Chapter Text
The elevator doors opened onto the common floor with a soft chime, and Tony Stark decided that he had absolutely no intention of ever leaving the Tower again. At least, not voluntarily.
He stepped out first, tugging one of his under gloves off with his teeth before pulling it the rest of the way free. His fingers were stiff from hours inside the suit, and the familiar ache had settled into his shoulders sometime around the third hour of the mission. He flexed his hand once, grimacing at the small sting that followed.
Six hours.
Six hours of chasing armed men through a warehouse district, three collapsed buildings, one very unnecessary helicopter, and a grand total of zero minutes where anyone had thought to ask whether he might like to do something that didn't involve getting shot at.
He tossed the glove toward the kitchen counter, and it missed with a soft thud.
“Nice throw,” Clint called from the couch.
Tony turned his head slowly, and Clint was stretched across the length of the couch, one arm tucked behind his head and an ice pack balanced against his shoulder. He looked far too comfortable for someone who had spent the afternoon taking cover behind a concrete barrier under open fire while Natasha repeatedly told him to stop complaining.
Tony pointed toward the glove lying several feet short of its intended destination. “Thank you. I've been practicing.”
“Clearly,” Clint spoke as he settled back further into the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles as he propped his feet up.
“It's called artistic expression,” Tony scoffed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he walked towards the glove and snatched it off the ground, just to toss it onto the counter.
Clint snorted and shifted the ice pack higher against his shoulder. “Sure it is.”
The rest of the team filtered into the common room behind Tony, each of them looking varying degrees of exhausted. Natasha had already started peeling the tactical gloves from her hands as she crossed toward the kitchen. Bruce followed her, glasses slightly crooked and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking more interested in finding something to eat than discussing the mission. Thor came through the elevator doors with his usual lack of concern for personal space, already halfway through a story about the “cowardly tactics” of the men they'd fought. And, as usual, nobody seemed particularly interested in hearing it.
Tony dropped into one of the kitchen chairs with a groan, letting his head fall back against the cold wood. For a moment, he just sat there.
The Tower was quieter than usual after a mission. Not silent, never silent, not with this many people living in one building. But it was still muted. The hum of the appliances filled the kitchen, while Clint had left the television playing quietly in the background. The city glowed through the enormous windows, scattered lights stretching endlessly beneath the dark sky and casting faint reflections across the glass.
They were home, that was the important part. Tony closed his eyes for half a second, then someone walked past him, and he recognized the steps instantly. Honestly, quicker than he’d like, and he opened his eyes again.
Steve. Of course.
Steve came out of the elevator last, looking irritatingly composed for someone who had spent the better part of the evening throwing himself into the middle of explosions. There was a tear in the shoulder of his uniform and a smear of dirt along his jaw, but otherwise, he looked almost exactly as he had when they'd left.
“Show-off,” Tony muttered under his breath.
Steve stopped halfway toward the kitchen and glanced back at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Tony said quickly, sinking farther into the chair as he planted his feet against the floor.
Steve studied him for a moment, then glanced over at Tony as if trying to decide whether he'd actually said anything. “You said something.”
Tony waved a hand dismissively. “I said show-off.”
Steve stared at him for a beat, his expression remaining perfectly steady. Then he shook his head and continued toward the kitchen. “I heard you.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, watching him pass. “Then why'd you ask?”
Steve glanced back over his shoulder. “Because I was hoping I'd heard you wrong.”
A laugh slipped out of Tony before he could stop it. He shook his head, the familiar irritation settling comfortably back into place. Somehow, that was better. Normal.
That was the strange thing about coming home from a mission. The adrenaline never disappeared all at once. It lingered in pieces, the ache in his muscles, the ringing that still hadn't completely left his ears, and the lingering awareness of every person in the room. But there was still something comforting about seeing everyone fall back into their usual routines.
Natasha pulled open the refrigerator, leaning down to look past the containers stacked along the shelves. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted nothing but an empty carton sitting in the door.
“Who drank all the orange juice?” she asked, holding the carton up as evidence.
Thor, who had been standing beside the counter, glanced over at her. His eyes dropped briefly to the carton before returning to Natasha's face. “I did no such thing.”
Bruce looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, following Thor's gaze. “Right. What’s in your glass, then?”
Thor looked down at his hand. He was quiet for a moment, as if considering whether there might be another answer. “Hm.”
A laugh came from the couch, and Tony couldn't help the tired smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. He rubbed a hand over his face before letting it drop against his knee. “I hate all of you.”
Natasha shut the refrigerator with her hip and glanced over at him. “No, you don't.”
“Give me five minutes,” Tony muttered, sinking further into the couch.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Then you'll hate us?”
Tony looked over at him, expression completely serious despite the faint amusement still lingering in his face. “Probably.”
Clint laughed again from the other end of the couch, and Tony shook his head. For the first time since they'd gotten back, the exhaustion of the mission didn't feel quite so heavy.
Steve passed behind Tony on his way toward the kitchen, and Tony caught the slight stiffness in his movements. It was subtle enough that he probably would have missed it if he hadn't spent the last six hours watching Steve throw himself between the rest of them and anything that looked remotely dangerous.
Tony's eyes narrowed as Steve reached for a glass.
"You're hurt," Tony said, his voice cutting through the easy conversation around them.
Steve glanced over his shoulder, his expression already settling into something frustratingly calm. "I'm fine."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's my line."
"And it's not a very convincing one," Steve replied, turning back toward the counter.
Tony watched him for another second before his gaze dropped to the tear running through the fabric near Steve's shoulder. There was a dark mark beneath it, not enough to be serious, but enough to prove that Steve's definition of fine was probably just as questionable as his own.
“You should get that checked,” Tony said, nodding toward the torn uniform.
“It’s a scratch.” Steve looked down at his shoulder as though he’d forgotten the damage was there.
“I know,” Tony said, giving him a pointed look. “That’s what you always say.”
“Then why are you telling me?” Steve asked, setting his glass down on the counter.
Tony opened his mouth, ready with a response, only to stop when he realized Steve had a point. He hated when Steve had a point, and judging by the faint amusement that flickered across Steve’s face, he knew it too.
Tony leaned farther back into his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee as he studied him. “You know, sometimes I think you actually enjoy telling me what to do.”
Steve turned around, resting one hand against the edge of the counter. “I don’t.”
"Sure," Tony said, dragging the word out as his mouth curled into a grin.
Steve's expression flattened. "I don't."
