Chapter Text
“I’m throwing a Christmas Party.”
Steve Rogers glanced up from his tablet and coffee to see Tony Stark standing in the middle of the Chimera’s kitchen, his own tablet in hand, and wearing an expression that could only be described as determined mania - not terribly uncommon on the billionaire’s face, but certainly concerning given the current context.
“Good morning to you, too” Natasha Romanoff called from her spot next to Steve. She didn’t even look up from her book, but Steve could see the mirth in her own expression.
“Morning,” Tony corrected quickly but then continued: “Christmas party. One week from today.” The brunet swiped at his tablet, and a holographic display popped up to dance around in the air surrounding Tony. “I’ve got the timeline all worked out. It’s ambitious but completely doable if we all can commit.”
Bruce paused in the middle of pouring at his smoothie, which he’d been more focused on than the current discussion but now looked skeptical. “One week? Tony, that’s - “
“Completely reasonable,” Tony assured again, not even hesitating to interrupt the other scientist. “I’ve done more with less time. You guys remember the soiree for the Senators we threw - “
“I remember you having a breakdown in the middle of that soiree. You tried to buy out Senator McConnell’s entire campaign.” Bruce didn’t hesitate with his own interruption, his tone now much more amused than concerned.
“That was unrelated.” Tony waved a hand dismissively. “This is different. This is Christmas. This is important.”
Steve studied him for a few moments. They’d been living on the Chimera for quite some time now, now that it was all fixed up and SHIELD had vacated it in favor of encouraging the Avengers to operate as their own entity again. Steve hadn’t been anywhere else since returning to Earth, uncertain where he would have gone anyway. Now it had been weeks since they’d defeated MODOK, and it was long enough for Steve to recognize the patterns in Tony’s behavior again. The way he threw himself into projects when he was trying to outrun something - usually his own feelings of failure. The way he filled silence with plans and noise and movement so that he didn’t have to hear his own thoughts.
But this felt different. A little more purposeful. Almost - almost like he was reaching for something instead of running this time.
“What brought this on?” Steve asked, fully setting down his tablet and coffee so he could give Tony his full attention on this.
Tony’s eyes met his for just a moment before they darted away, looking to the others in the room. “Do I need a reason to want to celebrate? We saved the world, again. We’re heroes again. We’ve earned something good, I think.”
Thor emerged from around the corner, carrying an entire box of Poptarts that he was clearly intending to fully put away in his own stomach. Steve wasn’t sure when those had been restocked, but he’d spotted Thor grinning with absolute delight after discovering them in the commissary sometime last week. “A Midgardian Christmas, you say?” he called as he joined them fully. “I would be honored to assist with these preparations! What tasks might you assign that require the strength and skill of Asgard, Stark?”
“Lifting,” Tony replied easily. “Lots of lifting.” But his face was brightening with something like hope, and Steve couldn’t help but feel more confident himself. “We’re getting a fifteen-foot tree delivered tomorrow. It’s going to need to be positioned in the hangar bay, and the drones can only do so much on their own.”
“A worthy challenge!” Thor agreed heartily, the declaration through a mouthful of strawberry pastry.
Natasha finally set down her book and gave Tony an assessing look. “You think you can do this in one week? Tony, it’s already the 18th.”
“Yes, I’m aware of the date, thanks.” Tony pursed his lips at her, but she continued undaunted.
“A week. To decorate the entire helicarrier, buy gifts, prepare meals - “
“Again, aware of the timeline. The math checks out.” Tony pulled up a new hologram. “I’ve got a whole schedule already set up. Everybody gets their own assignments based on your skillset and availability - I’ve checked. It’ll be totally fine.”
Natasha looked like she was considering, but didn’t argue any further.
“It’ll be chaos,” Bruce muttered, but even he didn’t look like he was going to say no.
“Organized chaos,” Tony corrected. “The best kind. The kind we’re best at. So who’s in?”
Steve looked around the commissary. Bruce was clearly trying to hide his excitement but failing. Natasha looked pensive but offered no further issues, which was as good as an agreement from her. Thor was already nodding enthusiastically, eyes scanning the schedule Tony still had pulled up.
They’d been through so much together these past few months. The trauma of A-Day still sat heavy on everybody. And then the trial, the disbanding, the five years the others had spent scattered and broken. Bruce’s testimony that they were too dangerous. Tony losing Stark Industries. Natasha going dark on all of them. Thor’s abandonment of his title, of Mjolnir. All of them losing contact, abandoning each other because they hadn’t known how to reconcile or stay.
