23.
The days between Christmas Eve and New Year's Day were spent in a quiet, lazy spirit. Fury had obviously left for Christmas vacation and so had most of the villains, since no one wanted anything from Steve and Stark Industries were on the same boat. They had nothing to do, and they were both taking proper advantage of it. Tony, of course, was holed up in the workshop for a few hours a day, alternately working on his suits, new inventions, or trying to find the slightest crumbs Ruby and the others might have left behind. Steve reminded him more than once of Einstein's definition of insanity, but he meant no harm. He understood him and tried to help, he just didn't know how. They were careful, they hadn't left a speck behind. And that certainly didn't make Tony feel any better.
Steve had nothing to do, and apart from his daily run, he was mostly lazy. Nightmares caught up with him almost every night, so he slept during the day. Either on the sofa on the shared floor or in Tony's workshop. Mostly he fell asleep alone, but upon waking he saw that Tony had joined him. Sometimes he slept with his feet tucked in the warmth between Steve's thighs, but mostly he just sat with him and worked, watched TV or read in those science magazines of his. Steve was grateful for that. His subconscious must have sensed Tony's presence and it made his sleep more restful.
It was the thirtieth of December and the tower was buzzing with energy. Tony gave his orders, disappeared, and left a team of five women and two men to get everything ready for the upcoming New Year's celebration. When Steve found a brand new suit in his closet that morning, he knew it was going to be a big event. But what else could you expect from Tony Stark?
Steve didn't disappear. He was leaning his elbows on the railing and watching everything curiously. Tony had a floor in the tower reserved for parties, which was not surprising. There was a bar, a pool table, darts, plenty of room for a buffet and countless seats, all complemented by a spectacular view of New York. Steve wondered how many people were coming.
He just watched for a while, but when he saw two young ladies lugging heavy boxes full of liquor, he followed them. He ignored the curious looks, just smiled and politely offered to help them. One of the girls almost dropped the box, and Steve didn't want to imagine how much such a box full of fine scotch cost. He helped them carry it to the bar and unload it onto the shelves. They exchanged a few pleasantries, but otherwise the ladies were quiet and just looked at him. He smiled, he was used to it.
He helped them with what he could and overheard their conversation as he left. They were whispering and obviously had no idea of his sensitive sences.
"Do you think it's true? That the two of them are dating?"
"Don't be stupid. You mustn't believe everything you read in the papers."
"Well, you're probably right... But what if?"
"Come on, Emily. Do you really think Stark would be into men in his old age? Why would he do that?"
"Probably love," Emily remarked, and the other girl laughed.
"Stark, that's right. Keep dreaming."
That ended their conversation, or more accurately, Steve didn't hear the rest. The elevator doors closed, leaving him in an uncomfortable silence. Stupid gossip girls, he thought in annoyance, and leaned his shoulder against the wall, arms folded.
"Where to, Captain?" Jarvis echoed, and only now did Steve realize the lift was standing still. He snapped back to reality.
"Where's Tony?"
"He's preparing apartments for the other members of the Avengers."
"Fine. TTake me there," he nodded and the elevator immediately started moving. He found Tony in the room that had been designated for Clint. He was standing against the wall with his back to him, a control panel in front of him, instructing Jarvis with words.
"We'll try it here first, Jarv, and if it works, you'll do it everywhere in the tower. Once when someone knocks on the door, twice when someone calls out to him, and three times when someone enters the room. But only if he's not wearing his hearing aid. We'll test the light intensity."
"Certainly, sir."
"Fine," Tony grumbled, already to himself, and turned his attention to the panel. Steve entered the room and suddenly the overhead lights flashed briefly three times. He froze and Tony immediately turned around. He nodded in satisfaction and smiled. "That'll do."
Steve cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement, but didn't ask. He walked over to him, hugged him from behind, and buried his face in the crook of his neck contentedly. The smell of Tony's cologne was a balm on his nerves.
"Jarvis and I are just trying something out," he explained, one hand continuing to dance across the panel, the other finding its way into Steve's hair. Stev sagged slightly at the knees, just enjoying Tony’s nimble fingers. "I know Clint doesn't wear his hearing aids when he doesn't have to. And then he doesn't even hear the bomb going off in the next room. So Jarvis will use the lights to let him know what's going on around him. And so he won't be scared if you sneak up on him from behind like you're sneaking up on me now."
That was... unusually considerate, Steve had to admit. But he didn't say anything out loud, just held him tighter and kissed his neck. Tony turned his head towards him.
"You okay?"
"Hm-mm," he agreed.
"You're not talking. It's never a good sign when you don't talk."
He looked at him in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah. It either means you're pissed or mortally offended," he grinned at him, but he was serious. "Or you've been offended by something. So? Confess to Uncle Scrooge."
Steve rolled his eyes. Tony hadn't stopped calling himself Uncle Scrooge since their conversation about Agent Cohen, and Steve still had no idea who Uncle Scrooge was supposed to be. When he looked him up on the internet, a picture of a duck popped up.
"It's no big deal, really," he assured him. Tony didn't dig further, just shrugged and turned back to the panel. Steve watched him, smiling to himself. Those women didn't know anything about Tony. They didn't know him like this. So why bother? He let him go, wanting to step back and give him space, only Tony wouldn't let him. He fell against his chest, bent at an unnatural angle. In doing so, he continued his work undisturbed.
"Who said you could stop? Hug me again," he ordered. Steve watched him, thought about it, and finally obeyed.
"Still good kind of weird?" Steve asked. Tony shook his head.
"Just good."
Steve's heart must have skipped a few beats. He remained breathlessly staring at him. Tony took no notice, his fingers dancing over the panel without hesitation, muttering under his beard. A satisfied smile spread across Steve's face, the three words tickling his tongue. He hadn't said them, no. It was too soon. He'd vowed to take baby steps, he didn't want to scare Tony and drive him away. So he kept quiet, just kissed them into his skin and held him tighter to him. Tony laughed.
"Yeah, yeah, puppy, just cling on," he teased. Steve called him princess. Tony frowned. Steve laughed. They ended on Clint's couch doing the devil’s tango (shhh, Clint doesn't need to know).
Natasha and Bruce returned to the tower shortly after lunch, both happy and rested. And hand in hand. Steve watched them from the kitchen, smiling. They deserved each other. He stole a moment to talk to Bruce about Agent Nilsson's research. He didn't seem upset. He was angry with Fury, yes, but fortunately he wasn't planning anything radical. Steve could imagine that Natasha had been beating sense into him all through the holidays. He'd talked to her, too. She seemed fine, but Steve could see that she was moving more cautiously, often wrapping her arms around her body in a feeble attempt to defend herself. He pretended not to see, just offered her a helping hand and, as Tony later put it, a shoulder to cry on.