Tony gestured toward him with one hand. "Captain America doesn't enjoy being responsible for everyone in the room?"
"I am not responsible for everyone in the room," Steve said, though the weary look on his face suggested he'd had this argument before.
Tony swept his hand vaguely around the room. "Could've fooled me."
Clint sprawled across his end of the couch again, as if the conversation was exhausting him, then lifted his head just enough to look between them. "He's definitely responsible for you."
Tony turned his head toward Clint, pointing at him without taking his eyes completely off Steve. "Thank you, Clint. You're on my list now."
Clint settled back into the cushions with a satisfied grin. "You've had a list for years."
"It's getting longer," Tony muttered.
A quiet laugh escaped Steve before he could hide it. It was brief, a breath that was barely there, but Tony caught it anyway. Then Steve's expression shifted back into something annoyingly serious.
“Mission report,” he said, reaching for his glass again.
Tony's smile disappeared immediately as he sunk farther into the couch. “No.”
Steve looked at him over the rim of the glass. “Tony.”
“I've just spent six hours listening to you say ‘move left’ into my comms,” Tony complained, throwing his hands up as though the memory alone exhausted him.
“Because you weren't moving left,” Steve replied, lowering his glass with a pointed look.
“I was busy,” Tony argued, gesturing vaguely toward the room.
“You were flying directly toward the building,” Steve reminded him.
Tony shrugged. “There were people in the building.”
Steve stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Which is why I told you to move left.”
“And I moved left,” Tony insisted, pointing toward Steve as though that settled the argument.
“After you hit the building,” Steve said, his expression remaining completely unimpressed.
Tony pointed at him again. “Technicality.”
Steve stared at him, Tony stared back, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
From the other end of the couch, Clint slowly lowered his ice pack, his eyes moving between them. “Oh, this is good.”
Natasha didn't bother looking up from the tablet in her hands. “Don't.”
“I'm not doing anything,” Clint said, settling back against the cushions. “I'm just watching.”
Natasha scrolled through the report on her screen. “That's encouraging enough.”
Tony glanced toward Clint, a small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “See? At least somebody's on my side.”
Natasha finally looked up at him. “I'm not.”
“Didn't sound like it,” Tony muttered, turning his attention back to Steve.
Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before looking at him again. “Report.”
“Later,” Tony said, leaning farther back into his chair.
Steve's expression tightened, his patience clearly starting to wear thin. “You said that last time.”
Tony shrugged. “And then I did it.”
Steve gave him a look. “Eventually.”
“Still counts,” Tony replied, raising his eyebrows as if the matter were settled.
“No, it doesn't,” Steve said immediately, ignoring the expression entirely.
Tony glanced at him, almost amused by how seriously he was taking this. “It does to me.”
Steve held his gaze for a moment before finally looking toward the clock on the wall. “It's almost midnight.”
Tony followed his gaze, then looked back at him with a slight frown. “Okay?”
“You need to finish the report before you go to sleep,” Steve said, his tone leaving very little room for argument.
Tony scoffed and shifted in his chair. “I'm not going to sleep.”
Steve's eyebrows lifted, and Tony caught the look immediately as he scoffed. “I don't need that face.”
“What face?” Steve asked, his expression remaining completely neutral.
Tony gestured vaguely toward him. “That one.”
Steve watched him for another second before shaking his head. “You fall asleep at your desk.”
“Once,” Tony argued, holding up a finger.
“Three times,” Steve corrected.
Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”
“Last week,” Steve reminded him, folding his arms.
Tony hesitated before shifting in his seat, clearly trying to come up with something that might save him. “Okay, well. That was different.”
Steve tilted his head. “How?”
Tony paused, then mumbled. “I was resting my eyes.”
Clint's laugh came from the other end of the couch before Tony had even finished speaking. Natasha finally looked up from her tablet, the corner of her mouth twitching despite herself.
Tony glanced between them. “What?”
“Nothing,” Natasha said, though her expression suggested otherwise.
Tony narrowed his eyes. “That's what I thought.”
Steve shook his head, pushing away from the counter as he picked up his glass. “Just get it done.”
Tony watched him start toward the hallway, waiting until Steve had taken a few steps before calling after him. “Yeah, yeah.”
Steve slowed to a stop. He glanced back over his shoulder, his expression already saying he knew exactly what Tony was about to do. “Tony.”
Tony lifted his eyebrows innocently from his chair. “What?”
Steve held his gaze for a moment before nodding toward the tablet beside him. “Don't make me come find you.”
Tony's expression shifted. It was such a simple thing to say, but there was something about the certainty in Steve's voice that made him sit a little straighter.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees as he studied Steve. “Is that a threat?”
Steve didn't move. He just looked back at him, completely unfazed by the challenge.
“It's a promise,” Steve said flatly.
Tony went quiet. For once, he didn't have a smart answer ready.
His reaction made Steve's mouth twitch, barely noticeable, like he'd expected that. And Tony caught it.
“You know,” Tony said, recovering as he reached for the tablet, “you're getting a little too comfortable threatening me.”
“I'm not threatening you,” Steve replied, turning back toward the hallway. “I'm making sure you actually finish the report.”
Tony looked down at the tablet, then back at Steve's retreating figure. “Same difference.”
Steve shook his head, but Tony caught the faint smile on his face before he turned away completely.
“Our report,” Steve called back.
Tony rolled his eyes and opened the document. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cap.”
Steve glanced back over his shoulder one last time. “I mean it, Tony.”
Tony lifted the tablet in a lazy salute. “And I heard you the first six times.”
That earned him an unimpressed look, and Tony smiled. “Go to bed, Rogers.”
Steve shook his head, but there was the faintest trace of amusement in his expression as he turned away. Tony watched him disappear down the hallway before finally looking back at the tablet in his hands, and the screen lit up.
MISSION REPORT: INCOMPLETE.
Tony stared at it, then he sighed and muttered, “Yeah. I hate you too.”
Around him, the rest of the team had already begun disappearing for the night. Clint finally abandoned the couch for the elevator, still complaining about his shoulder with the melted ice pack in his hand. Bruce headed toward the lab with a promise to check everyone's scans in the morning, while Thor and Nat remained in the kitchen, apparently determined to see how much food they could consume before finally calling it a night.
The common room slowly emptied, the noise fading with every set of footsteps until Tony was left with little more than the hum of the lights and the quiet tapping of his own fingers against the tablet.
He lasted approximately three minutes, then his phone buzzed against his thigh. Tony pulled it from his pocket without looking, expecting another mission alert. Instead, the screen lit up with a familiar name.
