Work Text:
Tony may not be quite the hedonist that the tabloids make him out to be, but he'll admit that he has never much been in the practice of denying himself either. He’s lived a life full of grand adventures (life-threatening and otherwise), opulence and indulgence, wild parties and beautiful people. He has indeed experienced no few pleasures in his life, many of the sort that most people are only privileged enough to dream about.
None of those delights could hold a candle to the feeling of waking up in the morning with Steve Rogers asleep beside him.
Steve’s arm is slung loosely over his waist, and Tony shifts, carefully, to prop himself up for a better view. Steve is stretched out on his stomach, loose-limbed, with one side of his face smashed against a pillow. Fine strands of golden hair fall across his forehead, and Tony can’t resist putting out a hand to smooth the hair back, revealing the softness of Steve’s features, his long eyelashes and gently parted lips.
They press together on a sharp intake of breath, and Tony looks up to see bright blue eyes watching him from under the lashes he had just been admiring.
Idiot, Tony mentally chides himself as he withdraws his hand.
Steve moves, faster than anyone who just woke up has any right to, and catches Tony’s hand to press it to his lips.
“Morning,” Steve says, lips moving against the skin of Tony's palm.
“Sorry,” Tony says, but already some of the guilt is melting away in the face of Steve’s… is Tony allowed to call it a glow? “I didn't mean to wake you up.”
“S’alright,” Steve says, with a smile so sweet and gentle that it seems for a moment as if Tony’s heart has survived a chest full of shrapnel, several operations, and too many electric shocks to count only to be done in by the curve of Steve’s lips on the morning of some summer’s day.
God, Tony’s turning into such a sap.
Steve tightens his arm around Tony's waist to drag him in close. “I don't mind, as long as I'm waking up next to you.”
Well, at least Tony isn’t the only one. He buries his face against Steve's shoulder, not trusting himself to make an audible response. Steve's thumb traces circles at the small of Tony's back, and they lay there for a while in silence, wrapped up in each other’s warmth.
“We should probably get up,” Steve says, eventually.
Tony whines.
“I know, I know,” Steve says, moving his arm around Tony’s shoulders to bodily pull them both upright.
Tony whines again and flops against Steve's chest.
Steve's fingers catch him by the chin, tugging his face up so that Steve can slant their mouths together. Tony only melts into the kiss, at first, and then the pressure of Steve's teeth closing around his lower lip wakes him up enough to start pulling his weight.
A while later, when they've managed to muss themselves up even more than a night of sleep had done, they break apart, breathing heavily. Steve looks a little smug, but not nearly as smug as Tony feels.
“You with me now? Ready to face the day?”
“I think I could face anything with you,” Tony says, the words slipping out before he has a chance to think, and he winces, but Steve's face lights up like the damn sun.
“You’re wonderful,” he says, and it's so good that it's just too much to take all at once.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, and he pushes himself out of bed as an excuse to look away from Steve and his awful, beautiful smile. “You too, Cradle Robber.”
From somewhere behind Tony's back, Steve sighs his old man jokes sigh. “Tony, you're 47.”
“And not even half your age,” Tony shoots back, over his shoulder on his way into the bathroom.
“I feel like these jokes carry worse implications for your taste than mine!” Steve calls after him, through the door.
“Maybe,” Tony says, mouth already full of toothpaste, “but I'm not the one blushing right now!”
That all ends with Tony and his toothbrush locked out of the bathroom while Steve showers, but Tony is grinning to himself as he ventures out to plead for some quality time with Natasha’s sink.
*
Steve is pouring out the last serving of coffee when Tony walks into the kitchen, hair still wet from his shower. His eyes go straight to the mug in Steve’s hands like a heat-seeking missile.
“Coffee,” Tony says. He holds out his hands, pleading. “Steve. Coffee.”
Steve holds Tony’s gaze as he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a long sip. “Mm.”
Tony lets out a long, low sound of devastating anguish. When Steve grins, Tony repeats the noise. “I want a divorce.”
“We’re not married. We’ve been dating for a week,” Steve says with an eyeroll, but he also does pass Tony the coffee.
“Well, I can't threaten to break up with you,” Tony says, accepting the mug with a care and reverence that would make Steve laugh if he weren't used to it by now. “You'd know I was bluffing.”
Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. He’s glad that Tony is more focused on the coffee than him now, because Steve is certain that he’s blushing.
A crumpled up napkin hits Tony in the side of the head. Tony doesn’t even look up from his coffee as he flips Clint off, so Steve frowns at him for the both of them.
“Don’t give me that look, Cap,” Clint says, through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “You’re the ones being gross in the kitchen. Some of us are trying to eat here.”
“Eating food that I made for you,” Steve says dryly. “Next time you assault my boyfriend I’m revoking your hot breakfast privileges. You can go back to eating dry cereal straight from the box with your bare hands like an animal.”
“Nat’ll sneak me food,” Clint says, pointing his fork at Natasha.
“I absolutely will not,” says Nat. “If I never have to see you dump ketchup on eggs again, I’ll die happy.”
“You are covering yours in hot sauce right now.”
“Hold on,” Tony says. “Can we go back to the dry cereal thing? What’s wrong with dry cereal?”
Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Tony, when Darcy tried to bring Kraft mac and cheese into this kitchen, you literally screamed.”
“Those evil blue boxes are an abomination before god, science, and the culinary arts, and are also a completely separate issue. Dry cereal is good. What is your problem with dry cereal, Steve?”
“It’s just not right,” Steve says.
“But eating sugar-oat mush soup is?”
“Are you not just describing the dish known here as ‘oatmeal’?” Thor asks, between bites of his third plate of eggs.
Tony stares at Thor, mouth hanging open.
All at once, around the room, phones start buzzing.
“Looks like we’ve got a mission,” Steve says. The alert displayed on his phone had come from the Fantastic Four, which always meant they were in for some fun, by one definition of the word or another. “Meet at the Quinjet in five.”
“Sure you don’t want to make it fifteen?” Tony asks with a smirk. “We could get a lot done in ten extra minutes.”
Tony’s not serious, and Steve knows that, but it’s still enough for his brain to stall out for a moment. He decides not to hold the napkin that hits Tony in the face that time against Clint.
*
Tony loves Reed. Really. He’s a brilliant scientist, a great hero, and a dear friend. It’s just that, sometimes…
“You opened a transdimensional gateway in the middle of New York City and didn’t even think to have someone double-check your calibrations first?”
“The issue is not my calibrations,” Reed says through the earpiece as Tony watches him rubberband his way out of the path of a flailing tentacle from his vantage point in the sky.
“Richards, you arrogant son of a--”
“Reed, honey,” Susan says sweetly over the commlink, cutting Tony off. “Shut the fuck up, okay?”
“Sue, when you dump his sorry ass, feel free to give me a call,” Tony says, arcing down to scoop Nat out the way of a blast of goo that looks and smells like no substance that nature should allow to exist in any dimension, ever. She tries twisting around over Tony’s shoulder to shoot The Monster in one of its many eyes as he flies her to safety, but the bullets don’t seem to have any effect.
Steve gets a foot on one squirming tentacle and hacks it off with the blunt edge of his shield, then kicks the ugly, gooey mass aside. It doesn’t grow back, which is good news, but Tony’s best guess would be that there are approximately six bajillion tentacles tentacle on this thing, so on the scale of large to small victories, it was pretty much microscopic. But still! A victory! “I’m going to assume you mean a call for entirely platonic emotional support in the wake of her tragic breakup.”
“Of course, babe,” Tony says, and shoots twin repulsor blasts at The Monster’s general head-body-blob area, to little effect. “What else would I mean?”
“Fuck off, Tony,” Reed says.
“You fuck off, Reed.”
“Both of you fuck off!” yells Human Torch, from where he’s hurling fireballs over a ways.
Tony tries switching to ballistics. No luck. “Is anyone getting anywhere with this monster?”
“No,” Nat says.
“Nah,” Thing says.
“Not really,” Steve says.
Hulk grunts one of his ‘no’ grunts.
“Taser arrow seemed to get a reaction,” Clint says. “But I’m out of ‘em now.”
“Taser arrow?” Tony asks. “So Thor should be going all Thunderer on this eldritch bastard’s ass?”
