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“Have you seen the orange juice?”
There was no response.
He continued rifling through the contents of the fridge, shoving past the precariously tall stack of yogurt labelled with Sam’s name, and the questionable leftovers that had clearly been there too long to still be edible. Those were probably Clint’s. Steve considered tossing them, but knowing Clint, he’d throw a fit about someone touching his food, even if it was about a week past date.
“Typical,” Steve muttered into the depths of the communal fridge. Tony was barely awake at noon most days. So why was he up so early, and on a Saturday of all things? He was usually in his workshop at all hours of the night, and slept in until the last possible moment.
“Never mind, I found it!”
Still no response.
Steve grabbed the half-empty jug from the middle shelf in the fridge and poured it into a tall glass. He wasn’t quite ready for a meal this early, so juice would have to suffice. Gathering up the cup and the newspaper that had been delivered, Steve made his way to the living room, planning to catch up on local events and see how the Dodgers’ season was going so far.
His hair was rumpled, still a little messy from sleep, and he was wearing his comfiest pajama bottoms. The ones with stripes that he’d had ever since he’d woken up from the near-70 year rest. They were getting old, holes in one of the pockets, and there was a little grease stain on the side from a day he’d forgotten about the bacon cooking and had to keep it from catching fire. But he loved these pants. They reminded him of a simpler time, and were one of the first things he’d ever owned in modern day.
As he entered the living room, Steve saw Tony still settled into the plush chair, reading. He looked awful, to be honest. Like he hadn’t slept for days. This was no strange occurrence for him, but it was especially bad this morning. The bags under his eyes were becoming an odd shade of purple, and Steve didn’t know when he’d last eaten. He hadn’t seen Tony come out of his workshop for days. He was used to Tony’s bouts of obsessiveness. Hell, they all were. But this one seemed different.
Tony didn’t look up when Steve entered, instead he turned the page of his book as his eyes rapidly scanned the text. Steve couldn’t see what he was reading, but he’d never known Tony to be an avid reader. He’d usually teased Steve and Nat for being so excited about whatever fantasy series they were into at the time.
This was weird.
“Hey there, you okay?” Steve gave a little wave with his hand holding the newspaper to get Tony’s attention. It took a couple seconds, but the dark haired man finally looked up.
A moment of panic flashed across Tony’s face. Steve grinned, amused that Tony hadn’t noticed him before, and asked “What are you reading? You seemed really into it.”
Tony slammed the book covers closed, obscuring the title with his broad hands.
“Just some research for an idea I’m developing. Really technical, jargon-y stuff. Even I’m having a hard time getting through it.” He frowned and looked away, as if he was embarrassed to admit he couldn’t understand the text.
It would have been believable, if not for the red flush rising up from his neck into his cheeks. It was pretty adorable, Steve had to admit.
Tony was a decent liar, and smart enough to think on the spot, but Steve knew his face well enough to immediately pick up on the ruddiness blooming on his skin. Something was up. Tony Stark was not a blusher.
Steve had to sip his juice to hide the smile forming again on his lips. “What kind of project?” He had never been very good at keeping a straight face, and now was no different.
Tony froze for a second. Even his breath seemed to have halted. He looked up at Steve, and then shoved the book behind the chair he was sitting in. “Just suit stuff. Trying to improve the thruster output for my jets. It’s not quite as efficient as I’d like.” Again, that would have seemed perfectly reasonable, except he’d set the book into a plant pot behind him. Tony was fiercely protective of his stuff, especially if it was related to his work. He’d once griped for days when Bruce had accidentally spilled coffee on some of his notes. He’d banned anyone from bringing food or drinks into his workshop ever since.
So why was he being so careless with this book?
Tony didn’t waste a second, “Hey, didn’t you say you’d help Clint with setting up his outdoor target practice? I think I heard him get up a while ago, you should probably go help him with that, you gotta deliver on your promises, Steve. That’s what Captain America is all about, right? Keeping promises. Gotta get a move on!”
He was straight up rambling now, his usual collected charm totally gone. There was a wild look in his eyes and he seemed anxious to get Steve out of the room.
Steve nodded his head, confused by Tony’s insistence. “Yeah, but we’re not starting setup until 10, I figured I’d catch up on the news and make some breakfast in a bit. Do you want me to make you some?”
“Yes! Bacon and eggs would be great. Why don’t you start on it and I’ll go get changed?” Tony sniffed at his shirt, “I’m pretty sure I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days.”
“Yeah, we’d given up on asking about that a long time ago,” Steve said, still trying in vain to hide his laugh.
Tony looked embarrassed, and then collected himself. “All the more reason to, then! Now get on with it! I haven’t eaten for at least 30 hours and I’m starving. I want that Rogers’ famous All-American Breakfast.”
He was pushing Steve towards the door. Literally pushing him into the kitchen. Whatever suspicion Steve had previously had was immediately confirmed. Tony was hiding something.