Pepper <3
Three unread messages. Despite the exhaustion settling into his bones, Tony smiled. He unlocked his phone and opened the conversation, answering while still half-focused on the report in front of him.
It was, in hindsight, probably not his best decision.
Tony lasted approximately three minutes before deciding that if he was going to finish the report, he needed somewhere quieter than the common room.
He pushed himself out of the chair, tablet tucked beneath one arm, and glanced toward the kitchen. Thor was still standing at the counter, apparently in the middle of a second dinner, while Natasha had abandoned her tablet long enough to argue with him about what counted as an acceptable midnight snack.
Tony didn't bother getting involved. He had already survived one stupid argument tonight, that was enough.
The hallway was noticeably quieter when he stepped into it. The noise of the common room faded behind him with every step, replaced by the low hum of the Tower's ventilation system and the muted city noise filtering through the windows.
Tony headed straight for the lab, like always. It wasn't that he couldn't work in the common room. Technically, he could work anywhere. He'd designed half the Tower's systems from a kitchen counter, and once managed to repair an arc reactor while sitting on the floor of a Quinjet.
But he was tired. And when Tony was tired, his attention had a tendency to scatter.
The lab doors slid open when he approached, and the familiar glow of the workstations washed over him. Screens sat dormant around the room, their displays casting faint reflections across the polished surfaces. A few unfinished projects remained exactly where he'd left them earlier that afternoon, wires and tools scattered across one of the workbenches.
Tony dropped the tablet onto the nearest surface and rolled his shoulders. The ache was worse now that he had stopped moving, but he ignored it. Instead, he pulled out one of the stools and sat, waking the main monitor with a quick tap against the screen. The mission report appeared in front of him, unfinished and already irritating.
“Okay,” Tony muttered, reaching for the keyboard. “Let's pretend this is worth finishing.”
He made it through two paragraphs, then his phone buzzed against the workbench. Tony glanced down at it to see a familiar notification.
Pepper <3
His expression softened immediately as he picked up his phone, leaning back against the edge of the workbench as he opened the conversation.
Pepper <3 [23:47]
miss you, send pic?? :)
Tony felt the faint shift of a smile form on his lips. Of course she missed him. He glanced at the half-finished report on the monitor, then back at the message. He could spare a second, probably.
Tony [23:48]
miss you, of course.
He was still looking at the message when another notification appeared across the top of the screen.
Steve [23:48]
Hey Tony, could you send over the report logs from today’s mission?
Tony stared at the notification. Great. Steve was texting him now.
He glanced at the report sitting open on the monitor, then back at his phone. He could practically hear Steve reminding him that the report wasn't going to finish itself. With a quiet sigh, he unlocked the conversation.
Tony [23:49]
sure cap, give me a sec.
He stared at the message after sending it, his thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before another thought occurred to him. Pepper asked for a picture. Right. Tony opened his camera roll. There were hundreds of pictures buried there, most of them completely useless. Schematics he'd forgotten about five minutes after taking them, half-finished projects, and random screenshots. Pictures of things he'd meant to remember and never looked at again. He scrolled for a while, then eventually found what he was looking for. Tony barely looked at it before tapping send.
The message appeared. Delivered.
He dropped the phone onto the workbench and turned back toward the monitor, first line, then another, and another. His eyes moved over the same sentence twice without actually registering it. Then the phone buzzed again. Tony reached for it without looking, almost grateful for the excuse to stop pretending he was getting anything done.
Pepper <3 [23:51]
i meant pics of YOU, not your missions dear lol
Tony frowned as he looked down at the conversation, then at the little photo icon beneath his last message. For a second, he genuinely didn't understand what she meant. He looked at the photo he'd just sent again. A schematic. Of course. He'd been looking through his camera roll, thinking about the report, answering Steve, answering Pepper-
His eyes moved back to the conversation. Then to the name at the top. Then back to the photo. Something in his expression changed as his tired mind tried to catch up with his thumbs.
Tony [23:51]
what?
well yeah, obviously. what else would you have meant?
He stared at the screen, and the answer came to him almost immediately, as his stomach dropped.
Tony [23:51]
wait
shit.
He sat up straighter, suddenly wide awake. There were two conversations. Two people. Two photos. And he'd been moving between them without paying enough attention to which one he'd actually been sending things to.
“Oh, no.” The words came out under Tony’s breath, as he looked at the conversation with Steve.
His blood went cold. The photo was sitting there beneath his message about the report logs. Steve had it. And he had opened it. Tony's thumb hovered uselessly over the screen, as though staring at the message hard enough might somehow make the last thirty seconds undo themselves.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Pepper <3 [23:52]
what happened?
Tony didn't answer, he couldn't quite bring himself to look at her message again, not when his attention had already shifted to another notification that had appeared.
Steve [23:52]
Tony. I don't think that was the right picture.
Tony's stomach dropped again. Right. Steve. Of course.
He opened the conversation, and there it was. The photo. Still sitting there beneath his message about the report logs, looking exactly as incriminating as it had a second ago. Tony stared at it, hard. There had to be a way to unsend things. There was always a way to unsend things. But apparently not this. Not after it had already been opened.
He dragged a hand down his face, then looked back at the screen. Okay. Fine. He could fix this. His thumb hovered uselessly over the screen before he finally typed the first thing that came to mind.
Tony [23:52]
what other reports would you have wanted?
He sent it, and immediately regretted it, closing his eyes with a quiet groan. “Jesus Christ.”
That had been stupid. Very stupid.
He opened the keyboard again before he could make himself think about it.
Tony [23:53]
fuck
steve that was NOT for you
He sent it before he could reconsider that, too. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Tony's gaze drifted back to Pepper's conversation, and her message was still waiting.
what happened?
Beneath it, another notification sat unopened.
Pepper <3 [23:52]
Tony? is everything alright?
Tony stared at the unopened message. Then at Steve's name. Then back at Pepper’s. Somehow, he'd managed to turn a simple request for a picture into an insanely embarrassing incident, and the situation somehow managed to get worse every time he looked at it.
“Fuck, this is a joke,” he muttered, dropping his elbow onto the workbench and dragging a hand through his hair.
He returned to Steve's conversation, and a response was already waiting.
Steve [23:53]
Well, I assumed so.
If I knew what it was, I wouldn't have opened it.
Tony winced at the texts. Okay, fair. Painfully fair. He could practically hear the disappointment in Steve's voice, which somehow made the whole thing worse. Then another message appeared.
