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Chapter Text

When Bucky had said he’d managed to get an expensive gig, Steve had figured it was some sort of corporate party.

But this.

Well, they were certainly not in Brooklyn anymore.

“Should you come in contact with a member of the royal family or one of the gentry, you must behave appropriately.” The palace etiquette man walked in front of them like an army sergeant, straightening lapels and lint rolling shoulders. “Only the senior members of staff will serve them directly, the rest of you shall see to the other guests, but we must be prepared.”

As he approached, Steve felt his spine stiffen unconsciously. “Should you happen to speak to a member of the royal family in passing, ensure you use the appropriate title. I have distributed lists for you to revise, though I understand Mr Phillips has been teaching them to you this week.” He came to a halt in front of Steve and he just knew the man was taking in his size and wondering how he’d even lift a dinner platter. “Just remember, and this is essential, you call the King ‘Your Majesty’ during the first introduction and afterwards it’s ‘sir’. Queen Maria is likewise ‘Your Majesty’ and thereafter ‘ma’am’, and Prince Anthony is ‘your royal highness, the Prince of Wales’, and ‘sir’ thereafter.”

He was never going to remember all this. Thank god he was never going to meet any of them.

Well, it was probably for the best he never met any of them. But, deep down, no matter how much he tried to deny it, he’d love to meet the prince. The British Royal family was popular for some back home, but Prince Anthony was special.

He’d bucked family tradition, famously refusing at fourteen (the prince was something of a genius) to attend Eton or Cambridge and demanding instead to go to college in the states. They were the same age, and Steve remembered watching the news with his Ma and being amazed as the prince had stepped out of the car, looking nervous, but waving at the crowds as he was met by the dean of MIT.

He’d also watched as the Prince had scandal after scandal once he reached his late teens - years of drinking, drugs, and occasional nudity plastered all over the papers. But then suddenly it had all stopped. Prince Anthony had returned to England last year and since then had been somewhat absent from the public eye, bar the occasional royal appearance with the King and Queen.

“And at no time should you turn your back on the king!” He snapped out of his thoughts to pay attention to the advisor, whose glare suggested he'd noticed Steve wasn't listening. He listened through the rest of the rules; how to bow, how to ensure he was never in the way, and how he should never touch a royal unless absolutely necessary. It was lucky the job paid well or he’d be out the door. Hell, he was pretty sure if they heard him or Bucky speak they’d be tossed out the door but Bucky’s contact had gotten them a spot and they’d wisely kept their mouths shut and no one was any the wiser that they were a couple of broke Americans so clearly on a work visa.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky told him quietly as they were grabbing the serving trays. “This is a big deal! How often do two dumb kids from Brooklyn get a chance to mingle with the King of England?”

“I’d say...never?”

“Exactly! Your Ma and mine are going to flip when we tell them about it tomorrow. You know they used to have a crush on King Howard when they were young. Hell, I’m pretty sure mine still does.”

“I’m worried if I so much as breathe wrong, I’ll be thrown into the Tower of London.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t do that anymore.”

“That you know of. There’s a lot of the tower we didn’t get to see on our tour." Steve shuddered as he started to stack champagne glasses on the tray. "We’d probably get fed to the ravens.”

For most of the night, the soiree wasn’t as bad as he’d expected for an event full of rich people.

He’d been out back when the King and Queen arrived along with their son, and he’d barely caught a glimpse of them while he did his rounds.

He was tiring though. He had to hold the tray in his left hand so he could distribute with his right and having to concentrate on being both silent and graceful was taking its toll.

“Hey, you!”

Steve turned to see two of the party guests gesturing to him. He was pretty sure they were minor nobles, but they weren’t on his list so at least he didn’t have to worry about titles. They’d been drinking steadily all night and becoming more and more raucous.

Steve sighed but managed a polite smile. “Yes sir?”

“Give me another one of those drinks. Come on, quickly.”

Steve held out the tray, trying not to grit his teeth too obviously. “Here you are sir.”

The other man smirked. “Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. Listen to him Sainsbury, he’d probably do anything you ask.” He looked Steve up and down. “What, they not feed you where you’re from?”

And god that was insulting. They were knocking back champagne worth hundreds a glass and they had the nerve to stand there and make fun of him for not being born a privileged dick? Like he should be ashamed of his upbringing?

Steve swallowed a growl. He and Buck needed the money, he couldn’t mess it up now.

“Here, balance one of these glasses on your head.” Sainsbury held out a champagne glass and he was tall enough that he could reach Steve’s head without much effort.

Steve ducked out of the way. “No thank you sir. I only have canapés or wine I’m afraid. If that’s all-”

“Look, I’m the Marquess of Winchester. If I tell you to jump, you jump. I’m a personal friend to the crown and if you think I’m going to let the fucking staff disrespect me like that, you’re about to learn a very nasty lesson.”

Bucky was going to kill him. How had he gone to a formal event and still ended up picking a fight with the only drunken assholes in the room?

“I think you’ll find, sir, that I’m here to do a job, and your name has nothing to do with it.” Still polite. Good, great, now just shut up. Shut up - “And you’re only rich because your ancestors made money off of guys like me! You haven’t done anything to deserve it and if you had to stand on your own two feet you’d be homeless in a month.”

So close.

The Marquess leaned into his space towering over him. “You little shit-”

“Having fun are we lads?”

Steve spun around at the voice and as he did, he felt a hand shove him hard in the back. The weight of the tray shifted and the glasses, filled with golden, bubbling champagne, slid off, falling almost in slow motion onto a pair of impeccably tailored pants and well-shined shoes.

The hum of chatter around them cut abruptly and Steve froze, his eyes squeezing shut in horror and his body almost paralysed in mortification.

One heartbeat. Two. And then Steve forced his eyes open to look up and-

Oh god. No. No. NO.

Because that wasn’t just any pair of impeccably tailored pants and well-polished shoes.

“Your highest Majesty! Uh I mean, your royalness, I mean-” Jesus Christ, spit it out Rogers! “Your Royal Highness, I am so sorry!”

His Royal Highness, Anthony Prince of Wales, stared down at the mess at his feet with a sort of bemusement.

Somehow, through the panic pulsing through his body, a little voice in the back of his head whispered that ‘America’s Prince’ was just as hot in person as he was on TV.

And Steve had just drenched him in expensive wine and whipped fish mousse.

He was pretty sure he was going to vomit.

“You idiot!” The Marquess snapped, but Steve could see the gleam in his eye and knew he’d been the one to push him. “Look at the mess you’ve made! Anthony, this waiter has been nothing but disrespectful.”

Steve was fired. He was so fired, and he was going to get blacklisted from hospitality events after this, he just knew it. And god, those pants probably cost hundreds of pounds (if he was lucky, thousands if he wasn’t), he couldn’t afford to pay to replace them.

“I-” His breath caught in his throat. The Prince looked at him, his eyes running over him assessing. Then he snapped his fingers. “Someone get this cleaned up please.”

Then there was a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’ll come with me please.”

“Oh I-” He looked up to see an older man looking at him with a prim expression. He forcibly turned Steve away and out of the room. Steve looked back over his shoulder and saw the Bucky watching him wide-eyed from across the room before the door shut softly behind him.

Steve was left in a small well-furnished room. The man, who still hadn’t said more than ‘please take a seat’, had left him there without another word. Steve sat there, looking at the room, lit by what he was sure was a real chandelier, and on the walls tasteful oil paintings in gilded frames. He was fairly certain the one in the corner was an original Constable.

He was also pretty sure he was going to faint.

Time passed, though he had no idea how long, and eventually he heard a door open and looked up.

“Oh my god,” it came out barely a whisper.

“Good evening,” Prince Anthony said, walking into the room. He’d changed out of his wet clothes into a fresh suit, and looked remarkably put together for someone who’d been humiliated by a server.

“Um, hi. Uh- sir?” He should bow right? He was pretty sure. He stumbled to his feet and gave a bow, but he was pretty sure he’d bent his knees as well so it probably looked like an awkward curtsey.

The Prince smirked, but not unkindly. “Thanks. So, American huh?” The Prince tilted his head. “New York?”

“Yeah, Brooklyn.”

“Long way from home. You live in London?”

Steve nodded, still feeling bewildered. “My best friend and I came over on a work visa. We’ve got an apartment in East London.”

“How long have been here?”

“About 6 months.” It’d been tougher than they’d thought it would be too. At their first place, which was only meant to be a short stay before they got a proper lease, they’d been taken advantage of by a landlord who had taken their deposit because they hadn’t used a cleaning company when they moved out, even though the place had been cleaner than when they’d arrived. It had cut into their funds, and he and Bucky had been taking any job they could through the recruiting agent to keep a roof over their heads.

“Well, I hope you like living here. I know I enjoyed my time in the states.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but can you just get it over with?” Steve blurted, and he cringed at the fact he'd just interrupted a prince, but the tension was killing him.

“Over with?”

“Just tell me how much I'm going to have to pay, or if you’re reporting me for assault or something. Or I don’t know, some sort of specific British crime about besmirching royal heirs? I really am sorry by the way, I didn’t mean to spill stuff on you.”

The Prince waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry about that. Accidents happen.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“It’s fine, really. We have cleaners for a reason.”

“Then why am I here?”

“The Marquess of Winchester, Quentin Beck, is a dick. I know what he’s like. He only gets invited as a formality, no one can stand him. I figured it would be easier to get you out of there.”

Steve started at the word ‘dick’. He knew the prince was still just a person, but hearing him use the word was still sort of mind-boggling.

“So, I’m not in trouble?”

The Prince shook his head. “I know doing something wrong in the palace is kind of frightening for people. So when it happens, I like to just let them know that it’s fine.”

“That’s really nice of you”

The Prince shook his head. “Don’t give me too much credit. It’s kind of a new thing. But I’m trying.”

It felt like there was something the Prince wasn’t saying, but Steve didn’t want to pry.

“Anyway!” The prince clapped, and a moment later the door opened to reveal the man from earlier.

“Yes sir?”

“Jarvis, arrange a driver for Steve here will you? Oh and have his friend James Barnes fetched from the party. I think they’ve had enough for the evening and it’s pretty late to still be taking the tube.”

“Very good, sir.”

“How did you know my name? Or Bucky’s?”

“I asked. You think I came up here without being briefed? What if you’d been an assassin?” He winked, and gave Steve a cheeky grin. “Though not exactly the most silent one I must say.” He held out a hand. “It was nice to meet you Steve.”

This time Steve remembered to bow when he took it. “Thank you, sir.”

The Prince lips quirked in a smile. “The pleasure was all mine.”

To say Bucky was surprised was a bit of an understatement.

“What the actual fuck Steve?” He looked at the driver and car. “What is happening?”

“I’m not even sure at this point. I think if I try and talk about it, my brain will explode.”

“If you’d like to get in the car, I’ll take you home,” the driver offered helpfully and Steve whimpered.

“Alright Stevie, let’s just- let’s just get in the incredibly nice car and let the man here drive us home ok?”

He let Bucky take him by the arm, and soon they were heading back to their apartment. The man had visibly winced in the mirror when he’d seen their complex - no estate they called it here, estate - though he’d tried to hide it, just giving them a cheerful good evening.

Thankfully, the other four people they shared with were out and they collapsed on the couch in exhaustion.

Bucky turned his head to look at him. “So.”

Steve grabbed a couch cushion and yelled into it. When he felt ready to talk he looked up. “I spilt champagne on the prince. And salmon mousse.”

Bucky winced. “Yeah I saw. Did you trip or something?”

“No. One of those stuck up drunk lords shoved me! Just because I wouldn’t act like a dancing monkey for him!”

“What an asshole.”

“Yeah. And then I was dragged away by some senior palace servant and I met the Prince.”

