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It had been an innocent comment, really, that had Steve’s mind rolling with unease. He couldn’t shake the conflicting thoughts and emotions it had brought about, no matter how much he tried to convince himself there was nothing there.
He’d been sitting in the kitchen one day, eating a light breakfast after his morning workout, when Clint walked in for some coffee. They greeted each other easily, like any other day, and sat together for a long while in silence. And then, just as he was done drinking his orange-juice, Steve’s phone beeped. He glanced at it. It was a message from Tony Stark. Come by the workshop when you’ve got time, I gotta show you something.
“Hey, Cap.” Clint had said, distracting Steve as he got to his feet. “I gotta say… I can’t believe Stark got all sugar-daddy on you.”
“Excuse me?” Steve asked, frowning. He wasn’t sure what Clint had meant by that.
Clint just gave him a long look, then shook his head and waved his hand at him. “Never mind.” He said, sipping his second coffee to stop himself from saying any more.
Steve stared at Clint for a moment more, then shrugged. He set his dishes in the sink and turned to leave, pocketing his phone. Since he had no particular plans for that day, he decided to head for Tony’s workshop. Whatever it was he wanted to show Steve, it must’ve been good, because Tony seemed excited.
“So what is it?” Steve asked as he entered the workshop. Tony was sitting at one of his workstations, drawing up blueprints for something.
“Oh Cap, that was quick. Look at this.” Tony said, dropping his pencil and getting to his feet. He was gesturing towards one of the walls as he approached it, and Steve walked over too. There was a large instrument that resembled a punching bag laying flat next to the wall.
“Is that a punching bag?” Steve asked with a raised brow. They both got to the wall at about the same time, and Tony crouched next to it. A panel was flipped back at the bottom, and Steve realized it had to have been modified somehow.
“I heard you’re an expert at killing punching bags, Cap, so I designed this robotic super-durable punching bag for you.” Tony said as he pressed a button and flipped the cover closed again. The bulk jerked once, then sprang up-right with a jolt of what Steve could only assume were micro-repulsors built in along the ends of the thing. “You’re gonna do the quality testing on this. It’s for Stark International business, you see.” Tony was practically grinning at Steve, who was staring, awed, at the robotic thing as it hovered next to them. “Go on, give it a punch.”
“You sure it won’t break?” Steve asked hesitantly. It looked like Tony had put a lot of effort into making it, and Steve would hate to throw so much work down the drain, but Tony just shook his head and slapped his shoulder easily.
“Even if it breaks, it’s all part of the testing period for the product. Go right ahead and try.”
So Steve did, because there was logic to what Tony had said, and if he could save everyone the effort of getting new ones whenever he ruined them, it would be one less thing to worry about. The punch hit true, and the whole thing exulted at it, whirred and turned.
“What do you know, he liked it.” Tony said, still grinning. “You can take ‘im to the gym and have fun with it. If there’s anything you want to adjust, just let me know.” he said, then walked back to his desk to continue where he’d stopped. Steve looked at the man’s retreating back, then at the new robotic punching bag, which gave a quarter spin when it was under Steve’s gaze.
—-
That evening, Steve was unable to relax. He’d done his share of workout that day, and recreational stuff. He even managed to get some anatomy-practice done earlier. Still, as he was done with all that, and not being the kind to enjoy pointlessly watching television, he turned on his computer and stared at the screen. What was it that Clint had said? Sugar daddy?
The internet affirmed Steve’s suspicions. It was exactly what his fuzzy memory had suggested it was. An older man giving a younger woman (or man, this was the 21st century, after all) expensive gifts, and in return, she’s expected to give him attention, her time, maybe more? Steve shook his head and pulled back from the station. There was only one rich guy at the Avengers Mansion, and Steve was not an idiot. He knew what Clint had meant, but he’d never seen any of the stuff Tony provided him with as gifts, even though they really were.
One time, he remembered, early on, Tony had introduced him to a modified motorcycle he’d made for him. His own old motorcycle was nowhere to be seen in the garage, and Tony had, upon seeing what Steve was looking for, simply said, “I happened to upgrade your motorcycle.” To which Steve was so close to reply angrily, but Tony must’ve mistaken it for gratitude, because he held his hand up to shut him up. “I had some time to kill.” He’d said, “No biggie.”
And then, after a couple of months, when Steve came back from a mission, he found his room had been entered when he was away, and when he opened the closet, it was full of new clothes. On the closet door, he found a note saying, “Your wardrobe was making me cry, so I got you some shirts and pants, Stevie. — T.S.”
How Tony had known his measurement was easy enough to figure out. It had been Tony who’d helped modify and remodel his old uniform, after all. Still, it had been kind of odd, but he shrugged it off for a friendly gesture. This wasTony’s mansion he was living in, and Tony was sort of eccentric.
