Archive of Our Own ^beta

Natasha’s out of her chair before Steve can fully register that her blood vial came back green. She deftly dodges the tranquiliser darts, kicks off against Tony, fires at the CIA squad, and that’s when Steve grabs her. He tries to tell her to stop, but she slips out of his arms, tasing him with her widow’s bite. She manages to incapacitate half the team in the few seconds it takes Steve to recover, too fast, too nimble. She never gets out of the room, though. Strange brings her down with a spell.

As she lies on the table, unconscious, with the shattered remains of the blood vials, half the CIA team down and the Avengers barely out of their chairs, Steve has a sudden sensation of vertigo. She’d joked around with the team not five minutes ago. Steve didn’t know. He couldn’t have known, and if it hadn’t been for Hill, the Skrull would have been there, in their midst, for God knows how long. God, anyone on the team could have been a Skrull.

At least it was just Natasha, Steve tries to tell himself. At least they got her. He looks around, into the stunned and concerned faces of the Avengers, and tries to tell himself that there is no need to feel apprehensive. Everyone here has been proved to be human.

Next to him, Tony slides back the faceplate. He’s pale, and the lightness in his voice rings fake when he says:

“If this is what it felt like the first time around, I’m almost glad I don’t remember it.”

Steve just hopes that it won’t come to a full-scale invasion again.

It takes most of the rest of the day to implement large-scale superhero testing. Between tracking down the more elusive ones, convincing distrustful heroes to give their blood, and spreading the word, Tony’s exhausted. At least Steve and Phoenix found Natasha. She hadn’t even been gone for a day. Things are going smoothly, nothing like the first time around. He’s feeling confident that they’re going to handle it well.

He's ready to call it a night. He lands on the roof of the brownstone apartment building and lets the armour make its way down to the workshop as he takes the stairs.

“Everything went perfectly. Oh, and you were right, by the way.”

In his ear, the voice crackles, “I’m always right.”

Ha. If that was true… But it’s not important. What’s important is that everything worked out just like he’d said it would. They wanted blood, and they found exactly what they were looking for.

He sets foot on the landing, letting the skin around his elbow ripple back to reveal a blood pouch. He’s supposed to look human all the time, but the pouch is itching him, and there’s no one to see him now anyways. He takes off the pouch, setting it on the worktable. He sidles up to where Tony Stark is sitting in front of a monitor, and looks at the screen, where the security camera feed shows Tony Stark huddled in a corner of his cell with a fresh bandage on the inside of his elbow.

They have a lot to discuss.

Steve can’t sleep.

His mind is churning, too worked up from today’s revelations.

It hasn’t been an easy few months, in fact. There’s always something going on, pulling Steve into five different directions at once. It seems like it was only a month ago that the Celestial God had judged the entire Earth and almost destroyed it. Just after, the problems with the origin of Steve’s shield and mysterious villainous organisations started.

Steve should really go see Bucky and get some answers out of him. Steve hasn’t really managed to get a hold of him these past weeks and he suspects Bucky is being extra slippery on purpose. Steve doesn’t like the picture it paints. If Bucky’s keeping secrets…

And now there is the added problem of the Skrulls.

Steve’s Skrull detector machine is in his living room, ready to be used, and Steve really hopes he won’t have to. Hill was so efficient today that Steve half expects the invasion plans to be thwarted in two days. Until then, he’ll keep close to the Avengers. Maybe he should suggest that they all live in the Avengers Mountain until the threat is over, just to keep an eye on each other. Then again, Steve always thought it was creepy to literally inhabit a corpse.

Any tentative goodwill Steve could have forced himself to feel to the current Avengers headquarters died a swift death when said corpse got reanimated and decided that the entire world was lacking. And wasn’t that a nightmare. 

He shifts against his pillow, trying to blink the memories away. 

At least not everything has been doom and gloom recently. His joint mission with Tony a few months ago was nice. Just the two of them, against not-impossible odds. They had some long overdue talks, even if Tony had been a little off. He’d said he’d been trying to find himself, to go back to his roots. He had even moved into a brownstone building that didn’t feel much like Tony at all. The location, the interior, everything was so different and frankly weird. Steve hadn’t wanted to say it, but Tony had picked up on it, unfortunately. And then he’d said that it was good that it wasn’t like him. Like Tony should be less Tony.

Steve sighs, staring at the ceiling. He isn’t a stranger to hearing self-depreciating words come out of Tony’s mouth, but this is something new. He didn’t really pick up on it before their mission. Tony will say something demeaning about himself, and in the next breath, joke around, or carry on as if nothing happened. It’s so matter-of-fact that if Steve hadn’t been listening closer, he might have missed it, or even agreed with it. Tony didn’t use to put himself down so casually. Sure, he’s always had a tendency to underemphasize his own worth, but he wasn’t so vocal about it before. Add to that the alarming frequency at which people say snide things to Tony, and the even more alarming frequency at which Tony lets those things slide, or agrees, and Steve has a problem.

He hates that he only became aware of it during their mission. But since then, Steve’s been paying attention. It’s small things. Tony will say something, and a few of the Avengers will roll their eyes. Any complaint of Tony is met with scorn or a sarcastic comeback. He isn’t taken seriously. When he jokes, people either miss that it was a joke, or find it unfunny. Some only seem interested in using him for his money and gadgets. Tony just grumbles a bit and lets it happen.

Even worse is when Tony leans into it. He swaggers, he makes jokes of bad taste, he flirts lecherously, he boasts too hard, too much. Thinking about it, Steve can see that it’s been going on for a few years at least, but it’s been especially bad of late. Tony’s turning himself into this caricature of Tony Stark, and no one seems to notice. Worse, people are acting as if this is who Tony really is. It’s almost worse than how it was during the SHRA fights, because at least then Steve could understand their anger, and Tony really was doing awful things. But now, he’s doing his best, and people still look down on him. No one believes in Tony. No one trusts that he knows what he’s doing. There’s zero goodwill. Steve has even heard decade-long colleagues call Tony’s intelligence into question, when Tony’s genius has always been something that everyone could agree on. During the civil war, during the incursions, always. But not anymore. During Tony’s brief stint as the Iron God, when he gifted everyone in New York with his intelligence, Reed was there, and all he had to say was that he felt dumber. Reed, who’s only ever had compliments to give about Tony. It’s baffling.

Steve rolls over, tired of glaring at the ceiling. The wall doesn’t prove to be much more interesting, and Steve’s thoughts continue on their tangent about Tony. He should talk about his worries with the Avengers team. Maybe he can ask T’Challa for permission to give a seminar about team inclusiveness. Then again, Steve’s not sure that everyone appreciates his seminars. Maybe he should lead by example instead. It’s not like he’s not a part of the problem, loathe as he is to admit it. His first reaction when Tony comes up with a plan is to search for the flaw. He didn’t give Tony the benefit of the doubt when Tony turned into the Iron God. More recently, he even reminded Tony of the fact that the genocidal celestial god was based on Tony’s neurological makeup, because he wanted to shut Tony up. As if Tony was the only one involved in creating it.

Damn it.

Steve needs to see Tony and apologise for that. There is so much he wants to speak to Tony about. He glances at the bedside clock, sighs when he sees that he’s been brooding for almost three hours about this, and comes to a decision. Tomorrow, he’ll pay a visit to Tony.

The perimeter alarm dings quietly from the monitor in the corner. Tony’s counterpart glances at it, then at Tony.

“It’s Steve. He’s not wearing the uniform.”

Probably a social call, then. He knows that Steve has visited Tony a few times since he moved into the brownstone, but he thought that that was over, since it had been a few months since last time. Oh, well. Tony supposes he’ll be the one that will have to deal with Steve, since the other Tony isn’t moving from his worktable.

He feels a slight twinge of irritation creeping up. Why is it always him that gets saddled with this stuff?

He stands up, walks out of the workshop, and makes his way to Steve. When he opens the door, Steve’s half leaning on the doorframe, one hand awkwardly up as if he was about to knock, or possibly put his hand in his hair. He has a paper bag in his other hand. Tony gives him a once-over, noting the bland t-shirt and stiff jeans. Casual wear.

Tony invites him inside, smiling when Steve shows him the contents of the bag: two fresh bagels. They sit down at the table in the kitchen-living room-open space, and Tony brings out cream cheese and jam. They dig in, Tony pretends that he loves Earth food, and waits for Steve to tell him why he’s here. He doesn’t need to wait for long.