He spilled the story to Bucky, who was suitably impressed and pleased that they apparently weren’t about to be deported. “I mean let’s face it, it could’ve been worse. I just hope we’re still going to get paid.”

“Get paid?? Bucky we’re lucky I’m not being charged. Just one of the shoes was probably worth our rent on its own. If I get out of this only having done a few hours of free labour, we’ll be lucky.”

“Guess you’re right. Shame though, my guy said the palace usually pays pretty well.”

Steve groaned. “I think we can safely say we’re not going to hear from the palace again after tonight.”

“Oi! Steve, post!” The words were followed by a banging on the door and an envelope being slipped underneath. He and Bucky groaned.

“Fuck that guy,” Bucky told him before rolling over and Steve privately agreed. But he rolled to his feet and went to retrieve the offending letter.

And then froze.

“BUCKY!”

“Jesus, what- OOMPH!” Bucky grunted painfully as Steve collided with him. “What the fuck?”

Steve shoved the letter in his face showing him the brown envelope sporting a red ‘HR’ and the stamp below it. “It’s a letter from the Lord Chamberlain!”

Bucky was sitting up by now, scanning the envelope. “Who the hell is the Lord Chamberlain??”

“I don’t know!” Steve wailed. “Fuck, what if it’s a bill for the clothes? We can’t afford that!”

“Alright, alright, just open the letter Steve, let’s get this over with.”

Steve ripped open the flap and slipped a piece of paper free. It felt smooth and heavy, good quality paper, and as he turned it over his breath caught.

“How bad is it? We going to have to start selling blood or something?”

“We’ve been invited to a party.”

“Woah, what?” Bucky snatched the invite from Steve’s hand. “‘The Lord Chamberlain is commanded by his Majesty to invite Mr Steven Rogers and Mr James Barnes to a garden party at Buckingham Palace on Tuesday, 15th May’…” He trailed off looking shellshocked.

“Holy fuck Stevie!”

“I know!” His chest started to rattle and he forced himself to slow his breathing. No, he was not going to have an attack over this. He focused on his ins and outs, waiting until he calmed and he could bear to look at the invite again. “What are we going to do?”

“Do? What do you mean? We’re obviously going.”

“It’s next Tuesday, we’ll both have work.”

“So we’ll skip it! Steve, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Don’t be such a stick in the mud that you miss out on cool shit.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, I thought we might like to have shelter and food. What was I thinking?”

“We can steal food from the party, make up our losses.”

“Buck!” Steve shoved him laughing, but then a horrible thought popped into his head. “Oh my god Buck, what are we going to wear?”

This, apparently, had already been considered.

A short while later, while Steve was having a minor crisis over his coffee and toast and tapping out a frantic message to his mother, there was a knock at the door.

Assuming one of his flatmates had forgotten their key, he pulled it open without a second thought.

“Oh!”

“Mr Rogers, how nice to see you again.”

“Uhhh, yes hi, Mr…” he racked his brain. “Jarvis! Mr Jarvis, hello.” He tried desperately to ignore the fact that he was wearing pyjama pants and an old t-shirt.

The man smiled. He had a friendly air, Steve thought and a kind face under his brown hair and salt-and-pepper temples. “I presume you have received your invitation?”

“Oh yes, this morning.”

“Excellent. Well his royal highness, the Prince of Wales, apologises of course for the short notice of the invitation, and realises it may mean you do not have time to acquire the appropriate wardrobe for the occasion. So I am here, with Ms Van Dyne,” a small, dainty woman stepped out behind him to give him a wave,” and she will take measurements for yourself and Mr Barnes and have your suits made.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, there must be some sort of mistake. Bucky and I, we can’t afford-”

“Oh no sir, all at the palace’s expense, not to worry.”

“We couldn’t-”

“We could!” Bucky said, coming up behind him and swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Bucky,” Steve growled.

“We don’t have anything, and we can’t afford new suits. You know I hate charity as much as the next guy, but we don’t really have a choice. You want to try and show up at a palace in your jeans and sneakers?”

Steve winced. “No.”

“Very good sir,” Jarvis said with an approving nod and gestured to the woman.

“Oh this is going to be fun,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Don’t worry gentlemen, I’ll make you the belles of the ball. Or well, garden party.” Then she linked her arms through each of theirs and led them through the apartment.

Both Mr Jarvis and Ms Van Dyne had politely kept their faces blank when they took in the living room, even though Steve knew it was awful. There were mould stains on the ceiling, the carpet was balding in places and all the furniture had seen better days. Plus their flatmates were pretty shit at cleaning up after themselves. If they weren’t so broke, Steve would’ve moved immediately, but as it was, they could afford this place if he and Bucky shared a room, so here they were.

Overall the experience hadn’t been as bad as Steve had expected. Jan, as she’d told him to call her, was friendly, chatty and professional. She kept him at ease throughout the process and gave them the rundown on who to expect. She also dropped far more gossip than he was sure she should, but Bucky egged her on until they knew all the dirty details.

“God, it’s like a soap opera,” Bucky laughed, as she finished a story about the King’s third cousin who had been caught cheating on his wife with his boyfriend, only to find out she was cheating on him with the same man.

“How do you know all this?” Steve asked curiously. She’d finished with him and was now tying a measuring tape around Bucky’s waist.

“Oh I’m one of them. It’s actually Lady Van Dyne, but I’m loath to use it when I’m working, puts people off. I’m 21st in line, so no one really cares what I do.”

“21st in line! What the hell are you doing here taking my inseam?” Bucky asked.

She barked out a laugh.“I’m a designer. And since I’m family, I also do a lot of the designs for the King and Queen and a lot of my cousins, but mostly for the Prince. I think my title is officially,” she paused, snapping her fingers to remember. “Oh damn. Jarvis?”

“His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales’ Personal Advisor and Curator and In-house Designer.”

“Good man. That’s it. Which is just a fancy way of saying I make sure he looks his best for important events. Jarvis here does the more day-to-day stuff.”

“It still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Oh Prince Anthony requested I do this personally.” She wouldn’t say anymore, no matter how much they pushed so they let it go, but she gave him a hug at the end, rolling her eyes when he attempted to bow. “I’ll have something for you by the end of the week, so don’t fret. You’ll have a lovely time.”

The clock chimed 3pm. Bong, Bong, Bong.

“I’m going to be sick.”

“Alright, easy, easy,” Bucky told him, grabbing his arm and holding him up as he swayed. “We got the right duds, we have our invite, we’re going to eat so many fancy sandwiches. And then we’ll go, it’s fine.”

“It was probably all a trap. We’ll get to the gates and I’ll be arrested.”

“You’re being stupid. C’mon you punk.”

Bucky held him in place as they queued. There were people everywhere and even though Steve knew that many of them would be just regular folks like he and Bucky, he still somehow felt like a fraud. He looked up the line; they were going to be waiting awhile.

“Excuse me? Mr Rogers, Mr Barnes?”

A woman in tall heels and dark, pressed trousers. Her red wavy hair was stark against the white of her blouse. “I’m Ms Romanov, and I’ve been asked to assist you today.”

“How did you know our-”

“I make it my business to know. If you’ll follow me.” She turned and walked away, leaving no choice but to scramble after her.

She led them through a side gate, waving them past security and soon they were stepping out in a lush green garden. There were a decent number of people milling about, clearly having been at the front of the line.

“Now his highness was very clear you were to be taken care of so-” she made a gesture, though Steve couldn’t see to who, but suddenly a man appeared holding a tray. “We have twining's garden party tea, or if you prefer, iced coffee. And there’s a selection of sandwiches. I recommend the cucumber with fresh mint and black pepper. Cakes will be put out shortly and Mr Shepherd will make sure you get the full selection.” She smiled at them. “Don’t worry, he’s the fastest in the business and well aware of your nutritional needs Mr Rogers. Now, I must return to my other duties but do enjoy the gardens while you wait for their majesties and his royal highness.”

She walked away and Bucky gave a low whistle. “If that's the kind of girl they have over here, I have no idea why we became a republic.”

Steve elbowed him. “You’re embarrassing.”

“Whatever you say Stevie. Come on then, let’s get in line for the food. Time to actually eat like kings!”

They wandered around the gardens, taking in the perfectly manicured lawns, the summer house and the beautiful flowerbeds. Steve had seen a fox hiding in the brush and snapped a picture before it flitted out of sight, defying the no photos rule. Of course, he had nothing on Bucky who was snapping pictures left, right and centre.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky whined when Steve tried to make him at least try and take them more discreetly. “Everyone else is taking them, and I don’t see the problem as long as I don’t try and take a selfie with the King. Not that I'd get that far, no doubt I’d be tackled by six burley security guards before I’d even tapped in my passcode.” He took a bite out of one of the sandwiches on his plate and groaned. “God, that Romanov woman was right. I don’t even really like cucumber but this is the best thing I’ve eaten since we moved here.”

“Yeah well, make sure you savour it,” Steve said, taking a sip of his tea. He’d always been a fan - his mother always drank it at home preferring it to coffee - and it was perfectly made. “We’ll likely never get it this good again.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Suddenly the band started up and they heard the first strains of ‘God Save the King’ played out over the gathering. They followed the sound and joined the rest of the party in watching the royal family stand on the west porch. King Howard, Queen Maria and Prince Anthony stood looking out, their faces carefully blank. Well, the King and Queen’s were. Prince Anthony gave his audience a cheeky smile, much to the delight of the crowd who tittered excitedly.

Steve heard one woman in front of them lean to whisper to her friend, “I heard the Prince likes to pick up women at these things. This is your chance, he’d probably shag you in the summer house if you ask nicely.”

Both women snorted with laughter, apologising when they got looks from people nearby.

Steve felt a little ill. He knew that it was just talk, and the women obviously meant no harm, but he felt weird now. Now that it wasn’t just idle chatter about a public figure and instead about a kind man who had made sure Steve was ok after an embarrassing incident and had rewarded him with a nice day out at the palace.

Steve looked up to see Prince Anthony subtly scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on Steve and for a moment his face lit up. Steve felt pinned by his gaze, like nothing else existed but the two of them and his breath caught.

Eventually he managed to quirk up his mouth in a smile and the Prince gave a subtle wink.

Of course, everyone could see it, so the gesture was met with pleased sounds but Steve knew. For some reason, that wink was just for him.

The last notes of the anthem faded and suddenly the moment was over. The band picked up again with some light music and the family moved to the grass, splitting off in different directions to walk and meet people.

Bucky gave him a nudge. “Do you think we’re meant to line up to see the Prince? He did invite us.”

“That feels presumptuous. It’s not like a house party where you say hi to whoever’s throwing it. He gave us an invite, and these clothes which, honestly I don’t think I want to know the cost. it’s rude to expect more.”

In the end, they managed to be introduced briefly to Queen Maria, who kindly asked how they were enjoying the event, and which part of America they came from. Steve remembered to bow and so did Bucky after a sharp dig to the ribs.

Steve was...disappointed. But, he stood by his own words. The Prince had been kind enough without having to give them more of his time.

The national anthem sounded again at six o’clock to signal the end of the party.

Mr Shepherd had appeared earlier to gift them with a box of treats to take with them - more of the sandwiches and cakes they’d liked best. Steve had blushed, somehow feeling that their cramped quarters and situation had been noted, enough that someone certainly thought they needed feeding up. But he thanked the man gratefully, letting Bucky take custody of the goods.

They watched the royal family disappear out of sight and Steve tried to quash the feeling of loss. Better he got used to it now. This had been a lovely event, but now he and Bucky would go back to their sad flat and this would all just be a fun memory that Bucky would likely share on Instagram and he would tell his Ma about next time he Skyped her.

As they followed the stream of people leaving the palace, there was a sudden ‘ahem’, and they turned at the noise.

“Mr Rogers, Mr Barnes, if you’ll follow me?” Ms Romanov said, having appeared seemingly from nowhere.