He realized Tony wasn’t going to back down, and even though he could have easily overpowered him, Steve sighed and resigned himself to making breakfast. Better to drop it now and ask Tony about this later. He clearly wasn’t getting anywhere.
Making breakfast was an intensive process. Most of the team usually forwent eating in the morning. But whenever Steve offered to cook, they came out of the woodwork and everyone wanted seconds. He decided on bacon and eggs like Tony had asked, along with biscuits, toast, and fruit salad.
Tony had disappeared pretty quickly after Steve entered the kitchen, presumably to shower and change like he’d said. And about halfway into the cooking process, Sam and Nat had wandered into the kitchen and offered to help.
“Has Tony seemed weird to you guys?” Steve had to raise his voice a little to be heard over the sizzling bacon.
“Weird how?” Nat called back, her eyes still focused on the peaches she was chopping.
“Tony’s always weird,” Sam piped in. “The man hardly sleeps and I swear, one night I came in here to get some water and he was just standing there, in front of the fridge. Didn’t say anything to me, didn’t even open the fridge, just stood there for a minute, and then walked away.”
Nat laughed, and said “Sounds like Tony. I don’t know how he functions with so little sleep.”
Steve frowned. Tony had always been a little obsessive when it came to his work. Okay, a lot. But usually it in went in cycles. He’d stay up for a few days on a quest to perfect whatever his current project was, and then they wouldn’t see him for a day or two while he slept off the exhaustion.
“It seems especially bad. He was up at 6 am reading some book, didn’t even notice me talking to him, and then he freaked out and tried to hide it. But you know Tony, he made it seem like everything was fine. If I didn’t know him so well I probably would have thought everything was normal.”
Natasha and Sam shared a look behind Steve’s back.
Steve continued, “I’m just worried about him. He seemed so out of it. When was the last time he slept? What do you guys think?”
“Tony’s fine. He has his phases, but he gets over them,” Sam reassured.
Steve grunted in response, and then said “I hope so.”
His teammates each offered noncommittal platitudes and they went back to cooking.
By the time the food was ready to be plated, everyone else had shown up. Even Tony, fresh from the shower with clean clothes and water droplets in his dark locks. The sight made Steve’s breath stutter. ‘How does he manage to clean up so well?’ Steve thought to himself. He had to shake his head to clear the thought. ‘He’s Tony. He’s not into you like that. He’s not into any guy like that.’
They ate, everyone eager to fill up, and Steve found his eyes wandering to Tony. He seemed back to normal; teasing Rhodey about his date the night before, and asking Bruce for advice on one of his projects.
Steve couldn’t stop thinking about how good Tony looked. He was clearly still tired, but his face lit up when he laughed at something Thor said. And then there was the way his shirt hugged his shoulders. It made his stomach feel warm and tight and nervous. Steve knew this kind of thinking was self-destructive. They were friends and coworkers, and nothing else.
After the meal, Bruce and Clint offered to clean up. Tony had vanished almost immediately, mumbling about needing to talk to JARVIS about something. Everyone else dispersed into different parts of the compound.
Steve briefly considered going for a run, but he was far too full to manage that. No, he decided. He’d finally sit and read the paper like he’d planned.
The living room was dark and peaceful. Steve settled onto the couch, eager to find out about the results of a local election. He finished that story, then one about proposed school bus drivers’ salary increases. And then one about a hit and run that happened in broad daylight.
Normally he’d be fully invested in whatever he was reading. It was one of the things he’d preserved from his old life—sitting in the morning to read the paper. But something was stuck in the back of his mind. A distraction that wouldn’t go away.
The pink book.
He hadn’t seen the cover very well, but it was a deep shade of pink, almost red. It was an odd color choice for a technical manual, and by this point Steve seriously doubted that’s what it actually was. He’d seen glimpses of an illustration on the cover.
It was a shame Tony had hurried him out of the living room so quickly. He was dying to know what Tony was actually reading.
But he’d shoved it in the planter and pushed Steve out of the room.
‘Come to think of it, Tony rushed out pretty much right after me.’ Steve mulled over. ‘There’s no way he forgot—’
And then Steve was leaping off of the couch, not really thinking about what his body was doing. It was all instinct. He bounded towards the chair, and peered over it into the darkness of the potted tree.
The pink book lay in the pot, one of its’ corners shoved into the dirt. It clearly hadn’t been disturbed since Tony had thrust it so unceremoniously into the plant.
Steve’s hands trembled slightly as he reached for the book. He couldn’t believe Tony had forgotten it, but he hadn’t been acting at all like himself at the time. He’d clearly been too preoccupied on getting away from Steve.
He grasped onto the edge of the hardcover and pulled it out, careful not to spill dirt on the carpeted floor.
Tony would be livid if he knew Steve was touching his things, but he’d also been the one to hide it in a planter pot, so Steve decided that balanced it out.
Still, he crouched behind the chair, just in case someone happened to walk by and take an interest in what he was looking at.
He finally looked down, eyes going wide as he read the title.
