Chapter Text
Tony had spent weeks thinking over a certain revelation he’d had. It made no sense to him. He had wondered what the hell that fuzzy little feeling was, looking at El Capitano, trying to piss him off just to see that well kept composure crack a little, messing with him whenever he could. The rivalry had turned into obsession had turned into this burning ache that seemed to fester within him every passing moment.
He had to tear his eyes away at debrief meetings, try his best to go unnoticed, his once instinctive quips and pranks becoming thoroughly calculated as to not give away his little secret. He knew he was being absurd, he shouldn’t care this much. Tony had gay friends. He had gone through all the bullshit his Dad had taught him and rid himself of any stupid biases, but it was just different when it was himself. His currently at-best-rocky relationship status with Pepper wasn’t helping either, at least not with his at-best-fragile masculinity.
Tony stared at the floor of the shower, feeling like a moody teenager again. The water was scalding, but he didn’t have the energy to turn the knob slightly right to cool it down. Part of him felt like this was what he deserved for all the greedy thoughts swimming in his head.
He wanted to drink.
Images flashed through his minds eye again. Damn you, Steve Rogers, and your perfect hands and super soldier body and chiseled jawline. Tony groaned audibly. Yeah, he was definitely going to need a drink. Tony was gonna distract himself with a beautiful woman tonight, maybe even multiple. He’d get all this pent up horndog energy out of his system and then he’d be perfectly fine.
He clambered out of the shower, shaking the water off like a dog and then violently drying his hair off with a towel he grabbed off the rack haphazardly. He wrapped it around his waist and strutted right out of the bathroom without a care, making a beeline to the kitchen where his phone was. He called up Pepper. Always her.
“Hey, D’you think you could organize a little party at the tower? Please? I need this.” Tony worried at his bottom lip, the conversation making for a perfect distraction. He heard an audible sigh come through the receiver.
“…fine. I’ll get it together. But you’re not getting wasted, promise me.” Pepper huffed out. Tony rushed into his response.
“Yeah, yep, totally. You got it, Peps. I’ll drink so little you won’t even realize I’m drunk,” Tony paused, “…just make it like… you know, a little Avengers celebration, or something. Cuz we’re doing so great.”
“Yeah, okay. Easy enough.” Pepper hung up the phone, and Tony was left standing practically naked, still plagued with thoughts about his male coworker.
Of course, Tony rarely kept promises.
Another stark tower sexfest in an effort to drown his problems in expensive whiskey, another girl on his shoulder that he was sluggishly trying to nudge away in his drunken stupor.
He kept staring at the fireplace, feeling like his body might sink into the sofa below, his vision wobbly as he tried to blink away the woman at his side. People were trailing out hours and hours into the night, Pepper doing him another solid and chasing the most of them off. Still, this dumb blonde he didn’t remember ever talking to that night was glued to his side, unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t like it like he thought he would. She was pretty, sure, but she was just annoying him. He wanted to sleep. Or drink more, who knows. He was just tired of all this… flair. Shocker, I know. Tony usually never got tired of flair. His whole life was flair.
Tony pawed at her aimlessly, trying to push her off with limp arms. He gave the occasional weak grumble and whine every once in a while, brow furrowing as she managed to get his shirt open. His breathing was heavy, labored. A figure appeared in his vision, getting closer, he made out blue smudges and a strong frame. He ogled it with awe you’d only see in a little boy’s eyes. They flashed with recognition when he realized what (or who) it was.
“Cap… mmmmhhhhhhgh… ha..hg..hey, hah, hahaha-!” He giggled, blinking multiple times in an effort to see right again. “Steve. Hgh.. hey. Hi. Reeeaaal good seein’ ya…” he smiled wide up at him. He couldn’t quite make out the expression on Rogers’ face. He’d forgotten why he hadn’t wanted to invite Steve, he felt so happy to see him again.
“Hey, Tony.” Steve sighed, shooing the girl away.
“Oh my g… god… you saved me from her. Oh my god.” Tony stared up, looking a little more than infatuated. Led Zeppelin was playing softly in the background. Whole Lotta Love was definitely the best soundtrack for this. He was still splayed out on the couch.
He pushed himself up with newfound determination, although unfortunately he seemed to be possessing the legs of a newborn foal. He was so stumbly, he looked down at his shaky legs and frowned, attempting to take a step towards Steve. He practically fell straight into him. But Tony wasn’t complaining.
