Work Text:
Tony’s eyes shone with mischief. He was lazing in his chair on the other side of the table, relaxed. His hair was disheveled and looked like he’d just woken up. And he stared openly at Steve.
Steve didn’t know why he cared to notice such things.
All he knew was that ever since Tony had entered the room and taken a seat, Steve was on edge. That might have to do something with the fact that Tony was constantly drumming his fingers on the surface of the table. Or with how he asked the most unnecessary question, that he already knew the answer to. Or with how he continued to change the subject to something that was totally unrelated to the, uh, to the… the topic. The topic on hand about that rogue agent. Because it was important to pay attention. And Fury was- oh, shit, he was angry, staring angrily at Tony. And Tony was grinning like the cat that got the cream.
Steve shifted in his chair and flinched. Hard.
Natasha and Clint exchanged knowing grins. Bruce covered his face with his hands and Thor looked simply confused. Tony snickered from the other side of the table. Fury paused in his explanation to raise his one eyebrow that wasn’t hidden by the eyepatch.
Steve cleared his throat quietly to cover it up. With slightly trembling fingers he skimmed through the brown manila folder in front of him and tried his best to ignore Tony’s intense gaze and focus on the data before his eyes. He read the words, but somehow the meaning behind those fancy letters didn’t reach his brain.
In a weak moment, Steve dared to lift his gaze from the white papers and found himself confronted by Tony’s gaze once again. His brown eyes seemed to want to look right through him.
They were a deep brown, like dark wood. But they were also hard around the edges, like they wanted to hide his core from everyone who tried to see it. In return they seemed to see everything in everyone that he laid eyes upon. Steve felt exposed in a definitely not good way.
A sudden yet soft touch on the inside of his upper thigh made him twitch again and he hit his knee on the underside of the table. Now everyone was staring at Steve and he felt himself flush bright red. His neck was burning in shame.
Clint snickered, Bruce groaned and Tony chuckled deep in his throat. Steve swallowed audibly. SHIELD’s director exhaled pointedly through his nose.
“S-Sorry, Director. I- there was, uh, sorry… Please continue,” Steve mumbled, and wanted to crawl into a hole and die in peace. He rubbed over his aching knee.
His fingers touched the sock clad foot of a certain someone, that was perched on the edge of his chair since the moment he’d sat down. The blonde could feel the toes wiggle in his hold, where he tried to pry them off his thigh, too close to his crotch for his liking. But the foot stubbornly stayed where it was, perfectly happy with its current position.
Steve glared at Tony, but judging from the older man’s amused expression, he wasn’t doing a good job at looking pissed. The papers in his hand crinkled where he was clutching them tightly. This would be a long briefing.
Fury pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
.oOo.
The city of New York seemed like a busy anthill from the top floors of Stark Tower. Cars and pedestrians bustled around, doing important things and living their lives. The few green patches in the desert of concrete and steel were like oases, where hungry and thirsty creatures came together to take a breather and rest. It was peaceful for once.
Steve loved this city, the city that never slept and where you were never alone.
He cleaned his brush in the water glass next to him and watched for a moment how the water turned lilac.
When he’d come out of the ice, he’d hated it, hated New York City. He’d hated the dirty air, the neon signs that screamed at you, the superficiality of most modern things, and most of all he’d hated that the city he’d once grown up in was no longer there.
It had taken him a long time to adapt to this new world. There were new constants in his life now, constants that helped him to orient himself, so he wouldn’t get lost between days. Brown eyes came to his mind when he remembered the first time he’d taken the subway to no other place than Coney Island. Weirdly enough it had been Tony who’d helped him to find his footing in this century.
Steve continued painting. His canvas had been blank when he’d come here. ‘Here’ was the landing pad of the quinjet, from where he could see the city around him. It almost seemed to breathe. The last rays of sunlight tickled his nose.
The painting had started as a landscape of the skyline of New York. But somehow the outlines of a very certain person’s face had started to assume shape in the clouds above the city. How or when that happened, Steve didn’t know. From within lilac, pink, blue and orange clouds, Tony’s intense gaze confronted him. The filigree black lines that formed his eyelashes should have looked wrong in the fuzziness of the clouds, but yet they didn’t.
Steve’s fingertips brushed over the dried paint of Tony’s irises. Even painted, those eyes were like lights in a darkness that he couldn’t hide from, and maybe didn’t want to. Maybe he even wanted them to find him in this dark corner of the world.
Ever since that horrible SHIELD meeting where he’d made a complete fool of himself, he couldn’t stop thinking about Tony, no matter how hard he tried. But he wasn’t thinking about him like he’d used to. Antipathy and scepsis were no longer that prominent, and maybe he was almost ready to start anew.
He was thinking differently now, about Tony and this world. But, mostly about Tony.
