Work Text:
Kidnapped.
The word echoed in Steve’s mind, blocking out everything else that was being said by the other Ultimates, as he tried to make sense of what seemed so incomprehensible.
When Stark had been late for their scheduled meeting, Steve had rolled his eyes and started it without him, figuring Stark could catch up whenever he decided to waltz in. When it became clear that he was going to be a no-show for the entirety, he only wished he was more surprised.
Stark was probably sleeping off a bender, and probably not alone, he’d thought sourly.
Only he wasn’t.
He’d been kidnapped. No matter how many times Steve repeated the words, they didn’t make any more sense. It seemed so… impossible. That the great Tony Stark could be captured so easily and was unable to do anything to stop it. No technological tricks, no smooth talking his way out of it.
Stark had been ambushed in a brazen attack in full view of the security cameras outside his apartment. Men in ski masks could be seen shoving him into a black SUV, and Stark had appeared surprisingly pliant, barely even putting up a fight. Steve couldn’t see Stark’s face from the angle of the camera, but he wondered if he’d been drugged or disabled in some other way. Because that just wasn’t like him. Stark went down fighting every time. No matter the odds.
It was actually the first thing in his character Steve had respected. To see it so absent now was discomfiting.
Stark wasn’t, Steve knew, actually invincible. Just because he gave off that impression. His illness was proof of that. He was only human, with all the weaknesses and frailties that came with that. He was one of their more vulnerable members, which Steve had pointed out ad nauseam when trying to convince Stark to train for such a scenario.
He wouldn’t always have his suit. Anything could happen. Steve had always insisted that Stark needed to be prepared to defend himself without armour. But it had been more the principle of the thing. A good soldier should always be prepared. But he hadn’t really expected him to ever need it.
And yet.
Steve frowned at the security footage on the television that showed the street outside the Stark headquarters. It was bustling with cars and pedestrians as if nothing of any significance had occurred.
He picked up the remote. Rewound. Watched Stark appear. Watched the men grab him and shove him into their vehicle. Watched them disappear.
Again.
And again.
Rewind. Rewind. Rewind.
Until it felt real. Until he had every detail seared into his brain.
Until he felt the remote splinter under the pressure of his hand.
Shit.
He’d seen everything there was to see. He needed to do something.
Steve spun to face the others.
“What are we doing to find him?” Steve demanded the room, but it was Jan who responded.
“Stark Industries are cooperating with the police, they’re going through recent activity, business deals, rivals—”
“Okay, fine,” Steve said impatiently, “but what are we doing?” He needed to do something.
“There isn’t really anything for us to do. There’s been no hint that anyone has been planning something like this. Until there’s some kind of lead, something we can act on-”
“Not good enough!” Steve interrupted. Again.
“Easy, Rogers.” Clint placated. Which was rich coming from him, but. Steve was getting a bit worked up. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, urgency racing through him. He just couldn’t stop thinking about where Stark was, who had taken him, where they’d taken him, and most importantly, what they were doing to him.
He needed to get his shit together. Getting emotional wasn’t going to do Stark any good. He needed to be calm, to focus solely on finding Stark. There was no room for any distractions. The memory of the last time he and Stark spoke flared, but he shoved that away too. He couldn’t think about that now. He’d deal with that once Stark was back in one piece. For now, it was… unimportant.
Steve straightened, squared his shoulders, and spoke in his most controlled voice. “Stark is… one of us. And I don’t believe in leaving a man behind. We need to find him.”
“We will,” Wanda said reassuringly. Everyone murmured their agreements.
Steve nodded sharply. “I’m going to Stark Industries first thing tomorrow morning. There has to be some hint of… something. Men like him don’t just disappear.”
“We’ll dig into enemies of the Ultimates,” Jan said. “See if there’s anything else to find.”
“I’ll see what I can find out, the men who took Stark might have been hired.” Hawkeye added.
“So will we,” Wanda said, Pietro nodding along with only slight reluctance.
____________
“Reconvene this time tomorrow. Sooner, if anyone finds something.”
Steve did not sleep easy that night. He had a plan and determination to find a lead on Stark. That should’ve made it easier. But all it did was give his mind too much space to wander into things better left alone.
But they wouldn’t leave him alone. The memory slithered to the forefront of his brain, completely without his permission.
He and Stark had been growing closer, lately. Steve didn’t know when they’d gone from uneasy acquaintances to cordial teammates, to something that felt like friendship.
