Chapter 12
“Iron Man – that actually sounds catchy,” Tony walks into breakfast to read the headline on Steve’s newspaper. “Not technically accurate. The suit’s a gold-titanium alloy, but it’s evocative, the imagery.”
Steve puts the paper down to reveal the box of donuts he’d been hiding. “Your breakfast,” he greets Tony with a smile, “I had to save these from Clint.”
“My hero,” Tony blows a kiss at Steve, taking the chair next to him at the table and leaning against Steve’s shoulder. “What do you think?”
“About Iron Man?” Steve asks. Tony nods, and he wraps an arm around Tony, pulling him even closer to Steve. “I like having my fella watching my back. As long as you don’t scare me half to death.”
While Tony still had nightmares about alien worlds, Steve had nightmares of portals closing and a world without Tony. It’s a sore spot between them – on a logical level, Steve understood why Tony did it, but on an emotional level, he hasn’t been able to let Tony out of his sight for more than five minutes. The near loss is still too raw.
They have to make a choice, though, because while the appearances of flying metal men around Stark Tower have been dismissed as tests for the company’s experimental robotics program, the appearance of a metal hero gained much more public concern and questions which couldn’t be avoided.
“I like the idea of being able to watch your back, too,” Tony admits, fingers tracing the words printed on the paper. “SHIELD wants to keep my identity secret, though.”
Steve doesn’t reply straight away. He takes a glazed donut from the box and holds it up in front of Tony’s lips, smiling when Tony takes two bites in quick succession, and finishing the rest of the donut himself. “It might protect you. It might do more harm.”
“What do you think I should do?” Tony shifts around to properly look at Steve, wanting to see exactly what Steve thought of the idea SHIELD had proposed to them.
Shaking his head, Steve replies, “I trust you. You should do whatever your heart thinks is right.”
Tony takes a bite of the chocolate donut Steve’s now holding out in front of him. “You’re a sap,” he complains. In retaliation, Steve pokes Tony’s nose with the bitten end of the donut, smearing some of the powder on the tip of it as Tony swats his arm away with a disgruntled, “hey!”
“You started it,” Steve tells Tony with the maturity of a ninety-four-year-old.
“Get a room, you two,” Bruce shouts from the room next door, and Tony grins at Steve.
“I love you, Brucie Bear!” he shouts before looping an arm around Steve’s neck to drag him down, planting a noisy kiss on Steve’s lips. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too, Tony, but let’s try to keep the Hulk away,” Steve laughs, already regretting his words, knowing what Tony’s going to say next.
“The Hulk in the bedroom would be interest – hey! You’re turning red. Do you actually like that thought? Naughty, Rogers,” Tony cackles, and Steve, with all the wisdom of his years, smears more of the donut on Tony’s nose.
Fury finds them sprawled on the floor, donuts scattered around them and their attention too busy on each other’s lips.
This time, Steve hears Fury’s muttering loud and clear: I am not running a kindergarten, damn it.
“Just read the lines, Tony, and it’ll all blow over soon,” Coulson sighs, handing a small stack of cue cards which Tony takes warily. He’s showered and gotten all the sauce off his – and Steve’s – face, dressed in a sharp suit Steve had promised to take off as soon as they got this over with.
“A bodyguard?” Tony scoffs, “I mean – bodyguard – that’s kind of flimsy, don’t you think?”
From the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha quirk an eyebrow. He’s 93% sure that she agrees with him, but Coulson just smiles serenely, “this isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Oh yeah, what about Steve?” Tony challenges, because if his email record can prove anything, it’s that they basically set themselves up for destruction. Even now, Tony knows that Steve is three floors down, meddling with the files JARVIS hacked from SHIELD’s servers.
Coulson’s smile stays firmly fixed on his face, “they learned their lesson about not putting me in charge.”
Steve watches as Tony powders his face with practiced ease, hiding the lingering bruise on his cheek from the battle, and concealing the cut on his forehead that Steve kisses every night to make it heal faster. DUM-E is ready with the camera, Butterfingers with the lights.
He thinks, for a moment, about all the reasons he’d had for wanting to avoid the filming process. Steve supports Tony’s passion for sharing what he can with the world through his videos, but it’s been a matter of hiding his identity from the world, about making sure no one knows the truth about Steve.
