigh of relief. Steve lived on the fifth floor and for some reason had only tapped Tony for help, and not, you know, any of his friends with super-strength.

Steve let out his own—much more verbal—sigh of relief. “Thanks. That’d be great.”

It only took twenty minutes to bring the rest of the boxes down and load up the truck. “That’s all of it,” Tony declared when they finished, mostly to just comfort himself that he didn’t have to climb anymore stairs.

Steve shook his neighbor’s hands and said, “Thanks for making me feel at home. I can’t tell you what it meant.”

“Not a problem. And don’t be a stranger,” replied one of them.

“Yeah,” said the other and he gestured at Tony and added, “if this doesn’t work out, I have a friend from college who just moved in the building. I’d be happy to introduce—”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Steve cut him off to say. Tony watched Steve’s face in case he had any second thoughts, but it seemed that, whether it was about Tony or just moving, Steve had made up his mind.

As they stood next to each other on the subway (because Steve was sentimental and wanted to take the train one last time instead of following the moving van), Tony wished he was as sure of anything as Steve was. There was so many things—this relationship, Stark International, the Avengers, his sobriety—that could fall apart. But somehow, he had made it six months, and for the first time in a long time, Tony was convinced he could keep it together for six more.