Steve [23:54]
Not that it was bad, but I know it wasn't meant for me.
Tony stopped, and his eyes moved over the sentence once, then again, and he found his attention caught on the first five words.
Not that it was bad.
He leaned back slightly, the stool suddenly uncomfortable no matter how he sat, and the phone still held loosely in his hand. “What-”
That wasn't what Steve was supposed to say. Steve was supposed to tell him to be more careful. He was supposed to make some dry comment about Tony's complete inability to pay attention. Maybe tell him to stop texting while half-asleep. Something normal. Something Steve.
Not that.
Tony looked at the message again.
Not that it was bad.
What did that even mean?
His thumb hovered over the screen, but before he could decide whether he actually wanted an answer, another message appeared.
Steve [23:55]
Be more cautious of what you're sending, Tony.
Tony stared at that one for a moment, almost thankful. There it was. Normal, almost.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and let his head fall back for a second. “Right.”
That was easier. That was Steve telling him off. Steve being Steve. Something Tony knew how to deal with. He looked down at the keyboard, answering quicker than he would’ve liked to admit.
Tony [23:55]
you gotta give me a break, that mission was exhausting okay.
just forget about it.
Tony’s thumb lingered over the screen. He should leave it there. Actually, he should probably stop texting entirely, finish the report, and pretend none of this had happened. That would be the sensible thing to do, but Tony had never been particularly good at the sensible thing.
His eyes drifted back to Steve's earlier message.
Not that it was bad, but I know it wasn't meant for me.
There it was again. That little sentence. Tony frowned, and he didn't know why it bothered him. Maybe because Steve had noticed, maybe because Steve had opened it and hadn't immediately acted horrified, or maybe because not that it was bad sounded suspiciously like Steve had considered the alternative before deciding what to say.
Tony's thumb moved before he could stop it, and he pressed against the message and replied directly.
Tony [23:55]
????
don't say this when you're trying to act upset with me.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the typing indicator appeared. Three dots. Tony watched them. They disappeared, then came back, and his stomach twisted as he waited. He hated that it did.
Steve [23:56]
Fuck Tony.
Tony's eyebrows shot up, and a surprised laugh escaped him before he could stop it. He could practically hear the exhaustion in Steve's voice, and could picture the exact look he'd be wearing if he'd said it aloud.
Then another message appeared.
Steve [23:56]
Like you said, just forget it.
Tony shook his head, a grin tugging faintly at his mouth despite himself. There. That was better. Familiar. Something he knew how to deal with. His fingers moved before he could think too hard about it.
Tony [23:57]
language cap.
The typing indicator appeared almost immediately, and Tony's grin lingered for another second, then the response came through.
Steve [23:57]
Steve.
The smile disappeared off of Tony’s face as he stared at the single word. Nothing else. Just Steve. His thumb hovered over the keyboard again as he now frowned subtly instead.
Tony [23:58]
huh?
The typing indicator appeared again. Tony waited, and waited. The soft hum of the machinery filled the room. The monitor behind him still glowed with the unfinished mission report, completely forgotten now. His phone felt strangely heavy in his hand.
Three dots. Gone. Three dots again. Tony’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen, then the message appeared.
Steve [23:59]
Call me Steve. Please.
Tony stared at the screen, and for once, he didn't have anything smart to say. He didn't type, didn't even move. The words sat there beneath his last message, simple enough that they shouldn't have meant anything.
Somehow, Tony couldn’t quite make himself believe that.
Call me Steve. Please.
Unopened.
Tony woke up with the uncomfortable certainty that he had made a mistake. Not a catastrophic one, not this time anyway. Nothing had exploded. Nobody had called him in the middle of the night. There hadn't been an angry message waiting on his phone when he'd finally crawled into bed sometime after two in the morning.
But that didn't mean anything, because Steve’s words were stuck in his head all night.
Call me Steve. Please.
Tony had stared at those words for long enough that the screen eventually dimmed in his hand. He hadn't answered, he'd told himself there wasn't anything to answer. It was a weird thing to say, and Steve had probably been tired, and Tony had sent him a photo he absolutely hadn't meant to send him, so really, the entire conversation had been weird from the beginning.
That was all. Nothing to think about. Which was exactly why Tony had spent the better part of the morning thinking about it.
He showered, got dressed, drank half a cup of coffee without tasting it, and spent an unreasonable amount of time standing in front of his closet trying to decide what constituted a normal amount of effort for seeing someone he'd accidentally sent a very private photograph to less than twelve hours ago.
Eventually, he grabbed the first shirt he'd picked up, his usual long sleeve, and some shitty pair of jeans, because anything else would be ridiculous.
Tony made his way toward the common room with his phone in one hand, telling himself that he was absolutely not checking whether Steve had sent anything overnight. He hadn't, of course he hadn't.
The doors opened as Tony stepped inside, and he stopped almost immediately. Steve was already there, where else would he be? Steve was sitting at the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee beside him, one hand resting against the edge of his tablet as he read through whatever was on the screen. He looked irritatingly normal. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower, and he was dressed in a plain shirt and jeans, looking less like Captain America and more like the guy Tony had spent years arguing with over everything from mission plans to whose turn it was to replace the coffee filters.
Tony stared at him for a second longer than he meant to, long enough for Steve to look up, and their eyes met. For half a second, Tony forgot what he'd been about to say.
Steve's expression didn't change, tone blank as ever. “Morning.”
Tony blinked, his response coming out just as flat. “Morning.”
Steve gave him a small nod before looking back down at his tablet, and that was it. Tony stood there, waited, but nothing happened, and it made his eyebrows draw together. That's it?
He'd expected something, at least. Not necessarily an apology or an explanation. He wasn't even sure what he expected, exactly. A strange look, or maybe a pause. Some acknowledgement that the two of them had spent part of the previous night having a conversation that Tony couldn't stop replaying in his head.
Instead, Steve seemed perfectly content to read his tablet and drink his coffee.
Tony walked farther into the room, trying very hard not to look like he was deliberately watching Steve. He set his phone down on the counter, poured himself a coffee, and added cream. Still nothing. Tony stirred his coffee slowly, Steve scrolled, and he took a sip deliberately loud, yet Steve didn't look up.
He hated this. More specifically, he hated that he was trying to get a reaction out of Steve at all.
Tony leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he glanced sideways at him, and Steve continued reading.
“So,” Tony said eventually.
Steve's eyes remained on the tablet. “So?”
Tony opened his mouth, nothing came out, then he frowned at his coffee. “Nothing.”