‘The Lusty Billionaire’s Highland Werewolf Lord, Vol. 26 of The Lusty Billionaire Series’
The cover had a lurid illustration of two men embracing. There was a brawny shirtless man in a kilt, with flowing blonde hair and a rugged beard. And the other one was smaller, more slender with short cut dark hair, a sleek collared shirt and slacks. His ass was incredible. They were clearly caught in a moment of passion.
Steve was speechless and could feel the heat rising in his face.
And then he broke into a huge grin. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
Maybe he had a chance after all.
He’d always assumed Tony was straight. They all had. The years of being a self-proclaimed playboy had sealed that reputation. Steve had seen numerous tabloid articles about his girls of the week, always thin and gorgeous, with long flowing hair. He seemed particularly fond of redheads.
Granted, ever since he’d gotten serious about Iron Man, Tony didn’t seem to have any interest in that old lifestyle. But Steve assumed that was just him growing up. He knew Tony and Pepper were a couple at some point, but had never asked too many questions about what happened in the end. At the time it all seemed too personal to ask a coworker.
Now Steve was kicking himself for not taking more of an interest. When he first met Tony he hadn’t cared much for him. And then, over time he learned more about the man under the suit. He caught glimpses of what Tony’s childhood had been like. The absent billionaire father and his mother who was trying her best to keep the family together. Tony had basically been raised by his butler. It was no surprise he’d named JARVIS after the only person who’d really looked out for him.
And Steve saw the man he was now. Self-sacrificing. Generous. Deeply loyal. Those were all things he admired about Tony. Things that made him so attracted to him.
Plus he was damn gorgeous. Even his cocky smile when he knew he was right about something made Steve feel warm heat rise in his cheeks. He’d spent months trying to deny it, but seeing the book Tony had been reading lit a fire within him. Steve had thought he didn’t have a chance, but this proved otherwise.
He probably wasn’t Tony’s type, but something in his head told him he had to at least try. That he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it if he didn’t.
This was probably all going to crash and burn, and everyone else on the team would have a good laugh at him over it. But he had to try. Tony was too important to not try for.
But how in the world would he make this happen?
He couldn’t imagine telling Tony outright. That was far too intense and frankly embarrassing if Tony shot him down. And no way would he tell him he knew about the book. Tony would never admit that he read raunchy gay romance novels. Let alone 26 of them, if Steve’s assumption that he was an avid fan of the series was correct.
No, he needed something more subtle. But maybe the book series wasn’t a bad starting point. It would give him an idea about what Tony was into. Give him the opportunity to get into his head a little.
So Steve decided to do some research. He left the book where he’d found it, taking care to nestle the dirt-stained corner back into the potted soil, and went up to his room to use the computer, leaving the newspaper half-crumpled on the couch.
He found a set of the first ten books in the series on Amazon and ordered them to be delivered to the Compound. Sam had been teaching him to use modern technology over the past couple of years, and two-day shipping was a revelation to Steve.
He did a little poking around on the internet and found a blurb about the author, A. Cachette. They were pretty private about their life, but they’d been writing the Lusty Billionaire series for about 7 years, and had a very dedicated fanbase.
Steve discovered that the series followed two men, Sawyer and Tristan who were under an evil curse. Tristan, the dark haired one, had been a hotshot Billionaire who had reneged on a business deal with a sorcerer and was now forced to live different lifetimes, trying to find a way to break the curse. The blonde, Sawyer, had been his biggest competition in his old life, and had been unlucky enough to be within the blast radius of the curse. Each book took place in a different universe, always with a big overarching genre theme.
The first book, The Lusty Billionaire and the Reluctant Botanist had been such a breakout success that the author had signed on to a massive book deal.
Steve wasn’t very familiar with Romance novels, usually preferring swords and spells over descriptions of throbbing tumesences, but he had to admit that the series sounded fun, and maybe even a little bit sexy.
There was something about enemies being forced to work together that made Steve’s heart flutter. And if they just so happened to be astonishingly handsome and gay, so be it.
The next two days were relatively unremarkable. He helped Clint set up his outside archery range, and then helped move everything about 20 feet over after he’d decided the mid-morning glare was breaking through the trees too much at the original setup spot.
Steve had noticed the book was gone that afternoon, and Tony along with it. It looked like he’d been about halfway through it this morning, and Steve figured he was holed up in his room, eagerly finishing the second half of the novel. It was distracting, knowing what Tony was reading about, but he tried his best to act normal and not let himself get too antsy about when his books would be delivered.
When he finally received the email notification that his package had come, Steve scrambled down to where the incoming mail was collected, and grabbed up the parcel. It took a lot of willpower to not rip into the packaging on his way back to his room, but he remembered that anyone could walk by and see what he’d ordered. It was easier to open it in private than risk Natasha or Sam prying into things.
He closed the door to his bedroom, making sure to double check the lock, just in case, and then tore into the box, pulling out the ten-book collection. Each cover had a sensual moment illustrated on it, and the artist had done an excellent job portraying that book’s theme. Volume 8, The Lusty Billionaire and the Secret Librarian was especially sultry, and Steve secretly looked forward to reading that one.
