Chapter 1
“Tony.”
Steve couldn’t believe it. The man was lying in a heap on the floor of his work room, mewling to himself softly. Dirty glasses with mouth stains scattered the area, empty bottles of liquor surrounding the table above his body. The floor was grimed and sticky from spilled alcohol, inches away from Tony’s half-lidded eyes.
A soft hum seemed to come from the general direction of Tony in response. Steve breathed slowly, his chest starting to burn in frustration, and calmed himself. He couldn’t stand Tony on a bad day, and couldn’t bare being around him when he was drunk and half-conscious. But, as always, no one was around to make sure Tony was well and accounted for in his bed, so Steve took it upon himself to keep Tony’s wearabouts known, including when it was here.
Steve carefully stepped around the strewn glass cups littering Tony’s area, particularly the shot glasses carefully settled on their side, ready to roll away at the slightest touch.
“What’s this about, Tony?” Steve asked tentively. Tony wasn’t one to get like this every night, but it happened often enough that Steve knew something was plaguing his mind if he got himself here.
Tony hummed, closing his eyes and relaxing his body.
“No, Tony,” Steve sighed, scrunching his nose. The smell of alcohol was strong in the room, it reeked off Tony. “You aren’t sleeping on the floor.”
Tony made a distant noise of protest as Steve rolled him slightly toward his chest, wrapping his arms around Tony’s chest and legs until Tony was safely entangled in his embrace.
Steve grimaced at the strong stench of alcohol wafting from Tony. With a soft sigh, knowing he couldn’t leave his friend like this, however annoying it was, he tipped his head toward the ceiling.
“Jarvis, run a bath, please?”
“Of course, Captain.”
Steve carried Tony toward the bathroom, careful to avoid hitting his head on doorframes. He readily ignored the bubbly gurgles and hums Tony occasionally made, directed at him or not.
The bathroom was unreasonably huge, per Tony’s unusual sense of style, so Steve had no trouble fitting themselves in. He set Tony down on the toilet, lid closed, so he could check the water.
When it felt right, just warm enough to clean Tony but cold enough not to shock him, Steve paused.
He hadn’t really considered that Tony probably didn’t take baths in his clothes. Modesty wasn’t what it used to be, especially not for Tony, but Tony was his friend, and Steve didn’t fancy seeing him naked.
After a brief period of consideration, Steve decided to strip Tony to his underwear, and the time it’d take to make Tony stay in his bed after would dry them, anyway.
Steve moved Tony’s hands away from his chest, that were tucked under his armpits to hug himself. Tony protested, but was ignored. Steve carefully unbuttoned Tony’s shirt, revealing his bare chest. Steve had seen it plenty of times, yet his cheeks flushed none the less. His eyes rested briefly on the slightly glowing arc reactor, then he removed them.
Tony seemed to find his voice as the last button was removed form it’s tie and Steve pulled away the top.
“You tryna get me into bed, Rogers?” Tony joked, his voice thick. It was light, but Steve knew Tony was anything but happy tonight.
“I’m trying to get you in the bath, so move your arm so I can get your shirt off.”
Tony huffed and inched his arm away, freeing the shirt of his body. Steve moved on to his pants, quickly unbuttoning the two buttons and unzipping. Tony seemed to understand, and thankfully stayed silent as he wiggled his legs to slide off the jeans.
Tony was left in his plain black underwear, tightly fitted to his body. Steve couldn’t stop his neck from going red: it certainly left nothing to the imagination.
“Like what you see?” Tony lightly swayed his butt, laughing softly. Steve stayed silent, rolling his eyes, and lifted Tony to his shoulder.
Carefully, he inserted Tony into the warm water, earning a loud, relieved sigh from him. Tony relaxed into the feeling, submerging himself until only his head was above water.
Steve let him soak for a few minutes, watching carefully to make sure Tony didn’t start to drown or something, before readying the shampoo. Tony dunked his head briefly, wetting his hair at Steve’s command. Steve kneeled by the tub, tugging his sleeves to his elbows.
Pouring the strong-smelling blue liquid into his palm, Steve rubbed them together, creating a bubbly mix. Carefully, he ran his hands through Tony’s surprisingly thick hair, his fingers gripping softly.
