9.
Steve carefully arranged the pancakes with syrup on a plate and his eyes wandered impatiently for the umpteenth time to the elevator and the stairs. He absolutely did not understand Tony's last night's tantrum, yet he felt guilty. He didn't know what he'd done to make Tony yell at him but he was ready to apologize. He thought that he had said something during their earlier barking that was over the line and had offended Tony, but he couldn't remember anything.
The last time they'd teased each other like this had been yesterday morning, and that had been about the painting equipment Tony had given Steve. Although they barked at each other like old dogs, Steve could sense the playfulness of it. Tony only did it to see Steve angry and Steve only let himself get angry so he could watch the devilish sparks in Tony's eyes. The atmosphere wasn't tense, it was really only and only playful. He wasn't really angry at Tony for the easel and the canvases, although he didn't feel good about Tony spending so much on it.
Things had been going that way with them since that night, and Steve thought about it over and over. But, as mentioned, Tony was playing with him like a cat with a mouse, and Steve went along with his game without resistance. They were having fun. Even when they argued, they were soon laughing again, and Steve got the impression that the relationship between them was only getting better every day. By the end, it couldn't even be called arguing.
That's why Steve didn't understand why Tony was yelling at him. He stood then, stunned, watching Tony's back and bare feet disappearing into the stairwell. Tony was really furious. And drunk, Steve could smell the alcohol all the way to the kitchen. It occurred to him that maybe someone else had made him angry, most likely the blonde woman who had run past him, taken a picture and disappeared in a hurry. Maybe Tony was just using him as a lightning rod. But he couldn't be sure. He needs to talk to Tony and find out what happened.
"Jarvis, is Tony awake?" He asked, sprinkling fresh blueberries and raspberries on his pancakes. Was he really trying to soothe Tony with food? Rogers, you can't be serious...
"Not yet, Captain. He's down in the study, sleeping on the floor. He had a lot to drink last night, could you go check on him, please?"
Steve sighed. He didn't like it when Tony drank. He didn't like drunks. A few beers with friends was different from a few bottles of whiskey. And Tony could drink several of them in one sitting.
"I'll go see him," he agreed, taking his plate and glass of water with him and stepping toward the elevator.
The workshop was... a mess. Steve had seen Tony's workshop several times before and it wasn't in such disarray. Tools were lying all over the floor, blueprints were torn and crumpled, even one of Tony's robots was lying on its side, clicking its pliers and spinning its wheels in a desperate attempt to stand up. Amongst it all lay a lot of shards from cups. Most of Tony's collection was gone.
When Steve first came here, two things caught his eye. The first was the seven shelves stretching across one wall, on which mugs of various colours and styles were lined up. Mugs with Iron Man and Stark Industries motifs predominated, but Steve could see mugs with himself, the Hulk, Natasha, and Clint among them. Mugs from all over the world portray landmarks and tourist spots. And more. Tony explained that it was common for him to break a mug in the heat of the moment, so he had a collection like this prepared ahead of time. So that he would always have something to enjoy his coffee from.
The second was a board on which Tony had a few pictures pinned to. Most of them were drawn by some kids, but Steve recognized one of them. It was his, he'd scribbled it once during a meeting and left it on the table. It showed Fury as Ariel the mermaid from The Little Mermaid. A horrible image, he admitted, but he couldn't think of anything better at the time.
The shelves were almost empty now and porcelain shards were everywhere. The pictures from the board lay crumpled on the table. Amidst all the clutter, Tony lay on his back. His hair was disheveled, his face was blue, and he still clutched a nearly empty scotch bottle in his right hand. There were traces of dried blood on his left palm.
Steve set the plate down, checked that Tony was breathing - he was - and first lifted the robot back onto its wheels. It moved immediately and set about cleaning up. The other robot joined it. Steve just watched them for a moment before turning to Tony again.
He knelt down and patted him on the cheek. His answer was a murmur. He tried again.
"Tony, get up," he called in a firm voice. Tony didn't wake up, just grunted again, dropped the bottle and rolled over. Steve shook him gently.
"Get up!" He said louder. Tony finally opened his eyes and gave him a hazy, confused look.
"Leave me alone, Rogers," he grumbled and tried to go back to sleep. Steve grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet without much difficulty. Tony stammered, staggered, burped loudly and remained standing, leaning against Steve.
"What were you doing last night?" Steve sighed, leading him over to a chair and sitting him down. Tony leaned back against the back of the chair and looked up at him.
