Work Text:
i.
You will see him crack, at times.
For all of your iron shields, his are the strongest, if only because he’s been broken too many times before and his body post-serum knows better than to break again. But the heart is always the easiest to crack no matter what anyone else likes to say, and he’s always had the biggest heart out of everyone you know, with the biggest target painted on his chest.
Sometimes, you will leave him alone. (You know best that forcefully pushing a person to talk can, at times, lead to more distance. You know, because you’ve been in his place before.)
Other times, you’ll hand him a mug of orange juice, ask him to help you with planning for some contingencies, maybe offer to watch a movie with him revisiting the years that have passed him by. You don’t always expect acceptance for any of your offers, though you certainly hope for it.
More often than not, he’ll say yes.
For the other times, he’ll try to refuse with the lamest excuses even you couldn’t think of, and then eventually say yes due to your sheer stubbornness.
(You would call it kindness to care for him like this, but in truth, it’s selfishness that fuels your need to look after him. Kindness would look for no rewards, and you always look forward to his small smiles whenever you take him along somewhere.)
ii.
Somehow, it has become like this:
Captain America will make his speeches and his plans,
the Avengers will listen (and perhaps offer suggestions while they’re at it),
then they will turn to you for any arguments.
You have, for whatever cause, become the person to consult for any faults or contradictions in Steve’s plans.
(You always make your arguments despite your initial complaints at having to be the devil’s advocate, and everyone- almost everyone- is satisfied, so you really have no room to be annoyed with anyone.)
Surprisingly, though not really, Steve rarely ever (if at all) gets offended whenever you propose an idea opposite his. He will make more of his arguments at times, but in others, he will nod his acceptance, say that you make a valid point, and change the original plan.
(You do not preen, because that’s unbecoming for a man of your stature.
If Clint Barton ever says otherwise, he’s a damn liar.)
iii.
It’s not the first time that you see Steve pre-serum when shit happens on a mission again, but you’d certainly been hoping that there wouldn’t be a second time.
No such luck, obviously, going by the presence of a shorter, thinner, and much angrier Steve Rogers sitting before you in your workshop.
He is quiet as you check on him, all sickly thin and unbelievably paler than usual, though the energy in his skinny body is clear from the way he’s practically vibrating out of his skin. You can’t fault him for his frustration, because why wouldn’t you get angry when you’re shot back into your pre-serum body that seems to exist just to frustrate you and impede your interminable desire to fight against everything that’s trying to destroy your world?
So yeah; Steve is, understandably, frustrated.
You just wish that that was all it was.
You don’t have to look right at him to know that there’s a sense of loss there too, a creeping feeling of overwhelming doubt sliding right into his skin, because while Steve doesn’t necessarily love his post-serum body, the truth remains that he can do his best in the field with it than without it. Hell, even that’s an understatement, because Steve- Captain America before the serum, because you know better than to attribute the Captain’s existence to just his perfect physique- can’t work in the field at all if he’s gone back to his physically frail body.
It’s no wonder that he’s itching to get out of his skin, at this point.
Then Steve lowers his gaze just as you turn to face him again, and you know; he’s going somewhere you’re damn familiar with, because the dark feeling of self-pity has always been at home enough under your skin for you to know how it looks on another person.
“Cap,” you say, and he twitches, looking oddly surprised at the moniker, “you okay?”
“What do you think?” he asks, wry smile tugging at a corner of his lips as he lets himself turn under the guidance of your hands. You give his arm a slow pass under the scanner before moving it up to his shoulders, and he sighs, sounding like he’s just let out a breath he’s been holding since five minutes ago. “This…this doesn’t feel right, Tony. I know that it’s my body, what it would have been without the serum, but…”
“It’s reasonable to be uncomfortable,” you say, squeezing a hand around his elbow so you can catch his gaze with yours. “You haven’t lived with this body for years. Your body post-serum didn’t just experience surface-level changes- it changed everything else inside you too.”
