Work Text:
Everything becomes routine, eventually. Adjusting to a new century, new people, a new job, a new relationship… eventually he reached the point where he could simply wake up and go through the day like his life isn’t extraordinary. Like people on the street don’t stare at him like he’s an anomaly. For every small child chirping “I love you Captain America” there’s an old man muttering in his general direction about how Steve is personally responsible for the decay of the once great US of A.
Sometimes in bed, Sharon looks at him with the same eyes. They are past staying up talking all night, and he’s reached the point where it feels unnatural to simply ask what she’s thinking about. They’re not teenagers – somehow it feels like he’s just supposed to know… but he doesn’t. Instead he watches her wandering eyes, and he’s seen how her gaze have taken on a different form throughout the years. It’s not that she doesn’t love him. It’s just that life is ever-changing, and they don’t cling to each-other every night like they used to. They don’t listen to each-other with unwavering attention, not really. Instead they’ve fallen into a routine, both at work and at home, and sometimes – but only sometimes – he’s happy that they don’t spend much time together while on the job.
He’s happy to spend his days – and sometimes nights – dedicating all of his being to something else. He loves his team, loves having a purpose, and even though it’s technically a routine by this point, he keeps finding new things to be passionate about. If one of those things isn’t a thing as much as he is a person – as much as he’s a dear friend – well, that’s a secret for Steve to keep.
Many people read Steve as a stubborn man, but more than anything, he’s passionate. Emotions hit him so hard that he has to stay true to his heart, because if he doesn’t he’s bound to go under. Usually he won’t be lead astray, but recently his heart has been leading him places he shouldn’t go. His gaze has been straying during one too many meetings. His aimless pacing through the corridors of the tower has lead him to the workshops a bit too often.
So he does something that a young Steve Rogers would find unacceptable; he turns his back on the problem and legs it. Out into the night, swept away into the city until he washes up in the basement of some bar. An outsider may think he’s just there for the alcohol, but no – Steve is here to disappear.
It's not that he wants to die. He just wants to... not feel alive for a while. There's no better way to disconnect from life than to attend live shows. Indie bands who, for a brief moment, fill a room with a base heavy enough to drown out his heartbeat and fill the void in his chest. Drawing breath, steady pulse; everything that makes him a living human being is drowned out, and for a while he doesn't exist. There's no Captain America – no Steve Rogers – he's no longer a solitary being. In his submission to the music he becomes all and nothing, and it’s only when the room grows silent that he reconnects with life. With reality.
These late-night visits to bars, and sometimes even underground clubs, are not particularly secret, but he does keep to himself and doesn’t try to connect with anyone in particular.
Steve keeps telling himself that there’s no one he’d like to spend this time with, because it’s easier than admitting who he’d like to have by his side. It’s easier than imagining their bodies in the dark; a dishevelled suit and lips tinged with scotch smoky enough to burn through his skin. It’s easier than inviting others to fill the void that could never be filled by anyone but... well…
It’s certainly better than bringing Sharon along and unfairly comparing her to an idealized rival that he would never in a million years pursue.
So a few nights every month, he finds himself in a basement somewhere. Afterwards he can’t remember if he danced. If he sang along. It’s not that he was drunk, it’s just that he lost himself for a moment. While that pulse, that does not quite match his own, fills his entire being, he can finally let go. It’s not something he’s planning to share with anyone else.
However, it seems like that certain “anyone else” might be planning to join him anyway. Because while Steve has been keeping his distance – has loyally remained Tony’s friend while simultaneously avoiding excessive touching and late night hangouts – Tony has been all but explicit with his intentions. Part of Steve wishes that he was imagining things, but as they’ve made it through days; weeks; months, the passing glances have lingered all the more. Pats on the back have turned into hugs, occasional collaborations on the team have all but morphed into co-dependency. Tony’s voice, all gravel from just getting out of bed, urging him to come to the workshop – he needs Steve’s input to finalize his armour tweaks. He needs Steve’s opinion on building a shelter for gifted youngsters. But more importantly, he needs Steve.
Every day when meeting up with the team, Tony’s there; his smile wide, his eyes constantly searching for something that Steve’s not ready to offer. Yet all it takes to disintegrate his resolve is a moment of weakness as he’s about to leave the tower for the day. Tony catches him in the hallway, spouting a string of words that may be cohesive in some universe out there, but to Steve it’s mostly gibberish. He smiles, and while his intention is to simply wish Tony a good night, other words spill from his lips.
“I’m going to see a band.” And while it’s technically not too late to do the right thing, Steve gave up long ago.
“Want to come along?”
When Tony pats his shoulder and mentions something about getting his coat, Steve feels like he’s been branded for life. The handprint forever burnt into the flesh of his shoulder. His heart is racing before they’ve even left the building, and fortunately the evening embraces them with a cool breeze. Tony walks close by his side, their arms brushing every now and then, and they’ve shared moments more intimate than this before but this is different. It’s Steve’s entire world closing in on itself, and he’s counting the minutes until it implodes.
They have all but entered the bar and Steve’s breath is already hitched. Desperate. And while the music is booming enough to hide the sound, it’s obvious enough from his heaving chest.
