Work Text:
After spending about four hours alternating between keeping his eyelids firmly shut and staring at his ceiling in despair, Steve concluded that sleep just wasn’t happening that night. This was a ritual that happened often enough, much to his displeasure. His mind refused to quiet. He could go to the gym, punching the reinforced bags until his knuckles felt raw. Or he could go to the kitchen, make some tea or heat up milk to soothe his nerves.
Actually, warm milk sounded good.
He left for the communal floor in nothing but pajama pants, absentmindedly scratching his abdomen. He paused when he reached the threshold, a surprised grin forming on his lips.
Mister Stark had his back to him while he scavenging the fridge. For once he wore no suit, only jeans and a stained tank top. His hair was in the usual artful flop that Stark made look effortless.
It was rare to see the Avengers’ benefactor in his natural state. Most of the time he was sharply dressed and carefully composed, with a polished smile he would reserve for paparazzi or charity galas. Even when it was only Mister Stark and the Avengers, he kept a careful distance from them, even while catering to their every whim. Steve tried not to take it personally, since he knew Stark had become a bit of a recluse ever since Iron Man appeared.
“Mister Stark!”
Stark startled, bumping his head on one of the shelves. Steve held back his chuckle, feeling guilty for his amusement.
“Captain, I thought I told you to call me ‘Tony.’”
Steve’s grin quickly faded once Stark turned around.
He paled. “Mister Stark, your eye!”
The skin surrounding Stark’s right eye was purpled and mottled, his eyelid puffy. A gash rested on his cheekbone, sluggishly oozing a trickle of dried blood. The wound looked fresh too, and barely attended to.
Stark’s own grin wilted as he reached up to touch his eye socket. To Steve’s alarm, he looked rather sheepish and embarrassed about his injury.
“Ah, I forgot about that.” Stark shrugged nervously. “Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me? Have you gone to a doctor? Let’s go wake up Bruce.”
“No, no.” Stark waved his hand dismissively. “Really, don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”
“Worse?” Steve’s tone turned incredulous. How much worse can a billionaire philanthropist could have it?
“Captain Rogers, really, don’t worry about me. I didn’t mean to bother you tonight, especially since you had such a difficult mission earlier.” He smiled tentatively at him. “I shouldn’t keep you. Have a good night, Captain.”
Stark headed for the exit without another word, keeping his head down and eyes away from Steve. Steve wanted to reach out to him, but since Stark was hunched into himself, he thought the gesture wouldn't be welcomed.
It must have been an accident in the workshop, Steve finally decided. Mister Stark was always holed up in there, working on a project for Stark Industries or on new equipment for the team.
Steve set about on warming his milk, trying to shake off this uneasy feeling.
Wednesdays were for training and team building exercises. Steve tried to be strict about it, making it mandatory for every active Avenger unless something unavoidable came up. Usually he'd corral all his teammates into the gym every week but this time there was a curious absence.
Steve managed to dodge Natasha’s fist but couldn't quite leap away from the kick aimed at his abdomen. He landed on the mat with an “oof” and stayed there, grinning up at the sweaty spy. She rolled her eyes and reached her arm out to help him to his feet.
“Take five?” Steve asked and she nodded, moving to a bench to grab her water bottle.
Steve walked around the room, watching Clint and Sam fight in their own sparring match. Bruce sat cross legged on Thor’s back while Thor did a series of push ups, meditating and looking perfectly serene despite the fighting around him. It would usually be this time that Thor would spar with Iron Man, but Shellhead was nowhere to be seen.
He moved to stand next to Natasha, who was languidly stretching her torso. “You heard anything from Iron Man? He should be here by now.”
“I wouldn't know any more than you, Cap.”
Steve scoffed. “Now that's a lie.”
She shrugged. “You know how he is. Always evasive. I wouldn't worry about it though. Tony's probably keeping him busy.” The emphasis on “busy” and the arch of her brows was suggestive enough that Steve blushed. He tried not to think about their relationship; not that two men being together offended him in any way, but that it wasn't any of his business what the two got up to when they were alone.
“He's usually punctual, is all I'm saying.”