Tony just got under his skin, and at first it had been mostly irritation. Bemusement, at its very best. But quite without his permission, some kind of unlikely bond had formed. They were so different from each other. Their temperaments, experiences, everything.
It didn’t make much sense to Steve. What it was about Tony that he found himself liking so much. He also couldn’t wrap his mind around why Tony would like him back. They just seemed to have so little in common. So little to bring them together in any way.
But there was something about being around Tony that just felt easy. Like Steve didn’t have to try and mould himself into something expected, something that just didn’t fit, so that they could understand each other.
Sure, Tony was everything modern and didn’t understand Steve’s old-fashioned tendencies. But Tony wasn’t someone who fit in, either. There weren’t a lot of Tony Starks. He stood out. Didn’t conform to anyone else’s expectations.
It made Steve feel like he could relax a little. Like he wasn’t playing catch up, or acting a role. He could just be himself.
Tony seemed to feel the same, obnoxious bravado slipping away to reveal a man who didn’t have his charm dialled up to a ridiculous degree, yet was inherently charming, regardless. A man who was as intelligent as his arrogance proclaimed him to be. Who was kind, far kinder than he pretended to be.
Steve had let down his guard. He hadn’t seen any harm in becoming friendlier. It felt good to have a new friend. It eased the feeling of isolation that dogged him still.
He hadn’t ever expected. Well. Tony seeking his friendship seemed unlikely enough. Seeking anything else? Downright impossible.
Steve was aware that relationships between two men was something that was accepted these days. But it was just another baffling fact of the future that Steve did not think about. He didn’t want to think about it.
So even though they had been spending more and more time together after hours, dinners that were, in retrospect, a little too intimate, and movie nights that admittedly ran a little late. Steve just hadn’t let himself think it meant anything more than he wanted it to.
It had seemed like a safe strategy at the time. But it meant that he hadn’t been remotely prepared. Not for Tony to corner him on his way out the door, and not to handle the situation delicately. In a way that would preserve their friendship.
No, he hadn’t been prepared for that at all.
Tony had walked him to the front door, which was strange all on its own because he usually just waved when Steve took his leave.
Steve opened his mouth to say something blandly polite, and the next thing he knew, Tony was crowding him up against the wall.
“What are you—Stark.”
“I think you can call me Tony, don’t you?” He replied with a flirty grin.
“Tony.” He tried to thread the name with warning, for all the good it did. Tony only moved closer, if such a thing was possible, and pressed his lips against Steve’s lips.
Steve considered, for one single damning moment, pressing back into Tony. The shameful part of him that had allowed every liberty that Tony had taken, wanted to sink into the guilty pleasure. He wanted.
But no. That couldn’t happen. That could never happen.
Steve shoved Tony away, and he actually looked shocked. Like it hadn’t occurred to Tony that he would be rebuffed. Steve had clearly done something very wrong if Tony hadn’t even considered that possibility. He was just as much to blame.
“What the hell, Tony. I have no interest in that or-or in…you.” He only hoped he sounded appropriately dismayed. Not yearning or any other ridiculous emotion. It was distaste. That was all. “I understand that you might, that it’s accepted… but I'm not that kind of man. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t act so familiarly in the future.”
As he talked, Steve had watched Stark’s expression grow steadily colder. Harder. Something in him clenched at the loss of warmth he hadn’t even properly appreciated… but this was for the best. He couldn’t lead Stark on. More than he had already, apparently.
Stark opened his mouth, and Steve braced himself for the sharpness of his response. It would be vicious, there was no doubt.
But nothing came. Stark shook his head, jaw clenched tightly, and pulled away from Steve, back down the hallway and out of sight. A distant sound of a slamming door following.
That was it then. Over. Stark would never look his way again, and Steve wouldn’t have to worry about his inappropriate interest any longer.
It was for the best, really. They would forget this had happened eventually.
But Steve couldn’t forget it. The way Stark–fuck–Tony, had looked at him. The way Steve had made him look. Ever since then, Steve had tried to exclusively call him Stark, to create some sense of distance. Like if he called him that, he would simply be Steve’s teammate and nothing else.
It was fucking ridiculous, honestly. Completely arbitrary. It had helped him get through these past few weeks of brief glances, and coolly professional exchanges.
Only it wasn’t really helping. Those brief moments where he had been Tony had left an imprint on him that he couldn’t escape. And all he could think of now, staring up at his ceiling, was what if. He didn’t want to even think it, but the thought hovered there all the same. What if something happens to him and that was the last thing I ever said to him. The last thing he remembers?
