6.
Steve had always had faith in humanity, but the more he interacted with people these days, the more he lost that faith. Yes, there were dishonest people and liars in his time too, but there were many more honest ones that he encountered on a daily basis.
He would never have thought that getting an apartment would be so difficult. The one he'd lived in until recently had been arranged by SHIELD, and Steve had been relieved of the responsibility of finding one. Now he was on his own, with only a willing Jarvis on hand, and he was beginning to lose hope.
He'd managed to get four apartments in Brooklyn in the last month. Jarvis had told him more than once that he'd have a better chance of getting an apartment if he looked elsewhere, but Steve always refused. Brooklyn was his home. As he walked the streets, he recognized some places, even though they had undergone tremendous changes over the years. So no, he wasn't giving up on Brooklyn justyet.
It always looked good. Jarvis helped him find the ad, showed him on the map where the apartment was, and then Steve just contacted them. Once he was dealing with an African-American widower; then a young couple; an artist with whom he had a lot to talk; and finally a married couple with two children.
The people were nice and helpful, invited him to come in for a tour, told him their requirements. And then they called him back within a few hours, apologizing that they had already promised the apartment to someone else. Today, Mr. Collins even told him right at the door that the apartment was no longer available. And they had clearly agreed that Steve would come and see it!
The trip back to Manhattan took approximately forty-five minutes by car or bus, and that was only if traffic was good, which it never was. It was considerably longer on foot, but Steve realized that it would not be safe for him or the other passengers to get on the bus. After all, he had mangled the metal railings of the apartment building as he left it in a huff.
Of course he was angry. All these people were fucking with him, with apologies, and he was beginning to lose his temper. Was everyone really like that nowadays, or was he just that unlucky? Steve didn't know.
He hoped he could find an apartment quickly so he wouldn't bother Tony for more than two or three weeks at most. It had been a month now and the prospect of moving again had fallen on him like a house of cards. And now he'd have to go through it all over again. Ask Jarvis to look up the ads, call a few people, and agree on terms. He was tired of it and didn't want to do it again, but on the other hand he wasn't about to give up.
But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying his stay at Stark Tower. He was, he was enjoying it a lot. The view of New York was beautiful and awakened in him a desire to paint stronger than ever. Thanks to Jarvis and Tony's dedication, he was getting better at using modern technology, catching up on music styles and movies he'd slept through, and finally learning to use Google properly. And then, of course, there was Tony himself. But that was a chapter in itself.
It began to drizzle, Steve turned his face to the sky and felt the tiny droplets quench his anger. Sighing, he relaxed his shoulders and just stood motionless. No use crying over spilt milk, he thought with a slight smile, and resumed his stride. It was still a long way home and he would be glad to get back before six.
Eventually, though, he got on the bus halfway, partly because of the rain, but tiredness was also to blame. He had enjoyed his time at Stark Tower, but it hadn't solved his sleeping problems.
"So how's the flat, Cap?" Tony prompted as soon as Steve stepped out of the elevator on the common floor, as Tony had taken to calling it himself. Tony was sitting in a chair, a starkpad on his lap, obviously working on something. Steve replied with a grumpy grunt and took a deep drink of orange juice.
"Oh my. What happened?"
"The same as all three times before," Steve frowned, setting the juice down on the counter. "They've already given it to someone else. Tell me, Tony, is this common or am I just unlucky?"
Tony shrugged, a sanctimonious look playing across his face. "Coincidences happen."
"Yeah, kind of often."
He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and remained leaning against the marble surface of the kitchen counter for a moment. He was too tired to be angry. He felt like he could fall asleep standing up, but he knew that once he lay down and fell asleep, he wouldn't last more than an hour.
"We need to talk," Tony suddenly spoke up, his voice so serious that a chill went down Steve's spine. He looked up at him. Tony was frowning deeply, his eyes the color of dark chocolate. They were dark and hard.
---
Tony let out a tired but satisfied sigh, leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his energy drink. He never thought he'd run into honest people who refused money. His money! He took it as a personal insult.
Mr. Etkins, a widower in his seventies, had only needed to promise a place in one of the luxury retirement homes in Florida; the kid with the artistic name Incredible Dan just wanted some money to get his career as an artist off to a perfect start - Tony had no doubt he'd spend it all on drugs and alcohol, just like every other wannabe artist; and the young couple, Susan and Debbie, just wanted to meet Iron Man. He made it that same day, signed a few autographs, gave a hug, answered three questions, and flew home again. But Mr. Collins, that was a different story.
