Chapter Text
I t had been a few days, but finally Steve had been released from the care of SHEILD medical and was back at the tower. He hadn’t been living there for too long, but already it felt a lot more like home than his old apartment ever did. Released as he was, unfortunately he wasn’t yet fighting fit, and remained off duty for another few days.
He glanced at the wheelchair sitting patiently beside the couch and frowned. He was out of his neck cast and could walk but was under strict orders to use the chair for any distance—just as a precaution. No running, no heavy lifting. No fun , Steve thought, but at least it won’t be for much longer . Frankly, the medics were being too cautious, and he knew he was capable of more than they thought. His healing factor was nothing short of a miracle. But that was the guidance, and he would follow it. Unless another city—or even world—threatening event happened. Then the gloves were off.
Steve’s eyes moved from the wheelchair to the coffee table in front of him, and on top of it, the beautiful bouquet of flowers that adorned it. His mouth lifted in a smile. They were the flowers Tony had bought him.
He didn’t need to look in a mirror to know his cheeks and the tops of his ears had gone pink. Tony. Tony Stark. Had bought him flowers. Sure, it was probably something Tony did for everyone who was in a bad way, but there was something about it that made Steve’s heart sing. The flowers were resplendent, clearly very expensive, and Steve remembered the rambling Tony had done at the time.
“ You don’t think the calla lilies are a bit too much? ”
They weren’t just flowers grabbed at the last minute, they were a carefully thought out gift from one person to another. And then there was the chocolate, another gift given on another visit to the hospital that Tony hadn’t had to make. The man was busy doing a thousand and one things outside of being Iron Man. Despite what Steve had once claimed, he was more than just a suit.
A frown creased between his fair eyebrows. He’d said a lot of things he didn’t mean. But he and Tony had agreed to try again. His brow smoothed. They could make it work. They could be friends.
But you want more than that, don’t you, Steve?
He slumped down on the couch, his neck straining in a way that made him sit up again immediately. Note to self: no slouching , he thought.
The voice in his head went on.
You want Tony, it continued. You want the flowers to mean more than they do. You want it to be romantic. You’re a queer, Rogers .
He shook off the slur, but the action once more tweaked his neck. This time he hissed and brought a hand up to rub at the pain. It might be time for some relief.
Steve reached out for the wheelchair, this time using his words to shake off the archaic language.
“I thought it was the wrong way to talk then, and I think it’s the wrong way to talk now,” he said as he transferred from couch to chair. “I’m not an anything. I’m just me.”
The voice was right about one thing, however. He did want Tony. He did want the flowers to mean more than they did.
“So what?” he said as he wheeled his way towards the bathroom where his little pack of pain relief now sat. “Maybe I do want all that. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be, I don’t know, pursued. Courted.”
He pushed the wheels and skirted through the bathroom door, then reached for the pills. Still strong enough for super soldier relief, but not as much as the shots in the hospital. Those had sent him loopy.
Popping a pill from its blister pack, he sighed. He’d always had certain ideas in his head about romance, things that he wanted to do for others—and things he wanted done for him. There was something about being held in high regard by someone else that sent his nerves shivering. Steve reached for a glass, filled it with water, and slipped the pill into his mouth. There was no doubting it. He wanted to be old-fashioned, to be courted by Tony Stark. But that was never going to happen.
With another sigh, he reversed out of the bathroom and headed back to the couch. It was time to get his mind off such fantasies, he knew. He knew a lot of things, and the gurgle of his stomach told him something he hadn’t realised. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time for dinner, but he hadn’t a thing prepared.
As he transferred back from chair to couch, his head spun. The pill was hitting. Soon the pain in his neck would be gone, and he would be half-way to La La Land.
“I probably should’ve figured out the food situation before I took that medication,” he said. He sank down on the couch as the world spun at a slight tilt. “Oh well.”
Giving in to the meds, he slid onto one side and curled his legs. Oh well indeed.
*
“...?”
Steve shifted a little at the sound of something indistinct.
“...!”
The noise became more insistent, and it felt a little as if something was touching his shoulder. But only a little. Mostly what he felt was nothing at all.
“--Steve!”
The something on his shoulder squeezed a little more, and that was definitely his name. Maybe he should react?
“Steve, c’mon, Sleeping Beauty.”
“T-Tony?”
Awareness came back to him not all at once, but in drips. It was definitely Tony’s voice. Might have been Tony’s touch, but really who knew? The couch sure had gotten hard all of a sudden. Something was strange about the whole debacle.
“Steve, you’ve got to open those baby blues for me.”
Did he? If Tony said so, he supposed he might as well. Steve blinked against lights that felt too bright but managed to crack open one eye, then the other.
“Thatta boy. Easy now. Don’t move just yet.”
“Tony,” Steve said as more awareness dripped in. “Where am I?”
“You’re in your room in the tower, Slugger.”
“Why’s the couch so hard?”
Tony seemed to allow himself a quiet chuckle. “That’s not the couch, my friend. That’s the floor you’re lying on.”
“The floor? How’d I end up on the floor?” Even to himself, his voice sounded dopey.
“Well, I don’t know, friend,” Tony replied. “One minute I’m about to order Thai food and the next JARVIS is telling me you’re like a turtle and you can’t get up.”
“I can get up,” Steve said, but his body made no effort to cash the cheque his mouth had written.
“Uh huh. Well, just take it nice and slow, big guy. We don’t want to do any more damage to that neck of yours.”
“Neck?” Steve asked. Thoughts poked at the periphery of his memory. Oh yeah, the neck thing. The injured thing. The meds.
Ah. Hence being on the floor. He must’ve rolled off the couch.
“Do you want to try and sit?” Tony asked.
“I guess,” Steve replied.
Strong hands slipped under his arms. With Herculean effort, Steve managed to right himself, Tony’s touch reassuring. He blinked a few times, reality swirling around him.
“Alright, just sit there for a minute,” Tony said. His voice was astoundingly beautiful in the otherwise silent apartment. “We’ll take our time. We’ve got all evening. Are you in pain?”
Steve reached up to touch his neck, feeling a twinge but nothing much more. “Not really.”
“That’s because you’re still on the good stuff,” Tony replied. “At least I assume that’s why you decided to take a swan dive onto the floor.”
Steve gave the slightest of chuckles. “I didn’t exactly mean to, no.”
Tony smiled down at him, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Are you up for trying to get on the couch now?”
“I think so.”
Together they manoeuvred Steve’s back against the couch, then levered him up onto the cushions. Steve’s legs felt like noodles and his head swam again as he backed himself against the couch cushions. Tony slid onto the seat beside him, and Steve couldn’t help but feel bereft at the lack of touch.
“Thanks, Tony. And sorry I ruined your dinner plans,” he said, closing his eyes. “Note to self: no more pain meds.”
“Ruined my ass,” Tony replied. “And no more pain meds my ass too. If you need them, take them. Just maybe lie somewhere you’re not going to roll off of.”
Like bed, Steve thought. Stars danced behind his closed eyelids. Bed would be nice. Bed with Tony would be nicer… He drew in a slow breath and let it out again, grappling for a little control. Now was not the time for that.
In the silence of the room, something gurgled. It took Steve a minute to realise it was his own stomach.
“Speaking of dinner plans,” Tony said, a smile colouring his words.
Steve let himself grin and touched a hand to his abdomen. “I was hungry earlier before I fell asleep, and fell on the floor. It hasn’t gotten any better.”
“You like Thai food?” Tony asked.