The moment Fury had dismissed them, he’d fled the room and hadn’t dared to look at the engineer’s face ever since then. He was confused, so confused. Was Tony making fun of him once again? Was that some kind of prank? Did it amuse him to see Steve all flustered? Or was it… something completely different?
He swallowed. Tony’s eyes were still staring at him. He’d caught the shorter man doing that quite often lately. And contrary to Steve, he was holding his gaze when their eyes met. The engineer was damn attractive, it was no use denying the obvious. And Tony was well aware of that fact.
Steve still stared at Tony’s face, all clouds and bold, black lines. And he didn’t want to sound smug, but Tony’s eyes looked almost alive on the canvas.
He wanted to find out what was going on in Tony’s head. The next time Tony looked at him, he would try and return his gaze. Maybe he’d find the answers he was looking for.
.oOo.
Frustration boiled under his skin.
The Captain stormed towards Tony, who was currently standing in front of a few SHIELD agents, still wearing his armor, sans the helmet. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyebrows drawn together, and he was clenching his teeth hard enough that it hurt just looking at him. Director Fury was standing before him, his face just as drawn and unrelenting. They were arguing.
“Tony!” Steve yelled, but none of the two men turned to look at him. Steve grabbed Tony’s elbow once he’d reached them and pulled, but the armor was not budging. “Tony, for God’s sake! Calm down!”
Reluctantly, the engineer turned around and fixated him with a seething glare. His usually curious eyes were filled with the same anger that Steve felt simmering in his veins.
“Calm down, you say, Rogers? Calm the fuck down?!” Tony didn’t even try to keep his voice down.
Reporters and onlookers were gathering on the edges of the barricades, now that the fight was over. Destruction laid around them. The revengeful rogue SHIELD agent that Fury had warned them of, had passed secret information to a terrorist group, which in turn had attacked one of Stark Industries biggest administrative buildings. A lot of SHIELD agents had been working there as well. It was sheer luck that nobody had been killed.
“Yes, Tony! You need to calm down! People are already looking! This is horrible PR for the Avengers! You should know that best!” Steve retorted, annoyed. He threw a sideway glance at the crowd not too far away. Phones and cameras were raised and ppl took photos and videos, now that there was no immediate danger.
The lines around Tony’s eyes became hard and his gaze icy. Steve had never before seen him look at him with such eyes. Yet he couldn’t not return it. Brown and blue crashed and burned. There was a flicker of emotion in Tony’s eyes, but it faded again after a heartbeat. The seconds seemed to last an eternity until their heated staring battle ended. Tony blinked and the moment of something in his face was gone.
“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down, Rogers. You could have died in there. And Fury knew it. But that motherfucker still blew the whole damn building up. And you… you were still in there.” Tony’s voice was grave, rough like sandpaper. The words were like a punch to the gut. “You were still in there…”
Steve stood there and took Tony’s anger in. If he was honest with himself, then yes, it had been a close call. Too close, even for his liking. He willed his fingers to still where they were trembling by his side.
“I know that. I was there!” Steve gave in, and in his mind, he once again saw the concrete crumble all around him, felt the heat of the explosion, and heard the ear-splitting noise. “But I am alive. So calm down, please.”
Tony pressed his lips together, like he was holding in whatever he truly wanted to say. In the end Tony drew a deep breath and grabbed the front of Steve’s uniform. Maybe he’d expected to be punched, but the Captain surely didn’t expect to be pulled into a hug. Tony embraced him tightly enough that it almost hurt.
Gingerly, Steve returned the hug. He was overwhelmed.
Tony… Tony had never hugged him before. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that feeling until now. Steve exhaled shuddering, and buried his face in Tony’s neckline, where the armor began. It was uncomfortable and awkward, but also the best thing that he’d experienced in a long while.
Something soft and fuzzy spread in his chest. Steve didn’t know what it was, but it was calming him down, almost like a purring cat. He closed his eyes against the camera flashes that went off in the distance, and hugged Tony a bit tighter.
.oOo.
The light of the TV illuminated the whole scenery. Every surface in the living room was a pale blue. It looked almost eerie.
Steve had watched the beginning of the movie with rapt attention. Until… until he’d felt Tony staring at him. It wasn’t the calculating, sometimes even provoking glance that he was getting used to, like Steve was a rubik's cube that Tony wanted to solve. It was something different. He’d caught the brunet looking at his face quite a few times since the movie had started.
Embarrassingly enough, Steve didn’t even remember the name of the movie. Something with a time travelling robot. It was an old action movie. Clint had suggested they watch it together, as a team activity. That was what he’d called it. But Steve wasn’t even sure he’d seen fifty percent of it. Too distracting had been the brown gaze that was pinning him to his seat.
