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“Pepper, Pepper, Pepper,” Tony said, turning his wrist and sitting back on his stool. He rolled his neck too, for good measure; circuitry in the finger joints of the armor was a bitch to repair, though absolutely necessary if he wanted any sort of mobility. Not that he had a whole lot of mobility at the moment. His last outing had left him mottled with bruises and persistent back pain. Once he’d finished repairs, he was going to start on upgrades to the under armor. “I am shocked—positively shocked, I tell you—that you would accuse me of being purposely reckless.”
“Of course you are,” Pepper replied flatly. She stood in the doorway of his workshop, hands folded across her chest in an excellent impression of every single person Tony had ever disappointed. “Do I really have to remind you that every time you put that thing on, you’re not just endangering yourself, which is bad enough? I can’t keep covering for you at your board meetings. They don’t want to hear excuses from me, they want to see you. If you don’t want to lose your company, you’re going to need to put your toys away and do some actual work.”
Tony’s mouth twisted in a frown. Low blow.
“So,” she continued, clearly on a roll, “I need you to get up, take a shower, get dressed, and go do something useful—”
“—The Iron Man is useful. He saves lives, which is more than the board—”
“—for this company, starting with the meeting with SHIELD you keep putting off. No one over there is taking me seriously I’ve rescheduled so many times. So many times, Tony.”
“I saved lives,” Tony said, pushing away from his bench. Not because Pepper had told him to, but…partly because Pepper had told him to, and she was usually right about these things. “It’s not my fault it meant knocking down Hammer’s dinky little building, but, hey. I’d argue that that was also a public service. Even his architecture is subpar.”
“Go, Tony,” Pepper said, taking a step back so that she could glare Tony out of the shop and up the stairs. “I’ve left a suit on the bed for you.”
“For the record, I’m an adult. I can dress myself.” Tony paused on the staircase and turned to give Pepper his best, please-forgive-me smile. “Buy yourself something nice on me?”
Pepper’s mouth twitched in a near smile.
“Just go see what Nick wants, please.”
“An engineer would be cheaper.”
“And couldn’t do the things I need you to do. Are you going to play ball, Stark, or do I need to make calls elsewhere?”
Tony looked from Fury’s eye, to the eyepatch.
“The eye.” Fury cleared his throat and looked…a little ticked off. Tony supposed it was because he’d been putting Fury off for the better part of five weeks, but. Tony’s time was valuable, and Fury wasn’t really the kind of person to ask nicely.
“Fine, but I don’t want your suits lurking while I work. It’s distracting and annoying.”
“Deal.”
Fury stood up, waited until Tony got to his feet too. Just to be contrary, Tony didn’t, smiling up at Fury from the hard plastic chair.
“SI doesn’t do military anymore,” Tony reminded him. “Nothing I build is weaponizable.”
“And?”
“Just reminding you,” Tony said. He got to his feet and patted Fury on the shoulder. His grin only grew wider when Fury didn’t knock his hand away but furrowed his brow and looked a little more irritated. “Smile, Nicky. SHIELD’s about to enter the 21st century, finally.”
There was a knock, and a tall, broad blond man in all black strode in, purposeful and intent—only to stop short when he noticed Tony.
“Oh. Director Fury,” the man said. “I thought you were alone, sorry.”
“Rogers,” Fury shrugged Tony off and put some distance between them, “allow me to introduce—”
“—Tony Stark,” Tony interrupted, stepping around Fury so he could offer tall, blond, and bemused a hand. “Yes, I’m that Stark. I’m also a Gemini, which I think explains a lot, actually.”
“He’ll be taking over R&D for a few months,” Fury said, raising his voice to talk over Tony while Rogers openly looked Tony up and down, sizing him up. “I…have other things I need to do. Can I trust you to get him there in one piece?” Fury paused, then added, “If you can’t, I wouldn’t blame you. He is a pain in the ass.”
“Yep,” Tony agreed. “But I know the way, thanks. Remember when I said you’d be entering the 21st century? That means a secure system that other people can’t hack on a whim.”
Fury rolled his eye.
“I’ll escort you,” Rogers said. “It’s not safe for a civilian to wander around, anyway.” He looked to Fury. “I was just going to tell you that I think you were right.”
