Chapter 3
“He’s definitely injured.”
Steve turned around from where he’d been watching Tony depart to look at agent Romanov – or rather, Natasha, now that the mission was over. The spy in turn watched him with one eyebrow raised, daring him to contradict her judgement. He sighed.
“I know, Nat, but I don’t want to crowd him right now, you know how defensive he gets if we do,” Steve said, voice pensive. He knew by now not to smother Tony with his ‘overbearing worrying’. He’d rather not deal with a pissed off Tony Stark if he could help it.
“I trust him to come to us if he needs it,” he explained to her. Steve hoped he would, but chances of that were – regrettably – quite low.
Natasha raised the other eyebrow as well, amusement dancing in her eyes as she cocked her head. She had obviously had the same thought process as him.
Steve chuckled and conceded the point, shaking his head.
“Nat’s always right,” Clint chirped up as he emerged from the room that had been blasted to pieces minutes before. While Tony was inside? He, like the two spies, agreed that there was no way Tony was not hurt at all. Especially given the two cuts that had marred his face.
“He’s not gonna come to us for help, Cap. Maybe to you, though,” Clint whispered the last bit over his shoulder as he passed around Steve and retreated into the hallway to the staircase.
Steve followed the figure heading into the hallway, not thinking much of the comment as Clint liked to rile them all up a bit. However, he had to do a double-take as he saw the smirk on Natasha’s face. He looked at her, puzzled, barely refraining from letting out a dumb ‘huh?’.
“What’s he on about?” he asked instead. Natasha let out a snort and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Are you that oblivious?” she said, playful joy in her smooth voice. “Tony usually finds his way to you, one way or the other.”
Steve paused. Did he? He’d never really noticed that the genius sought him out often enough for the others to notice it, but he felt flattered at the apparent trust Tony had in him.
He ignored the slight warmth he felt in his cheeks and thought about it. The team had gotten so much closer over the course of the last few months as they had started living together. He loved that these people, who were so special to him and to the world, finally started creating traditions and started sharing habits together.
For starters, they ate together nearly every day. Bruce had taken to teaching the other Avengers to cook, assisted by Tony when he would be out of his lab. Steve had once shown Tony a cookbook that he’d found lying around and the genius had promptly torn the first recipe out of the book with a big grin on his face and slammed it onto the fridge. The others had quickly picked up on this new habit of slapping recipes they wanted to try against the fridge. More often than not, Tony would run a recipe he’d found past Steve first, a questioning look on his face ‘til Steve had agreed it’d be tasty, before slapping it onto the growing stack of recipes with a smirk.
The movie nights had also been a huge success, usually ending with all of them piled on top of each other, some drifting off to sleep. They had made a list of must-see movies, and Steve or Thor got to pick the movies, since they had seen the least. Steve would always come into the living room first, taking his time to read through the descriptions so as to make the best choice. Lately, he would often be joined by Tony, who would plop down onto the couch right next to him. Steve would delight in the way he could voice his opinions to the other man, who’d sometimes share his own, until the others joined them. Sometimes, Steve would look down at the genius later to find him asleep, nestled against his side as the movie progressed.
Now that he really thought about it, more and more snippets of memories came to him in which Tony would just be there. Even during missions, Tony had begun to actually follow Steve’s lead or at least actually consider the advice given to him before taking to the skies. He’d begun proposing alternate plans in rapid descriptions to Steve, asking for his approval. After a battle, Steve never had to look around to know that Tony had found his way back to them – him – asking for a mission report or how the team was doing.
“Oh,” he voiced aloud, pleasantly surprised, as more and more recollections of Tony seemingly finding a path straight to him entered his mind.
How he would part the crowd of interviewers in front of the Tower to join him and flash him a smile. How he’d saunter over from a group of sponsors at a gala to complain to Steve. How he would always be at Steve’s six during training sessions with the team. How he’d wind up in Steve’s personal art studio at the tower, asking for his opinions on new gear for the team.
“Yes, oh,” Natasha quipped, stepping forwards, barely hiding her smirk behind her hand. “Did you only just realise that?”
Steve nodded, a smile tugging at his lips that was mirrored on Nat’s face when she dropped her hand.
“Figures.” She rolled her eyes jokingly, but then narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. Steve let her. Her brows furrowed together as she seemed to find something in his expression that she had not expected. Her lips parted a few times before she managed to voice her thoughts.
“You don’t even realise that you’re into him, do you?” she said fondly, the question coming out more as a statement, like she hadn’t expected any different but found it endearing.
The gears in his head ground to a halt. And then started spinning full throttle in the other direction.
Him? Into Tony? It’s not that he disliked the man, no quite the opposite, he greatly appreciated him but—
The same memories as before flashed through his mind and realisation flooded him that he had paid attention to Tony’s behaviour and that somewhere along the way his impatience and annoyance with Tony Stark had… shifted. He thought he’d felt pride and honour to stand beside the Iron Man, a hero who gave his all to save others. He now realised that what he felt for the man coming to his side again and again, showcasing his growing trust in Steve, could be… more? Like Natasha had suggested.