He nestled into his bed, turned on the lamp next to him, and cracked open the first book.
‘This is just for research,’ he told himself. ‘I just need to find out what kind of guy he’s interested in.’
That research morphed into Steve spending all night curled up in bed, devouring the first three books. They were hot. And funny. And Steve found himself relating quite a bit to the earnest, practical Sawyer. He had never meant to get caught up in a torrid love affair with Tristan, but Sawyer couldn’t help himself.
And if Steve was being totally honest with himself, he’d imagined Tony during all those love scenes. Tristan was fiery and enigmatic. He was a passionate lover and more than a little kinky. Steve had found the dining room scene at the end of book two especially enthralling.
He finally glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 11:37 pm. He’d been reading for 11 hours. Had anyone even noticed he was missing?
Rubbing at his eyes, he got out of bed and shuffled to the door.
It wouldn’t open.
He’d forgotten that it was locked. He’d been reading those books so long that he hadn’t even remembered that.
He had skipped lunch and dinner, and it was catching up to him. Steve decided to remedy that, and shuffled towards the kitchen. He was contemplating what would happen in the next volume. Would Tristan find a way to make it up to Sawyer? And what about Brock, the curse specialist who had been introduced in the third book? Steve had a feeling that the author would try to use that to create tension between the men in book 4.
Steve was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t see Tony rounding the corner and crashed into him. There was a clattering on the tile floor, and when Steve looked down, he saw Volume 28: ‘The Lusty Billionaire and the Spectral Professor’.
Tony had apparently been reading while walking and hadn’t seen him either. He paled, and then hurriedly bent to grab his book.
But Steve was faster. He snatched up the book, and without thinking, examined the cover. Sawyer was wearing a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches and horn-rimmed glasses, while Tristan clutched a stack of textbooks in between them.
Tony sputtered, making another grab for the hardcover book, and Steve couldn’t help but give him a sheepish grin as he handed it over.
“You like that series too, huh?” Steve could feel the pink rising in his cheeks.
“Uhm, uh, yeah, I guess.” Tony was looking anywhere but at Steve. “They’re silly, but they make the time pass.”
Steve could hear the lie in Tony’s voice. He was clearly mortified, and trying to save face.
“Say, what did you think about the chapter in book 3 where they have to create that time loop?” Steve looked at Tony, eagerly awaiting his reply.
Tony’s eyes widened as he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I don’t really remember them all that much--,” his voice trailed off.
This was decidedly un-Tony-like. Steve frowned. Where was the confident, cocky man he knew?
“Uh, gotta go. JARVIS is waiting on me for his systems diagnostics.” And in a beat Tony was gone, halfway down the hallway back to his workshop.
Steve blinked after him, in shock about everything that had just happened. Had he really just admitted to Tony that he’d read the books? This plan was already off the rails before it had even begun.
But Tony hadn’t denied that he’d read the series. Sure, he’d tried to downplay it, but he hadn’t denied it.
And that cover art was lingering in Steve’s thoughts. There might be something there, maybe.
Steve spent the next day curled up on the living room couch, working his way through books 4 and 5. Book 5 had dragged a little, and the side plot involving Brock was funny, but a distraction from what he really wanted to read about: Tristan and Sawyer.
He had hoped that Tony would venture out and spot him reading the series. Maybe he’d be more willing to discuss their shared interest now that he’d had some time to process it.
But Tony had been just as absent as usual. Everyone else assumed he was obsessing over something mechanical, but Steve knew differently.
He managed to catch Tony’s eye when he’d wandered into the kitchen to grab lunch. He gave a friendly wave and a nod. Tony looked weary, but offered a small smile in return. It made Steve feel a glimmer of hope that he hadn’t completely ruined things. Tony had smiled a little brighter when he noticed the book in Steve’s hands.
He collected his food and left the kitchen, leaving Steve wishing he’d said something. Steve was tired of these tiny interactions. He wanted Tony all to himself. He knew that was presumptive, but maybe he needed to be a little more like Sawyer. He needed to be proactive, because Tony didn’t seem aware of message Steve was trying to send him.
This was going to require a costume change.
The next morning, he sifted through his closet, past his blue and red uniforms, and the modern jeans and henleys he’d taken to wearing on days off. He knew there were some sweaters stashed in the back, along with the button ups he’d preferred when he’d first awoken from the ice. They had been a source of comfort in this new century, something that felt familiar and safe. But over time he’d started feeling out of place in starched collars and wool. It was easier to blend in, not draw quite so much attention to his unusual circumstances.
Steve was glad he’d saved them though. He’d kept meaning to donate them some day, but they were exactly what he needed.
He pulled out a crisp blue dress shirt, along with a deep grey wool sweater. He dug around a little more and found a wool necktie that he’d always loved.
This was perfect. He wanted to dress the part of a nerdy professor, and what better than a tweedy 1940’s inspired look?