Tony was sitting on the other side of the room. The engineer had come in late, but claimed to know the movie by heart. So they hadn’t rewound the tape. And now Tony was just sitting there, in his recliner with a popcorn bowl in his lap, dirty jeans and a motor oil stain on his cheek.
And he was looking at Steve.
He was looking at him, and in the pale blue light of the TV at night, his eyes looked almost like he was possessed by his thoughts. But the lines around Tony’s eyes were soft, his whole demeanor vulnerable and almost gentle.
No, it was most definitely gentle. If there was something Steve was sure of, then it was that Tony was looking at him, but not in the way a friend looked at a friend.
Steve suppressed a shudder. He focused back on the TV, hoping to get lost in the movie scenes, even if he’d long lost the thread.
Maybe, well maybe he didn’t want Tony to look at him like he was looking at one of their friends. Because, yeah, that was a thing now. Thanks to JARVIS and Dr Google, Steve now knew that it was okay to look at someone. And he enjoyed looking at Tony. He enjoyed being looked at by Tony. Brown eyes, dancing and comforting in all the right ways, filled the pages of his sketchbooks. There wasn't an angle he hadn't tried to capture Tony's eyes in.
Without warning the couch cushion to his left was moved. Tony had sat down next to him. Their bodies touched from shoulder to knee. Steve felt himself flush slightly at the proximity. But it was nice. Having Tony next to him so closely, it felt… nice. It was all kinds of right.
The captain could smell his cologne and the motor oil, sweat and a scent that he couldn't name. A scent that he'd started to associate with home .
From this close he couldn’t look at Tony’s eyes anymore, but it was okay. Tony held the popcorn bowl in his hands. Steve fiddled with the hem of his shirt. It was awkward for all of two minutes, until Steve felt Tony’s head on his shoulder. At first it was just a light touch, as if the engineer was afraid or nervous if he was crossing a line. But after a while, Steve felt the weight increase slightly, until Tony’s head laid on his shoulder. From the corner of his eye he saw the relaxed look on his face. Tony was sleeping.
Warmth spread from his core to the tips of his fingers. I filled him wholly. The movie was still playing, and Steve was content. His arm snaked around Tony’s waist and he gently pulled him into a loose embrace. And if he laid his own head on top of Tony’s, no one needed to know except for them.
.oOo.
Keeping his eyes open became increasingly harder with every passing minute.
“Steve! Steve! Stay awake! Open your eyes! Steve, please!”
Through the fog in his head and the stinging pain, Steve forced himself to open his eyes as demanded. But it was a huge effort. Unconsciousness threatened to drown him. He could feel it loom on the edges of his mind, like the night on the horizon. His thoughts were frayed and didn’t want to make any sense.
“Steve! Don’t touch him, you fucking asshole! Leave him alone! Steve!”
Cold was the steel of the dagger. It bore into him, slowly but steadily. The captain could feel how his skin broke, how the blade cut through his muscles and tendons, inch for inch, until it was fully embedded in his flesh. The hilt pressed into his skin, leaving bruises and smudges.
“Aaargh!” Steve’s voice was rough like sandpaper. His throat was burning and his vocal cords felt like they wanted to bleed. He panted, trying to get as much air into his lungs as possible, but his breathing was shallow and short. In the back of his mind he realized that the last two daggers must have punctuated his lungs.
"Tony…" He rasped. Steve blinked through the pain that seemed to be all-encompassing and never-ending. His whole body burned, yet the dusty concrete floor under his fingers and face was as cold as ice. "Tony…"
"Steve, Steve, I'm here! Stay awake, please! Please! For fucks sake, let Steve go! He needs an ambulance right now, or he might-" A slapping sound shut him up and Tony groaned. For a moment he hung motionless in the ropes that bound him to the ceiling.
Steve closed his eyes, when he felt the heavy boots of one of their captors pass by his bruised face. A gloved hand grabbed the back of his head and forced him to look into Tony's face. He gasped and clenched his hands in frustration at his own inability to fight back. Steve couldn't muster enough strength to stand up, there was no way he would be able to save Tony or himself.
He could hear the shuffling and clinking noises of the heavily armed terrorists that shuffled nervously in the corners of the rooms. Steve didn’t know how many there were, or where they had brought them at all. They had been heavily outnumbered.
The pair had been ambushed when they'd been on the way back to the tower after their first date. It'd been wonderful. It had been the best evening of Steve's life. But they had let their guard down. The man who'd almost been responsible for Steve being squished under a brick house like a bug under the sole of a shoe, had been faster than them, as humiliating as it was. Steve was strong, but unprotected his body was no match for five sniper rifles. He’d bled all over Tony.