“Uh sorry, where are we going?” She was instinctively not someone to disobey, and Steve found himself and Bucky following her before he could even stop and think.

“Your presence is requested at Clarence House. I hope that’s not inconvenient?”

“Nope!” Bucky said, stepping in before Steve could say anything. “We are completely free.” He picked up his pace to move alongside her. “So what exactly do you do here?”

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing Bucky’s attention was firmly fixed. He managed to block out Bucky’s attempts at flirting, while a fluttering started in his stomach. Why were they going to Clarence House? What was happening??

They were escorted through the gates and up to the house. Ms Romanov deposited them in a sitting room of sorts, leaving Bucky with an amused eyebrow before departing and closing the door behind her.

“I think I’m in love.”

“Oh for god's sake,” Steve groaned. “You just met her!”

“When you know you know Stevie.”

Steve grunted not-entirely-feigned disgust. He slumped back on the couch. “What are we doing here Buck?”

“I don’t know. I just follow you. Gets me into all sorts of trouble, but at least I can’t say it’s boring.” Bucky snorted. “Really only you could go on a work visa, something that thousands do every year, and end up meeting the Prince of England.”

“Don’t keep saying it,” Steve muttered. “If I even think it, I might throw up.”

Before Bucky could reply, the door opened and Jarvis entered the room, followed closely by, “His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.”

Steve and Bucky hurriedly got to their feet to bow, but the Prince waved his hand at them. “Enough of that, seriously sit down. Watching people get up and down all day, honestly it looks exhausting. Anyone want coffee? Tea? Jarvis we got-”

A tray suddenly appeared and Tony huffed. “If you had it already, why didn’t you say so?”

“I tried sir, but you were busy muttering to yourself so I thought it best to leave you to your thoughts.”

The Prince rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you Jarvis.” He sat down on an armchair opposite. “How did you gentleman enjoy the party? I hope you tried the passionfruit tart - it’s my favourite, which is why they serve it. Anyway, tea, coffee?”

It was like talking to a whirlwind. “Uh tea, please.”

Jarvis poured him a cup, adding milk and sugar at his request and giving Bucky a strong coffee. They sat in silence for a moment, until the Prince cleared his throat. “No, but really, nice time?”

“Yes!” Steve blurted awkwardly. He swallowed nervously as the Prince gave him a pleased smile and forced himself to continue. “It was really nice. And thank you so much for sending Jan to do our clothes, it was so generous.”

The Prince stared at him with an odd expression. “Believe me, it was hardly selfless. But I’m glad you like them. Obviously they’re yours to keep, in case you ever need a nice suit again.”

“Oh we couldn’t-”

“You can. They’re custom so they’d fit anyone else atrociously. I won’t hear another word on the matter.”

“Thank you,” Bucky piped up beside him and the Prince gave him a pleased nod.

“Did you enjoy it?” Steve asked curiously.

“I did. I don’t usually. Not because I don’t like mingling with the ‘commoners’,” and he actually made the air quotes when he said it, ”or anything like that, but just because you never get to actually have an interesting conversation with anyone. You have to meet so many people so you get moved on very quickly. But I don’t know, there was something about this one that made it different.”

Steve thought of their moment and felt his ears heat.

“Thank you for inviting us, sir” Steve managed, remembering his manners. “It was fun.”

Well, that was lame. He’d show himself out.

“I’m glad,” The Prince said, but then made a face. “Please, no ‘sir’. I mean, I’m obviously used to it since everyone insists on doing it,” he raised his voice and Steve saw Jarvis’ mouth twitch. “But seriously, call me Tony. Feels more chatty.”

Tony. He was pretty sure his sixteen year old self was swooning right now.

“Tony,” Steve repeated, feeling a flush of warmth at the grin it earned him.

He got a little lost in it if he was honest. Until Bucky cleared his throat.

“So,” Bucky said, saving him, “you normally do meet and greets after the party?”

“Not so much. I just figured since we didn’t get a chance to talk at the party, it might be nice to touch base,” Tony admitted. “Besides, I figured you guys haven’t had much of a chance to try some of the decent places in London, since you haven’t been here long-”

He was doing a pretty good job of not outright calling them poor, Steve thought.

“...so I thought maybe I could take you guys out, my treat.”

Steve felt his jaw drop. “What?”

“I was thinking we could go for food or something.” For a moment the confident persona seemed to slip, and for just a second, Steve was looking at a guy his own age, looking hopeful someone might want to spend time with him. It was oddly endearing.

He should say no. He should because he didn’t have the money and it was a dick move to make someone pay just because they had the resources. But he wanted to. He wanted to, so bad.

He should say no.

“Sounds like fun,” Bucky said beside him. “We haven’t really gone out since we got here, except I think takeout on our first night.” He made a face. “And those kebabs were...not good.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah it can be a mixed bag.”

“But,” Bucky continued, and somehow, Steve knew, he just knew, that Bucky was about to do something that could potentially ruin his life. “I’m super tired, and I just want to head home and crash, so maybe you and Stevie could go, and Steve could bring me back a doggy bag or something?”

“Great,” Tony clapped his hands together. “We can take my car.”

As he turned to speak to Jarvis, Steve twisted his head to glare at Bucky.

Bucky had the nerve to wink at him. “Like you were going to say yes,” he muttered under his breath.

Ok, that was fair.

Steve found himself ten minutes later watching Bucky get into a car, while Tony led him to a garage with a silver Audi inside.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, because while he didn't really know anything about cars, he could appreciate a nice one when he saw it.

“Like it?” Tony asked, opening the door for him. “I have one in red and gold, but it’s not really made for stealth.”

Steve slid into the seat, fastening the belt and looking around the interior. This was definitely the nicest car he’d ever been in.

Tony joined him, starting the car with ease and revving the engine with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows.

Steve rolled his eyes. Then he thought about some of the stories he’d seen about the royals and frowned. “Are you ok being spotted with me?”

Tony’s face looked fond. “Of course. But I figured you might want to be a little more discrete, so-”

He pushed a button on the keyring, and ahead of them the floor started to tilt downwards until it revealed a tunnel.

Steve’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“Just because I started behaving doesn’t mean I forgot how to break the rules,” Tony said with a grin, and shifted into gear. The car shot forward and down through a long tunnel. A large door opened up at the end and they drove out into an alley and out into the street.

Steve gaped. “You have a secret exit?!”

“Old escape tunnel. They built it during the war in case my grandfather needed a quick escape if the Nazis invaded. My father had it opened up in the 80s, made it so we could use it to leave without being seen if we need.”

Steve looked around as they pulled onto the street. “Bucky and I walked around here a bunch of times when we moved. I had no idea this was here.”

“That’s sort of the point.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

They moved through London, kept apart from the buzz and bustle by the tinted windows. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Steve supposed Tony was used to people not knowing what to say around him.

They pulled up to the restaurant, Tony driving them to a car park around the back. When they got out, they were met by one of the staff who led them to a secluded table and gave them the menus with a smile. The smile was a little too flirty for Steve’s taste, especially since he was basically ignored. Not so much it was rude of course, the server was clearly a professional, but definitely enough that it was clear they were wondering who the scrawny guy hanging with the Prince was.

They probably thought it was a charity thing.

For want of something to do, he looked over the menu feeling his heart sink.

He didn't make a habit of eating out. With his allergies and he and Bucky’s money situation, it made for more trouble than it was worth. But also, since he and Bucky were also always in each other’s company now that they moved, he’d kind of also forgot what it was like to introduce a new person to his long list of health problems. As he scanned the items, he could already see at least 80% of this menu was going to be an issue.

“So,” Tony said, looking over the drinks menu. “See anything you like?”

“Uhhhh,” Steve wasn’t sure what to say. This had been the part that had put off more than a few of his dates in the past. The few he’d had at least. “I have a nut allergy. And I can’t eat shellfish.”

Tony stared at him for a moment. And then burst out laughing.

Steve felt himself frowning. There was no need to laugh at him.

Seeing his face, the Prince waved a hand. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just the slightly ridiculous thing that you let me bring you to a Vietnamese restaurant without mentioning that you can’t eat two of the major ingredients.”

Ok, yeah that was kind of fair. “I didn’t know it was a Vietnamese place when you mentioned it!”

“Have you ever eaten anything southeast Asian?”

Steve shook his head. “Never seemed worth the risk. I’m sure most places are careful, but back home I’ve been the victim of quite a few mistakes. Seemed like asking for trouble if I went somewhere that specifically used both so much.”

“So, how bad are your reactions?”

“Well, I’m lucky that they don’t send me into anaphylaxis, but basically if I eat it I get really sick, and with the nuts my skin reacts as well.” He didn’t really want to go into detail. Not that this was anything more than a friendly meal out, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with the Prince imagining him throwing up the contents of his stomach and covered in itchy red welts. He didn’t have much to work with already, he didn’t need help in that regard.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable, and if you want to go somewhere else, that’s no problem, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially. “If you’ve ever wanted to try it, this is probably the best chance you’ll get. Trust me when I say, no restaurant wants to poison a Prince’s dining companion.”

“I guess they’re too scared you’ll have them thrown in the stocks.”

“Or the dungeon?” Tony offered with a grin. “I’ll tell you what, you order anything you like on the menu, and I’ll have my bodyguard warn them that if you even feel the slightest itch, I’ll have them hanged, drawn and quartered - deal?”

Steve burst out laughing and felt the tension slip away. “Your bodyguard?”

Tony flitted a hand vaguely. “He’s around here somewhere. Happy goes where I go.”

“Wait, your driver?”

“He’s a man of many talents.”

“What was he doing driving Bucky and I around instead of, I don’t know, taking a bullet for you or something?”

“Well, I was safe and I trust him with precious cargo.” He looked away, but Steve could see a slight blush which was stupidly charming.

They ordered dinner and drinks, Steve telling Tony about growing up in Brooklyn and moving overseas and Tony talking about his time in America. It all felt pretty normal, except when Tony dropped some titbit about being on first name terms with the King of Wakanda and partying with Lady Gaga.

Tony was...well. Tony was great. He was so clever, and funny, and he seemed so much more self-aware than Steve had ever imagined a guy who had once stolen a yacht in his teens to be.

And even more surprising was that he seemed to like Steve. He delighted in Steve’s stories about the scrapes he’d get into, and seemed impressed at his art degree and how many times he’d been beaten up (‘Jesus Steve, did you ever consider just not fighting someone?!’), and didn't even flinch when Steve managed to subtly drop in his asthma or his high blood pressure.

It was so different to any other date he’d been on (not a date, don’t get your hopes up!). Tony took his allergies and health problems in his stride, seemed actually pleased to be there, and by some of the looks he gave him, seemed to appreciate him physically as well.

He was so used to being set up with people who couldn’t hide their disappointment when they saw him or realised that his allergies might make their life difficult if they carried on a relationship, that this was almost alien to him.

Steve had always been small. Short, thin, sickly. Hardly anyone’s first choice for anything. He’d given up on a girlfriend or boyfriend years ago after one too many rejections, accepting that he had many good qualities, but attractive wasn’t one of them.

But in that moment, with all of Tony’s attention on him, he suddenly felt like the most important person in the world to someone, and the feeling was almost overwhelming.

In the end, the food was great - Steve was so going to have to learn how to make it at home - and as promised, left the restaurant without a single hive.

He figured that would be it, but Tony seemed unwilling to let the night end. After a quick phone call, they ended up grabbing some dessert to go from a place Tony knew - fetched by Happy who appeared seemingly out of nowhere - and sitting in the private gardens at Clarence House, eating chocolate fudge cake and talking about which doctor they liked best and whether or not the new Star Wars was any good. When the mosquitoes started to bite they went inside, setting themselves up in the parlour and taking the wine that Jarvis brought them.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve asked, when they were settled on a plushy couch, and the atmosphere was warm and intimate.

