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“What the hell was that back there, Cap?”
Steve’s honestly surprised Tony waits until they’re back in the quinjet to slide back the faceplate and yell at him. While it’s not always easy to read Tony’s body language while in the armor, the jerky movements and clipped responses when they were waiting for SHIELD to haul off the villainess made his anger pretty obvious.
“That was me protecting my team,” Steve answers calmly, then asks, “Are you okay? You were pinned pretty solidly there. Did the suit hold up, or are you injured in there?”
“I’m not the one who jumped into the path of an angry sorceress’ spell,” Tony shoots back. “In nothing but your spangly costume, for fuck’s sake. You had no reason to jump in front of me!”
“It was magic! I didn’t know if the suit would protect you, and you had no way to get out of the way in time,” Steve protests.
“You didn’t even have your shield! You’re damn lucky that spell didn’t do anything to you. Do you even care about your own life?”
“No.” The answer slips out, surprising Steve as much as the others present.
There’s a sudden silence in the quinjet. In the cockpit, the quiet mutters between Clint and Natasha have stopped. Steve feels the gazes of Bruce and Thor on him, but only sees Tony’s expression of wide-mouthed shock.
“I meant--” Steve tries to say, but the words just stop. “I didn’t--” The rest refuses to come out, not because he doesn’t know what he plans to say, but because something seems to be physically preventing him from denying his previous reply.
“Captain, is something wrong?” Thor asks, stepping forward to place a worried hand on his shoulder.
“Yes,” Steve answers, once more feeling no control over his response. Sighing, he admits, “I think that spell did something after all.”
It’s a truth spell. Steve doesn’t know why that sounds so ridiculous, considering he’s a serum-powered supersoldier who woke up decades in the future and fights villains with a team including an alien and a man who turns big and green when angry, but a “truth spell” just sounds... silly.
Still, the fact that he can’t force himself to lie, even about something as small as how many fingers Bruce is holding up, makes it hard to deny.
Thor says the spell is unlikely to hold longer than a day, but he’ll request assistance from his mother if it doesn’t fade in that time. Bruce checks him over just to be sure nothing is wrong from a medical standpoint.
Steve appreciates that Bruce tries to phrase his questions carefully (“Do you have any physical pains that may have been caused by the battle?” instead of “How do you feel?”). But as he’s heading for the door, Bruce stops him.
“Steve. About what you said earlier.”
I don’t know what you mean, Steve wants to say. But of course he can’t. He can’t even say he’s “fine”, apparently. So he says nothing.
“Do you know what passive suicidal ideation is?”
Steve jolts a little, uncomfortable with the word even if he hasn’t heard the phrase. Suicide isn’t something you talk about. Besides, “I’m not going to... hurt myself.” And since Steve managed to say it, it must be true, so Bruce has to believe him.
Bruce doesn’t look reassured, though. “But if you happen to die in battle...” he trails off, looking uncertain whether he wants to pose an actual question, when Steve would be forced to answer truthfully.
But apparently the spell decides it’s close enough. “I’d be relieved,” Steve says, looking away.
Bruce sighs, takes off his glasses to clean them. “I know the feeling.” Steve suddenly remembers the moment on the helicarrier, shortly after he first met the man, when Bruce had confessed he’d actively tried to kill himself, but the Hulk had prevented it. “It’s not a good place to be, especially in our line of work.”
Steve shrugs. “It’s just the way it is.”
Bruce looks sadder at that, and Steve feels sorry for inflicting his pain on the other man--this is why he’d never intended to tell anyone. “Steve, it doesn’t have to be. You should talk to someone. A therapist.”
Steve shakes his head. The idea of talking to someone--especially a stranger--about everything he’s lost... It sounds worse than just trying to live with it.
Bruce sighs. “Just... think about it, okay?”
Steve opens his mouth to agree, just to get out of the conversation, but instead what comes out is, “I’d rather not.”
Bruce gives him a sad smile.
