Those Are The Symptoms

“Which one’ll figure it out first?” Tony asked, stopping in the middle of waxing poetic about… science (?). Steve turned the page of American Iron and hummed.  Tony got on these tangents sometimes, he just wanted someone to at least pretend to listen. A boyfriend made a willing soundboard when Bruce wasn’t available. ”Which one?” It was nice being around Tony anyway, even when he was rambling.

Steve looked up from a thrilling article on motorcycle maintenance – he needed to check his bike whenever he was done being Yorick. There were so many places dirt and grime could get and mess things up. He’d had no idea. The robots probably did more work on his bike than he knew. It was how Tony showed affection. “What?”

“Buckaroo and Birdboy.” Tony replied as if it explained what he was talking about. Steve had apparently tuned out the part of the conversation he was supposed to participate in. “Which one’ll figure out we’re doing to horizontal tango first?”

“I’m contractually obligated to say Bucky as per our agreement from 1925.” He offered. It was probably the answer Tony had been expecting anyway, he thought. He turned his attention back to his article. He wondered if the robots had cleaned inside the tailpipe, he would check when they were done doing science. “He’ll need to get his hands out of Clint’s pants to notice anything, though.”

Bucky’d always been very single minded about sex. Even when it had been illegal.

“It’ll probably be Barnes,” Tony admitted, as he started writing something down on the chalkboard that had been brought in for some reason. Steve thought Bruce had said something about liking the smell of chalk. “But I’ll put my money on Barton just for the sake of the bet.”

Bet? Steve looked back up just in time to see Tony step up on his stepstool. He was wearing the tight jeans today, it was a good day. Steve would see if he could get Tony out of the jeans before Tony got too involved in whatever he was designing. If he let Tony fall down the rabbit hole, then he wasn’t going to see his boyfriend for at least a week.

If he made it seem like Tony’s idea then they could probably get in a round or two in the lab. He smiled at the thought and put his magazine down on the work table. As Tony turned around, he unzipped his hoodie. He was dating an easily distracted man. A glimpse of muscles and Tony couldn’t focus on work.

“We’re making a bet on it?”

“Of course, we are!” Tony waved his chalk through the air, still not looking at Steve. Whatever he was making was more interesting than the smedium shirt Steve had picked out for the occasion. Tony liked his grey Nike shirts. “I make bets about everything our friends do. I had to outfit Clint’s entire apartment building with StarkTech after betting him that Bruce and Nat were going to get together before last Christmas.”

“You bet on Natasha’s personal life against Clint?”

Tony shrugged. It was probably just another one of Tony’s attempts to hold Clint’s life together and keep him from dying. Bucky hadn’t exactly improved the actual status of Clint’s wellbeing if Steve was honest. Clint had fallen ten floors only the week before. He’d escaped the hospital despite his ruptured spleen and all of the broken ribs. Bucky was nursing him back to health.

“Do you think he’s enhanced?” Steve asked, suddenly curious. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but Clint did seem strangely hard to kill.

Tony looked back at him, eyes drifting over Steve’s torso. Perfect. “His blood says no. He just doesn’t die I guess.” It was a good skill to have when hanging around The Avengers he supposed. Barton had been near death more times than Steve could count. “I guess carnie life makes people more durable.”

Steve thought that was a bit rich coming from Tony, considering the number of times he hadn’t died in the past. For which Steve was grateful.

“What are you putting down for the bet then?” He asked, looking at Tony’s shoulders as they flexed against his tank top. Shit, he was good looking. Steve hadn’t even known he held interest in men until he’d met Tony. So that had been a shock.

“What do you want?”

Steve smiled up at Tony, “you gotta spend a week at mine.”

“FRIDAY isn’t hooked up to yours.” Steve knew that, and it was exactly the point. Tony needed to detox from all of the technology.

Steve gave a placating smile and nodded his head. “There’s not even internet.”

The strangled noise that escaped Tony’s throat was more than worth it.  Seeing Tony Stark go without internet for a week would be hilarious. He would probably film the day two meltdown. “Why?” He asked, putting his chalk down. When he turned around Steve noticed there was white powder all over the front of his tank top. Steve shrugged. “Fine, if I win then you gotta let me put internet in your apartment.”

“I’m allergic to internet. I can feel the radiation in my brain.”

“You’re going to have to live with it.”

Steve smiled, knowing he’d hit a tender spot. Tony loved when he talked about technology incorrectly. It was basically foreplay. “Technology is just there to rot our brains out and make us sheep.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. Speechless. Steve had won this round. Another strangled “why” left his lips as he reached out to touch one of his pet projects. Something about making his projector technology more affordable for schools? Steve hadn’t really been listening.

“Even our scientists are less intelligent than the ones in my day.” It would be more than enough to set Tony off and get him to forget their ridiculous bet in an attempt to prove he was better than Howard. He brought his magazine up again, rereading the section on cleaning mufflers.

He finished reading just in time to hear, “and another thing, they gave you heroin for asthma and told you to smoke” which was, Steve though, an incredibly good argument. He did still enjoy a good Marlboro.

***

Steve watched Bucky help Clint down onto the couch. Barton really needed to be in the medical ward, but apparently the two of them thought they knew better than the trained medical professionals. Steve was fairly certain Bucky had been smarter than that in 1942.

It was nice seeing Bucky be so gentle though. Steve had thought the caregiver part of Bucky’s personality had been crushed by Hydra and would never be seen again. He hid it well, only bringing it out for Clint’s benefit it seemed. He smiled at Clint before easing himself into the space next to Clint.

“Hey Buck.”

“Hi Steve.” Bucky waved as Clint pressed up against his side. Steve didn’t know if he’d ever be able to be that open with Tony. Their friends would have no problem with it, but Steve felt like tact was still an important thing. It wasn’t as though he’d flaunted his relationship with Peggy. He’d leave the public indecency to Bucky. It seemed unnecessary. “They’ve got Clint all doped up.”

Steve glanced at Clint and noticed that his eyes were incredibly unfocused. At least he’d agreed to take pain killers. In the past he’d just broken out of medical against orders without any sort of medication. Then they wouldn’t see him for two to three weeks.

“I can see that.”

Clint waved lazily up at him. How he had become a spy, Steve would never know. “We’re gonna grab pizza from that place near our apartment tonight, want to join?” Bucky offered, reaching out to help Clint put his hand back by his side. He’d really gotten the good stuff.

Steve shrugged, “got dinner with Tony tonight.” They could make of that what they wished.

Clint nodded, “They gotta talk about team shit.”

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna be doing.” Steve nodded, watching as Clint tried to burrow himself into Bucky’s side. “Talking.”