Clint joined them in the evening and Steve didn’t hesitate to talk to him as well. He couldn't help it, he had to make sure that all of his teammates were okay. And it seemed they were. No one was reserved about living together, they all met on the common floor that very evening, had ice cream from Steve's ice cream maker, and spent an hour arguing about what movie to watch. Tony unashamedly and with a pompous asked "Is this seat taken?" and sat between Steve's thighs and leaned against his chest. No one said anything. No one looked at them strangely. And Steve was able to relax, calm down (his heart rate shot through the roof again and he just prayed sincerely that Tony wouldn't feel it) and enjoy a quiet evening with them. Before they watched the movie, Tony had insisted on one episode of Duck Tales and yeah, now he understood why Tony referred to himself as Uncle Scrooge. He just missed the top hat.
"When's the wedding?" Clint teased and Tony replied without blinking, "When you find yourself a girlfriend."
Clint's expression was mysterious and strange. He smiled to himself, glanced back at the television and remained silent. Steve thought about it, Clint had the most secrets of the two of them. He never revealed much about himself, often disappearing for days without a word, and when he returned he never said directly where he was or what he was doing. Did he have a wife and family somewhere? Steve shook his head at that and dismissed the idea. He put a pillow under his head, closed his eyes and just listened to the film. But he could feel the calloused palm slipping into his, pulling it closer and entwining their fingers. He smiled. If only time could stop.
For the third time, Tony's cufflink fell to the floor and bounced under the dresser. He left it lying there and picked up another, his eyes still fixed firmly on the screen. He checked his work after Jarvis, just in case. He needed to make sure with his own eyes that everything was as it should be. He'd added cameras on the party floor during the day before, making sure there were no blind spots anywhere and that every square foot was covered on at least three sides. Jarvis was tasked with scanning everyone who entered the tower and alerting them to any hidden weapons.
He was nervous. Of course he was. He hadn't meant to set this up in the first place, but Natasha reminded them to act normal. And he threw a New Year's party every year. That was his normal. Taking a deep breath, he tore his eyes away from the screen and finally managed to put the cufflinks on their place. He kicked the others under the cabinet. His housekeeper'd find them there.
"Everything will be fine, sir. Do not worry," Jarvis comforted him. He gave a half-mouth smile. He prayed it would be. They were too vulnerable now. And all in one place. He didn't doubt Jarvis's abilities, hell, he'd built and installed the defense systems himself. There was no safer place than the tower. He knew that. Still, he was worried. What if they are not going to follow the pattern? What if they show up here tonight and try something? Hell, so many what-ifs. He shook his head at that, rested his palms on the dresser, and forced himself to take deep breaths. He really didn't need a panic attack right now. He closed his eyes.
"Where's Steve, Jarvis?"
"In his room, sir. He's just getting dressed."
He grinned and headed for the elevator. Was Steve planning to be late, like a big star? But that was Tony’s thing, after all.
Without knocking, he slipped into the apartment and made his way to the bedroom with sure steps. Steve stood in front of the mirror, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and was just working on the buttons of his shirt. He paused for a moment and their eyes met in the mirror. He smiled. He always smiled when he saw Tony. Was he really that happy about him? Fool.
"You're going to be late, Captain," he warned, not that he particularly cared. He ran his hands down Steve’s sides, hugging him from behind, his palms resting on his exposed stomach. There was the familiar heat of his body. Tony closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his shoulder. He let out a long breath.
"I still have ten minutes," Steve replied with a smile, not moving. It was clear he was watching Tony in the reflection in the mirror. Tony grabbed him tighter around his narrow waist with one hand and wandered lower with the other. With a practiced motion, he undid both the belt and the button and zipper on Steve’s trousers. Steve shivered.
"Tony..." he admonished him gently. Tony looked up and their gazes met again in the mirror. Steve didn't look directly disapproving, thankfully. Tony's beard brushed gently against the back of his neck, which sent shivers down Steve’s body, goosebumps appearing on his skin.
"My head is full of that shit," Tony whispered in his ear in a low voice. He saw Steve's eyelids droop as he drew air into his lungs. Tony knew how much he liked listening to him. "All of it. I just want to take the edge off."
He grabbed Steve’s crotch through the fabric of his pants and with his other hand, a little clumsily, undid the few buttons Steve'd managed to button. He ran his palm down Steve’s chest and brushed his fingertips against one nipple. It was pink and stiff, and Tony longed to suck and caress it with his teeth. He knew full well how Steve would tense up and moan. His mouth had gone dry, he licked his lips. He circled his finger around the nipple mindlessly.
"What do you say? You just lie there nicely for me on that perfectly made bed and let me take care of you," he continued, making sure his voice was a barely audible whisper next to Steve's ear. He shivered under Tony’s hands, his chest heaving with powerful breaths, and the captain in his pants responded positively. Very positively. Tony squeezed him encouragingly and rubbed his palm over the fabric. A heavy sigh was his only response. "I just want an empty head, Steve. An empty head and you in my mouth."
His battle was won. Steve nodded briefly a few times and searched his eyes. Tony chuckled smugly, kissed him softly on the neck and led him to the bed. He liked the way Steve always melted under his hands as the façade of Captain America crumbled. His reactions were genuine, he wasn't playing any games.
Steve sat down on the bed and Tony took off his jacket, hanging it on the open door. He felt Steve’s gaze on him and saw the amused smile.
"Red?"
"Maroon," Tony corrected and smoothed the fold of his jacket before he returned to him. Steve moved higher on the bed, lay down, and Tony captured his lips in a deep kiss. He sighed contentedly, he loved Steve's lips. Soft, sweet, perfect .
"It suits you."
"I know," Tony crooned, taking his time to make his way down Steve's body. He kissed every inch of skin he could reach, his thumb brushing the hollow of his hipbone. Gradually he sucked both of his nipples into his mouth, gently biting them and running his tongue over the tip. Steve gasped shakily at his actions and his body tensed.
"We-we're really going to be late," Steve panted.
"Hmmm, does that bother you?"
"Not really- Aah!"
Tony chuckled, squeezing him in the palm of his hand again and covering those last few inches in kisses at speed. Steve lifted himself up, Tony pulled his pants and underwear down only as far as they needed to go, and took him into his mouth without any more unnecessary waiting. His eyelids fluttered shut in pleasure.