He was annoyingly righteous, going on and on about how a decent young man was coming to see the apartment - if he only knew how young the man really was, he'd be surprised. And so Tony bid and bid like he was at an auction, praying that he'd be successful. He used all his secret weapons of the businessman on Mr. Collins, but nothing seemed to work. Until Mrs. Collins stepped in.
Tony loved bossy women and especially when they voted for him and not against him. Finally, after a tedious half hour, Mr. Collins shamefacedly agreed and Tony could only congratulate himself. He had done it again, for the fourth time, and in doing so had successfully delayed Steve's move.
"Sir, may I point out that what you are doing is very unfair to Captain Rogers?" Jarvis chided him, and if Tony were just a little different man, he'd be ashamed. Thank goodness he wasn't. He was Tony Stark, Iron Man, a man who stubbornly goes for what he wants!
"Oh, come on, Jarvis. I'm just helping our fellow New Yorkers. That's not so bad.”
"It certainly isn't, sir, but believe me, Captain Rogers will be very upset again."
"So?" He shrugged at that. "Then let him be. The main thing is that he won't be moving anywhere."
Jarvis was quiet now, and Tony set to work on the suit again. Sure, he could have just talked to Steve, but that wasn't his style. Going to someone and begging them not to leave? No one would ever make Tony Stark do that. It was easier to just thwart Steve's chances of leaving. All he had to do then was endure Steve's growling for a few minutes, whereupon Steve took a deep breath, calmed down, apologized, and was back to his old self.
Tony had gotten too used to him, he knew it. But who could blame him? The tower was so strangely silent and empty when he was here alone. Steve had breathed life into it, the smell of home cooked food was everywhere and Steve's laughter carried through the corridors. They even watched movies together at night.
Since they had started living together, Tony's nightly anxiety had been reduced to a minimum, he had put on two pounds and, according to Jarvis, his cholesterol levels were back to normal after several years.
On the one hand, it was absurd. Not so long ago, he and Captain Perfect had been at each other's throats so much that it looked like they were going to kill each other one day.
"How's our tenant doing, Jarvi? Does he have everything he needs? Is he complaining about anything?"
"No, sir, Captain Rogers seems quite content. Except for a night's sleep, which has eluded him since his arrival. I think it's time to worry about him. I don't have enough data to fully understand the organism of a super soldier, but in the twenty-nine nights Captain Rogers has spent in the tower he has slept for fifteen hours and twenty-eight minutes."
"Fifteen hours?!" Tony said in horror, dropping whatever he was doing. He turned around in his chair and ordered Jarvis to show him the data he had collected on Steve so far. He had slept little himself, but not this little. That would kill him. The super soldier was made of different dough, of course, but fifteen hours in twenty-nine nights? Something told him that even Steve's serum-adapted body couldn't handle that. It wasn't even an hour a day!
Jarvis lit a folder in front of him labeled ROGERS, Steven. In addition to information on height, weight, body fat content, foot size, average body temperature, average heart rate, and a host of other information, it contained detailed records and graphs regarding sleep that were literally alarming. Tony mentally cursed Jarvis for not telling him about it sooner.
He quickly scanned the file. The non-REM phase of sleep seemed to have almost eluded Steve. He was falling asleep at dawn and waking up within twenty minutes. It was a shallow, restless sleep, and his heart raced at the speed of a racehorse. Only twice had he slept for more than an hour, and each time he'd fallen asleep during a movie he and Tony were watching together. He slept more soundly then.
Other days Steve didn't sleep at all, and according to Jarvis's notes, he was either reading, boxing downstairs in the gym, or just lying in bed or sitting by the window, staring ahead. Or he was drawing.
"That's crazy," he muttered, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. And this tired Steve took them on missions? That would be very irresponsible even by Tony's standards, let alone Steve, who always did his best to make sure everyone was perfectly prepared.
"Jarvis! You should have told me this sooner!"
"You didn't ask, sir," the program countered apologetically. Tony growled, it was easy to take his anger out on Jarvis. But he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it himself. After all, sleep deprivation this severe had to be visible. He leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers and twiddling his thumbs, trying to figure out what to do. He knew no sleeping pills would work. He'd have to give Steve a hefty dose, and he really didn't dare guess that himself. He'd hate to overdose the super soldier.
