Work Text:
The bike’s guts, sprawled all over the workshop, covered each available surface. Some had rolled under the table, others overflowed the boxes strewn around the floor. Tony didn’t mind it. It was invigorating to turn the primeval mix of screws, cables, and pipes into a functional machine
Steve, on the other hand, kept rearranging the parts into patterns that were both aesthetically pleasing and functionally efficient. His neat freak tendencies were one of Steve’s most hidden yet endearing traits, alongside small details like how he lined up his fries before eating them or his penchant for painting traumatic moments. It had been one of the things that had made Tony fall in love with him alongside his steadfast belief in the goodness of people, his bravery, his wry sense of humor, his cleverness, his stubborn streak, his great hugs, the striking blue eyes, the perfect floppy hair, his gorgeous face…
He shook his head. Yes, they had just begun dating but Tony had to drop the infatuated schoolgirl act. And erase all his doodles about being Mr. Stark-Rogers from his whiteboard before Steve noticed.
‘Are you going to help me? Or did you come here just to goof off?’ he said, his tone light and teasing. ‘Because if you’re not going to pull your own weight, I’m revoking your workshop privileges.’
He was lying. Even when they were just friends, Tony had been utterly incapable of saying no to Steve. And after he had discovered how fantastic making out with Steve was… well, at least utter defeat felt amazing.
‘I would help, but you don’t let me touch anything.’
Oh, the pout was audible. ‘I will, I will... All you have to do is follow my instructions.’
‘I don’t need your instructions, Tony.’ And that was Steve’s petty side which regrettably Tony found adorable. ‘I was working on bikes before you were even born.’
Tony raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay, old man. I know that, but bikes have changed in the past century.’
‘As if I couldn’t tell.’
The bitterness in Steve’s tone was startling and not at all like his usual sunny self. Maybe working together on the bike had been a bad idea for a date. Next time they’d go to an amusing park or to Paris for a whirlwind night of romance and macarons. That’d mean no more sexy mechanic Steve, but it was a price Tony was willing to pay. ‘Hey, Steve, has something happened?’
‘No. Sorry, Tony. I’m… fine.’
Steve had crossed his arms — the way his biceps bulged was very distracting — which meant that something was definitely up. He put an arm around Steve’s waist and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder. ‘You know you can tell me, right?’
‘Tony,’ Steve sighed. ‘I said there’s nothing going on.’
Contrary to his words, he automatically burrowed against Tony, still pouting. Had something gone down with the team? Was Steve just tired? Or brainwashed?
Or maybe Tony was the reason. He wasn’t the most emotionally attuned person: sometimes he hurt his loved ones without noticing. He raised both his palms. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry for what?’
‘For… whatever thing I did.’
‘You didn’t do anything. I told you I’m fine. Can’t you believe me? I believe you when you say you’re fine.’
‘We both know that’s not true. And if you’re fine like I’m fine… well, I’m worried.’
‘Oh, so you admit that…?’
He didn’t finish his sentence because the screeching alarm of the Tower began blaring. Both of them frowned — it was summer. Summers were their time off: analysis of Tony’s data had proved conclusively that in August, supervillains left for sunnier beaches with the alacrity of a Parisian office worker. Tony had never tried to track them down. After all, the exodus allowed the Avengers time to catch up on their training, their mountain ranges of paperwork, and their belated spring cleaning. Hulk had really gotten into closet organizing lately.
‘The alarm? JARVIS, assemble the team! And get me the armor!’
But before JARVIS could even talk, time shifted and space shattered. For a second or for a week, life was a silent movie: no colors, distorted shapes, their movement too fast yet too slow. Steve ran towards the door while Tony tried to move toward his armor. But it was as if he were trapped in melted marshmallows. No matter how much effort he made, he wasn’t getting any closer.
In the middle of the floor, a black miasma was spreading, like an oil stain over water. The black substance was filled with stars he couldn’t recognize and asteroids crashing against each other. A portal, then. To a place he didn’t want to visit.