Steve finally looked up at him. There was the faintest crease between his eyebrows, like he was trying to figure out what Tony was doing, and Tony immediately looked away.
Steve held his gaze for another second before returning to his tablet. “Okay.”
Tony narrowed his eyes, because that was almost worse. He took another drink and tried to convince himself he didn't care. He clearly did, but nobody needed to know that. He cared enough that every little thing Steve did seemed suddenly noticeable. The way he held the mug, the way his thumb moved across the screen, the fact that he hadn't once looked at Tony for longer than necessary.
Especially that.
Tony glanced down at his phone, saw no new messages, then he looked back at Steve. Nothing.
Call me Steve. Please.
The words appeared in his mind again, so clearly that Tony almost choked on his coffee. He needed to stop thinking about it. Fortunately, the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway gave him something else to focus on.
“Why does everyone look miserable?”
Clint appeared in the doorway, rubbing at his shoulder as he walked into the common room. Natasha followed close behind him, already dressed and carrying her tablet, while Bruce wandered in a few moments later with a mug in one hand and his glasses slightly crooked.
Tony straightened instantly as the room gradually filled with the familiar sounds of morning. The sound of chairs scraping against the floor, the hum of the coffee machine, Clint complaining about his shoulder despite having been told approximately four different times that it wasn't serious.
It was normal. Everything was normal. Which, Tony was beginning to realize, was somehow making him more uncomfortable.
A few minutes later, everyone had settled around the table for the morning briefing. Steve stood at the head of it with his tablet in hand, slipping effortlessly into the role of leader as he brought up the information they'd recovered from the previous night's mission.
“Okay. We've got a few things to go over from last night.”
Tony sat back in his chair, coffee between his hands. He made himself look attentive, or at least tried to.
Steve glanced around the table before continuing. “The warehouse wasn't the primary location. Natasha's intel suggests it was being used as a staging point.”
Natasha slid a tablet across the table. “We pulled the security footage. There were deliveries coming in every eight hours, but nothing stayed longer than a few hours.”
Bruce leaned forward, studying the images. “Which means whatever they were moving through there wasn't being stored.”
“Exactly,” Natasha said.
Clint frowned. “So where was it going?”
“That's what we're trying to figure out.” Steve said calmly, and Tony nodded along.
At least, he hoped he looked like he was nodding along. His attention kept drifting. Back to Steve.
Steve was completely focused on the discussion, scrolling through the information on his tablet and occasionally looking up to respond to Natasha or Bruce. He didn't look uncomfortable. He didn't look distracted. He didn't look like someone who had told Tony to call him by his name less than twelve hours ago.
Tony shifted in his chair as he got lost in thought. Maybe Steve really had forgotten about it. No. That was impossible. Tony looked at him again, and Steve's eyes met his, so Tony immediately looked back at the table.
A few minutes later, Steve was explaining something about the routes they'd mapped from the warehouse when Tony realized he hadn't heard a word of it.
“Tony?”
Tony looked up, and Steve was watching him. “What?”
“Do you have anything to add?” Steve narrowed his gaze as he waited.
Tony blinked. “Of course.”
Steve stayed silent, while Tony stared back. There was a brief, horrifying realization that he had absolutely no idea what Steve had just been talking about.
He glanced toward Natasha, and she raised an eyebrow as Clint's mouth twitched.
Tony cleared his throat.
“I think,” he began carefully, “we should probably do the thing.”
Bruce frowned. “The thing?”
Tony nodded as though this were perfectly reasonable. “Yeah.”
Steve stared at him, and Tony held his gaze as he nodded in his direction. “Whatever thing you were talking about.”
Clint made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Natasha looked down at her tablet, very deliberately hiding her expression.
Steve's face remained completely unreadable. “Right.”
He looked back down at his notes, and Tony shifted in his chair.
Steve continued, “That's exactly the kind of insight I was hoping for.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “Always happy to contribute.”
“I can tell.” Steve mumbled as he turned away to continue.
There was something about the way Steve said it that made Tony wonder whether he was talking about the meeting at all. Tony leaned back, folding his arms. He hated that tone, mostly because he couldn't tell if Steve was teasing him or if he was still talking about last night.
And Steve wasn't giving him anything. Not a single clue.
The meeting continued, and Tony tried to focus, he really did. But every time Steve looked up, Tony found himself wondering if he was finally going to mention it. Every time Steve paused over a point, Tony wondered if this was going to be the moment. Every time Steve's phone buzzed against the table, Tony's attention flickered toward it before he could stop himself. Nothing. Steve never said a word.
Eventually, the meeting came to an end. Steve closed his tablet, and the quiet click seemed to signal everyone else to start moving. Chairs scraped against the floor as Clint stood up and off to the side, Bruce gathered his notes, and Natasha tucked her tablet under one arm.
Tony remained seated for another moment as he watched Steve collect his things. Still nothing. Steve looked up, their gazes meeting again, and Tony waited.
Steve simply glanced toward him. “Tony.”
Tony's heart gave an irritating little jump. “Yeah?”
“Are you paying attention?” Steve questioned flatly as he stood upright.
Tony straightened slightly in return. “Always.”
Steve gave him a look. Not annoyed, yet not amused, just that familiar, painfully unimpressed Steve Rogers look that Tony had seen approximately a thousand times before.
“Right.” Steve muttered as he picked up his tablet and walked away.
And Tony watched him go. He waited until Steve disappeared down the hallway before letting himself sink back into his chair.
Across the table, Clint was watching him.
Tony looked over.
“What?”
Clint shrugged, still wearing the faintest hint of a grin. “Nothing.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “I don't like that face.”
“I didn't say anything.” Clint hummed as he slid his tablet under his arm.
“You were thinking something.” Tony mumbled as he stood up quickly from the suddenly uncomfortable seat.
Clint's grin widened. “Was I?”
Tony pointed at him. “Don't.”
Clint laughed as he headed toward the elevator, and Tony watched him go before turning back toward the hallway where Steve had disappeared.
The common room suddenly felt too quiet. Tony looked down at his coffee, then at his phone, and there was still nothing. Obviously.
He'd spent the entire morning waiting for Steve to say something, and Steve hadn't given him a single thing. Not a glance that lasted too long. Not an awkward pause. Not even a hint that last night had happened at all.
Somehow, that was worse.
Tony exhaled slowly and pushed himself away from the table.
“Asshole,” he muttered under his breath.
He made it three steps toward the hallway before stopping, because, irritatingly, the word didn't quite feel like an insult anymore.