“Hah! Okay, then get him where he’s going and I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Fury said. Then he waved his hands at both of them. “Get your asses out of here. I need to make sure the world doesn’t explode.” Tony was pretty sure the click as the door shut behind them was the lock, which made him snort. As if a lock could really keep him out of anything.
Rogers set off at a fairly brisk pace down the hall, apparently confident that Tony would follow along obediently.
Tony followed.
“You’re big,” Tony said. Rhodey had told him many times that he was in love with the sound of his own voice, but that wasn’t true at all. Tony’s brain just had an irritating tendency to run a mile a minute, and it was easier, and more interesting, to get some of it out than it was to pretend at deep introspection. “You can tell me honestly. Is it steroids? Because it looks like some kind of steroids. No offense.”
“No, it’s not steroids,” Rogers said. “I don’t do drugs.”
“No? What about drinks? I know a fantastic place a couple of hours away, if you don’t mind a quick flight and dealing with customs.”
Rogers shot him a glance as they turned a corner.
“Did you just ask me on a date in…Europe?”
“Portugal,” Tony agreed. “It’s been a tragically long time since I’ve been and I’m betting you’d really enjoy it.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Rogers pointed out, but he was smiling a little. “Maybe I’m not, um, queer.”
“Plenty of people aren’t into labels.”
“Maybe I don’t like to travel,” Rogers tried.
“You’d be a pretty lousy SHIELD agent, then.”
That got Tony a chuckle.
“Maybe,” Rogers allowed, still laughing. “Okay. I’ve heard an awful lot about you, Mr. Stark, and I guess I have a proposition for you. Find out one thing about me that isn’t public knowledge and maybe I’ll consider your offer.”
Tony thrilled at the thought of a challenge.
“Hey.” Rogers caught him by the sleeve, and Tony looked up at him, startled. Wow, Tony thought, are his eyes blue. That can’t be natural. “You almost passed the labs. I think Fitz and his gang are in there right now. They can help you get set up. If you have questions, I’d ask them.”
“And where will you be?” Tony asked, before he could stop himself.
“Around,” Rogers said with a bright smile. “Good luck, Mr. Stark.”
“So,” Tony said at the start of day three. Pepper, predictably, had been over the moon that he’d finally decided to take on work. Paying work. The Iron Man was definitely a job in and of itself, but not the kind that resulted in personal profit beyond a deep, soul-level contentment. “What do you know about Rogers?”
“His work on microfluidics is unparalleled! Why? Do you know him? Can you introduce me? I’ve been dying to ask for his take on my own research on nanophotonic structures. It’d be a dream to work with him.”
Fitz was Tony’s kind of guy. He spoke quickly in a high level techno-science babble that left most of the room, despite their combined experience and range of interests, shaking their head. He helped Tony get a workstation put together and was kind enough to pretend not to notice when Tony didn’t need helping accessing SHIELD’s secure files.
“Not that Rogers,” Tony said. “Big guy. Blond. Looks like he has trouble fitting through regular-sized doorframes.”
“Ah, Steven,” Fitz said with a knowing nod. “Steve. He looks like the sort to want to throw you about, doesn’t he? But he’s actually quite kind the few times we’ve met.”
“Steve.” Tony hummed thoughtfully. Steve Rogers wasn’t exactly an uncommon name. Something like 75% of men Tony’s age were called Steve, and Rogers was among the most common American surnames. He could, and would, do a search, but he doubted he’d find anything that way. “Anything else?” Tony propped his chin in his hand, lazily tapping through the schematics he’d just finished drawing up.
“Er, he’s a soldier, I think?” Fitz’s face screwed up in thought. “I mean, some sort of military, I’ve always assumed. He’s got that sort of bearing, you know?”
That narrowed things a little. Maybe Rhodey would know of a Steve Rogers, ex-military, agent of SHIELD.
“And he’s a specialist,” Fitz added. “He never goes out with my team—not, you know, that we’ve been out all that much either, lately. But Steve almost always goes it alone, I reckon, or he’s subbing in with other teams as needed.” Fitz waved away the hologram hovering at eye level and gave Tony a suspicious look. “Why?”
“Can’t I be curious without people questioning my motives?” Tony grumbled.