“It’s not even that,” he says, smile falling to make way for a frustrated frown. There’s a moment where he just breathes, as though trying to tame his temper, before he starts to speak again. “It’s when you call me Cap, when I know that this,” he gestures to his entirety, dislodging your hand still resting on his elbow, “that I wouldn’t be fit on the battlefield in my current state. It’s like I’m in the wrong body, when I know that this was how I supposed to be.”
You raise an eyebrow, going for bland disbelief when really, your heart is breaking at the undertone of misery in his voice. You ask, putting on a mildly bewildered front, “You think Captain America is founded on your muscly physique?”
He blinks at that, confused, before coming back with, “No, but-”
“You’re Cap because you’re you, Winghead,” you say, pushing the scanner away so you can let him see that he has your full attention. You smile and he smiles back, though it looks like he’s confused as to why he does it. “A good man, remember? It’s the heart,” you tap him on the chest with the back of a finger, “that makes it work. You wouldn’t be Captain America if all you had were the super strength and muscles.”
He blinks again, eyes looking glassy with what you really hope aren’t tears. He’s quiet for a minute, looking like he’s still processing the words in his head, up until the second he looks up at you with a sure smile and bright eyes. “I,” he begins, voice trailing off for a moment, until he settles with, “thanks, Tony.” His smile brightens even more, somehow, and he reaches out with a hand to squeeze your elbow in the same way you’d done for him just a moment ago. “Really.”
You smile back, because you’re kind of helpless against genuine smiles from Steve Rogers. “Nothing to thank me for, Cap.”
iv.
In other times, when he thinks no one is watching, you will see him looking lost. Glazed over eyes, one hand clasped over the other in an imitation of prayer for a god you’ve never really known, his back hunched over as though he is trying- and yet, at the same time, not- to hide inside his own skin.
It makes something inside you crack, squeezing tight enough to hurt, seeing someone so good look so alone.
(But Steve breaks your heart a lot of the time, so really, it’s not a feeling you’re unfamiliar with.)
You don’t need the computerized files or the confidential documents to realize just why he feels so lost. Who wouldn’t be, having been sent into a time that isn’t his own, in a life without anyone he knows by his side? That he’s so composed still, a leader in the midst of the chaos inside his head; why wouldn’t you admire him even more?
It isn’t out of pity when you offer to take him somewhere, anywhere around the country. He refuses half the time, wanting to be alone as he re-learns what home is- but for the other half, he joins you. He listens to you talk, smiles softly in that way he does whenever you say something particularly witty, and he breathes easier. You know this from: his lowered shoulders, his easy smiles and bright eyes, and the way he doesn’t hesitate to joke back, shoulder nudging against yours as he laughs.
(You’ve deliberately fucked up any chances of getting over him by being so close, but putting any distance between the two of you at this point would be a lost cause.
You know that he’ll just pull you closer, and having that happen would, most likely, break your heart enough to kill you.)
“Thanks for keeping me company,” he would say most times, and you would offer him a bright smile in return with a promise of a next time.
For the others, he would smile at you. You don’t know how to describe it, not being familiar with that kind of expression being turned your way, but it’s…gentle. Warm. It sends a tingle down your spine and a slow-growing warmth in your chest, and it’s nice, and you’re kind of scared to acknowledge what it means for fear of assuming the wrong thing.
But he would always say, “I’m glad you’re here,” and you can’t- you can’t say anything to that. You don’t know what to say to that. So you just nod, feeling somewhat lost yourself as you offer him an awkward smile in return for his gratitude.
He’s got your heart in a vice grip without even knowing it, and you’re not doing anything to pull away.
(Heartbreak is inevitable and it’ll be completely your fault when it happens, but you can’t even bring yourself to regret it.
Who better to fall in and out of love with than Steve Rogers, anyway?)
v.
“Tony?”
“Mm,” Tony hums, distractedly tapping at the hologram in front of him, sending parts of his Iron Man armor flying into tiny and detailed holographic pieces. “Anything you need, Cap?”