“It might be more of a heat issue than electricity,” Johnny chimes in. “I haven’t made a huge dent, but at least it seems to notice when I hit it, unlike you losers. Also, I think it’s scared to touch me.”
“Well, Thor should still try to fry it then, right?” Clint asks.
“Sure, why not,” Steve says. “Everyone, clear the area. Give the god some room to work.”
*
Steve is sitting beside the smoking corpse of the monster with his head in his hands.
Tony’s voice speaks in Steve’s ear, gentle and understanding. He’s switched to a private line for this, Steve is sure. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t have known.”
“I should have.”
Tony lands beside him, a shining knight in red and gold armor. He places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “We all thought it was a good plan. Don’t beat yourself up over this. There were no civilian casualties, and Nat’ll pull through just fine. We get to bring one of the reserve members up to the frontlines for a couple weeks, our girl gets an enforced vacation--everybody wins, really.”
“God, of course the rain had an effect. Heat and electricity did.” Steve shuts his eyes. “It’s an evil octopus. Of course it would do better with water.”
“This isn’t Pokemon, Steve, you couldn’t have known that. And I mean, it still definitely died,” Tony says.
“It’s death throes dragged it across half the city! The property damage--”
“Will be handled. By me.” Tony squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “I promise.”
Steve shifts his weight and just begins to lean in towards Tony when he’s abruptly struck blind by the bright flash of a camera.
“Captain Rogers! Mr. Stark!”
And right on cut, there’s The Media, climbing a mountain of rubble with their fancy cameras and millions of questions. Apparently just to make Steve’s day a little more difficult.
Tony withdraws his hand from Steve’s shoulder and steps away.
“Well, what brings you folks to our side of the giant tentacle atrocity?” Tony asks, pulling off his helmet to reveal messy hair and a showman’s smile. Steve wants Tony to kiss him and hold him and take him home. He settles for letting Tony handle the reporters.
“Natasha,” Steve says into his comms, switching back to the open frequency. He waves at the cameras from his position behind Tony and tries to look very serious and preoccupied as he walks away. “How are you holding up?”
“For the thousandth time, I’m fine, Steve,” Nat says. He can hear her rolling her eyes at him. Doesn’t matter that it’s impossible, he can.
“You are not fine. At best you are managing.”
“This is nothing. You know I’ve had worse.”
“Nat, that doesn’t help,” Tony interjects quickly, before presumably switching back to external speakers for the reporters.
“The FF want to come back to the tower with us,” Clint says. “Reed is doing this puppy eyes thing, it is seriously so disturbing.”
Steve exhales through his teeth. “Fine.”
“They just want a chance to talk with us about what happened. In private.”
“I said fine.”
“Yeah, but you don’t sound fine with it.”
“Shut up, Hawkeye.”
*
Reed is in the thick of long-winded, jargon-ridden explanation of what the fuck he had been doing that morning, and Steve looks ready to crawl out of his skin.
“Reed,” Tony says, holding up a hand. “I’m loving the science talk, you know I am, but I need a shower as soon as humanly possible, and I expect that others feel the same way. You four are welcome to make yourselves at home here, as always, but can you give us a few minutes to freshen up before launching into the full what-how-why of it all?”
Reed opens his mouth, and Sue promptly clamps a hand over top of it. “Of course, Tony,” she says. “I could really use a shower myself, if you don’t mind us using the guest rooms?”
“All yours,” Tony says, spreading his arms. “Meet back in here in thirty?”
“Sounds good,” Sue says, dropping her hand to intertwine it with Reed’s and tow him away towards the elevators. Tony watches them go, then glances at Steve, feeling something strange and uncomfortable settle in his gut.
“Well, uh,” Tony says. “Guess I’ll go see about that shower.”
“Me too,” Steve says, and stands to follow Tony out of the room.
When they’re alone in the hallway, and Tony turns to make his way toward his own bedroom, Steve grabs his arm and asks, “Where are you going?”
“My room?”
“But mine’s right here,” Steve says.
“...Right. Sorry.”
Steve smiles and pulls Tony into his room, kicking the door shut and dragging him in for a kiss. He tastes like sweat, and rain, and maybe a little bit like sulfur.
“You can have the shower first,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s lips. “It’s your room.”