“I hope I didn’t come too early. I was on my run, and then I saw this bakery that just opened, and they had bagels, and then I realised we hadn’t talked in a while.”

Spit it out already , Tony thinks. Out loud, he says:

“You’re right. We’ve both been busy. It’s nice to have you here, though. We should do this more often.”

Steve smiles into his bagel, visibly pleased. He’s so predictable.

Tony continues, “how have you been? You’ve been less present in Avengers HQ these last weeks. Run into trouble?”

He’s read all of Steve’s reports, obviously, and the ones from the mole assigned to Captain America. But this is what the human Tony would ask, so Tony asks.

Steve seems to take it as an invitation to tell his life-story, because he goes on and on and on about his shield, and his Bucky, and art classes that he’s taking, and all in all it’s everything Tony already knew but with exponentially more angst about a metal disk than Tony’s ever needed to hear.

Then, Steve asks Tony about what he’s been up to. Not much that Tony can tell Steve, as it turns out. He says that he’s been recovering from Judgement Day (true), that he’s trying to figure out more about the Celestial (also true), that he’s worried about the Skrull invasion (not in the way Steve thinks), and that he’s trying to take it easy after his recent stint in rehab (not true). Steve’s sympathetic, all kind words and companionable squeezes of his shoulder. When Tony’s done, they lapse into a brief silence. Steve hesitates, then asks about Patsy. It’s not an unexpected question, since they’ve been dating up until just recently. Tony doesn’t think that Steve even knows that they broke up. Or rather, that they’re “taking a break”. If you were to ask Tony, he’d say that he never should have dated her, but it was other him’s decision. Now, thankfully, he can move past that.

He tells Steve how they had different views about where their relationship was going, and that she needs time to think about it. Read: he proposed to her and she said no. Steve winces knowingly. It takes Tony a bit too long to understand the gesture, but he finds the right memory. Steve once proposed to Sharon without knowing her name.

“I don’t think we’re going to pick things up again. Honestly, in hindsight, I don’t think we were really good for each other.”

There. He refuses to involve himself with Patsy again. He doesn’t know what his counterpart was thinking, getting in bed with her just hours after replacing the real Tony Stark, knowing she has telepathic powers! It’s a miracle he didn’t accidentally slip up and reveal all of their plans to her. Anyways. Since they’re talking about their dating life…

“And you? How are things going with Sharon?”

The answer he gets isn’t very clear. Try as he might, he never really understands what these two have going on. They seem to be in a perpetual state of “dating but not really”, on-and-off, committed but not.

“We’re not actively dating,” is what Steve says. So. Open relationship? Broken up? On pause? Time out? Humans make this too complicated.

Tony hums, nods a little, and pretends he gets it. He tries hard to think of something to end the conversation and see Steve out. He’s got stuff to do, an Earth to invade, the works. Steve’s been here for a few hours already, Tony wants him gone. But Steve isn’t done.

“So, uh, I’ve been trying to make more time for social calls, and I’m not in a relationship. I thought maybe we could see each other more often, since you’re also available.”

Tony twitches slightly. Is Steve aware of how this sounds?

“You know, grab a coffee, maybe. I’ve been bad at coming to see you, and we’ve both been busy, sure, but we shouldn’t let go of that. Now that we both have a bit more time to kill. Barring any apocalypse.”

Tony’s still trying to figure out if Steve is subtly trying to invite him on a date, which is why his brain-to-mouth filter lets the following sentence pass:

“Are you suggesting we go on a coffee date?”

Steve beams, nods, and then realises what Tony means. His nod stutters to a halt. There’s a faint rosiness to his cheeks that wasn’t there a moment before.

“I—I mean, as friends. Not that I’m—not—sorry. You caught me off guard.”

Tony can see that. 

He lets the implication of his question linger between them, and smiles inwardly when he sees that Steve isn’t losing the faint redness. He’s thinking about it. 

Privately, Tony’s mind plays a reel of the best - of of Steve and Tony Stark’s long and complicated relationship. He has all the real Tony’s memories, of course, so he knows just how deep his feelings for Steve run. He knows that the step into romance wouldn’t have been a big one. Not even when Steve and Tony were at their worst with each other. Maybe especially not then. Tony Stark’s always been hopelessly, desperately, pathetically in love with Steve. He thinks about him all the time. There are so many things that he associates with Steve. He even brings Steve up unprompted in conversations. Usually to brag about how Steve taught him hand-to-hand combat. 

And yet, nothing in the real Tony’s memories ever hinted that Steve might like him back. As a friend, sure. As a teammate, almost always. But he’d never let himself think about Steve liking him back in a romantic capacity. The Tony of here and now is delighted to see that the real Tony might have been wrong about that. Across from him, Steve drinks from his mug, not quite looking at Tony. Indeed, Tony thinks, it might be mutual. Or, at least, Steve’s not indifferent to the idea.

That’s something that he might get a use out of later. For now, however, the safest bet is to steer the conversation to another topic, but not deny anything. Let the thought take root and fester. Leave the door open, so to speak. Tony smiles lopsidedly, putting a hand through his hair, ostensibly to get it out of his face, but it’s an excuse to flex his arm. He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s gaze darts to his biceps.

“Just wanted to make sure what kind of date I was agreeing to. Don’t worry about it. A coffee sounds great.”

Steve nods into his coffee. It gives Tony the opportunity to rest his gaze a little heavier than is appropriate on Steve, who definitely feels it, if the way his ears grow just a tad redder is anything to go by. Steve’s decidedly flustered.

Oh, this is fun, Tony thinks. If I can do this while interacting with Steve, I won’t complain about having to play human anymore.

Steve nods again, drinks the last drops in his mug, and stands up. He’s clearly looking for an excuse to leave. How the tables have turned. (Some human idioms are funnier than others. This one makes no sense to Tony, which is why he likes to use it.)

Tony gives it to him, citing his work, and Steve latches on to the lifeline, but doesn’t leave before he makes Tony promise to meet him at the local coffee shop in two days.

Tony can’t resist posing a little at his window, one hand on his hip, leaning against the wall, when Steve gets out on the street and glances up at Tony’s apartment windows. Steve stops for half a second, and then walks off even faster. He’s too easy to mess with.

Tony chuckles a little to himself as he puts away his dishes (Steve insisted on cleaning up, even in the hurry he was), and descends to the workshop to update his counterpart. He’s still sitting at his monitor, but there’s a video feed up. Of the apartment. Tony’s mood sours a little.

“What, didn’t trust me to do a convincing enough job?”

He says it lightly, but there’s more truth to his words than he lets on.

Other Tony frowns at him.

“And clearly I was right not to. What was this, Kl’Riki Dulu?”

Tony frowns back. They aren’t supposed to use their real names on Earth, not until the full-scale invasion has begun. Too many recording devices everywhere.

“Don’t call me that. And what do you mean, ‘what was this’. I talked with Steve and let him lead the conversation. I’m not the one who brought up dating. This is a valuable piece of information! Emotional intel is just as important as any other kind.”

Other Tony stands up, his chair rolling away.

“You’re missing the point. If there is one thing that you do not do, it’s to imply romantic feelings for Steve! That is the one thing that Tony Stark will never, ever do! What were you thinking, flirting with him, when he knows that there are Skrulls on Earth! Now, more than ever, we can’t afford to do anything risky like that. I can’t believe you just did that. I’m going to have to report it. Fuck. If Steve gets suspicious, he’ll never leave us alone. You know how he is.”

Tony knows very well. Like a dog with a bone. But Tony knows what he’s doing.

“Please. He’s clearly interested. Bringing us coffee, showing up unannounced, coming up with stupid excuses just to see us. I’m just nudging things along.”

Other Tony sneers.

“You just want to get into his pants. Just because you didn’t like Patsy doesn’t mean you can jeopardise the whole mission for some piece of ass.”

“That’s rich. Remind me again, which one of us has been acting like an arrogant moron with no spine for the better part of a year?”

That’s enough for his counterpart’s eyes to flash green.

“Watch your mouth. I’ve studied Tony Stark for years. You’re a rookie who thinks that he knows best just because your superiors have a soft spot for you.”

Oh, so that’s what he’s mad about? That he can’t be the only Tony-assigned Skrull? Alright, Tony can play dirty, no problem.

“Maybe they sent me here because you weren’t good enough for the job. All you’ve accomplished is getting everyone to mock Tony Stark. Remind me again how this is useful for the mission?”