Just as he was about to ask JARVIS for where Iron Man was, the wide double doors opened to allow a metal suit of armor to walk into the gym. Clint and Sam broke off to watch him arrive, and Sam gave Steve a meaningful look, smirking slightly. Sam never failed to tease Steve over his “hero worship” of Iron Man. Steve would defend himself, saying it's hard not to have a high opinion of the guy who was his first true friend in this strange future.
“Stark keeping you?” Sam asked when Iron Man reached them.
Iron Man shrugged in an exaggerated manner, spreading out his arms and visibly shifting his shoulders up and down. “He can be kind of needy. Finally able to get rid of him,” he joked.
Clint laughed and even Natasha looked rather amused. Steve tried not to frown at Iron Man’s words. He couldn't imagine why Iron Man would disparage his wonderful partner in front of other people like that.
“Man of Iron!” Thor called cheerfully, having finished with his set of push-ups. “I have been waiting for us to battle again!”
“So have I and I'm definitely winning this time.”
Before Iron Man could join Thor, Steve reached out to hold him back, resting a hand on his metal shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure.” Iron Man tilted his head to the side. “What's going on?”
Steve felt hesitant in bringing up Mister Stark’s injury; he knew it was really none of his business. He couldn't stop thinking about it since last night and worried if Stark was all right. He was so generous and, along with Iron Man, did his best to make Steve feel welcome in this century.
“I just wanted to ask you if Mister Stark is all right? I saw him last night and he had a pretty nasty black eye.”
Iron Man's usual jovial voice went oddly flat. "Oh, that. Don't worry, Cap, he's fine."
"He was bleeding," Steve pointed out.
"It was his own fault, really," Iron Man said, still sounding distant. "He's pretty clumsy in the lab. Always getting bruised." He clapped his metal hand on Steve's shoulder. "Never mind Stark. Time to focus on the team."
Steve nodded. He knew Mister Stark was probably fine.
“You're a lucky man, though,” Steve offered, feeling off-kilter. He tried not to blush under Iron Man’s unwavering stare.
“Lucky?” he echoed.
“For dating Mister Stark, I mean. He's a brilliant man and very handsome.” He really should learn to keep his mouth shut. It was bad enough that Sam and Natasha got on his case about his very obvious crush on Mister Stark, and he didn't need Iron Man to join in on their efforts.
Instead of taking the bait though, Iron Man didn't respond for a long moment. Finally, he offered a weak, “I guess?”
“Man of Iron!” Thor’s booming voice interrupted them. “If you don't join me now, I will take that as you forfeiting our match!”
“I’ll talk to you later, Cap,” Iron Man said quickly before heading towards the mats.
Steve nodded slowly, feeling dumbfounded. He pushed the worry to the back of his head while he rejoined the team. It was probably nothing.
The next time Steve saw Mister Stark was over a week later, when he was on his way to the roof to get Sam, who was currently flying laps with Thor. Sam was insistent on taking him to a variety of different restaurants, every time claiming that he had not lived until he tried a certain culture’s food. Steve treasured these times; he hadn't really realized how often he'd lock himself away until Sam forced him to come out into the daylight.
He was passing by the living room where he heard low voices arguing, but what made him pause was that one of those voices was Stark’s . The billionaire had been avoiding him more than usual, as he hadn't seen him at all since running into him in the kitchen that night. Usually he'd catch a glimpse of Stark as he was entering or leaving the tower, in between meetings, or when he came to show the team their new upgrades.
He paused at a nearby wall, knowing the two haven't noticed him, and felt somewhat guilty for his ears picking up their conversation with perfect clarity.
“Rhodey bear, you need to stop worrying, everything is fine--”
“No! Everything is not fine. Why do you have to be so stubborn? Look, I'll even help, okay? If my being here makes it better--”
“I have everything under control.”
“You don't, Tones.” A sigh. “You have to tell the team. You need to stop keeping this a secret from them. All you're doing is hurting yourself.”
“The team’s fine. They have their perfect Iron Man--” and the hero’s name was said with such disgust and revulsion that it shocked Steve “--I can't ruin that for them, Rhodey.”