Tony’s head was empty, just as he wanted it to be, and he was just willingly accepting the familiar weight on his tongue. Steve's scent wafted into his nose. He couldn't decide whether it was pleasant or not. It was heavy and heady, musky. Masculine. His stomach tickled and his crotch twitched.
He wasn't in a hurry, no. He wanted to savor it, prolong the moment as much as possible. He helped himself with his hand, showing off all his newly learned skills, and when he felt the first drops of pre-cum on his tongue, a satisfied moan rang out in his chest. Another twitch in his crotch. Damn.
He didn't stop. Oh God, he'd be a fool to stop. Steve rewarded him with the sweetest of sighs, his whole body shuddering. Tony felt his fingers in his hair, just gently raked them across the back of his head and rested there for a moment. Tony settled in better and ran his other hand into his pants. This was going to be a short process.
The brief squeeze of his shoulder was warning enough, and Tony hesitated only for a moment. No, he wasn't up to that yet. He pulled away and continued with just his hand. Steve came with his name on his lips and Tony followed just a few moments later. It was a miracle that not a drop ended up on their clothes.
He rested his forehead on Steve’s thigh and waited until he caught his breath. Standing up on wobbly legs, he disappeared into the bathroom and quickly washed his hands and rinsed his mouth. He buttoned his pants, tucked his shirt back in, and straightened his tie. He nodded contentedly, his hair not even disheveled. Too bad, he grinned and walked back. Steve hadn't moved. He was still lying down, his cock resting heavily on his thigh, his breathing still rapid and deep. Tony smiled. He went back to him and followed the same route he had taken up his body earlier, but this time heading upwards. And he was leaving well visible hickeys in his wake. On Steve’s thigh, on his hip, on his stomach... Steve flinched at the first one, and started laughing at the second. Tony left the last one at his collarbone.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm marking you. To let anyone who accidentally gets under your shirt tonight know that Captain America is off the hook."
He laughed again and raised himself up on his elbows. Tony pressed a kiss to his lips. "No one's getting under my shirt, Tony."
"Well you'd be surprised how pushy drunken ladies can be. Watch out for them."
"I'll take your advice to heart," he said wryly, "but are you forgetting that I'm a super soldier? I can stop a tank with my bare hands. I'm sure I can handle a drunken woman."
With a chuckle, Tony sat on his knees and started buttoning up Steve’s shirt. He took a satisfied look at the six purple stains he'd left behind. He knew they wouldn't stay long, they would be gone in a few hours. But it didn't matter, it was enough. Just a few hours. The few hours he would have to spend preferably on the other side of the room. They needed to be discreet, and tonight especially so.
"Don't underestimate drunken New York ladies, dear Steve. They'll rip your clothes off before you realise you've left with them. And before you know it, they're driving you away and you realize you're just another notch in their belt."
Steve cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Isn't it usually the other way around?"
Tony tied and straightened Steve’s tie, smiled and patted his cheek. "You're such a sweet puppy when you're naive. I know you've heard it many times, but welcome to the twenty-first century. Nowadays, girls don't wait until marriage."
Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled and they both stood up. They adjusted themselves, put on their jackets and assessed each other with a critical eye. Tony swallowed hard, Steve looked damn good in his suit. He smoothed his lapels and dusted his shoulders and nodded in satisfaction.
"There. Now you can go and break some girls’ hearts."
"Girls’?" He smiled.
"Well, just mine, then," he chuckled, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. "But it really breaks my heart, you know? Not being able to touch all this gorgeousness all night."
"You'll survive, don't worry," he assured him. Tony puffed out his cheeks in displeasure, but nodded. And then he noticed them. They were lying on the bedside table, all alone. Steve's dog tags! They'd been very visible under his shirt; it had been thoughtful of him to take them off. Without asking, Tony picked them up and hid them in his trouser pocket. Steve raised his eyebrows.
"Well, this is being confiscated for now. You can come back for them after midnight."
With that, Tony pushed past him and headed for the elevator. Just in time, Steve caught him around the waist and pulled him close to his body.
"You can have them," he whispered seductively in Tony’s ear, "but only on the condition that you wear them afterwards. Just them..."
Tony gave a completely undignified yelp and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He swallowed hard. And he agreed.
Of course, they were late, but no one seemed to mind. The party was already in full swing, the music was loud, the waiters were expertly weaving through people with trays of alcohol, and both men and women were dancing or standing along the walls and buffet tables talking amongst themselves. No one was bothered by the host's absence.
Tony took a glass of wine from a passing waiter with a deep breath and assessed the situation with an experienced eye, and Steve did the same. He was not too surprised to discover that he didn't know more than half the people. And Tony was probably in the same position.
"I'm going to be a responsible host," Tony said, and without looking at him, he blended into the crowd. Steve watched his sure footsteps for a moment and the bright smiles he threw in all directions. When people noticed him, they enthusiastically engaged him in conversation, Tony drank and danced with them and seemed to be in his element. Steve smiled. He also took a glass of wine, just to blend in and keep a bit of a low profile.
He was never good at short polite conversations, but he'd outdone himself today. He'd talked to a lot of people, most of whom he knew from SHIELD. Tony didn't like inviting them, but, that being said, they all had to act normal. He had talked to Maria Hill and several agents who worked closely with them. Fury hadn't come, he never went to parties like this. Steve exchanged a few words with Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, and when he was really at his wits end, he retreated into the company of the Avengers. He played pool with Clint and politely declined to “bust a move” with Natasha. He and Tony never ran into each other. They avoided each other at all cost and Steve often felt they were too obvious. But no one said anything.
Shortly after nine o'clock, the elevator doors opened again and Steve smiled contentedly. Amanda and her two bodyguards stepped out. She held one of them under the elbow. She listened to the bustle of the party, then leaned over to them and said something. They both looked around immediately, and when the eyes of one of them, a man with an eagle nose that had certainly been broken several times, rested on Steve, all three of them took a step towards him. Steve walked to meet them.
"Dr. Griffin," he said with a smile. Her face lit up. She looked much better than when he saw her before Christmas. Relaxed, calm and content. She wore a dress of cream colour and her hair flowed in waves around her face. Steve wondered peripherally how a blind person could groom herself so well and not see herself.
"Good to hear you again, Steve," she replied, still smiling, and let go of the man in the suit. She turned to both of them. "I'll stay with Steve, you can go and maybe get something to drink."
"We're on duty, Doctor," the eagle-nosed man said. Amanda gave him a mischievous grin. "Just one beer so you don't offend your host. What do you say, Patrick?"
The two men exchanged glances and nodded, but didn't leave right away. They measured Steve with wary glances. He returned their gaze without blinking. He understood them, they were just doing their jobs.
