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Steve hated hospitals. Bucky hated carrying him to them. It was a lose-lose situation really.
Still, it hadn’t stopped him barrelling into an asshole on the street the day before because he was making comments about a girl who was walking past, all five foot nothing of asthma and determination, managing to knock him to the ground. A spike of triumph that lasted for about three point five seconds shot through him, but he was quickly dragged off by a couple of the guys lackeys, and the kicking started.
Bucky wasn’t around at the moment, since he was at work, scraping up enough for their rent and his medication (which served to give him the constant discomfort of guilt in his stomach), because the prices for an apartment in Brooklyn during 2016 were through the roof, even for the shittiest, smallest one in existence. So he was stuck on his own, and looking up at the leering faces above him, he didn’t think they were going to let him off easy.
Steve winced as he was hauled to his feet, but still held his fists up in front of his face, ready for a fight. Not quite stupid enough to start a brawl in the middle of the street, he was promptly grabbed by the collar by one of the group and dragged into to nearest alleyway. Punches, and when he hit the ground for the final time, kicks, rained down on him until he could no longer tell where they were coming from. It wasn’t like usual, where the guy gave him a couple of swings and an insult. Blood poured from his nose and trickled from his mouth, his jaw ached and bruised. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his clothes were wrecked and ragged. By the time they left him alone, Steve was fighting to keep his eyes open. He barely managed to pull his phone from his pocket (thank God for Nokias and their indestructible screens). Breath coming in gasps and painful wheezes, he fumbled with it for a second, desperate to reach Bucky, and have his best friend come and save him.
In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a stressed looking red haired woman, carrying a coffee holder, turn to cut through the alley and freeze in surprise. He opened his mouth, to assure her that he was fine, and wasn’t going to hurt her, because his delusional mind was still convinced that he could do so if he wanted to, before he blacked out.
When he woke up, all he could hear was a steady beeping and the sound of quiet bickering. “Honestly, Pep, send you out for coffee and you come back with decaf and an unconscious, blond kid?” A delightfully soothing, New York accented, voice met his ears, and Steve didn’t even realise he relaxed at the sound of it. “Worst day of the week.” The same voice concluded.
“Oh, shut up, Tony. Does the hospital pay you to bitch?” A brisk female voice answered.
“Now you’re insulting the best Doctor we have? Total insubordination, Nurse Potts.” Tony, apparently, answered in a drawl which suggested he honestly couldn’t care less. He imagined the woman rolling her eyes, and when he forced his eyes open, he had guessed correctly. “Not a kid.” He managed, his throat dry.
Tony turned around, and Steve lost his breath - which, considering his position, really wasn't that great. The man who faced him now, was surely the most stunning individual that he’d ever laid eyes on. Dark, shiny brown locks, that curled around his ears and at his neck, swept perfectly out of his eyes. And what eyes they were, sparkling brown, and framed with the longest lashes Steve had ever seen on a man. Soft lips, which were now quirked in a smile, and carefully trimmed facial hair. He couldn’t have been more than twenty five, and his body was lean under the long white coat he was wearing, his breast pocket stuffed with writing tools and small medical utensils. The eyes softened when they caught sight of Steve, and he mumbled something to the redheaded woman from earlier, the one who discovered him in the alley, who was now also wearing a coat, and was apparently Nurse Potts. Steve really had been lucky.
“Sure, sure. My mistake. I’m Doctor Stark.” Tony said gently, and walked over to his bed to sit in the uncomfortable looking chair next to it. Potts left the room, and Steve sighed. He loved how Tony was looking at him right now, all soft eyes and caring expressions, but it was all wrong. The guy was only looking at him like that because he thought he was some sort of kid because of his size, when actually he was nineteen. “Is there a way I can contact your parents or family?”
“I don’t know, you gotta ouija board, Mister Stark?” Steve replied, and Tony looked immediately saddened. Steve felt bad then, and he didn’t know why since it was his family they were talking about. “I’m sorry. Who looks after you?”
“I was serious, y’know. I’m nineteen.” Steve ignored the question. The Doctor masked his surprise well, but Steve caught the small widening of his eyes. “As for family, James Buchanan Barnes is the closest thing. Can I contact him, please?” His voice ached less now, which he was grateful for. “If he’s not directly related…” Tony stopped short at the crushed look on Steve’s face. “I’ll see what I can do.” He promised, standing up and straightening his coat. “Thanks, Doctor Hottie.” Steve sighed, feeling content, until he realised what he’d just said. A flush spread across his cheeks, and he stared at Tony open mouthed.