“Woah, you need to- slow your roll, buddy-“ Steve caught him. Strong arms. Finally, Tony got a good view of his face, and it was crazy. All of a sudden he couldn’t stop looking. And they were so close together.
“Captain America, you’re- rea… really somethin’.” He mumbled, eyes searching Steve’s for something. He didn’t know what it was.
Tony put in marginal effort to pull Steve back down onto the couch with him, since the world was still spinning everywhere. He couldn’t stay up for long. Steve went down willingly and Tony stared, and stared, and stared. Steve’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He just stared cluelessly. His Bambi eyes were wide and glassy and entirely unaware. For all the brains he had in that huge head of his, Steve sometimes wondered how he could be so thick skulled.
“Wha-?” Tony squinted, as if that would help him hear somehow.
“You keep avoiding me. Why is that? I mean, we’re friends, right?” Steve is looking at him with concern in his eyes, and some genuine worry. It’s stabbing right through Tony’s alcohol-soaked heart. He has a lot of ideas for things he’d be doing right now if movement wasn’t such a chore. Like kissing away the crease in Steve’s brow. Kissing him in other places, too. Maybe trying to rip his dumb button up right off. Tony’s face was burning, he told himself it was the liquor.
“I dunno,” was the only whispered and meager excuse he could manage to get out. He was entranced. He felt a little like a massive idiot. A wave of exhaustion passed over him, and he tried to blink it away. The blinking hasn’t been working out for him like he hoped it would. “I think I might throw up.”
Tony didn’t know when he had been brought to the bathroom. He was vomiting into a toilet with a warm hand on the back of his neck and a sturdy arm holding up his body. He heard Cap mumble something about alcohol poisoning.
And then he blinked and he was somewhere else again. Back on the couch, body leaned up against a person, probably Cap. Steve’s shoulders were tense. Nervous. Tony could barely move his body, much less try to think. It was easier to go along with everything instead of trying to regain his pride. he didn’t care about his pride anymore, this was better.
He pressed his way slightly further into Steve’s bicep, and swore he could feel him nearly flinching away. Maybe just a little bit shaken up by Tony’s secret perpetually touch starved side that he usually kept hidden. It only came out when he was very, very drunk, like tonight. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, barely registering the arm that wrapped around his shoulders and gently but firmly tugged him closer.
Waking up was a nightmare of nightmares. He ached all over. And what’s worse is he remembered parts of the night.
He was mostly expecting it all to be forgotten, but of course, he had to be aware of all the regrettable things he did. Like having Captain America hold him up and toy with the hair at the nape of his neck as he vomited into a toilet. He rolled over stiffly, shoving his face into a pillow and groaning. He shut his eyes tightly.
“…Jarvis… tell Pepper to get me an Advil…” he grumbled, hardly able to bring himself to move his body further.
A robotic voice spoke through the speakers in his room. “Sir, she left some on your bedside table.”
He huffed. “Thank you…” his morning voice was stained with alcoholic regret.
He managed to haul himself to the edge of the bed just enough to swipe the Advil and the water. He popped the pill as quickly as possible, sputtering as he tried to drink the water still lying on his back. He couldn’t bear to sit up right now. The glass landed back on the table with a thud, and Tony curled up in his bed again.
Steve was gone, thank god. He could at least be grateful that he left him in his bed instead of on the couch, but if he thought about it for too long he’d start thinking about Steve carrying him around like a damsel in distress, and however shamefully, it made him feel. He hated it.
He also hated how he could still taste a small amount of lip gloss on his tongue, sickeningly sweet. Probably from that girl who was trying to nail a 50 beers deep Tony who could barely move his limbs. He actually felt even sicker remembering that. Tony curled in on himself further. “God fucking damn it.”
He missed Steve.
He couldn’t really admit it to himself, he didn’t want to. But he had liked having him there a lot more than any of those women at the party. He’d liked having him there more than any of the other Avengers. It was just so weird, so unnatural.
It was three in the afternoon before Tony could get himself up. He was too busy wallowing. The Advil had worked well enough, even if every body part was still slightly sore.
He went to the meeting looking like more of a wreck than usual, and this time he couldn’t even bring himself to spare Steve a glance. He didn’t want to look at him. There was no teasing, no interruptions from him half way through Nick Fury’s speech, and immediately the others could tell something was off. God, it was like they could smell it on him. He left without a word and went down to his lab.
“Sir, your heart rate is increasing at an alarming rate,” Jarvis blurted. Tony swore under his breath.
“Mute.” He mumbled, head hitting his desk. He shot right back up as a familiar voice sounded behind him.