"I'll take care of her," he assured them. Amanda's snort didn't escape his attention even over the din of the music, but the smile never left her face.
"Good. If anything, we're still here, Doctor. Just make the call."
"Thank you, Adam."
The two men turned on their heel and immediately strode toward the bar. Amanda turned back to Steve. Her eyebrows flew up.
"You will take care of me?" She repeated. Steve felt his ears flare. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. Had he offended her somehow? Hell, he'd never dealt with a blind person and didn't know what he could do and what was already too much. Amanda let him stew in his own juices for a moment, then waved her hand and laughed.
"You're adorable when you're embarrassed."
"How do you know I'm embarrassed?" he hissed unhapilly. She laughed again.
"You get quiet. People usually shut up, stutter, or get overly loud when they're embarrassed."
Steve glanced down at the tips of his shoes and was surprised at how much he felt like a little boy in the principal's office. Amanda was sweet and friendly, yet she exuded tremendous authority. She reminded him of Peggy.
"I thought I offended you," he muttered. Amanda smiled at him.
"A little, yes, but that's okay. Everybody does that. Anyway, I'm going to need your help today, there are too many people here."
Steve noticed she didn't have a cane. It would be stupid to bring one, she'd hit someone in the ankle with it any minute. He nodded understandingly.
"May I?" She held out her hand to him, and it took him a moment to realize what she was asking. He offered her his elbow, guiding her with a tentative, gentle touch, and Amanda grabbed onto him, pushing herself against his side. She placed her other palm on his arm. Her face was content, and she tilted her head back and forth, listening.
"Would you like something to drink? Wine, champagne..."
"Beer?" she chuckled. Steve chuckled softly, nodded, and led her through the mass of bodies to the bar. "How are you doing, Steve?"
"Good," he replied. "Within reason. The other Avengers have moved into the tower now, and I guess it's going to be pretty hectic... But other than that, everything's fine, except..." he didn't finish, Amanda knew. She nodded.
"I don't envy you at all, believe me," she sighed. "The Avengers will now have an official base in Stark Tower?"
"Sort of," he smiled. "It's all about team bonding. We're five individuals and teamwork is still a bit of a problem. We thought this might help."
"I'll definitely keep my fingers crossed." They reached the bar, Steve let go of Amanda for a moment and leaned over the bar. He pulled a beer from a large container of ice, opened it, and looked around. "Want a glass?"
"No, give it here," she laughed, taking the beer from him and taking a sip straight from the bottle. She sighed contentedly. "It tastes best straight from the bottle."
"I agree with that," Tony echoed, pushing past Steve and over to Amanda. He gently, just slightly, ran his palm over Steve’s back. It was enough to send a pleasant chill down Steve's spine.
"Hey, darling." Tony hugged Amanda briefly, kissing her on both cheeks. "Are you satisfied with your monkeys?"
"They're actually very nice men," she replied. "Did you know Patric has six sisters? And Adam used to sing in the choir before he started boxing. Who would think that?"
They both laughed, and Steve didn't miss the look Tony gave him. A look that seemed to say "Yeah, who would think that?"
"I'll leave you two again, I just wanted to say hi. I made a bet with Rhodes that I'd gulp down a beer faster than him and I'd hate to keep him waiting."
With that Tony grabbed four beers, gave them a beaming smile, squeezed very close around Steve and disappeared into the crowd.
"Here we go again," Amanda remarked, taking another sip. He looked at her.
"Do they do this often?"
"Every time," she grinned in amusement. "And Tony always wins. But Rhodey is determined to beat him someday."
Steve laughed and looked back curiously at the sound of the chanting. He saw Tony and Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes surrounded by a group of young women and a few men, both of them with a bottle of beer in ther hands. Tony won by at least five seconds. Rhodey immediately demanded a rematch. Tony agreed. It didn't escape Steve's notice that Tony had one hand casually tucked in his pocket. The pocket that held his dog tags. Steve realized that whenever he saw Tony that night, his hand was in his pocket. Did hold them? A strange warmth spread in his chest.
"So... you and Tony..." began Amanda, leaving the sentence unfinished. Steve looked down at her, and for perhaps the first time, he felt no fear. Slowly, really slowly, he was coming to terms with who he was, and moreover, he subconsciously felt that he had no reason to be afraid of Amanda and her reaction. He smiled. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. But no, no one was paying attention to them. A group of women were standing a short distance away and one of the bartenders was trying to get their phone numbers. He was apparently being very successful.
"Did he tell you?"
"When I came in before Christmas," she nodded. "He mentioned. I guess you ended up together, didn't you?"
He agreed and Amanda smiled gently. She swirled the beer in her bottle and seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Be patient with him, Steve, I beg of you. I'm not going to lie to you, living with Tony certainly isn't, never has been and never will be easy, but it's worth it. It really is."
"I'm trying."
"You are a strong and understanding man. Tolerant. Even the blind can see that, as you can see," she pointed to her eyes and laughed at her own joke, but then continued seriously, "Tony will test you. He'll try to drive you insane just to see what you're capable of and how much you can take. And if you can get past all that, if you can convince him that you're really serious about him and accept him for who he is... then he'll stop. He'll still be Tony, and extravagant and... and just his usual self, but he won't tempt you anymore and he'll trust you. In the meantime, he'll provoke and annoy you. Making fun of your favorite music, beliefs, and just about anything that fits. But that's just so he can see who you really are.
“Tony doesn't trust people, Steve," she smiled unhappily and looked up at him. Steve stared into those blind milky white eyes and a chill ran down his spine. He swallowed hard. Those eyes might not see the world around them, but they could see into people's souls all too well. "And there's a reason for that. He has been betrayed by more close friends in his life than you can imagine. And that's why he'd rather not really trust anyone than go through it again. It took me years before he started to trust me. So did Pepper, Happy, Rhodey... Give him time for everything, Steve. I'm asking you to."
Amanda spoke slowly and calmly, but there was urgency in her voice. A seriousness. Every word she said was imprinted on his mind and he really took them to heart because she was giving him a view of Tony that he had never seen and probably wouldn't see for a long time. If ever.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I care about Tony. And I believe he finally deserves his happily ever after," she said, taking a sip and smiling. "He's serious about you, even though he may not realize it himself."
"How do you know?"
"Look at him," she urged, and Steve obeyed. "He's not flirting. Am I right?"