“What happened to wanting to shower as soon as humanly possible?” Steve asks, eyebrows raised.
“I only said that so you could get away from everyone without seeming rude, since, you know, you worry about that sort of thing. It looked like you needed a break.”
Steve pulls away to stare at him, and Tony is just starting to worry that he’s done something wrong when he’s suddenly being pushed up against the bathroom door and kissed within an inch of his life.
“I think the shower’s big enough for both of us,” Steve says, fingers plucking at the hem of the ratty, sweat-soaked t-shirt Tony had been wearing beneath the armor.
“Ah. Yes,” Tony says. “I would agree with that assessment.”
*
The shower was fun. The following meeting with the Fantastic Four is, so far, significantly less fun. Steve feels a headache coming on.
“But why were you opening a transdimensional portal in the first place?”
“Why do we anything, Tony? For research, for discovery, for science--”
“Oh no, no, no, do not class me in with your bullshit Richards, not after you just--”
“It shouldn’t have been a problem--”
“Your math was so far off it may as well have been in the Andromeda Galaxy--”
“It was a technical error--”
“Reed,” Sue says, putting a hand on his arm. “You screwed up. It happens. Say you’re sorry, and let’s get on with our lives.”
Reed looks at her and sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you all for your help today.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Tony says, dropping back onto the couch and seeming for all the world as if he hadn’t looked ready to tear Reed’s throat out ten seconds ago.
Steve nudges Tony with his foot and raises an eyebrow. Tony looks at him, frowns, and looks away.
Weird.
“Well, we’d better be getting home,” Sue says. “Thank you again, for everything, and we are so sorry for... the trouble.”
Steve nods solemnly. “We’re just happy we could help.” Even if they did also kind of make it worse.
“Let me walk you guys down,” Tony says, getting to his feet. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Should I come too?” Steve asks.
“No, no,” Tony says, quickly. “It’s nothing important, I’m sure it’d bore you.”
Steve watches them go, and is none too pleased by the sight.
“Oh, don’t look like that,” says Natasha, who should by all rights be in bed or with a doctor, not here annoying Steve. “He isn’t into Sue.”
“I know that.”
“He isn’t into Reed, either.”
“I know that.”
“So quit pouting, then. You are way too brooding for someone who just got some.”
“Wait, Steve got some?” Clint asks, leaning forward. “Like, just a few minutes ago?”
“Oh my god,” Steve moans.
“Do not be ashamed, Captain,” Thor says. “It is not at all uncommon for battle lust to transition into lust of a more amorous nature, once the warrior has secured his victory.”
“I’m moving out,” Steve says.
Bruce laughs from his armchair, where he’s still sitting with his eyes closed and a blanket around his shoulders. “Good luck getting Tony to come to some rundown apartment in Brooklyn, then.”
“He would,” Nat says. “For Steve.”
“No, he’d throw the rest of us out so Steve would stay,” Clint says.
“He could try,” Thor scoffs, and Steve ducks his head to hide his smile.
*
Tony stands outside Steve’s door, raking a hand through his hair.
Sue had told him not to worry so much. Reed had just shot him sympathetic looks, mostly, but Sue had been very supportive. She’d given lots of good advice. She’d told him it would be okay. She’d told him not worry so much.
He needs to stop worrying so much.
He pushes the door open, just partly. “Steve?”
“Tony,” Steve says. “Why are you standing there? Come here--have you seen this?”
“Seen what?” Tony asks, entering the room. Steve is seated on the bed, staring down at a tablet. He waves him over.
Tony goes to sit beside him, and takes the tablet when Steve hands it to him. He sucks in a breath when he sees the screen. “Oh.”
“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. We knew they snapped a photo. I just didn’t expect it to--to look like that.”
It’s beautiful, really. Artistic. Whoever took it has an incredible eye. It’s of Steve, sitting on an upturned chunk of concrete with his shoulders slumped but his body angled still just enough towards Tony to be noticeable. Tony, with his hand on Steve’s shoulder, gazing down so intently that he hadn’t even noticed the hoard of vultures coming straight for them. Thank god he’d still been wearing his helmet at that time--if this seemed to give too much away, Tony can’t imagine how bad it would be if his face had actually been visible.
