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Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were extremely influential men.
They were heroes; they stared death in the face and fought if off every other week. One was a genius, billionaire philanthropist whose inventions made him rich beyond belief, who then proceeded to write enormous checks to charities and fund and co-lead the Avengers. The other is a WWII hero who sacrificed himself to save many millions of people, was released from a cryogenic sleep 70 years later, and immediately reclaimed his place as a soldier on the front lines against evil that almost no one else dared face, leading the Avengers through countless battles of good vs. evil, life vs. death, and peace vs. chaos.
Yes, they were men that may as well have ruled the world, given how many they influenced, how much they sacrificed, and how dedicated they were to protecting it.
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Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were still human.
They felt fatigue. They felt pain. They felt distress. They felt anxiety.
Tony Stark was weighed down by his duties. His mind never slept, and his ideas never ceased. There was always something. Something to be created. Something to be improved. The future constantly rushed forward, and Tony Stark always stayed hot on its heels. He had many sleepless nights, whether they were from nightmares or a full workload. On top of his sleep-deprivation was a constant jet-lag from country hopping, whether for the Avengers or for SI. He was also weighed down by his own self-image and self-worth. He felt the need to prove himself a changed man, but ironically would never accept that he ever did. Deep down was a vulnerable soul who craved affection, love, acceptance, and peace, but was crushed by hostile thoughts who always kept it away, saying it didn't deserve it, and that it never would.
Steve Rogers was weighed down by his title. He sometimes felt that he and Captain America were separate entities. Captain America was a national icon. He was a figure-head; a fallen soldier that came back to life. People cheered for him, and adored him. But that was Captain America. Deep down in a small, bitter place in his soul, he sometimes wished he wasn't. He would be forever grateful for the gift he was given. He would always gladly fight the good fight; to keep the world safe from those who sought to control or destroy. But sometimes, he wished he were like Natasha and Clint. Known, but understated. They kept the world safe, and kept themselves out of the spotlight, where they wished to be. He would even settle for being called by his name. Thor was a given. But people never used Iron Man to address Tony Stark out of battles. He knew that he had once also been considered separate from his alter-ego, but he never once believed it himself. He was Iron Man. He and the suit were one. He fought tooth and nail to keep it that way. For just once, he wanted to be considered that way. It was always Captain this and Captain that. No one even used his first name unless he corrected them multiple times. Steve Rogers wasn't considered. He was expected to roll right past the fact that he had been thrown seventy damn years into the future because he was Captain America. So once in a while, when he was alone in the middle of the night, he turned his back to the uniform and shield hanging by the closet, and slept on his other side, ignoring the faint chill that always seemed to settle in his bones.
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In the beginning, neither men could stand the other. They were like fire and ice. You could never mix them without destroying them both. Steve reminded Tony of what he had never gained, and Tony reminded Steve of all that he'd lost. So they clashed. They argued, and fought, and snarled, and screamed. It was always either silent like being encased in ice, or violent like an erupting volcano. They had never gone to blows, but the words that they yelled sufficed. Neither forgot the hissed words on the Helicarrier that one day.
"Everything good about you came out of a bottle."
"Big man in a suit of armor. Take that away, and what are you?"
They had stabbed each other in the souls, taking their worst thoughts and feelings and shoving them right into the holes they made. This lasted for a long, long time.
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They had bonded on a sleepless night. Dreams of caves and space and red and ice were driven off by the blooming companionship brought by mutual understanding. They began to seek each other out when they struck, and then during daylight. It took a while, but the hostility was soon replaced by tranquility, and eventually, love.
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People wondered how they did it. How they kept going no matter how hectic things got. Despite the chain of events that would drive other people six feet under and then some. They were asked their secret time and time again, and they always responded they same way.
"We just take some time off. Everybody needs a break sometimes."
And it was true. But what went on during said break was an entirely different level of secret.
And even if they looked, they would never find the blue and gold bag hidden in Steve's closet.
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