“Shoot.”

“What made you suddenly stop doing the whole ‘party prince’ thing? Like, there didn’t seem to be any trigger but suddenly you weren’t being thrown out of nightclubs in Belize or streaking in Las Vegas anymore. I was just always kind of curious.”

Tony huffed. “I sort of hate telling it if I’m honest-“

“Then sorry I asked, never mind.”

“No no, I want you to know. I just mean I hate telling it because it sounds like the worst kind of cliche rich boy redemption arc you’ve ever heard even though it’s completely true. And I think I hate that it took me so long.”

“So last year I was doing some of the aforementioned partying with some of my friends. I mean, I say friends, but it’s hard to really be friends with people who you know will leak stories about you at the drop of a hat and only spend time with you to be in the pictures that the shitty paps take on a night out. Anyway, we were in Madrid, and Happy wasn’t there, it was some new guy my father wanted otherwise it never would’ve happened. But I end up taking a cocktail of drugs that night and my ‘friends’ ditch me at some dodgy club. So I’m high as a kite, wandering around and some guy pulls up and I think it’s my ride but turns out it’s not.” He rubbed subconsciously at his chest. “He makes me take something, I guess so I won’t recognise him or whatever, and then he robs me and dumps me in the middle of nowhere. Which would be bad enough on its own, no money, no phone, but whatever he gave me didn’t mix with whatever I had and I OD’d in some alley.”

Steve feels a sickly feeling of dread in his stomach, even though Tony’s clearly standing alive and well right in front of him.

“Anyway I woke up, by some miracle, and it turns out this woman found me, took me to her home and sent for her friend that worked for a local drug clinic because she knew the ambulance would’ve taken too long. So I come to, and I’m in a really ratty apartment, and there are a couple of kids watching tv, and the whole apartment is like the size of my bathroom back home. Anyway she helps me wash off the sweat and vomit and god knows what else, and then feeds me even though she has three kids and not a lot of food, and then when I’m well enough she helps me get in touch with my security so I can come home. She was kind to me, even though she didn’t have much and didn’t know who I was. And I felt...shame. That’s the only word for it. I had money and privilege and I was wasting it snorting coke and taking yachts for joyrides in the Med. So I decided, that wasn’t going to be me anymore. I was going to do something useful with my title and try and help people like she helped me.”

Steve stared at him a moment, and then snorted. “You’re right. You’re like a holiday movie but with more drugs.”

Tony laughed. “I know right? It sounds so fake.”

“What was her name? The woman who helped you?”

“Maria.” His mouth quirked in a smile. “At the time it felt like a sign, her having the same name as my mum. Obviously that’s ridiculous since you can’t swing a cat without hitting a Maria in Spain, but still.”

“Did you stay in touch?”

“I check in from time to time. She helps me keep my Spanish up to scratch. It helps that she has decent WiFi now that I bought her a house and pay her kids’ tuition.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “You bought her a house?”

Tony shrugged. “I have the money. Barely made a dent in my spending and it means a lot to her.”

“Doesn’t make it any less kind.”

Tony quirked a brow. “For someone who was willing to tell off two members of the landed gentry for wallowing in their wealth and privilege at a royal event, you very easily impressed by my giving less money than I’ve spent on cars to someone.”

Steve quirked his head. “I mean, am I generally anti-monarchy and people who have vast amounts of wealth and privilege without having earned a single buck? Yes. Do I still have a huge crush on you and really respect the way you’ve tried to turn your life around? Also yes.” He gave Tony what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug given he’d just told one of the most eligible bachelors in the world that he thought he was cute. Damn, this is why he should never drink wine, he was such a lightweight and it made him way too honest. “It’s complicated.”

Tony’s lip curled up amused. “Well, I mean I won’t blame you if you say no, given your clear socialist leanings, but is there anyway you could look past the circumstances of my birth and maybe let me see you again?”

“Like as friends or...”

Tony snorted. “If you have to ask, I’ve been doing this wrong. Yes Steve, as a date. I like you, and I’d like for us to do this again.”

“I just don’t get why you picked me,” Steve said honestly. He’d been wondering about it all night, and he had to ask. “I’m just some random guy who ruined your suit.”

Tony quirked his mouth. “It honestly isn’t that complicated. I enjoyed listening you tearing into Beck and I think you're fit. So I want to see you again.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat at hot, and made a mental note to thank Bucky.

“So, can I? See you again?”

Steve gave a thoughtful hum, trying to seem nonchalant as he sipped the last of his wine from his glass. “Well I suppose so.”

“Oh you suppose so?” Tony grinned, mock offended.

“I mean I’m pretty busy being invited to party with A-list celebs but I’m sure I can fit you in.”

“Well you are pretty charming,” Tony offered, “I wouldn’t be surprised to find you’d been talking your way into invite-only events all over town.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Lucky for me, it was just the one event, somehow.”

“I think you’ll find that’s lucky me,” Tony said, and then he leaned forward, slowly, clearly to see how Steve reacted, but Steve surged forward, pressing their lips together and cupping the sides of Tony’s face.

Tony made a surprised noise, but kissed back, his arms wrapping around his back and pulling him in. They fell back against the arm of the couch and Steve pushed up to straddle Tony, resting comfortably in his lap.

It was good, it was so good. Tony was a good kisser, better than any of Steve’s previous attempts. He was glad they’d had the wine too, that he hadn’t been too nervous to make a move. He wanted Tony, and for a moment, he forgot who he was and what title he held, and just enjoyed the feel of his body against his.

There was a sudden clearing of a throat, and they pulled apart to see Jarvis in the doorway, looking completely unconcerned about what he’d caught them doing.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt sir, but you have a phone call from the Canadian Ambassador. I tried to put him off but he’s determined to discuss the charity event.”

Tony groaned. “Yes, thank you Jarvis. I’ll take it in my study.”

Jarvis nodded and left, leaving them alone again. Tony brushed a knuckle against Steve’s cheek and gave him a soft smile. “Probably for the best. We shouldn’t go too far when we’ve been drinking.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, very sensible, very-” he leaned into kiss Tony again, pleased when Tony didn’t fight it.

“You’re trouble,” Tony murmured, when they pulled apart again and Steve grinned.

“If you didn’t get that from all the stories I told you about me growing up, then you haven’t been listening.”

Tony laughed and gave him one last peck, before they righted themselves, tidying their clothing and getting to their feet.

“I’d ask you to wait, but I don’t know how long this thing is going to take and it’s getting late. I’ll get Happy to take you home, and-” he slapped his forehead in sudden realisation. “We didn’t get Bucky anything!”

Steve cracked up laughing, nearly bent over with it. “I’m sure he’s eaten by now. He only said that so we could spend time just the two of us, you know.”

Tony’s eyes twinkled. “Then I guess I owe him double. I’ll have breakfast ordered for you guys or something.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

“OK,” Steve couldn’t help the smile taking over his face. He was filled with such an effervescent joy, he couldn’t hold it in.

“Now, I better go deal with Ambassador Cockblock, but I’ll see you soon. Happy’ll give you my number if you maybe want to Whatsapp me or something?” The question was hopeful and Steve nodded eagerly.

“Yeah of course.”

Tony led him to the door, lifting Steve’s hand to his mouth to press one last kiss against his knuckles. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

And with one last look he walked up the hallway and disappeared into his office.

Steve stood there feeling giddy, until he heard the click of the door behind him, and Happy poked his head in. “Ready to go Mr Rogers?”

“Yes, thanks.” And Steve followed him out to the car, his mind buzzing with the events of the night.

Bucky was going to lose his mind.

They started going out fairly regularly after that.

Dinners out, movies in, and once he took Steve and Bucky to a friend’s party where they got to meet Elton John and Idris Elba.

On one occasion, Tony organised a private visit to the National Gallery, and they toured the wings, Steve revelling in the ability to look without being bothered by other tourists or bored kids.

“I just don’t get it,” Tony said, pointing at a painting. “I mean, sure, it’s good, it looks like the thing it’s meant to look like. But why is it better than the other art that looks like the thing it looks like?”

Steve had bristled, going into detail about Rembrandt’s skill, and style, how it differentiated between the art of his contemporaries and why it was a classic.

When he finally ran out of breath, he realised Tony was just standing there with a fond grin on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just like how passionate you get about things. You just gave me an entire art lecture for ten minutes, and instead of being bored, I am both fascinated and desperate to kiss you.”

Steve flushed gesturing at the painting. “We can’t make out in front of the Monk!”

Tony shrugged. “Why, who’s he going to tell? You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to snog in an art gallery before.”

Alright he had him there. He’d sort of always fantasized about taking a boyfriend to a gallery and looking around like all those couples he used to see. “Ok, maybe a little.”

“So maybe we kiss for a little bit, and then you explain to me, my little artiste, why I should care about that weird piece over there for a while.”

They’d ended up taking more than double the recommended time for the gallery, and Steve could honestly say he’d never enjoyed an exhibit more.

One day they’d gone to dinner as usual, but when they were done, Steve found himself unwilling to go straight back to the palace.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Around the park or something. It’d be nice to be outside for a bit.”

Tony looked keen at the idea, but he frowned. “That’s not really an option unless you want us to end up plastered across Twitter.”

Steve’s sighed, but then inspiration struck. “I got an idea. Give me a minute.”

He ducked out of the car, nipping across the road and into the bright tourist shop across the street. When he returned a moment later, Tony raised an eyebrow.

“What in god's name did you need from a tourist trap like that?”

Steve grinned, and pulled from the bag an ugly union jack cap, a pair of brightly coloured oversized sunglasses and a cardboard mask that looked like-

“Oh not those! They’re so weird, why would anyone want one?”

“That I don’t know, but what I can say is that no one, and I mean no one, would expect the Prince of Wales to be walking around Hyde Park wearing a mask of his own face.”

Tony sighed. “You're not wrong.”

It was one of the best afternoons Steve had ever had. He’d taken a ton of photos for Tony to send to his friend Rhodey, who had been appropriately amused, and they’d walked around the edge of the lake, and sat in the shade of the trees - Tony swapping out the mask for the oversized glasses - and enjoyed the sounds of other people without the worry of Tony being recognised by someone with a smartphone.

“What is this thing?” Steve gasped.

Tony looked down. “A secretaire I think? Late 17th century, bought by my Great, Great Grandmother.”

“Wait what?”

“It’s fine, just keep doing that with your hips.”

Oh my god, he was having sex on an antique that had probably been built before the the American Revolution, this was terrible.

Then Tony lifted his leg higher and suddenly Steve couldn’t have cared if they were fucking on the Declaration of Independence, just so long as it didn’t stop. He whimpered. “Oh, Tony, do that again.”

“I like it when you call me that,” Tony whispered. “Makes me feel like you’re just seeing me. Me, me, not the Prince of Wales, not the fucking future king. I like it.”

Steve ran a hand down Tony’s face. “I do you know. Like you. You’re incredible.”

“You too, Rembrandt.”

Steve snorted. “Come on, if we’re desecrating valuable antiques, we may as well do it right.”

Tony’s laugh turned into a moan as Steve clenched down and he picked up the pace. It was a long while before they managed anything coherent after that.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No trouble. Though seriously you can call Happy anytime, you don’t have to take the tube.”

Steve shook his head, flopping down on the couch. “That’s not why. We had a break-in.”

The teasing smile fell off Tony’s face. “What? Are you ok?”

Steve waved a hand. “It’s fine. Bucky and I didn’t lose anything. We hid our passports really well, and we had our phones and wallets on us, so no problem.” He grinned. “But John, the one who plays music really loud even when we’re trying to sleep after a late job? His expensive bluetooth speaker got taken so it’s been really hard not to tell him it’s karma.”

He expected Tony to laugh with him, but instead his face was deadly serious. “You have to move out.”