Steve felt like his head was spinning. That can't mean what he thought it meant, can it? There was no way. Iron Man was his friend, one of his best besides Sam. He must be misunderstanding this somehow.
“It's just -- You deserve better, Tony. You do, you really do. I hate seeing you suffer.” There was a sharp intake of breath. “I wish I could do something about Iron Man.”
“You won't,” Mister Stark said firmly. “Besides, he's the best thing that's happened to me.”
“I hate that you believe that.”
Silently, Steve moved back towards the elevator lobby, missing the rest of the conversation. But he heard enough.
It couldn't be true. Iron Man was such a brave fellow. He flew that nuke into the wormhole with zero hesitation; he had put himself in harm’s way time and time again. He heroically saved Mister Stark from Obadiah Stane, who manipulated his charge since a young age. Steve couldn't help but think of their relationship as a classic rescue romance, and he had even felt envious of Iron Man, wishing he could save Mister Stark and win his affections. But to learn that what he thought was a loving, supportive relationship was an absolute lie?
He felt angry and sickened. He wanted to find Iron Man right now and ram him up against a wall and demand answers, he--he--
He had to be jumping to conclusions. There must be a rational explanation for all of this. Iron Man was a hero. He wouldn't.
Steve managed to calm down, refusing to let anger cloud his judgement. He was going to find out exactly what was going on and go from there.
The sound of heavy boots neared him and he looked up to see Colonel Rhodes making his way towards the elevator, dressed in full Air Force garb. Steve straightened and prepared to salute the higher-ranking officer before Rhodes waved him off. “Captain Rogers, a pleasure to see you.”
“Please, call me Steve.”
“Then you can call me Jim,” he smiled. His eyes were creased with worry, but he masked it with his friendliness.
“You're leaving already?”
“Unfortunately. Technically I'm not even supposed to be here, but I decided to sneak away to check up on Tony.”
“Shame. Hopefully you can stay longer next time? Spend some time with team?”
“No doubt about it. Take care, Steve.” Jim patted his arm and once he stepped into the elevator, Steve waved goodbye to him.
Steve stared thoughtfully at the closed elevator doors when his phone beeped. It was a new text message, from Sam, saying that he was going to have to take a raincheck.
Well, it was the perfect opportunity to find out what was happening, straight from the source.
Back in the living room, he can see Mister Stark sitting in the loveseat, staring out one of the ceiling to floor windows. Steve cleared his throat and Tony turned to face him, surprise clearly on his face.
Steve sheepishly held up his phone. “My best friend just canceled on me, so I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me?”
“Sam?” Stark relaxed, a wry grin lighting up his features. “I could see him through these windows, chasing Thor. I think they both took off into the distance. Does he… do that often?”
“Only occasionally.” Steve shrugged. Sam was usually reliable, unless when it came to the god of thunder, who was considerably less so outside of a fight. “So…?”
Stark smiled sadly. “I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't leave this tower.”
“Then we can have it delivered. Lots of places do that now, don't they?”
Stark tilted his head. “That… actually sounds nice. Sure.” And he smiled. It wasn't one of those smiles patented for the media, but a softer one, even sad, and Steve felt honored for seeing this side of Mister Stark that so few saw.
They ended up agreeing on Greek, and Steve found himself sitting on the love seat next to Stark, eating a chicken gyro, the TV tuned to a random channel. He wasn't paying it much attention, instead listening to Stark describe what he'd been working on in his workshop.
“At first I was gonna make her a knockout powder disguised as face powder, but I'm really picky about its formulation, so I decided to make an electric baton for now,” Stark explained, talking through a mouth full of souvlaki. It was rather endearing to see him so completely relaxed in a cat T-shirt and jeans. “That's fine, right? I know she likes going right up to people and beating the shit out of them.”
“I'm sure Nat will love it, Mister Stark.”
His nose wrinkled. “Ugh, stop that, how many times do I have to tell you it's Tony?”
Steve ducked his head down, feeling his face flush. This always happened when it was only him and Stark, without Avenging being the main topic of conversation. He sternly reminded himself that Stark was only being friendly, nothing more, besides he had enough to stress about without Steve adding to his burden.
