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In the army, homosexuality wasn’t a word. It wasn’t a thing.
Men would slip their hands into their own boxers on their tattered bunks, looking up at the ceiling. They’d slip their hands into each other’s, imagining the hand as a wife or a beautiful woman back home, or just as a human that wasn’t going to die tomorrow.
Steve never paid attention. He didn’t have time for self-indulgence. He had too many problems to focus on the stuttered breathing of the men inches away from him in their camps. Losing the ones he had loved only shut that part of him off more. Maybe the ice had really made him numb.
But something was starting to thaw within him.
“What do you even provide to this team?” Steve bellowed in exasperation, leaning back in his chair, mask off, head aching.
“Uh, I don’t know, my devilishly good looks and genius to match. Ask TIME magazine, you should remember that one.”
Steve ignored Tony’s hundredth arrogant comment about his age, sighing as he took in the man in front of him. He looked so different out of the suit. Steve could maybe imagine, could maybe close his eyes and pretend, that Iron Man was an ally and could actually meet himself and Thor on a level of power. It was no lie that the suit itself was one of the strongest manmade—prior to Tony’s protests—weapon. Steve didn’t have to see his face. He only had to deal with his voice.
But right then, with this guy in front of him, wearing slacks and a comfortable hoodie with a little bit of blood drying on his cheek, Steve couldn’t find it in himself to respect him. “You need to put a cap on this whole show. This isn’t a game.”
“I see what you did there, cap, a little pun, huh?” Tony bit back. He had no lack of teases and quips which was, annoyingly enough, just another sign of how genius he was. Who could blame Steve if he was a more simple thinker? He wasn’t trained to be smart. He was trained to be strong. “I digress, I think this is a game, a very fun one, in fact. I’m enjoying myself thoroughly.”
Steve could feel a vein pop in his head as he grit his teeth.
“Come on, man. When was the last time you had a drink and actually had fun, huh? You can’t tell me everyone in the army was sober all the time.”
Steve flushed at the mention of alcohol, and he diverted his gaze. Trust him. He could really use a drink.
He didn’t know why he admitted it, but suddenly, he found himself saying, “I can’t.”
“Told you. Everyone was a little inebriated during—”
“No. I mean. I can’t... drink.”
Steve heard the man roll his eyes. “Oh, right, let me guess, sober to stay strong, alcohol ruins your system or whatever—what do you get weaker? Does it mess with all that”—he gestures to Steve’s body—“stuff?”
“The opposite. Uhm. My cell regeneration. I can’t drink.”
Steve looked up through his brows to see Tony’s face shift. “Oh,” the man said, in a little voice of fake pity, “oh, you can’t get drunk. Now it all makes sense, why you’re such an ass all the time. I would be, too, if I couldn’t get drunk, I mean, wow. Imagine.”
“Is that all? Can we please get back to the topic at hand?” Steve asked, not really knowing what the topic was. All he knew is that Tony now had this tidbit of information against him, and Steve could see in his eyes that he was going to draw this thing out.
“Oh, no, Captain, I’m afraid I’m too interested.” Tony settled, leaning against the table next to Steve’s seat. He crossed his arms and grinned. “What about some weed? Huh? Doesn’t work either? You can’t so much as get a little intoxicated. How do you live that way? Well, obviously, by being stuck-up, but I really thought that was just the spandex—”
“Mr. Stark, that is enough.”
Tony met his eyes, and there was a gleam of pleasure in them.
“No, come on. You can talk to me about this. I’m curious about sobriety. How do you let loose, huh? Getting laid on the side? Using your looks for some relief?”
Steve suddenly flushed, his face hot and eyes flickering elsewhere. “No. I don’t do such things.”
There was no response that time. Steve bravely looked up to see Tony’s eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape in what seemed to be genuine confusion. Like the playboy, popular Tony Stark couldn’t believe that there were beings on planet earth capable of thinking without their dicks for even a second.
Suddenly, he schooled his expression, and smiled again. Steve hated his natural confidence and charisma. He always seemed so certain, the most egotistical guy around, only fueled by how often he proved himself right. It was an endless cycle, really. Suddenly, the man pushed himself off the edge of the table and stood a little closer to Steve, looking down at him.
“Now, that just completes the picture, doesn’t it?”
“Excuse me?” Steve scoffed. Tony was now leaning into his space, hands on his knees, as if he were talking to a child. Steve felt small.
“You can’t get drunk. You can’t get high. And you can’t get off.” Tony laughed to himself with a snort. “You’re whiny and prissy because you can’t get your dick wet.”