“I’m sorry,” Tony says. “I’ll be more careful.”
“You?” Steve asks. “This is on me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m the one touching you in public.”
“Not inappropriately. There’s nothing strange about comforting your friend after a difficult battle. I’m the one who made it--who looks--”
Tony looks at the photo again, trying to see what Steve must be seeing. No matter how he squints, all he sees is his own poorly-concealed affection. He shakes his head. “Has anyone called us out?”
“Not yet.”
“Then,” Tony says, setting the tablet aside, “let’s… not worry so much.”
“Tony--”
“If something happens, we’ll handle it.” Tony reaches up to cup the side of Steve’s jaw with one hand. “Together, right?”
Steve covers Tony’s hand with his own. His eyes flutter shut. “Right. Together.”
*
“We should be calling up Bucky,” Steve says. It’s obvious. He doesn’t really understand why this is an argument.
“I refuse to let James have fun with you while I am suffering through sick leave,” Nat says. “No. You can’t have him.”
“Tactically, he’s the best substitute for you. He matches your skillset.”
“It’s not all about fighting style, Steve,” Tony says. “Also, Nat’s our only girl.”
Nat rolls her eyes. “Oh, Tony, I never thought you’d noticed.”
“I’m just saying, if we bring Bucky in for Nat, we are entirely a team of white men. Do we really want to be those guys?”
Steve frowns.
“There’s always Agent 13,” Clint offers.
“Sharon is...unavailable at this time,” Tony says.
Steve runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Bucky’s still the best choice.”
“Bucky’s really a superhero jack-of-all-trades,” Tony points out. “Or, well, jack-of-several-trades. He’s our alt-supersoldier, alt-assassin, alt-ranger... Hell, he was in for Clint two months ago.”
“And he was good.”
Tony nods. “He was great, but you can’t overplay him just because you like having him here.”
“The same could be said about you and Rhodey, you realize.”
Tony makes a face. “To be fair, I’m usually the man down when War Machine get activated.”
“What about Carol?” Clint asks. “We never call Carol.”
“That’s because Carol is our sub for Thor, and Thor never gets hurt,” Steve says. “Take it up with him.”
“If you wish me gone so badly, I could always just return to Asgard,” Thor grumbles.
“Promises, promises,” Clint says, and Natasha throws a pillow at him.
“Fuck it,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what, let’s just bring them all up. Why not? It’ll be a party. A big, explosive, superpowered party. Yeah.”
“‘All’ meaning who, exactly?” Bruce asks, looking slightly apprehensive.
“Bucky, Rhodey, and Carol,” Steve says. “They’re here all the time anyway, they might as well earn their keep. It’ll be fun.”
“I guess that works,” Tony says.
“Or you could just let me fight,” Nat says. “Since I’m fine.”
“No,” Steve says.
“I could beat Clint up right now,” Nat says. “Watch me."
“No,” Steve says.
Clint holds the pillow between Natasha and himself like a shield, as if it could offer any real protection against the Black Widow. “Away from me, villain.”
“On second though, I think you’re right about Bucky, Steve,” Tony says. “He’s probably our only real chance of keeping Nat in bed.”
“Should we also invite Falcon to this great gathering of ours?” Thor asks. “Rescue?”
Bruce makes a noise that sounds strangely between a whine and a growl. “Don’t push it.”
*
Rhodey and Carol show up to take over their usual room that night, and Bucky gets in the next day, and everything goes really, really well, until it doesn’t.
“So, let’s recap. The giant dead squid monster woke up,” Tony says. His head is in his hands. He is not a happy camper.
“Yes,” Carol says.
“And it dragged us into another dimension,” Tony says.
“Yes.”
“And now it’s dead again, but not before dragging us halfway across some godforsaken land and dropping our friends god-knows-where along the way.” He thinks his voice sounds calm, which Tony thinks is pretty impressive considering that he’s dying inside.
“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Rhodey says.
“I’m dying inside,” Tony says.
“Well, you do that a lot.”
Tony groans.
“It’ll be fine, Tony,” Carol says. She pats him on the head, which feels slightly condescending, but also still a little bit comforting, so Tony doesn’t make a thing of it. “I’ll fly around and look for the others while you two work on figuring out a way home. Okay?”