But they had found their way back. Had fought together against MODOK, had chosen, however tentatively and carefully, to be a team again.
Maybe Tony was right. Maybe they had actually earned something good.
“I’m in,” Steve offered finally.
“Yeah?” Tony asked. He looked almost afraid to find out, hope lighting up his expression but covered in that distinct fear of being rejected.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed quickly. “What do you need me to do?”
___
The tree arrived the next day, on the 19th. It was a massive noble fir that took Steve, Thor, Iron Man, and two maintenance drones an hour to maneuver it into the hangar bay to set it up. Tony mostly supervised from the air, directly them like a conductor with a very tall, very heavy orchestra.
“Left,” he called, the usual Iron Man headset missing in lieu of the brunet getting the best view of the tree’s angles. “No, your other left. Thor, stop - okay, that’s good. Hold it right there.”
Steve was bracing the trunk of the tree while Thor held it steady from above, both of their grips tight on sap and bark and needles that thankfully we’re falling off yet. Steve’s muscles strained with the effort, but it felt good. Productive. Like he was building something for once instead of destroying it. And it had been a long time.
“How’s this?” he called, though it was mostly through the grit of his teeth as he strained to hold the trunk still.
Tony circled the tree above him, expression calculating as he checked all the angle. “Three inches to the right. My right, not yours.”
They adjusted, then adjusted again. Tony made them do it four more times before he was satisfied, and Steve was sweating a little by the time they had it fully in its stand. But the tree was finally in position - perfectly centered in the hangar, top boughs almost reaching the ceiling, and Steve had to admit that the work had been worth it. The tree was impressive and beautiful.
“It’s a good tree, Tony,” he noted, hands on his hips as he assessed and tried not to look at Tony landing next to him.
“It’s a perfect tree,” Tony corrected, though he was already pulling up the next item on the checklist. “Lights are next. We can start stringing them now - I ordered ten thousand feet and had them delivered last night.”
“Lights now?” Thor verified, looking down at his hands. Like Steve’s they were covered in sap and pine needles from all the tugging.
“Strike while the iron’s hot, big guy,” Tony explained, “Or at least while the tree is vertical. Whatever floats your boat.” He was already moving towards the stacks of boxes Steve hadn’t noticed amongst the other junk in the hangar. “Come on, we’re burning daylight here and I want this place lit up with Christmas Magic before it gets dark.”
Steve exchanged a look with Thor, but the Asgardian shrugged, still cheerful enough. “Stark is quite passionate about his decoration vegetation,” he offered by way of explanation.
“It’s not just vegetation!” Tony called back, but his face was half buried in the boxes upon boxes of lights. “It’s a statement. Tradition. It’s - look, are you two going to help or are you going to stand there judging my life choices?”
“Helping,” Steve called, finally moving to help Tony with the tangles that were already forming. “Definitely helping.”
___
By that evening, Steve found himself on a ladder in the hangar bay, stringing lights while Tony had once again returned to mostly giving directions from around the tree and Thor had disappeared after being fired for being careless with the layout.
“Higher on that branch,” the brunet called. “No, the other once. The thick one - yes, that one.”
Steve pursed his lips, but wrapped the strand in his hands carefully around the branch Tony was referencing. “You’re very particular about this,” he noted.
“It’s worth being particular about,” was Tony’s response. He landed this time, pulling out another strand and beginning to untangle it, movements quick and focused even through the gauntlets. “We’re only doing this once. Might as well do it right.”
“You don’t think we’ll do it again?” Steve asked earnestly as he climbed down the ladder to move it to the next location. The hangar was quiet except for the soft hums of the engines and the usual sounds of the Chimera simply existing. He rustled some branches as he moved and admired the sound and the gentle smell of pine. It was peaceful, in a way. Just the two of them and the tree and the growing web of glowing lights. Something about it felt almost like it had before everything, and Steve was almost afraid of letting go.
“I don’t know,” Tony replied noncommittally, but there was a hesitance about it that belied the billionaire’s anxiety about all of it. Steve realized with a start that this wasn’t something they had ever really done before, not to this scale. And Tony clearly didn’t know if they’d be available to do it again. The realization felt tight in his chest.
“When did you last do this?” the blond asked, gently redirecting the conversation to something hopefully a little lighter. “Decorate for Christmas, I mean.”
Tony remained quiet for a moment more. “Not since I was a kid,” he finally replied. “My dad wasn’t big on holidays. Too busy. We had decorations and a tree, but it was all done for us by the staff. My mother was the only one who ever wanted to spend the time together.”
“What about after?” Steve pressed, “When you were older?”