“Thank you for the hard work you do for the team,” Steve said, looking back up when he felt the heat in his cheeks subside. “Even though you don't fight with us, you are invaluable to us.”
Tony’s smile faltered for a moment. “Yeah, I know the support of Iron Man is the main benefit of our arrangement.” His voice went a little flat.
Christ, Steve couldn't say anything without inadvertently reminding Tony of his partner. “No, I-I meant you , Tony.” Tony peeked up at the mention of his name. “I see all the time and energy you put in upgrading our gear, making us better weapons, while still running your company and creating new Iron Man suits. You like to act as if it's no big deal, but it is. Hell, you even put us in your own home.”
“You're making me blush, Cap.” And there was that soft smile of his, that no one but a select few get to see. “And I'm not nearly as impressive as you make me sound. I've got Pepper to help run the company for me.”
“Not impressi -- Tony, you built JARVIS, you designed this tower, you even made this mini computer I carry in my pocket, the best smartphone I ever used--”
“--the only smartphone you ever used--”
“--I stand by my words,” Steve said firmly. “Who the hell ever gave you the idea that you're not impressive?”
Tony shrugged. “So… you like JARVIS?” He asked shyly.
“I love JARVIS.” Steve felt sheepish for the declaration, but he pressed on. “I ended up relying on him way more than the introduction packets SHIELD gave me when I woke up.”
“That's not surprising,” Tony muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, “I’m glad he could help. I know everything must have been a shock.”
“I managed.” Steve smiled at the memory of himself sitting alone at the mess hall in the helicarrier, when a charming Mister Stark strolled in to tell him to pack his bags, that they were breaking him out. Steve had only managed to stammer out a “yes,” halfway to saluting him before remembering that he was a civilian, not an officer. “But seriously, thank you for everything .”
“Glad to be of use.” Tony turned back to look at the TV, where a woman was professing her love to a douchey 20-year-old kid with a bad haircut. “Uh, do you watch this show often?”
“Sometimes. It's Clint’s show, and he hogs the control and makes everyone else watch it. Why?”
“Has anyone introduced you to the Great British Bake Off?”
Steve spent the rest of the evening there, laughing at Tony’s jokes and trying to make him laugh at his. Tony was open and relaxed, and Steve managed to push aside his anxieties for the night.
“On your left,” Sam shouted. He flew low and kicked at a robot that was sneaking up on Steve’s blind spot.
Steve let out an exhilarated laugh. “Still sore about that?”
“You're an ass,” came Sam’s intelligent, well thought out response, as he took off to the sky again. Steve turned to bash his shield against another creeping robot, still grinning.
Maybe it said something about Steve that he was taking so much enjoyment out of destroying these doombots. There was always a thrill in the fight, along with a release of tension, and lately he had been more angry than usual. He almost felt bad for being grateful that Doctor Doom decided to attack Central Park.
He finished the last of the robots by him, severing its metal head with the edge of his shield. It broke up into pieces and fell by his feet; he kicked it mindlessly. “Natasha, have more doombots showed up?” he said into his mic.
“No, it seems like it's thinning out,” she replied. She grunted, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal crunching and sparking. “I think they were sent just to cause a general panic. Doesn't look like they had a specific target in mind.”
“They have been behaving erratically,” Iron Man added. Steve’s jaw clenched before he consciously relaxed it. “I could take one, bring it to Stark so he could double check, you know, make him useful for once,” he joked.
“Fine,” Steve bit out, cutting Clint off from making a no doubt smart-ass comment. “Let’s wrap this up and get to debriefing.” All that tension that he thought he expelled came back, as if he hadn't just spent two hours smashing doombots.
Back in the tower, they filed dutifully into the conference room. Steve lingered at the back of the room for a moment, watching the team laughing and joking. Iron Man dropped the broken doombots into a heap at a corner of the room, returning to Bruce’s side to make a snide joke about “the big guy.” Sam leaned in to tap at Iron Man’s head playfully, calling him “Shellhead,” the nickname Steve came up for their beloved mysterious Avenger.
“They have their perfect Iron Man. I can't ruin that for them.”
“All right, calm down,” Steve blurted out, moving to the head of the table. “Let’s get through this quickly so we can all finally rest for the day.”