Thankfully, Tony just laughed, though that made Steve feel inferior too. The guy probably got a million offers a week. He was gorgeous, and he was a Doctor which meant he was rich. Besides, even if Tony wasn’t all that, Steve was a scrawny, sickly poor kid from Brooklyn. There was just nothing he could contribute to a lasting relationship. He couldn’t even contribute to a lasting friendship, Goddammit. “I, uh, didn’t mean, um - “ He stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse. He sighed, irritated with himself and Tony for being ridiculously perfect. “Fight me.” He demanded hotly, managing to reach up and grab some of his pillows, moving them in front of his face and building a wall to hide his shame. He kept building, and he didn’t hear Tony leave, so he assumed that Tony was still there, probably judging him and re-evaluating his decision to believe Steve when he said he was nineteen, and not six. When he was done, there was a moment of silence, Steve’s cheeks burning brighter. “Maybe later.” Steve was surprised when Tony actually replied, in an amused and actually kind of fond voice, and pulled the pillow mountain away, propping them behind his head. “Got an address on that James guy, blondie?” The Doctor asked, his lips quirked in a smile. “Yeah.” Steve replied, grinning way too much for someone in a hospital bed.
*
“What the Hell, Stevie?!” Bucky demanded, bursting into the room like the police on a drugs bust. “Leave you alone for five minutes, what do I tell you? Can’t stay outta trouble, can you? Jus’ quit fightin’! It ain’t rocket science, is it?” Tony followed behind him, looking harassed. Steve wondered if Bucky had singlehandedly made him stressed, or if he was just busy. He still managed to look handsome, and he had a stray hair over his forehead, a light flush on his tanned cheeks from rushing around from room to room and treating people. “I found your friend.” He said drily as Bucky sat down in what Steve now mentally referred to as Tony’s chair, using the brief time in which Bucky was taking a deep breath and preparing his next verbal attack to speak. “Thanks.” He mouthed back, grateful Bucky knew where he was now and could stop worrying about him. Tony winked, which made his heart speed up a lot more than it should have. Luckily he didn't need to be hooked up to an IV or anything, so it wasn't as noticeable.
“Doctor Stark?” Bucky finally stopped his frontage on Steve and turned to Tony instead, “Can you tell me everything about Stevie’s injuries, please?” Tony looked somewhat relieved, probably having been at the end of protective Bucky already. No one would want to relive that. “Yes, of course, Mr Barnes.” Tony checked his watch as Bucky smiled at him and corrected him to, “Bucky.” Steve’s heart twisted unhappily as Tony gave him a winning smile, and agreed, “Bucky then.” Did Tony give away smiles as freely as that? It made Steve feel so ridiculous for feeling pleased when Tony winked at him, and a tiny, jealous part of Steve wished Bucky wasn't here at all. After all, Steve’s own flaws must seem a hundred times worse with Bucky sitting there, all dark charm and flirting. “Mr - Bucky -- “ Tony paused to correct himself with another grin, “Mr Rogers here - “ Another spike of jealousy, since he didn't get a first name, and it would be stupid and terribly obvious if he tried to initiate that right after Bucky had, “Has a badly bruised jaw, which apart from being sore and achy for a few weeks won't need anything but ice. The same can't be said for his broken ribs. I've put them in a splint to make it as comfortable as possible. It will hurt, but I encourage walking around and acting as naturally as possible, minus the fist fights obviously.” Steve blanched at that, knowing he could get in some serious trouble. “Did you --” Tony cut him off before he even started, pulling a mock offended face. Steve smiled at the playful indignation over his face and the sparkle in his eyes. “Do I look like a snitch to you, Mr Rogers?”