Something yellow and bright began climbing out of it, one tendril at a time. Tentacles. It was tentacles. Of course it was a tentacle monster — summer had gotten a lot more interesting. He was so distracted by the slow crawling and the time distortion he didn’t notice where the tentacle was headed to.
‘Watch out, Tony!’ Steve said and dove towards him with all his ballerina-like grace.
But it was too late: a tentacle was already coiling around Tony’s chest and dragging him to the black hole. Steve rolled on the floor — good, he wasn’t going to be hurt. Tony could focus on his own predicament then. He tried to squirm out of the monster’s trap, but it was to no avail. Even when he kicked the tentacle, nothing happened. Whatever monster had gotten him, it was too strong.
The thing was floating up from the hole now so Tony could gaze at all its heinous glory. As creatures went, it was a relatively normal one: a giant red eyeball with wriggling, sickly green tentacles, and scaly skin. At least it didn’t seem to have a mouth. It was one of the first lessons a superhero learned: a monster with a mouth is worse than one without. And Tony had long learned to be grateful for small mercies.
‘Greetings, cretins!’ the creature said. Tony was too busy pulling away from the tentacle to answer; Steve liked to be rude to monsters so he didn’t answer either. ‘I said greetings!’
‘Hell—rgh!’ Tony said but the tentacle tightened around his chest. Breathing was becoming harder and harder, damn it.
‘You are most impolite and rude, human rubes!’
‘I think barging in without an invitation is far ruder,’ Steve said with the Captain America voice, the one that made the cheesiest quips sound wry and sarcastic. He had his shield — had he brought it with him to the workshop? Tony hadn’t noticed before but it wouldn’t be a surprise. Steve loved that ridiculous thing.
‘Ah, but I am indeed invited! Sent on a glorious mission!’
That was just great. Of course some idiot had caused this. It wasn’t a surprise. Generally, if a portal to any other dimension opened, it meant somebody had held the door open. Tony didn’t understand why people kept playing with unseen forces beyond their understanding after so many monster rampages through the city.
Steve’s question had distracted the monster and it had loosened its grip on Tony. He took a deep breath: breathing was very underrated. People tended to take it for granted.
‘Well, I own this place and I didn’t invite you!’ Tony said. ‘So who did?’
‘But why, the All-Father himself did!’
‘What?’ Steve said. ‘Odin sent you?
‘Yes! I owed him an ancient debt so I was sent to remind his son of…’
Tony saw a familiar white-red-and-blue blur cutting through the air across the room. There was a disgusting crunching The shield hit the creature’s eyeball with a wet crunching sound. The monster whirred and its tentacles spasmed.
‘Oh,’ he said in the second before he was sent flying against the wall. Without the armor, he got the full force of the hit. His whole body shook and each one of his cells burnt with pain. When he fell to the floor and curled into a ball. His ears were ringing and he could taste blood.
The hole had disappeared so the creature fell to the floor with a hard thump. Tony hoped it hurt as bad as he did. Uncharitable, maybe, but the thing had ruined his day.
Steve strode across the room in mere seconds and knelt next to Tony. He opened one eye. Steve was hovering over him, so close Tony could see how pale he was and how quick his breathing was. He put his arms on Tony’s shoulders and shook him hard, as if he had forgotten he was a super-soldier. ‘Tony! Tony!’
Steve’s voice was so broken and wobbly that it made Tony hurt even worse. ‘Steve, please, stop! It hurts! I’m okay, but you gotta stop shaking me!’
‘S-sorry. I didn’t know if you were conscious — you weren’t talking. You weren’t moving. I panicked.’
‘Of course I wasn’t talking. Every bone in my body hurts, even the ones I don’t think exist.’ He tried to smile, but he realized too late his teeth were bloody. Steve’s frown only deepened. ‘Hey, don’t worry. Just take me to sickbay. I’ll be as good as new in an hour.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Steve said. ‘The hit was… I could hear your head bouncing against the wall. You probably have a concussion.’
