a national treasure

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Tony jerks awake, head groggy but pushing past it because, god, Steve is staring down at him and that means he’s okay, the nuke’s gone, the aliens are dead. Everyone’s alive. They’ll live another day, to see tomorrow, and Tony – he can’t help but grin at his boyfriend, “I have a date.”

Steve wants to yell at him, he wants to shake Tony and tell him not to ever do that again, he wants to cry, to hug Tony and never, ever let go, but he can’t move, the relief of hearing Tony hitting him so forcefully he’s frozen to the spot.

“I kissed you,” Steve brings himself to say. God, the city is in shambles and there’s a cut on Tony’s forehead, and Steve thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

Tony grin turns soft. “Oh. Good. Do it again.”

Steve does.

Once, twice, thrice, four times.

He would have done it a fifth time if Natasha hadn’t cleared her throat through the comms and pointed out that while the Chitauri are gone, they still have a Loki problem.

“And shawarma after?” Tony asks hopefully, in it a question of whether Steve’s forgiven Tony’s choice to go through the portal.

Sometimes, his boyfriend can be ridiculously thick – Steve would forgive Tony anything as long as Tony’s alive, and it was never really Tony’s fault in the first place.

The World Security Council is going to get a long, overdue talk from Steve soon, but for now, Steve nods, standing up and offering a hand to help lift Tony and his armor up too.

“It’s a date,” he promises.

Tony smiles.

And Steve steps forward, standing on Tony’s boots and latching on. “Head up to the Tower,” Steve tells Clint, Thor, and the Hulk, “find your own ride.”

This time, when they fly together, Steve tucks his head against Tony’s neck, relishing every second, treasuring the feel of Tony’s pulse against his cheek, proof that he’s here, alive and warm and very much Steve’s.

They put Loki in chains. They send him back to Asgard, but not before what ends up being a team dinner at the half-demolished shawarma place three blocks down from the Tower.

The poor owner nearly faints when the six fully-costumed Avengers trudge through the broken windows, and if he gets a massive business grant two days later in the name of reconstruction aid, it’s simply pure coincidence.

Neither Steve nor Tony begrudge the team for crashing in on their date – saving the world together is a bonding experience, after all – and they’re too busy being grateful that they’re both alive to care too much.

To everyone’s chagrin and amusement, the cut on Tony’s forehead is covered with a Captain America band aid, the little red, white and blue shields cheerfully staring back at them.

“I’ll consider your offer to move in to the Tower,” Bruce chimes in around his mouthful of food, “under one condition.”

“And what’s that?” Tony asks.

Bruce sends him a look full of warning. “That you put up soundproof floors.”

“And walls,” Natasha adds.

Clint nods. “And vents.”

Thor glances around with a frown, chugging down a mug of beer. “Do you not find joy in knowing the passion between your friends? They are both beautiful men to watch.”

Steve sighs as he meets the look that Tony gives him. “No,” he sternly orders, “we are not filming a sex tape.”

“I hate to tell you, dear,” Tony bats his lashes at Steve, “but JARVIS’ cameras record everything, everywhere.”

“Men,” Natasha mutters.

“Mr Stark – are you – is the Steve you’re dating – is he – ”

“Calm down, kid,” Tony grins, moving the video call to one of his holoscreens so he can better enjoy Peter’s shock. The kid’s obviously buzzing with energy, hair a tangled mess, Legos strewn about on the bed behind him.

It gives Tony peace of mind that Peter’s alright, and his aunt’s apartment undamaged.

“Are you dating CaptainAmerica?”

“Sure am.”

Peter lets out something between a squeal and a squawk. Then, with an awe-filled whisper, he leans into the camera. “Captain America’s not straight?”

Tony laughs. “I checked thoroughly last night.”

“Ugh, gross, Mr Stark, I don’t want to know about that.”

“Teenagers,” Tony shakes his head ruefully, “I wasn’t referring to anything.”