“Fine,” Tony says. “But when we get home, I have dibs on killing Reed.”
*
“I’m going to kill him,” Steve says, and buries his shield in a nearby tree for the sheer need to hit something.
“Who?” Bucky asks. “Tony?”
“What,” Steve says. “No.”
“Oh, okay. Who then?”
“Reed Richards. Why would I want to kill Tony?” Steve asks. He yanks his shield out from the wood of the tree, sending splinters flying.
“I dunno,” Bucky says. He’s perched on a rock, checking his ammo while Steve works out his frustrations. “You’re bein’ all scowly and violent. Figured it might be boy problems.”
Steve looks at Bucky in disbelief, then gestures to their surroundings. “You couldn’t think of any other reason that I might be in a bad mood?”
“Oh c’mon,” Bucky says. “This is just a normal Tuesday.”
*
“So… are things going… well?”
“Tony, we literally just started, you can’t expect a progress report already.”
“No, I meant.” Tony waves a hand. “With you and Carol.”
“Oh,” Rhodey says. “Yeah, things are... good.”
“Good, good,” Tony says. He fiddles with the communicator Carol left him to cannibalize for parts, since they don’t seem to work here anyway.
Rhodey sighs. “Tony, do you want to talk about stuff with you and Steve?”
“It’s just that I never know if I’m doing it right,” Tony says, throwing the communicator aside. “Like, am I coming on too strong? Not strong enough? Are his needs being met? Am I overwhelming him? How do I tell.”
“I mean, you could try asking him.”
Tony stares at Rhodey. Rhodey raises an eyebrow. Tony returns to fiddling with the communicator.
“You’re not going to ask him, are you?”
“Wow, you know me so well, it’s almost like you’re my oldest friend.”
“Tones,” Rhodey says, “I can’t tell you what’s right for you and Steve. You gotta figure that out that out for yourselves.”
“It’s just.” Tony flips open a panel on his suit, and starts digging around in the wiring. “I don’t have. You know. The best track record with relationships. In general. And I--” Tony swallows. “I really like him.”
“I know, Tony. But to be fair,” Rhodey says, bumping his shoulder against Tony’s, “you’ve dated a lot of assholes, and you’ve had a lot of weird, uncontrollable shit happen to you on top of them. Maybe you’re not always the problem, have you ever considered that?”
Tony frowns, thinking about that. It’s too big a problem for him to solve right now. Better to focus on getting them home.
*
“Do you ever get jealous?” Steve asks. They’ve been walking for hours, with no idea of whether or not they’re even going the right way. Even the stars are unlike those in any sky that either of them have ever seen--there’s no way to navigate. Steve feels he can be forgiven for letting his mind wander a little.
“Ha! It is boy problems.”
Steve sighs. “Nevermind.”
“No, no,” Bucky says, truly laughing at Steve now. “I want to hear everything. Did Tony smile at another girl? Did you catch him and Clint making eyes at each other in the gym?”
“Shuddup.”
“Really, though,” Bucky says. “Tell me.”
Steve shrugs, uncomfortable. “I dunno. It’s not that I think Tony would ever cheat, I know he wouldn’t. It’s just…”
This is the part Steve struggles with. He’s spent a lot of time trying to identify the source of his unease, but the actual explanation for his feelings still evades him.
Luckily, he’s saved from having to put anything into words by something that looks like the unholy spawn of a pterodactyl and a porcupine, except fifty times bigger.
“Hold that thought,” Bucky says, cocking his gun.
*
“Found you a helper,” Carol says, dropping a miserable-looking Bruce by Tony’s side. “Well, okay, technically Thor found him, but I brought him over, so I get at least half of the credit.”
“Any luck with the others?” Tony asks.
“I think I might’ve spotted Clint on my way back here,” Carol says. “I’m gonna go check it out. We’re still looking for Rogers and Barnes.”
“Be safe,” Rhodey says.
“‘Be safe’ yourself,” Carol says, and flies away.
Tony keeps tinkering. He thinks the beacon is functional, but it’s hard to tell from this end. Harder when it’s not even turned on.
“They’re fine, Tony,” Rhodey says. Bruce just kind of slumps against Tony’s shoulder, which should probably be taken as agreement.