Steve is relieved that when he and Bruce enter the common room to find the others around the television playing Mario Kart, they barely acknowledge him, focused on their game. He decides that means it’ll be safe enough for him to sit in the corner and sketch, the noise combined with the activity keeping his mind busy enough not to really think.
Then Clint asks what should be a safe question, “Do you want in?”
Apparently a simple “No,” isn’t enough for the damn spell, which has him adding, “It’s too easy.”
Clint’s eyes narrow suspiciously, then widen as he seems to realize Steve must be telling the truth. “You’re serious. That one time you played, when you said you didn’t get it?”
Steve sighs. “When I realized I was a lap ahead, I started trying to explore, but I couldn’t get far from the course. I got bored.”
“Okay... one game, just you and me, with you actually trying. I wanna see this.”
Steve gives in, and leaves Clint in the dust, ricocheting against obstacles deliberately and barely slowed by the blue shells Clint hurls. He completes his final lap before Clint’s halfway through his second.
“Holy shit,” Clint breathes, while Thor pats Steve heavily on the back in congratulations. Nat and Tony seem to be eyeing Steve speculatively.
Steve shrugs, and goes back to sketching.
The others chat while continuing to play games, but they avoid asking Steve any further questions, until Bruce announces that he’s going to start dinner. “Curry sound good to everyone?”
There are some “sure”s and at least one “hell yeah”, but Steve’s answer is an awkward, “No, I hate curry.”
Everyone stares at him.
He looks at Bruce apologetically. “Sorry, Bruce. I can eat it.” It’s true; he eats it every time Bruce makes it. Having been a child of the Great Depression--as well as a child of Sarah Rogers--he eats what he’s given without complaint.
The man’s eyebrows are up, but he doesn’t look hurt. “No, that’s... that’s really fine, Steve, I’d rather know than make something you hate. What about... enchiladas?”
Steve nods, relieved Bruce chose something he’s mentioned particularly enjoying. “That sounds good, thank you.”
When Bruce turns to head to the kitchen, the others go back to the game. But Steve feels Tony’s eyes on him as he goes back to sketching.
The meal is a little more awkward than usual, as people seem to avoid addressing Steve at all, presumably so they don’t accidentally let a question slip out that he wouldn’t want to answer. He appreciates it and resents it at the same time.
But then Tony looks at him and directly asks, “What’s another food we eat together that you really don’t like?”
“Jambalaya.” Steve glares at Tony, then looks to Clint. “Sorry.”
Clint shrugs. “Sorry your taste buds are shit,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m still gonna make it, but you can have something else and leave more for those of us who’ll appreciate it.”
“I second this,” Thor agreed, “I desire as much as possible of the hearty Earth dish jambalaya.”
Steve looks back at Tony, who doesn’t give him a chance to chastise him. “What’s a movie we’ve watched that you hope you never have to see again?”
“Titanic.” That admission has him sending an apologetic look at Natasha. “Goddammit, Stark, would you stop?”
“Whoa, Tony, you made Cap swear!” Clint says with a grin.
“Perhaps we should refrain from asking the good Captain further questions until the spell has faded,” Thor suggests, as though anyone believes Tony doesn’t know what he’s doing.
And of course, Tony just keeps pressing. “What’s something I do that bothers you?”
“Deliberately pushing people’s buttons, like you’re doing right now!” Steve bursts out, glad at least that answer is something he probably would’ve said regardless of the spell.
“Tony, you know this isn’t fair,” Natasha says quietly.
Tony opens his mouth, then his eyes go distant for a moment. “...You’re right,” he agrees. “Sorry, Steve.”
Steve isn’t sure whether to trust the apology--there’s still something suspicious in Tony’s eyes, like he’s planning something--but he nods. “It’s--” He wants to say it’s fine, but he can’t, so... “Forgiven.”
The rest of the meal is gratifyingly question-free.