He tried on the outfit, choosing some khaki slacks to complete the outfit, and was stunned at the man reflected back at him. Steve hadn’t seen this version of himself in quite some time, and it was a good look. He felt sexy, even.
He hoped Tony would think so.
He glanced one last time in the mirror, adjusting his tie, and left to go have breakfast.
Clint and Bruce were camped out in the kitchen, looking groggy and bemused when they spotted Steve.
“Whoa, what’s with the elbow patches, Cap?” There was a sudden gleam in Clint’s eye that made Steve uncomfortable.
Bruce glanced again at Steve and said, “His sweater doesn’t have elbow patches,” before returning his focus to his large mug of coffee.
Clint rolled his eyes, and sighed exaggeratedly. “You know what I mean. You look like you’re ready to go to a sock hop. Or maybe spank me with a paddle for not paying attention in class.” He laughed at his own joke, and Steve could feel his stomach churning with anxiety.
“I uhm, I was feeling nostalgic. I got these clothes when I first came back, and I miss wearing them sometimes.” Steve felt like he was stuttering, like he couldn’t get the words out right.
Clint gave him an easy smile, kind and calming. “Take it easy, I was just fucking with you, man. It’s different, but it works for you somehow. I like it.”
Steve could feel his insides relaxing. He could do this. He had to do this. It would be okay.
He made it through breakfast with minimal commentary on his wardrobe choices, even after Sam and Nat came back from their morning run. Sam seemed more preoccupied with the fact that Steve hadn’t been joining them recently.
“It’s just so unlike you, man. You used to drag my ass out of bed at 4 am on Sundays just to get to the trails before sunrise,” Sam insisted.
Steve shrugged in response. “I just haven’t felt like it recently. Besides, it’s good to take a break every once in a while. I’ll be back to lapping you soon enough.”
That had earned him a lazy punch to the shoulder from Sam, and he breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation moved on to Rhodey’s new love interest. Nat was being especially nosy about finding out who she was.
He helped clean up afterwards, setting the dishwasher to run its cycle, and then realized everyone else had plans for the day. His only plans were to try to run into Tony, but it didn’t seem likely. They hadn’t heard from him all morning.
Steve ended up hovering outside Tony’s bedroom door, trying to pace as quietly as he could. He felt ridiculous and self conscious, and was debating giving up to go read volume 6, when he heard a crash coming from the opposite hallway, along with a long stream of curses.
Instinctively, he ran towards the commotion, his mind ruling out different possibilities for what could have caused such a loud noise. He found himself in front of Tony’s workshop, and could hear the creative and crude words Tony was spouting. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but then there was another clattering, and Steve was worried Tony had hurt himself.
He burst through the door, searching the cluttered room for any sign of Tony, and spotted him lying on the floor, on his back. Tony was glaring at the Iron Man suit hoisted above him in the air, and threw his wrench on the concrete floor, muttering about metal parts being ungrateful.
Steve stilled, it seemed like Tony was perfectly safe, albeit frustrated, and he was about to turn to leave when Tony noticed him.
He was surprised, clearly. And then he took in Steve’s outfit and his frown turned to an open mouthed gape. He blinked up at Steve, and it almost looked like a flush was forming on his neck and cheeks.
Steve did his best to smile confidently down at Tony, the anxiety creeping back into his gut. “I heard all that noise and thought you’d been hurt. I should have known better.”
Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, Tony grinned and shrugged. “This new suit is trying to talk back to me, so to speak. I’m upgrading the repulsors, but the parts aren’t fitting together the way they should. You probably heard one of the engines falling on my face.”
Steve grimaced, and noticed the thin line of blood running down Tony’s temple, “That looks like it hurts.” Without thinking, he crossed the distance between them and crouched down to examine the wound.
Tony’s eyes widened, wincing as Steve gently touched the spot he’d been hit, and Steve was suddenly very aware of how close he was. He could smell the musk of Tony’s expensive cologne, mixed with engine grease and probably a little sweat. It should have been gross, but instead it smelled comforting. It made him feel safe. It was the smell he dreamed about sometimes, as he dozed off after a long day of Avengers missions. It was Tony’s smell.
Steve looked around for a clean cloth, and lightly dabbed at the blood on Tony’s temple. Tony, to his credit, didn’t complain, even through Steve was sure it stung.
“We should get you cleaned up. It’s not a deep wound, but it still needs to be bandaged.” Steve hoped desperately that he wasn’t overstepping.
Tony grinned up at him, and replied “You wouldn’t want my gorgeous face to be ruined.”
And Steve’s breath hitched, warmth spreading in waves. “Something like that,” he managed to mutter back.
Tony let Steve guide him to one of the shared bathrooms, where they kept first aid supplies. Steve set to work, focused on cleaning the wound and dressing it, while Tony took in his outfit, clearly fascinated by the style choice.
At one point Steve half-thought Tony was going to reach out to touch the soft fabric of his sweater, but Tony kept his hands to himself.