He noticed his teammates were sharing apprehensive and questioning looks, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
They went around the room, explaining in detail what happened and what they did, and suggestions for improvements in the future. Steve bit his tongue every time Iron Man spoke, and when it came to Iron Man’s turn, Steve stared at the wall behind his head so he wouldn't have to stare at his glowing eye holes.
“So I swooped in to save Clint’s ass and then -- Steve, are you listening?” Iron Man asked, his tone bewildered.
Steve moved his eyes back to Iron Man, watching him tilt his head, a motion Steve once thought endearing. “Yes. Go on.”
“Uh, right, as I was saying…”
The debriefing finally ended, but right as Steve was about to leave the room in pursuit of a long, relaxing shower, Iron Man tapped him on the shoulder. “Cap, can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure,” Steve muttered. They waited in the room until the rest of the Avengers dispersed, and Steve turned towards Iron Man. “Is something wrong?”
“Is something --” Iron Man exclaimed. “Steve, what's the matter with you? You've been so distant lately and then today… Are you feeling okay? You want to talk about it? You don't have to go through it alone.”
Steve nearly saw red. How dare he? Steve opened up to him, about how hard it was adjusting to this new life, how much he missed the Bucky he used to know, how he sometimes wished he died with his generation. And to have Iron Man throw it back at him, implying that the tension between them was all on Steve, as if Iron Man was the innocent party here.
“Oh, don't even,” Steve nearly shouted. “I know the rest of the team loves you, but don't forget, ‘Shellhead,’ that I see you. You can't fool everyone.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” The hurt was evident in Iron Man’s voice, but Steve refused to let it sway him. He felt so stupid for believing him in the first place.
“Why don't you just go to Tony and take care of him for a change?”
Steve turned and stalked out of the conference room, and for once Iron Man didn't have a smart comeback.
A couple hours was enough for Steve to realize how badly he handled his encounter with Iron Man. He had promised himself that he wasn't going to jump to conclusions, that he would wait for more definitive evidence, but as always his emotions got the best of him once again. Steve laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep like this. What if he got this completely wrong (he hoped he got it wrong) and all he did today was hurt one of his best friends. Iron Man really did sound like he had no idea what Steve was talking about.
He rolled over to stare at his alarm clock. It was still early, only nine, and he wondered if maybe he should go looking for Iron Man to apologize. He had no idea how he would explain away his behavior.
In the end, he stood up, deciding he will check on Tony. They have been spending more time together, some of it even in Tony’s workshop, where Tony showed him all his current projects and his latest update for the suit. He hadn't seen Tony in a few days and missed having him around.
He was surprised by how easily he and Tony got along. One of the reasons Steve had never before accepted Tony’s offers of friendship was that he didn't really think he and a billionaire genius had much in common. For all his charm, he never seemed approachable to Steve, like Steve would only waste his precious time.
At the workshop, he saw that the glass wasn't blacked out, which is what usually happened when Tony wanted privacy. Steve took it as a sign that he was available to talk and headed for the door, from where he could see Tony bent over the table, probably working.
Steve opened the door, calling out Tony’s name, and Tony whirled around at the sound of his voice, his hands dropping from his midsection.
But Steve already saw. Right when he entered the workshop, he saw Tony had lifted his shirt, his fingers skimming over his own blackened flesh.
Steve froze.
Tony laughed nervously, his eyes darting but refusing to look him in the eye. “Oh, hey, Cap, didn't see you there. What are you doing up? Couldn't sleep again?”
He looked exhausted with heavy shadows under his eyes and his hair greasy and unwashed. His shoulders were hunched and Steve could tell just by his posture that he was favoring his left side. His usual brilliant smile was dimmed.
It was a miracle that Steve managed to remain calm, instead of becoming enraged and immediately hunting for Iron Man. He asked, “Tony, where did you get those bruises?”
Tony was already dismissing the question, waving his hand as if to ward it away, but still not looking at Steve. “I like to box with my head of security, Happy Hogan. We were both pretty enthusiastic about it, and hell, who wouldn't want an excuse to hit their boss? He must have been especially annoyed at me today, which isn't a surprise.” Tony tried to shrug casually but failed.
