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“You asked Captain America to move in with you,” Pepper says, pressing her fingers to her temple. “What were you thinking?”
“Pep, come on, nazis blew up his apartment,” Tony says. “Have a heart."
“I have a heart,” Pepper says. “I also have a brain. Why didn’t you just offer to put him up in a hotel until he can find somewhere?”
“He would’ve said no,” Tony says, waving a hand. “He would’ve seen it as too generous or too wasteful or something. Crashing on a friend’s couch is a time honored tradition, though. Dating back to… sometime before the 40s, I guess.”
“Crashing on a friend’s couch? Tony, is that or is that not a hologram of one of the guest floors that you’re currently in the process of testing star spangled designer drapes on?”
“You think stripes would be better?” Tony asks, pulling the catalogue back up at his side. “Look, what are you even so worried about? It’s only for a few weeks, and he’ll be on his own floor. Shouldn’t you be excited that there’ll be a responsible adult around to have a good influence on me when you’re busy running my company?”
“First of all, I’ve met Steve,” Pepper says. “He’s lovely, and he’s certainly more of an adult than you are, but I think we both know that ‘responsible’ is a slight exaggeration. Second of all, I’m sorry, are we talking about the same Captain America you’ve had a crush on since you were eight, or is there a new Steve Rogers in town that I haven’t heard about? Because I don’t foresee any good influence coming from having him sleeping in your home.”
“I don’t think I would call it a crush,” Tony says, slowly.
“All-consuming obsession, then? Tony, I have photos from Vegas. You sent them to me.”
“Oh, come on, I got drunk and made out with a Captain America impersonator one time--”
“Six times.”
“Well, all six of those times were before I knew the guy.”
“Yes, Tony. Now, instead of having to watch you make out with every street performer with a red, white, and blue shield, I have to watch you pine.”
“I don’t pine,” Tony says. “Yes, okay, maybe I used to have a small crush on Captain America, but Steve Rogers is my friend. And friends help friends out when nazis blow up their apartments.”
Pepper sighs. “This is a terrible idea, Tony.”
“This is a wonderful idea, Pepper. Help me pick out a shower curtain.”
*
Steve makes the sort of sound one might expect to hear from a strangled cat when the elevator doors slide open, which Tony takes to mean that his first real foray into interior design was a complete and unqualified success. Hulk-proofing doesn’t count.
“How much did you spend on this?” Steve asks.
“Don’t know what you mean, Cap. It came like this,” Tony says, shoving at Steve’s back.
The strangled cat in Steve’s throat transforms into a dying whale, but Steve does allow himself to be propelled from the elevator. He has one suitcase and a single duffle bag with him. Tony’s not sure if that’s because all his stuff went boom with his apartment, or if Steve just didn’t have many belongings to begin with. Either way, Tony quietly resolves to buy him things.
Later, though. Steve needs to be eased into the world of materialism.
“Tony, please tell me this is a recreation,” Steve says from the bedroom.
“I could never lie to you, Steven,” Tony says, casting one more satisfied look around the living room before heading for the bedroom. “What are we talking about, exactly?”
*
Steve and Tony don’t actually see all that much of each other once Steve moves in. Steve’s out a lot, Tony’s in his lab a lot, and they are both on separate floors. See, Pepper? Nothing to worry about.
They do run across each other sometimes. Usually in the kitchen or the gym. The kitchen often leads to some pleasant conversation, and they’ve even ended up sharing a couple meals, but Tony’s found that he can’t stay in the gym very long if Steve’s in there. It’s bad for his ego.
Or something.
Anyway, Tony feels good about this arrangement for about a week, and then he finishes his latest project and gets bored. Or he’s lonely, because Bruce has been saving the world in South America for a month and a half, and Rhodey and Pepper are both swamped with their respective jobs, and he doesn’t really feel like it’d be courteous to Steve to host any massive, tower-rocking parties while he’s staying here.
Or something.
Tony tries to distract himself with the internet, but the problem with being Tony Stark on the internet is that it’s impossible not to see people talking about how much they hate you. It’s usually not a problem, but today is one of those shitty days when it kind of is. It takes Tony about two hours to realize he’s actually allowed to shut his laptop, and, when he does, he throws it across the room for good measure.
The thing’s practically indestructible, it’s fine. The wall’s more likely to get hurt than the laptop.
Tony buries his face in the couch cushions and moans.
Tony lies there for who-knows-how-long, channeling his inner-Eeyore, until Steve clears his throat from the hallway, and Tony scrambles to try to look less pathetic and just ends up falling off the couch.
“Are you alright?” Steve asks, stepping forward with his hands outstretched.
“Fine, I’m fine,” Tony says, pushing himself up so his back is against the couch, waving off Steve’s half-offer of assistance. “Sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair. “What’s up?”
“Oh. Well, I’ve been kind of neglecting my crash course in pop culture lately,” Steve says, holding up a notebook and offering a slight smile. “I’ve heard many, many times that you’re the man to see about Star Trek, so I thought, you know, maybe we could watch some? If you’re not busy.”
Tony stares at Steve for a full five seconds before levering himself back onto the couch and shifting to make room for Steve beside him. Steve beams and takes the seat while Tony calls the TV to order.
“I know JARVIS asked you to come up,” Tony says, hugging his knees to his chest as the copyright notice flashes on the screen. “You two aren’t fooling anyone.”