Steve’s getting ready for bed--well, for laying in bed, hoping he falls asleep and doesn’t dream, but also tonight hoping the humiliating spell will have worn off by morning--when he hears a knock on the door.
He sighs, opens the door, and tries not to sigh again when he sees it’s Tony.
The expression on his face must convey his emotions almost as well as the truth spell does, because Tony gives him an apologetic grin. “Yeah, sorry, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but...” His face turns serious. “Ask me something you don’t think you’d normally get an honest answer from me about.”
Ah. He wants to even the score, huh? It won’t be the same, not when Tony can decide not to answer, but Steve figures it’s worth a shot. “Why did you hate your dad?”
Tony’s eyes widen, but there’s no hesitation as he responds, “I didn’t hate him, I just wish he’d loved me as much as he loved you.” Then his jaw snaps shut. He looks away, releasing a breath of air. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t pull your punches with this.”
The response shocks Steve--not just the answer, but the delivery. “You--I really thought you just wouldn’t answer.” There’s an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.
“I didn’t have a choice.” Tony shrugs.
He doesn’t like the sound of that. “What did you do, Tony?” Steve demands.
“I went to the sorceress’ holding cell and had her cast the truth spell on me.”
“You what?”
“I went to the sorceress’ holding cell and had her cast the truth spell on me,” Tony repeats, face doing an odd twitch that suggests he wasn’t planning to repeat the answer word-for-word.
“And what if she’d cast something else instead? Hurt you?”
“Then Clint would’ve shot her, and even if that would’ve been too late for me, I was hoping the threat would be enough to stop her from trying. Which it was.”
Steve closes his eyes, trying to rein in the anger and fear at what Tony did.
“Can I come in?” Tony asks, and Steve realizes they’re still standing in the doorway to Steve’s rooms.
“Yes,” Steve answers, not sure if he’s answering the letter or the spirit of the question, but he steps aside to let Tony in anyway.
He gestures at the couch, but Tony doesn’t sit until Steve does.
Then Tony asks, “Why do you think I asked you those questions earlier?”
“To embarrass me,” Steve answers, only realizing he might be wrong when he sees Tony wince. “Why did you ask, then?”
“To see if we could make your life better.” Tony looks away.
“Insulting Clint and not eating jambalaya isn’t going to give me my old life back,” Steve says with a hint of bitterness.
“No, it won’t. Nothing will, unless we master time travel. But if there are little things we can do to make your life here more bearable, then I want to do them.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you, and I don’t want you to feel how I used to, and I don’t want you to die.” Tony swallows, still not meeting his eyes.
Steve is startled, not only by the words but the emotion behind them. “Wh--” he starts to ask a question, then stops himself, grateful the spell doesn’t force him to say everything he considers saying--forcing responses is bad enough. “I want to ask you something.”
Tony nods. “Fair’s fair. Ask away.”
“When--you said you ‘used to’ feel... like this. What helped?”
“People,” Tony shrugs. “Rhodey. Then Pepper.”
Steve knows how close Tony is to those two. He thinks of Bucky, of Peggy... “I don’t have people like that anymore.”
“You have us!” Tony bursts out, eyes now drilling into him. “You have the team, you have me--I know we’re not the ones you want but you have us and we want to help!”
“I’m afraid to let anyone know what a mess I am!” Steve clenches his jaw, like that could stop the words from escaping.
Tony’s eyes widen. “I never thought I’d hear Captain America admit to being afraid of anything.” While Steve could imagine Tony saying that in a mocking tone under normal circumstances, it’s clear that it’s honest surprise in this case.
“Exactly,” Steve says. “Captain America’s supposed to be better than that.”
Tony shakes his head. “Captain America is human. You don’t have to be perfect. Especially not in front of us.”
Steve sits in a bewildered silence. He wants to refute what Tony said, but part of him says that since Tony’s under the truth spell, what he said must be true, so refuting it would be a lie, so he can’t. Another part of him tries to insist that Tony’s speaking what he believes to be the truth, so it’s not a lie to speak what Steve believes to be the truth, but then he realizes he’s not sure if he believes it or not. It’s confusing, and prevents him from responding at all.