“I know what I’m doing! And all you’ve done since you came here is undermine me. We want everyone to dismiss us! That way we can do whatever we want without having people breathing down our neck. I even got Steve to back down, and now you’ve fucked it all up. What were you thinking? How can you even say that he’s interested? He’s Steve! He’s never been interested and never will! We have decades of proof. You have Stark’s memories, you know everything he’s felt. How stupid—”

Tony cuts him off.

“You’re the one who can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes. You’ve become so used to being Tony that you’ve started thinking like him. Steve isn’t ‘too good for us’. Stark was so caught up in his own self-loathing that he couldn’t even fathom that Steve might like him back. But I can see the signs. This is a golden opportunity to get under Steve’s skin. And you’re too much of a coward to take the risk.”

Other Tony’s skin has taken on a viridescent tinge; he must be livid. Tony doesn’t care. He’s right and they both know it.

He's had enough of being bossed around under the guise of seniority. Other Tony’s compromised and refuses to see it. He should go back to the rear, use his information to plan the invasion instead of masquerading as Tony Stark. He’s outlived his usefulness, and Tony’s tired of pretending otherwise.

It’s been a day since Steve’s conversation with Tony, and he still can’t get it out of his head. He keeps playing it on a loop, Tony’s eyes, his little smile, what he said… 

A coffee date . 

Steve hadn’t meant it like that, but ever since Tony hinted at it, he hasn’t been able to think of anything else. He almost embarrassed himself by letting a Fury Skrull slip through his fingers, just a few hours ago. Carol shot him a strange look, and Steve was very glad that his cowl made it harder to see him flush.

Steve doesn’t have the time to daydream about going on not-dates with Tony. The Skrull problem still hasn’t been dealt with entirely. He should be more stressed about it, but he can’t seem to compartmentalise like he usually does. It’s just… Tony never flirts with Steve. Not like that, at least. Sure, Steve knows that Tony thinks he’s attractive, but Tony appreciates the beauty of a lot of people. Besides, Tony’s never been with men, as far as Steve knows. And just because Tony compliments Steve on his eyes or calls him “captain handsome” doesn’t mean—it doesn’t mean—uh. 

Steve’s suddenly very aware of all the times that Tony’s complimented him. On his looks. On his morals. On his character. It’s…it’s a lot. How did Steve never notice before now?

But Tony never flirted. Never outright. Until yesterday. Because he thought Steve was flirting.

Was Tony just waiting for Steve to make the first move, all these years? Was he waiting for Steve to show his own interest? Was he never going to say anything until Steve initiated?

And Steve didn’t even mean to. He just didn’t realise what it sounded like. He’d honestly been thinking that since they were both single they would have time for each other. God, Steve asked Tony out on a coffee date . Steve never goes on coffee dates with anyone that he isn’t already dating or in a relationship with. No wonder Tony thought that he meant it as a romantic date.

Steve just wasn’t ready. He’d never—he’d never thought of Tony like that. So he ran. Real mature, Steve. Freedom, Justice, and emotionally stunted conversations, that’s him. God.

He never thought of Tony like that. But he’s been thinking about it like that for the past day, and it’s worryingly easy to imagine them together. They know so much about each other. They’ve seen the worst of each other, and fought, and still forgiven each other and became friends again. Tony’s one of Steve's longest relationships. He has the rare quality of not being afraid to stand up to Steve. He’s brilliant. He complements Steve, in the best and worst ways.

Not to mention that he’s really, really handsome. Steve can feel his heart beating faster at just the thought. He’s seen Tony turn his charm on, during parties, during missions sometimes. It’s one thing to see Tony deploy his seduction arsenal on his date for the night, it’s a whole different thing to have this burning focus on him. Steve was wholly unprepared for it. Wholly unprepared for how it made him feel, for the short time Tony had his eyes on him, intensely desired. If this is how Tony woos the women he’s interested in, no wonder he’s so popular with the ladies. Steve’s heard his fair share of stories about Tony, some by fellow Avengers. They all say that Tony never leaves a partner unsatisfied. He wonders how Tony would be with a man. How often he’s been with men. And why is Steve thinking about that? They’re in the middle of an invasion, and here Steve is, daydreaming about Tony’s blue eyes. It’s just so unexpected. He can’t get over how much he doesn’t mind the idea of Tony and him.

Steve thought that his bicurious thoughts in his early army days had just been a result of his heightened libido post-serum, and never bothered to explore them more than that. Steve’s never been with a man. He’s felt attraction to a few, but when all your coworkers are gorgeous superheroes, it’s just par for the course. Except now Steve thinks that maybe finding your male teammates hot isn’t really…straight. Tony’s comment, his subtle but unmistakable flirting, has somehow made Steve aware of himself in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. Steve’s too old for this. He thought he didn’t need to think about his sexuality anymore, but he can’t get Tony out of his mind, and his skin tingles at the thought of being with him. It’s as if he’s woken up from a slumber, suddenly desperate to know what it’s like.

He needs to talk with Tony. Now isn’t the time to start anything, but as soon as they’ve dealt with the Skrulls, they can sit down and talk and maybe Steve can see if Tony’s up to taking this further. Steve shivers at the thought. He can’t believe he’s seriously thinking about asking Tony out. He feels as if his brain has been turned upside down since his visit to Tony, and he still hasn’t found the right way up yet. He’s never felt more off-kilter yet simultaneously steady than now.

The more he thinks about it, the more he knows; he wants this. He wants Tony. 

Tony’s dragged out of sleep by the sound of steps coming down the corridor. He blinks, pushes himself up from his painful slump against the wall. His arm is trembling.

He doesn’t know why he even bothers. They’ll come in and drug him more and do whatever they want to him, just like they’ve been doing for who knows how long. Still. The stubborn part of himself that can’t accept defeat keeps him standing. He may be helpless, but he can keep his dignity. Even if he has to lean against the wall.

He stares as Tony Stark walks up to the bars of the cell. Tony doesn’t know which one of the Skrulls it is, because they all look like fucking clones and more like himself than he does, now. His beard is too long, uneven and rough, his hair matted to his skull. He doesn’t have his own clothes on, forced to wear Skrull technology that keeps his body clean, fed, and at the right temperature. He’s tried to rip the ugly purple suit off, but it clings to him like only tech-augmented fabric can, taunting him and his useless mind. He’s lost muscle mass, forced to do nothing, not even able to work out regularly because of the drugs stealing time and strength from him.

He thinks of what they must look like to an observer, the wretched ghost of Tony Stark gazing into the perfect and healthy version of himself. No hair is out of place. He’s switched back to the goatee. It suits him better than the moustache and long hair. Tony wants to punch him in the teeth.

“Hello, Tony,” the Skrull says.

Tony curls his lip.

“I’m not here to take more of your blood,” the Skrull continues. “We have enough already, don’t worry.”

He leans forward, until they’re only separated by a scant few inches and floor-to-ceiling steel bars. Tony has half a mind to try to grab him by the collar and pull him up against them, but the Skrull steps back, as if sensing Tony’s intent. The hatred must be clear enough to read in his eyes. To be honest, Tony’s not sure he has the coordination needed for it anyways. The Skrull appraises him again, from where he’s leaning against the wall now.

“Kl’Riki Dulu’s been causing me trouble lately.”

Oh, it’s Kr’Ali, then. The older Skrull, the one who took Tony’s place first. The one who likes to talk to Tony as if they’re old friends. As if he knows Tony, just because he’s stolen his memories and body. As if Tony knows him. A twisted mirror that thinks that the reflection is the true thing, that thinks that it is anything other than reflected light, that forgets that without the source object there is no image. There isn’t one thought that Kr’Ali could have as Tony Stark that Tony hasn’t thought before. The Skrull coming down here is nothing but a cruel imitation of the echo searching for the voice.

Kr’Ali has deluded himself into thinking they are the same. He complains about the younger Skrull. Complains about Earth. Complains about Tony’s friends.

Tony despises him. He’s Tony’s only link with the outside world. Every time Kr’Ali comes down, Tony learns just a bit more about how everyone is going on without him, how the Skrull shapes Tony’s life and relationships, every bit of good and bad he does in Tony’s name. It’s excruciating to hear about his life being lived without him. 

Kr’Ali continues.