Wisely, Peter chooses to ignore him. “Can I meet Steve now? I mean, you must be busy, but could I – may I – ”

Tony stops him again before he can ramble on and on. “Kid. Of course you can. But you gotta answer one question first.” When Peter nods eagerly, Tony goes on. “Who’s your favorite Avenger?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Peter pretends to think, smirking into the camera. “I have to say Thor.”

“Traitor,” Tony hisses, but he can’t stop himself from laughing, “I’m disowning you.”

“Too late, Mr Stark, we’re connected.”

Tony realises – too late indeed – that Peter’s genius and budding talent for sarcasm might mix too well with Steve’s tendency to break laws and drive Tony insane. They both have that ability to widen their eyes innocently to escape trouble, and to hide their role in creating said trouble.

Wow, Tony can’t wait for them to meet.

The government offers to give all the Avengers a Presidential Medal of Honor. Tony rolls his eyes, knowing that it’s a shoddy attempt at glamour to try and stop Steve’s warpath against them for sending a nuke against the city.

Steve ignored a Medal of Honor once during the war. It isn’t any hardship for him to ignore this one, too, and when Senator Stern attempts to reach out to the team through Tony, he puts the man on loudspeaker and winks at Steve.

“Yes, Senator,” Tony pretends to agree, “I do know that I’m a national treasure.”

“That’s, uh, not exactly what I meant, Mr Stark, but it would be wonderful if the Avengers could – ”

Tony cuts in, unable to bear the Senator’s voice any longer than necessary. “Yeah, I think we are at a misunderstanding here. When I said national treasure, I meant I’m Captain America’s treasure. And he’s definitely got better ways to claim me than a Medal of Honor.”

“Mr Stark – that’s – are you implying – ”

“Have a good day, Senator. If you call again, I’ll leave you on hold,” Tony grins as Steve does his best to muffle his laugh, “I like watching the line blink.”

Steve does claim Tony that night.

Very, very thoroughly.

They do get their dance.

Steve comes down to Tony’s lab with a stereo box and drags him out to the helipad, stepping past the half-rebuilt glass doors and towards a dinner table teeming with Tony’s favorite foods. They eat, and they talk, and when the first stars start to shine above them, Steve holds out one hand for Tony to take as the first notes of a waltz drifts into the air.

Just four days ago, Tony had flown into the inky darkness two hundred feet above the very spot their standing on. Whenever Tony closes his eyes, he can see the blueish glow of the Chitauri ships, can feel the weightlessness of floating in space, and the emptiness of it.

Steve’s hand is steadying, though, and for the first time in days, the stars don’t remind Tony of death.

They remind him of the brightness in Steve’s eyes.

“I thought you said you were a bad dancer,” he lets Steve lead. Tony’s had enough lessons to take either position, and Steve smiles shyly down.

“I took the time to learn,” Steve steps back and to the left, “if I take my guy to a dance, I’ll do it properly.”

Tony leans into Steve’s chest, giving up on his feet to just sway against Steve’s warmth, and the closeness of it. “I love you,” he murmurs, tucking his head under Steve’s chin, “so much.”

“I love you, too,” Steve falls still, his hands moving from Tony’s side to wrap completely around him, pulling him even closer, “I’m glad you’re alive. So much more than you know.”

“When I heard a nuke was coming in,” Tony admits, his voice muffled against Steve’s shirt, “I didn’t really think about the millions of people in the city. I just thought that you were there and if it blew up, you’d die, too.”

Steve kisses the top of Tony’s head, the edges of his curls tickling Steve’s nose, but the familiar scent of Tony’s hair gel is calming and grounding.

He hadn’t thought of that, of how scared and desperate Tony must also have been to keep him alive.

“I’m here,” Steve reminds him. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming back to me.”

A beat.

And then, Tony presses his own kiss against Steve’s heart.

“I’ll always come back to you.”