And now he was forced to look into the eyes of the man he was in love with from the ground of a dusty building that smelled of dirt and bodily waste. Instead of the reflection of the stars as they kissed in the dark of the night, he could see his own bloody and beaten form in them.
Tony’s eyes were haunted, empty and yet full of fear. Hatred slept in them. Steve had never seen them like this. He wanted Tony to smile, for his eyes to sparkle with mirth. Those eyes were meant to live. Never did he wish for them to have to see something like this. He wanted this to stop. Steve wanted the men to stop.
Not because he was slowly choking on his own blood, but because he didn’t want Tony to have to see something as gruesome as this. He wanted for him to remember Steve alive, for him to see them in his memories as they were happy in each other’s arms.
“Steve… don’t, please don’t-” Another punch shut Tony up, but his eyes never left Steve’s.
The guy who had grabbed the back of his head, pushed him back to the ground again. His limbs were getting numb. Steve took one last shot at trying to stand up, before someone kicked the side of his head. Groaning, he fell onto his side. The pain was always there. He almost didn’t feel it anymore when he landed on the blade in his side.
“Steve!”
The last thing Steve saw were the tears in Tony’s eyes. Then everything was black.
.oOo.
+1
The wind in the thin curtains was refreshing.
Tony reached out and brushed Steve’s bangs from his forehead. He let his fingers linger on the blonde’s face. So young, he looked so young where he was laying in the sterile white room in the Avengers med bay. The walls were white, the sheets were white, the machines were white, and Tony wanted to buy paint buckets in every color of the rainbow and make the white go away.
Stifling a groan, he stood up from where he had been sitting in a horribly uncomfortable chair by Steve’s bedside. From a neutral point of view the chair wasn't even that uncomfortable, but Tony had bruises upon bruises and his bones ached. Yet he hadn’t left the room in nearly four days, except for bathroom breaks. All he waited for was for Steve to open his eyes again.
The machines continued beeping. Tony had lost count of the beeps, or how often the doctors had already checked in on them. And every single one of them told him to give Steve more time, that the serum would handle most of the damage. But Tony… he was anxious.
He needed Steve to wake up. He needed to see the light in his beautiful blue eyes again.
Trembling, he leaned forward until he could kiss his closed eyelids. Tony’s lips were wobbling and it took him a lot to keep his sobs in. Whenever he closed his eyes again, he saw Steve on the ground before him, bloody, barely moving, injured and hurt. The hatred he had felt towards their captors was beyond what words could describe. But now it was just grief he was feeling.
Back in the subway tunnels, he had been unable to stop staring at Steve, no matter how much it had pained him. Tony had needed to see his eyes, for Steve to keep looking at Tony.
Tony walked around the room for a moment, stretching. Everything hurt. He rubbed over his hands. The red marks on Tony's wrists and ankles were burning and continued to remind him of his helplessness. But it was nothing compared to what Steve had had to endure.
Tony was so glad that the team had found them before it had been too late. He didn’t know what he would have done if they hadn’t made it in time to save Steve.
Tony’s exhausted limbs felt like they were made from lead. But he wouldn't leave Steve’s side, no matter how tired he was. Another day passed, and Steve’s eyes stayed closed.
It was late at night, or really early, when Steve moved for the first time. Only the lights of the nightstands illuminated the scenery. Tony had been on the verge of dozing off when it happened, but all of a sudden the engineer was awake again.
“Steve.” Tony breathed and laid a hand on the side of his beloved’s face. His thumb brushed his chapped bottom lip. “Steve. Hey.”
There hadn’t even been any shift in the steady beeping of the heart monitor. It was the smoothest transition from sleep to wakefulness that Tony had ever witnessed.
The soldier slowly opened his eyes. They were crusty and bloodshot, but still so blue. Tony wanted to sob in relief. His lover’s gaze meant so much to him. How long he'd looked into those eyes and hadn't been able to see what really lived in them. It had taken him embarrassingly long to see behind the facade of the righteous captain and discover the lonely little guy that the world seemed to have forgotten about.
Steve’s eyes had almost lost their spark back then. But it was as if the more time they spent together, the more alive he seemed to become. His eyes were as bright as his personality and Tony had fallen in love with the open-mindedness and curiosity that he found there.
“Tony…” Steve said, but his voice broke on it and he started coughing.
Hurriedly, Tony brought him a glass of water and a straw. After Steve had sated his thirst, he sank back into the pillows with Tony’s help. His gaze never left him. Gently the engineer placed his hand on Steve’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under his palm.
“I see you,” Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand found Tony’s. He smiled. It was weak and tiny, but the most gorgeous thing in the world.
Tony leaned in and kissed him, gently and tenderly. A tear rolled down his cheek and he didn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t. Too big was the need to see Steve, to make sure he would never go away again. “I love you too.”