"Where's Rogers now?"
"He's gone to look at the apartment you just bought, sir. I'd say he'll be on his way back by now."
Tony shook his head and decided to wait for him upstairs. He could have just waved his hand over it and let Steve in his misery, but somehow he didn't want to. After all, it was his duty as host to take care of his guest! But how to help him?
Steve finally arrived after two hours. Tony managed to make a few phone calls, eat and figure out how to get Steve to sleep. He remembered the two separate hours when Steve had slept relatively soundly. When he thought about it, it wasn't that surprising. He himself slept better with someone lying next to him. After the attack on New York, he'd gotten the most sleep with Pepper by his side. When he slept alone, the nightmares were worse and the sleep was shallow.
He expected the captain of the Forties to be against it, but he wasn't about to give up without a fight. Hey, it was no big deal! He'd sit with him and work, and maybe the captain would at least get some sleep. It was definitely worth a shot.
Steve walked out of the elevator, visibly angry and wet from the rain.
"So how's the flat, Cap?" Tony asked, setting the starkpad down on the small table beside him. Steve looked at him in annoyance and grunted instead of answering. That was a good sign. If Steve only growled, his anger didn't last long. Tony watched him walk over to the fridge, pull out a carton of orange juice, and sure enough, he downed the entire contents in one gulp.
Tony stood up and followed him, hands casually in the pockets of his work pants - threadbare sweatpants that surely remembered better times.
"Oh my. What happened?"
"The same as all three times before," he frowned, setting the juice down on the counter. "They've already given it to someone else. Tell me, Tony, is this common or am I just unlucky?"
Tony shrugged, a sanctimonious look playing across his face. "Coincidences happen."
Or maybe a pompous billionaire is just getting in the way, he added to himself, chuckling. He wondered peripherally what he was going to do with the four apartments and how many more he'd have to buy before Steve gave up.
"Yeah, kind of often."
The captain sighed deeply, began rubbing the bridge of his nose and leaned against the marble counter. Tony looked him over, frowning deeply, and finally saw it. Steve had dark circles under his eyes, his posture not as firm and confident as it had been at other times. He even leaned back slightly at one point and almost fell over. He looked weak and old, a combination that was absurd to Captain America.
"We need to talk," Tony said seriously. The Captain tensed, didn't move for a moment before daring to look up. For a moment he gave Tony a glimpse of the doe in the spotlight.
"About what?"
Steve straightened again, letting his arms fall along his body, watching Tony warily. Tony had no idea what he'd been thinking that had thrown him off balance like that, and he wasn't currently planning on finding out. He watched Steve's eyes, at other times cheerful, sky blue and shining. Now they were faded and lifeless.
"About your sleeping habits. And don't try to lie, Jarvis ratted you out."
"I would venture to observe that Captain Rogers' sleeping habits could already be described as rather free-style. He's worse off than you are, sir."
Steve slumped his shoulders and slowly let the air out of his lungs. Tony watched his change in attitude, uncomprehending. Was he really that relieved now? That had already piqued his curiosity.
"Yeah, well..." mused Steve, scratching his hair, avoiding eye contact, "I'm a bit of a bad sleeper, that's true."
"Fifteen hours, mate," Tony informed him, folding his arms across his chest. "Fifteen hours since you've been living here. I know that well, Jarvis is monitoring you. He's monitoring, not watching, there's a difference." He held his index finger up. "And I'm so glad he does."
Steve had no response to make. He leaned his back against the kitchen counter and stared at the floor. He sighed, buried his face in his hands, and continued to remain silent. Tony stopped frowning. With a slight smile at that, he shook his head and walked over to him.
"Look, you don't have to explain," he said more gently now, placing his palm on Steve’s forearm. He'd realized earlier how hot Steve's skin always was. Supposedly the price of a fast metabolism. The muscles tensed momentarily under his touch. "But you can't go on like this. I know a thing or two about insomnia, Cap, and you might last longer as a super soldier, but it'll eventually kill you just like it does us mere mortals."
He found himself once again in the grip of blue eyes. He had the impression that Steve wanted to tell him something, but he didn't say a word. Tony wasn't going to pry it out of him. Tony wouldn't be able to help him anyway. If there was one thing he was not good at, it was talking about inner aches and pains.
