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Tony flicked the new bug he’d found from underneath the table and crushed it, the tiny electronic crunch echoing in the silence of his workshop and into his mind. He throw into the trashbin. He slumped back into one of the chairs, the leather groaning in protest along with Tony exasperated groan. Steve wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. Since Tony knew about his secret, creepy activity, he was blatantly showing his “undying love,” as he claimed for Tony.
He didn’t care anymore that Tony knew. That Tony was regularly checking his spaces for any new bugs or hidden cameras. After Tony crush every last bit of his bugs infront of the last before he crush that one too, he didn’t stop. Just kept doing it, like he’s waiting for Tony to snap. Now the investor just planted it just to annoy him, it seems.
Though, the project is successful, eventhough Tony battling his inner demons, and go into emotional crisis wether his privacy more important rather than their dying startup? Maybe the answer will be a lot easier if Tony love is as selfish as majority of people think. But no, because Tony make Pepper and Rhodey take chances with him. Stay with him. Even though they have better chances anywhere else. So, Tony decided that if the price is his privacy, then so be it.
What’s special about mine anyway? People can see what I am up to from their gossip twitter post, anyway!
Thanks to that, they were able to move into a more decent place and maybe live more like normal human beings. The problem was that Steve Rogers didn’t stop showing up and bringing everyone gifts or food. Tony had underestimated Steve’s ability to turn people into his love puppets while he was busy pitying and hating himself. Of course he was an actor for a reason, right? Because when Tony wasn’t looking, he’d already charmed everyone in the building, and now he could get into the place without giving notice.
“Pep. You can't just let him in without my permission. He's a stranger!” Tony yelled.
Pepper actually looked offended when Tony reprimanded her for letting Steve in without any real reason. She simply think that Tony still have a problem with Steve and his opinions about the tech Tony working on, without realizing that the problem is already way past that.
They didn’t have any meeting scheduled or an active project with him whatsoever that day, and Tony woke up to the sight of Pepper, Rhodey, and Bruce eating lunch with Steve in the lounge. “Why do you say that? He’s our friend!”
Friend?! Tony screamed inside, horrified. Since when were Pepper—they—friends with Steve Rogers?? And Tony didn’t even realize that was happening? “He’s not our friend!”
“Well, then, if he’s not your friend, he is my friend, and Rhodey’s, and Bruce’s. Why can’t we invite him?”
Tony pulled his hair and screaming inside.
Steve actually looked satisfied when Tony lost the vote, feeling his friends turn against him when they defended the actor. He had the audacity to look hurt when Tony told him to leave, or Tony would. “It's okay, if Tony doesn’t like my presence here, I will go.”
“I'm sorry, Steve,” Pepper said, apologetically.
“It’s okay, Pep,” Steve said, smiling thinly, and looked at all of them who were giving him sad looks. “I will miss all of you.”
“Mr. Stark, you can’t actually do this to him!” Peter actually begged for Steve.
“Come on, man, don’t do this,” and Rhodey defended him.
Everyone was actually trying so hard to shoot him and glaring at Tony, who was seriously baffled at the pitiful acting he presented.
He has no shame! Tony thought furiously.
Steve walked toward the door, his board shoulders slumped just enough to look small and defeated—how the fuck he do that with that muscled back?— He paused at the doorway, turning back with those perfect, puppy-dog eyes. “It’s just... I thought we were building something good here. All of us.” His gaze swept over the room, lingering on each of them before landing back on Tony. “I guess I was wrong about us, Tony.”
Tony wanted to laugh. Or throw something—preferably to that handsome face—the performance was so convincing that Tony himself almost believed it. Almost. Because how did they did not see the malice between those perfect blue eyes? Did they not see the calculation behind those sad eyes? The way his voice trembled just so?
“Steve, wait!” Pepper called out, stepping forward. “Maybe we can talk about this.”
Steve shook his head slowly. “No, it’s clear I’m not welcome.” He looked at Tony one last time, his expression a masterpiece of wounded sincerity. “I’ll be leaving you all alone, by the way. I know when I’m not wanted.”
And with that bombshell, he was gone.
The room erupted.
“Tony, what is wrong with you?” Pepper's voice was sharp, her usual calm completely gone.
“Are you serious? You’re letting our savior, the only one who trust our project and give it a chnace, go away?” Rhodey was pacing, running his hands over his head.
“He was so nice,” Peter whispered, looking genuinely upset. “He even help me get scholarship in one of the foundation he’s supporting.”