And that was becoming a problem.
The meeting had been over for a few hours now, and everyone had gradually scattered to their usual routines. Clint had gone downstairs to train, Natasha and Bruce had disappeared with the intelligence they'd recovered, and Thor had been just as absent as he was when the meeting started.
Tony had returned to the table sometime after lunch, though he couldn't have said exactly why. Not because he had anything left to say. Not because there was anything particularly interesting left on the tablets scattered around him. Mostly because he hadn't quite figured out what he was supposed to do with himself now.
His tablet was open in front of him, a half-finished schematic glowing on the screen, but he hadn't made much progress. Every few minutes, his attention drifted away from the work and toward the rest of the room. He told himself he was just distracted.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Steve was still sitting across the room.
Then again, Tony had spent the entire meeting waiting for some indication that Steve was thinking about it too, only to get absolutely nothing in return. Steve had been exactly the same as always, calm, focused, and annoyingly responsible. He'd gone through the intel, corrected Clint twice, answered Bruce's questions, and somehow managed to notice that Tony wasn't paying attention without ever once acknowledging why.
It was almost impressive. Tony hated it.
Across the room, Steve was standing near the kitchen counter, tablet in hand as he went over something from the meeting. He looked completely at ease, one hand resting against the edge of the counter while he scrolled through the screen.
Tony watched him, and he wasn't staring, he was observing. There was a difference.
Steve looked up, just for Tony to immediately look down at the tablet in front of him, pretending he'd suddenly become fascinated by a report he'd already read twice.
A few seconds passed, then Steve's voice came from across the room. “Are you actually going to read that?”
Tony looked up, and Steve was still holding his tablet, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.
Tony glanced down at the screen. “I am reading it.”
“You've been looking at the same page for five minutes.” Steve stated casually, as if he didn’t admit to noticing Tony’s habits.
Tony's eyebrows lifted. “I like the page.”
Steve's mouth twitched, barely, but Tony caught it. And something about that tiny reaction made the irritation he'd been carrying around all morning shift into something else.
Tony leaned back in his chair as he spoke casually. “You know, some people have no sense of humor.”
Steve's thumb stopped against his tablet, then he looked up. “Are you talking about something specific?”
Tony shrugged. “No.”
Steve studied him for a moment, and there was something in his expression Tony couldn't quite read. Not annoyance, but not exactly amusement, either.
Steve simply nodded. “Good.”
Then he looked back down at his tablet.
Tony stared at him, his brows furrowing as he turned his gaze back to his tablet. That was it? He'd practically handed Steve an opening, and Steve had just closed it, but fine. If Steve wanted to pretend nothing had happened, Tony could do that too. Probably.
He pushed himself out of the chair, more restless than he'd been willing to admit, and carried his tablet toward the kitchen. He dropped it onto the counter beside Steve's, the sound earning no reaction. Steve remained absorbed in whatever he was reading, one hand loosely wrapped around his coffee mug while the other scrolled through the screen.
Tony watched him for a moment, then another, and noticed he was doing it again. Watching Steve. Waiting for something. Anything. A glance that lingered, a simple comment, some indication that the conversation from last night hadn't simply disappeared from Steve's mind the second he'd gone to bed. Yet nothing came.
Tony leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “You're being weird.”
Steve's thumb continued moving across the tablet. “I'm not.”
The answer came so easily that Tony's eyebrows pulled together. “You are.”
Steve finally stopped scrolling, and he lifted his eyes to Tony, his expression calm enough to be infuriating. “Okay.”
Tony stared at him blankly, because he had expected Steve to argue, to tell him he was imagining things. Maybe even ask what exactly Tony thought was weird. Instead, Steve had accepted the accusation like Tony had commented on the weather.
Tony shifted his weight against the counter. “That wasn't the response I was expecting.”
Steve's eyebrows lifted slightly. “What response were you expecting?”
Tony opened his mouth, realizing with some irritation that he hadn't actually thought that far ahead. He recovered quickly, shrugging as he reached for his coffee. “Something more defensive.”
“Why?” Steve seemed unbothered, yet his eyes studied Tony’s reaction.
Tony looked at him, taking a second before he answered. “Because I accused you of being weird.”
Steve took another sip of his coffee, watching Tony over the rim of the mug. “And?”
Tony frowned, because he had absolutely nothing.
Steve set his mug down against the counter with a quiet click, his attention never leaving Tony. “If you're going to accuse me of something, Tony, you should probably have a reason.”
Tony's eyebrows lifted. “I have a reason.”
“Do you?” Steve tilted his head subtly, and the question was so calm that Tony almost wished Steve had argued with him instead.
Tony folded his arms across his chest. “You're being weird.”
Steve held his gaze for a beat longer. “That's not a reason.”
Tony stared at him, then Steve picked up his tablet again, apparently satisfied with that. And it only irritated Tony more. There was something about the way he said it, calm, measured, and almost challenging, that made Tony's stomach tighten.
Tony tilted his head. “You know what.”
Steve held his gaze, and for a second, neither of them moved.
Then Steve's expression softened by the smallest degree. “Do I?”
Tony's eyebrows rose. It wasn't proof, exactly, but it was enough to make him suspect Steve knew exactly what he was doing. And yet, Steve wasn't giving Tony the satisfaction of saying it first.
Tony's mouth curled into a faint, disbelieving smile. “You really want me to spell it out?”
Steve's eyes stayed on his. “No.”
The answer was quiet, certain, and Tony's smile faltered for half a second.
Steve picked up his tablet again as he looked back down at the screen. “Then we're done here.”
Tony remained where he was as he stared at Steve's profile, trying to decide whether he'd just been dismissed or whether Steve had deliberately left the conversation hanging there. Probably both. The worst part was that Tony couldn't tell which possibility bothered him more.
He reached for the coffee pot, not letting the conversation end just yet. “So.”
Steve didn't look up, and Tony poured himself another cup, deliberately taking his time. “You remember what you said last night?”
Steve's hand stopped, just for a fraction of a second, but Tony saw it. The tiny pause sent a strange little jolt through his chest, half satisfaction and half something he didn't want to examine too closely.
Steve looked up slowly. “I remember the conversation.”
Tony took a sip of coffee, watching him over the rim of the mug. “Interesting.”
Steve's eyes narrowed. “What?”
Tony shrugged, lowering the mug. “Nothing.”
A beat passed as Steve studied him, and Tony could practically see him deciding whether to push. He didn't. Instead, Steve looked back down at his tablet, and Tony smiled into his coffee.