Tony rolled his eyes. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time!’ He put one arm around Steve’s shoulders so he could stand up but Steve had other plans. Without even asking, he scooped him up and took him in his arms. ‘Hey, I can walk.’
‘No, you can’t. And even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.’
He slumped against Steve’s warm, strong chest. He hated it when Steve was right. And he wasn’t even having a good time. Most days he enjoyed a good bridal carry, but now Tony hurt so much he couldn’t even enjoy Steve’s thick arms around him.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ Steve grunted but didn’t press the point. He wasn’t too impressed with Tony’s resilience and bravery in the face of pain, clearly. ‘Stop grunting, you grumpy bear.’
Of course, all Steve had to say was yet another growl. The door slid open. ‘You’re late,’ Steve spit out, finally remembering how to talk. ‘We’ve already taken care of it. Next time, be faster. We could have been killed. Or worse.’
Worse? He’d have to ask Steve after about what was worse than being dead. He lifted his head to see who was the unlucky victim of Steve’s lecture: Thor was the only one there.
Well, Steve’s lecture had a point.
‘Is Iron Man alright?’ Thor asked hammer at the ready.
It was nice to know they cared, but they had to work on their response time. This had been nothing, but if it had been somebody like the Red Skull… that would have been bad news.
‘I am,’ he said before Steve could launch into another lecture. ‘Just… can you get rid of the monster? Maybe send it to Asgard. They’ll know what to do with it.’
‘A Rhyming Monstergram?!’ Thor said, touching the slumped monster with one foot. ‘Did you hear the message?’
‘A what?’ Steve asked. ‘Which message?’
‘A Rhyming Monstergram. It’s an Asgardian tradition for important messages.’
Of course. Of course Asgardians sent messages via monster. Via rhyming monsters. ‘Oh. We… kinda punched it before we could. But it did say your father sent it.’
‘Well, now he will surely have to pay extra. Monstergrams don’t like to be punched around.’
‘I don’t think anybody does,’ Tony said.
‘I do. It’s very exhilarating.’
Tony didn’t know why he was surprised — obviously, Thor liked being punched around. Explained a lot about his friendship with Hulk.
‘Get rid of it. I have to take Tony to sickbay,’ Steve said, his voice clipped.
‘Ah, do not worry. I’ll handle it.’
At least he wouldn’t have to deal with the clean-up.
It had turned out to be nothing, for superhero standards. The doctors weren’t too worried and neither was Tony: a few sore ribs, a sprained elbow, a light concussion, a bruised ego. It was too bad he couldn’t erase the footage of him being caught like an idiot who had never fought a tentacle monster before.
Thor had sent the Monstergram back to Asgard; Hulk had turned out to be a good nurse; Clint had turned out to be a great distraction; Nat was keeping the team in check. Everybody was taking it in stride.
Well, not everybody. Steve had turned into a clucking hen overnight. He kept fluffing Tony’s pillows, checking his sling, offering to comb his hair and all sorts of inane things. He only left Tony’s room so he could forage for food and magazines.
It was driving Tony insane.
‘Steve. Steve. I can eat,’ he said when Steve raised the spoon and attempted to feed him. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit hurt.’
‘Tony, your entire face is bruised and swollen. You have a sling. Stop downplaying it. It’s not just a bit hurt and you should let me help you.’
‘I’ve had worse! Way worse!’ he said as he tapped on the arc reactor. ‘You know that. You’ve seen worse. ’
Steve’s face twisted. Oh, what had Tony said to set that off? It seemed to be a constant in their relationship: Tony stepping on landmines he wasn’t even aware were there. ‘Yes, I have,’ Steve said, his voice thick with emotion.
‘Then calm down, will you? The stress can’t be good for my recovery.’
‘Fine,’ Steve said with a huff. ‘If I’m so stressful, I’ll be in the training room then so you can relax.’