This time Tony shrugged. “Traveling, mostly. Spent Christmas in different countries, usually somewhere that was warmer and didn’t demand much in terms of holiday spirit. I was avoiding the whole thing, mostly.” He handed him the untangled string of lights, but a small smile crossed his lips. “This is definitely better.”
That warmed the cool dread that had been building in Steve, and he smiled back. “Yeah?”
Tony’s smile grew just a little wider. “Yeah.” He turned his attention to the tree and the lights they’d already strung up. “This is… it’s nice. Doing it with people you care about. Who care about you.”
Steve’s chest still felt tight, but he swallowed it down. The way Tony said it - so simple, so honest - made Steve want to tell him the truth. Want to say that he truly cared, that he’d always cared, that he’d been carrying feelings since before A-Day. And that they’d only grown stronger in the months since he’d returned to the team.
But Tony was already moving again, pulling out the next strand of tangled lights with a curse, and the moment slipped past.
Steve coughed gently, and climbed back up the ladder to continue working.
___
The 20th was a flurry of activity. Natasha coordinated the decoration of the common spaces with military precision, directing Steve and Bruce as they hung garlands and wreaths and banners. Bruce helped Tony finalize a menu, oftentimes talking him down from from some of the more elaborate ideas.
“We don’t need seven types of potatoes, Tony,” he’d offered at one point.
The billionaire had looked positively scandalized. “But what if somebody has strong feelings about potatoes?”
But Bruce was patient and calm. “Then they can have two types, like every other normal person.”
Steve found himself paired with Tony more often than not - holding things in place while Tony adjusted them, carrying boxes while Tony checked his lists, standing on chairs to reach high places while Tony directed him from below.
“A little to the left,” Tony called, watching Steve hang a wreath in the corridor. It was becoming a phrase he was intimately familiar with, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be unhappy with it. “No, too far. Back to the right - there. Perfect.”
The super soldier stepped down from the chair. They were standing close in the narrowness of the corridor, and he was suddenly very aware of it the heat radiating off the other man, could see the different shades of brown of his eyes, could smell the coffee that always seemed to cling to him.
“Tony,” Steve started.
“JARVIS, add cranberry sauce to the shopping list,” Tony offered instead, already pulling out the tablet again like he hadn’t even heard Steve. “I can’t believe I almost forgot cranberry sauce. Who even does that?”
He was moving past Steve, too, head back towards the commissary and mind already clearly on a hundred other tasks.
Steve sighed and let him go.
___
And the 21st brought more of the same.
They worked together to string lights in the common areas - tiny white ones that Bruce commented made the space feel cozy, and that JARVIS had commented made him feel quite pretty, much to Tony’s chagrin. Thor helped position the larger decorations, his strength making quick work of giant ornaments, decorative topiaries, and other greenery and decorations that would have taken the others much longer. Natasha relaxed during this time, providing commentary and occasionally pointing out when things looked crooked.
“You’re enjoying this,” Steve observed after she’d directed him to correcting the angle of a garland before taking over the task herself.
“Someone has to make sure it doesn’t look like a craft store exploded,” she offered by way of explanation. “Tony has enthusiasm but the eye of a bachelor.” But she was smiling, and Steve couldn’t help grinning back.
“Still,” Natasha continued. “He’s putting a lot of effort into this.” Steve nodded, but the redhead continued on. “It’s good for him. He’s been better the past week. More focused. Less…” and she gestured vaguely.
“Less frantic,” Steve supplied.
She nodded. “This is still frantic, but in a different way. A better way.” And Steve knew what she meant. Tony had ben working himself too hard since Steve had returned - throwing himself into projects, not sleeping well, filling every silence with noise. But this was different. This had a purpose beyond just keeping busy, keeping everything else at bay. “He’s doing this for you, you know,” Natasha added after a moment.
Steve nearly dropped the garland he was still holding. “What?”
“The Christmas thing. It’s for all of us, but mostly for you.” She gave him a knowing look and gently took the garland from his hands. “You lost five years, Steve. He’s trying to give you something back.”
Steve’s throat felt like a lump had formed. “Nat - “
“I’m not blind, Rogers. And neither is Bruce. We see the way you look at him. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching.” She moved to the next door frame, focusing on the garland she’d taken from Steve. “Are you planning to do anything about it, or are you both going to keep dancing around each other?”
“I don’t - “ Steve stopped, considered his words, and started again. “I want to. But I don’t want to make things complicated. We’re still rebuilding as a team.”