Steve rose out of his seat so hard it almost tipped backward, rolling away a couple of feet behind him. He seethed and slammed his forefinger into Tony’s chest. “I’d watch your mouth, Stark.”
Tony was smiling wider, now. “I bet you want to watch my mouth.”
The only thing capable of rivaling Steve’s anger in that moment was the absolute rush of heat going through his body. Some sort of untapped energy, twitching at his muscles, urging him to take a swing at the guy facing him, or to scream, or to do something.
“You act highly inappropriate for a man of your caliber. I have no clue why you are here and why they keep you here. You are an infuriating, little, stuck-up, rich piece of shit—”
Steve didn’t have time to react before Tony was on him. His mouth moved awkwardly as lips were slammed into his mid-sentence, his eyes wide and watching the tufts of Tony’s hair brush the bridge of his nose as the man kissed him. Steve pushed him off roughly and shut his eyes.
“What are you fucking doing?” he exclaimed.
Tony was wiping his mouth with a smirk. “What? Not your cup of tea? They didn’t have gay guys in the army? You too old school for that?”
“I— No, God— It’s— What was that!?”
“Uhm, an attempt to cool you the fuck down, but maybe it didn’t go as planned.” Tony shrugged as if he didn’t just throw his body at him. “But I can tell you’re pent up somewhere over here. Or... everywhere.”
Another laugh. Steve’s head was spinning. He didn’t even know what to do about this, what to say to the cocky, narcissistic, kind-of-super-hot-son-of-his-friend-Howard. They couldn’t be more different. Tony was a bomb that couldn’t stop ticking but never went off and was just so damn annoying and he was still talking, laughing at Steve, “Honestly, I think a little bit of that in your life would get the stick out of your ass.”
Steve scowled and grabbed the man by his hoodie. “Shut up,” he growled under his breath, eyes squinted, looking over Tony’s open eyes before slamming their mouths back together. There was that undeniable heat again. That feeling of energy had a place to go now—into Tony’s mouth, using his teeth and tongue to fight against him, not with words, but with saliva. He felt Tony fall back onto his heels, their height difference dragging Steve down and Tony’s neck back so they could open their mouths more.
Steve felt like an animal. Like some tiger, unable to breathe unless it was into this man’s mouth, and the absolute burn of Tony’s tongue sliding against his was so addicting that everything else faded away. All of the energy and anger in him fizzled into strength at his finger tips when he squeezed Tony’s waist and brought him closer, their bodies flush.
Steve was used to being cold. In ice, in the sky, in dim offices and training facilities. But all he could feel was fire, now. Tony was strong. He let Steve push into him and drag him up and down as he saw fit, but Steve could feel Tony’s fingers on the back of his head, pulling and pushing his hair, a fierce smile struggling through the friction of their lips.
Steve pulled away to breathe, taking sharp inhales through his nose, dizzy and winded and mouth open with drool—his or Tony’s, he didn’t know—dripping down his chin. He wiped it away and focused on Tony, expecting the same ferocity, or some shock, or some effect.
Instead, Tony had fished out his phone in the split second it took Steve to focus his eyes. His mouth was a little redder, plumper, hair messier. Other than that, he didn’t seem affected in the least. He typed something out on his phone. “Ugh. Fury’s calling us again. This guy is seriously out of his mind.”
“I— Stark, what?”
Tony looked up at him. “What?”
Steve didn’t know what to say. He felt dumb, his mouth open like a fish. Tony was the bait.
“Oh? Did it work?” Tony tucked his phone away and looked down at his hoodie, flattening it out. “Feeling better, cap?”
Steve narrowed his eyes and frowned at Tony. “You’re ill in the head.”
“Heyyy now, that’s not very nice. It’s 2012, open up your mind a bit.”
“That’s not—! I’m not homophobic.”
“Well, clearly, given that kiss—”
“There’s something wrong with you.”
“Yeah, well, take it up with the other hundreds of people who feel that way. At least you get something out of it. I don’t really entertain the others.” Tony cleared his throat. “Fury needs us. You ready?”
Steve nodded, and at that, followed Tony out of the small breakroom they were in. Before they reached the door, though, Tony turned. He looked up at Steve, grinning, always grinning.
Steve understood this smile. He wasn’t stupid. He was simple. So he leaned down and pushed Tony against the wall one more time, their mouths meeting slower than before. It was softer, but just as powerful and winding. Tony pulled back, nodded, and patted Steve’s cheek twice.
“Good. Now, when we go out there, let’s not be such an ass, okay?” he asked.
Steve laughed into the open space between them. “Fuck you.”