“I haven’t known you very long, but even I know the answer to that question.”
“This is why I don’t go out of my way to make friends,” Tony said. “We aren’t friends.” He got up and stretched, yawning, and trailed Fitz to the coffeemaker on the opposite side of the room. He’d thought it was incredibly inefficient to keep it so far from their actual workstations, but he now appreciated the excuse to stretch.
“Oh no. I’m devastated,” Fitz said, deadpan.
Tony had shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves so he could get his hands dirty without also ruining a particularly nice Tom Ford. He’d still ended up getting oil on his shirtfront. He sighed and tossed his tie over his shoulder so that he didn’t get oil on the silk.
“Gee, I wish I had a camera.”
“Did you seriously just say ‘gee’?” Tony demanded, glancing over his shoulder. Steve was dressed down in tight-fitting athletic wear that made Tony’s mouth water, just a little. “Just how old are you, Steve?”
Steve, to his credit, didn’t look at all surprised.
“No? I thought it was pretty nifty that I figured out that much.” Tony rolled a gear through his fingers, feeling for imperfections. It was slightly warped, which wasn’t a good sign for the other essential pieces in the landing gear for any of the jets. That’s what happens when you pay for shoddy work to try to save a few bucks.
“What are you doing?” Steve crowded into his space so he could peer over Tony’s shoulder at the mechanism under his hands. “This is essential gear, Mr. Stark. I hope you plan on putting it back together again.”
“Tony.”
“What?”
“Call me Tony,” Tony clarified. “And, yes, I will fix this, once I’ve finished tearing it apart to see what, exactly, is wrong with it. Before you say it, yes, there is absolutely something wrong because, one, I didn’t build it and, two, Fury’s paying me to correct these problems.”
“I wasn’t doubting you, Tony,” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Just wondering if you were hungry yet.”
Tony automatically looked to his watch, but the face was also covered in oil and therefore unreadable.
“It’s almost one thirty,” Steve said. “I was going to go off base. You’re welcome to join me.”
“Sure,” Tony said, giving it all up as a bad job and wiping his hands on his trousers. At least they were black; no one would notice unless they looked very closely. “While we’re eating, you can tell me all about whatever mission it is you’ve been away on that’s kept you away for eleven and a half days.” He picked up his jacket and slid it on, smoothed his tie back down over his shirt. He was probably mostly presentable. Not Pepper presentable, but Steve smiled when Tony ran a hand through his hair, so—presentable.
“If I did, I’d have to kill you,” Steve said.
“That joke’s only funny when you aren’t working for a shady government organization that does that kind of thing on a regular basis,” Tony shot back. He fell into step with Steve, who had his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “Interesting, though, that it all seems to be off-book.”
Steve shook his head, lips curving up slightly at the corners.
“If you aren’t going to tell me about your Bond routine, then I suppose I’ll have to bore you with the details of my last board meeting. Did you know that not even contracting with SHIELD has been enough to get me out of those? Trust me, Steve. You don’t want to start your own company, let alone play several roles in said company. It’s a headache on a good day.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Steve said solemnly.
Tony grinned.
Steve’s favorite lunch place was an old diner a few blocks away from the building Fury claimed was SHIELD’s real HQ (It wasn’t, Tony knew it wasn’t, and Tony knew that Fury knew that Tony knew it wasn’t, but that hadn’t yet become an issue). It was a mom and pop joint run by a married couple well into their golden years. The wife brightened up every time she caught sight of Steve, and he was enough of a regular that they not only knew his order, but often insisted on discounting it.
Tony, too, was becoming a regular. He’d never been a regular anywhere before, let alone a place cheap enough to have laminated menu cards and resin tabletops, but there was something charmingly Americana about the whole thing, and the food really was delicious. He wouldn’t have minded walking over just for the onion rings, but the fact that Steve was the one bringing him over at least once a week for almost a month…
“You’ve never had fries and chocolate malt?” Steve asked, surprised. “I guess money can’t buy everything, huh?”
“It’s less a money thing and more a taste thing,” Tony said. “I have a lot of both.”
“Mhmm.” Steve was unimpressed. He pushed his chocolate malt across the table. “Go on, give it a try.”
Tony gave the glass a dubious look.