Tony stared at them, his mouth slightly open. “Are you all insane? Did you not just witness that? That was just his acting! He is an actor and he act. Emotional manipulation 101!”
“He was hurt, Tony,” Bruce said quietly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You can be... a lot sometimes.”
“A lot?” Tony’s voice rose. “I’m not the one planting surveillance devices in his supposed ‘friend’s’ workshop! I’m not the one trying to buy his way into people’s lives with baked goods and sad eyes!” Yeah, if only Tony can say that out loud. But if he did, if he... Tell them, they might do something. Tony know. And that’s what he doesn’t want to find out. About what will they do if they know. Probably somewhere along breaching the contract or get in jail because punching Steve Rogers in the face.
So, rather than trying to explain something he couldn’t, he stormed out of the lounge, ignoring their protests and shout for explanations. He needed air. He needed to get away from the pod people that was his friends. He made it to the elevator, jamming the button for the roof. The doors slid shut, cutting off their voices.
When he stepped out onto the roof, the city lights stretched out before him. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. He accessed the security feed, pulling up the lobby camera.
Steve Rogers stood there for a moment, the sad, defeated look melting from his face like snow in July. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. He straightened his shoulders, his entire posture changing from wounded to confident. He gave a little wave to the security guard—of course he knew the guard by name now—and then walked out of the building, whistling.
Tony didn’t bother with the elevator. He took the emergency stairs down to the parking garage, his footsteps echoing his fury. He’d spent the last hour compiling evidence on his phone—screenshots of the security feeds, photos of the bugs he'd found, a list of the contractors who’d suddenly, mysteriously pulled out of his new startup, all citing “personal reasons” after a friendly chat with a certain blond investor. This ended tonight.
He drove to Steve’s building, a sleek, modern high-rise that probably where you can most likely find celebrities, influencer, or government officials mistress reside. The doorman tried to stop him. “Stop, this is private property, you couldn’t enter.”
“I am here to see someone.” Tony said, impatiently.
“Who?”
“Steve Rogers.”
“Yeah. Right.”
Tony frowned. “Then, call him and tell him that Tony Stark is—”
“Wait. You are Tony Stark?”
Tony stopped. A bit confused when the guard looked surprised, their firm and assertive look melted to be something more careful. “Yes. Why?”
“You are listed as his spouse here, so—”
Tony almost can’t believe his ears. “What.”
“Ah, yes. Although we never seen you come here before, but I guess you are living separately? Are you two in the middle of divorce?”
“...What.”
“It’s okay, sir. Sorry if I may seem rude and, this is not my place but maybe you can cut him some slack you know? He is often talks about you with us—”
“What?”
“And he seems to like you so much. He even knows how much you have your coffee—”
“Just.” Tony stopped him. Raising one of his fingers, exhales deeply, controlling himself before asking. “Just tell me which floor that asshole live?”
After receiving the information, Tony didn’t wait for the elevator, he taking the stairs again, two at a time, his anger a coiled spring in his gut.
He didn’t knock. He used the emergency override code he had easily procured before coming here—because Steve, for all his stalking prowess, was an idiot who used his birthday for everything—and slammed the door open, ready for a fight.
“Alright, Rogers, why the fuck your doorman thinks we’re married—”
The words died in his throat.
The apartment was immaculate. Cold. Minimalist. And in the middle of the huge, stark white living room, on a ridiculously expensive-looking leather couch, was Steve. But he wasn’t waiting for him. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t even awake.
He was passed out, one arm dangling off the couch, the other clutching his stomach. His face was pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead. He was fully dressed, but his clothes were rumpled, and his breathing was shallow, almost pained.
Tony’s righteous fury, which had been burning so brightly just seconds ago, flickered and died, replaced by... something else. Annoyance, sure, but also a weird, unwelcome pang of something uncomfortably close to pity.
What the hell was this? Another trick? Another performance?
He stepped closer, his anger warring with his concern. “Steve?” he said, his voice harsher than he intended. No response. He nudged Steve's shoulder. “Rogers, wake up. This isn’t funny.”
Steve groaned, a low, guttural sound of pain, and his eyes fluttered open. They were glassy and unfocused. “Tony?” he rasped, his voice a wreck. “What’re you... doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question about the microphone you planted in my lamp,” Tony shot back, but the venom was gone. It just sounded tired now.
Steve tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness made him slump back against the couch, his eyes squeezing shut. “M’sick,” he mumbled. As if that can answers why there is a camera inside his bedroom.