"Come to my bed," he whispered, immediately realizing how stupid that sounded. Steve gave him the doe-in-the-headlights look again. "I've noticed that you sleep better with someone beside you," he continued quickly then, lest the captain misunderstand him, "so we can try, can't we? Maybe you'll fall asleep for a while."
"Tony..."
"I won't take no for an answer," he pointed out immediately. "Refuse and you'll have only ice water in the shower all week. Jarvis can make it work."
Steve chuckled, looked down at Tony's palm resting on his forearm for a moment, and finally nodded. "All right, it's worth a try... I have a feeling I'm going to fall asleep standing up soon."
"Let's go," Tony called, turning on his heel and leading Steve straight to the elevator and then to his bedroom. "Make yourself comfortable, feel free to undress. I'll sit with you and work. Yeah?" He looked back over his shoulder at him. Steve really looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute.
"Yeah, okay," he agreed without a struggle. Everything made sense to Tony now. Steve hadn't argued with him then about the clothes or other things he'd given him or arranged for him because he didn't have the energy for that. And his occasional barking, which was the first time Tony had experienced that then, tiredness was to blame for those too. It all fell into place perfectly.
He went over to the windows and set about pulling up the blinds that were there purely for decorative reasons. He could have let Jarvis darken the windows, but he wanted to give Steve at least a semblance of privacy. After all, he couldn't just stand there and watch as he stripped off his shirt and jeans, carefully folding them at the end of the bed, and lying down under the blanket.
The room soon fell into a comfortable gloom. Tony turned over, Steve was lying on his back under the covers with his arms clasped across his chest, tense. Tony sat on the other half of the bed, his back against its headboard, and looked down at the nervous captain.
"First time in bed with a guy?" He joked. He didn't know what to make of the look Steve gave him. It wasn't a disgusted or horrified look, more like annoyed. As if it wasn't the first time Steve had heard something like that.
"Everything ok? You don't want another pillow? You're not too hot or cold? Does Jarvis have to play whale singing for you? I hear it's good for falling asleep."
"No, Tony, thank you. This is enough," he assured him, closing his eyes. It took a moment, but he finally relaxed, rolling onto his side and folding his arm under his head. "But you can tell me a bedtime story if you want to."
The jest in his voice was noticeable, and of course Tony chuckled softly. He tried to remember a fairy tale, but his parents never told him any. Still, he could think of one. He remembered Aunt Peggy, who was really terrible at telling fairy tales, and this one was more likely to annoy Tony than put him to sleep.
"Once upon a time there was a king..." He uttered gravely, watching as Steve looked up at him in surprise, "and we end him. Now sleep, or I'll end you, too."
(sorry, this is difficult to translate from Czech xD It’s a story my father always told me when I was a kid. The word used instead of “end him” is “zatočit” which you can translate as “spin around” or something like that. It’s a Czech slang and it means “to deal with someone/something” or “end someone/something”. I hope it makes a bit sense :D)
Steve blinked, chuckled softly, and whispered, "That was a terrible story."
"Hey!" He objected, offended. "It's the best one I know!"
"But it’s really terrible. Next time I'll tell you one, so you can at least learn one."
Tony didn’t say anything about Steve's "next time" and slapped one of the pillows over his face, chuckling softly. "Go back to sleep, Captain. So you have enough energy for the next fight with the aliens."
There was a relaxed laugh from under the pillow, and Steve returned it to him, closing his eyes and apparently finally starting to drift off to sleep with such vigor that his brows came together in a deep frown.
Tony watched him, his face soon smoothing, his breathing calming and deepening. It didn't take ten minutes, and the supersoldier slept deeply and peacefully. Tony settled more comfortably, placed the starkpad on his lap and set about designing a new suit, which he spent the next two hours on.
Eventually he put the work away. He hadn't gotten much sleep himself that night, and his eyes were beginning to sting. Slowly, he slumped down, tucked his legs under the covers, and lay close to Steve. Not enough to touch, but enough to feel his body heat. It was nice, so nice that even he fell asleep pretty quickly and peacefully, waking up after three hours.
Outside the wind was blowing, the rain was drumming on the windows, and New York was shrouded in fog. Steve was still asleep, the tower was quiet, and Tony had the impression that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. By Steve's side. Strange thought...
Which led him to another thought, namely how the Captain had gotten here in the first place. Not to his bed, he'd dragged himself there, he knew that, but here to the tower. He'd tried to catch up on so much stuff during those few weeks that he'd almost forgotten about the explosion in Steve's apartment.