Steve had realised a long while ago that the man Tony pretended to be wasn’t the man he actually was.
The first time he’d gotten to see underneath the Stark-mask, he’d had to pinch himself to know it was real. It had happened just after the invasion and Tony had been showing him an alarm system he’d developed to warn them for incoming alien entities. He’d been awestruck by the sheer cleverness of it all and had complimented the genius on it, fully expecting to have his head bitten off in reward or to have the compliment be waved away. Instead, he’d found a genuine, almost bashful smile on Tony’s face before he’d continued going into the details of the system. And oh, was that were it started?
The image of this proud person, in his natural element and as his true self, had stuck with him and it had been the next thing that Steve painted.
Tony had even seen it once, when he came into Steve’s art studio. He remembered jerking up in surprise as he felt a presence at his back. He’d turned around to see the muse of his painting standing behind him and Steve had gone to cover the canvas up with his broad frame, waiting for the mocking comment. But Tony had pushed him aside, gently, and had taken a seat as he stared at the unfinished painting with open awe and appreciation in his eyes.
Steve had since made an effort to learn how to draw Tony out from behind the masks and walls that he’d crafted, and he had learned how to keep from scaring him away.
He liked that he got to see underneath the Stark-mask, to see the softness and care hidden there. The boyish playfulness. The brilliance of his mind, yes, but also the brilliance of his emotions. The other man cared so deeply it was an achievement that he’d managed to keep it hidden from the world, had kept it alive and vibrant.
His mind flashed to how Tony would always be at his side, seemingly always knowing what to say or do to help Steve or make him laugh. He’d be flooded with warmth in his chest whenever he looked down to find the genius asleep on his shoulder, face lax, or when he’d come up to him after a battle with the face-plate lifted to reveal poorly-concealed worry in his warm brown eyes. The genius took care of all of them, somehow knowing exactly how to make them all feel comfortably at home and Steve always watched on in delight as he watched Tony’s chameleon-like ability to morph himself into whichever version of himself that suited the situation.
Tony had helped him settle into the Tower and – more importantly – this century in surprisingly subtle ways. His rooms, or floor, really, were decorated in a mix between vintage and modern that made him feel right at home. The books, the recordplayer, the lightning, even the smell helped him feel at ease. He’d been gifted with a phone that came with a built-in AI that had a gentle female voice that would patiently explain the interfaces to him. Steve was pretty sure that the AI had been given special instructions to guide Steve into watching certain articles or videos that would explain modern concepts.
The most thoughtful thing Tony had done for him happened recently, after the entirety of a night had been spent getting to know each other in Steve’s studio, Tony lounging on his couch as Steve painted him. The next morning, he had found all of the paints and colours in his studio replaced with his favourite brand from the 1940’s, and the utensils had clearly been designed to Steve’s liking by Tony himself, who had apparently listened to every little complaint that Steve had listed about the longevity of modern art supplies.
And that was the thing with the real man behind the mask of Tony Stark. He was patient, thoughtful and selfless to a boundless extent. Steve had gained such a deep respect for this person and was thankful every day to be allowed to call him a friend. He grasped that the extent of the warmth he felt for Tony might extend beyond friendship, though.
He liked it when he would turn around to find Tony there, sending Steve a warm smile. He liked it when he could ask stupid questions about technology or science and be met with infinite patience and understanding. He liked it when a gentle hand on his shoulder would lead him away from talking to reporters or sponsors. He liked it even more that he felt like he got to unearth more and more about Tony every day.
“’Oh’?” Nat asked him, who had been watching him as he must have zoned out for a bit. She stepped closer and put a warm hand on his arm with another gleeful smile. His answering smile came to him easily as the thought settled into him. He might be into Tony Stark—no, Tony. Yeah, he could see that making sense.
“Does he know? Do you think he might know I—” he began asking the first most important question crossing his mind, but was interrupted by the shake of Natasha’s head.
“That’s not for me to tell, Steve. But if you really want to know, no, I don’t think he knows,” she acquiesced, before looking at him again, eyes full of mischief. “You two are quite alike like that.”
She stepped around him to go after Clint, patting his arm as she did so.
“I’ll see you at home, Loverboy,” she sing-songed. He didn’t even fight the blush rising to warm his face.
He watched after Natasha as he breathed out in relief, feeling like something had clicked in his mind. He’d figure out his exact feelings some other time, it didn’t matter much anyway. He just wanted to be close to Tony, to help and comfort him, get to know as much about him as the genius would allow. Whether or not his romantic – what! Who knew? – feelings were reciprocated was an issue for a later time.
Worry clenched in his gut as the thought about how Tony could be bleeding out right now. The idiot would never admit it if he were, and they’d never know until it was too late. His feet were taking him down the hallway before he knew it. He worried his lip between his teeth. On the other hand, their help would not be welcome as of yet. Tony was much too reserved for that, an inherent reluctancy to show them what he thought was weakness. Steve would make it his mission to help the engineer, somehow. He’d give the other man the time to think, to process, to reach out. He wouldn’t push if he didn’t, but he would make it clear that Tony could always count on his support and help if he needed it.
Patience was key.
God knows he was going to need it with this man.