“Tony, those kinds of bruises aren't what you'd get from friendly boxing.”
“I don't know what to tell you, Steve, because that's where they’re from. Like I said, Happy and I have our own version of boxing, and safety is for cowards.” Tony smirked. He seemed more confident, his bravado returning.
But Steve knew the look on Tony’s face when he came in. Terror, panic, the look of someone who knew they had to something secret no matter what, because that secret would be so devastating if others knew. Tony was shaking then, so openly vulnerable.
Christ.
“You can tell me anything, if you need to,” Steve said gently, despite the swirl of emotions inside.
“Well, I don't,” Tony said bluntly. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” He turned back towards a bench, grabbing a screwdriver, and Steve left the workshop, knowing a dismissal when he saw one. As soon as he stepped out, the windows darkened, the mechanical sounds of the door whirling as it locked down.
Staring at the darkened windows, an awful feeling washed over Steve: it was his fault. He shouldn't have confronted Iron Man about it, he should've kept his mouth shut and his temper in check. Iron Man must have realized that Steve figured it out, and he had blamed Tony for it. Those bruises looked so painful.
Steve felt like he was losing his mind. He was way out of his element, he realized that now. He could only think of one person who had more experience in interpersonal stuff who could definitely tell him whether he was right or wrong. How he hoped he was wrong.
Outside of Sam's quarters, he knocked insistently on his front door. It was unlikely Sam was asleep at this time.
The door swung backwards while Steve was still knocking, only for Sam to appear behind it, looking annoyed. “Why are you knocking like some five-year-old?”
“I need an adult.”
He snorted. “And why do you think I'm that?”
“You're better with people.”
“Thought you went to Nat for girl talk,” Sam said.
“No, it’s -- Can I come in, please?” He added quietly.
Sam’s playful expression disappeared, replaced with one of worry. He opened his door wide to let Steve come into his living room. Steve sat down heavily on the couch, staring at his hands, wondering where he was going to begin.
“What happened?” Sam asked, direct when needed.
“Have you noticed that Tony has been acting... strange lately?”
“Uh, well I don't really see the guy as often as you or Bruce.” Sam gave him a scrutinizing look.
“Whenever Iron Man’s brought up, Tony…” He couldn't verbalize it, the way Tony stiffens or laughs awkwardly when Steve referenced their relationship. How neither of them acted like two people who were passionately in love. “He-he has bruises,” Steve said helplessly and Sam’s frown deepened.
“Are you saying what I think you're saying? How did this all started?”
Steve explained how several times he found Tony with fresh, dark bruises and how evasive he was in answering how he had gotten them. He explained how he overheard Tony and Jim’s conversation, and how weird Iron Man acted every time his partner was brought up. He finished with his worry that he made the situation worse, and Sam sighed and shook his head.
“Honestly, I have a hard time believing Iron Man would do something like that,” Sam admitted.
“So do I. I kept ignoring it for weeks, thinking I was overreacting, but I can't just ignore this anymore. If Iron Man really is abusing Tony, I can't sit by and let my friend get hurt.”
“Steve, before you go running off to beat up Iron Man, I really think you should tell Tony about your concern. Offer your help, see how he reacts. This might just be a huge misunderstanding. But if it isn't, then we'll deal with it as a team and help him.” Sam hesitated and then added, “Maybe talk to him when you're calmer.”
“I'm calm,” Steve protested.
“You're digging gouges into my sofa.”
Steve quickly let go of the arm of the sofa. “I think I'll wait ‘til tomorrow.”
The minute Steve left his workshop Tony knew he fucked up. He knew he fucked up the minute he heard Steve’s voice and suddenly he realized he had forgotten to put the shop into lockdown. He wanted to run after Steve and apologize for snapping at him, for lying to him, for continuing on this whole stupid charade.
Captain America and Iron Man were best friends, a bond forged from the dangers of their occupation and their decision to face those dangers together. Steve Rogers’ and Tony Stark’s relationship, on the other hand, was still blooming and fragile, like a plant that you had to measure out its needs carefully and not drown it in attention and anxiety. Just when Steve and Tony were becoming friends, Tony had to ruin it. Now Steve didn't like him in either his identities.