Tony slumped against his pillows. He was ruining everything.
By the time Steve came back in carrying sandwiches as a peace offering, Tony had already set up a workstation in his sickbed. He ate one in silence, waiting for Steve to apologize while he checked the security systems. But Steve remained silent, eating his own sandwich slowly.
Stubborn bastard. He’d have to make the first move. Not that he minded: he owed that to Steve. After all, if it had been for Tony, they wouldn’t have gotten together. Steve had kissed him one day, out of nowhere, with his typical recklessness.
‘So?’
‘So what?’
‘So you’re not…’ he waved his hand in the air but Steve didn’t catch his meaning. ‘Apologizing?’
‘For what? For caring about you? For wanting you to be safe? No. I’m not apologizing for being right.’
No, Tony thought, for your terrible mood lately. ‘Well, maybe you should reconsider caring so much but…’
Steve winced. ‘Why do you keep saying those things?’
Tony sighed. Another landmine he hadn’t noticed. His jokes had never been a problem before. ‘They’re jokes. I’m a funny guy that always sees the funny side of things, even sad ones. I thought you liked that about me.’
‘Of course I like that! Yes, you’re very funny, but those jokes are not.’
‘Not funny? They’re some of my best material. And a very good tool for stress relief. My therapist said so.’
‘Not for me,’ Steve said. ‘How would you feel if I said that type of thing?’
Tony had to admit he wouldn’t like that — he didn’t like it when Steve was self-effacing. Sometimes, it seemed as if Steve couldn’t tell how amazing he was. It was flabbergasting. ‘Fine. Fine. I won’t make those jokes anymore.’ His body still hurt and his temples throbbed. He knew what it was — those spikes of pain always preceded a migraine. And his boyfriend, instead of pampering him, kept sulking. ‘Can’t we just cuddle? And watch bad movies?’
‘Whatever you want,’ Steve said. He sat on the bed, his body close to Tony’s, but he didn’t move any closer.
‘I’m not a Victorian damsel, Steve: I said cuddle. So get your ass over here. I’m hurt and in pain and I deserve it.’
He wasn’t above very obvious manipulation tactics so he threw in a pout and some puppy eyes for good measure.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Steve muttered, so quiet Tony almost didn’t catch it.
Tony sighed and rest his weight against Steve. ‘You can never do that.’
Steve, finally defeated, put his arm around Tony’s waist and kept him there. Soon, Tony was falling asleep, no migraine in sight.
A week later, Tony was almost recovered. His only remaining problem, besides some general soreness, was the fact that he was incredibly, mind-numbingly bored. He had binged three seasons of Twinsters — two twin sisters chasing tornados —, two telenovelas about werewolves in love, and seven different documentaries about the lost city of Atlantis that pretended that Attuma didn’t exist. But still, he ached to do something: tinkering, punching people, learning to square-dance. Anything but lie in bed.
He had now begun to work through Steve’s impressive collection of cozy mysteries. They were organized by craft, author, and cover color. In the middle of a novel about a knitter that solved knitting murders — the world of knitting was far more hardcore than Tony had realized —, the Avengers alarm blared across the Tower.
He waited to see if any of his teammates answered the call, but none did. That made sense. Hulk and Thor had gone to New Jersey — Thor loved the Jersey beaches, for some reason —; Clint had refused to join them because it was Jersey. Instead, he had dragged Nat to what they called ‘reconnaissance’ but Tony knew to be ‘a burger joint tour on the Avengers’ dime’. Steve, for his part, was off sulking who knew where.
So, clearly, there was only one obvious solution. A solution that had nothing whatsoever to do with Tony’s boredom. Nope. It was his dutiful nature and his selfless devotion to the people of New York. And yes, it was a mere bank heist that the cops could handle, but he was Iron Man. He didn’t read cozy mysteries, he helped people.
His back hurt when he left the bed but he’d soldier on. So heroic. ‘JARVIS, get the armor ready.’