“He’s too young, too impatient. He wants to dive headfirst into using the people around us. He doesn’t understand that we have to be thorough. We have to be insidious. You’re a delicate person to mimic, you know. Everyone expects something different from you. It’s been very interesting moulding myself to those different masks and expectations.”

Tony feels sick.

“Do you know how hard it is to make people forget you’re a genius? It’s taken me the better part of a year, but the seeds have taken root now. I’m just the team’s glorified mechanic. I come up with ideas that don’t always work. They know I’m smart, but they forget just how smart. They forget how good I am at lying. How good we’ve always been. I see into the future, and I make my plans, and no one will see it coming.”

There’s a glint of triumph in his eyes. He’s so sure he’s already won. He thinks he’s fooled them all. It can’t be true. Someone has to see what’s going on. Someone will stop him. The one upside to all the shit that Tony has pulled over the years is that there are always other heroes to keep him in check, who aren’t too trustful. The moment Kr’Ali goes too far, the Avengers will rain down on him. They have to.

The Skrull keeps speaking, unbothered by Tony’s silence, as always.

“Kl’Riki Dulu can’t see it. He thinks I lost myself in you. He’s too focused on the now. He wants instant gratification and doesn’t think before he acts. If it was up to me, I’d have placed him in one of the invasion forces, but he’s in the good graces of one of the higher-ups. All I can do is endure and hope he’ll make the one mistake that will cost him his place on Earth. It might come earlier than I’d feared; just yesterday he did something that might jeopardise the mission entirely.”

Tony can’t help the spark of hope that ignites inside of him. Kr’Ali picks up on it, and for a terrifying moment Tony’s sure that he’ll leave. But something makes Kr’Ali reconsider. He tilts his head a bit. 

“Do you know you’re in love with Steve Rogers?”

Tony reels back. What does that have anything to do with–

“You do, don’t you. I wasn’t sure. You’re so good at suppressing those feelings that it’s been hard for me to sort between what is conscious and what isn’t.”

Tony’s head is spinning, his mind trying to go in twenty different directions at once and failing. He can’t think. He squeezes the bars of his cage so hard his fingers hurt, rasps out:

“What are you doing with Steve. What have you done to him?”

If they’re using Steve to hurt Tony, he doesn’t know what he’ll do, he’ll kill them, he’ll–

“If I have a say in it, nothing. But Kl’Riki Dulu’s gotten it into his head that flirting with Steve is a good idea.”

The Skrulls have flirted with Steve? As Tony? Steve thinks Tony’s flirting with him? In what world is that a good idea? Why would they want to make Steve uncomfortable around Tony? What?

Kr’Ali chuckles.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But somehow, it worked. I’ve watched and rewatched the feed, and Steve’s reaction can only be described as positive, if flustered. I don’t know why, but Kl’Riki Dulu might actually be right. Steve is interested. I almost can’t believe it myself. Steve? Interested in me? It’s too good to be true.”

His face lights up, disbelief warring with cautious joy, and it’s so jarring to see his own face look like that that Tony squeezes his eyes shut. His stomach is roiling. He’s suddenly glad for the intravenous feeding, because otherwise he’d be throwing everything up right now. His body is a mess. It has been a mess for almost as long as he’s been in captivity, but now it wants to feel every possible emotion at once. His blood is freezing to ice in his veins, his back is breaking out in a sweat, and his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. Tony thought that with them playing the long con, they wouldn’t act too much out of character. It’s been his only consolation. That they wouldn't kill or harm people while wearing his face. That they would keep the status quo in his friendships and relationships.

It’s horrible to say, but he’d been guiltily relieved when he learned that the Skrulls had been in a relationship with Patsy Walker. If they had to be with someone , at least it wasn’t someone who he has history with. It’s better than if the Skrulls had tried to make things work with Janet again. Or anyone else on the team. Tony’s aware that he’s being callous towards Patsy, but he’s already living through one of his worst nightmares, and he’s clinging hard to the flimsy threads of hope he has. 

Now, those threads have been shredded.

The Skrulls are flirting with Steve. One of the most important people in Tony’s life. One of his greatest loves. They’re going to ruin everything Tony and Steve have never had. They’re going to destroy everything Steve and Tony could have been, everything Tony never dared to hope for. His body decides which emotion to focus on. Tony drops to his knees, throat convulsing as he retches up nothing more than bile and saliva. 

Kr’Ali takes a small step back, lip curling. He doesn’t like when things are less than pristine. Or maybe he’s disgusted by Tony’s all too human reaction. Who knows. Who cares.

Tony wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at Kr’Ali. Fuck him. He’s ruining Tony’s life. He’s going to ruin one of the few good people that like him. He’s going to betray Steve, to crush his faith in Tony, he’s going to–

“Why?” Tony asks.

Why? He can’t see any strategic advantage to this. Even his drug-slowed mind can see that. They already have Steve’s friendship, why try for more, why risk exposing themselves?

Kr’Ali raises both eyebrows.

“Why do you think? For Kl’Riki Dulu, it’s undoubtedly because of the potential sex. Steve is very attractive, and Kl’Riki Dulu’s made it no secret to me that he didn’t like being with Patsy. Maybe he’s just bored. But for me… I know you, Tony. I am you. I see everything you see in Steve, and I agree. Of all the heroes, he’s the best of you. He’s exceptional. I never thought it could be an option, but after his conversation with Kl’Riki Dulu… He’s interested, Tony. I’m sure of it. This is my one chance. If I can have even just a short time with him, it’ll be worth it. We could be so good together.”

Tony can’t suppress his sound of disgust. The Skrull is delusional. Nothing he does with Steve, nothing he has with him, will be real.

Kr’Ali talks on, uncaring.

“I’ve accepted that I can’t save Steve. He’s too dangerous to keep alive after the invasion is done. I thought I’d have to settle with being his friend, content with the affection he has for you. But it’s more than affection. He sees through us, Tony. He sees past the masks. It’s so simple for him. Did I tell you about what he said to me, when we were fighting Veronica Eden together? He said that he doesn’t like it when I put myself down. That he doesn’t see me as the Tony Stark I show the world. That he just knows me as Tony .”

An intense surge of jealousy stabs through Tony. It’s not fair. He should have been the one to hear those words. Steve gave him a heartfelt declaration of friendship, a thing that happened often when they first knew each other, but has become more rare as time has gone on and Tony has betrayed Steve over and over. A compliment from Steve is one of the most precious things that Tony can get. And he didn’t hear this one. Because Steve was with an impostor. Captain America and Iron Man had their first real duo mission in years, and Tony missed it. 

“If you get closer to Steve, he’ll know you’re not me. He’s too perceptive. You won’t be able to fool him.”

He believes it, he wants to believe it, he hopes it’s true. He doesn’t remember the first Skrull invasion, but every time someone talked about it they said that no one knew who was Skrull and who wasn’t. Except. Except Steve wasn’t around then. He’s always been the best of them. He would have known. He has to be able to know. He’ll figure it out. Kr’Ali and Kl’Riki Dulu will get too close and it will be their downfall. Steve will understand that Tony would never have asked him out. He’ll understand.

On the other side of the bars, Kr’Ali loses the incredulous joy he’d been wearing on his face. He sneers, eyes glinting an alien green for a heartbeat.

“He hasn’t suspected a thing in the year and a half since we replaced you. He won’t start doubting us now. I know him too well. I am too good, Tony. I am you.”

Tony bares his teeth. He’s shaking, his mind is foggy, but he knows this:

“You’re nothing but a mimic. Nothing you do with him will be real. Even if he doesn’t find out, you will know. You’ll never be a human. One day, you won’t even be able to pretend anymore.”

He sees that his words strike truer than Kr’Ali wants to admit. The Skrull likes to talk as if there isn’t an end date to their plans. Either they take control of Earth and reveal themselves, or they get crushed by the Avengers. In neither of these options does Kr’Ali get to keep posing as Tony Stark. 

Kr’Ali is careful about not divulging anything mission critical to Tony, but Tony can read between the lines. The growing friction between the two Tony impersonators and the fact that they took some of his blood recently are small signs that the invasion has reached a new stage. Kr’Ali’s restlessness and concerns about the mission only corroborate it. If Tony’s lucky, it means that the Avengers are aware that there are hostile Skrulls in their midst. He hopes they already have a way to tell Skrull from human. If they’ve got any sense, they’ve contacted Teddy Altman already. These Skrulls are almost certainly a rogue faction that disagree with his rule. He should be notified and bring them to heel.