Steve opened his mouth to reply but Bucky beat him to it, didn't he always? Sometimes he hated how like minded they were. “I assure you, Doc, you look a whole lotta things, and a snitch ain't one of them.” Bucky’s tone was completely inappropriate and worse, Tony didn't even look phased by the suggestion in his voice. “I've no doubt that the extensive list of things that you think I look like would be most interesting, Bucky.” He replied with another quick smile, “Not only does he have broken ribs, he also has bruised knuckles, and a broken wrist which is set in plaster. He’ll have to return to the hospital to get that removed in six weeks.” Steve was scowling, mostly out of jealously, but at least it looked like he was just reluctant to have so many injuries. “Thanks, Stark.” Bucky said gratefully, thankful that he had a Doctor who was just telling him all the relevant information in straightforward, simple terms. Neither of them were exactly well read. “No problem.” Tony replied quickly, “I'll be back later to give you a final check up, Mr Rogers, and then your buddy is free to take you home.” He gave them both a smile and turned, leaving the room.
“Isn't he a fine piece ‘a -” Bucky started, but Steve interjected quickly, “Bagsied.” He insisted smugly, and Bucky’s face fell. “Aw, c’mon. You've got broken ribs, you can't -”
“Bucky.” Steve admonished quickly. Dirty minded bastard. His friend looked utterly unapologetic, “Rock, paper, scissors?” He suggested, the go-to solution for arguments about guys. “I saw him first.” Steve grumbled, but he raised his good arm grudgingly. They played.
“Rock -”
“- Paper -”
“-Scissors!”
“Fuck!” Bucky swore as Steve grinned widely, his flat palm moving to cover Bucky’s fist. “Mine.” Steve laughed triumphantly. Bucky looked petulant. “Alright. Alright. You have the only hot, rich, cheeky, smart brunet guy who hasn't shown any disinterest that we’ve seen in months.”
“Thanks.” Steve replied with a smirk, just to be annoying.
“Alright. I'm heading home to organise a ride. We’ll borrow Sam’s car so you don't have to walk.”
“Thanks, Buck.” And like that, it was settled, and Steve knew that as much as Bucky would've tapped Tony, he wouldn't now. The honesty was one of the variables that made their friendship run so smoothly. In all honesty, Bucky probably knew that he didn't stand a chance in Hell, but he'd never said so once when Steve bagsied a guy, never flirted or tried to make him fall for him anyway, even though he could. Steve didn't know what he'd do without Bucky at all.
Now that he was fully conscious, despite being sleepy from the painkillers, Steve was bored out of his mind. He stared out of his window for a while, but he didn't even have any art supplies to record the mid afternoon sky. He found his thoughts drifting to Tony, something that didn't surprise him in the slightest. Even though it was forward, Steve was poor enough and bored enough to fantasise about living with Tony. He imagined spacious corridors and large bedrooms, expensive marble kitchens and plush couches. Perhaps an art studio, with floor to ceiling windows and real easels and oil paints. He could easily picture waking up next to Tony every morning in the spacious bed, with an unnecessary amount of pillows and thick quilts. More than that, the best thing of all, he could picture Tony with half open eyes, voice rough with sleep and hair tousled. Steve would learn how to cook better, now that he had good ingredients at his disposal. After all, he'd have to do something to contribute to the house. He could already picture the guilt he'd face. Perhaps, he'd be able to find work, or get a better further learning like he and Bucky had discussed every now and again. Rarely, of course, since their imagined scenarios and dreams much more frequently bought sadness rather than anything of substance to their lives.
“Day dreaming, Mr Rogers? Don't worry. I'm sure your Bucky will be here to pick you up and out of here soon enough.” Came a charming voice from the doorway. Tony, his hair looking somehow neater than earlier, had a pen behind his ear which was frankly adorable, and a folder in his hands. Steve flushed, embarrassed to think of Tony’s reaction if he could possibly know what the patient had really been daydreaming of, certainly not leaving the hospital. Though, minus Tony, that would be a good thing too. He opened his mouth when a coughing fit interrupted him, causing his lungs to feel as if they'd caught fire. He pulled the sheet up to cover his mouth, cheeks burning with shame. If he had been capable he would've been laughing. Cooking for Tony? Waking up next to him? Steve would probably have an asthma attack over his meal or something else gross.