“It’s not going to kill you, I promise.”
“I just—what? Dip my fries in there?” Tony picked up a fry and tapped it against the plate. “Messy.”
“And delicious. Stop stalling, Tony.”
“I love a man who takes charge,” Tony said. He winked at Steve, but did as he was told, dipping his fry in the thick malt. He had to admit it: It did taste pretty damned good. He made a vague noise. “Okay, okay, fine. You were right. You’re not getting this malt back, sorry, not sorry. I’m starting a love affair over here.”
“I’ll say.” Steve’s cheeks were a faint pink. “Should I leave you to it?”
Tony shook his head and pushed his plate between them, a wordless offer to share. Steve only waited a moment before digging in, fingers brushing against Tony’s every now and then.
“Did you give up?”
“Sorry?” Tony asked around a mouthful of malt and fries. “Oh, you mean trying to learn all of your deep, dark secrets? Yes and no. I—” He stopped abruptly, his phone buzzing in his pocket in a distinct pattern. A pattern he’d set to the news alerts he’d set when he’d started going out as the Iron Man. “I’m sorry, I—”
“—Have to take this,” Steve said at the same time.
They stared at each other over the cheap table.
“SHIELD,” Steve said.
“Oh, uh. SI business. May be related to whatever your SHIELD thing is, but who’s to say, really?” Tony picked his sunglasses up off the table and pulled a hundred dollar bill from the money clip in his breast pocket. “Let’s raincheck this and pick back up later? Say, tomorrow?”
Steve nodded, and, for an awkward few moments, they had to leave together, squeezing through the door at the same time in an effort to get out as quickly as possible. Tony pretended to call a car and waited on the curb as Steve turned and jogged back up the street towards the SHIELD building. As soon as he was out of sight, Tony was turning into the alley beside the diner and activating his bracelets. They warmed a little as the programming ran and the Mark VII sped from the tower to his location.
As he waited for the Iron Man to come to him, Tony thought about Steve and wondered what he was doing.
Captain America, in theory, was a joke. Everyone was at least a little familiar with Cap’s exploits with his Howling Commandos; those stories were repeated endlessly every Captain America Day. Tony had never been a particularly big fan, not because he had anything personally against Captain America (though he did hate him, just a little, for occupying so much of Howard’s free time), but because he was boring. Captain America was too good, too boring, too everything, to capture Tony’s interest very much.
Captain America, in person, was something else.
He’d come out just after Tony had perfected the Mark II, and, at first, Tony hadn’t known what to think. Then he’d just kept coming—had even worked with Tony a couple of times—and Tony, grudgingly, found him to be an excellent partner. For one, Cap was incredibly smart. He had an intuition for geometry that astounded Tony, and a knack for strategy that was almost equally amazing. Mostly, though, he actually took the time to check in and make sure Tony was still with him, and that was pretty great.
Except for right now.
“Iron Man! What are you doing here? Get out of the way!”
Tony, who had been very good and not put on the armor in almost all the time he’d spent working for Fury, scowled inside his helmet. He hated being told what to do. Coming to a particularly hard landing next to Cap—Tony was privately pleased to see Cap stumble a little with the blowback—and had JARVIS lock in on the kid down the street.
“What are we looking at, Cap?” he asked, turning as he spoke, only to stop short. He knew that jawline and those blue, blue eyes. Tony’s eyes widened. Holy shit. This isn’t Steve.
“A kid who melts things,” Cap said tightly. “Metal things. You need to get out of here. Now.”
Holy shit. It is Steve, Tony thought.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine,” Tony said. “Long as he doesn’t melt the chest plate or helmet. I need those to survive, but the rest is fair game. Hey, let’s see if my modified repulsors are any good, shall we?” He lifted a hand and shot a repulsor at Meltie. It knocked the kid off his feet for approximately a minute. Then he was up and running at them, hands outstretched.
“I’ve got this,” Cap said, steeling himself for a fight. He seemed pretty mad. He usually liked to make speeches at Tony. “Please, just—get out of here. The last thing I need is you dying on my watch.”
“No offense, Cap, but this feels a little personal,” Tony said, rising a few feet into the air.
“Yeah, well,” Cap said, and, yes, he was mad. He sounded frustrated. “It is. I had to run out on a date.”