“No idea what you mean,” Steve says.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Steve settles into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him and throwing an arm across the back of the couch, over Tony’s shoulders. “Be quiet,” he says. “The show’s starting.”
*
Movie nights become a regular thing, and shared meals eventually become less a matter of happenstance and more one of routine, and Steve starts spending more and more time on Tony’s floor until he just sort of starts bringing some things up from his room so that he doesn’t have to make as many trips back down, and Tony is too busy being happy about everything to actually notice anything.
At least until one day when he’s laying over Steve like a blanket as they idly flip through channels on the television and the door swings open.
That brings things pretty sharply into focus.
Tony’s cuddling Captain America. Oh god. Oh shit. Oh fuck.
“Should I... come back later?” Bruce asks. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and he looks totally exhausted. His flight must have just gotten in, and he came straight to Tony’s living room without even stopping to drop off his bag. Tony should have picked him up from the airport. Bruce had turned him down when he’d offered, but Tony should have done it anyway.
Better yet, Bruce should have taken the private jet. Honestly, what was the point of money if his friends wouldn’t let him spoil them?
“No, no,” Steve says, disentangling himself from Tony. God, shit, fuck. Tony had meant to do that ages ago, but instead he’d done his best impression of a deer in headlights. “I’ll let you two catch up,” Steve says, clapping Bruce on the shoulder on his way to the door. “Welcome home, Bruce.”
“Thanks, Steve,” Bruce says. “You don’t have to leave.”
“It’s alright,” Steve says, waving a hand. “I’ve got... things.”
Blatant lie, but Bruce nods and steps aside to let Steve go. When Steve’s safely down the hallway, Bruce turns back to Tony, raising his eyebrows.
Tony should probably say something, but he’s not sure what that something should be, so he just rearranges himself to make room for Bruce on the couch instead. Bruce lets his bag fall to the floor and takes the offered seating, curling into Tony’s space. Tony puts an arm around him, pulling him closer.
“Something you want to tell me?” Bruce asks, his head resting against Tony’s chest.
“Yes, actually. You’re a terrible person who has completely desensitized me to the awkwardness of cuddling housemates and now Captain America probably thinks I’m horrible.”
“He didn’t seem to mind,” Bruce says. “When did that happen?”
“He’s probably super creeped out but too nice to say anything. And I told you he was moving in.”
“You told me you were putting him up for a few nights while he looked for a new place,” Bruce says. “There was no mention of intent to woo.”
“I didn’t woo! There was no wooing!”
“Then he wooed you.”
“He did not,” Tony says. “Steve is just a good friend who is generous enough to let me use him as a pillow sometimes.”
There’s a knock at the door. Tony half-expects Bruce to move, but apparently Bruce isn’t feeling that. Ah, well. Tony’s tactile with the people he’s close to, this shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone at this point. “Come in,” he calls.
Steve opens the door and glances at them. “Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I just need to grab my toothbrush.”
“You really can stay,” Bruce says, yawning.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve says.
Steve gets his toothbrush, everyone says goodnight, and Steve leaves.
“Just a good friend,” Bruce says, voice slightly muffled against Tony’s shirt.
“Shut up, Banner, like you have any room to talk.”
*
When Bruce and Tony wake up the next day from their knot of limbs and pillows on the couch, they argue about Steve. Because Bruce is a traitor, yet more insinuations about Tony's "crush" are thrown around, and so are some accusations about Tony being seriously the most oblivious person in the world when it comes to emotions, Tony, god. It's all pretty rude, in Tony's opinion, and anyway even if these allegations were true, there's still a significant risk of heartbreak, which makes it a totally irresponsible prescription given Tony's medical history, Dr. Banner, do you not see the arc reactor? It goes on like this until Bruce says he’s going to the kitchen and stomps out of the room.
Tony lets Bruce leave and doesn’t go looking for him when he doesn’t come back because, you know, stomping. Tony loves the Hulk and all, but he still knows when to give Bruce some space.
After somewhere in the area of half an hour, Steve enters the room. He doesn’t knock. Tony is noticing a trend that when he is alone, or believed to be alone, people do not knock. Boundaries, what boundaries?
Eh, whatever. Tony’s actually pretty okay with it.
“So,” Steve says, taking the armchair instead of sitting beside Tony on the couch, catching Tony’s gaze and determinedly locking him into the eye-contact. Yikes. “I have been firmly instructed to inform you that we are dating.”
Damn it, Bruce.
“I do I feel I should admit that yesterday I still had no idea that we were basically, you know, together,” Steve continues, “but now that it’s been brought to my attention, I’m not sure I can really ignore it. So. What are your feelings on this?”
Tony does his best not to squirm under the intensity of Steve’s very blue eyes. “Um. Most of my feelings on this are pretty embarrassing and gay,” Tony says. “What are your feelings on this?”
“About the same.”
Tony mulls that over, then shrugs. “Cool.”
Steve comes over to the couch and drops his head against Tony’s shoulder. “What’s on TV?”
“Nothing good,” Tony says. “We should go out.”
Steve hums. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Wherever you want. But if it’s somewhere public enough that someone gets a picture of us making gooey eyes at each other and it makes the tabloids, it’ll help me prove a point to Pepper about how all of my ideas are great and I’ve never made a bad decision.”
“You know, I actually have a similar point to prove to Natasha,” Steve says.
*
It’s a picture of them kissing, and it makes the New York Times. Nat and Pep are both eerily silent on the matter, but Bruce gets the paper framed and hangs it in Tony’s living room.