Steve quirked a brow. “Well, ideally yes, I’ve been saying that. But the break-in does not change the fact that we can’t afford that right now. Besides, it's not even the first break-in on the estate since we’ve been there. It’s pretty common.”

“That doesn’t make it better! What if you’d been home? You could’ve been hurt.”

“We’ll get new locks, it’ll be fine.”

“You should move into my place.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to be shocked. “What?”

“Not like, in with me, but I have an apartment in the city. Rhodey uses it when he visits, it's for when people don’t want to do the whole palace thing. You and Bucky could live in it.”

“I said we can’t afford-”

“It’d be free! It sits empty, it would literally change nothing financially if you were in it.”

“We couldn’t. We can’t just take your money - stop, it would be like we were taking your money - we can take care of it ourselves. Besides it’s not...that bad living there.”

“Steve, one of your flatmates is either an idiot or malicious, and keeps using your knives for his peanut butter.”

Steve winced. Ok, yeah, there was that. Apparently it didn’t matter that Steve’s items were kept separate and clearly marked. Bucky had kicked off when he’d come home and seen it. “Yeah but-”

“No buts, come on - it would mean we could hang out at your place sometimes, get away from here.”

“I don’t know,” he ran his hands over his face. “I just don’t want you to think I want you for this. Like, you know that right? That I like you, not rich you?”

Tony pulled him in for a hug, wrapping him tight and letting him rest his face against his chest. “I do. Really I do. I don’t think you know this but you’re the most earnest person I’ve ever met. I’m in no way concerned that you’re using me, I promise.”

Steve relaxed into his hold and snuggled in. “Ok, good.”

He felt movement behind his back and frowned. “What are you doing back there?”

“Definitely not asking Bucky if he wants to move into my super modern apartment and live rent-free.”

“Tony!”

“Whoops, look at that I already sent it. Oh no. What an unfortunate accident.”

“Tony.”

There was a ding. “Welp, guess you’ll be flatting alone. Bucky’s already packing his bags.”

Damnit Bucky. “Arrgggh. Fine. Fine! But just for a short time. Until we can put enough money aside for a decent deposit.”

“Deal.”

“Right, but you admit that it’s wrong that the public funds your lifestyle?”

“I-” Tony was flushed with annoyance in the driver's seat. “Yes, ok yes, we have a lot of money, but it’s not like we don’t do anything! We give lots of it to charity, and we host foreign dignitaries, and, and -” he paused in thought, then pointed a finger in triumph. “We generate £550 million in tourism!”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “And you have like twenty houses. And many of them are castles.”

“It’s not like I built them.”

“Also I read the other day that you get to keep the belongings of anyone who lives on your land who doesn’t write a will. Don’t you find that kind of weird?”

They’d been going back and forth for twenty minutes in the parked car and honestly, Steve was regretting saying anything. Not because he shouldn’t have, but just because at this rate he was pretty sure they were going to miss the start of the play.

“They also go to charity!”

“All I said was I understood why people have an issue with the Monarchy. No need to get too heat up about it.”

“Yeah but-” Tony slumped back in his seat. “It feels-”

Steve patted his shoulder. “It’s ok, you’re defensive because the truth hits too close to home. It’s ok to feel like that.”

“That’s- you!” Tony threw his hands in the air in frustration. “What would it take to please you? Do you want me to, I don’t know, donate Kensington Palace and turn it into an orphanage or something?!”

Steve hummed in thought, flicking through his phone and trying not to enjoy the sight of Tony being wound up like a spring. “Orphanage is a bit Victorian, but I imagine it would make a good group home or something. Plenty of space.”

Tony stared at him baffled. Then he seemed to recover. “You know what? Fine! When I become King, I’ll turn Kensington Palace into a children’s home. Will that make you happy you little communist?!”

Steve leaned over to kiss him. “Yes. Shall we go? I don’t want to miss the start and disrespect the actors.”

Tony stared at him, a reluctant smile spreading over his face, even as he was being driven crazy. “You’re infuriating do you know that?”

Steve nodded, pushing open the door and getting out. “But that’s why you like me, right?”

Tony snorted, following suit and getting out. “Yes, I guess it is.”

Steve could remember the exact moment he'd realised he was in love with Tony.

They’d gone out on one of their undercover trips, Tony heavily disguised, and Steve leading the charge.

They’d taken a day trip to Cambridge. Steve had received yet another rejection letter and had been feeling a little down in the dumps, and Tony was keen to cheer him up.

The town was beautiful. All the old colleges were charming, and the winding river was full with punting boats, and the town was abuzz with people taking in its charms.

Tony had turned out to be pretty knowledgeable about the place, apparently having made several official trips and been asked to speak at the university at least once.

“Cambridge is basically the home of football - they came up with ‘Cambridge rules’ which were the foundation for the modern game. But more importantly, Lord Byron had a pet bear that he kept here because dogs were banned.”

“What really?”

“How people didn’t get maimed, I have no idea,” Tony said, shaking his head. They walked the river trail, taking in the sights and Tony ducking his head to avoid being spotted by passengers the river punts.

Steve's stomach rumbled, and Tony snorted. “Shut up.”

“I just think for such a little guy, you sure eat a lot,” Tony said teasingly. “I figured when I saw you I’d at least save on food.”

From anyone else, it would've felt pointed and gotten under his skin, but with Tony, there was only amused fondness and Steve just rolled his eyes and shoved him. “I just eat what you forget to when you get too focused on something. I could run through the room naked and you’d never notice.”

“Oh, I think I’d notice that,” Tony growled and Steve bopped him on the nose.

“Keep that under wraps in public, your highness,” he scolded. “We don’t want to get caught.”

“Guess, I’ll just have to sustain myself with this,” Tony said, wrapping his hand around Steve’s and giving it a squeeze. “Now grab one of your snacks Rembrandt, I don’t want you wasting away on me.”

Steve dug a protein bar out of his bag, munching on it as they walked, letting Tony continue the tour, even though by this point he had definitely run out of facts and was just making it up as they went.

He started to feel kind of itchy. It was kind of weird, but it was pretty warm out, so he didn’t think anything of it. Then he felt a wave of nausea, and oh no, no, please no.

He stopped walking, feeling the tug as Tony continued on and was pulled back. “Hey what’s up?”

“I-” he felt his muscles starting to twitch and the nausea ramped up. “I don’t-”

“Wait-” the protein bar was pulled from his hand, only half done, and then there was a curse.

“Steve this has peanut oil in it!”

Steve shook his head. That couldn’t be right. That was his normal brand. He’d made sure he’d picked the safe foods when they moved here. “No, can’t be, I eat that one all the time.”

“Then they must’ve changed the recipe. Shit, what do I - what do you need?”

What he needed was to be home. This was going to be….really unpleasant, and the last thing he wanted was for Tony to witness it.

“I just need to be-” Fuck, he didn’t even know. Normally he had about 30 minutes before it got bad bad, and in the past he’d been lucky that usually that had been enough time to get home. But they weren’t near home. They were a fair way away and he was starting to feel himself panic, even as he watched the first of the welts starting to rise on his skin.

“Hang on, hang on,” Steve found himself being led and then he was placed on a bench. He could hear words, but he wasn’t focusing on them, too worried about the pain starting to build in his stomach. Oh no.

“Ok, up you get, come on.” Tony’s hold on him was firm, and he let himself be moved, feeling the panic start to subside. Tony had a plan, he’d make it better.

He was piled into a car, and they drove a short distance. Steve didn’t pay much attention, focusing more on not throwing up in the car. There was the slam of a door, and Tony held Steve close, petting him gently.

Eventually the door next to them opened, and Steve was urged out of the car. They were in a carpark, which was….unhelpful? Had they taken him to hospital?

“I got two rooms, sir, used the normal names. They think you’re my nephews, which is a bit insulting, I’m not that old.”

“Yes, yes, thanks Happy.”

“Keep your head down and put your sunglasses back on. I’ll get you two to the room and then I’ll do a perimeter check. I called Jones, he’s waiting in the carpark. He and his team will come join me.”

“Got it. Thanks Happy.” The last was more earnest, and even though Steve couldn’t see much pressed so close to Tony, he could hear the gratitude.

They made it through the lobby and up to the room, Steve feeling the utmost relief as he was deposited gently on the bed, the cool sheets soothing against his hot skin.

Tony sat down next to him and brushed his hair out of his face. “Happy’s going to pick up some benedryl. Don't worry about anything. Just focus on getting through it.”

Steve groaned. “I can’t believe they changed the recipe. Bastards.”

“I’ll make sure to make a complaint. Maybe with my royal seal stamped on the bottom.”

Steve laughed, though it hurt. “I might let you.” He curled up tighter. “You can head to the other room now. I just got to work through this.” He cracked an eye open to look around.

“Where are we?”

“A...premier inn,” Tony said, clearly trying not to sound like a snob.

Steve took a deep breath as another wave rolled through him. “Have you ever been in one of these before?”

“No, I can’t say I have.” The And I never will again was unspoken but clear nonetheless. “The things I do for you Rogers.”

Steve patted his hand. “And I appreciate it. But you can go now. Really.”

“Go? Go where?”

Steve frowned. “The other room?”

“That’s for security. This one’s ours.”

Steve felt a sharp spike of horror, his neck prickling in realisation. “You’re going to stay here? The whole time?”

Tony looked confused. “Yes? You’re unwell and I care about you, so I thought I’d stay and help you get better.” Tony looked around the room like he was speaking to an audience. “Am I the weird one here?”

Steve was overcome with dread. His allergies were awful, yes, and obviously any reactions he had was perfectly normal and he shouldn’t be embarrassed.

But quite frankly, having lengthy gastrointestinal problems while trapped in a small, cheap hotel room with your incredibly hot boyfriend was literally the worst thing he could imagine.

His body wracked with pain as his muscles contracted again. Ok, almost the worst. The clock was ticking down, it wouldn’t be long now.

Tony hissed at his arm, and Steve looked down to see the hives had gotten worse. He felt hot and cold all at once.

“Where is Happy with those meds?” Tony growled and Steve felt a wave of sickness stronger than the others and he pushed himself up and away, throwing himself into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There was a knock a moment later and Steve groaned. This was so humiliating. “Go away Tony.”

“I’ve got the antihistamines, I’m just going to-” the door opened very slightly as a box was thrown in and then closed again.

Steve lost time after that - forcing down his benedryl, and then just wave after wave of pain as his body attempted to remove all traces of peanut from his system.

At some point there was another soft knock, and the door opened slightly to drop in a change of clothes, clearly newly purchased but also somehow smelling freshly washed, along with a toothbrush and paste.

“Take a shower when you’re ready,” Tony said through the flimsy wood. “It’ll make you feel better.”

He wasn’t wrong. Steve felt shaky and gross, and he’d feel this way for hours yet. He flopped into the shower, letting the warm water heat his body, even as his skin prickled where it was irritated. The antihistamines had reduced the welts, thankfully, though his skin was still red and sore.

Once he was clean he gently patted himself dry, pulling on the soft cotton pyjama pants, boxers and a loose long sleeve. He searched under the sink thankful to find the cleaning staff had left a bottle of cleaner - likely not on purpose, but he was grateful- and he tried to give everything a wipe down to try and mask any traces of his misadventure.

Eventually he couldn’t put it off and opened the door.

Tony was on the bed, typing away on his phone, the sound from the TV creating a soft hum, but when Steve entered he looked up immediately. “Feeling better?”

Steve didn't have the energy to flush, but he pulled the door tight behind him nonetheless. “Yes.”

Tony took him in and then reached out a hand. “Come here.”

Steve took it, let himself be carefully drawn in until he was tucked up against Tony’s side, his head pillowed on his chest.

Steve was stiff, he knew it, but it was just so embarrassing. He was an adult for fucks sake, and he'd lived with this his whole life, he should be used to it by now.