When he had finished cleaning up the mess, Steve straightened up, and looked at Tony properly for the first time in so many minutes. He tried to crack a smile, and told him, “By god, I think he’ll live to see another day.”
That made Tony let out a huff of surprised laughter. “Who knew Capsicle had a sense of humor?”
“You were always too busy talking to notice”
“I guess so,” Tony mused.
They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close they were.
As Steve turned to leave, unsure of what to say but wanting so badly to stay by Tony’s side, he felt Tony grab his arm.
“Nice outfit, Cap. It suits you. You should dress like that more often.” Tony gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, and then breezed past him, leaving Steve alone in the bathroom, mind racing with what had just happened.
And really, what had just happened? He had been lurking outside of Tony’s bedroom when he happened to hear the crash of machinery falling on Tony’s face. Not that Tony needed to know why he was conveniently close. But that moment in the bathroom had felt different. Quiet somehow. Like they weren’t Iron Man and Cap in that moment.
Just Tony and Steve.
Steve stood there a while longer, contemplating what Tony had said. ‘You should dress like that more often.’ He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he touched the worn cuff of his grey sweater.
The next morning he popped out of bed, eager to put on the outfit he’d laid out the night before. The same khakis and tie, but this time he sported a white button up and tweed blazer. He briefly paused, considering the comment Clint had made yesterday about elbow patches, but shook off his worry and focused on getting the tie knot just right. ‘Let everyone else laugh, Tony seemed to like it, and that’s all that matters,’ he told himself.
Steve opened his door, hopeful that he’d be gifted another Tony sighting today, and immediately collided into something firm and fabric covered. A book clattered to the floor, and as he bent to pick it up, his hand brushed against another hand. Tony’s hand, to be exact. Steve’s eyes darted up, and he could easily read the look of embarrassment on his face.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Tony made a half-hearted attempt at a smile as he spoke.
Steve gulped, heart hammering in his chest, “Or, or at least coordinate better for when we do run into each other. It’s probably hell on these hard covers.” He hoped Tony didn’t notice the way his hand shook as he handed the book to him. Or the way his eyes lingered on the cover. Volume 29: The Lusty Billionaire and The Christmas Lumberjack.
Tony shot him a guilty glance, shrugged his shoulders and finally spoke again. “They get snowed in at a Christmas tree farm for the holidays. The beginning is a little trite, but there’s plenty of late nights next to fireplace so far. And the innkeeper is the same as in the volume where Tristan is a highwayman who accidentally robs Sawyer’s coach. It’s a nice little touch.”
Steve realized he was still holding on to the book, and released his grip, a wave of anxiety washing over him. “I always like the little references and cameos the author puts in. You can tell they care about the continuity of the series. It makes me think that the Goblin King from book 6 will make another appearance. It’d be a wasted opportunity to not bring him back.”
Tony laughed, the sound growing from a tentative chuckle to something real, and warm. “You’re not wrong. You’ll just have to wait a while. He comes back in the one where they have to slay a dragon. I think it’s number 17?”
“Spoilers!” Steve blurted out, jokingly covering his ears.
That just made Tony laugh even harder. “My apologies, I’ll try to remember next time. Let me know when you get to The Reticent Vampire, will you though? I have strong opinions about some decisions Sawyer made and I want to hear your take on it.
Steve nodded and could feel his ears turning pink. “Will do. And Tony?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I could borrow number 11? The boxed set I bought only has 1 through 10, and I’d really rather not have to wait a couple of days to find out what happens next.”
Tony’s grin was sunshine to Steve, he let it wash over him, basking in how good it felt to be the center of his attention.
“Sure, Steve, I’d be happy to lend it to you, and the ones that come after it. Just let me know when you’re ready for the next one.”
The next few weeks passed, with Steve paying eager attention to what book Tony was working his way through, and trying his best to subtly adjust the way he dressed to match it. The spy attire had been a little more challenging to pull off, but he settled for extra tactical gear on missions and a sleek black robe when he was lounging in the living room. If Tony had noticed anything was different, he didn’t comment on it, other than the occasional “You look good today,” accompanied with a quick nod of approval.
Steve would show up at Tony’s workshop every couple of days to trade his finished volume for the next. He supposed Tony could have given him a whole stack of the next books, but he was secretly grateful for the excuse to see Tony at least a couple times a week outside of missions. And it made sense, Tony had always been protective of his personal items. It was a wonder he’d been so willing to lend Steve the books at all after the Bruce workshop incident, but Steve was thankful for it.
He wondered sometimes if the others had noticed. Steve, who was usually quite social had taken to silently curling up in a chair in the living room with his current book. It just so happened to be the chair Tony had been reading in that very first day. But hey, it was an excellent chair for reading late into the night.
Occasionally Tony would emerge out of his workshop to lay on the couch and read. Steve always loved those peaceful afternoons. Even though they were in their own little worlds, he felt connected. He loved being able to turn to Tony and ask him about a plot hole or laugh about a funny line. It reminded him of that day in the bathroom, weeks before. It was quiet. It was just them, just Tony and Steve.