Another time, Steve was led by an enthused genius into the media room. “There’s this new genre of music I found when I surfed YouTube the other day.” He said, tampering with the surround system. “It’s called Electro-Swing.” and when Steve raised an eyebrow, Tony’d sighed around a chuckle. “That’s basically Swing music, but for the new kids. Wanna listen?” And who could say no when Tony was beaming at him like he’d just found the Best Thing Ever?
If he had to think back to it, there were other instances where Tony basically lavished him with this sort of stuff, some more obvious than others. There was that one time, for example, when Tony introduced him to his new work room. It was a well lit room with a large window, a sofa, a chair, a light table, an easel and a couple of fresh canvas sheets, drawers upon drawers of drawing and painting equipment, and several shelves of anatomy references, landscape examples and other inspirational textbooks. Steve remembered being so dumbfounded by this at the time, that Tony had actually sounded hesitant when he tried to explain. “Uh… Pepper told me you’ve been sketching around the Mansion, so here’s some art stuff, because the Avengers should have the best, am I right?”
Steve laid down on his bed, facing the ceiling as he continued to search his memory for instances where Tony acted like… like… Steve closed his eyes at the thought. The art stuff had been expensive, for sure, but there were other things, like that time Tony had gotten him a collector’s version of the Brooklyn Dodgers’ hat. Even for Tony, this had been very close to crossing some kind of line. He’d scratched the back of his head and said, “I was dragged around town with Pepper because she wanted to look for something for her mom, and I saw this old Brooklyn Dodgers hat.” And he handed it over like it might bite him if he held onto it for much longer. Steve took it, surprised, “Thought you might like it.” Tony had then said, before taking two steps back, turning on his heels and leaving his room.
But really, Steve insisted with himself, just because Tony was a good friend who made sure Steve was comfortable and had everything he needed, didn’t make him a sugar daddy, did it? It’s not like Steve correlated the so-called gifts he’d received with the amount of attention he’d given Tony. For all he cared, his friendship with the man had nothing to do with money, or gifts. He’d taught him how to fight, he’d gone to several games with him, they’d done more than a fair share of avenging together, but surely that was all it was, right?
Of course, if he didn’t connect it to the rest of the occurrences, then the new and improved punching bag would just be ‘one of those things Tony does for his friends’, but Clint, damn him, had made him think about it.
We need to talk.
Oh my God Steve, can you maybe not use cheesy lines like that? I feel like you’re gonna break up with me.
Just let me know when you have time.
It may have been Steve’s lack of response to Tony’s teasing that had the genius knock on his door not half an hour later. It was a refreshing change, because Steve was starting to get used to Tony just barging in whenever he felt like it.
“Tony?” He asked when he opened the door to see the man standing there. “What’s wrong?” Because it basically looked like Tony had pulled himself from under one of his cars, not bothering to change or to do anything about his appearance. His work clothes were stained and he had grease all over his hands. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping enough, Steve wondered absently, marking the faint black circles around Tony’s eyes. “… It wasn’t urgent, you know.”
“I know, I know.” Tony said, waving a hand, “Can I come in?” He asked, peering around Steve into the room. Steve simply moved out of the way to allow it, and Tony stepped into the room, found a chair and slumped into it. “Talk.” Tony said after a moment of quiet, and when Steve continued to stare at him, he shook his head. “You said we needed to talk, Steve. Here I am. Talk.”
“Are you drunk?” Steve asked, frowning, but Tony made an irritated sound and shook his head. “Okay then. uh…” there was some hesitation, because how do you even bring something like this up with your best friend? Your best friend who gave you a new home, and somewhere to belong, and clothes, and a motorcycle, and so much more… “Someone’s mentioned this to me earlier, and it got me thinking.” Steve said, occupying himself with putting order to his things. “And now I’m curious about this.” And a bit troubled, but he wasn’t going to say that to Tony, who’s face was switching expressions faster than those Saturday morning cartoons switched frames.
“You’ve given me so much. You still do. This place, my clothes…” He paused glancing at a sketchbook. “drawing materials, books. You even upgraded my motorcycle!” And it seemed like Tony was starting to get it, but Steve carried on. “That punching bag this morning, which still needs some work on stabilizing after a punch, by the way.” He shook his head. “I can understand some of these, but… I’m not sure how to make sense of the others.”
“Why? It’s simple. You take care of me out there, don’t you? I never asked you why you throw your shield at my enemies. Why are you asking me about these things? I gotta look out for you, Steve. I thought that was obvious…” Tony said, looking… deflated, in a way.
“You do look out for me.” Steve answered, watching Tony almost sternly. “Out there, in battle, it’s different. We have each other’s backs because we’re a team, and that’s how teamwork is done.” Steve said, sitting on the edge of his bed, still looking at Tony. “And a place to stay, clothes to wear… I can understand that to be a sort of extension to that, but… Tony. My bike was fine before you upgraded it.”