And now, the world knows that Captain America is back. The world knows about Steve Rogers. There’s no need to hide anymore.
“How do I look?” Tony flashes a smile at Steve, coy and uncertain at the same time. This is the first time Steve has actually watched Tony put on make up, and the artfulness of it awe-inspiring.
“You’re always beautifully handsome,” Steve walks over, gingerly tucking a stray strand of Tony’s curls behind his ear, careful to avoid ruining the hard work on his face. “And you have to teach me how, sometime.”
Tony grins, leaning up to press a quick peck on Steve’s lips. “Why? You got a fella to impress?”
“I think I might like to be on the camera sometime soon,” he admits. It’s a good cause. He can use his voice to be a little more like Tony – to inspire the world, to share a message, and maybe, just maybe, to educate the internet on how wrong they are to write those awful things about his boyfriend online.
There have also been people who have started to use the Captain America name for the wrong reasons, making it into a rally cry for an America that is far from her ideals of freedom, openness, and opportunity. The public ought to learn that Steve is not the saint they believe him to be, that he has an arrest record, that his story isn’t about a big hero but about the little guy.
The little guy who got his happy ending.
Shock flits quickly over Tony’s face, followed by an infectious eagerness. “They are going to love you.”
Steve shakes his head. “Not as much as you love me.”
“Don’t get sappy on me when there are cameras around, Rogers,” Tony accusingly pokes at his ribs, Steve darting away with a small laugh.
“Why?” he teases. “Does it make you flustered, sweetheart?”
As Tony sticks his tongue out at him, Steve decides he’s wrong. This isn’t an ending. It’s a beginning.
Tony moves U’s microphone slightly to the right, grinning at Steve. “I’ll show you how flustered I am after we get this show on the road.”
“Okay, I’ll go and let you record in peace,” he relents. The faster Tony finishes, the faster they can get on with their plans for the day, which will hopefully be free from any third-wheeling Avengers.
Behind him, Tony shouts, “don’t go too far!”
Steve gives him one last wave before he rounds the corner, gaze lingering on the small, happy quirk of Tony’s lips, buoyed by the knowledge that he was the one to put it there. Tony had been nervous about his first video post-Chitauri invasion, and it’s gratifying to know that Steve can help in some small way.
He won’t go far.
In fact, he’ll stand just around the corner, listening in for any sign that Tony needs help, and ready to jump in if he does. There are some fights, after all, that need not be fought alone.
The Avengers are a team for a reason.
And Steve and Tony – they’re partners for a reason, too.
Tony chews at his lip, eyes blinking under the bright light Butterfingers is holding up. He can do this. Read the cards, no need to think.
But the words don’t feel right, they sit heavily in Tony’s mind, false and shallow.
“There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred in New York,” he strays from the script, fumbling slightly, “I know that it’s confusing. I’m not the hero type, with this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made – largely public – and the truth is – ”
“Hey, honey,” Steve steps into the camera shot, pressing a kiss on Tony’s cheek, “you still recording?”
“Yeah,” Tony grumbles, but he’s smiling, leaning in as Steve wraps his arms around him from behind and tucks his chin over Tony’s shoulder.
“Of course you’re the hero type,” he murmurs in Tony’s ear, and Tony feels himself flush. Steve must have really not gone far, waiting faithfully for him to finish. The thought gives him strength, a reminder that whatever he chooses, he won’t be doing this alone.
He looks at the camera in DUM-E’s claw that he’d been speaking to, and he looks at the cards in his hands, the carefully worded sentences SHIELD crafted – and he turns to Steve’s eyes, bright and blue and trusting.
He thinks of all the lies in his life, the hurt and the deaths, and he thinks of Steve’s hand on his shoulder, warm and safe and steady, of Bruce’s spicy curry and Natasha’s ballet shoes, Thor breaking a plate and Clint collecting flowers.
Taking a deep breath, Tony nods, turning his head to brush a kiss along Steve’s jaw.
Steve gives his shoulder a little squeeze.
They both face the camera, meeting it dead in the eye.
“The truth is,” Steve grins, wide and unrepentant, “I’m dating Iron Man.”
“And I,” Tony winks, “am Iron Man.”