No. Steve couldn’t think about that. Tony was fine. Hurt, most likely. But he’d recover and Steve would, he would… He honestly didn’t know what he’d say. Much as he regretted what he’d said to Tony, he didn’t know what he should say instead. What he could say. It was one thing to be able to think the right thing to say, but it was harder, much harder to say the words aloud. To let them be heard.
And after what he’d said to Tony, he couldn’t exactly half-ass it. After such a flat out denial, rejection, it wouldn’t be an easy fix. Steve still didn’t know if he was… hell, if he was brave enough to say anything Tony would want to hear.
But he damn well wanted to try. And first he needed to bring Tony home. Steve threw his bed covers aside. He didn’t think he was going to get any sleep tonight. Might as well see if there was anything about Stark in the news that stood out. He had to start somewhere.
Steve found nothing that night. Or the next day at Stark Industries, pouring over useless bits of information that didn’t tell him anything useful.
He took home a folder of Tony’s personal documents the next evening. Something he’s sure Tony’s secretary wouldn’t have been too happy with. Which was why Steve didn’t tell her. He didn’t give a damn about security concerns right now.
He skimmed through those pages, finding nothing that seemed noteworthy, and growing increasingly frustrated. If he didn’t find anything, if there wasn’t anything to find, what then? Just sit around waiting for some kind of random call? Were they even in that kind of situation? Wouldn’t they have already called, in that case.
Steve sighed, about to give up on finding anything useful, when he noticed it. A small, black notebook sitting at the back of the folder.
He flipped through it, finding schematics, equations, scribbles, doodles. Nothing, basically. Nothing that told him anything. But what had he been expecting, really? Tony writing a note that warned of his impending—
Steve paused.
This page had more than stray thoughts that Tony had felt the need to record. As Steve read down the page, he felt in his gut that this was it. This was significant.
Fucking Otto Octavius. Why on earth did I take this meeting? I can think of so many better things I could be doing with my time. Like a root canal. Or an AA meeting. He’s just going on and on and on. He only gets more patronising if he thinks I’m not paying attention to him, so I’ll just keep pretending he’s fascinating enough to record all of his inanity. Honestly, like having a Doctorate makes him any less of a dumbass. And people call me a megalomaniac. I’ve got nothing on this guy.
Steve frowned. He’d never heard of this Octavius, and just because Tony didn’t like him didn’t necessarily make him his kidnapper. But what if the meeting didn’t end well, and Tony pissed this guy off? If he was as much of a megalomaniac as Tony said, he might have gone to extreme lengths. Wanted to punish Tony, or wanted something from him? He didn’t know why they’d met in the first place.
Steve opened up his computer and set about finding some more information.
Dr. Otto Gunther Octavius was purportedly a brilliant and respected nuclear physicist, atomic research consultant, inventor and lecturer, born in Schenectady. Steve watched some interviews, some recorded lectures, and well. He and Tony did agree on some things, he supposed. Octavius did seem to think an awful lot of himself, and there was an intensity to him that Steve felt unnerved by.
He picked up his phone. “I’ve found something. Let's meet at HQ.”
Steve didn’t know if Octavius was responsible, but he trusted his gut, and it was a lead. The first one they’d had so far.
And if he was responsible? Steve would make damn sure he regretted it.
__________
It took another full day to find anything else to go on. The Ultimates had spent the day learning everything they could about Otto Octavius. With every new concerning thing they found out, and every hour that passed, Steve could feel himself winding tighter and tighter.
If he didn’t have someone to punch soon, he was going to go out of his mind.
But finally, finally they had something to go on. Clint got a hold of one of the men who had kidnapped Tony. It was a good thing the man was mercenary, more than happy to share what he knew, with some monetary encouragement. Otherwise Steve might have had to use some more forceful encouragement, and in his current state of aggravation that it was all taking too long, Steve didn’t think he’d go very easy on him.
Everything happened very quickly after that. They suited up, scoped out the research facility, and made a plan of attack.
Then it was go time.
Steve was single-minded. Find Tony. Find Tony. Find Tony.
Punch. Elbow. Kick. Throw his shield. Hold it up to protect himself from gunfire. Fight. Fight. Fight. They were all simply obstacles that were in his way and needed to be removed.
Steve threw open a door and stepped inside, finding no guards or weapons to be taken care of. Only cowering scientists. “Please don’t—we don’t want any trouble.”