It’s never happened with someone who likes seeing you naked, his brain offered helpfully, and Steve had to accept that was the main difference.

He was gently jostled and he looked up at Tony who was watching him. “You know you have nothing to feel embarrassed about right?”

Steve grunted affirmatively, but it was clearly as convincing as it sounded.

“Hey.” there was an expectant silence until Steve gave him his full attention. “I don’t like you any less just because I’ve seen what your allergies do. And as someone who has had to be pulled out of a pool of his own vomit, through every fault of his own, I’d hardly be one to talk.”

Steve gave him a look. “No really! A paparazzi got a shot of it - my dad ended up paying them for it. It’s one thing to look like I’m partying too hard, but the heir to the throne can’t be seen covered in regurgitated tequila.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

Tony laughed. “Exactly. So don’t feel weird about it. Just lie here with me until you feel better.” His arms tightened, but gently, cradling Steve more comfortably without hurting his tender skin. It was nice.

“How’d you know what to do anyway?”

“You think I didn’t research the hell out of allergies and consult the royal physician after our first date?”

Oh. That was sweet, that was so sweet, and even through the aches and leftover nausea, he felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, I did have to cheat a little and ask Bucky what your preferred flavour was, but when you’re ready, Happy has some frozen electrolytes next door. You need to stay hydrated. Now, let’s watch The Good Place again hmm?”

Steve nodded, snuggling in closer. Having attacks still sucked, but he’d certainly had worse. Tony had made it bearable, not just putting him at ease, but taking the stress of the situation away.

And he’d researched. Gone out of his way to educate himself so he could help Steve and oh.

Steve loved him.

He felt like this was going to be a problem.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Bucky offered, stirring his coffee. “You met a guy you like, finally, and then it turns out you like him so much you love him. Oldest story in the book Stevie.”

Steve scowled. “You know that’s not the whole thing! Tony’s-” He looked nervously around the cafe. “...job means it’s more complicated than that.”

“His job,” Bucky shot back, “doesn’t mean he can’t also fall in love with you. You’re assuming the worst. He has more experience with this than you, and he doesn’t seem the casual type.”

“I guess I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“I know, you’ve been burned before, it’s not surprising that it’s hard to just enjoy it when the real thing comes along.”

“If it even is the real thing, for him I mean.”

“Steve, being with you has huge implications for his career. You think he’d do that lightly? Or do all those outings you like even though they’re super risky and I think you’re both dumb for doing it? He’s the one who would have to deal with the fall out. Not you. So yes, I think he’s serious.”

Steve sighed.

Bucky huffed. “What did your Ma say?”

Steve definitely didn't pout. “Pretty much the same.”

“Well there you go. The two smartest people you know are telling you to fucking chill out, so you know, chill.”

Steve threw a sugar packet at him. “Don’t come to me next time you want to whine about Natasha.”

“I won’t. I’m getting closer, Stevie. Progress. You know she calls me James now?”

“A true sign of love for sure.”

“It’s all in the way she says it. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Steve threw his hands up. “We’re the same age!”

“And yet,” Bucky said, dropping his voice to a low murmur. “You’re the one moping about the fact they’re dating a hot prince. So which of us is more mature?”

This time the sugar packet landed in Bucky’s coffee and Steve felt fully vindicated.

The sun was shining, the summer heat broken by the cool wind.

They lay outside on a blanket in the garden, Steve leaning against a tree and Tony dozing in his lap.

Steve brushed his fingers through the thick brown mop, feeling the question he’d been mulling over push itself to the forefront.

“Hey?”

“Hmmm?”’

“Your parents,” he felt Tony stiffen beneath his hand, but he carried on, “do they know about me?”

Tony sighed, eyes still closed. “We haven’t talked about it, but I’m sure they know. My father has his own spies in the palace after all.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Honestly, it’s not that I’m not telling them purposefully, it’s just that we kind of don’t talk about things really. We discuss them when they ‘become relevant’.”

“Are they going to be upset about the...guy thing?”

Tony shook his head, his eyes opening reluctantly. “My parents have known I was bi since I was a teen, and the PR team has a plan in place if it ever becomes more than just rumour.” His eyes flitted to Steve sharply. “I’m not ashamed.”

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t think you were.”

“I just hate the idea of it having to be a whole...thing. My family knows, my friends know, but having to give a press conference about who I like to be naked with when they get to know everything else about me just makes me angry. No one else in my family has to confirm they’re straight or anything. And I know I could be a role model for kids or whatever who are struggling and that’s tough, but it’s hard enough the tabloids pairing me with every woman who’s ever stood next to me in a picture, let alone if I had to do it with men too. So I’m out to who matters, I don’t make more effort to hide my relationships with men than I do with women, I’m just private.”

“It’s ok Tony, I get it.”

Tony stared up at him looking worried. “I just don’t want you to think I’m hiding you or anything. I-,” he swallowed nervously, and Steve felt his heart start to beat faster at the look, knowing suddenly that whatever he was going to say next was going to be significant. “I’m in love with you.”

That was, well that was - “Really?!”

Tony’s face lost the worry and instead took on an exasperated look. “No. I just tell people I’m dating I love them for fun. Yes really!”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I love you too.”

Tony’s face bloomed in a smile and he tugged Steve to kiss him, rolling them when the angle proved difficult. And as they made out in the garden of Clarence House, Steve couldn’t imagine feeling any happier.

It wasn’t all fun days out and time together though.

Steve and Bucky still had to work a lot of gigs, and Tony’s schedule was always packed, but somehow they always found time to be together at least once a week, usually more if they could manage it.

Dating a Prince did have its pitfalls.

They were never really alone - Tony had his protection squad around 24/7 and although Happy and the others did their best, it was hard to completely forget they were there.

They had to keep their public outings to a minimum, since they were risky from both a secrecy and safety perspective, which meant they spent a lot of time in restaurants who wouldn't leak the details, or around other rich people who paid high sums for their privacy.

Speaking of the secrecy, Steve had to be careful with who he told. The only people who knew were Bucky and his mother. He found it didn’t bother him at the beginning, though it was starting to grate a little. Whenever his buddy Sam messaged him to ask how things were going, he had to carefully edit stories to avoid mentioning he was dating a Royal. Not because he didn’t trust Sam, but because he was paranoid about losing his phone and leaking the whole story. Even though he understood why, it didn’t mean he didn't want everyone to know Tony was his. It was hard when he was out and about and he'd have to listen to people talk about how much they wished they could get with Tony, or marry their Prince, while Steve just had to bite his tongue and move along. Every public outing resulted in screaming crowds hoping to get a glimpse of him, and Steve would have to watch his boyfriend on the news being adored by women and men alike.

He wasn’t bitter ok?

So it was lucky, well incredibly unlucky really, that the universe decided to take the choice out of their hands all together.

Steve stepped out onto the street with Bucky, carrying their shopping bags and arguing about dinner. He then immediately reared back as something fuzzy and grey was shoved in his face.

“Steve Rogers?” The man holding what Steve now saw was a microphone. There was an incessant flashing as another man with a camera popped up clicking furiously.

“Yes, I-“

“Can you confirm rumours that you’re seeing the Prince of Wales?”

“What?” He noticed several people with cameras moving quickly towards him as his brain frantically tried to reboot. “I’m not-“

“What do you have to say about these photos taken last week?”

And iPad was pushed into his hands and he looked down to see some very blurry but still recognisable close ups.

They weren’t particularly damning. The first was a shot clearly taken on someone’s phone of them at dinner somewhere, though the quality was terrible. The reporter reached out to slide to the next picture, and then Steve was looking at a picture of himself on the threshold - Tony carefully hidden, but himself clearly leaving the house. Then clearer photos of him leaving the palace grounds and getting into a palace car.

They were nothing, but they were everything too. He had to be careful, anything he said could be taken as confirmation, and any silence could be too. Fuck.

“What’s it like to get with the party prince?” Another in the crowd that had gathered asked, pulling out the old nickname. Steve grit his teeth. “You know he went 12 for 12 with last year’s Maxim cover models?”

He hadn’t, Steve knew. Tony hadn’t been with anyone since Spain, sick of the lack of feelings and the bad press for even the most casual encounter. “That’s none of your business.”

“Is that a confirmation?”

“Hey buddy why don’t you back off?” Bucky snapped, trying to push between them, and block Steve from their view.

Steve felt anger rise up in his chest. But there was something else too. Not shame, but guilt. Guilt that now everyone would know and Tony’s last secret would be out. The last private part of him. And it was his fault. Well no, he knew it wasn’t anymore his fault than it was Tony’s, and it wasn’t Tony’s fault that he was born to the family he was. The storm of emotion surged and before he could stop it, before the voice of common sense could tell him that speaking to the media was a bad idea, the words forced themselves out of his mouth in a barrage.

“It’s none of your business. Prince Anthony has as much right to privacy as you or me. You’re welcome to dislike the monarchy, what they cost and how they spend their money, and the media should hold them accountable, but that does not give you the right to invade his life and take pictures of moments that aren’t meant for public consumption, especially moments that have nothing to do with his status.” He was pretty sure he was breathing heavily, and he should definitely shut up, but he couldn’t stop. “And maybe he was a bit reckless when he was younger but you have no idea how hard he’s working to make the world a better place, and use his privilege to help people. He’s a good man, and you should all be ashamed.”

There was silence for a moment, and then, “what would you say to people who disapprove, especially given Prince Anthony will one day be head of the Church of England?”

Oh, he wasn’t touching that with a ten foot pole. He saw a gap between two of the photographers and slipped through it, darting down the nearest side street, knowing that Bucky would follow him without fail.

Steve could feel the stitch in his side as he ran. God, he was so unfit.

His feet pounded the pavement, and he dodged quickly to avoid the crowds. He could hear the shouts behind him but he didn’t stop to look. The city was crowded so it was hard to get through the masses of people but he managed it, slipping down an alley and into a market.

He just had to make it to the underground station - if he could outrun them he could be on the tube and gone in minutes.

He fumbled his inhaler, sucking down a couple of bursts. He couldn't stop now. He turned another corner making his way towards the red sign he could see in the distance. As he passed a street on his right, a man shot out with a camera clearly having tried to cut him off. He stepped directly into Steve’s path and as he dodged, his heel slid on the curb, sending him backwards. The momentum carried him spiralling onto the street and he hit the road hard.

“Ow,” he groaned, pushing himself to his feet. He heard Bucky shout but before he could do anything, something hit him and he flew sideways, the road rushing up to meet him, and as his head smacked the concrete, his vision went black.

Steve came back to awareness, feeling kind of sore.

He groaned, forcing his eyes open. He looked around the room at pink and light beige patterned wallpaper, and the more obvious four poster bed, and sighed. Not his bed then.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked over to see a very anguished looking prince.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, and Tony tried to smile but it fell flat. Steve was pretty sure he saw a lip wobble.

“Hi.”

Steve shifted, wincing at the ache in his stiff body. “Where am I?”

“The palace. We had you moved here once the tabloids started staking out the hospital.” Tony gestured around them. “The royal physician has seen you and said you were fine to be discharged provided he could keep an eye on you here. You were awake for that part, but pretty out of it from the painkillers, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember..” He swallowed loudly. “You could’ve been really hurt Steve.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked, trying to look. He had a cast on his arm, but he was pretty sure he was on the good stuff, because he felt nothing more than a dull ache.

“You got hit by a car!” Tony snapped. “You broke your arm, bruised your ribs and got a concussion. You were so lucky it wasn’t worse!”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Steve said, a little stung. He’d done his best.

“No,” Tony agreed. “It’s mine.” He walked over to the window, and looked out. “And I won’t let it happen again.”

Steve didn’t like the sound of that. “Hey, come on, it was just an accident. I’ll be more careful.”