He had no idea what Iron Man did, but he knew it was also his fault. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, or forgetting something important were Tony’s frequent failings.
“Dammit,” Tony muttered to himself, and winced as pain flared up on his side. He was so frantic to conceal his secret that he forgot that he could be hurting his best friend. He needed to make this up to Steve, somehow.
Maybe he should just listen to Rhodey and tell the team that he was Iron Man. He came up with the lie so the baggage that was Tony Stark would not ruin the heroic Iron Man. He thought the team, especially Steve, would want nothing to do with him beyond funding. But somehow, Steve didn't let the public opinion of Tony Stark infest their relationship; he was even admiring, praising Tony for his creations and his generosity. If he told the team Iron Man was actually Tony Stark, maybe they would be fine with it?
It seemed too good to be true. Maybe it was. But it was getting painful lying to Steve even now, switching between identities, pretending to be dating himself when what he really wanted was to take Steve out the old-fashioned way.
“One thing at a time,” Tony muttered.
He stumbled over to his workbench and sat down heavily to the stool, lighting up a holographic projection with his fingers. He knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight, too preoccupied to be able to calm his thoughts and rest. In the meantime, he might as well start on the next Iron Man suit.
He didn't resurface again until the next day at noon when JARVIS started blaring alarms at every direction. He lifted his head and blinked at the ceiling, a habit he had picked up from the other Avengers. “I'm busy, J.”
“I see that, sir, but Captain Rogers is waiting to speak to you.”
Tony swiveled on the stool to the direction of the door, where he saw Steve standing, holding a brown paper bag and coffee.
A peace offering. Tony gritted his teeth. Of course Steve would be the first to apologize, even though he had every right to be frustrated with Tony’s secrecy. Tony waved a hand in the door’s direction and it swung open to let the captain in.
“Hey, Tony,” Steve said, giving him a sheepish smile. “Thought you could use a break.”
Tony made grabby hands at the coffee. When Steve passed it over, Tony drank a fourth of it, scalding his tongue but giving no care to the pain. “Thanks,” Tony said with a satisfied sigh.
Steve shuffled in his spot and Tony tensed. Of course it wasn't ‘everything back to normal,’ of course Steve wanted to talk about it. “I need to ask you something.” Steve lifted his head with a determined expression. Tony braced himself.
Tony was hoping for more time to prepare emotionally for telling Steve the truth, but it looked like he wouldn't get that option. He just hoped Steve would forgive him.
“Are you…” Steve started to flush, but he continued, “...are you happy in your relationship with Iron Man?”
What? “What?” Tony asked, dumbfounded.
“Are you happy with Iron Man?”
This was not what he was expecting. “Uh, well, yes?” Tony winced. That shouldn't sound skeptical. “I mean, we’ve been together for two years now. And, um, we have good times… together.”
“Do you love him?”
Tony stared at Steve, whose sheepishness was now lost and he looked more sure of himself. “Steve, why are you asking me this?”
“I'm worried, Tony. I've seen those bruises.”
“Yeah, I mean, I am pretty clumsy,” Tony said, echoing the typical excuse. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You don't have to lie for him,” Steve told him gently. “I overheard you and Jim talking. I'm sorry,” he added quickly at Tony’s confused look. “I know it's rude, but I ended hearing you two anyway. And I heard Jim wanting you to tell the Avengers that,” Steve paused, as if trying to prepare himself, for what Tony had no idea. “That Iron Man has been abusing you.”
Oh. Tony blinked. Oh no.
He stared up at Steve, magnificent, beautiful, clueless Steve, who was standing there righteously. Steve's hands were flexing, as if he wanted to find Iron Man right now and give him a piece of his mind, and Tony didn't know if he wanted to laugh, or run away. Shit, he should have known that sooner or later someone would have misinterpreted his self-loathing for domestic abuse.
Tony pushed down the giddiness, pushed down the disbelief that somehow his secret was still a secret, and said, “Steve, I think you've misinterpreted what Rhodey said. Iron Man isn't abusing me.” He couldn't help but let his disbelief color his words.