The place is already packed with people, and trying to allow any personal space would be ridiculous. As if the universe wants nothing more than set him on this path of life, he can feel Tony standing so close that it physically hurts not to reach out. Not to drape his arms around him and never let go.
Fortunately for Steve, he doesn’t have to make the first move. Tony has always been brave and reckless – those very qualities are what makes him so painfully Tony. So painfully beautiful in the strobe lights, as he turns to Steve with hungry eyes. Without hesitation he grabs Steve’s hand and leads him through the crowd. Two big men pushing their way through an endless sea of 20-somethings, but most of them seem too drunk to actually recognize them. They end up in a corner of the room, and Steve watches Tony closely as he raises glass of scotch – the sipping kind – and throws it back like it’s a gulp of water.
The basement is burning hot. He can see droplets of sweat glittering on Tony’s brow, and he’s been here before. Long ago he gave up counting the times after a mission when he’s wanted nothing more than to reach out and trail his hand along the features of that chiselled face. This time he doesn’t hesitate.
As his fingers trail past the temple and tangles in Tony’s dark curls he breaks the final barrier. The world falls away and Tony pulls at Steve’s shirt like he can’t reach his lips fast enough.
Their first kiss is just as chaotic as the months of anticipation leading up to this moment. Tony is all-consuming, his breath burning scotch and salt. The music sweeps them away, and for the remainder of the show they’re not Steve and Tony. They’re not even part of the world, not really. Their world is one of darkness, of desperation and warmth.
For this brief moment, they share a pulse. Moving with the beat, Steve pushes Tony up against the wall, his hands already beneath his shirt. If this is his moment of weakness, he wants to remember everything. With the same precision he would study and memorize enemy maps, he traces Tony’s chest. With the same dedication that would make him rush back into a burning building, he deepens the kiss. Tony’s biting at his bottom lip while stroking him through the thick fabric of his jeans, and Steve just leans into the touch. It’s certainly not the place for this kind of thing, in the public eye and all, but on the other hand it’s long overdue.
What they’re doing couldn’t be dancing in any sense of the word, but Steve doesn’t go to shows for the music anyway. Sometimes he doesn’t want to be part of the world, and for this moment in time, he’s somewhere else. He’s with Tony, and everything smells so perfectly of motor oil, sweat and expensive cologne. Stolen glances across meeting rooms seem like child’s play in comparison to this.
Steve’s not loyal as much as he’s passionate, and right now he’s burning solely for Tony. It’s brief, not meant to last, yet they leave the bar side by side. A quick good bye outside Tony’s turns into a hug, turns into a kiss, turns into something so dangerous and tangible. They're back in reality, but that in no way makes it easier to let go.
Once he returns home it’s early in the morning. In a few hours he’s supposed to return to the tower for a briefing with the team. Sharon is sleeping soundly in their bedroom, and he can’t bring himself to join her.
In the end he doesn’t sleep at all. Super soldier and all, he goes for a run instead. The first rays of sunlight spread throughout the city while he keeps pushing himself beyond all reason. Some part of him wishes that if he just tries hard enough, he can outrun this.
Because whatever this is; was; whatever just happened; it’s not something that he’ll leave Sharon for. He knows better – knows that the illusion of a new exciting someone will seem attractive in comparison to the routine of a steady relationship. The picture he’s created in his head is a tempting, infuriating smirk and oil slick fingers. Hungry lips that await him like a tranquil lake, and he knows that plunging into the waters will send ripples through his very core. Will leave him wide open and vulnerable.
More than anything he knows better. Not only does he carry the weight of the team and the weight of the world; he’s an adult now. He knows the difference between fleeting crushes and deep connections. Knows how to talk to people he finds attractive, and knows that attraction isn’t always enough. More than anything, he knows that leaving a partner in order to be with someone knew – someone who seems like a better fit, at least on the surface – rarely pans out.
With great power comes great responsibility, and Steve has learned to weather the worst of storms. Even if it pains him, even if it reverberates throughout his entire being with an urgency that leaves him breathless, he’s learned to dedicate himself to the greater good. In this moment, the right thing to do – as it so often tends to be – is for him to take the hit so that others will be spared.
Yet… this is Tony. Tony who slides up next to him after a briefing and hands him a cup of pitch black coffee and a smile sweet enough to counter the bitterness. Tony who pushes him to do better, and validates his efforts. Tony who excitedly brings him into his workshop because he genuinely values Steve’s input and respects his suggestions. Steve has one of the most important, most exhilarating and death defying jobs in the world, but what gets him up in the morning, what gets his heart racing and fills him with absolute dread, is not a “what” but a “who”. It’s Tony, in all his dishevelled, unorganized, obsessive glory.
Steve knows that he should pull back. Should focus on making it through this moment of chaos without losing himself. But knowing and doing is not the same thing, and routine easily transitions into monotony. So when Tony comes to find him late one evening to ask if he wants to go out for a drink; apparently an indie act is playing not far from the tower and it would do both of them good to focus on something else than work, even if but for one evening. Well, that’s when Steve knows that this is not a one-time thing. He knows that this will continue for as long as they allow it, and he knows that they’ll allow it to run wild and grow into something unexpectedly huge.
It’ll be a catastrophe and he’s already in over his head, so he might as well lose himself in the dark – in a pulse that doesn’t quite match his own, but still feels like home.