Tony almost dropped out of the air. Date?
“Iron Man? Are you okay? At least put a few blocks between us until I have the hostile subdued.”
“Right. Yes. Thanks,” Tony said jerkily, and he blasted away in an unsteady arc.
Tony knew that he was distracted. That was not really ideal for an engineer, but especially not for an engineer like Tony Stark, doing precision work that, in this case, could mean the difference between a proper circuit and a bomb. He sighed heavily. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Steve had said—because Tony was certain Steve was Captain America. Even in the cowl, Steve’s voice was familiar, and Tony was easily able to recognize his handsome face underneath the suggestion of a mask.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Fitz came over and leaned against Tony’s bench, near Tony’s right elbow.
“Stock’s never been higher,” Tony said. He squinted and completed another path in the circuit. “And, fine, I’ll say it. It’s nice to be pulling a paycheck again.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Fitz said, and Tony carefully set his soldering iron aside. Fitz gave Tony an assessing look. “I’ll admit I’m not the best at—you know, love and all that, but…I’m not blind. Steve hasn’t been by in a week. Did you finally run him off?”
“He’s not into labels,” Tony said automatically, then shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, except that he’s busy saving the world, or whatever it is he does.”
“‘Whatever it is he does’ was supposed to be vacation.” Fury’s cape billowed behind him in a way Tony found irritatingly over the top. What was the point of wearing a trench coat inside? Together with the leather gloves, the tall boots, and the eyepatch, Fury was moments away from being a pirate. “Of course, he’s not done that because he’s spent all his free time hanging out here and taking you on scenic lunch dates.”
There was that word again. Tony’s stomach did an odd flip.
“Truly, you are a pain in the ass,” Fury continued. “But, goddamn, you do good work. Those jets you modified have performed even better than we anticipated.”
“You’re starting to repeat yourself,” Tony pointed out. “But, yes, they did because I made them.” He picked up his soldering iron again to give himself something to do other than ask Fury why Steve might’ve given up his vacation to spend time with Tony. He’d still not managed to wrap his mind around the concept of a date, let alone take into account this brand new information.
Tony cursed and stuck his finger in his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so off his game that he’d burned himself while soldering.
“Yeah, well, it bears repeating,” Fury said. “Fitz, walk with me. Stark, you and I are going to have a heart-to-heart when your contract is up.”
“Ominous. Love it.” Tony kept his attention firmly on the circuit board under his hands. “Feel free to stop by for another chat. This has been too much fun.”
Fury hummed and waited for Fitz to fall in line. Tony give it five minutes, then gave up the pretense of working, sitting back heavily in his chair. He needed a plan. It was an engineering problem, essentially: If he approached this in the wrong way, everything could blow up in his face.
“Shit.”
“Hey, Cap. Long time no see.” He’d had years of feigning innocence and ignorance, and it worked in his favor now. Steve’s eyes widened, albeit fractionally, and his smile shifted from something easy and natural to something a little harder and forced. That seemed like a clear confirmation to Tony, but he knew better than to reject a null hypothesis without sound evidence. “Are you at all wowed? I actually spent a little time relearning military insignia. It’s been a while since that was at all relevant to me and my business.”
“Ah.” Steve visibly relaxed. “You’re more observant than I gave you credit for.”
“People in my position don’t tend to get very far unless they are,” Tony pointed out. He stood up and stretched, groaning a little when the movement made his lower back twinge. He kept in decent shape, and he’d been training more since becoming the Iron Man, but he certainly missed being twenty and feeling invincible. “It’s a good thing you’re here, actually, because I need a break.”
Steve knew Tony well enough now, evidently, to appear apprehensive.
“I’ve got a surprise for you downstairs.” Tony grabbed his jacket off his chair and slipped it on. He’d opted for casual wear today, supple leather and denim. He patted his pockets until he located his sunglasses and, more importantly, the keys. “Here.” He tossed them at Steve, who caught them, one-handed, without so much as looking. “You’re going to drive.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be driving, but I’m sure it’s worth more than my apartment,” Steve said.
“Well…” Tony laughed when Steve’s apprehension shifted into outright curiosity. “It’s not polite to ask the price of a gift, Rogers. Just take me downstairs and buy me lunch, please.”