‘Sir…’
‘Get the armor ready.’
Not even five minutes later, he was flying through the bright summer sky. Hopefully the bank robbers would be good at banter. Witty repartee had been sorely lacking in his life during his long convalescence.
He landed in front of the bank with a low thud and a cool pose. But it was very much a disappointment: with just one look at him, the bank robbers dropped their guns.
The downsides of having a reputation.
‘Really, guys? You’re an embarrassment to the villain community.’
The leader shrugged. ‘Sorry, Iron Man. You pack a mean punch.’
Tony took the long way home. He had missed flying: the silence above the city, people looking like tiny ants, the stars so close he felt he could touch them. By the time he had got to the Tower, the entire team was back.
They were all sitting around a mountain of burgers. Clint and Nat’s generosity, most likely. Hulk and Thor were rushing through theirs, but Steve wasn’t that far behind. He was demolishing burger after burger, chewing with the angriest scowl known to man.
‘Hey, Tony! Think fast!’ Clint threw him a burger with perfect accuracy.
He peeked at it: two patties, Emmental cheese, and aioli. Clint knew his tastes well. ‘So which one was the winner this time?’ he said, smiling. ‘The Burgerouis Pig or The Pattyserie?’
‘None. We found a nice place near…’
Steve stood up before Clint could go on. ‘That’s all you have to say?’
‘Uh, yes? Those two are the best places in town. Not much competition outside of them.’
‘I’m not talking about burgers!’
‘You wanted pizza?’ he said helplessly. The rest of the team had left the room — with not only speed but also stealth. It was surprising how the Hulk could make no noise when he didn’t want to.
Cowards.
‘Are you going to play dumb?’
‘I’m not playing, Steve. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You went to fight!’
‘You can hardly call that a fight.’
‘You’re hurt. You shouldn’t do that.’
‘Steve, please. You would have done the same.’
‘That’s not the point! The point is that you’re risking yourself for no real reason.’
‘I wasn’t risking myself. I’m an adult and a superhero, Steve. I get to make my own choices.’
‘So it doesn’t matter what I think?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘Please. Just rest. Heal up.’
‘I’m almost recovered, Steve.’ He walked toward Steve like one walked toward an angry rhino. ‘See? Perfectly fine.’
‘Nothing happened?’
‘Nothing at all. They gave up with no resistance — criminals have no self-respect anymore.’
When he leaned forward and kissed Steve’s pout, Steve’s shoulders relaxed.
‘I’m sorry,’ Steve muttered after he buried his head on Tony’s neck. He remained silent as Tony nuzzled him. ‘Can we go to bed?’
Tony looked forlornly at the burgers. Hopefully, somebody would remember to put them in the fridge. ‘Whatever you want, darling. You know I can’t say no to you.’
He was missing something vital, he was sure of it. Steve’s wildly changing mood was clearly related to his injuries — that had happened right before the sulking had gone nuclear. Maybe he was working too hard now that Tony was on leave? It was just like Steve to take too much upon himself, caring for both Tony and the team but not for himself.
Therefore, the solution was obviously to lower Steve’s workload. He couldn’t handle training right now and he didn’t want to risk another argument, so he couldn’t go into the field. That left one maddeningly boring option: paperwork. Most of it was done — Steve was always so prompt —, but Tony could make the pile smaller like a very helpful Santa’s elf. He sat down to whittle it down one expense report at a time.
After an hour of combing through Clint’s parking tickets and Hulk’s takeaway receipts, he heard footsteps outside the office. There were elegant and graceful, but too light for Steve. ‘Nat?’
When he turned around, he saw her leaning against the wall. ‘Oh, it was you.’
‘Uh? What was?’
‘I was alerted somebody was doing paperwork. Didn’t expect it to be you.’
‘Hey, I do the paperwork. Sometimes. When the mood strikes me.’
‘And why did it strike you this time? Concussion changed your personality?’
He smiled. ‘Steve’s stressed out, thought this could help.’