“If it was just about that, I could fix it. Hire security, get you a town car. Whatever you need. But that’s not the worst of it. Right now, they know your face and your name. Soon they’ll know more. Right now, they’re finding out where you went to school, where you lived, where you’ve worked. Probably calling your mother in Brooklyn to get a comment. People will sell stories, whether they’re true or not and everyone will know every tiny thing about you. Are you ready for that Steve? Are you?!”

Steve’s heart was beating in his ears and he could feel the anxiety twitching at the edges of his brain. That...wasn’t nothing. That was stressful and horrible and invasive, and he hated it. Bucky, he had to call Bucky and-

“I- my phone,” Steve managed, and Tony held up a hand.

“Bucky’s got it, he’s waiting outside. I’ll send him in, let you talk.” He paused at the door. “I liked what you said. About me. I liked it.”

Steve wanted to ask him to stay, suddenly having the oddest feeling that if he didn’t say something now, he might never get to, but before he could do more than grunt, Tony had slipped out the door with a purposeful stride, shoulders up around his ears.

Steve slumped back in his bed, feeling his chest go tight. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but their talk had a feeling of finality and the dread settled in his chest.

Steve looked at the press release Happy had given them shoulders slumped. “He’s said we were just friends, no romantic ties, and that he’d like people to respect my privacy.”

Bucky rubbed a hand over his back soothingly. “Maybe it’s for the best. The press would’ve been all over you - probably still will be for a while - and you’d probably hate it.”

“Maybe he’s done this because he wasn’t ready to come out,” Steve said miserably, moving to lie down on the couch. “I don’t- it’s his choice but I wish he could’ve talked to me about it.”

“I don’t think that’s why,” Bucky offered, flopping down beside him. “I think he was worried about you and didn’t want your guys’ relationship to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well I do. Because I asked Nat while you were getting ready to leave and that’s exactly what she told me.”

Steve wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. “He should’ve talked to me.”

“He should’ve. But it’s a bit hard to judge the guy. He’s been dealing with this his whole life, no wonder he’s a bit freaked out.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to be tied to a skinny, unemployed, American asthmatic.” Steve curled up, feeling sorry for himself.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Bucky gave him a shove. “He looks at you like you hung the moon. Maybe you two will get back together, maybe you won’t, but I don’t think it was because he wasn’t into you.”

Steve sighed, feeling his chest tighten. Maybe it was for the best, in the end. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel like he’d been punched in the stomach.

His mind drifted back to a few days ago, when he’d made Tony laugh so hard he snorted his coffee, his lovely brown eyes dancing with amusement and felt the sadness wash over him.

He was never going to have anything that good again.

He didn’t hear from Tony for two months.

They remained in the flat, still free of charge, despite Steve’s many attempts to give it back. Each time he contacted the woman at the palace who had organised it, he was told it was better if he stayed in a secure place until the story blew over. He did try and argue it, but she was very convincing, and after each call Steve would find he had been talked around into keeping the flat for another week.

The papers hadn’t done much with the story, much to his surprise, just a few of the pictures printed in the gossip pages, and they hadn’t made much of a splash. The palace advisor had suggested it was because their harassment had led to his accident, and they didn’t want the bad publicity or legal response.

Steve mostly spent the time moping - he wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. He managed a few jobs with Bucky, trying to save up money for when they were inevitably turned out, but it was tricky while he was still recovering and trying to keep a low profile.

Steve was updating his CV one afternoon when his phone pinged. He leaned over to grab it.

Hitting the home button, his screen turned bright and he squinted as he stared at it.

And then stared a little longer.

And then-

“Bucky!”

He sat up, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, bringing up BBC iPlayer and the live news coverage. “Bucky get in here!”

“What, what, why are you shouting like- Oh shit.”

Because the presenter was talking, but Steve was hardly listening because the banner beneath her read, ‘The King has died, aged 67’.

“I need to- I should call him. I should call him, right?”

Bucky nodded, taking a seat next to him on the couch. “You should. He’s probably feeling sad and overwhelmed, and he could use someone in his corner.”

Steve brought up Tony’s private number and hit call. It rang out, only to go to voicemail soon after. “Damn, his phone’s off.”

“He might be busy, just try again in a bit.”

They sat watching the coverage for the rest of the evening, Steve trying to get through at regular intervals. He fell asleep in the early hours, hand still gripping his phone, worrying about the warm, funny brilliant guy he knew who now had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When he awoke the next morning, he still hadn’t heard from Tony.

“That’s it, I'm going down there.”

“What exactly is your plan Steve? They’re not just going to let you walk in there.”

“I’ll think of something.”

Bucky had opted to tag-along, apparently unwilling to be the one who told his Ma he’d been arrested.

When they arrived at Buckingham Palace, the place was heaving. People were sobbing, flowers were being laid, and the flag was at half mast. It was a sea of chatter and grief, and even just being around it made Steve’s stomach clench.

“They didn’t even know the guy,” Bucky hissed. Or rather shout whispered to be heard over the crowd.

“He’s been famous since he was born I guess,” Steve said as they wound their way through. “They feel like they do.”

They made it down the Mall with a lot of shoving and elbowing, stopping when they reached a guard stationed outside. Steve couldn’t help but curse when he realised it wasn’t one of the ones he’d met.

“Sorry Sirs, you can’t be here, you need to leave.”

“I need to see the Prince. Or I guess King now? Oh my god, Bucky he’s a King now.”

“Keep it together Stevie,” Bucky gave him a reassuring pat. “We’re here to see Tony.”

The guard gave them a raised brow at the familiarity. “You think you can just walk up here and ask to see the King of England and we’ll let you through? I’m sorry gentlemen, you need to leave now, or I’ll be forced to detain you.”

“A plan would be great right now,” Bucky muttered and Steve shoved him.

Tony was in there, and he needed to see him. He just had to get through. He had no authority, no power, how was he supposed to-

“I’m Steve Rogers, the guy he was seeing?” He pulled out his phone and pulled up a photo that he’d taken of him and Tony in Hyde Park. “Here, this is me and that’s him. You need to let me see the Prince, or at least get Ms Romanov to come down here or I’m going to start shouting and there are a hell of a lot of photographers here who I am sure would love to get pictures of me making a scene.”

The guard seemed to consider him, clearly weighing up if the 5’4, 95 pound little guy in front of him would have the guts to go through with it. Steve stared him down unflinchingly and eventually the man sighed. “Wait here.”

He stepped away for a moment, talking to someone on his walkie-talkie, before turning back to them. “Ms Romanov will be here shortly to escort you.”

“Thank you.”

They didn’t have to wait long before a familiar flash of red hair turned the corner. “Good morning gentlemen. I’m sure you know we’re having a rather busy one ourselves.”

“Natasha,” Steve greeted, feeling almost loopy with relief. She could get him to Tony.

“Natasha,” Bucky echoed, though his was less relief and more suggestive. She gave him a look that didn’t seem entirely opposed. Huh. When he was less worried about Tony he was going to rib Bucky about that.

“I need to see him Natasha. Can you take me to him?”

“I don’t know Steve,” she said, sounding apologetic. “He’s feeling...very overwhelmed right now and I’m not sure he could handle anything more on top of it.”

“He needs to not feel alone,” Steve countered. “He needs to feel like Tony, and be reminded that people care more about him than the crown. I can do that.”

She looked at him for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. “Alright, come on.”

They walked through the familiar route and into the lavish entrance hall. No matter how many times he came here, it always managed to impress, though this time he barely gave it much attention. He could feel an impatient tremor under his skin. He needed to see Tony now.

“James, if you take a seat in the Garden Room and I’ll have refreshment brought in. Steve, he’s upstairs, come on I’ll take you.”

As she led him through the house, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. This all seemed like a great plan before, but Tony had been the one to call it off. What if he didn’t want to see Steve, and his presence caused more pain than relief?

“He’s...tired,” Natasha confided, trailing her hand up the bannister as they walked. “As you know, the King’s health has not been ideal of late, but his death was still very unexpected.”

“The news this morning said heart attack?”

“Yes, very quick too. The Queen has shut herself away, too distraught to do much, so it’s fallen to Anthony to start the process. ‘London Bridge is down’ always sounded so poetic, but now that it’s here, everyone is rushed off their feet and we’re all trying frantically to take care of the Prince, well his Majesty now, and the queen. It’s only been 24 hours, and I don’t think anyone’s slept.”

She did look tired, now that Steve knew to look. It was hard to tell and Steve was pretty sure that’s just because Natasha was a whizz with concealer and never let anyone see when she was less than 100 per cent.

“Well I can take this over, if you’ll let me,” Steve offered, and she smiled.

“Yes I think you can,” she agreed. “And perhaps I can have enough of a break to have a coffee with your friend James. Wouldn’t do to have visitors left to entertain themselves.” Her mouth twitched into a smirk and Steve sighed. How did Bucky always manage to charm every woman he came across? Although, he had the feeling that if Bucky thought Natasha was going to be as easily impressed as some of his past girlfriends, he’d have another thing coming.

They came to the door of the study, and Natasha knocked, waiting for affirmation before pushing it open and stepping inside.

Tony stood at the windows looking out over the gardens, his stiff shoulders framed by the morning sun. Even from here he looked exhausted and Steve’s fingers itched to touch him, unwind that tension and hold him close.

“Your majesty?” Natasha called, and Steve saw the tiniest flinch.

“Yes?”

“I have a visitor for you.”

“If it’s that damn prime minister tell him I will see him at the meeting this afternoon and not a moment sooner,” Tony snapped, spinning around.

When he saw Steve standing there, his eyes went wide.

Steve smiled warmly at him, trying to give off a calming vibe, all the while desperately holding himself back from just leaping into Tony’s arms.

“Hi,” Tony said, still looking a little shell-shocked.

Natasha gave him a light shove in the back pushing him into the room. “Your majesty, I have other duties to attend to so I’ll leave you to it.” She gave a small curtsy and backed out, closing the door behind her.

They stood looking at each other for a moment, before Steve decided he didn’t care and rushed forward to wrap his arms around Tony’s waist.

“I know you’re the king now,” he said quietly, tucking his head into Tony’s shoulder, “and I’m meant to bow, and not touch, and wait for you to speak, but I don’t care. I mostly just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry your dad died.”

He felt Tony slump against him, and his arms wind around Steve’s shoulders, holding him tight. And when he felt the tell-tale shudder of sobs and the damp against his neck, he said nothing, just rubbed soft circles on his back.

They stood there for awhile, rocking gently from side to side. Eventually he felt Tony straighten, moving back to rest his forehead against Steve’s.

“I missed you.”

“And whose fault is that?” Steve asked, his tone a little accusing. “I could’ve been there when you found out, made sure you had someone to help you.”

“I didn’t want- I know you. If I’d said I was worried about you, you would’ve stayed to prove me wrong, because you’re stubborn and you don’t like being told you can’t do things.” He chuckled. “And normally I like that about you. But the media scrutiny, the public always wanting to know every little thing, it grinds at you, inch by inch, and I didn’t want you to stubborn your way to a burnout. If I had to lose you, at least I’d be losing you.”

“You’re dumb,” Steve told him, leaning up to kiss his jaw, enjoying the rub of the bristles on his lips. “You’re really dumb. I love you. And yes this life is going to be hard, I know that. But if the alternative is that I don’t get to be with you then it’s a price worth paying.” He grinned.”Besides, you’re King now. Doesn’t that mean we can make a few of our own rules?”

Tony gave him an answering grin, his more disbelieving, so Steve kissed him, pouring all his want and love into it, and trying to show just how much he had missed him these last two months.

When they finally came up for air, Steve pulled him over to sit, taking in the untouched food on the desk. “When did you last eat huh?”

“Yesterday I think,” Tony said looking sheepish and Steve gave him a disapproving eyebrow. “But you know, suddenly my appetite is coming back, yum yum.” He sat in the chair at his desk. “Maybe you ought to feed me. Make sure I get my calories.”