The Doctor’s brow furrowed and he hurried to Steve’s side, arranging him in a position which Steve suddenly found much more comfortable, and the coughing fit ceased. “Sorry.” Steve spluttered awkwardly, feeling like an idiot. Tony clearly resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “Don’t be. You’re severely asthmatic and underweight.” Tony replied simply, scribbling something down on his file that made Steve feel judged. “Fight me.” He demanded indignantly, pouting at Tony and glaring slightly. “What, because I state facts?” Tony snickered with a smirk, and Steve sighed, wishing he could know Tony better. He would more than willingly spend more time in the hospital for a few more days to see Tony. Then, Tony’s features softened, and he pushed Steve’ hair out of his eyes for him, as messy strands had fallen over his forehead when he’d coughed. It was a quick gesture, lingering just long enough to be slightly sentimental, but not long enough to be interpreted as weird or loving. Anyway, Steve couldn’t be disappointed with that, since Tony had only talked to him a few times, and he’d been injured and pathetic the entire time. “I can’t fight you, because I know you’d win.” He assured Steve gently. “I’m sending you away with medication for your lungs, by the way, and try to eat more and stay warm. Broken ribs initiate a risk of getting pneumonia. Other than that, you should be good to go when your buddy gets here.” Tony informed him after looking him over and checking all of his injuries.
“Thanks for everything.” Steve said lamely, giving Tony a smile since that was literally everything that he had to offer.
“No problem, Mr Rogers.”
“Steve.” Tony grinned at the correction, and Steve pretended that it wasn’t ridiculously sad of him to pretend that the Doctor was actually happy to be on first name basis. Tony hesitated as he turned to leave, as if he meant to say something else, but in the end he settled for, “Take care of yourself, Steve.” He ordered, and then quietly added, “Please.” And he looked so sincere, so honest that it made Steve’s heartache, and guilt rise. “No promises, Doctor. I don’t mind bruises after all.” He shrugged, though Tony’s demands were making much more of an impact than Bucky’s had in a long time, and Tony smiled. “For me.” He replied simply, and Steve’s heart thudded painfully. He was sure in that moment that Tony knew. He knew about his pathetic crush, and the only way that Tony was taking advantage of that was to make sure he was healthy. Who did that? Steve already knew the answer. Good people. Good, kind hearted Doctors who clearly overworked themselves because they had bags the size of suitcases under his eyes but still managed to look good, who kept a sense of humour and a smile for apparently every person who walked through the doors. “Okay.” Steve mumbled, staring at Tony and drinking him in unashamedly, because he clearly knew already that Steve was into him, and he might never see him again.
Then Tony was gone, and it shouldn’t have been anywhere near as disappointed as he was. Soon enough, Bucky turned up, with a grin, a borrowed car and a pizza, and Steve couldn’t exactly ask for more of that. It seemed his friend could sense his sorrows anyway, because he ruffled his hair and opened the door for him. “I’m sure he wanted you. He was just working.” Bucky comforted him, and Steve made a concerted effort to pretend it was true. Despite the fact that Steve thought about Tony and his missed opportunities at least five times and hour, his life dragged on practically as usual. He started to heal up, and his ribs eventually stopped aching so much. The medicine that Tony provided made his chest virtually painless, and he greatly enjoyed jumping around the apartment or from broken couch to broken armchair and not have to be seriously unwell afterwards. He wished he could have a bigger supply of it, but they clearly wouldn’t be able to afford it at all - they could barely afford the necessary ones that kept him alive. He spent most of his recovery time going out with Bucky whenever he wasn’t working, and when he was Steve actually managed to make a couple of bucks on his own by doing small errands while he was able.
One of the best parts about recovering was the immense pity that he got from all of his friends. Sam gave him little gifts, and Bucky somehow managed to be even more protective (overbearing). It was almost a shame when he was practically recovered.
As Steve was laying on the sofa with Bucky, watching the game on their crackly television, the phone rang and Steve jumped up to get it. He felt a tiny protest in his chest and scowled, not wanting to admit that his chest pains were returning. He picked up the phone and heard a brisk woman’s voice on the other end, one that he instantly recognised. “Hello, Mr Rogers.” Nurse Potts said politely. Steve opened his mouth to reply when he heard a distinct scuffle on the line, and the sounds of a palm hitting someone. “You okay?” Steve asked, concerned. He didn’t get a response right away, but he heard Pepper hiss, “You have patients to see, Tony. Get away from the phone.” A whine followed, and then he heard Tony’s voice, and it was one of the best feelings in the world. “But I want to.” Tony whinged, and there was another scuffle. “Get lost, before I arrange his check up with another Doctor and you won’t see him at all.” Pepper scolded. The scuffling stopped, and Steve stood silent, speechless.