“Where. Is. Tony. Stark.”
Silence.
Steve took a slow step forward, wearing his most ominous glower.
“Okay, okay! He’s down one level. At the very end of the corridor. But it has a-a passcode.”
“What’s the code?” Steve asked, lifting up his shield when they took too long to answer.
“4739.”
“Thank you for your help,” Steve smiled. “You might want to get out of here.”
—————
It took much longer than it should have to get to the right room. It wasn’t a great distance, but Octavius had hired a lot of security. Not particularly well-trained security. But it did take an irritating amount of time to knock them all out.
Eventually Steve made his way down the stairs to the basement level, all the way down the corridor to the very last room. Typed in the code. Heart racing. Bracing himself for further attacks. But there was no one else. Only Tony.
Bruised. Beaten. Stripped down to his boxers and tied down to a bench.
“Tony.”
Steve rushed to his side, carefully ripping the restraints around his ankles and his wrists.
“Mrmmm,” Tony mumbled, eyes frantically moving beneath his eyelids.
Steve's hands hovered over Tony’s body, but he didn’t want to hurt him, and there was nowhere safe to touch. He was hurt all over. He wanted to murder Otto fucking Ovtavius.
Steve settled for gently running a hand through his hair. “Tony,” Steve breathed, pained.
“Hey, Steve,” he mumbled dazedly, eyelids fluttering open. “You made it. You’re… really here, right?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Good, good. Thought I might’ve been dreaming.”
“Not a dream. You’re okay now. You’re alright?”
“Fine, jus’ a scratch.”
“A scratch, huh?”
He shrugged. Winced. “No big deal. I didn’t tell them shit. No spilled sec-secrets here.”
“Of course not.”
“Spit in Octavius’ fuckin’ face and everythin’. You’da been proud.” He slurred, his lips curving in a facsimile of a smile.
“Let’s get you out of here, huh? Can you move?”
“Mm, a little bit drugged, but I can probably move.”
Tony had flown the Iron Man suit drunk, so if anyone could handle it, it was Tony.
Steve carefully helped Tony into a sitting position, wrapping Tony’s arm around his shoulder, before pulling him onto his feet. Steve supported Tony’s weight and together they moved across the room.
The door flew open and Steve startled back, pulling his shield up protectively, but it was only Clint.
“We need to leave. We set off an alarm and I don’t know what it’s gonna do, but I don’t think it’s gonna be pretty.”
“Lead the way.”
Tony and Steve followed Hawkeye, Steve leaving the taking care of the bad guys to him, focused on keeping a good hold on Tony.
There weren’t many people left, and most of them seemed more concerned with getting out themselves than stopping their progress. Steve didn’t like to think about what they were all afraid of, that Octavius would have fail safes that would hurt his own people. But the end result was that they were soon out of the facility, and he was herding Tony inside an ambulance.
He argued. Because of course he did.
“I’m fine, really. This is all a bit unnecessary.”
“Then the doctors can tell us you’re fine.” Steve gave his best ‘you’re not winning this argument’ glare, and Tony acquiesced.
His compliance didn’t last long, predictably.
As soon as the doctors declared that Tony only needed rest, painkillers and ice packs, he insisted on leaving.
“There’s nothing they can do for me here that I can’t do in my much more comfortable home,” he insisted, with his own ‘you’re not winning this argument’ glare. Steve relented.
In Tony’s luxurious bedroom—that he had never seen the inside of, he noted vaguely—the Ultimates sat in chairs around Tony’s bed. Tony gave a dramatic retelling, from his meeting with Octavius that had ended badly when he had declined interest in Octavius’ theoretical project.
“And you didn’t think to mention this to anyone?” Steve couldn’t help interjecting.
“I thought he was an ass, Steve. I didn’t know he was actually crazy enough to inject me with a fucking paralysing agent outside of my building.”
Octavius had wanted Tony’s Iron Man schematics, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get it. “I was formulating my own escape, I’ll have you know. But you guys were a good second option,” he grinned.
Jan laughed. “I’m sure yours would’ve been very impressive.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
Eventually everyone left, there were reports to be filed, information they’d gathered at the facility to be sorted through, and Octavius was still out there, a problem that definitely needed to be dealt with.
Usually Steve would’ve gone with the team. He should go with them. But he didn’t move. And the others didn’t even seem surprised.
Shrugging the implications of that thought off, Steve moved to sit down in the chair closest to Tony.
