Steve Rogers tended to keep things under a tight lid. Waking up after a seventy year nap in the ice was a lot to process, and frankly, there wasn’t anyone who could possibly understand it. And mostly, he was fine with that, because everything he had to talk about was old news. Dead friends, old injuries, memories of a life stolen from him by circumstances too wild to be believed. Nothing anyone could change, or help with, really. There was one area, however, in which he realized it might actually be necessary to consult someone with more experience in such matters.
After wrapping a mission, as the team broke up and headed off to their homes, Steve took Natasha Romanov aside. “Hey uh… did Tony say anything to you about going to dinner later this week at his place?”
Natasha gave him a sidelong glance, followed by a barely perceptible shake of the head. “No, did he say he was going to?”
“No, no, I just…,” Steve cleared his throat and looked around, then lowered his voice. “I’m not sure if Tony just asked me out on a date.”
She met his gaze, her face remaining absolutely inscrutable. “Do you want it to be a date?”
“I -- well, that’s not the point. I just don’t want to make any assumptions here. What if he’s just trying to be friendly?”
Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Is this why you never want to go out with the women I suggest? You’re into dudes?”
Steve blushed then, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t like labels. I just… like what I like, I guess. And I --”
“You like him.” She smirked. “He is the most self-absorbed douchebag in the city, and you like him.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely accurate, or fair,” Steve said with a furrowed brow. “Self-absorbed people don’t generally have a concept of the greater good, and Tony obviously does. He has risked his life for you and me and the rest of the team, on more than one occasion.”
Natasha’s features softened then, and she threw a teasing punch at his upper arm. “You really do like him.”
Steve drew a shaky breath and shrugged, then allowed himself a tentative smile. “You know, I knew his father. Smart guy, handsome -- really had a way with the ladies. Tony reminds me a lot of him, but smarter.”
“So... he reminds you of your old life?”
“Sort of, but… no, there’s more to it than that. There’s no mistaking Tony’s a man of this century, with all those gadgets and gizmos he’s always fiddling with. He’s absolutely brilliant.” Steve paused, admiration clearly written on his chiseled features. “Don’t you ever wonder what it must be like to be in that brain? To have that much creativity and genius at your disposal?”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t want to be a self-destructive, spoiled man-child?”
Steve cast a withering look at her, shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily. “Was that really necessary?”
Natasha raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, sorry. I’m going to stop doing that now. I don’t mean to trivialize this, Steve. I can see it’s important to you. So. Did you say yes?”
Steve’s bashful, lopsided grin answered her question.
“Alright. We need to decide what you’re going to wear.”