“Tony.” Steve greeted. He sounded formal as ever.
“Capsicle! Didn’t see you at the party last night.” Tony plastered his regular smirk across his face, trying to play everything off as he spun around in his chair. “Well, I don’t really remember much, so maybe I did,”he shrugged. “Had a terrible morning.” He turned back to his desk, pretending to be entirely put together as Steve pulled up a chair right next to him.
“You were completely wasted. I think you’ve got a drinking problem,” he commented, watching Tony scroll across a holographic screen and then lean down to tinker with what looked like a metal scrap as if he understood anything Tony was doing. As if he understood anything he ever did.
“Oh, yeah, thanks for that, Sherlock.” He chuckled.
“What’s that?” Steve eyed the chunk of metal.
Tony glanced up before quickly opting to never look at Steve ever again. Too handsome for his own good. He focused all of his attention on his work. “Parts for my latest suit model. Still all prototypes, but it’s something.” Steve just nodded along. It was an unbearable hour of butterflies in his stomach, of Steve watching him while he worked on his suit.
It was days later when Steve showed up at Tony’s room. Tony had woken him up with his stumbling.
“Steve! You. Hi.” Drunk again, sitting on the couch, downing a wine glass filled to the brim with whiskey neat. “Come here, come.” Tony beckoned Steve over.
“Why are you… drinking alone at midnight?” Steve squinted in the light of Tony’s room, shutting the door behind him and walking up to the couch. His eyes widened as Tony grabbed him by the shirt and used it as means to pull himself up.
“Hey. I just… got bored.” He was such a terrible liar while drunk. Steve almost laughed.
“You got bored?” He huffed.
“Yeah. I miss you,” Tony said casually, their faces inches apart once more. Steve scoffed.
“Man, do you always get like this when you’re hammered?” He cracked a small smile.
“Only with you.”
Steve’s smile faltered slightly. “You’re being drunk and strange.”
Tony’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt tighter. “Shhh. Shut up.”
“Tony, let go—“
Steve was interrupted by a fist in his shirt pulling them closer and closer together until their lips finally met. Steve didn’t kiss back, just stood in shock as Tony pressed their faces together in a somewhat uncoordinated manner. He was a clumsy kisser, which made sense considering he was piss drunk.
Steve almost let himself start to enjoy it before he pushed Tony away. He looked apologetic for it.
“Wh…” Tony chased him, brow furrowed and doe eyes confused. He chased Steve’s lips on instinct.
And then Tony froze, like a slightly sobering half-baked epiphany had hit him. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face and sitting down again. “Sorry. ‘M stupid. That was so stupid,” Tony berated himself as Steve stood, still bewildered, watching his drunk friend stutter and mumble to himself. He didn’t know what to do.
And then after a moment of silence, Tony started crying. It was barely noticeable, not a breakdown by any means, but when someone has their face in their hands and you can make out the occasional tremble of their shoulders, it’s not hard to put the pieces together.
Tony sniffled, leaning back on the loveseat. He dropped his hands and turned his head to the side, trying not to look at the man standing over him. He sighed, tugging loosely at the collar of his shirt that was beginning to feel too tight.
Steve did nothing, he just stood idiotically. He was at a loss. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, he couldn’t help but wonder, was it normal for close friends to kiss? He didn’t think the two of them were that close anyway. He still knew hardly anything about this modern world, and he didn’t want to hurt Tony with any reaction he might get wrong.
He sat down next to him gingerly and met his eyes. “…why did…” he started, then stopped again. Steve huffed, staring at Tony’s reddened cheeks and wide, teary eyes. He opted to shut up.
The two of them just watched each other. They weren’t touching, and somehow that made the tension escalate.
“What’re you d-doing?” Tony mumbled out.
“You should go to bed. You’re tired,” Steve glanced away. Breath catching as Tony grabbed his shirt again. He flinched, but didn’t get up.
“I want to do it again.” Tony sniffled, tugging on Steve’s shirt. His speech was slurring.
“No, you’re just drunk. You’re drunk, Tony. Please, go to bed.”
“…carry me.” He cracked a stupid smile.
Steve didn’t say anything back, just stood up and hauled Tony into his arms. He carried him back to his bed and put him down.
“You should stay,” Tony offered.
Steve shook his head. “That’s the last thing I should do. Get some sleep, alright?” He ruffled Tony’s hair, getting a quiet chuckle out of him. Tony swatted limply at the hand.
Steve left with shaky hands and guilt tightening in his gut.