“You don’t like it?” Tony asked, startled as he looked at Steve. “Is it not working right?”
“It’s working great, and I do like it, but I’m saying… You didn’t need to fix it. And you didn’t need to get me a Dodgers hat, or a new punching bag.” And Tony seemed almost wounded by this, so Steve had to add, quickly, “Not that I didn’t like any of those, really. I do appreciate them, I just… Don’t understandwhy.”
“Well, you wouldn’t.” Tony shrugged. Steve’s back straightened at what he felt to be an insult. “It’s not like I have extra time on my hands, you know.” He said, and Steve nodded his head shortly, that was exactly why he’d asked, in the first place. “I just do things I enjoy doing because I like doing them, and I wanted to make you happy-” Tony was saying, then he blinked and covered his mouth with his palm, leaving black marks on his cheek. Steve, on his part, didn’t move a muscle. He stared at Tony for a moment, bewildered, trying to make sense of what Tony had just said combined with that reaction.
“I mean..” Tony said, after a long moment of silence, “I mean it.” He finally concluded, waving his hand in a vague gesture. “I do want to make you happy, Steve. Do you understand?” He was trying to maintain eye contact with Steve, but it was not an easy thing to do under this tension. “Because I- Because I like you.”
The silence after this was so profound, Steve could hear someone slamming the drawer in the kitchen clearly. He stared at Tony. It was exactly as Clint had thought it was, wasn’t it? But Tony probably didn’t even see what was wrong about it. “So you bought me expensive gifts.” He said, squaring his shoulders. “Like you could buy my attention with money.”
“What?” Tony asked weakly. He’d never seen it that way, really. It was the only way he ever knew how to show affection. “It wasn’t like that-“
“When you didn’t need to do any of this for it.” Steve said over Tony’s words, making Tony’s mouth snap shut. “You’re an idiot, Stark.” Steve said.
“Wait hold up. Could you repeat that? I think I missed something there… Like the part where you… Did you just say you like me too? In your Captain-America-Doesn’t-Need-Gifts kind of way?” He asked, and when Steve gave him a faint smile, followed by a brief nod of the head, he grinned right back at him. “You gotta admit the bike was awesome though.”
“It was, but that’s besides the point, Tony. You can’t buy people’s affection, you gotta earn it another way.” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest, though he was still smiling.
“Oooh I can show you things-“
“I don’t even want to hear it. Sex is not a proper way to earn affection either. It’s just…” Steve trailed off, then sighed, “a form of expression of affection.” He relented, and the way Tony’s grin turned toothy made him shake his head. “And no, you may not express your affection to me right now. Let me take you out for dinner. We’ll see how it works…?” He asked, raising a brow.
“A dinner with Captain America. Score. Fair enough.” Tony agreed, his grin dialed down to a more easy, lazy smile, which looked really odd with how dirty and over-worked the man looked. “But let me know some time in advance because this-” He pulled at his dirty shirt, “is not gonna look good on a date.”
“I will, don’t worry.” Steve said, scratching the side of his head. He didn’t want Tony to fall into his old habits, the way he became a performer when he went out in public. “But don’t dress up too fancy.” He requested. He wasn’t sure how this sort of thing worked, these days. Was he supposed to do or say something now, or were they just going to pretend like they didn’t just have this conversation until they actually went on a date?
“We’ll work something out.” Tony said, and Steve looked at him, surprised. “About the clothes, I mean.” He tried to clarify.
“I don’t want your press-persona.” Steve blurted out suddenly. Tony raised an eyebrow, looking half amused, half confused. “I… I mean. We’ve known each other for a while, right? I get to see you like this.” He gestured at Tony, as though to indicate ‘dirty and insomniac’. “That’s what I… What I like. That’s what I want.”
Tony was sure he wasn’t going to be able to get the smile off his face after that. “Anything you want, Steve. It’s yours.”
——————————————————————————————
After-Credits-Scene-
Late at night, two figures made their way up from the garage to the kitchen to catch warm milk and tea before they would each go to their own room for the night.
When Clint walked in to grab a glass of juice, he found the two standing by the microwave, where Steve was heating his cup of milk. It didn’t take an especially perceptive man to see how rumpled Steve’s shirt was, or the faint redness that lingered on his lips, or even the wide, stupid grin that Stark had on his face as they talked in hushed voices.
“Hi!” Clint said, declaring his presence. The two started, but turned to him with exasperation on their features. Tony grabbed his tea and waved goodnight to both of them before departing, leaving Clint and Steve alone. The microwave beeped.
“Well well well, Cap.” Clint teased, and Steve chewed his cheek absently as he pulled the milk out of the microwave.
“I guess I should thank you.” Steve finally said, glancing at Clint as he turned to take a sip of the warm drink.
“No problem, Cap.” Clint said with a wink, then chuckled when Steve nearly choked on his drink.