Eventually, Steve caught up to all the books that had been published so far. He’d been working his way tirelessly through them, eager to find out what happened next in the adventures of Tristan and Sawyer. If he happened to imagine that it was him and Tony traveling the multiverse on a quest to rid themselves of an evil curse, all the while falling more and more in love with each other, then that was his business. No one else needed to know.
When he finally closed the pages on the most current book, he felt a pang of sadness. He’d grown to really love and care about these two idiots in love.
‘I guess I’ll just have to go back to being myself again,’ Steve thought to himself. ‘No more lumberjack or explorer or suave billionaire identity to channel anymore. Just me.’
That pang of sadness turned into longing. He wished he hadn’t tried something so silly. Tony hardly even seemed to notice these days. The first couple of times Steve had worn something outside of his comfort zone, Tony had clearly looked puzzled, but he’d reserved his usual snarky comments. Now he didn’t blink twice at it, and it made Steve a little sad.
He’d hoped Tony would catch on. The man was a genius after all, but he seemed to have better things to pay attention to than the fact that one week Steve would show up in a sleek suit to exchange his finished book, and the next he’d be in something comfy and casual.
The rest of the team had been surprisingly quiet on the matter as well. At first he’d been terrified that they’d catch on to his foolish plan, but short of a couple of jokes about Steve playing dress up, they seemed to shrug it off. They probably assumed he was trying to figure out how to fit in in the modern world.
Steve set the book on the living room coffee table, staring long and hard at it, before retreating to his room to change.
A blue t-shirt that was probably a little too tight, but showed off his impeccable muscles and classic blue jeans. This was him. This was his comfort zone. After trying on so many different versions of himself, Steve let out of huff of relief to be back to his old clothes. Though he might keep the cardigan that Tony had said brought out the blue in his eyes in rotation. Scratch that, he would never get rid of that one.
He slipped out of his bedroom, padding back to the living room to retrieved the book. Thankfully it was undisturbed. Steve picked it up, fingers drumming on the spine, and he walked to Tony’s workshop, intent on returning it.
When he reached the doorway, he gave a quick knock, expecting a response. When none came, he peered in through the opening. That was odd. Tony always kept the door closed.
He looked around, disappointed that Tony was seemingly elsewhere, but then at the last minute he spotted a familiar socked foot sticking out from under a workbench.
“Tony?” He called out hesitantly.
“Mhmm,” was Tony’s absent-minded reply.
“Can I come in, I just wanted to return this last book.”
“Mhmmm.”
Steve shouldered the rest of the door open, eyes crinkling when he saw Tony, stretched out under the workbench, staring up at the underside of it. He’d assumed Tony was working on something fiddly and mechanical. But no, he was just staring into space, eyes half-glazed.
It was peculiar to see Tony so still. He was used to the near-manic obsession that usually possessed him.
“Just trying to work out the math for a new prototype that’s resisting being built,” he said by way of an explanation.
Steve smiled down at him, “Don’t most people sit at a desk or stand at a white board to work through math problems?”
“Yes, but I’m not most people, and this is not most math problems. So an unusual problem requires an unconventional solution.” Tony’s eyes flickered up to meet Steve’s and he felt his pulse quicken.
“I see,” Steve mused, crouching down to be closer to Tony, whose eyes looked dreamy and far off. “Mind if I join you? I don’t have any math to sort out, but I’m feeling a little washed ashore after that last book. The author left it so open-ended.”
“They like to do that, leave a cliffhanger that makes us wonder if Tristan and Sawyer will really end up together. It’s part of the appeal I guess?” Tony gave him a gentle smile, his eyes focusing on Steve’s for the first time since they’d started talking. He patted the empty space on the ground next to him, and Steve took it as an invitation to sit on the floor, his back against another workbench.
“Do you think they will? End up together, I mean. Obviously they love each other, and they’ve… well they’ve proven that they get along well when they need to,” Steve suddenly felt far too warm in this cold, industrial room. “But do you think they’ll have a happy ending?”
“That’s tough to say, do any of us really get perfect, happy endings?” Tony mused.
Steve’s heart was pounding, “I want to believe so. I want to believe that at least some of us will.”
“Me too,” Tony’s soft smile deepened when he finally took in Steve’s outfit. “You’re back to being you.” He sounded mildly surprised. “I always did like that shirt.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. it feels like the real you. Not the Cap you, or the Steve Rogers the media knows. The real you.”
“I didn’t think you liked the real me,” Steve could feel something just shy of electricity running through his veins.
Tony barked out a laugh, “I didn’t used to. But then again I get the impression I was the same way for you.”
Steve bumped him playfully with his foot. “Only a little. So what changed?”
“I think we did?”
“We changed,” he repeated back softly.
“Did you decide the flannel and tweed weren’t you?” Tony asked, curiosity clear in his tone.
