Lovely

When Steve leaves for a mission on Monday, Tony doesn’t think much of it. For one thing, Steve is Captain-fucking-America, and for another, if Tony thinks about it too much, he ends up jittery for hours on end and usually solders whatever is in his hands at the moment together in a fit of mad genius. And while Tony is not going to ever deny that he is a genius, even he can realize that perhaps attaching Clint’s bow to a coffee mug is more counterproductive than useful. (And Tony would have preferred to not have experienced the booby traps laid by the archer afterwards.)

Instead, Tony lets Pepper prod him into meetings, lets Bruce prod him into looking at physics equations, lets the rest of them prod him into the living room to watch old movies and reality shows, because Thor really likes America’s Next Top Model, strangely enough. Tony tries to convince himself that he isn’t worried, because, again, Steve is Captain America. They do this on a regular basis, the putting themselves in danger and saving the world from imminent doom. And Tony’s never cared before, not before Steve and their relationship, which is a word that still sits strangely in the man’s head and mouth. Not that it doesn’t send a shiver through his spine and down to his fingers.

This sort of thing is normal, so normal for them, that Tony feels rather stupid for worrying at all. But he keeps doing it anyways, secretly, because he may or may not be in love with Steve Rogers.

When Steve doesn’t come back on Tuesday, Tony shrugs and goes back to banging on things—sulking, although he doesn’t admit it. When Steve doesn’t come back on Wednesday, Tony almost blows up the floor of the Tower his workshop is on trying to distract himself. When Steve doesn’t come back on Thursday, Tony hacks into SHIELD’s records. (Nick Fury, however, seems to have anticipated this, and the details of Steve’s mission and status are absolutely nowhere to be found on SHIELD databases and servers.) Maria Hill yells at Tony for three straight hours for that, and only because Tony knows that Fury didn’t want to deal with him at all. On Friday, Hill calls Tony again to tersely inform him that Captain America has dropped off SHIELD’s radar completely and that even they are starting to get worried.

On Friday, Iron Man sets out from Avengers Tower.

--

Something is wrong.

Steve sits at his table for a few more minutes after the woman—Mal—leaves, his brow furrowed, a frown on his lips. Had it been a warning, or a threat? I know who you love, she had said. They’re not safe, she had implied. Steve stands up, suddenly, the cups on the table rattling with force as he rises. The soldier throws a couple of bills on the table, and then shakes his head before he heads back to Avengers Tower.

Natasha meets him at the door, a sheaf of papers in her hand.

“You need to sign these,” she tells him, holding out the papers, “and would you mind taking these to Tony? I think he’s downstairs working on the suit.”

“Sure,” Steve says, “did Tony seclude himself in the workshop again?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at him as he takes the papers, her hand dropping delicately to her side.

“Right,” Steve laughs, “bad question.” Steve flips through the papers briefly before heading to the kitchen, fixing a sandwich and a mug of coffee for Tony—because in all likelihood, he won’t have eaten, and Tony wouldn’t realize how hungry he was until there was a plate in front of him and a mug of coffee in his hands.

And sure enough, when Steve pads downstairs, JARVIS lowering the volume of Tony’s music automatically, Tony’s head pops up from the innards of an engine, and he smiles at Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says, “I made you a sandwich.”

“I can see that, Captain Boyscout,” Tony snarks, but he comes over anyways, “but I’m more interested in you. Or the coffee.” Tony looks from the mug to Steve, as if deciding, and then plucks the mug out of Steve’s hands, downing all the liquid in one gulp.

“Yep, now definitely most interested in you,” Tony grins, setting the mug down and tilting his face up, peering at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve rolls his eyes, but leans down, kissing Tony lightly on the lips, chaste and gentle before he pulls away.

“Sandwich first,” Steve says, “and signatures.”

“Signatures?” Tony questions, and Steve holds out the papers that Natasha had given him. Tony takes them, flipping through them rapidly, eyes flickering back and forth. Steve can almost hear the thoughts whirling through his head.

“Fury,” Tony snorts, and throws the papers onto a table, and then reaches for the plate. “It’s not anything important, just copyright and trademark stuff. I’ll take care of it later.” He takes a bite of the sandwich, and Steve would tell Tony to sign them, because it had seemed like it was important, but if Steve interrupted Tony, he would start arguing and forget about his food. And Tony already forgot to take care of himself so often. So instead, Steve just rolled his eyes again, moving closer to Tony, who leaned against the super-soldier in an automatic gesture.

“And besides,” Tony says, “SHIELD does not need to know the specifications of my patents on Iron Man. But it was hidden very well, I’ll give them that. Props to Fury. Did Natasha or Coulson give you those?”

“Natasha,” Steve replies, frowning, “you don’t think she—”

“Nah,” Tony says, “I was just wondering. I don’t think she picked up on it, for all her creepy superspy powers.” He popped the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before licking mayonnaise off his fingers deliberately.

“Well then,” Tony continues, a grin spreading over his face, “now that everything is taken care of, how about you and I—”

But Steve doesn’t get to find out what Tony wants them to do, because then the glass walls of Tony’s workshop shatter, and there are gunshots. Steve dives, pulling Tony to the ground and frantically trying to remember where he had put his shield. When he looks up, there is a masked man holding a gun to his forehead, and another one besides him, holding another gun to Tony’s head.