Steve gave him a look. But then caved. “Alright, but only this once.”

He settled into Tony’s lap, an arm around his neck, and grabbed a couple of the finger sandwiches on a plate. He was glad whoever had sent up the tray had thought to choose tidy food. “Here.”

Tony took a bite, looking at Steve in wonder the whole time, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. The first sandwich was clearly to please Steve, but eventually his appetite seemed to truly return and he devoured the rest of the plate while he held him close.

“What do you have to do today?” Steve asked him, running a hand gently through his hair.

Tony sighed. “I wish I could say that we could just go to bed.” Steve was pretty sure he was aiming for seductive, but the exhaustion in his voice suggested lying down together for a nap would be more welcome. “But I have about a million appointments, phone calls and decisions I have to make.” He gave a wry smile. “I thought being king meant you could do what you want, but apparently whisking us both off to Balmoral to get some peace and quiet would be frowned upon.”

“I could-“ Steve broke off before he could finish. That was a stupid idea. What would be even contribute?

“You could what?”

“I was going to say I could come with you. But then I realised how ridiculous it would be for your boyfriend to be hanging out in official meetings.” He realised what he’d said and flushed. “I mean, if that’s what we are, I don’t want to-“

“Yes.” Tony said firmly. “Please yes.” He kissed him. “And I wish you could. But yes, until you get your official title, it would be a little frowned upon.”

“I just want to help,” Steve offered, feeling a little useless. His plan to be here and support Tony now felt sort of stupid when faced with the realities of dating a King.

“You already have. Don’t huff at me, it’s true. Don’t believe me? I’ve already eaten a meal and I feel like I can breath again for the first time since he went. You’ve helped so much.”

“What can I do for you now though?”

“Well, if you wanted to prepare yourself for me and lounge on my bed dressed only in silks so I can work off a little steam when I get back-“

Steve smacked his arm and Tony laughed. “No?”

“No.” Steve told him seriously, though he had to bite back a little shiver of heat at the thought. “But maybe I could come with you and just stay out of sight? Just be there to give you a cuddle or make sure you have a cup of coffee waiting in between?”

“You know I have staff for that?”

“If you’ve been cuddling staff in my absence we’re going to have words.”

Tony snorted. “I’d like that. I mean, having you there would be nice. You being here has made me feel better, it really has. Honestly yesterday I felt so worn out, and my mother was in hysterics and I was so tired but I couldn’t sleep. And now half an hour with you and I feel lighter, like I can actually get through today without a full on breakdown.”

“I’m glad. I just wanted to help you as best I could, even if it isn’t much.”

“It’s everything,” Tony said emphatically. “And I hope you meant it about wanting to stay, because I’m not sure I could let you go again.”

“I’m yours,” Steve promised, and the feeling of rightness settled into his chest. He knew it was going to be tough going forward, but he knew that being together was the right choice, and whatever else happened, they’d weather it together.

The following days were draining.

Tony was busy nearly every minute of every hour as they went through the process of laying King Howard to rest.

On the day they were reunited he’d been in meeting after meeting, only breaking when Natasha put her foot down and enforced it. He’d crawled into bed with Steve in the early hours, letting him hold him and take away the strain for a little while.

But then he’d been up in the morning ready to sign off on plans and approve press releases and take phone calls of condolences from around the world.

After that it had been a whirlwind. Palace Advisors had come to ask what name Tony would take (‘Ugh, Howard the Second, you must be joking?!’), the late King’s body had been moved to Westminster Abbey to lay in state, and the public had flooded to pay their respects.

Steve and Bucky had stayed at Clarence House, the palace concerned about them being spotted while there were reporters camped outside the palace 24/7. Steve spent his time sketching in the garden out of sight or playing video games with Bucky on Tony’s console.

Eventually the funeral had rolled around. It was to be held at the chapel at Windsor Castle, and as Steve learned, there was a huge procession to move the former King from London to Windsor. Camera crews lined up outside the palace, and the Abbey, and there were troops and horses and all sorts preparing for the trip through the streets.

Steve kissed Tony goodbye at home, unable to travel with him, and instead he and Bucky were escorted by Natasha in a palace car to wait in Windsor.

They were seated near the back, along with the other ‘commoners’ - representatives from charities that King Howard had been patron of and those with special invites - to avoid too much attention, and they were careful not to give anything away as others began to arrive.

They could see Tony and Queen Maria’s journey through the streets on the big screen, and even though he’d only seen him that morning, Steve found his heart racing as they got ever closer.

When they arrived, he saw Tony glance casually around for him, giving each other a small barely noticeable smile when their eyes locked gazes.

Eventually the proceedings were underway, and even though the cameras would film those giving speeches, or reading psalms, they always inevitably flicked back to Tony.

The new King.

Looking regal, but still so young, the eyes of the world watching his every move.

They made it through the ceremony, the exhaustion and weariness evident maybe only to Steve, Bucky and the palace staff.

Eventually it was over, the coffin was removed to the memorial chamber, and the Royal family escorted out before everyone else was allowed to leave. Happy smuggled them out, taking them back to the Castle.

Steve was buzzing with worry, waiting for Tony to be allowed back and away from the public eye so he could have a break. Eventually Natasha let him know the King was in the private garden getting some fresh air, and he rushed out to find him.

He found him sitting on a bench swing, head tipped back and eyes closed. Steve walked up quietly, taking a seat beside him and waiting for him to be ready to talk.

And then he got impatient. “You did really well,” Steve said, shuffling over to press himself against his side. “You were so brave.”’

“Just doing my job.” Tony said humourlessly. He straightened, turning his head to look at Steve.

“More than that and you know it.”

“It’s just weird. Weird that he’s gone, and weird that a year or so from now I’ll be putting his crown on my head. I don’t know. I mean I know royalty’s always been a bit morbid, you know waiting for your relative to die so you can have the top seat, but it’s just a bit more of a punch now that it’s finally here.”

“I think anyone can understand that. It’s not easy to lose your parent, even harder if they leave shoes you have to step into.”

“Yes,” Tony sighed. He groaned. “The family are all here for dinner as well. God that’ll be a whole thing. My second cousin still hates that I made Natasha my private secretary instead of their useless son who barely scraped through his communications degree because he knew he’d never actually have to work. You’re probably going to hate them to be honest. Half of them resent their place in line and the rest are basically intolerable bores, except for Jan and my cousin Wanda. I’ll introduce you, you’ll like her.”

“I’m coming to dinner?”

“Of course. Rhodey’s flying in and he’ll be here too, so you won’t be on your own, he’ll look after you and Buck.”

He’d figured they’d stay in the private apartments while everyone was here, but apparently Tony had no intention of hiding him away. Steve let that sink in, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

“I told my mother about you,” Tony said, looking out over the garden, aiming for casual. “You know, officially. She knew obviously, and she’d noticed I was miserable when we were on our little break.”

“Did she- was she ok with it?”

Tony nodded. “She was pleased I had someone. She said a King needs someone with a good head on their shoulders to support them and keep them in check. She was that for Dad to be sure. She’d asked around about you and said she was happy that I’d found that.” He smiled. “She’s looking forward to meeting you at dinner.”

Steve let a small pleased smile spread over his face. “I’m glad.”

A hand brushed against his jaw, and he turned with it, looking into Tony’s eyes. “I’m so happy I met you.”

“Me too,” Steve said, hoping how much he loved him was clear on his face. “I love you.”

He met Tony halfway and kissed him, putting everything he was feeling into it, and hoping Tony knew just how amazing he was, with or without the crown.

It wasn’t till the next morning that they knew anything was amiss.

They had eventually returned to the castle to prepare for dinner, and it had been, as Tony had promised, filled with rich people who couldn’t understand the concept of privilege and were so jealous of Tony they were almost seething with it.

But James Rhodes, Rhodey, turned out to be hilarious, and Wanda was a delight, so he and Bucky stuck to them and Jan like glue, all of them laughing at Tony as he dealt with an awful mix of fawning and disdain, and trying to keep a straight face when he caught the rest of them doing impressions.

They retired for the evening finally, falling into bed exhausted and tangled together. Steve fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and for once, feeling like everything was ok.

Which made waking up to the news in the morning all the more frustrating.

There was a knock at the door, and Tony groaned, calling for them to enter. Steve had clearly gotten way too used to this life, because he didn’t bother to sit up, rolling further into his pillow.

“Sir,” Jarvis said from somewhere in the room. You’ll want to see this.”

There was a rustle of papers, and then Tony swore. Steve frowned, finally sitting up. “What?”

He leaned to look at the newspapers in Tony’s lap and - “Oh my god!”

Because there were nearly ten newspapers there, and all of them, ALL OF THEM, had a half page photo very clearly showing the two of them kissing on the bench in the private garden.

“What, how-”

“I want to know who took this,” Tony growled. His body was stiff and angry, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, even as his stomach was twisting like snakes.

“I’ve already made inquiries. A freelance photographer who sold it to the news agencies. We can have him banned from Royal events but that’s about it,” Jarvis said, looking as competent as always, but sounding concerned. “The Palace advisors have already started preparing a response, and they’d like for Mr Rogers to contact his mother and to look over the statement as well to make sure you’re both happy with it.” He looked regretful. “I’m afraid you may have to rethink your plans for the day. Ms Romanov is already awake and getting coffee for you all. She’ll meet you in the dining room.”

Steve felt a swell of disappointment overcoming the immediate panic he’d felt. It’s not like they hadn’t known this was coming, and they’d already done this with the previous run-in they had with the media. He was sure the ramifications would sink in soon, and he was probably in a state of shock if he was honest, but right now all he could think about was how he’d been looking forward to a quiet day with Tony, with no meetings and no awful relatives, and getting to talk to him for more than an hour.

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought we’d get a bit of peace now the funeral was over but apparently not. I’m honestly impressed they ran with it the day after.” He looked at Steve, for a second unreadable, before he looked determined. “We’re still taking our day. We’re going to call your mother, and approve the release, and then we’re coming back to have breakfast in bed and watch telly. We can face the rest of it tomorrow.”

“Very well sir,” Jarvis said, sounding approving. “I’ll inform the advisors.”

When they were alone again, Tony looked at him, regret lurking at the back of his weak smile.

Steve frowned. “If you’re about to start trying to be all noble after everything we’ve said to each other, I will shove you out of this bed, don’t think I won’t.”

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” Tony said, way too honestly, and Steve stuck out a hand and pinched his side.

“Ow!” Tony yelped, looking annoyed. “What was that for?”

“I told you I love you, and that I wanted this. So stop trying to give me an out. I made my decision.”

Tony let out a loud breath and nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He reached out and took Steve’s hand. “We’ll do this together.”

Steve squeezed back. “Exactly.” He looked over the papers again. “At least it’s a good picture? And I’m wearing a suit instead of one of my dumb t-shirts, so there’s that.”

“We can get it framed. You look amazing.”

“I mean I could’ve done without the headline ‘Queen Anthony!’, but other than that, it could’ve been worse.”

Steve picked up his phone, wincing at the number of notifications on it, most notably ten missed calls from his Ma, and a lot of ‘!!!!!!!!!!’ from Sam. “Guess it’s time to face the music.”

“If we must.”

Steve got up, pulling on a jumper and slippers, and stretching. He turned back to see Tony looking at him longingly and grinned. “Get that thought out of your head, we have things to do.“

Tony flopped back on the bed dramatically. “Yes your Majesty.”

Steve snorted, walking through to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Come on, or Natasha will overthrow you and take the crown for herself.”

Tony got to his feet. “At this rate she can have it.”

They freshened up, bumping hips and mucking around, trying to draw out the moment before they faced the day.

Eventually they could hold back no longer. Tony pulled open the door, stepping out into the hall. He looked back and held out a hand. “Ready?”

Steve took it, letting himself be tugged through the doorway. “Always.”