"I kind of lost it," he rolled his eyes, Steve could clearly hear him stepping on his tongue some more. "I yelled at you last night, didn't I? Hnnn... fuck. That didn't belong to you." Tony rubbed his head and sighed deeply. "My head hurts. I feel sick. Fuck... What a fucking stupid idea."
"It sure was. Here, drink this." He handed him a glass of water, but Tony pushed it away.
"I don't want it, eww. Give me the scotch, alcohol drives out alcohol."
"Tony, drink the water," he growled, putting on his Captain America mask. Tony looked up at him with one eye closed and grinned in amusement.
"Yes, sir," he saluted mockingly, snatching the glass from his hand and drinking it all. He burped again. "Ugh... God, what a night."
"What were you doing here?" Steve asked again in a softer voice, looking around the room. It looked like a tornado had swept through.
"You know I don't even know?" He chuckled weakly, copying Steve's look. "I guess I was pissed about something. Damn, my mugs. I must have been pretty out of it if I took it out on my mugs."
"And one of your robots," Steve nodded, pointing a finger at it. "It was lying on the ground when I came in."
"Dum-E? Holy crap! Sorry, buddy!"
Tony got up on still slightly unsteady feet and stumbled straight to the robot. He looked it over, patted his metal shoulder, and apologized a few more times. Steve just watched him and shook his head. It was strange to see Tony like this, in just a dirty shirt, boxers, socks and a short robe.
"I brought you a breakfast if your stomach can handle it," he informed him as Tony sit back in his chair. Tony shot a curious glance over the plate and Steve could see him thinking whether or not to eat it. His stomach growled.
"I think I can handle it," he commented, pulling his plate over and digging in. Steve realized he hadn't brought cutlery, but that didn't bother Tony. He ate with his hands. "Jarve, honey, did I do anything embarrassing last night? Am I on the front page?"
"There’s something in the Daily News."
"Oh, great. Any controversial photos? I don't really remember what I did yesterday. I might as well have been sticking my tongue down some minister's wife's throat or something," he laughed. Steve folded his arms across his chest and watched Tony disapprovingly. He never would have guessed what a disaster it was to let Tony out.
"Not your pictures, sir," Jarvis responded immediately, turning on one of the monitors.
Steve paled. His hands shook and his stomach clenched uncomfortably. He felt like he was going to throw up.
Tony Stark plays for the other team! proclaimed the huge headline. Below it, in smaller print, was Tony Stark and Captain America in a love affair? The entire front page was dominated by a photograph. For a moment, Steve couldn't believe what he was looking at. It was him, half-naked with his hair disheveled and a glass of juice in his hand. He was glistening with sweat.
The pounding on the door rang in his ears. The young man's screams. A man in uniform swept before his eyes.
He took a step back, not even noticing the sharp pain in his foot. The shard from the mug cut into his skin and the floor immediately began to turn red. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was starting an asthma attack.
He wasn't Captain America. He was Steve Rogers, a little skinny kid from Brooklyn in the forties who sat in church every Sunday and listened to how abnormal and disgusting he was. Steve Rogers, the kid who ran from the police at the age of 15 and narrowly escaped them.
"Wow, someone's been a busy bee here," he heard Tony mutter in surprise. "Maybe she'll get a bonus this month, because, heh, I don't think such gossip has ever rocked my boat. Don't worry, Cap, it'll go quiet again in a minute and nobody-"
The chair creaked, Tony turned to him and fell silent mid-sentence. Steve didn't look at him, he continued to watch the paper, trying pleadingly to think logically. To say something. Calm down. Take a deep breath. He couldn't, his mind was blank, fear flooding his whole body.
"Steve, you're bleeding," Tony said in a muffled voice. Steve blinked, finally regaining some of his composure and shifting his weight to his good leg. He looked down and watched his own blood as if he'd never seen it before.
Finally able to breathe, he drew air into his lungs until his head spun. Eventually, he came back. Back to this body, back to this time. The police won't come for him and arrest him. He doesn't have to run from anyone, he doesn't have to be afraid... But he was anyway. A sickening, icy fear ran through his whole body.
"What have you done, Tony?" he whispered. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. Tony didn't say anything. He sat in the chair in front of him, watching him, seeming smaller than usual. For a moment Steve even though he looked guilty, apologetic. But it was gone immediately, and Tony put on a carefree smile and shrugged.
"It’s just gossip, that's all. As I said, it'll die down soon. No one's going to believe it."
Steve left without a word. He didn't have the energy for Tony's frivolity. He didn't have the energy to explain anything to him. His head was still pounding, his heart wouldn't slow down, and the look on that arrogant face wasn't helping. He hobbled to the elevator, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.