Which Tony takes as reason to keep talking. “It’s... terrifying, to show vulnerability. For me, the world’s pretty much always known what a mess I am, and it’s been easier to just lean in. But the darker thoughts? The desire to just escape everything? I wouldn’t have opened up to Rhodey about that if he hadn’t walked in on me holding the razor.”
“You tried to kill yourself?” The question slips out without consideration, as a chill goes through Steve, like he could suddenly find himself in a world where Tony had died years before Steve was thawed. The thought hurts more than he would have expected.
“Not exactly, not then. I was really considering it, I don’t know if I would have gone through with it, but then Rhodey came in and talked me down.”
“I’m glad he did,” Steve says, and he hates that Tony looks surprised at that. Then Steve finds himself needing to ask, “You said, ‘not then’?”
“I said ‘not then’... huh.” Tony’s brow furrows. “There were times I wasn’t exactly trying to die, but I did stupid, dangerous shit without caring if I’d survive.” He blinks. “I hadn’t realized I thought of those as actual suicide attempts, but yeah, passively suicidal is a thing.”
“That’s what I am,” Steve finds himself saying. “I guess. Bruce mentioned it.”
Tony nods. “I thought it sounded like that.”
Steve swallowed, wondering if Tony would recommend the same thing Bruce had. “I can’t talk to a stranger about this.”
Tony’s gaze is steady, non-judgemental. “What about a friend?”
He’s talking to Tony now, of course, but it’s not entirely of his own volition--though he could probably kick Tony out, or go in his bedroom and lock the door. Still, he’s surprised to find himself answering, “I think I could talk to you.”
Tony swallows visibly. “That would mean a lot to me.” He looks away, apparently embarrassed by the admission.
“Tony.” Steve waits for the other man to meet his eyes. “I can’t...” He plans to say he can’t believe Tony would do this, but that’s not true. “I don’t like that you endangered yourself with the sorceress, but I appreciate that you were willing to do this for me.” Even ignoring the physical danger, Tony opening himself up to this kind of vulnerability by choice, just for Steve...
Tony shrugs dismissively. “Like Nat said, it wasn’t fair--I decided to make it fair.”
He says it like it’s nothing special, like anyone would have done it. “You’re a good man, Tony.”
Tony’s face does some odd contortions at that, Steve swears his cheeks are a little pink, and he seems speechless for once.
Something occurs to Steve. “When you talked to the sorceress, did you happen to get an answer from her about how long this would last?”
“Yes,” Tony answers immediately, and looks a little relieved at the change of subject. “She said ‘until morning’s light’, so... dawn, apparently.”
“That’s a relief,” Steve says.
“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mention that sooner.” Tony’s mouth quirks in a self-deprecating smile. “So, uh, I suppose you want me to head out?”
“No.” Steve’s answer startles both of them. “Uh. That is, you should go if you want to.”
Tony’s eyes are wide, but he responds firmly, “If you want me to stay, I’m staying.” There’s something of a weight in those words, as if they promise more than just tonight.
They talk all night, apart from some comfortable silences as the conversation lapses at times. They discuss their nightmares. They share their fears. They discuss lighter truths, like pop music Tony’s embarrassed to admit that he likes, and how Steve is far more adept with modern technology than he’s been letting on.
Tony’s right that it’s terrifying to show vulnerability. But he’s also right that sharing it with people... helps. The fact that it’s mutual sharing helps, too.
In just one night, he gets to know Tony better than he knows anyone else in this century--possibly even better than he’s known anyone but his ma and Bucky. (Telling Tony about Bucky is the closest Steve comes to crying during their talk.)
He realizes that Honest Tony is... nice. That the bluster and cockiness and insulting humor is all a front to hide his true self. Steve figures he might find the pompous facade just as frustrating once Tony’s back to normal, but... now he’ll know that he actually likes the man underneath.