Tony closed his eyes and hummed again, louder than before. Steve gently massaged the shampoo into his head, pressing his fingertips and flattening his palms. Tony leaned slightly into the touch, the water rippling around him.
“Harder, that feels good,” Tony muttered, his shoulders relaxing against the edge of the tub. His head was practically out of the tub at this point, inches away from Steve’s chest.
“Why does everything you say sound sexual?” Steve asked, digging his fingers into Tony’s scalp and lifting his arms slightly to press harder.
“You know how long it’s been since I got a massage?” Tony drawled, his words slow and deliberate. His mind was focused on Steve’s hands exploring Tony’s head.
Tony seemed to be sobering up, at least a little. Steve laughed quietly, slowing his movements and gently rubbing behind Tony’s ears.
Tony groaned, his eyes fluttering.
“Damn, you’re good at this,” he said quietly, still stumbling slightly on his words. Steve stayed silent, watching Tony closely.
Dipping his finger in the water, Steve realized it was becoming cold. He reached for a rinsing cup nearby, and let it fill halfway with the water. Dipping Tony’s head, he slowly ran the water over his hair, repeating again until the shampoo was gone.
Tony’s throat vibrated, but no sound came out. His eyes remained closed, twitching slightly at the water’s touch. Soon, his hair was clean.
Steve paused briefly, then reached for the white cloth nearby. Dipping it in the water, he carefully leaned Tony back toward the opposite end of the tub, with no complaints from him.
Steve breathed slowly as his hand, holding the cloth, steadily rubbed Tony’s chest down, leaving a trail of bubbles. It was firm and strong, even under fabric. He trailed down Tony’s arms, focusing on his sticky hands from holding the glasses, and making sure to rub the grime and sweat from the earlier days work.
Tonys chest moved steadily, the only indication he was even alive. He was still under Steve’s, or the cloths, touch.
Gently rubbing Tony’s neck, Steve lowered to Tony’s taunt stomach, pressing harder to remove the dried sweat lining from his shirts. Tony breathed softly, licking his lips.
Steve didn’t have to guess hard to figure out why he didn’t want to go lower. He swallowed, and removed his hand, ignoring the small whine from Tony.
“You’re drunk,” he muttered, folding the cloth and setting it on the edge of the tub.
“I liked you before I was drunk,” Tony whined, but he didn’t move to stop Steve from grasping for the rinsing cup and rushing water over his arms and chest.
“Yes, but you’re drunk now,” Steve argued, “and if we were to ever do something like that- not that I’m saying we would- it wouldn’t be when you’re drunk.”
Steve’s face was hot. He knew Tony had always favoured him a little more than normal, but he wasn’t anticipating him to ever admit it. But maybe it was the booze talking.
It wasn’t that Steve hadn’t considered spending a night with Tony, but rather he didn’t want to consider what happened after that. They were friends, teammates. They couldn’t have a one night stand and that be the end of it, that wasn’t how Steve did things, call him old-fashioned.
Steve reached over the pull the drain, brushing his arm against Tony’s, and paused. It was trembling slightly. Steve leaned back and frowned, looking at Tony.
He wasn’t crying, rather looked as if he might, which was a sight for someone like Tony, who hid his feelings behind a brick wall. His mouth was tight and his eyes were distant, determined not to look in Steve’s direction.
“Tony-“
“Nah,” Tony muttered, “don’t mind me, Cap.”
“Tony?” Steve couldn’t just pretend tonight never happened, or that he wanted to know why Tony had drunk himself into a stupor. “Why were you drinking?”
Tony stayed silent, closing his eyes and breathing out. Steve could tell he still wasn’t sober, albeit less drunk than before, but still wasn’t thinking like they normally would.
“Pepper said some things to me,” Tony muttered softly, relaxing back into the water, which was cold now.
“Such as?” Steve asked. He didn’t know Pepper well, but from what he knew she was a nice lady.
Tony paused for a while, and Steve waited.
“Steve?”
Steve looked at Tony, who’s eyes were still closed.
“Yes?”
“Could you ever love me?”
Steve’s mouth went numb. He blinked, surprised at the question. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. Tony still wasn’t looking at him.
