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In the beginning, Steve doesn’t see anything weird in it.
They’ve finally moved together to the Tower, and as every member of the Avengers starts finding their place in their new dynamic, Stark does too. Bruce seems comfortable spending time in his new lab, Thor has taken great pleasure in trying up cooking, so he spends most of his time in the kitchen, and in the meantime, Nat and Clint are getting used to sparring in the new installations, just as Steve is.
When it comes to Stark, it seems like his place, or at least where he feels more comfortable, is in his workshop, putting his mind to work. Previous to their meeting, Steve knew Stark was a genius. So no, he doesn’t see anything weird in him inviting him to the workshop so they can talk about upgrading his suit in so many ways. He doesn’t see anything weird in Stark taking so much interest in it: not in the way his suit suddenly becomes more functional and definetly not in the way his shield has become more manageable thanks to him.
Just as he doesn’t see anything weird about finding an old New York Dodgers cap in his bed one night after having spent that day’s lunch talking about baseball with his teammates. Tony was there, of course, but he didn’t say much. To be completely honest, Steve had doubted if he was listening to them at the time.
It isn’t until he realizes the cap is a real limited edition that must have cost a small fortune that he starts to wonder just how much attention Stark had actually been paying.
From then on, he starts being more observant. Especially, he starts paying attention to the only person he knows would be able to buy such an expensive, albeit thoughtful, gift.
And he’s not sure what to do with his conclusions.
Barely a week after receiving the cap, Steve comes home to find his entire kitchen remodeled after it confessing to his teammates how hard he was finding it to cook on a ceramic cob, when he had grown up cooking on gas stoves. Barely a few days after, Steve finds new clothes in his dressing room —that huge, almost-empty room he found so daunting in the beginning—. There are suits there —suits that fit him eerily well—, and they remind him of that time he told Tony about not having anything appropriate for the gala he’s invited Avengers to. And then there are other clothes, clothes that bring him back to that time Steve had confessed to Tony how daunting he found 21st-century fashion, and how hard he was finding it to even go shopping.
“There’s just too much to choose from,” Steve told him at the time, a wry smile in place. “I feel like, the moment I try to choose, I’ll drown in all those options. I never had much to choose from in the first place, you know? Ma basically patched up every piece of clothing I owned so they lasted as much as possible.”
Tony didn’t say anything then, nodding to himself instead as he listened to him.
Slowly but surely, he finds himself realizing just how much attention Tony pays to his words. Even when it seems like the genius has his mind on other, more important things, Steve finds himself surprised yet again and again with the results of their conversations. Be it their night chats, when neither of them is able to sleep and both end up drifting towards the common room to drink some milk while watching New York’s skyline, or when Steve ends up sitting on that old sofa in Tony’s workshop, Steve finds out just how relaxing it can be to talk to Tony at the same time he realizes just how much his teammate seems to care about him.
At some point, he begins to wonder.
It’s inevitable, really: they’ve spent the past year and a half living under the same roof, battling shoulder to shoulder and sharing secrets that seemed unshareable not so long ago.
So it’s only natural when Steve starts to wonder if there might be something there, between their conversations and Tony’s attentiveness. He starts to wonder if there might be feelings that surpass what two teammates like them are supposed to experience.
It’s only natural for him to look at Tony in wonder when the genius offers him to go on a trip to Los Angeles to watch the Dodgers. “It won’t be the same, I know,” he says quickly, avoiding his gaze as he balances on the soles of his feet, both hands clutching the two tickets he swears he’s been gifted. “But I thought you’d like to see them one last time.”
At some point, he stops wondering.
Instead, he starts probing. The next time the team is sharing a movie night, instead of looking at Tony with curiosity, thinking about all the possibilities, he takes the opportunity of having him sitting by his side and invites him to rest his head on his shoulder when he starts nodding off. When they finally go to that gala —where Tony can’t seem to take his eyes off him—, and Steve realizes Tony’s uncomfortable around certain people, he stops thinking and, instead, finds himself keeping him near, not hesitating to touch him to guide him across the room.
The next time both of them end up in the common room in the wee hours of the morning, sitting on the couch facing New York’s skyline, he stops just wondering and asks, instead, in a soft, tentative whisper, “You feel it too. It isn’t only me, is it? ”
Tony, already sleepy with his head resting on the crook of his neck, shakes his head softly and, after leaving a soft kiss on his neck, whispers: “Of course not, sweetheart.”
Just as the New York skyline has been the sole witness of the countless sleepless nights they’ve shared, it feels right for it to be the witness of their first kiss.
The first of many.