“Of course they are,” Tony says, while quietly attempting to will his pulse down to a reasonable BPM rate. “None of the rest of us have had any trouble, right? They’re probably bored out of their minds.”
*
“It’s nothing Tony’s done,” Steve says, hanging by his left arm from one of the monster’s spines as he drives his shield repeatedly into its flank. “Just, sometimes I worry that I’m not… enough, y’know?”
Bucky, hanging from the creature’s stomach, adjusts his position to free a hand to take the knife he’d been holding between his teeth. “Steve, I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror since 1943, but trust me, there’s more than enough of you.”
“Buck.”
“Steve. Seriously, who cares? You think I don’t feel that way all the time? You’ve seen Nat.”
Steve isn’t sure what to say to that, so he lets himself fall to ground and tries throwing his shield at the monster’s head. Bucky continues his climb, stabbing experimentally as he goes. The monster starts flapping its wings, shrieking something awful, and Steve throws his shield at the point just under the wing, where it joins the rest of the body. The thing goes down like a bag of rocks, and Bucky jumps to safety just in time.
“Well, that was lucky,” Steve says.
Bucky wipes his knife in the grass, making a face at the gunk that this world apparently considers passable as blood. “Anyway, as I was saying--”
Steve groans. “Just drop it, will you?”
“Quit whining and accept my incredible wisdom,” Bucky says, punching Steve in the shoulder. “As I was saying. Me, I think you’re good enough, and I suspect most of the world would agree with me. You, maybe you’re on the fence, but eh, you have issues, what can ya do.”
“I have issues?”
“But the thing is, Steve, that it doesn’t matter what I think, or what you think, or what the whole rest of the world thinks, because Tony clearly thinks you’re good enough.” Bucky sheathes his knife. “And his opinion is the only one that matters on this, right? So, you know. Get over yourself.”
“Gee, thanks,” Steve says. It’s not actually bad advice, when he thinks about it. But still.
Bucky grins and salutes. “Anytime, Captain.”
*
“Look who we found!” Carol yells, waving at Tony from the edge of the clearing. Steve and Bucky emerge from the woods behind her, looking nearly as rough as Bruce had an hour ago. Thor brings up the rear, a hand on each of the supersoldiers’ shoulders.
“We were already nearly here when you showed up,” Bucky says. “I don’t think you get full credit for finding us.”
“Half credit,” Carol says.
“Deal.”
Steve makes a beeline for Tony, and Tony pulls him into a tight embrace. He feels better, now that they can hold each other like this.
That’s one good thing about being in a place like this, Tony supposes. No paparazzi.
“You’ve been busy,” Steve says, when he pulls away to survey the fruits of their labor.
“So have you, judging from the smell. What happened?”
Steve grimaces. “Don’t ask.”
Tony raises an eyebrow but leaves it alone. “Well, now that we’re all here, I guess we’re good to turn this baby on.”
“What is it?” Bucky asks, eyeing the device with a distinct air of skepticism. “Some kinda portal maker thing?”
“Nah,” Tony says. “Didn’t have the resources for that. It’s a homing beacon, so the guy with the portal knows where to open it to.”
“You mean Reed,” Steve says, voice flat. “Suddenly, I’m not so excited.”
“Hey, he is a brilliant scientist,” Tony says. “The very best of us, on his good days. It just means that his fuckups, rare though they are, are proportionally disastrous.”
“Let’s hope he gets it right this time, then,” Steve says, crossing his arms.
“Let’s hope I got it right,” Tony says. “If it works, I’ve done a lot of the heavy lifting for Reed already. If it doesn’t… well, I hope everyone likes camping.”
“I can hunt the fuck out of some rabbits for us,” Clint says. “Can’t cook ‘em though.”
“I can,” Bucky says. “I can skin a rabbit in seven minutes flat.”
“That is terrifying,” Clint says. “You and Nat deserve each other.”
“You are all heartless people, and I will not stand by as you slaughter innocent bunnies,” Rhodey says.
Thor frowns. “Rabbit meat is delicious. I do not see the problem.”
“It actually really isn’t that bad,” Bruce says.