Steve had spent the last two hours in his apartment. He sat in his chair, barely moving, just watching the blank wall across from him. He managed to calm himself, his fear eased, though it didn't disappear completely. And the anger he'd had at Tony after he'd left had cooled, too.
He thought the whole thing over again. Rationally, logically. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about coming out since he woke up. He didn't know much about public attitudes towards homosexuality these days, but it was clear to him that people were much more tolerant than in his time. But he probably wouldn't have been able to convince himself. This slip of Tony's might have served him well, though.
He was still scared. If he was just a regular ordinary citizen, it would be easier, but he was Captain America. A national icon. Everyone knew him, he had several museums across the states. People admired him. He was afraid that admitting it would put people off. He couldn't let that happen. How could he protect the world if people hated him?
"Jarvis? Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course, Captain, ask. I'll try to answer you as best I can."
Steve smiled, staying quiet for a moment longer, trying to form his question. "What is the public attitude towards people of a different orientation?"
"You mean gays and lesbians, Captain? Certainly different than in your time. Many famous celebrities have made their coming out and people still acknowledge them and it hasn't hurt their careers. Nowadays there are many laws protecting members of the LGBTQ community. The whole month of July is known as Pride month and there are pride marches and various charity events. No one can be fired from their job for their orientation, and gay marriage has been allowed throughout the United States since June twenty-sixth, 2015. Gay couples are also allowed to adopt children."
"Sounds good," Steve muttered, more to himself and at least partially relieved.
"But there's another side to that coin, Captain," Jarvis warned him. "There are still people and groups who are fundamentally opposed to homosexuality. Most often they protest during Pride marches and their views are, shall we say, antediluvian."
He wasn't surprised. You can try all you want, but you'll never convince everyone of your truth.
"Thank you, Jarvis..."
"Mr Stark was telling the truth, Captain. What's being written about you now is going to disappear fast. People will hold on to it longer because it's about you and Mr Stark, but eventually, it will be forgotten. You needn't worry."
Steve smiled a little and nodded, feeling better. "Is Tony still in the workshop?"
"He's in the kitchen now, making coffee. Should I tell him you're asking for him?"
"No need, Jarvis. I'll go and see him."
Steve made his way to the lift, still easing his cut leg a little. His wound would heal by tomorrow, but until then he would have to endure it. He needed to talk to Tony. But no sooner had he reached the common floor and greeted Tony - he murmured a greeting back, not even looking up from the coffee machine - than Jarvis spoke again.
"Sir, Captain, Agent Romanov is calling. It's about Hulk, he's obviously a little off the chain."
Steve froze. He glanced quickly at the screen, where Jarvis had already played the camera footage for them. The Hulk had just picked up one of the cars and was hurling it against the building.
"Shit! Where is he, Jarvis?"
"Dr Banner was giving a lecture at NYU today, and after turning into Hulk, he headed east."
"Give me a ride?" Steve turned to Tony, who nodded quickly.
"Yeah. Out in five minutes. Hurry up."
Tony held him tight and flew at top speed towards the university. The air hummed around Steve's ears, yet he was able to communicate with Natasha.
"How's it looking out there?"
"Bad, Cap!" She was breathing hard. "I've been trying to calm him down, but he won't listen. He's just furious."
Steve cursed softly, trying to catch a glimpse of Hulk. It wasn't that hard once they descended lower. Hulk was tearing through the streets, destroying anything that came under his huge green hands. People ran screaming for cover.
"Let me go," he said to Tony. "On him if possible."
Tony's red-and-gold mask turned on him, and Steve could clearly picture Tony's expression. "That's some kind of perversion of yours, jumping from high places without a parachute, isn't it?"
"Cut it out, Tony, and drop me at him."
"Whatever you say, you lunatic. But try using the shield a little this time, so you don't dislocate your shoulder again."
They moved right above Hulk, Tony descended a little lower and let Steve go. He flipped upside down in mid-air and curled up behind the shield just before impact. The impact threw Hulk off, with enough force to tear up the asphalt. Steve immediately regretted the idea.
"Are you alive?" came Tony's voice from the earpiece. With a grunt, Steve rolled onto his back and managed to catch a glimpse of a red and gold blur in the sky.
"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Tony."
Tony chuckled in amusement. "You'd better get up, our big guy is coming towards you. You got a plan?"
Steve scrambled to his feet and looked around. Hulk was still picking himself up off the ground, but judging by the growls and roars, he hadn't calmed down one bit. Not that Steve expected him to.
"We need him to lose consciousness. Is your suit strong enough to take him up to at least seven kilometres?"