‘I don’t know if it will,’ Nat said as she walked up to him.
Tony narrowed his eyes. ‘Do you know anything I don’t?’
A lot of things, probably, but if Nat knew something about Steve Tony didn’t, he had to find out. Thankfully, she had that expression — the one that meant she was dying to tell him. She sat on the desk and tapped her fingers on it. ‘Nope. I have the exact information you do.’
‘But you have different conclusions?’
‘Tony. The whole team does.’
‘You really need to gossip less and train more.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You love the gossip.’
‘No, I don’t. Gossip is for ladies who lunch, not for dashing billionaires.’
‘Hey, so you don’t want to hear what happened with Captain Marvel and the wandering asteroid?’
There was a lot of paperwork. But paperwork, by nature, could wait. Gossip, on the other hand, was better fresh. He closed the screen. ‘Tell me all about it.’
He kept rolling Nat’s words around his head. They both had all the information but had drawn different conclusions. And Nat thought he was wrong, which was often the case. So he had to go back to the drawing board. He erased his former scribblings but left Steve’s doodles — a tiny Iron Man flying through New York, Steve sitting on top of him.
One by one, he listed the factors that had changed:
- broken bike
- Tony’s injuries
- fewer villains to punch because summer
- summer heat
- pecan shortage ??
He tapped his nose as he thought. The answer was staring at him right in the face, but it remained frustratingly out of reach. Maybe if he read a self-help book or two…
When he heard the door slide open, he scrambled to erase the whiteboard. But there was no need: it was Hulk, not Steve.
‘Hey, have you seen Thor?’
‘Nope. Probably still sleeping.’
‘I knocked on his door but…’ He stared at Tony’s list and tilted his head. ‘What’s this?’
‘A list.’
‘Hulk can see. But Hulk wonders why.’
‘Steve’s been acting weird.’
‘You,’ Hulk said with the sage tone of a very green and very bulky Socrates, ‘are a really big idiot. And Hulk knows a lot about really big things.’
He was about to argue — he was the world’s greatest genius! — when the answer became clear. ‘… Well, Jolly Green Giant, can’t argue with that one.’
Well, talking wouldn’t work. Instead, Tony would have to make a grand gesture.
Finding the rusty carcass of a WWII bike had cost time, effort, and money. He had followed a long chain of tips littered with dead ends and conmen who kept trying to cheat him. Amateurs — as if he hadn’t been born wielding a wrench.
But he had, finally, tracked down the exact model Steve had used during the war. The thing was now in his workshop, ready to be miraculously saved by Tony’s magical hands. He had considered working on it in secret, but had decided against it. Steve did know more about these bikes than Tony. And he looked really pretty all sweaty and with his hands full of grease.
So he had ordered some pizza, bought some beer, and asked Steve to meet him at the workshop. The door slid open and Steve stuck his head in. ‘Tony?’
‘In here!’ he said, waving his arm. When he came into the room, Steve frowned at the wreck. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’
‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick lately.’
‘Yes, you have.’
Steve looked at him. ‘Oh, you’re not going to go soft on me.’ He sounded defeated, but his lips had curled into a rueful smile. Good. Tony didn’t want this conversation to go sideways.
‘You’d hate that. Yes, I know you’ve been kind of a dick lately, but I finally figured out why.’
‘Is that why you bought this? It wasn’t… it wasn’t about the bike.’
‘Yes. I know. I think? That’s not why I bought it.’
‘Wait.’ Steve’s eyes widened as he walked closer to the bike. ‘I know these bikes. I can’t believe you found one. It must have been expensive.’
‘Cost me a pretty dime, yep. Worth it, though.’ He put his hand on Steve’s cheek and rubbed his thumb against Steve’s cheekbone. And like a very happy puppy, Steve leaned into the touch. ‘I thought we could work on it. Together.’
