Work Text:
It starts off slow at first:
Steve is in a trench, and he's spitting mud out of his mouth.
There's dirt caked under his fingernails- most of it is dry, but he's still leaving some smears when he wipes them on his pants.
Somewhere, someone is saying, "Cap."
He's in a trench, and there's blood dirt under his fingernails, and Bucky is ten feet away and screaming bloody murder and-
"Cap!"
he's reaching for Bucky, stretching his arm out as far as it will go, and-
"Steve!"
Steve bolts up, a fist coming up to-
He stops himself less than an inch away from punching Tony in the jaw and clamps his hand down onto the bed, breathing hard.
Tony, bless him, doesn't flinch. "Well, that's never going to get less awkward. So, uh, you're welcome? I'll just-"
"Don't go," Steve says, and winces at how pleading it comes out.
Tony pauses from where he had just taken a step back. For a second, he just stares at the floor, but then he says, "Okay," like he has no idea what he's doing, and sits awkwardly on the desk beside the bed.
Steve feels like an idiot- he's sweating, hell, he's shaking slightly. It wasn't even that bad of a nightmare.
Eventually, he blurts, "You don't have to-"
"I'm aware," Tony interrupts. "Sorry about waking you up, by the way. Or not. You were kind of- thrashing? Is that the word? I swear I can find a better adjective tha-"
"It's- it's a swell adjective, Tony," Steve half-laughs, putting a hand up to his forehead. "Um. Sorry I almost punched you."
Tony waves his hand. "Could've happened to anybody. I get punched in the face more than you think. So, uh. Do you have dreams like this often?"
Steve snorts quietly to himself. "Have to keep Captain America safe, sane and healthy, right?"
Tony smiles wryly. "Honestly? Captain America can handle himself. I'm more worried about Steve."
Steve looks up at him fully for the first time since waking up- he half expects Tony to be winking at him, or something, but Tony's face is dead serious.
Steve's mouth flaps open, and he closes it. "I. Thanks."
He's leaning forwards before he knows what he's doing, and Tony doesn't stop him, just sits there shock-still as Steve presses his mouth softly against his.
Steve's delirious. That's gotta be what's happening, because Tony's lips are unmoving against his but they're still present , and why the hell is he kissing Tony-
He knows why, of course, because he can't stop thinking about him and he keeps watching him at the stupidest of times and it's probably going to get them both killed one day, and he's still shaking from the nightmare and Tony is-
kissing back.
What?
Tony's mouth moves slowly against his, and his lips are so mind-numbingly gentle, too gentle for the Tony Stark he's seen on TV, but Steve knows by now that Tony isn't the same guy he sees on TV.
Tony's lips press slightly harder, and Steve pulls back so fast that his back hits the wall.
For a second, they just stare at each other, and Steve finally manages to choke: "Sorry."
Tony blinks, and then he's standing up and his hand is at his ear. "Uh, yeah, I. Uh. I'm just gonna- go."
Steve watches the light cross the room for a long time.
-
He dreams of too-gentle lips, and loud eyes, and warships, warships bleeding black and red and that German voice screaming and Peggy not teaching him how to dance and that hand forever outstretched towards him and Bu-
-
Steve rolls over, irritated, and says: "Bucky, buzz off, I'm trying to sl-"
His eyes slit open and the skyline of New York blares back at him, and it slams into him like hitting a wall:
The words sour and die in his mouth, and he's sitting up before he realizes it, and his head is crushed into his hands and Bucky's not here because he's dead and he's been dead for the last 70 years but it's still only been a year and damn if that doesn't screw with his mind and he can still see Bucky's face, clear as day, with his mouth open and screaming his name as the cold air slices-
"Steve?"
Steve blinks hard, and Tony is standing at the door.
If it was anyone else, Steve would think he's standing a bit uncertainly, but it's Tony, and Tony doesn't do uncertain.
Steve says, "Wha- oh, the interview, right?"
Tony is staring slightly. "Uh, yeah."
Steve nods and turns to reach for his outfit that had been laid of the day before, and Tony says, "Hey, you okay?"
Steve hits his head on the shelf that has his tie on it, and he manages to stifle his swear. "What do you mean," he says, too fast.