Steve watched him in silence, slowly realizing that yes, Amanda was right. Tony was always flirting with everyone, whenever he could. He threw seductive smiles in all directions and knew exactly which note to play. Steve remembered how he used to be sick of it. Lately, Tony had been doing it less and less, almost not at all. Only when he really wanted something he sis resort to flirting. Tonight, he wasn’t. He was still his own self (Steve had to chuckle at his choice of words), but he was holding back. When he smiled, it wasn't to make women go crazy for him and fall into his bed one by one. He was polite, cheerful, and a great host. And he kept his hand in his pocket at all times. Steve imagined how he is playing with his dog tags and got goosebumps.
He tore his gaze away from Tony, shook his head, smiling, and changed the subject instead. "I thought you weren't supposed to talk about your patients."
Amanda laughed. "That's true, yes. I'm not allowed to talk about what I discuss with patients in therapy. But I haven't been Tony's psychiatrist for very long."
"Psychiatrist?" He cocked an uncomprehending eyebrow. "I thought you were a psychologist."
"It's a dirty word, Steve," she explained mysteriously. He leaned his elbow on the bar. He liked listening to her, liked the tone of her voice. It was soothing, gentle. He wasn't surprised that Tony had opened up to her. "It's okay to see a psychologist, you know? Because you just talk, there's nothing weird about it. But a psychiatrist can already diagnose you as crazy, write papers and give you medication. Happy pills. If you go to psychiatrist, you're a freak to society. A mentally ill person that everyone looks down on. That's why I prefer to say I'm a psychologist. My patients know it's just a little harmless lie, and they're usually happy to continue it with me. But otherwise, yes, I am a psychiatrist. I have a degree from a school, I can prescribe antidepressants and hypnotics, and I occasionally go to psychiatric hospitals to help their residents."
"In my day, even psychologist was a dirty word," he said with a half-smile. Amanda shook her head sadly, took a sip of her beer and let out a long sigh.
"Well, times are changing. Almost everyone goes to a psychologist for sessions these days. I'm sure you were rushed to see one too when you woke up."
Steve didn't answer, looking at her expressionlessly. He didn't like remembering those conversations. The man he'd spoken to wasn't exactly professional. And he was more interested in stories from the World War II era than Steve's condition. Amanda pulled back.
"Now I've upset you, haven't I?"
He gave a vague shrug. "Not really."
She was silent for a moment, her blind eyes staring into the void somewhere through him, before she placed her palm on his forearm. For perhaps the first time that evening, he was inclined to flinch, but he didn't.
"If you ever need to talk... to someone who won't judge you and has no personal ties to you, feel free to call me. It can be totally off the record, just like I do with Tony."
"That won't be necessary, thank you," he retorted immediately. He didn't want to talk to anyone about any of this. It was the last thing he wanted. To go back to that time and go through it again. No. He was handling it on his own and didn't need anyone to feel sorry for him. "There are others who definitely need your help and have been through worse."
"You do know that this is one of the signs of trauma?" She smiled. "The fact that you say you're not as bad off as others."
Steve didn't answer, not wanting to continue this conversation. He turned to the bar, reached for his glass and poured himself an orange juice. Amanda was fiddling with the beer bottle, switching it from one hand to the other.
"I just want you to know that there's that option. I'm not forcing you into anything."
"Thank you. I appreciate it," he smiled and took a sip.
"May I see you?" She said so abruptly that Steve almost inhaled his drink. He watched her in confusion.
"See?"
She set the bottle down and wiggled her fingers in front of his face.
"See," she nodded.
Steve understood. He watched her awkwardly and finally agreed. He guided her again so she wouldn't poke his eye out, and the next moment she lightly touched his face with her fingertips. They were cold and wet from the bottle, he jerked.
"Am I cold? Sorry," she hummed, tracing his face with careful but sure movements. She skimmed down his cheekbones and jaw, over his eyebrows, his nose, and even traced the outline of his mouth. Steve watched her, his gaze flicking to the space behind her head several times before he looked down again. It was strange, but not unpleasant. He'd just never experienced anything like it.
"It's hard to describe someone to a blind person," she said. "People tend to tell you hair and eye colour and that's the end of it. I've been blind for ten years and colors jare just not important for me anymore. My world is just a jumble of dark and light. I'm not completely blind, I can tell if the light is on and I can show you where the sun is in the sky, but that's it. So I don't really care if you're a blue-eyed blond, although I remember that it's usually a very nice combination. You have nice lips. And a wide jaw, very nice too," she uttered casually, and Steve felt his ears burning again. He swallowed.
When she stopped, she put her hands on his shoulders and smiled, her face decorated with wrinkles, and said, "You're a very handsome man, Steve."
His cheeks were on fire now, and that didn't happen often. He stammered, not really knowing what he should say. The skin where Amanda had touched him tingled, as if he was still aware of her touch. Of course he was getting attention from women, but it was uncomfortable and unwanted attention. They were trying to flirt with him, and Steve was nervous, awkward, and didn't know how to politely turn them down, so he ended up getting caught in an uncomfortable rut himself, like he had with Agent Cohen. Amanda's attentions hadn't been unpleasant, and he hadn't been nervous about her until now. He was taken aback by her absolute honesty.
"Th-thank you?" he finally stammered, making her laugh again. She stopped pestering him, went back to her beer, and grabbed his elbow again.
"Let's engage in some conversation, shall we? We've stood here long enough."
He agreed, cooling his face with his own palm, and they strode together towards the small group of people. Later that evening, he introduced her to the rest of the team and Maria Hill. It wasn't long before all four of them were talking to her like old friends. Amanda was outgoing and friendly, so it wasn't hard to like her. Natasha was wary at first, as she was of any new person, but that too soon subsided. Clint was the most enthusiastic about her and very soon jokes about the blind and deaf were flying out of both of them with such ease that Steve raised an eyebrow at it.
"I'm glad I'm not the only cripple here," Clint said, and they both laughed at that. Amanda wasn't offended by it; rather, she seemed to like it too. They took up a sofa at the far end of the room and talked incessantly on a variety of topics. Amanda supplied them with amusing stories about Tony, who must have had some kind of radar, because whenever his name was mentioned, he would appear at their sides and listen intently. He laughed with them, drinking champagne after champagne, his eyes shining happily. But he did not stay long, always leaving to entertain the other guests.
Later, when everyone had plucked up the courage, the question was raised as to how Amanda had actually gone blind. She gave them a mysterious but a little strained smile, and replied, "I'm not drunk enough for that. Maybe later."
Clint brought her another beer and you could tell how curious he was. But no one asked again. Each of them had events written in their past that they didn't want to talk about, so they could tell when they got close. Thoughtfulness was in order at that moment.