"Jarve, find those scans of Rogers' apartment and do a projection and simulation for me," he whispered, pulling himself into a sitting position. Jarvis was quiet, nothing happened for a while. Tony rubbed his eyes, yawned, and when he looked around again, he was sitting in a burned out apartment. The scans were light blue, transparent and dim so as not to wake Steve. Jarvis thought of everything.
"Okay, Jarve, find me where it started."
Tony watched the simulation, making subtle movements with his hands to enlarge the areas he wanted to see better, trying out his own scenarios and, in short, trying to get to the bottom of it. Steve continued to sleep, mostly peacefully, only once starting to twitch and whimper. Tony didn't even think about it as he put his hand on his head and his fingers gently worked through Steve's hair at the back of his head. He stopped fidgeting, sighed deeply, and continued to sleep soundly.
His hair was as soft as a child's and when Tony leaned down a little, he could smell the soap mixed with his personal scent. He closed his eyes for a moment before realizing what he was doing and quickly pulled away.
He tried to continue with his work, but it wasn't coming as easily. His eyes kept darting to the sleeping soldier, who was starting to stir by the way. Tony thought he would have woken up by now, but he didn't. He just rolled over onto his stomach, hugged his pillow and got more comfortable. Tony raised his arms to shoulder height and just watched him. Eventually Steve ended up with his head close to Tony's thigh and his left leg along Tony's right.
"If you think so," he whispered, more to himself, and slowly lowered his hands again. He returned his left to Steve's head, as anywhere else would be uncomfortable, and continued working with his right. He tried. He really tried. But he couldn't concentrate. Steve was burning into his skin, his muscles tensing slightly with each breath, and Tony finally just stayed staring at him.
The blanket bunched up as he rolled over, allowing Tony to slide his eyes over his naked body. The only piece of clothing Steve kept on was a pair of black boxer briefs that accentuated his ass perfectly. Tony bit his lip and overcame the urge to touch it. It was so round and firm. Everything about Steve's body was like it was carved from the smoothest marble.
He slid his eyes from his buttocks down his narrow waist to his broad shoulders. He made sure Steve was still asleep before slowly moving his hand to touch him. A familiar heat rested in his palm, his fingers slowly exploring his muscular shoulders. His skin was smooth to the touch, his body firm and gorgeous.
He flinched and blinked in surprise. Gorgeous? Yes, sure, Steve was certainly the epitome of masculine beauty, but was it even fitting to call him gorgeous? He routinely said women were gorgeous because they really were, but he had never described a man that way. Come to think of it, he didn't realize he'd ever looked at a man the way he looked at Steve now.
He reassessed his figure with his gaze, noting every little detail, trying to find fault. He didn't find one. Captain Perfect was simply perfect. Annoyingly perfect with his baby-blonde hair, full lips, round ass, and strong hands that could surely grip Tony's hips tightly if he...
He looked down at his lap with an expression of absolute confusion. Surely, this wasn't the first time he'd had an erection. They'd known each other quite intimately for a few years, and they'd worked real wonders together - ninety-nine percent of the women he'd ever slept with would attest to that; the one percent were unhappy because he'd been drinking too much at the time and Tony Jr. didn't feel like standing at attention - but he'd never gotten a hard-on from the sight of a man. Interesting...
He left his hand on Steve’s back, his thumb tracing circles on his shoulder blade, gently and carefully. Tony had rough hands, riddled with calluses, scrapes and burns, he knew it, and it didn't matter how much cream he put on them, they were always rough. It didn't disturb the Captain from his sleep though.
Tony let out a long sigh, leaning his head against the wall behind him and looking up at the ceiling. He tried to think of something ugly and unpleasant, but it was like throwing peas against a wall. Instead, his mind was flooded with naughty images involving Steve that made his crotch twitch.
Oh, come on! Tony cursed himself mentally. Out of all the guys, I must be interested in Rogers? What a nightmare.
"Would you like to adjust the simulation, sir?" Jarvis said quietly. Jarvis, dear Jarvis! He always knew exactly when Tony needed a distraction. Which was scary on the one hand, because Tony hadn't programmed him to do anything like that, but convenient at the same time. He put the pillow on his lap and pulled his hand off Steve's back.
"Yeah, Jarve. Maybe we'll figure something out."