Oh. He remembered. He absolutely remembered.
And apparently, Steve had decided that if Tony wanted to talk about it, Tony was going to have to be the one to bring it up. Fine. Tony could play that game, he was very good at games. At least, he usually was.
By the time Steve came looking for him in the lab later that afternoon, Tony had almost convinced himself he'd stopped thinking about it. Almost.
He'd spent the last hour buried in schematics, letting the familiar logic of numbers and circuitry pull his attention somewhere safer. There was comfort in work that behaved exactly as it was supposed to. If something didn't fit, there was a reason. If something went wrong, he could find the problem.
People were considerably less cooperative. Especially Steve.
The lab doors slid open behind him. “Tony.”
Tony looked up from the holographic display hovering above his workbench. Steve stood in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame and a tablet tucked beneath his arm. He looked exactly as he always did. Composed, focused, and irritatingly normal.
Tony's eyes flicked briefly to his face, then to the tablet. “What?”
Steve stepped farther into the room and held the tablet out. “Could you send me the updated schematics for the armor modifications?”
Tony stared at him, and there it was, another opportunity. He knew he should just take the tablet, send the schematics, then let Steve leave.
Instead, a slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, Captain.”
Steve stopped. It was subtle, almost nothing, but Tony had been watching him all day. He caught it. The slightest tightening of Steve's jaw, the way his fingers shifted around the tablet, then Steve looked at him, and Tony knew immediately that he'd hit something.
Tony's smile widened as Steve lowered the tablet by an inch. “Tony.”
The single word was quiet, but there was enough warning in it to make Tony's pulse kick as he blinked innocently. “What?”
Steve gave him a look. Not angry, but that particular expression Steve seemed to reserve for Tony, the one that said he knew exactly what Tony was doing, and was trying to decide whether indulging him was worth the headache.
Tony's grin threatened to break. “What?”
“You know what,” Steve muttered, his hand tightening faintly on the tablet as he pulled away.
Tony's eyebrows lifted, and for a moment, the teasing felt easy again. Then the meaning caught up with him.
You know what.
Tony's smile faltered, because Steve remembered. Not just the photo, not just the conversation, he remembered that.
Tony swallowed and forced the grin back into place. “Do I?”
Steve held his gaze. “Yes.”
The answer was immediate, no hesitation, and Tony's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the workbench. Neither of them moved. The lab suddenly felt much quieter than it had a moment ago. The machinery hummed softly behind them, screens flickered across the walls, and somewhere deeper in the Tower, an elevator chimed. Neither paid attention.
Tony's eyes dropped briefly to the tablet in Steve's hand before returning to his face.
“Right,” he said, quieter this time.
He reached for the tablet, their fingers came close, but they didn't touch. Still, Tony noticed the distance between them. And judging by the brief flicker in Steve's eyes, so did he.
Tony looked down at the tablet. “Anything else, Captain?”
Steve's jaw tightened, just slightly. “No.”
He turned toward the doorway, and Tony watched him go, unable to stop himself.
Steve reached the door, stopped for a second, then stayed there with his back to Tony before he turned his head. “Tony.”
Tony looked up, and noted how Steve's expression had changed. Not much. Just enough.
“Don't.”
Tony's eyebrows rose. “Don't what?”
Steve looked at him for a long moment, and for once, he didn't have an immediate answer. His eyes dropped briefly, then returned to Tony's, something almost like amusement touched his expression.
“Nothing.”
And then he walked away.
The doors slid shut behind him, and Tony remained still. He looked down at the tablet in his hands, then at the closed doors, and a slow smile began to pull at his mouth.
“Oh.”
Because Steve definitely remembered. He hadn't forgotten the photo, hadn't forgotten the conversation, and, more importantly, hadn't forgotten Tony asking him not to act upset when he clearly wasn't.
And judging by the way he'd looked at Tony before leaving, Tony had a feeling he wasn't the only one who had been thinking about it.
By the time night settled over the Tower again, Tony had managed to convince himself that the entire thing had become significantly less important. He'd worked, he'd answered emails, he'd spent nearly an hour buried in the lab, fixing a problem with one of the suit's targeting systems that had been bothering him for weeks. He'd even managed to avoid thinking about Steve for almost twenty consecutive minutes.
It was progress.
At least, that was what Tony told himself as he sat alone on the couch in his room, one leg stretched out in front of him and his phone balanced loosely in his hand.
The Tower was quieter at night. Most of the team had disappeared to their rooms hours ago, leaving only the occasional footsteps somewhere down the hallway and the distant hum of the elevators moving between floors.
Tony stared at his phone. He wasn't waiting for anything, obviously. He just happened to have the conversation with Steve open. His thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, before he finally typed the question. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to ask, maybe he was still thinking about the way Steve had corrected him earlier, or maybe he just wanted an excuse to hear from him again.
Tony [00:03]
everyone calls you cap, what's the issue?
The typing indicator appeared almost immediately.
Steve [00:04]
Right.
Forget it.
Tony frowned at the screen. That wasn't much of an answer. If anything, it sounded like Steve had changed his mind halfway through the conversation. He stared at the last message for another second before typing back.
Tony [00:05]
okay, steve.
Tony watched the message sit there for a moment, then looked at the word seen beneath it. Steve had left him on seen, of course he had.
Tony leaned back against the couch as he muttered, phone dropping slightly in his hand as he stared at the ceiling. “Unbelievable.”
He wasn't sure whether he was annoyed that Steve had ignored him or annoyed that he'd expected Steve to answer.
His phone buzzed again, and Tony glanced down. Not Steve this time.
Pepper.
He opened the conversation, expecting something simple enough to deal with. Instead, her first message was waiting for him.
Pepper <3 [00:07]
Hello??
Tony winced slightly. Right. Pepper. He'd been so caught up in everything that had happened with Steve, and the mission of course, that he'd almost forgotten he'd left her waiting too. He unlocked the conversation properly and typed back.
Tony [00:08]
sorry, yeah.
just got a little confused for a second.
Pepper <3 [00:08]
confused? About what?
Tony stared at the question, and found his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t tell her that he'd accidentally sent Steve a picture meant for her, spent the entire day wondering whether Steve had liked it, and then proceeded to spend several hours deliberately trying to get Steve to admit that he remembered.
That sounded significantly worse when put into words.
Tony [00:09]
nothing important.
just a long mission. long day.
Pepper <3 [00:09]
you sure?