“That depends on the price of the gift,” Steve shot back, but he was eager enough to head out.
The motorcycle wasn’t all that expensive, just old, but Tony knew it was the sort of thing Steve would appreciate. It was a win-win, he’d told Pepper, because he could get the bike to someone who’d love and care for it, and he’d get another of his death traps out of the garage so that Pepper could sleep a little easier at night.
(“I notice you’re keeping the armor, Tony, don’t think I didn’t.”)
Steve looked good on the bike, anyway, and gave it the exact sort of dreamy, lovey smiles that Tony wouldn’t have minded having directed at him.
“I don’t think I can accept this,” Steve said reluctantly, though that didn’t stop him from immediately getting on.
“Shut up and drive,” Tony replied. He climbed on behind Steve, slipped his arms around Steve’s waist, he laughed into Steve’s shoulder when Steve turned the bike on and made a big show out of revving it and speeding down the street. The season had just turned, so the air had a sting to it, that was dulled by Tony’s leather jacket. Steve, it seemed, was a bit of a daredevil, taking corners too quickly, and laughing uproariously every time the bike tipped dangerously too far in either direction.
Steve’s hair was gorgeously mussed by the time he pulled up to the diner.
“Thank you, Tony,” he said breathlessly, smiling wider and brighter than Tony had ever seen from him. “I—just. Thank you. I love it. I do. It’s perfect. I’ve always wanted one of these.”
“A ’42 WLA? Figured,” Tony said. He smiled fondly. “You’re absolutely an apple-pie-and-fireworks all-American man. I thought your kind was extinct.”
“Not quite.” Steve opened the door for Tony, and they took their now-usual seat near the window. From his place in the booth, Tony could tell that Steve had positioned himself so that he had the best possible view of his new bike. Cute. “Not that I’m complaining, but what brought on this sudden generosity?”
This, Tony knew, was the time to go for it, so he did.
“You said I could take you out if I could learn one thing about you that wasn’t publicly available knowledge,” Tony said. He paused, expectant, and when Steve nodded, continued. “For the record, I think you cheated since you've been taking me on lunch dates that I didn't even know were supposed to be lunch dates, but I digress. The point is—well. I think I’ve come up with something pretty big and, if I’m right, that means I owed you something.”
“I don’t follow.” Steve, to his credit, met Tony’s eyes and didn’t try to preempt the little speech Tony had come up with.
“I think you’re Cap—”
Tony’s phone buzzed with a new alert, just as Steve’s phone rang. Again.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Language,” Steve said reprovingly, glancing at the kid at the table near their booth. “I’m sorry, I think I have to—”
“No.” Tony got up, grumbling. He’d had this idea that he’d tell Steve how much Tony was growing to value their friendship, but that he wanted more and the Captain America thing didn’t have to get in the way of that, et cetera. Though, Tony supposed, it was more fitting that he do it this way instead. “Come on.”
He took Steve by the hand and dragged him outside and into the alley he’d suited up in the last time. It was narrow and dingy, and not great in terms of setting a mood, but it would do in a pinch.
Tony activated his bracelets and pulled Steve down into a kiss.
At first, Steve tensed, and Tony was absolutely positive that he was going to pull away. Then Steve had a hand on Tony’s back—actually on Tony’s back, underneath his shirt—and he was tipping Tony back for one of the most needlessly dramatic kisses of his life (which was really saying something considering some of the dumb things Tony had done in his life).
They did that for few minutes, until Tony had to pull away when his bracelets alerted him that the armor was nearby. He took a step back, putting some distance between them, and was both gratified and turned on by Steve’s noises of protest.
“God, Tony. This is the worst timing. I’ve got to go. SHIELD needs me. I…” Steve trailed off, mouth dropping open when the armor flew around the corner and started assembling itself around Tony. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Tony said as the helmet’s faceplate flipped down and locked into place. “I’m Iron Man, and you’re Captain America. Suit up. We’ve got some bad guys to beat up.”
Steve’s expression was the same sort of dreamy look he’d given the bike.
“Okay, Shellhead, but then you and I are going to sit down and have a talk. Over that drink you promised me. In…Portugal, was it?”
Tony grinned and held out a hand.