The second Skrull invasion has started. Regardless of how it ends, Kr’Ali’s days with Steve are numbered.

“I’ll take all the time I can get,” Kr’Ali vows. Tony knows he will. It’s what he would do, were their roles reversed. “I won’t let Kl’Riki Dulu ruin it. He doesn’t deserve Steve. I’m going to make sure that he won’t bother Steve again. Don’t worry, Tony, I’ll take care of Steve. For us. And when the time comes, I’ll be quick. I won’t let him suffer.”

In his twisted mind, Tony and Kr’Ali are one. He probably thinks that Tony is thankful. Thankful that he’ll treat Steve right. That he’ll give him a quick death.

In this world of nightmares, where Tony’s life is led without him, this is the best he can hope for. If they lose. If the Skrulls win. Then Tony will be thankful for Kr’Ali’s promise. 

But they’re not there yet. And in the now, Tony barely keeps a furious scream from erupting from his throat. How dare he talk about killing Steve. How dare he think that he knows how to take care of Steve. How dare he think that he knows what Steve needs.

Tony looks at Kr’Ali, and hates.

In his endless thinking about Tony, the day of their coffee date arrives much too quickly.

He stumbles twice on his morning run because he isn’t paying attention to his surroundings, too busy agonising about what he’s going to wear. He’s aware that he’s putting way too much thought into this. He’s just going on a platonic coffee date with a friend, and they both agreed on that, and yet. Steve mentally reviews his wardrobe. He has a few nice blue shirts, that should be casual enough. He could wear the one with the white star on it, maybe? Or is that too corny? Does Steve even own clothing that isn’t at least vaguely Captain America-themed?

When he’s home again, he still hasn’t decided on which pair of pants he wants to wear, and then the question becomes moot, because the Avengers alarm sounds. Steve supposes it was too optimistic to think that he’d have time for nice things during an attempted alien invasion.

It takes almost an hour for Steve to get there on his bike. It’s not even Skrulls, only a C-tier villain with spectacularly bad timing. Steve isn’t in the mood. The other Avengers on site aren’t in the mood either. The worst part is, the villain won’t stay down. She has an annoying system of shadow clones that spawn seemingly at random and restart the fight whenever the team thinks they’ve gotten her. She manages to evade everything they throw at her, and even though she can’t do any kind of serious damage, it’s extremely irritating. Somewhere above Steve, Tony curses viciously when his repulsor beam tears through nothing. Steve throws his shield at the three clones closer to him. They vanish in puffs of smoke as soon as the edge of the shield touches them. Sometimes Steve hates his job. 

He should have been sitting at a nice terrace right now, talking to Tony. Instead he’s stuck chasing intangible women. What does she even want, apart from random destruction? Is there even a point to any of this? Is the real woman even here, or has she been leading them on a wild goose chase all this time? 

This isn’t working. They need to call in backup. Maybe Wanda’s chaos magic will be able to catch the clones, or maybe Thor will manage to light them all up at once. 

Steve catches his shield on a rebound and jumps atop a car. He opens his long-range comm and hails for Thor. 

Thor is off-world.

The entire team groans, Tony loudest of them all.

“Come on. We don’t have time for this. Miss Clone Jutsu here should be a piece of cake for any of us, but an entire team can’t get a hold of her?”

He sounds pissed off. Is he in such a bad mood because of the missed date? Coffee date. Did he look forward to it, just like Steve? Is he so angry because he feels it too, the spark of possibility?

Or maybe Steve’s getting ahead of himself and Tony’s just annoyed because he hasn’t gotten his morning coffee yet. Get your head back in the game, Steve tells himself. He can’t be this distracted in the middle of a fight. What is going on with him?

Tony shouts something at T’Challa, who quietly disengages from his fight with five shadow clones and vanishes in the shadows of the rubble on the street. They must be having a conversation on a private line. In Steve’s ear, Wanda says she can be there in twenty minutes. 

Just twenty minutes, and then Steve can forget all about shadow clones. He punches one in the chest and steps through it as it dissolves around him, already focused on the next one. Black Panther reappears ten feet in front of him, deadly claws tearing into a shadow clone’s shape. On his left, Black Widow and Phoenix have teamed up to take on a cluster of clones. Steve pauses for half a second, listening for the roar of Tony’s repulsors. He’s moving upwards, hands and feet tucked close to his body. Not for the first time, Steve is reminded of the flight of a missile. When he wants to be, Tony’s as fast and destructive as one. 

When Tony has cleared the top of the buildings, he slows his ascent, until he’s floating, immobile, looking down at all of them. Steve opens their private line.

“Tony, what are you–”

His voice dies out with a hiss when the comm screeches in his ear and goes dead. Feedback noise from the minor supernova that just exploded in the sky. The wave of light hits the street as if in slow motion, but the concussive blast that follows knocks into Steve with enough force to steal his breath. When the light has died out and he can see and breathe again, all the clones have disappeared. The entire street is still, Tony’s armour gradually cooling off from the unibeam release, still floating high up in the air. All the other Avengers are where Steve last saw them, picking themselves up from the ground or lowering their hands from their eyes. There is a body crumpled in the middle of the road. The villain. Steve runs over to where she lies and checks her. She’s unconscious, her breathing shallow. What did Tony do, exactly? And why didn’t he even give the rest of the team a heads-up? Someone could have gotten hurt.

Steve can’t even ask Tony about it, because the comm is still dead in his ear. Instead, he cranes his neck up to watch as Iron Man turns his head to a point in the distance, locks his legs, and jets away. A second later, a sonic boom cracks across the sky. Tony’s gone.

Cleanup is tedious. The villain gets looked over by medics while T’Challa relays the conversation he had with Tony about the specific energy signature needed to dissolve the shadow clones. Steve’s too tired to listen to the details, so he chalks it up to science and keeps lifting cars up on their wheels again. 

Wanda never arrives. Tony must have told her not to bother anymore. Steve’s sure his comms didn’t fry.

It’s weird, though. That he didn’t even stay to make sure the villain was okay. That he released the unibeam without warning the team. That he didn’t touch base with the team afterwards. That he didn’t acknowledge Steve. What could have been so pressing to him that he’d cut the fight short and leave?

Something isn’t right. They haven’t even talked about rescheduling the coffee date. Steve looks at the time: they’ve wasted two hours dealing with the shadow clones and cleanup. Add another hour to get back home, and it’ll be well past 1 pm. Looks like Steve’ll have a late lunch. He pokes at his comm a bit, lets T’Challa fiddle with it. It’s fixed within five minutes. Genius team members sure are handy , Steve thinks as he leaves.

When he’s fifteen minutes out, his comm comes online with a crackle. It’s Hill, on a private line. He answers, wary. Why is she calling him, instead of the current Avenger chair?

“Rogers. We found Reed Richards in a cell on the Lower East Side, along with four other non-super scientists. He says he’s been held for three months. We don’t know yet how the Skrulls fooled our tests, but we’re on our way to apprehend the Reed Skrull right now. I’m betting on the fact that you aren’t a Skrull. If you are, I’m not giving you info that you wouldn’t know in about ten seconds anyway. Hill out.”

The comm goes dead.

Steve stares at the road, mind going a mile an hour. 

Steve was part of the team that tested the Fantastic Four. They all passed with flying colours. Reed wasn’t any different.

The Skrulls have a way of fooling the detector. This is very bad news. They’re back on square one. Did the Skrulls deliberately sacrifice their Natasha impersonator just to give everyone a false sense of security? How can they get past blood tests? Is there a new kind of super-Skrull, even more genetically advanced than what they had to deal with last time? Why did Hill contact Steve? Was it Hill, or was it a Skrull? Can he even trust a single thing of what she’s told him?

He looks in the direction of the Baxter Building. There are CIA helicopters circling it, flashes of light briefly illuminating the windows of the nearby building. Hill probably wasn’t lying to him, then. But that leaves the question about why she would contact Steve. 

Steve thinks.

Facts: The Skrulls know how to avoid the detectors. Reed and other scientists were targeted. Anyone can be a Skrull. Assuming that there isn’t a Skrull mole in Hill’s team, it means that the Skrulls foresaw the kind of testing that would be done. The Skrull impersonating Natasha couldn’t hide its blood colour, nor could the various Fury Skrulls. It must mean that evading detection isn’t simply a matter of advanced biology. They’re cheating the blood tests, then, or messing with the detectors. In both cases: they have smart people on their teams, or access to smart people. Hence Reed and the other scientists. Possibly, every scientist and genius is compromised. Steve isn’t part of that category, which is why Hill decided to warn him. Steve was supposed to meet with Tony today. 

