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It started by accident. Steve had not been held like that for a long time. The last time had been when he was still small, before he was able to enlist. He had gotten into a fight again, and Bucky had to pull him out…again. It was bad though. The bastard had kicked his knee cap and Steve struggled to get his legs under him.
“Steve, let me help. Please,” Bucky had begged.
Steve kept trying to sit up, but failed each time until he couldn’t attempt it anymore.
“Stevie.”
“What?” Steve rasped, wanting to cry.
“Let me help.”
The overcast sky finally behaved in a manner fitting to its appearance, unleashing a steady patter of rain, sparing Steve any embarrassment of showing his tears.
“Fine.”
Bucky had moved slowly, gently, as if Steve were a wounded deer. The initial lift was aggravating, both for his knee and his pride. He wasn’t able to admit that this was the safest he had ever felt, cradled by someone else. He wanted to burrow into the warmth and safety. But men did not do that, not unless they were fags. Not back then at least. Besides, it was Bucky, and he really was just a friend. He couldn’t, wouldn’t put his friend in that kind of situation.
Now was a different time. Yet in this century he was Captain America, an untouchable legend, and too big to be carried like that anymore. If he was severely injured and couldn’t walk he would be carried out on a stretcher, like every other soldier.
But not today.
“Hey Star Spangled Banner,” Tony called, waving him over while absently looking at a screen.
Steve approached with caution. By now he was accustomed to Tony’s unreadable behavior, and occasional pranks. “Do you need me, Stark?”
“Yes, that’s why I said, ‘come here’ complete with hand gestures. And didn’t we get past all these formalities? I have moved on to yet another nickname, and you just dropped ‘Mr.’ from my name.”
“Tony,” Steve amended, “can I assist you with something?”
“Well,” the man mused, pressing a few buttons, “I wanted to test out some new tech, and you’re the only one who presents the maximum amount of muscle mass I need. Thor would be an ideal subject, but unfortunately he’s busy.”
“And I’m not?”
“You’re just a helpful, solid hunk of flesh that finds time for such things.”
Steve grimaced. Yes, that was him, the altruistic, good-willed Captain America. “What do you want?”
“I need someone to lift.”
“What?” Steve asked, his begrudging thoughts temporarily derailed.
“You must have suffered some head injury in the last battle, Cap-o, because I keep having to repeat things.”
“Sorry, what is this for?”
“I am designing some new armor that can focus potential energy to certain focal points to make lifting easier. It could offer some options for future medical aid and rescue in combat situations.”
“Oh.”
“You going to help me?” Tony asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”
“Good.”
Tony walked over to his work table, where a box of silver steel sat. He placed a hand on each side and it began to unfold, folding around Tony’s body until he wore one of his traditional iron man suits. Steve noticed steel pockets on the belt line, which he assumed were to hold medical supplies.
“Let’s go, Miss America,” said the modified voice.
Steve didn’t move. He had started to reconsider. It was silly to be scared, it wasn’t like it would feel the way it did back then. It was just, Tony.
“This isn’t going to go well,” Steve tried, not entirely sure what he meant by that.
“That’s why we’re trying it. The scientific method does involve experimentation. You of all people should know that.”
Before he could think of anymore objections, Tony had grabbed his shoulders and under his legs, lifting him into the air. Steve made a less than manly squeak. It took Tony all of five seconds to process Steve’s bewilderment.
“You like the princess treatment, Cap?” He asked, a smirk in his voice, laughing.
Steve spluttered but found no words. This was less friendly than when Bucky had carried him, which had felt warm and safe. This was cold, hard steel and the mocking tone of Tony Stark. It felt weird though, especially with his new body. He was too big for this.
The laugh faded as Tony took in Steve’s averted gaze and red face. Steve had been right, it was just Tony, which made the whole situation worse. With Bucky there had never been any of these confused feelings, it had been Bucky, they were friends. You didn’t feel that way about friends. But here, in this time period, with this narcissistic billionaire playboy…it felt different.
Steve shoved against Tony’s chest until he let him go, hurrying out of the room. That was not like the time with Bucky, not as safe or reassuring. It was gentle, but awkward. Gentle was not something Tony Stark was capable of, awkward yes, but gentle no.
***
Steve attempted to avoid Tony, but the man was incorrigible when he was curious. And he amused himself by trying to pick Steve up every chance he got. Even when Steve was walking between the gym room and his apartment in the tower. He never grabbed at Steve without his permission, but would nag at him about testing out the armor again, tapping him on the shoulder, or making snide comments about carrying him down the aisle.
“Come on, Cap”. Tony teased when he finally caught Steve alone making a sandwich. “I need to test out the armor again.”
“I just don’t care, Tony.”
“You aren’t just a little interested in knowing the feeling of being held by a soulless suit of armor? Besides it would be helpful for me to figure out where the suit is now to further its progress.”
“No,” Steve said, trying to leave.
“Steve.”
That made him pause. “Tony, I just…Never mind.’
Steve left, unaware of the thoughtful expression on Tony’s face.
***
“Is something wrong?” Steve asked.
“Not particularly,” Tony said, adjusting a screw on the suit.
“But there's a reason you called me—“
“Naturally, I wouldn’t waste my time calling people unless I wanted to talk, but I do love that so I suppose it could have just been a way for me to get you here and go on and on—come back, I’m just messing with you.”
Steve sighed, walking back over.
“If I asked you if you’re were gay what would you say?”
Steve was speechless. A fag, Captain America? No. But Steve Rogers, that was a different story.
“I wouldn’t care, it really doesn’t matter, and now-a-days it’s more accepted. Not to say I think you’re gay, just that if you are it’s okay. I mean, everyone can get a bit uncomfortable doing certain feminine things, not to say I think you’re feminine, but if me bothering you about the whole,” Tony gestured, “the whole princess carry thing made you feel uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention. Cause I mean, it’s fine…”
Steve shook his head to clear it. “I—“
Tony stopped, his eyes glancing over at Steve’s frown.
“I’m learning a lot. There are a lot of new things that weren’t spoken about when I was in the Army. And…there are things I am still learning about myself. So, I’m not sure. I might be, but maybe not.”
Tony stared at him, finally shrugging.
The following silence was heavy as he watched Tony’s hands flit over the suit adjusting perfectly fine parts and pieces.
“So, you liked the lift, huh?” Tony asked.
“What?”
Tony mimed it at him, “You know, the princess carry the other day. It’s fun, no?”
“I didn’t hate it.”
“You’re as eloquent as ever,” he said, standing up and approaching Steve. “Let me know when you figure it out. Some people might be interested in the outcome.”
And with that he gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze and left to give him the space to be surprised, and a bit confused, alone.