Tony was just laughing at some story Rhodey was telling when the countdown clock on the wall next to him started. It was ten minutes to midnight, plenty of time for everyone to get ready for the fireworks and find a full glass for their New Year's toast. Tony played with Steve's dog tags in his pocket, took a few steps away, and searched the crowd for Steve with his gaze. He was still sitting on the sofa next to Amanda, who hadn't let go of him the entire time. He wasn't surprised, she always did this. Crowds were tricky for her, she couldn't navigate by ear and her white cane was becoming a weapon of mass destruction at the moment. Therefore, she was dependent on someone close to her and their willingness to keep her company throughout the night.
Tony pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and sent Steve a text, whereupon he looked up. He watched Steve’s reaction carefully. Steve leaned in a little and his hand flew to his pocket, but that was all. He didn't pull out his cell phone, continuing to pay attention to Hill. Tony stammered discontentedly, sending one message after another. Steve's frustration grew, but eventually he resigned. The cell phone appeared in his hand and he quickly scanned the screen. Tony sent another message. Surprise filled Steve’s face at first before a soft smile settled on his lips. Tony's stomach did a strange thing, and he had no desire at the moment to investigate what it meant. He set his glass down, returned his cell phone to his pocket and grabbed Rhodey's elbow.
"I'll be right back, I've got to run an errand."
"Sure," he laughed cheerfully and patted him on the shoulder. "But be back by midnight! New Year's isn't the same without you, Tony!"
"I can't promise you anything."
Tony smiled. The alcohol went to his friend's head earlier than usual today. No wonder, he'd spent the last week as an Iron Patriot in a war zone somewhere. Tony knew it would do its toll on Rhodey’s nerves and even though he was a seasoned soldier, he too needed a moment to relax. Alcohol was great for that.
Tony disappeared into the elevator and went to the common floor. It was quiet and dim, Jarvis had turned on only a few spot lights around the perimeter of the ceiling. Tony checked his watch. Seven minutes to midnight. He nodded to himself, took a drink of water and loosened his tie. When he glanced at the watch again, it was eleven fifty-five. Only five more minutes. At that moment, the elevator doors opened again.
Steve listened tensely. Hill was talking about the latest problem weighing on SHIELD, and frankly, it was really interesting. She held back on all the details, aware of Amanda's presence and also of the several dozen people who weren't authorized to know anything about it.
"There are more and more of them and it's awfully hard to detect them," she told them. She was talking about people who were experiencing unexplained mutations, many of whom had developed superhuman abilities. This usually occurred after some very stressful situation where the person in question was in life-threatening danger or after accidents. Sometimes they were born this way.
"Most of the time it's not something you would notice right away," Hill explained. "A super strength or a mind reader. These people continue to try to live normal lives... mostly," she sighed and took a sip.
"Mostly?" Amanda dared to ask. Hill gave her an unhappy smile.
"Sometimes they're thugs and take advantage of it. They steal, they murder, and the very ambitious ones take up a fight with the underworld in Hell's Kitchen to get a position. It's a fucking mess, believe me."
"Steve, she said a dirty word!" Natasha responded immediately, and Steve gave her an unimpressed look. Everyone burst out laughing.
"Why doesn't Fury ask for help?" Clint wondered. This time the unimpressed look appeared on Hill's face.
"We want you to save the world when a wormhole opens up in the sky or two Vikings are fighting. We can handle these people on our own. Like I said, they're mostly trying to be normal. They don't cause trouble. But when we learn about them, we have to find them and register them. And try to recruit them."
Steve grimaced, he didn't like the word register one bit. On the one hand, he understood that they were just doing it to keep everyone safe, but on the other, it was taking away their freedom. They were under constant scrutiny.
"But I promise if it grows over our head, we'll call you in," she smiled and turned towards Amanda. "But now you have to tell me another story about Stark."
Amanda laughed, but agreed, and after a brief thought, she started. Steve watched Hill for a moment longer, wondering if she knew. If she knew that they had a mole in SHIELD that was responsible for all of this. Did she know about him? Was she part of the plan? Steve sincerely prayed and hoped not.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He tensed in surprise and reached for it, but paused at the last moment. It was rude, pulling out his cell phone in public, he didn't like it himself. But the vibration started to go off again and again and finally he couldn't stand it and pulled it out of his pocket. Tony texted he. Surprised and uncomprehending, he scrolled through all twenty messages he'd managed to send in that brief moment. Only two, the first and the last, made sense. Between them was just a jumble of letters and a few 'heys'.
>> I need you for a while.
>>Meet me on the common floor in five minutes. Alone.
Steve smiled, still catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the vanishing figure all in red (maroon, he reminded himself). He pocketed his phone and just counted the seconds. He touched Amanda's hand.
"Wil you excuse me? I'll be right back," he smiled at her.
"Sure, Steve!" She smiled back and let go of him. Clint obligingly offered and took his place while Steve stood up, buttoned his jacket and strode to the elevator. His stomach fluttered strangely with excitement.
He found Tony upstairs, standing by the window with his hands in his pockets, looking through the window. When the elevator doors closed behind him, Tony turned around and a smile crossed his face. Steve returned the smile. The lights in the room were dimmed and soft, peaceful music began to pour from the speakers. Definitely not the kind Tony normally listened to. Steve suspected something.
"How are you enjoying the party?" Tony asked as Steve reached him.
"It's noisy," he grinned at him, "but otherwise very good. Amanda's been supplying us with stories about you."
"Yeah, I noticed." He rolled his eyes, then chuckled and crossed his arms behind Steve's neck. He was looking at him, a soft and slightly uncertain look in his eyes. "So, I was thinking..."
"About what?" Steve asked curiously, placing his hands on Tony’s hips. The music... it was a slow number. Steve wasn't stupid, he figured. Tony almost immediately began to sway to the beat with him. They pressed together, leaning against each other's cheek, just dancing in silence.
"I know you didn't get your dance with Peggy," Tony whispered, his breath brushing Steve’s ear. Steve shivered slightly. "And there's no way I'm trying to replace her, Peggy is irreplaceable. But I thought you might like to dance... with me."
He sounded uncertain and shy, not at all like Tony Stark. Steve's heart clenched. He didn't say anything, just lowered his head and pulled Tony closer to his body, never losing his rhythm. For a long time, only music echoed through the room, the two of them dancing tightly pressed against each other.
Peggy was irreplaceable, but Steve had come to terms with their lost time. Peggy was the past he hadn't been allowed to have, while Tony was the future. At least that was what he hoped for. He desperately hoped for it.