“Um,” you hem, putting on the most sheepish smile you can muster as you make your way deeper into his workshop. At the soft sound he looks up, head not turning from its place while his eyes turn their gaze to you. “I’ve got a favor to ask, actually.”
“Yeah?” Tony asks, smile blooming bright on his face as he finally turns away from his project to look at you completely. “What is it?” he asks, looking oddly eager as he turns his chair with him to face you. You can tell that he’s itching to ask more but he’s trying to rein it in- probably having realized that you might change your mind if he pushes too much, which would usually be the right assumption in any other case. Honestly, you’re surprised that he could think that up at this point, considering how he’s been going on without sleep for almost three days now. Evidence of that is rather visible just from the darkened skin under his lower eyelids, and the way that his blue eyes are manic-bright with the adrenaline of second wind.
“I think the AC in my room is broken,” you start to explain, holding back a snicker when Tony’s eyes quickly go into ‘work mode’ at the imaginary problem. “And it’s...you know how it is,” you say, shrugging and smiling helplessly in a way that you hopes communicate “it’s hard to talk about, but you get what I mean, right?”
“Yeah, gotcha,” he says, nodding twice in quick succession as he stands up from his rolling chair. “Guess I didn’t notice JARVIS saying anything all this time. Sorry about that,” Tony says, smile half-apologetic and half-weary with lack of sleep as he passes by you with a quick clap of a hand to your shoulder. “JARVIS, save all of the data and keep them on sleep mode for until I get back,” he calls behind him into the workshop, before continuing forward into the elevator and to your floor. He babbles the whole way, “You could borrow one of the guest rooms for a while if this takes too long, which it probably won’t since it’s just the AC and it’s probably just an error in the coding, which is strange to be honest since I made these things to be durable and the possibility of someone hacking the AC is just ridic-”
“Actually,” you interrupt, clearing your throat when Tony turns mid-step to blink at you, “I’m kind of exhausted. It might take too long if you try to fix it now, and I’m not really comfortable with sleeping in unfamiliar places, so…”
He stares in bemusement, and you pluck up your courage as you say, “I was thinking you could share the bed with me? Just for tonight.” You shrug slightly. “Body heat, you know.”
“Body heat,” he parrots, expression slowly growing bewildered, starting from the furrow of his brows until it finishes with his tight frown. Again, in a questioning tone, he says, “Body heat?”
“You can be the little spoon,” you offer solemnly, only the upward twitch of your lips letting on that you’re messing with him.
Almost immediately, his expression transforms from bewilderment to admiration mixed with understanding, which you can tell is saying, “I’m kind of irritated that you fooled me, but damn, I’m still proud that you managed it so well.”
“That’s sneaky of you, soldier,” he says, sleepy grin gracing his lips as he regards you with both of his arms folded over his chest. You think he’s trying to look authoritative, but mostly it just makes him look like he’s trying his best to look awake while half-falling asleep on his feet. He says teasingly, “Gonna take advantage of me after who knows how many days of no sleep? Shame on you.”
“Hey, my intentions are completely pure,” you retort with hands raised in mock-surrender, grinning right back when all he does is laugh at you. “A sleeping buddy, that’s it. It’ll be fun.”
“Oh sure, you can say that after I wake up suffocating under your muscles in the morning,” he says, though he continues heading for your bedroom anyway. Then, after a pause for silence, he turns back to look at you with gleaming eyes and a mirthful smile. “Do you usually do this when you’re feeling cold? Just pull the closest person into your bedroom and say, “Sleep with me?” I didn’t think you’d be so forward.”
You shrug in response. “Gotta be, when my best guy tends to forget what sleep is for.” Then, with a small smile, you add, “And I’d only do this with him.”
“You better, mister,” he says with a mock-scolding wag of his finger in your direction. “I expect to be the only other person allowed in your bed. And if I’m not you better inform me, because I don’t want to miss any of the action.”