When Steve caressed the bike, Tony’s mouth dried up. Trust Steve to turn the smallest gesture into a sexy one. ‘You know, I used to…’
‘Have one of these, yeah. Nazis blew it up, didn’t they?’
Steve’s jaw tensed. ‘Yes. Among other things.’
He put his hand on top of Steve’s. ‘I know it wasn’t the bike. It was me being hurt, wasn’t it?’
Steve sighed, but then he nodded slowly. ‘I guess it brought back memories. Fears.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry because I’m not going to stop getting hurt.’ Steve looked up at him, sharply. Tony could see the hurt in his eyes, but there was no need to lie to Steve. He was strong enough to understand. ‘I’m Iron Man, Steve, just like you’re Captain America. This is what we do. And sometimes, we get hurt.’ He squeezed Steve’s hand. ‘It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy what we have, don’t you think?’
‘It’s… something I love about you, you know?’ He took a deep breath. His eyes were brimming with tears, but he was also smiling. Like rain on a sunny day. ‘One of the things that makes me love you.’
Tony’s jaw dropped. They hadn’t said I love you yet. Yes, of course Tony had known he loved Steve with all his heart from the moment they met, but he hadn’t dared to say it yet. It wasn’t just words — it was a promise.
‘I love you too,’ he blurted out.
‘I know,’ Steve’s smile grew brighter but he shook his head. ‘That’s why I’m so scared. I can never keep what I love.’
Tony leaned forward and rested his forehead against Steve’s. ‘I won’t make any promises. All I can say is that I’ll hold on to this for as long as I can.’
‘I guess that will have to be good enough.’
Tony kissed him, then, and that was as much of a promise as they needed.
The end of summer loomed near. Days were getting shorter, nights were growing chillier. Kids devised plans to avoid going back to school and villains returned to New York, relaxed, tanned, and ready to rumble.
Inside the Tower, things changed as surely as tree leaves turned golden and auburn on Central Park. Tony and Steve’s relationship settled into a comfortable routine of date nights, lazy Sundays in bed, and working late into the night. The rest of the team became so used to it that they even stopped the teasing. Well, all of them except Clint.
Steve moved to Tony’s room one old T-shirt at the time. Now Tony couldn’t sleep without Steve’s arms around his waist and the sound of his steady breathing and he couldn’t wake up if it wasn’t for Steve’s shining smile and his great coffee.
He was grateful for every day they spent together even if the sentiment was something out of a motivational poster. He was a superhero: any day could be the last. But every day he chose Steve and he’d keep on choosing him every day of his life, as short or as long as that turned out to be.
Fixing the second bike had taken them months of tracking down parts down and up the East Coast. They had painstakingly repaired the wreck little by little: first the frame, then the engine. Steve had worked on the paint in between training drills, travels to the beach, and dancing in the workshop with Tony. He hadn’t allowed Tony to see it until now.
Tony glanced at his reflection in the elevator mirror. His white T-shirt was tight enough that it showcased his muscles and his jeans made his ass look great. Good enough, then. He found Steve
outside the Tower, sitting on the finished bike. He sauntered to him, trying to look as sexy as possible.
‘Mr. Stark,’ Steve said. His hair swayed in the wind and he looked so hot leaning against the bike Tony was sure he had practiced the pose — if he hadn’t, Steve’s natural grace would be unfair.
‘Captain America.’
Steve stepped away from the bike and let Tony see it. Tony couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The bike was painted white, red, and blue, except for the front. Steve had decided to give the bike an angry Iron Man face.
‘Really subtle and understated.’
‘Of course. You know us, the subtlest people around. That’s why we wear such tasteful costumes.’ Steve offered him a helmet. ‘What do you say? Want to be my bike babe?’
‘That’s a very tempting offer. But…’
‘I’ll let you drive it. Eventually.’
‘No, you won’t.’
Steve’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. ‘No, I won’t.’
Tony put on the helmet, laughing. As New York streets became a blur around them and the wind roared in his ears, Tony held on.
He would always hold on.