He takes a sharp right. Tony’s brownstone is just two minutes away.

Tony hails his counterpart for the third time in as many minutes, but the line stays resolutely dead. What the hell is going on? First he suits up to answer the Avengers call instead of unloading it on Tony like he usually does, and then he disappears in a hurry and won’t answer any calls. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. 

Tony paces, attention half on the news coverage of the recent Avengers fight, half on the comm in his hand.

His counterpart can’t have decided to complain about Tony’s strategy with Steve to the higher-ups, can he? They were supposed to go on the coffee date today, and Tony was going to flirt some more. Other Tony tried to convince Tony to let him go instead, but Tony said no. He’s the one who got the coffee date, and he’s the one who’ll get to reap any rewards. His counterpart had his fun with Patsy. It’s his own fault for never even trying anything with Steve. 

Did he decide that if he couldn’t have Steve, then Tony wouldn’t have him either? A formal complaint about misconduct would mean that Tony would have to report back to command and drop any kind of undercover work. It’s about the only way for Other Tony to get Tony out of the playing field. But the timing is terrible. The infiltration of the strategic human strongholds is almost done, there isn’t time to deal with administrative squabbles. 

A ping from his communicator slices through his thoughts. Did his counterpart finally get back to him? No, it’s a message from command. 

K’Kaarz compromised. Execute cont.plan B-4. Further instructions to come.

Shit. They got Reed Richards. How did they find out —  nevermind, there’s no time to lose. The humans will probably come for Tony next, now that they know that scientists have been targeted. Tony needs to be fast. He has to take more blood from Tony Stark, have several pouches on his body, as fresh as possible, especially since there are fewer blood bags left than Tony remembers. Only one, to be exact. He could have sworn– No matter. He hastily straps it to the inside of his left elbow. He runs down to the workshop, putting in the necessary sequence into the terminal to remotely activate the purging protocol of Tony Stark’s life-suit. The life-suit pings back at him: process initiated. In five minutes, the bloodstream of Tony Stark will be free of any drugs and other foreign substances, and Tony will be there to draw more blood. Plan B-4 means that the frontal assault will happen in the next few days, and that any means necessary are to be used. He needs to destroy everything in this house that even hints at his allegiance. He can only keep the communicator.  

Tony sets the self-destruct program in motion. The computer will lose everything related to the mission, including access to the life-suit and location of the prisoner. Tony Stark has outlived his usefulness. There’s no need to reactivate the life support functionalities of the suit after Tony’s gotten the blood that he needs. 

He still hasn’t heard back from his counterpart. It’s too late to try to reach him now. If he doesn’t have blood pouches, he’ll just have to stop posing as Tony Stark, and Tony’s life will be easier.

Hope you get caught, fucker, Tony thinks.

He runs back upstairs, the communicator in his hand. He has maybe ten minutes before the CIA rains down on him. If he puts the suit in stealth mode, he should be able to escape their sensors long enough to get the blood he needs and pass their tests.

On the TV, the news has shifted to a live view of the entrance to the Baxter Building, where a team of agents has just broken through the windows of the upper levels. Shit. He needs to get going.

The proximity alert sensors at the door light up, and for a second Tony thinks he’s too late, that Hill is on to him, but a look at the feed shows him it’s Steve. Thank Kly’bn. He’s much easier to fool. Tony just needs to find a good excuse to leave and everything will be fine. Steve might even take Tony’s side against Hill if she comes barging in. He knew that flirting with Steve was a good idea.

He quickly absorbs the Skrull communicator into his thigh, rakes a hand through his hair, and opens the door.

You were at the fight, you left in a hurry because you had a time-sensitive simulation running in the workshop, you’re glad to see Steve and want to reschedule the coffee date , he reminds himself of the story. He only skimmed through the flight logs that his counterpart sent after the end of the battle, but it should be enough.

Steve is in his uniform, tugging his helmet off to reveal his sweaty hair. He closes the door after him as he steps inside. His attention strays to the TV, where K’Kaarz is making a valiant effort to fight the CIA agents and the Fantastic Three at once. Tony gives him two minutes, max, even counting with his enhancements. 

Steve frowns at the screen.

“I can’t believe we didn’t realise Reed had been taken.”

“He must have done something to the detectors, infected it with a virus, maybe,” Tony adds. Steve turns towards Tony, his frown turned pensive.

“You think? We’ll need to use secure detectors then. Do the tests for everyone again.”

Yeah. And they can use the most secure detector in this world, but it’ll still get fooled by the blood pouches. Idiots.

“Can’t say I’m looking forward to getting pricked again,” Tony jokes, “That damn needle is longer than my finger.”

Steve’s mouth quirks up at one corner. He’s fully facing Tony now, his cheeks still pink from the ride, those sky blue eyes searching Tony’s face. He really is gorgeous , Tony thinks. Too bad about the date. 

“Hey, about the coffee, I’m sorry we had to cancel. How about we postpone it to–”

“Are you a Skrull?” Steve interrupts him.

A blink. Tony’s heart stutters in his chest. 

GET YOURSELF TOGETHER , a desperate part of him screams. Shocked. He should be shocked, and betrayed, and incredulous that Steve would ask him that.

“What — no!” He stammers out, breathless. There. Nailed it.

Except Steve’s eyes turn to ice. Tony’s miscalculated.

Fuck.

Here’s one thing that Steve never told Tony: he knows all of his tells. He knows exactly what the infinitesimal twitch of his eyebrow means. He knows how to read the nervous tic in his left nostril. He knows that the tensing of his thigh and the slide of his tongue behind his teeth say the same thing: Tony’s lying.

Steve knows when Tony lies to him. It’s not because of some kind of innate knowledge of his friend. It’s not because he’s known Tony for almost fifteen years now.

It’s because Steve woke up one day, remembered, and vowed never again. It’s because Steve could not let Tony betray him again. It’s because Steve spent months obsessed over making Tony pay for his lies and treachery. Steve was bitter and hateful and too old and weak to destroy punching bags. Instead, he led a manhunt to find Tony and the other traitors, and obsessed over every interaction he’d had with Tony during The Lie. He spent hours and hours poring over video footage of every conversation he had with Tony, watching his supposed friend lying over and over and over to his face. And he catalogued every physical tell, every involuntary language tic, every movement of his eyes. Tony was, and still is, a skilled liar. He’s lied a lot in his life. Steve used to fall for all of them, hook line and sinker. But not anymore. It took him months of single-minded obsession, but Steve knows Tony’s tells now. All of them. And he hasn’t told a soul about it. He certainly hasn’t told Tony. They haven’t spoken about the incursions at all, actually. Steve doesn’t know how to forgive Tony for it, so he pretends to forget instead. Maybe it’s not healthy. Maybe one day they’ll sit down and address the fact that Tony broke Steve’s trust in the worst way imaginable and Steve hunted him down for eight months and beat him to death in answer. Maybe that’s a conversation to have before Steve tries to date him.

Maybe Steve and Tony don’t have the healthiest of relationships. But Steve doesn’t care. They have gone through so much together. They have hurt each other in every way possible. But they come back from it every time. They’re always stronger when they’re together. They’re always at their best. It could be even better, Steve knows, if they dated. It could be even better.

The one thing that always destroys them is the lies. And now Tony can’t lie to Steve anymore, not when it matters.

Oh, Steve can’t catch all of Tony’s lies. The half-truths, the lies by omissions, the ones that are so small that Tony barely sees them as lies himself; all of these go past Steve. If Steve isn’t paying close attention, bigger lies do, too. Tony can lie to him if they’re not in the same room, if Steve can’t see the physical tells. Steve can never hear a lie in Tony’s voice, he’s too good for that. But when Steve wants to be sure that Tony’s telling him the truth, he can check. If they’re face to face, Steve will know.  In a conversation like this one, when Steve has asked a question that Tony has to answer outright? Tony’s an open book to Steve. 

And Tony is, clearly, indubitably, lying. 

Steve lunges.

He’s tackled the Skrull to the ground before it can react. Don’t think , he tells himself, don’t think don’t think don’t think just subdue.

The Skrull lets out a choked gasp, hands coming up to scrabble at Steve’s back. Steve gets a forearm against its throat. He’s stronger.