"I'm supposed to take it as everything's okay?" Tony asked tensely. "Because, heh... you're pretty bad to read, Steve. And I need some of that verbal feedback, so if you could-"
He silenced him with a kiss. A slow, gentle one that perhaps managed to convey everything he was feeling. Tony chuckled into the kiss, cupping his face in his hands and returning it.
"Sure, sure, puppy. Got it," he cooed. At that moment, the first fireworks lit up the sky behind his back. They both looked up, their faces illuminated by a colorful glow. More and more quickly came, from all corners of the world. The sky was aglow with colorful flowers, the whole world was celebrating the New Year, and Steve and Tony stood pressed against each other, just admiring the beauty.
"Happy New Year, Steve."
"Happy New Year, Tony," he returned softly, kissing him again. The world ceased to exist for a moment, once again enclosed in a fragile bubble that contained only the two of them.
They came back downstair a few minutes after midnight. Steve sacrificed himself and ran down the stairs, while Tony took the elevator down. He grabbed the first available glass and jumped up on the chair. He made an additional New Year's toast and no one complained about missing midnight. And Tony honestly didn't care. He clutched the dog tags in his pocket, turned his glass over in his hand, and sincerely wished everyone would leave already. He liked parties, oh my God, he loved them! That didn't change at all. But this was enough for tonight.
He walked over to their little group of Avengers and grabbed Amanda from behind by the shoulders. She jumped up, squealed, and put her palm on his hand. She laughed.
"Tony," she chided him gently. He grunted apologetically and met everyone's gaze. He waggled his eyebrows defiantly.
"How about we move upstairs? These guys," he pointed a thumb behind him at everyone else, "are going to be drinking and partying for a long time. Time for a private after party."
They all agreed, and in the few minutes it took Bruce to wait for the world to stop spinning and for Clint to hand Amanda back to Steve, they all went back upstairs. Rhodes, who already had a considerable amount of alcohol in his system, went with them and Tony had to support him. Only Hill didn't go with them, she apologized, said her goodbyes and went home.
The alcohol was flowing upstairs perhaps even more than downstairs. Private after parties were always the best. Tony laughed, drank, spinned and remembered at one point that he danced with Natasha on the table. His jacket was forgotten somewhere, his tie was tied around his head and he was entertaining everyone in the room.
They came back down a few minutes after midnight. Steve sacrificed himself and ran down the stairs, while Tony took the elevator down. He grabbed the first available glass and jumped up on the chair. He made an additional New Year's toast and no one complained about missing midnight. And Tony honestly didn't care. He clutched the dog tags in his pocket, turned his glass over in his hand, and sincerely wished everyone would leave already. He loved parties, oh my God, he loved them! It didn't change that at all. But that was enough for tonight.
He walked over to their little group of Avengers and grabbed Amanda from behind by the shoulders. She jumped up, squealed, and put her palm on his hand. She laughed.
"Tony," she chided him gently. He grunted apologetically and met everyone's gaze. He waggled his eyebrows defiantly.
"How about we move upstairs? These guys," he pointed a thumb behind him at everyone else, "are going to be drinking and partying for a long time. Time for a private after party."
They all agreed, and in the few minutes it took Bruce to wait for the world to stop spinning and for Clint to hand Amanda back to Steve, they all went back upstairs. Rhodes, who already had a considerable amount of alcohol in his blood, went with them and Tony had to support him. Only Hill didn't go with them, she apologized, they said their goodbyes and went home.
The alcohol was flowing upstairs perhaps even more than downstairs. Private after parties were always the best. Tony laughed, drank, fidgeted and remembered at one point dancing with Natasha on the table. His jacket forgotten somewhere, his tie tied around his head, he was entertaining everyone in the room.
Rhodey was the first to pass out, lying on the floor behind the sofa, asleep. Clint and Natasha were playing some dangerous knife game, Amanda was singing drunkenly and Bruce was very carefully giving some gummy bears a vodka vaccination. Once he was done, he tossed them to Tony, who occasionally managed to catch them in his mouth. Only Steve continued to drink his soft drink, smiling and leaning his elbows on his knees. Even his jacket was gone, safely draped over a chair in the kitchen, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. Tony touched him without shame, his drunken brain wondering what to do with him. Steve hadn't been drinking and he wouldn't get drunk, he'd have to drink a whole keg of whiskey. So what to do to get him to loosen up a bit?
He could almost feel it when an imaginary light bulb went off over his head. He stepped over Clint, hobbled over to Bruce and wrapped his arms around his neck.
"Brucie, honey, don't you think it's time for your mystery bag?"
Laughter rumbled through the room and Bruce flushed to the roots of his hair. He cleared his throat. "I'm sure that's not how you wanted to put it."
"I guess not. Whatever, go get him!" He bellowed. Bruce stood up, almost fell over, saluted, and disappeared. Steve was already suspicious. He alternately eyed the two of them questioningly, quirking an eyebrow but not asking. He just waited to see what would happen. Tony gave him a devilish grin.
"Weed!" Clint exclaimed excitedly as soon as the professor returned. He was obviously familiar with the secret of Bruce's red bag with the purple mandala. Amanda put down her glass with a clink.
"And I'm going home."
"What?" Tony asked, horrified. "No, Mandy, come on! Don't be a coward!" He hiccupped.
"No, Tony Stark, no. I remember all too well how I turned out the last time you and marijuana were in the same room," she laughed. "I've had enough for today and I don't need to be there for this. Natasha, Bruce, Clint, it was nice to meet you, but you'll have to excuse me. I'm old enough to be socially inept. Again," she smiled and stood up. From the far corner came her two monkeys, whose names Tony couldn't remember. They all said their goodbyes, Tony quite cordially, and the three left.
"My dear Steve," Tony began, stumbling over Clint and cursing before continuing, "I've decided it's time to spoil you a little. You're going to try the magic of weed tonight!" He threw up his hands and felt like a god. But Steve's unimpressed look spoiled the feeling for him.
"Tony, do you realize," Bruce spoke up, stepping on his tongue, "that marijuana was once used to treat asthma?"
Tony was amazed at how his Science Bro brain still worked after so many beers and that he could still spit out historical facts. But that didn't mean he wasn't hooked. His gaze went back to Steve, who gave him a brief nod of his head to confirm.
"I spoked it since I was fifteen," he confessed with a gentle smile. That was a very big hole in the plan, Tony thought bitterly.
"And have you tried it after the serum?"
"No," he chuckled. "Why should I? It won't work as well as alcohol."
"And what if it does?" Tony was back on his horse. Or on a pony, it didn't matter at the moment. "Let's give it a try. How much weed does a super soldier have to smoke to make it work on him? Jarv, put it on the board!"