Steve glanced down at Tony again. His mouth was just slightly parted, looking innocent and sinful all at the same time. Steve wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “Something like that. I thought it would be fun to be someone else for a while. Quite a few someone elses. But it never quite felt right. It was like I was wearing a costume, hoping if I looked the part I could be the person I wanted to be. Doesn’t work that easily I guess.” He couldn’t stop staring at Tony, shame filling his insides,
“I like this version of you best,” Tony said, eyes fluttering closed. He shifted on his side, opening his eyes again to peer up at Steve.
They kept still for a few moments, neither daring to move or shift their sight away from the other. Tony licked his lips, and then suddenly he was pushing himself up, palms pressed firmly on the hard cold floor, and he was kissing Steve, and it was incredible.
Warm and soft and so so right. Steve closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss, all pretense and anxiety washing away. This was just him and Tony, doing what they’d been destined to do for a long time. He deepened the kiss, chasing after the warmth and wetness that was Tony’s mouth, and as he brought a hand up to cup the back of Tony’s head, he could hear the moan Tony let out, full of pleasure and want and need. He never wanted to stop hearing that noise. A sound just for him. A sound he’d made happen.
Eventually they broke away, each gasping a little for air. Their cheeks were flushed and neither could help but grin at the other, happy and shy and excited all at once.
“Holy shit,” Steve blurted out.
“Language.” was Tony’s cheerful response.
They stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say.
“So that was,” Tony finally spoke.
“A long time coming.”
“A long time indeed.”
And then they were kissing again, laughing and exploring the feel of each other’s bodies. And it was exactly what Steve had hoped this would be like. Maybe even better.
He’d lost track of time by the time they finally broke apart for good, clothes and hair rumpled, lips swollen and red from the effort.
They hadn’t done more than make out, but it was enough, for now. Steve figured they’d have a lot more time to figure out the rest.
“So the books, huh?” Tony asked as they walked to the door of his workshop, clearly trying to sound casual. “Did you start reading them before or after that morning in the living room?”
“After,” Steve admitted reluctantly. “I may have gone back to find out what you were reading and gotten some inspiration”
Tony grinned at him, amusement playing on his face. He entwined his fingers with Steve’s.
“And the outfits?” he asked Steve.
“My pathetic attempt to get your attention,” he ducked his head, not wanting to have to admit this.
“Well it worked. Took me an embarrassing long time to catch on, but it was worth it. Besides, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that robe again someday.”
Steve laughed as he opened the door, “Is that so?”
“Very much so,” Tony paused in the open doorway to kiss Steve sweetly.
There was a clattering in the hallway, and a distinctive woman’s voice yelling, “I knew it!”
They turned to see Natasha a few feet away, a plate of food splattered on the ground. She didn’t seem to care about it, as she called out, “Sam, Clint you owe me money!”
There was a groan from what Steve assumed was the kitchen. “Fine,” Sam called out, “But I’ll have to write you a check, I’m all out of cash right now.”
“What--what are you?” Steve sputtered, glancing to Tony who looked confused, but also amused.
“I think our dear friends may have caught on a little earlier than us that we like each other, and were placing wagers on it,” Tony explained, glancing to Nat for confirmation.
She nodded, bending down to clean up the mess she’d made, “I’ve had money on this for at least a year. Honestly we were starting to get bored of it until Steve decided to play dress up. Then Bruce and Thor decided to finally get in on it. I was starting to worry you idiots would never get together. I better go tell the rest so we can sort out who owes who what.” She gave a cheerful wave, and started walking away, then called back to them, “Rhodey will be pissed. He bet it would take at least another 6 months! I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
Steve slumped into the door frame against his back, hands covering his face in embarrassment. “So much for deciding when to tell the team.”
Tony gently took his hands, pulling them back from his face. “It’s cute that you think we’d ever have a choice in that. You know them, they’re all gossip hounds, Nat and Sam especially.”
Steve let out a reluctant chuckle, “That’s true, when I first got the book set in the mail I had to lock myself in my room to read them because I knew one of them might burst into my room and catch me reading them.” He leaned down to kiss Tony, savoring how good he tasted. “Could get used to this,” he mumbled.
Tony groaned, “You can’t go quoting Sawyer lines at me, Steve, that’s not fair.”
“Who said love’s fair?” Steve grinned back.
Tony’s eyes darkened, “Now you’re just toying with me. You know I loved that scene when Tristan finally admitted he loved Sawyer.”
“Maybe,” Steve teased, “But what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going full Tristan in Number 23, taking you back to my room and having my way with you.” Tony said, leaning in close enough that Steve could feel his warm breath on his skin.
“And then maybe a little of that scene you liked so much from Number 17.”
Steve’s eyes widened, his breath catching, lust rushing through his veins. “And maybe we could finish off with that ending chapter from Number 2?”
“I think that sounds like a perfect plan,” Tony smirked up at him, pressing his body up against Steve’s in the most delicious way. “Maybe we will get that perfect ending we talked about.”