He jerks his head back to avoid getting his eyes poked out, and it’s enough for the Skrull to twist hard to the side, breaking his balance and sending him crashing to the ground. They roll until Steve’s back collides with the cupboards. It knocks the breath out of him. The Skrull is on top of him, trying to get him into a headlock. Steve thrusts his hips upwards and uses his legs as leverage to dislodge it, pulling its upper body down to the floor. The back of its head connects with the floor with a crack. Its eyes flutter shut. 

Steve rolls it over to its front, panting, twisting its hands up between its clavicles. He plants a knee on the back of its back to make sure it won’t be able to move.

All in all, it took less than a minute. Steve blinks hard, willing his heartbeat to slow. Don’t think.  

He needs to call in the Avengers and contact Hill. The still form underneath him won’t wake up for another few seconds. Steve tears his gaze away. On TV, the Reed Skrull is handcuffed and carried away. In the background, Sue is holding a hand over a wound on her arm, face grim. 

Steve reaches for his comm.

“Hill, I need backup and an untampered Skrull detector.” He sends her his location and waits for her to arrive.

The Skrull groans, stirring. Steve squeezes its wrists tighter, putting enough of his weight on them that the Skrull hisses in pain.

“Don’t move,” Steve snarls at it.

It goes limp in his hold, slowly turning its head until one bleary blue eye blinks up at Steve.

“Steve. It’s me. It’s Tony. Please.”

The wobble in its voice slices clean through Steve’s chest. God. It sounds just like him. He’s hurting Tony. He got it wrong, this isn’t a Skrull, what is he doing.

No , the part of Steve that doesn’t have a heart says. No. He lied to you. He’s still lying. Look at his eyebrow. Look.

Steve closes his eyes tightly for a second. He can’t let it get under his skin. He doesn’t speak.

The Skrull tries again.

“Look at me. Steve! I promise you, I’m Tony. Do the blood test, it’ll come out red. I won’t fight. I’m not fighting you. You scared me, okay? We’ll both do the blood tests and we’ll know it’s just us. We can–we can still go on the coffee date.”

Steve’s eyes go hot. The coffee date. How could he ever believe that Tony was interested in him? He should have known from the moment the Skrull started flirting with him. God. Tony has never expressed interest in him like that. Why would it have changed, and now of all times? Steve got his head all turned around just because the Skrull batted its eyelashes at him. He’s pathetic. He let Tony down. Too busy falling into an obvious ploy to realise that he was being played. God. Where is Tony? When was he replaced by the Skrull? Is he alright?

Steve can never tell Tony about the coffee date. He can’t show Tony how badly he failed him. How could he have thought–? Fifteen years of friendship. If Tony had wanted to, he would have said something. 

Steve was a fool for getting his hopes up.

There’s no point in trying to see if he and Tony can be something more. Tony isn’t interested. The Skrull probably isn’t interested either. It must have been a fun joke, to lead Steve on. Maybe it wanted to see how fast Steve would put out. Bile rises in his throat.

Don’t think , he tells himself again. He pictures the inside of his mind as an ice desert, stretching on and on and on. He doesn’t feel anything, he doesn’t think anything.

Underneath him, the Skrull has gone silent. It knows Steve won’t be swayed.

Five minutes later, Hill is there with a CIA team. They fan out, pointing their guns at Steve and the Skrull. Steve doesn’t move. He keeps his eyes on Hill. 

The Skrull tries to greet her, but Steve lets his weight rest more fully on it, and it wheezes. He’s still holding its wrists tightly. 

Hill cocks an eyebrow and fishes two syringes out of her thigh pouch. She takes a leisurely step forward.

“Isn’t this cozy. Don’t move, honey,” she mocks. And then she strikes. She plunges one syringe into Steve’s neck, the other into the Skrull’s cheek. Just as quickly, she withdraws. It’s a matter of seconds to label the vials and to take blood from her own thigh. She drops all three vials in the detector that an agent puts on the counter.

Under Steve, the Skrull has grown impossibly tense.

The vials roll out of the detector. The one marked TONY is a telltale green colour. 

A ripple goes through the Skrull. It grows, its skin breaking open and bones reshaping themselves into a new configuration. Steve shouts, pressing down harder on its wrists, feeling the shift of muscles underneath his fingers. Hill barks a command. A gun goes off, the sound exploding and reverberating in the confined space. 

The Skrull snarls, dislodging Steve, but its movements are already slowing down. Its shoulder is pierced by a tranquilliser. It staggers to its feet, stumbles, and glares right at Steve. Its eyes are still blue. Its upper lip curls upwards, contempt dripping from its fangs. It bites hard on its tongue, breaking the skin. Blood surges out of its mouth.

Steve stays frozen. Two agents rush to the Skrull, forcing its jaw open, turning its head to the side, clearing its airway. The Skrull goes down. Its eyes roll into its head, and Steve can finally move again, the searing blue gaze gone. He takes a step forward, mind blank. The agents are making sure the Skrull isn’t going to drown in its own blood. A second team is already moving in, no doubt to comb through the entire apartment for any clues about the Skrull invasion force. They probably won’t find anything. Tony’s smart like that.

An agent nudges Steve to the side. He’s standing in front of the cupboards, and she needs to go through them. Steve moves, watching dispassionately as she dumps the mugs on the counter. One of them lands too roughly, and a crack forms. It’s the mug that Steve drank out of two days ago.

He stares at it for a while. Then he turns and walks out of the apartment.

Tony should have gotten a visit by now. His head is clear, and he can feel every small ache in his body. They’ve purged the drugs from his body. Probably due for another blood draw. But it didn’t take this long the last time. Is there something wrong?

He shifts slightly. In the upper corner of his cell, the camera doesn’t move. Its steady red light hasn’t been on since the drug purge started. They’re not watching him. Slowly, slowly, Tony moves. First to his knees, then one hand on the ground and one on the wall, pushing himself up. He’s weak. His body trembles from the cold.

The cold.

He scrabbles for his sleeve. His fingers slide underneath the cuff, meeting no resistance. The Skrull suit he’s wearing has been shut off. His temperature isn’t regulated anymore, there are no microscopic needles injecting nutrients, he isn’t being monitored. 

In all the months he’s been their prisoner, the Skrulls have never shut down their monitoring, not even once. This, coupled with the dead camera, and the absence of Skrulls, can only mean one thing: they won’t come back for Tony. Because they’ve succeeded in the invasion, and don’t need to pretend to be him anymore, or because their monitoring system has been destroyed. Self-destruct, or total annihilation by the forces protecting the Earth?

Which one is the best option for Tony? Destruction by the Avengers means that they know that Tony was taken by the Skrulls. They’ll be looking for him.

Tony doesn’t let himself think about the possibility that everything is too late. If the Skrulls won, Tony can damn well die on his feet instead of wasting away in his cell. No matter what the world looks like right now, he needs to get out of here.

He takes stock. He can string more than three thoughts together. His brain is awake, still not entirely there, but it’s lost the heavy fog that clung to his every thought. It’s almost dizzying, to have so many threads and calculations running in his brain again. He can think clearly again. He can think quickly again. It’s like waking up after a long nap. Already, he can think of three more ways to escape than during his entire captivity. 

As his brain gets into gear, he considers the state of his body. The artificial lethargy from the drugs is gone, but Tony has been chronically sleep deprived and immobile for months. He’s exhausted. At some point, he’ll be too tired to move. A functioning mind won’t do him any good then. Time is of the essence. 

For the first time since Tony woke up in this cell, he’s thankful for the perennial dim lighting. If he’d had to do this in the dark, it would have been much harder. The cell door is nothing special. No electronic lock, of course, because the Skrulls aren’t stupid. A good old-fashioned lock. It was good enough to hold Tony until now, because the drugs fucked with his coordination and his brain was too tired to figure out how to pick it without any tools and without being seen. 

But now, no one is going to bother him, no one is coming. Kr’Ali is gone. Hopefully dead. And if he isn’t yet, Tony will hunt him down. He can’t let him hurt Steve. He’ll kill him if he’s already hurt Steve.

Now that Tony’s mind is not fogged by the drugs anymore, everything comes into sharp definition. Every feeling. He’s going to kill Kr’Ali, and Kl’Riki Dulu, and every Skrull who took his face.