“We are,” Natasha agreed, “But you’re also wasting time. You know this, and you of all people should know how precious that is.”
She was right. He’d lost five years that he’d never get back. And now tat he had time again, every day was precious. Every moment something he couldn’t afford to waste, yet here he was debating and stumbling and resisting.
“I will,” he finally replied quietly. “I want to. I will.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. She simply nodded and handed him another garland before pointing to the next doorway.
___
By evening, the common area had been fully transformed. Garland draped over every doorway, a wreath hung on every wall. The dining table had a centerpiece made of pine branches and candles that were already lit brightly and giving the space a warm glow.
Steve stood on the main walkway, taking it all in. Tony was just down the stairs, making final adjustments to a strand of lights that didn’t need adjusting, but his movements were still careful and precise nonetheless.
“It looks good,” Steve called down to him.
Tony glanced up at him, and his expression was soft in the glow of the lights. “You think so?” he asked.
“Really good,” Steve verified, making a point to admire everything around him.
Tony smiled, and Steve’s heart did a complicated somersault in his chest. This was Tony at his best even despite the lingering mania - creating something beautiful, making something good happen for the team through sheer force of will and determination.
Steve considered telling him this time. Wanted to close the distance between them and say everything he’d been holding back for months.
But then Bruce called from somewhere below about the catering company, and the moment was once again shattered. As Tony sighed and offered a look of exasperation up to Steve, the blond cursed to himself that he hadn’t just taken the leap.
“Duty calls,” he offered instead, and Tony huffed a chuckle.
“Sorry, Cap,” the brunet called back.
Tony left, and Steve stood alone in the warmth of the lights, feeling the weight of the cold of the words he hadn’t said.
___
By morning of the 23rd, the Chimera looked like something out of a holiday card. The tree in the hangar was magnificent, heavy and strong under the weight of lights and ornaments and creating patterns of color against the metal walls of the hangar space. The common areas were cozy and inviting, and even the corridors felt different - less like a military vessel than it had ever felt and more like a place where people actually lived.
Steve found Tony in the hangar, still checking over the tree and adjusting the position of its decorations.
“Looks perfect,” Steve called as he approached, grinning up at their hard work.
The brunet jumped slightly, then grinned back. “Just making sure. JARVIS helped me program a sequence for the lights: they’ll shift colors throughout the evening. Want to test it with me?”
He pulled up a control interface on his tablet before Steve had even answered, and the tree lights began to dance, shifting from cool blue to warm gold to deep red, creating patterns that rippled through the branches.
“It’s beautiful,” Steve said honestly, fascinated by the patterns.
“Think so?” Tony replied. “I thought it might be too much, but - “
“It’s perfect, Tony. All of this is perfect.”
They stood together, watching the lights shift and change. Steve was acutely aware of how close Tony was standing, of the way the colored lights played across his face. Beautiful, Steve thought again.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Tony continued, unaware of Steve’s inner thoughts. “Bruce is going to go pick up Kamala - called her last week and got permission for her to stay the weekend. Dinner’s in the evening.” He was checking his tablet again, as if he didn’t have the whole thing memorized by now. “I think we’re ready. I think this may actually work.”
“It’s already working,” Steve countered. “Look at what you’ve done. What all of us have done together.”
Tony’s expression softened as though he were actually considering Steve’s point. “It has turn out pretty good so far, hasn’t it?”
“Better than good, Tony.”
They stood there for another few moments, the lights still dancing in Tony’s perfect pattern around them, and Steve felt the words rising in his throat. Felt the need to finally share with Tony everything he’d been trying to put into words for at least the past week, probably longer. Tell him everything - how much the past few months had meant, how much Tony meant, how the feelings Steve had been harboring since even before A-Day had only grown stronger.
But Tony’s tablet chimed with a new notification, and Tony’s attention was back to that. “Supply delivery confirmation,” he supplied. “Everything’s on track.” He looked back up at Steve, but he was already distracted in his own mind and turning to leave the hangar. “Thanks, Cap. For all the help. Couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“Anytime,” Steve replied, feeling empty.
He stood alone in the hangar, surrounded by the three and lights they’d hung together, and knew that the opportunity had slipped away again.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow Kamala would arrive, and they’d have their celebrations, and maybe - maybe there would be a moment. A real one, where Steve could finally bring himself to say what he needed to say.
He’d lost five years. And these past months had been full of moments like this - close calls, almost-confessions, words that stayed trapped in his chest.
Steve looked up at the tree, at the lights Tony had programmed with such care, and made a promise to himself.
He wasn’t going to let another moment pass. Not anymore.