“None of this matters, because the beacon is going to work,” Steve says. He smiles at Tony. “I trust you.”
Tony stares at Steve, a lump forming in his throat. Just say thank you, he thinks, but they aren’t the words he wants to say, and he can’t seem to force them out.
Carol clears her throat. “Tony? The beacon?”
“...Right.” The beacon is easy enough to get started--Tony had hooked it into the suit’s secondary power source, so all he has to do now is flip a switch. “And now we wait.”
*
They weren’t waiting long at all. Only a handful of moments after Tony had turned the beacon on, a tear in reality opened up in front of them like a window to New York City.
The specific part of New York City where they’d first fought the tentacle thing with the Fantastic Four, in fact.
Clint whistles. “Reed’s on the ball today.”
“Try to appreciate it, because it’s the best apology you’re going to get out of him,” Tony says.
“Is anyone planning on going through the portal, or we all the just gonna stand here talking about it?” Bucky asks, and walks through without waiting for an answer.
“The man has a point,” Carol says.
“Ladies first,” Tony says with a bow.
Carol rolls her eyes but steps through. The others file after her, one by one, until it’s only Steve and Tony left.
“Go ahead,” Steve says. “I’ll watch your back.” He lifts his shield a little higher, to illustrate. It probably looked very dorky. Steve doesn’t know why he does things like that.
“I know you will,” Tony says. “But I just wanted to say something, before we have to go back to the real world and all of its… worries.”
“Sure, Tony,” Steve says, growing more confused by the minute. “You can tell me anything.”
Tony grabs Steve by the shoulders and kisses him.
Steve laughs. “You know, it doesn’t count as talking just because you use your tongue--”
“I love you,” Tony says.
Steve's mouth falls open, and Tony kisses him again.
“Right,” Tony says. “That’s all.”
“Tony, wait--”
Steve reaches out, trying to grab ahold of Tony’s arm, but Tony dives through the portal before Steve can stop him.
*
Tony is dying. He is absolutely on the brink of death, and he will not hear any allegations of panic attacks because his heart is trying to pound its way out of his ribcage, and he is dying. He can’t even muster a smile and soundbyte for the reporters who have flocked to the portal. He just keeps his head down and tries to make his escape as quickly as possible.
Tries, and fails. Someone grabs his arm in a vice grip, holding him in place.
‘Someone.’ Like he doesn’t know who it is. He’s refusing to look, so he could probably have plead ignorance if only Steve weren’t yelling at him.
“Do you actually think you can get away from me that easily?” Steve demands. “You can’t just do that and run away!”
Tony winces. “Steve, ah, cameras…”
As if on cue, a camera flashes right next to Tony’s face. Steve grabs it from the photographer’s hands and smashes it onto the ground.
Tony stares at the wreck of the camera, lying on the pavement, and says to its owner, “I will, uh, I will totally pay for that.”
“Tony.”
“And Captain America is definitely very sorry for breaking it, he’s just a little worked up--”
“I’m not sorry at all,” Steve says.
Tony wants to cry, thinking of all the people recording this. Or maybe he wants to cry over the way he’s clearly shattered his relationship to pieces just like Steve shattered that camera.
Why can’t Tony ever just keep his mouth shut.
“Tony, look at me,” Steve says.
“Nope, I’m good,” Tony says. Wasn’t he dying earlier? Can he die faster?
“Tony,” Steve says, and kisses him.
In front of...all the cameras. Maybe Tony really is dying. He’s clearly hallucinating.
Someone wolf whistles. It sounds like Bucky.
“I love you too,” Steve says, when he finally takes his mouth away from Tony’s.
“Oh,” Tony says.
Steve blushes and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry for--for doing that. I just… couldn’t let you get away.”
“It’s cool,” Tony says. “Sorry for running.”
“It’s alright,” Steve says. He takes Tony’s hand and intertwines their fingers.
Tony leans against Steve, ignoring the the crowd around them. Miraculously, the reporters seem stunned into silence. That, or the other Avengers are glaring them into submission. Both are possible.
“We should probably just go ahead and get married, right?” Tony asks. “I mean, at this point, we’re halfway there.”
Steve laughs and presses his forehead to Tony’s. “Let’s maybe give that one another week.”