Steve doesn’t notice the slivers of light starting to come through the window until Tony interrupts a story Steve’s telling about the Commandos infiltrating an underwater Hydra base to say, “I’m secretly a mermaid.”
Steve stares at him for a moment, then laughs as he understands. The spell is no longer affecting Tony. Steve responds in turn, “My shield tastes like strawberries.”
Tony snorts, and the next ten minutes are spent coming up with more and more ridiculous lies.
It’s the first time Steve has really laughed since waking up from the ice.
He’s not cured. Steve still feels overwhelmed sometimes by how much he’s lost, feels like he doesn’t belong in this future, feels like an escape from this life would be a relief.
Sometimes.
Other times, he thinks about the nonchalant way the others have adapted group meals to make sure Steve has something he likes, not just tolerates. He thinks about how Tony modified the Mario Kart game to give Steve an actual challenge, and even built out the off-road areas to let him explore. He thinks about the photos and other mementos from the Howling Commandos that Tony dug up to give him a more physical connection to his past.
It’s not the food or the game or the mementos that make this modern life more bearable. It’s the people. He has friends who care about him, who want to help him however they can, to be there for him. And that makes him want to be there for them in turn.
And he’s starting to think there’s something more that he wants with Tony--and that Tony might want the same with him.
When Steve sees one of the robots aiming its powerful energy weapon at Iron Man’s back, he knows his shield won’t bounce back to him in time, so he doesn’t hesitate to race forward, shouting Tony’s name.
As Steve hears the high-pitched whine that means the weapon is almost at full charge, he puts on an extra burst of speed, slams hard into the armor, and hurls them both to the ground as the blast surges through the air just above them.
With Steve’s shouted warning, Tony had managed to turn enough that now he’s on his back, Steve lying on top of him. A gauntlet raises to blast the offending robot to pieces, then drops back down as the faceplate retracts.
“You okay?” Tony asks, eyes scanning Steve’s face.
“I’m fine,” Steve assures him, and it’s true.
“Saved me without taking the blast for me this time? I like it.” Tony’s voice is casual, but his eyes are serious.
“Thought it was worth a try,” Steve answers in the same flippant tone. “Seems it might have its benefits.”
Tony’s pleased smile makes him want... It’s the wrong time, with the battle still raging around them. He gets up, pulls Tony up, and they go back to fighting robots.
But afterward, in the quinjet, Steve goes over to Tony, pauses briefly inches away to give him a chance to move away if he wants to, then presses his lips to Tony’s.
“Thank you,” he breathes as he pulls back.
Tony’s eyes are wide, flickering between Steve’s eyes and his lips. “For what?”
“I...” Steve still has trouble talking about this, but he needs Tony to know. “I wanted to survive today. You’ve helped me feel my life is still worth living. You all have,” he adds, addressing the rest of the team. Bruce gives him a sincere smile, and Thor claps him on the shoulder with a grin.
“Does that mean you’re gonna kiss all of us?” Clint asks from the cockpit, though Steve’s not sure how he even saw the kiss since he’s piloting. Nat looks back with a raised eyebrow, waiting for Steve’s answer.
Steve looks back at Tony, who grins and shrugs like he doesn’t care what Steve’s response is, but whose eyes are broadcasting a hopeful vulnerability.
“Nope,” Steve answers simply, “You all helped, but Tony took a truth spell for me. That warrants some special treatment, I think.”
Tony’s grin gains confidence. “That’s right, I earned Steve-kisses, unlike you losers. Fair is fair,” he tells the others without taking his eyes off of Steve. “So,” he adds in a lower voice, “What do I have to do to earn more?”
Steve chuckles, then pulls him in for another kiss, a longer one that Tony enthusiastically returns.
The truth is, he’ll still have bad days. But right now, in this moment, kissing Tony makes him happy to be alive.