Tony’s eyes, which had closed when they were all filing out, fluttered open. For a moment, all Steve could see was warmth, and Steve felt—but then it didn’t matter. Because the warmth disappeared, shuttered away.
“Hey Steve,” he said in a cool tone.
It seemed that now that Tony wasn’t drugged, or in lots of pain, or surrounded by teammates, now that they were alone, well. Tony was clearly remembering the last time they had been alone.
Remembering that Steve didn’t deserve his warmth.
Steve couldn’t stand it. “Tony.”
Tony raised a challenging brow. “Yes, darling?”
Steve sighed. He didn’t… know what to say. He’d known this was coming. Known he’d need to say something. Even if it was just sorry.
But he didn’t want to just make amends and move on. He wanted, he wanted…
“Tony.” He grasped Tony’s hand between two of his own.
Tony’s expression softened, ever so slightly. “Yes?”
“I’m really…” Steve had to choke back some of the emotion that threatened to spill out in some kind of embarrassing display. “Glad you’re okay. I was worried you wouldn’t be.”
Tony nodded, his piercing gaze making Steve feel horribly exposed.
“I was scared,” he blurted.
“Sorry for scaring you. But I’m fine.”
“No, I mean. I was worried about you, of course. But I mean—before. When you, and I said… I was scared.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not easy for me. Accepting that something has been happening between us. I’ve spent my whole life not even entertaining thoughts like that. I was so unprepared to give you what you wanted that night. Didn’t know how to let myself…” the words just spilled out of Steve. More than he’d ever expected himself to admit, really. But it felt good, right, admitting these things.
“I understand.”
Steve frowned. That was it? He’d expected more, somehow.
“Okay, but—”
“Look, Steve.” Steve’s heart sank. Had he exposed himself for nothing? Was Tony going to say that he’d missed his chance, that it was too late?
“I’m thinking the past few days put things into a little perspective for you, hmm? What’s a little bit of fear compared to thinking I was in danger?”
Well. “Yes,” he admitted grudgingly.
“It’s not always going to be life and death scenarios, Steve.”
Steve looked at Tony sceptically.
Tony laughed. “Okay, okay. More life and death scenarios than most people, I’ll give you that. But if you’re saying that me getting hurt has changed your mind and now you want… something with me,” he sighed. “This urgency will fade. When it’s not life and death you’ll realise that I’m fine and whatever fears you have, thoughts you have that made you react that way when I kissed you… they don’t just disappear, Steve.”
“I know that.” He frowned. Not sure if what he was feeling was annoyed at being condescended to, or just disappointed that Tony didn’t… “you don’t want this anymore? Now that you I’m—”
“Sweetheart. It’s not about not wanting. I’m not sure I know how to stop wanting you.”
Steve felt a rush of pleasure and breathlessness at that proclamation.
“I just want you to be sure. I’m not saying you have to shout it from the rooftops or anything. But if we do this and then you regret it, or you’re ashamed—” he broke off, his expression cracking open, and that’s when Steve saw it.
Tony was scared.
It was shocking, even if it shouldn’t be, to see that Tony was afraid too. It made Steve feel closer to him. Like he wouldn’t be alone in his uncertainty. They could be afraid together.
“I’m not indecisive, Tony. If I change my mind about something, I’ve changed it. I’m not just going to change it back because it’s harder than I thought it would be. You can…” Steve looked down, gathering his composure before he looked up again. “You can trust me. I might hurt you again but I won’t lie about how I feel or what I want.” Not again. That was the best promise Steve could make. He wouldn’t give Tony false platitudes.
Tony looked thoughtful for a few moments, before his lips curled into a sly grin. “So, Steve. What do you want?”
“You.” It was really that simple.
“Kiss me, then.”
Steve hesitated. “But your face—”
Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault you have shitty timing. We could’ve been fucking for weeks now, but you had to be all stubborn and now a kiss is the best I can do. I don’t care if it hurts a little.”
Okay then. Steve leaned forward, curled his hand around the back of Tony's head, and pressed their lips together. Tony met the kiss with enthusiasm, barely letting them settle into the kiss before he was pressing his tongue against Steve’s lips.
“Pushy,” Steve murmured.
“Get used to it.” Tony responded, before shutting them both up.
Steve didn’t know how long they sat there kissing. He lost all sense of time. But eventually they pulled back, Tony wincing a little.
“I told you—”
“It was worth it,” Tony responded with a pleased grin. Steve couldn’t help but return it.