You roll your eyes at the vulgar insinuation, though the upward quirk of the corners of your lips does nothing to hide your amusement with him. “Yes, well,” you quietly charge forward to swing him up into your arms, the action not that much of a feat with your super strength, “I’m not letting anyone else sleep with me unless it’s you, Shellhead.” You grin brightly when he fails to stifle a surprised squawk at the sudden change in position. With a smirk, you say, “So, bed?”
“You are such a caveman, I don’t even know where to begin with you,” he groans, slumping right into your arms like a puppet with his strings cut. You can only grin in response, because getting Tony to sleep is looking to be a far easier task than you’d thought it would be.
If you knew that pretending to be cold in your bed would be the thing to get him running to sleep, you’d have done this much sooner.
You settle him gently into your bed once you get there, smiling softly in amusement when he immediately makes himself at home under the covers, arms stretching out and back arching for a moment to work out the kinks in his body. Once he’s done stretching, with eyes half-lidded from sleepiness and quiet affection, he says, “And here I thought we were going for a Stone Age feel. No throwing me down onto the sheets? That’s kind of important to complete the scene, Rogers.”
“I’ll do that when you’re less loopy from sleep deprivation,” you promise, grinning bright and wide when his eyes widen for a flicker of a second before going half-lidded in intrigue again. “For now,” you begin, stripping out of your shirt just as you slip into the covers with him, “I’d like to supply my best guy with his well-missed cuddles.”
He laughs before you can even finish talking, probably having predicted all too easily just what it was you were going to say. “Yeah, sure, I’m the one who really needs the cuddles,” he drawls, smile soft and sweet despite the mocking words as he opens his arms to you. You take the offer without hesitation, enveloping your own arms around him- left arm going under his head while the right rests around his waist- and squeezing him close for a blink of a second before loosening the hold around him. Then he says, tone dripping with pure amusement as he shifts to fit his head under your chin, “It’s sweet how you think I didn’t get you figured out earlier, but it’s also mildly offensive. Genius, remember? I don’t miss things.”
“And you didn’t miss the cuddles, sure,” you concede with a tone of gentle understanding, as you would use on a child too stubborn to listen to your point. Tony seems to get that from the offended huff of breath he makes against your chest, though he does nothing in retaliation. You smile, pressing a drawn-out kiss to his hair as you squeeze around him gently. You say, “I knew you’d figure it out quickly. You’re not dumb, Tony. I was just hoping you wouldn't find out quickly enough to be able to run away.”
“You succeeded, so congratulations to you, Cap,” he says, breath warm on your bare skin as he none too surreptitiously snuggles closer. You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but your body succumbing to the vibrations of held in laughter doesn’t hide it well. Tony only laughs out loud, not hesitating at all as he more obviously shifts closer to settle in the warmth of your arms. “Mm,” he hums in satisfaction, “you’re a good replacement for a furnace, though.”
“Thanks,” you say wryly, smiling as you nuzzle your nose into the mess of his locks. “So glad to be of some use, dear.”
He giggles (much as he’d like to deny it, you know it’s a giggle), sleepy and sated and warm in your embrace. Your stomach does a little somersault at how comfortable he is, how comfortable he feels in your arms, and you can’t help from murmuring into the crown of his head, “Love you.”
His laughter fades into a soft hum at your words, his arm squeezing around your waist with his other arm pressing close to your chest. You don’t have to look to know that he’s smiling softly in that way he often tries to hide, not out of embarrassment as it is out of a natural tendency to be subtle with his affectionate expressions. He murmurs, body warm against yours and lips pressing a kiss to the skin of your chest, “Love you too, Steve.”
You press another kiss to his hair, smiling with eyes shut in tranquil pleasure.
This- Tony in your arms, Tony in your life, Tony choosing to stay by your side- is more than enough to keep you happy for this lifetime, and perhaps for longer than that.
He’s more than enough, and you honestly couldn’t be happier.