“Sorry, Mr Rogers, I called to arrange your check up following your admittance to one of our wards a fortnight ago.” The nurse was all business again, but Steve couldn’t let it go.
“Was that, uh, Doctor Stark?” Steve asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. Pepper sighed loudly. “Yes, sorry. He’s been acting up lately.” She told him, as if talking about a child, and that was actually kind of adorable. Steve didn’t press the matter, but he was elated. He knew what he’d heard, and he wasted no time in sorting out his checkup. Maybe, just maybe, the eccentric Doctor would actually be crazy enough to be interested in him. Steve desperately hoped so anyway.
When the day for his check up came, Steve was mostly healed, even if he still had all of his other problems to deal with, and he and Bucky took the bus to the hospital. The blond immediately felt a stab of sympathy for Tony when he saw how packed the waiting room, and stood in the corner since there wasn’t a single free seat in sight, while Bucky left to look around the town. Steve told him he’d rather Bucky go meet someone or something instead of lurking in the hospital and harassing any more Doctors. He had to wait for almost an hour before he finally got called up, and his heart raced involuntarily when the receptionist told him that, “Doctor Stark is ready to see you.” Before she went back to typing at a furious pace.
She gestured down a corridor where a white sign labelled, “Check ups.” Was hung on the wall, so he walked that way, eagerly anticipating seeing Tony again. The Doctor in question met him halfway, striding down the hall towards him. He looked tired again, and Steve had no doubt that they were overworking him. His hair was a mess, but his tired expression still managed to morph into a grin at the sight of Steve. He flipped over a page on his clipboard quickly as he shouldered a door open to their right and held it open for the smaller man. “Heya, Steve. How’s it going? Your face is in much better condition.” He greeted politely, pulling out a pen and uncapping it with his teeth. Steve stared at him, admiring the simple things like the fluidity and easiness of his movements, despite how fast they were. “Fight me, that was totally an insult.” Steve protested indignantly, before grinning. Better.” He replied truthfully, “and the medicine that you gave me for my chest was incredible. Thanks, Doc.” Tony waved a dismissive hand at his thanks, but grinned anyway. “Just doing my job.” He shrugged, and gestured to a bed for him to sit on. “Can you remove your shirt for me, please?” Tony asked quietly, facing the other way respectfully. Steve sighed and pulled his shirt over his head, wishing he could hear those words in a different context. Tony turned back to face him and checked over his ribs, before proceeding to look at his other injuries and check that they were healing right. The blond wished he could say that his touches were lingering, but they weren’t. They were efficient and fast, and it was a shame when he was finished. “Can you wait here for a minute? I’m grabbing you some more of that medication.” Tony explained, darting off down the hall.
Steve swung his legs and pulled on his shirt again, feeling stupidly self conscious. He was pathetically skinny, and you could see all of his ribs. Tony returned with packs of medication and a coffee, not the watered down decaffeinated crap that they give you while you’re waiting either, but the beautiful, dark elixer of life from a coffee place. He set it down on the little bedside cabinet, and handed the boxes of tablets to him, a much bigger stock than last time. “Thank you, Doctor. So much.” Steve said gratefully, reaching for his jacket. Tony nodded and pushed back his hair, checking his watch. “The, uh, coffee. It’s for you. Have a good day, Steve. I’ll see you around.” Tony offered him one last, bright million dollar smile before he turned and swept from the room, and Steve had the ridiculous urge to make up some random excuse to get him to stay. Sighing, he stared at his hands, knowing he should actually leave, but completely unwilling to do so.
He remembered the coffee, and a small smile made a way onto his face. Surely Tony didn’t just give out coffee to everyone right? He picked up the cup and made his way out, walking through the waiting room and taking small sips. He wanted to savour it, because wherever Tony got it from, it was awesome. Bucky was waiting for him outside and looked mildly betrayed. “Aw, man, you bought expensive coffee? Gimme some!” He demanded, reaching for the cup but Steve was quick to dodge. “No! Doctor Stark gave it to me.” Bucky looked even more pained. “I’m so fucking jealous. Where’s my boyfriend that buys me coffee?” He grumbled, “Is that why there’s writing on it?” Bucky asked curiously, tilting his head to read the slanted scrawl. Steve choked on his mouthful and held the cup up quickly.
A phone number, and underneath were two words. “Fight me?”