"Not this one, Cap, but I can have another one sent over. It'll take a while, though."
"How much?"
"Five minutes."
Steve sighed and nodded. That would do. "Romanov, Barton, we need to keep Hulk occupied for five minutes. Try to get him as close to Square Park as possible."
"I'm afraid you're on your own, Captain. You've pissed him off," Clint said with clear amusement in his voice. Steve couldn't see him, but he knew he was high up somewhere, watching everything closely. Hulk finally jumped to his feet, roared again, and ran towards Steve.
"Shit," he whispered, running at top speed. Hulk was on his heels, bouncing away, and if Tony hadn't warned him in time, Steve would have had him on his back.
"Did you hear him? He cursed," Natasha joined in.
"And Captain Language! America takes the lead, running forward, jumping over the car and showing his annoyingly perfect ass to the world!" Tony exclaimed like a proper race commentator. Natasha and Clint laughed. Only Steve was putting his life on the line here, and for a moment, just for a moment, he thought he was too old for this nonsense.
"Get these people off the streets!" he yelled. A few yards in front of him, a group of students stood with cell phones pointed at them. Steve never understood how they could risk their lives like that just for a video.
Natasha appeared out of nowhere and the next moment the students ran into the subway entrance. When he ran past her, she gave him a thumbs up. Why did everyone have to make fun of him today?
"Hulk's gonna jump, you gotta move, Capsicle!"
He didn't move, but he stopped and ducked. Hulk jumped over him, and Steve quickly took off again, running over him and throwing his shield at him in the air. He hoped, prayed sincerely, that it would hit him in the head and knock him out. He hit him in the head, but it had no effect. His shield came back, Steve gripped it tightly, slowed his fall with a roll, and started running again.
"Barton, make sure the park is clear!"
"Roger!"
"You're jumping like a chamois, Cap. You should take it easy at your age," Tony teased him again. Steve grinned and jumped over another of the cars. He had the park in his sights, saw the fleeing civilians and Clint waving his arms at them shouting something.
"Tony?"
"Just one more second, give me one more second!"
"You'll get two seconds if you need to, just promise me it'll work!"
"You don't like lying, captain."
Steve growled angrily and looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of Tony. He misstepped, a wave of pain shot from his cut foot and shot through his body, and Steve slumped to the ground. The ground shook, Hulk recoiled, and Steve just managed to duck behind his shield, expecting the impact. But it didn't happen.
The wind whistled over his head and Tony slammed into Hulk, changing his trajectory. The next moment, Hulk was flying over his head, his hands in huge red handcuffs. Tony, whose suit was now much larger, held his leg and flew him up quickly.
"Get him over the park, Tony! You've got to get above the park with him!" He instructed him. Scrambling to his feet again, he ran to the edge of the park and watched the red and green blur disappear.
"I'm here, Cap! What now?" He echoed after a moment.
"Let him go."
"What? What's with the falling from high places today!" Tony protested, clearly not liking his plan at all. Steve had to act fast, or Tony was in danger of taking something into his head and doing something utterly stupid.
"Hulk has to lose consciousness for Banner to come back! It won't hurt him! You have to let him go, Tony."
Tony paused, Steve was beginning to accept that he wasn't going to listen to him. "I hope you know what you're doing."
The ground shook, chunks of dirt flew through the air, and the cracking of trees tore at his ears. But Hulk's roar was no more. Steve ran to the newly formed small crater and with a sigh found Hulk gone. Bruce lay in the dirt and Steve could clearly hear his breathing and heartbeat. He was fine.
Tony landed beside him, also checking Bruce with a glance, then turned to Steve. "You know I could have just pulled him up even higher? The air's thin up there, he'd be in limbo in no time."
Steve blinked, straightened up and gave Tony a sincere look. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Of course not. That's why I'm usually the brains of this team," he uttered smugly, then looked around with a nod. "But yeah, this was a better plan. The crater will only do this park good. Every park should have its own Hulk-shaped crater."
Steve hung his head on his chest, chuckled softly, then looked up at him again. "Hey, did you seriously call my ass annoyingly perfect?"
"Yep."
"No one's making you look at it, do you even know that?"
"It's hard not to look, you're shoving it in everyone's face."
"I hate you, Tony."
"And I hate you, Cap."
Tony patted him on the shoulder and they both burst out laughing. The adrenaline was wearing off, Bruce was waking up, and Steve wasn't concerned at the moment that they'd managed to mess up New York again. He helped Bruce to his feet, Natasha brought him some new clothes, and Clint brought them a quinjet. Just another normal day in the life of a normal Avenger.
They headed to SHIELD base.