Tony raises an eyebrow at him. "Nothing. You're obviously fine. Absolutely. A blind person could tell that. People will bask in the glow of how okay you are."
Steve bites down on a grin, the awkwardness of last night evaporating. "I sense sarcasm."
Tony shrugs. "You sense right. Come on, we have to be there in-"
Steve watches the slick smudge of Tony's mouth as he talks.
-
Steve is mumbling something about hating being on TV, because his hair gets this nervous little curl to it at the front.
Tony says, "I like your hair," and then startles, like shit, I said that out loud, and Steve watches his face before it dissolves back into Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy etc, and it makes something turn over in his gut.
Steve recognizes nowadays how Tony looks when he's like this: the right combonation of sleep deprived, dehydrated and hungry to accidentally say things out loud.
-
Steve shudders himself awake, and a piece of toast is promptly shoved at him.
After a second of puzzlement, he realizes that the hand holding the toast is Tony's, and he takes it with a muttered thanks.
Tony says, "12th of December, 2012," like it's casual, like he does this all the time, like it doesn't really matter.
Steve says, "Thanks," a bit quieter than he means to.
Tony watches him over the rim of his mug. "No problem."
-
Natasha's watching him weirdly for the entire day afterwards- he goes up and asks her about it, but she just bats her eyelashes in that disturbingly terrifying way of hers.
"Check yourself before you wreck yourself, Cap."
-
Steve is zoned out when he's walking back to his room after a workout, but not zoned out enough not to hear the tiny whimper that comes from Tony's room.
He immediately dismisses it being a sex noise- he's heard Tony having sex before (and if he thinks about it sometimes, maybe even when it's late and he's tired and his hand is sneaking down his stomach, then that's his business), and this doesn't sound like it.
Even though the door's already cracked open, he knocks.
"Tony?"
The whimper again, and he hears Tony say, "Don't-" before making a choked-off sound.
Steve pushes the door fully open, and Tony is writhing, sheets half-thrown off, his hands scrabbling at a non-existant assailant.
Steve rushes and stops himself from grabbing him just in time- never touch someone when they're in the middle of a nightmare, he remembers from his training, they can exhibit violent tendencies and- he says, "Tony."
Tony just wails, his tone getting more desperate by the second, and Steve steadies his voice: "Tony! Tony, wake up, it's not real, you're-"
Tony snaps awake with a yell and then his hands are at Steve's throat, squeezing, and Steve doesn't pry him off, just croaks, "Tony-"
Tony's eyes widen. "Steve. Shit-"
His hands come to bang against the dry wall and then muddle in his own shirt like he doesn't know what to do with them- "Shit, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"It's fine," Steve wheezes, trying to get over the throbbing in his throat. "Serum, remember, totally fine-" He reaches out to- to- he doesn't even know, he just gets this inexplicable urge to touch Tony sometimes and this is one of those times.
But Tony jerks away. "Don't touch me."
Steve recoils, but then Tony is babbling: "Fuck, I didn't mean- sorry, I thought- PTSD, you know how it is." He blots his hand to his brow, scrunching his eyes shut. "Fuck."
"It's okay," Steve says. "I get it."
Tony makes a 'mmm'-ing noise, and Steve says, "Tony."
He reaches out again, and when Tony flinches, he stops. His hands hover over Tony's wrists. "I get it."
Tony finally looks at him, and Steve leans in again: it's the same, but not. The soft, hesitant press of Tony's lips, but this time, Tony kisses back instantly.
And oh, god, Steve had thought he had exaggerated the soft, chapped feel of Tony's mouth, but thank god he hadn't.
It's Tony that parts his lips, and Steve sucks in air sharply through his nose at the first hot sweep of Tony's tongue against his.
Tony's hands are trailing their way across Steve's back, and Steve has this tight feeling inside his chest: like this is too intense, like he's going to burn up under Tony's fingers.
Steve can feel blood heating his face. "Tony, I- I want-"
Tony looks almost nervous as he says "I know," and kisses him silent.
-
Steve wakes up the next morning warm and slightly sore and too happy for this time in the morning.
He looks down, and Tony is still asleep on his chest, one hand curled around Steve's neck and the other around his waist.
Steve grins to himself, and settles back down to a dreamless sleep.