"Certainly, sir."
A holographic board appeared next to them, with the aforementioned question in Tony's handwriting across it. Steve shook his head dismissively. He defended himself for a long time, saying that it just wouldn't work, but Tony was adamant. And when everyone else joined him, Natasha making eyes and Clint sending futile threats in the captain's direction, he finally agreed. And Tony felt like a god again. He would be a good god, a bit like Dionysos. God of technology, wine, parties, weed and good sex! Yeah, he'd be a good god. A really great one.
The following minutes, hours, days or weeks disappeared in a cloud of familiar smelling smoke. Bruce lit everyone's glass pipes, of which he had a good supply in all colours and shapes, and the world became strangely calm and relaxed. Tomorrow Tony might wonder about their team's openness to drugs, but today he didn't pay attention. He sat next to Bruce, resting his head on his shoulder and trying to blow smoke rings. He was never good at it, no matter how Bruce tried to explain it to him. As a result, he just looked like a fish out of water, pursing his lips and exhaling, but no rings appeared.
Natasha was the first to put down her pipe, Clint and Bruce soon joined in, and finally Tony. They'd had enough. Only Steve continued to prove them he was right. Tony couldn't remember how, but somehow he got from Bruce's shoulder to Steve's lap. He lay there, his head resting on Steve’s thigh, watching the smoke pouring out of his mouth in fascination. Steve knew how to do smoke rings and sent one or two Tony’s way every now and then. They would spill onto Tony's face, making him laugh every time. In between, though, he watched Steve's lips. They were really beautiful. Perfect. Pink and full. And they could do much more interesting things than smoke rings!
"Have I ever told you how good sex with a guy is?" he breathed dreamily. Steve coughed few times, and a hiccup came from where he suspected Clint was. He didn't let that put him off, he was relaxed and at ease and didn't care. "It's really amazing. Just... just… yeah. It's different than with a girl, of course it is. I'm not saying better, that would insult all the ladies, but I'm not saying worse. But it's just... just sex with a guy."
"Tell me about it," Natasha said. Tony rolled over onto his stomach to look at her.
"You certainly understand me!" He beamed. "Don't you, Nat? That we agree that sex with a man is divine? Indescribable!"
"I'd use different words, but yeah," she nodded. She lay on the floor next to Clint, both of them watching the ceiling. Tony sighed contentedly. He wanted to rest his head on Steve's thigh and continue to rave about sex, but Steve grabbed his chin. He looked up at him, a question on his tongue, but he didn't get to it. Steve leaned down, brushed his lips, and exhaled. Tony drew the smoke into his lungs, his eyes widened, and just watched his soldier. This was probably the sexiest thing he'd done all night. His head spun, and with a satisfied whimper, he lay back and exhaled. Steve giggled.
"Is it working yet?"
"No," he shook his head and scratched Tony's hair. "Told you."
"Go on then. The whole bag. Then I'll be convinced you have drug immunity."
"The whole bag?" Bruce asked sadly. Tony nodded. Steve's sigh was long and loud, but he didn't argue and continued to dispose of Bruce's supplies. He was smiling, gloating. And Tony was getting hungry.
He got up on wobbly legs, hobbled into the kitchen and pulled the first thing he saw out of the fridge. A packet of baby carrots. He nodded, sat back down next to Steve and started eating.
"Have you ever noticed how abandoned baby carrots are? So many little babies in one package and not a single parent," he sighed unhappily and mercilessly bit off the head of another baby carrot. Clint suddenly came to life. He scrambled to his feet, burped loudly, and declared with determination, "Then we'll assign them parents!"
Tony watched him with a certain terror in his eyes, waiting to see what he would come up with. But Clint just walked past them into the kitchen, pulled two large carrots out of the fridge and came back. He dropped down on his butt next to Tony and stuck both carrots in the package.
"Well, here. Mommy and Daddy," he uttered with satisfaction. Tony ate another baby carrot.
"Why not Daddy and Daddy?" He wondered. "Or mommy and mommy?"
"Why? Kids should have a mommy and daddy."
"Are you saying that if Steve and I adopt a baby or a dog someday, you'll be against it?" He asked, horrified. Clint laughed.
"Relax, Stark, relax. If you two ever adopt anything, I'll be more worried about the creature's life, not about it missing a woman's hand."
"You're mean!" Tony shouted in anger, dangling a carrot in front of his face.
The conversation could have taken a perfect turn, but they never got to it. Tony noticed (and was duly proud of himself, because he really noticed very little in the state he was in) that the smoke had subsided. Steve was no longer smoking, his pipe was on the table and Steve... Steve was gone.
"Steve?" He called, looking around. The heaving sounds pouring from the bathroom were very telling. Tony exchanged a look with everyone in the room before they burst out laughing. Steve threw up! The marijuana didn't work on him, of course! He'd overdone it and now it sounded like he was about to puke out of shape.
"Steve, are you alive?" he continued to holler, stumbling into the bathroom, laughter still roaring behind him. The soldier knelt with his head in the toilet bowl and retched again. Even Tony was chuckling. He soaked his hands in the ice water and placed them on Steve’s forehead and neck to cool him down a bit.
"Now, now," he hummed, "just get it out of youself. Good boy."
Steve had obviously planned to say something, something biting and nasty, but once again his stomach decided it didn't want to hold anything in. It only lasted a moment, maybe too long, Tony didn't know. The world spun with him, he could hear the hum of the fan and the sour smell of vomit didn't make him feel good. But he wasn't throwing up, oh god no. He was too proud for that, he never threw up.
Steve slumped into a sitting position next to the bowl and closed his eyes. He was glistening with sweat and his lips were covered in the residue of something, Tony preferred not to know what.
"I was right, soldier," he said with a laugh, grabbing a towel and wetting it. He cooled his face again, wiped the sweat and the rest of the digested food from his lips, and when Steve seemed to be feeling better, he helped him to his feet. The world rocked uncomfortably again, Tony bumped his back against the wall and laughed. God, this was going to be a great new year.
They went back to the others, Jarvis, the fans and the open patio door were doing their job, because there was no sign of the smell of marijuana anymore. Steve leaned a little on Tony's shoulder, breathing deeply. He said nothing, was quiet and pouting.
"We'll never look at you the same way again, old man," Natasha warned him. "You're just as mortal as we are now. Only we have a stronger stomach."
More laughter rang out from all corners of the room, and Steve didn't even look annoyed. He frowned, his gaze fixed on the ground, and it seemed he was about to strangle someone. Tony subconsciously knew he was first on the list.