Tony leaned back against the couch and rubbed a hand over his face. There was a strange weight behind the question, even though he knew Pepper couldn't possibly know what was actually bothering him, he didn't want to lie to her. He just didn't know how to explain something he hadn't even figured out himself.
Tony [00:09]
promise.
just need to stop multitasking.
Pepper <3 [00:10]
alright, go get some rest.
Miss you.
Tony stared at the last message for a moment, and a small twist of guilt settled somewhere in his chest. Pepper didn't deserve to be dragged into whatever strange little game he'd somehow ended up playing with Steve. She'd asked for a picture, he'd sent the wrong one, and somehow that one stupid mistake had followed him around for an entire day.
His fingers moved over the keyboard, he typed something, stopped, then deleted it. He tried again, then deleted that too. Eventually, Tony locked his phone and dropped it beside him on the couch. That was it, he was done. He was going to put the phone down, go to sleep, and forget about the entire thing.
He lasted approximately thirty seconds.
The phone buzzed against his thigh, and Tony stared down at it. For half a second, he considered ignoring it, but then he saw the name.
Steve [00:11]
you should probably delete that photo.
Tony went completely still. He read the message once, then again, and a quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped him as he leaned his head back against the couch. Of course. Of course that was what Steve had decided to say. Not goodnight, not forget about earlier, not even some boring comment about the mission. But the photo.
Tony unlocked his phone again. He'd deleted it hours ago, almost immediately after their first conversation had ended, actually. He'd gone through his camera roll, found it, deleted it, then checked his recently deleted folder twice just to make absolutely certain it was gone. Not because Steve had asked him to, but because Tony had been mortified.
Tony [00:12]
already did.
The response came quickly enough that Tony barely had time to lower his phone.
Steve [00:12]
good.
Just send me the reports when you get the chance.
The right reports.
Tony's eyebrows lifted, because there it was again, the little jab. His mouth twitched despite himself as he read the last line again. Steve really couldn't resist, apparently.
Tony [00:13]
i thought you wanted me to forget about it.
This time, the response didn't come immediately. Tony watched the screen, three dots appeared, then disappeared. He shifted slightly on the couch, his attention fixed on those three little dots as though they might somehow tell him what Steve was thinking. Finally, a message appeared.
Steve [00:14]
What?
Tony frowned, because he knew Steve knew exactly what he meant. Still, he spelled it out.
Tony [00:14]
the picture.
There was another pause before Steve brought himself to answer.
Steve [00:15]
Right. I do.
Tony's smile faded slightly as he stared at the exchange. If Steve wanted him to forget about it, then why had he brought it up again? The question sat there, obvious and irritating. Tony's thumb hovered over the keyboard, and he knew he probably shouldn't ask, but he asked anyway.
Tony [00:15]
then why do you keep bringing it up?
The typing indicator appeared almost immediately.
Steve [00:15]
Tony.
Just drop it already.
Tony leaned farther back into the couch at the texts. There was something about the response that caught him off guard. It wasn't angry, he didn’t think it was. If anything, it sounded almost tired. Like Steve was trying very hard to put something back into a box that Tony kept insisting on opening. Which, naturally, made Tony want to open it again.
He stared at the screen for another second before a small smile returned to his face.
Tony [00:16]
that doesn’t sound very convincing, cap.
The response came almost instantly.
Steve [00:16]
Steve.
Tony's mouth twitched again. He'd said it last night, he'd said it this morning, and apparently Steve was still determined to correct him every single time. Tony looked at the single word for a moment before typing.
Tony [00:17]
right.
well, steve, you dont sound convincing.
The typing indicator appeared, Tony waited, just for it to disappear for a moment.
Steve [00:18]
Don’t.
Tony's eyebrows rose as he settled deeper into the couch, phone balanced loosely in one hand.
Tony [00:18]
don’t what?
The answer took a few seconds longer.
Steve [00:18]
Make this worse.
Tony stared at the message, and he didn't immediately have something smart to say.
Make this worse.
There was something about the way Steve had phrased it that made Tony's curiosity sharpen. Worse for who? He knew he should leave it alone, but he also knew himself well enough to know that wasn't going to happen.
Tony [00:19]
oh.
was it really that bad?
The typing indicator was back instantly, then it disappeared. Tony's eyes stayed fixed on the screen as another few seconds passed. Nothing. He shifted on the cushion, suddenly much more aware of the quiet room around him. The television was off, the room was dark except for the faint light coming from the kitchen, even the Tower seemed quieter at this hour.
Then his phone buzzed.
Steve [00:20]
No.
Not at all actually.
Tony blinked while he read it once. Then again.
Not at all actually.
That wasn't what he'd expected. Steve had spent the entire day telling him to drop it. He'd been careful, controlled, almost painfully restrained. And now he'd just told Tony it hadn't been bad.
Tony sat up slightly, and his thumb moved before he could reconsider.
Tony [00:20]
what?
so then what’s the problem.
This time, Steve took longer, and Tony watched the typing indicator flicker. Disappeared, appeared again, and his stomach tightened because of it. He didn't know what he was waiting for anymore. Maybe an excuse, maybe another attempt to shut the conversation down, maybe Steve would tell him to go to sleep and leave it alone.
Instead, the message appeared.
Steve [00:22]
I don’t think I should’ve liked seeing it as much as I did.
For a solid minute, Tony didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, the glow of his phone illuminating the words he'd been trying to get out of Steve all day without ever realizing that this was what he was asking for. He read the sentence once, then again slower.
I don't think I should've liked seeing it as much as I did.
Tony's phone suddenly felt too warm in his hand, so he lowered it instantly. For several seconds, he just stared at the dark television across the room, trying to make sense of what he'd just read. Steve had liked it, not accidentally, not in the way Tony had been joking about all day. He'd liked seeing it, and apparently, he'd liked it enough that he'd spent the entire day trying not to admit it.
Tony looked back down at his phone. The message was still there.
He locked the screen, then almost immediately unlocked it again. The words hadn't changed, obviously, and Tony swallowed thickly. For once, there wasn't a joke waiting at the back of his mind. No smart comment, no easy way to turn the conversation around and make it harmless.
Because Steve had just admitted something. Not outright, but enough. Enough for Tony to understand what he'd been avoiding all day. Steve had liked it, and somehow that was far more terrifying than the picture had ever been.
Tony stared at the screen again.
I don't think I should've liked seeing it as much as I did.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but nothing came.
For the first time since this whole thing had started, Tony had absolutely no idea what to say.