"No kidding." Tony looked around the apartment. It was sterile. There was no sign of life anywhere—no dirty dishes in the sink, no blanket thrown over a chair, no personal touches. Does he even live here? Tony thought. It was like a showroom, not a home. He saw a half-empty glass of water on the coffee table and a bottle of pills. He picked it up. Antibiotics. The prescription was dated three days ago. He’d taken one, maybe two, and then stopped.
“Did you finish these?” Tony asked, shaking the bottle.
Steve just shook his head weakly. “They make me feel... weird.”
Tony sighed, a long, frustrated sound that seemed to deflate him completely. This was not how he envisioned this confrontation going. He was supposed to be yelling, throwing things, maybe getting a restraining order. He was not supposed to be playing a concerned boyfriend.
“Okay, fine,” Tony said, mostly to himself. “New plan.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, which was just as sterile as the living room. He found a clean glass, filled it with water, and returned to the couch. ”Sit up. Drink this.”
Steve struggled, but with Tony’s help, he managed to prop himself up against the cushions. He took the water, his hand shaking so badly Tony had to steady the glass for him.
“Why are you here, Tony?” Steve asked again, his voice a little clearer now.
“I was coming to yell at you,” Tony said honestly. “About everything. The pictures. The fact that you’re single-handedly trying to tank my new company. And about why the hell your security guard thinks we are in the middle of divorce?”
Steve’s eyes drifted closed again. “Wasn’t trying to... tank it. Just wanted... an excuse to see you.”
Tony stared at him. He was so pathetic, it was almost impressive. Here he was, sick and vulnerable, and he was still trying to play the lovesick fool. But there was something in his voice, a raw honesty that cut through the usual bullshit.
“Right,” Tony said, running a hand through his hair. “Well, your little ‘excuse’ almost cost me my dreams and my friends!”
“Sorry,” Steve whispered, and for the first time, he sounded genuinely remorseful. “I admit that is crossing the line, even for me.”
“And what about the fact that the security guard downstairs think we are married?”
“Tony. Have you ever like a celebrity?”
“...yeah I did.”
“Before... Before I am this. Before I am became the hottest men alive, before I was successfully portraying Captain America, before my name actually meant something, before I started investing and become multimillionaire, I like you. You are my celebrity crush. And like everyone else, I like to think of you as my husband. It’s a habit. Didn’t think they would take it seriously, though.”
“So?” Tony asked, demanding more explanations.
“So, I know it’s impossible for you to ever know I am alive. I mean, you are the heir of Stark Industry, that time. At first, it was just... I simply collected your photo that I can get from internet. And then... I got greedy.”
“This is not an excuse for what you did.”
“But Tony, if you capable of getting what you want, literally, as easy as flipping your hand, you will most likely will take it, right?”
“So just because you can, you actively breaching my privacy and stalking me?”
Steve actually looked amused, his earlier guilty expression turned to a smile—sickly smile, considering his condition—looking at Tony, “You really want to take this that way?”
Tony looked a bit offended when he sees Steve smiles, as if he’s not guilty at all for the stalking aspect. “Why? You don’t think it’s wrong?”
“And what about you?”
“What?”
“You hack my phone. You didn’t know at the time that I am taking your pictures illegally. Isn’t that mean you for whatever reason you want to believe to justify yourself breaching my privacy, is basically doing the same thing?”
“...” silence.
Steve smile become even larger when Tony had nothing for comeback. “So, Tony... What do you say again about doing something just because you can?”
From: Natasha Romanoff
To: Steve Rogers
The medicine only made you sick for a day. Use this opportunity to made yourself as pitiful as possible, Steve. Remember you owe me one for the heads up. Also for thor’s sake change your door’s PIN combination into something other than your birthday.
From: Steve Rogers
To: Natasha Romanoff
Tony’s birthday?
From: Natasha Romanoff
To: Steve Rogers
Tony’s birthday is prohibited.
From: Steve Rogers
To: Natasha Romanoff
What about Tony’s security number?
From: Natasha Romanoff
To: Steve Rogers
Absolutely not.
From: Steve Rogers
To: Natasha Romanoff
How about Tony’s graduation date? Tony’s first day on MIT? Tony’s measurement? the number of Tony’s mole? Seems like strong combination to me.
From: Natasha Romanoff
To: Steve Rogers.
No, no, no, and absolutely not.
In fact, anything Tony’s related is prohibited in any other forms so give up and pick something decent :)
From: Steve Rogers
To: Natasha Romanoff
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