He examines the lock. Nothing out of the ordinary. Should be possible to pick without specialised equipment. The metal itself is too strong for Tony to wrench the lock apart. Same goes for the bars of the cell. The steel is in good condition. No rusting or hairline fractures. Tony glances at the camera again: still dead. 

He takes his time combing over every square inch of the cell. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything from the previous times he did it, but the drugs might have messed with him more than he thought. 

Unfortunately, his examination of the rough floor and uneven walls don’t give him anything. There isn’t any debris within arm’s reach of the cell, either. He’ll have to make do with his body and the Skrull clothing.

His nails are long enough to rip. He files his fingers against the stone floor. When he scratches himself and blood wells up, satisfaction curls in his gut.

He starts feeling along the edges of the Skrull suit. He knows there are wires and small tubes in the fabric. The soles are lined with something rigid enough. He has teeth, and sharp nails, and his aching muscles are trembling with adrenaline and the early stages of drug withdrawal. He has everything he needs to rip his suit open and make a lock pick.

He has maybe an hour before his body shuts down from exhaustion. Every minute will count.

I’m coming, Steve , he thinks. I’m coming.

It’s been two hours since Steve fought the Skrull. As Steve expected, the CIA agents couldn’t find anything in Tony’s apartment. The Skrull destroyed the computer’s harddrive beyond repair. They can’t get anything out of the Skrull either. Steve hasn’t been to the holding cell, but Natasha told him that it cut its tongue so severely it has been rendered effectively mute.

Reed doesn’t know anything about where Tony could be, either. He was drugged for most of the time he was a prisoner, he says. He has a few theories about how the Skrulls managed to dupe the detectors, he says. He’s already neck deep in his lab, working on updating his old portable Skrull detectors. In a few days at most, they should have a new way of detecting Skrulls that doesn’t require blood testing.

Steve doesn’t know if they have a few days.

They’ve been operating on a flawed detection system up until now, which most probably means that the Skrulls have gotten much further in their infiltration than they all thought. For all Steve knows, the Skrulls have already taken control of crucial military locations.

“I don’t have the agents to spare, Rogers. We’re scrambling to test everyone again. I have three potential infiltration attempts in nuclear facilities across the country. We’re at war. This could all be lost in the next hours, and you want to fuck off with ten men and as many Avengers to go spelunking in the sewers? Get your priorities straight,” Hill sneers at him.

Steve shouts. He knows he’s shouting, but he doesn’t care. 

“Tony’s down there! We don’t know what state he’s in, we don’t know when he was replaced, we don’t know anything! I’m not leaving him behind!”

For all Steve knows, Tony is badly hurt, or even–

He can’t fail Tony more than he already has. Who knows how long Tony has been kept, alone and hurting, while Steve was none the wiser. 

Both Natasha and Reed were found in dilapidated underground facilities. The sewers and subway tunnels are Steve’s best bet to find Tony, too. He’s going regardless of what Hill says.

“You’re not in charge here, Avenger. I don’t have the time or manpower to spare. Get out.”

And that’s that. Steve slams the door on his way out of the meeting room, fuming. Screw her. He’ll go alone, then. 

He takes the bike to the place where they found Reed, ignores the agents milling about, and goes from there. There are a lot of tunnels to go through. He doesn’t care. He’ll stay down here for days, if that’s what it takes. He’s not leaving before he finds Tony. 

There are traces of activity here and there. Chairs and take-out boxes and scattered equipment lying about. All left in a hurry, from the looks of it. Steve knows the sign of a hasty change of plans. The Skrulls are probably throwing everything into one last big offensive. The outcome of the invasion will be decided soon. 

The superheroes can deal with the Skrulls without Steve. He’s going to find Tony, and damn anything else.

He keeps searching. He walks in the tunnels for what feels like hours. In his ear, the Avengers comm pings with increasing frequency. He tunes it out. 

At a crosspoint, he stops and listens. Still no sound. He hasn’t met anyone, prisoners nor Skrulls. There aren’t even any rats here. He switches off his torch. In the corridor to the left, a faint glow reflects against the damp walls. He goes left. 

There’s not much use trying for stealth, not when his every move makes the water slosh audibly around his ankles. So he runs, shield held high in front of him. 

He emerges into an open conduct. There is enough space for an elevated platform, dry above the water, with a cage in its centre. Something moves inside of it.

In three jumps, Steve is in front of the door. Tony’s wide eyes stare at him from the other side of the bars. He’s here. Thank God.

Steve spares a quick second to look at the lock, but he doesn’t have the patience to try to bypass the code, so he takes a deep breath and wrenches the rusty bars apart instead. The screech of the metal giving way echoes in the tunnel. He doesn’t stop until the gap is wide enough for Tony to pass through. His arms are aching, but he doesn’t even feel them, too caught up in drinking in the sight of Tony. He’s okay.

Tony stumbles into his arms, trembling. 

“Steve,” he rasps. 

He’s filthy, his hair in disarray, his goatee overgrown, but he’s moving freely, no sign of injuries or mistreatment on his body. Steve has never been so glad to see him. He found him. He didn’t let Tony down. His throat closes up. He came so close to losing him, without even knowing. He came so close to betraying Tony. But he didn’t. He saw the lie.

Who would have known that an obsession from some of the darkest months of Steve’s life would save them? The only good thing that came out of Steve’s hate from that time.

Tony smiles at Steve, eyes clear and blue and right. He’s looking at Steve as if he can’t believe his luck. God, Steve almost failed him so badly. Steve has been a terrible friend. He’ll be better from now on. He promises. 

He wraps his arms tighter around Tony, indulging in the hug.

Tony smells like sewer and the clothes he’s wearing have seen better days. But he’s not hurt, and he’s as solid as ever in Steve’s arms.

“I came for you as soon as I knew, I’m so sorry,” Steve chokes out. If only he’d paid better attention. If only he hadn’t let his emotions cloud his judgement. It was so obvious.

Tony shakes his head. 

“You found me. That’s all that counts. Thank you.”

Steve doesn’t deserve Tony. Tony doesn’t know what Steve almost did. 

He lets his eyes wander over Tony’s face. God, but he’s beautiful. Steve wants to push the loose strands of hair out of Tony’s face.

“What day is it?” Tony asks. How long has it been, he doesn’t say.

Steve tells him, heart in his throat. Please, let it have been a short time. 

Tony ducks his head, runs a hand through his hair. 

“Two weeks.”

Two weeks. Two weeks ago, Judgement Day was just over. Steve had visited Tony a few days before. Two weeks ago, Tony didn’t flirt with Steve and Steve didn’t know that he was attracted to Tony. Two weeks ago, Steve didn’t almost date a Skrull. 

A lot can happen in two weeks. 

Thank God it wasn’t longer. It could have been so much worse. It could have been months. It could have been before their joint mission against Eden. Steve lets himself breathe out, the knot tied around his heart easing just a tiny bit. 

“I’ll catch you up,” he promises Tony, “you didn’t miss anything important.”

“The Skrull?” Tony asks. There’s something wary in his eyes. Is he afraid of what the Skrull could have done in his name? Afraid that he hurt people? Steve hurries to reassure him.

“It didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done. It just tried to fit in.” Steve doesn’t mention the flirting. It would only hurt Tony. 

“I took it down,” he adds. He doesn’t miss the glint of vindictive satisfaction in Tony’s eyes.

“Good riddance,” Tony sneers. Steve agrees. 

In his ear, the Avengers alarm goes off. All hands on deck. Steve and Tony stare at each other. The time for the tearful reunion has passed. They disentangle. Have they really been hugging all this time? That’s not entirely platonic, is it? Get a grip, Steve, he isn’t interested like that , he scolds himself. It’s just–he can’t go back to how it was before. When he was unaware of what he felt for Tony. But he can’t mention it to Tony either.

It will pass, he tries to convince himself. The Skrull just confused him. It will pass. He has Tony. They’ve been friends for fifteen years, they don’t need anything more. They don’t.

“Come on,” Steve says, “let’s suit up.”

Tony’s answering smile is like the sun peeking through the clouds.

“I won’t say no to a change of clothes. There’s a frankly alarming patch of mould on my tie, and my dress shirt is more green than white by now.”

Steve grins. 

Good old Tony.

In the basement of an abandoned building, the lock on Tony Stark’s cell door opens with a click. Tony stumbles out of his cell, one hand bloody, teeth chattering. There are stairs right in front of him, light pooling on the top step. He walks forward and climbs up.