“I know you don't see it that way,” Steve murmured. “I did some research. I read that abused people often refuse to recognize what is happening to them. But Tony, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm here if you need my help.”
Tony was sure that if he was actually being abused, Steve would have been endlessly supportive. He shook his head. “I'm not abused. I'm sure of it. Iron Man has never laid a hand on me.”
Steve was still looking skeptical and Tony knew he wasn't going to drop it easily. He sighed. He might as well reveal the truth then.
“Hold on,” Tony muttered. He reached for the suitcase armor that lay on the floor next to the workbench and triggered the mechanism, bringing it to his chest. The armor enwrapped him in under a minute and he watched Steve, confused but still righteous.
The helmet closed over his head and the eye holes glowed with power from the arc reactor. His voice modified by the armor, he proclaimed, “I am Iron Man.”
He watched as Steve’s face shuttered into a blank slate. After a heavy moment, Steve turned and left the workshop without a single word, leaving Tony behind.
Sam did say he was being hasty, Steve thought bitterly. Once again he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing his brain would shut off. It had been a few days since he had confronted Tony about the “abuse,” days that Steve had spent reexamining every interaction he had with Tony and Iron Man. He remembered how he first learned about their romance from Natasha and he remembered every time one of the pair had mentioned the other. Everything made sense now.
And he felt stupid. He felt so stupid. He was so sure of what was going on. He thought he would just march into the workshop and tell Tony that he knew, that he would help. Steve had a whole fantasy about it, where he’d protect Tony from his cruel lover and then, maybe, after he had healed from the experience, Tony would admit his new romantic feelings for Steve.
Steve turned to his side violently. Tony must have been laughing at him. It must have been a hilarious joke, befriending him in both identities. Steve misconstruing the “romance” must have been the cherry on top of a great prank.
Fuck it, he knew he wasn't sleeping.
When he reached the kitchen, he fought the urge to turn and run back into his room when he saw Tony, but it was too late. He'd already seen him.
Steve slunk in the room warily, but Tony ignored him, too focused on his bourbon and his phone. Steve turned to the refrigerator to pull out his milk, deciding he would also ignore the other man.
Halfway through heating the drink, Tony said, “I'm sorry.”
Steve inhaled, keeping his gaze focused on the microwave. “Don't be, I'm sure it was hilarious.”
“I wasn't trying to make fun of you.”
The microwave beeped at him but Steve ignored it in favor of turning to face Tony. He had put down his phone and was staring back at Steve. He didn't look like he was laughing.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Steve demanded. “Why did you let me think you were in a relationship with yourself?”
“It was easier.” Tony shrugged. “It's hard to keep Iron Man’s identity a secret, when we’re rarely seen in a room together and he’s always with the Avengers when he's supposed to be my bodyguard. The tabloids came up with the idea of this rescue romance between us, and it helped. People usually don't think a couple is actually the same person.”
“But why pretend you're not Iron Man? Why not just tell the team the truth, at least?”
Tony glanced down, thumbing the glass in his hand. “I didn't think any of you would want me on the team. Textbook narcissism, remember?”
“Don't be ridiculous.” The forceful tone of Steve’s voice made Tony look back up, wide-eyed. “You've always been a hero, even without the suit. You were a hero when you decided to stop making weapons and start making technology to improve people’s lives. You were a hero when you created the Maria Stark Foundation. The suit isn't what makes Iron Man, you are.”
There was a full beat of silence before Steve realized what he said and started blushing. He turned back towards the microwave, using the excuse to prepare his milk to keep his red face hidden.
Once he was sure his face had returned to its normal color, he turned back with his drink to see that Tony was regarding him thoughtfully. Steve added as a final thought, “You're too hard on yourself.”
Tony frowned but didn't try to argue with it.
“I'm still mad at you.”
Tony began to smile. “In my defense, I had no idea you took it as Iron Man abusing me.”
“You had all these bruises and kept trying to hide them! What did you expect me to think?”
Tony laughed. “Sorry.”
“You can make it up to me.”
Tony raised his eyebrow expectantly.
“How do you feel about Thai food?”