“We’re teammates-“
“If we weren’t,” Tony said louder. Finally, his eyes opened, and they landed onto Steve’s.
Something about how red they were, how empty and tired they seemed compared to a few minutes ago, made Steve’s blood cold.
“If we weren’t teammates, if you didn’t see me as the mess I am everyday-“
“Tony-“
“Do you think you could fall in love with me?” Tony finished. Steve’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He was confused, very. He didn’t know if this was the booze talking, or if the booze was giving him the true confidence he apparently lacked without it.
A minute passed and Steve couldn’t form an answer, not from lack of having one, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.
Tony leaned back and nodded slowly, closing his eyes again. “Pepper couldn’t stay in love with me, either.”
Steve hands were chill in the warm air, that was heavy with confusion and a tight feeling in both of their chests.
“Yes.”
Tony opened his eyes and looked at him.
“Yes,” Steve said softly. “If I really consider it, I suppose I could.”
And he could. Tony and him: they were an odd pair. They fought, tore at each other’s throats constantly, and couldn’t stay in the same room together for more than an hour without an argument breaking out. But on the battlefield, it was different.
Steve’s chest hammered everytime Tony didn’t answer his comm, his eyes searched the air desperately for the bright suit everytime he needed help. He knew this was heavily based on friendship, on trust in his teammates, but if he thought, really thought, he wasn’t sure it was impossible to love him if they weren’t on a team.
Tony’s eyes didn’t leave Steve’s. A small smile curved on Tony’s lips. “I knew you were a softy for me all along, Cap.”
Steve rolled his eyes, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. This was what they did best: joke in tough times.
Steve leaned over and pulled the plug, the drain gurgling up the now chilling water. Steve stood and helped Tony stagger out of the tub, his body still heavy against his.
Steve grabbed a towel and wrapped the thick cloth against his arms, working his way across and down until he was rubbing Tony’s stomach.
Steve’s neck got heated again as he gently, quickly, brushed the towel over his underwear, drying it enough to keep it from dripping. Steve’s chest leaped at Tony’s quick breath, but no appearance was made, thankfully.
After drying his body, kneading the water droplets off carefully, he gently took Tony’s head into the towel and shook it slightly. Tony grunted in protest, already dizzy enough, earning a quiet laugh from Steve.
Steve gently combed Tony’s hair back, slicking it against his head, before grimacing and tufting it gently so it hung over his forehead. Tony huffed, his eyes heavy, obviously exhausted.
“Alright, I’ll get you to bed,” Steve said, more to himself than anything. “Can you walk?”
“Mhm.”
Tony stood, wobbled, and leaned on Steve’s shoulder, his towel wrapped tightly around his own. Steve led him carefully out of the bathroom, that still felt slightly steamed.
The hallway was cool against their steamed skin, causing Tony to huddle closer. Steve breathed in, the scent of alcohol gone, replaced by fresh Irish scented shampoo and Tony’s natural musk. Steve didn’t mind the smell.
Slowly, they made their way toward Tony’s bedroom, only a few doors from the bathroom Steve had chosen. God knows how many floors, how many bathrooms, this building had.
Tony’s bedroom looked relatively unused, probably because it was. The bed was large, with soft, red satin sheets and a ridiculously fluffy mattress. The room was carpeted, warming both of their feet.
Steve settled Tony in the bed with little resistance, splaying his body in the warm comfort of the bed away from the bathroom Steve could never forget now. Tony grumbled something into the pillow, seemingly positive. Steve gripped the blanket and reached to pull it up, but was met with Tony’s hand grabbing for his wrist.
“Sleep with me?” He asked softly.
Steve blinked, shocked.
“Not, like, fucking,” Tony mumbled, “just sleep here, with me. Because I’m lonely.”
Steve knew Tony was still drunk if he was admitting this. Steve swallowed, considering the implications if he entered this bed and basically cuddled with Tony Stark, and decided he didn’t care right now.
Steve carefully crawled into the large bed, sinking into the soft comfort. He sighed, and gently wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, pulling his back toward his own stomach.
Tony breathed, letting his own arm overlap with Steve’s. His body relaxed, and in minutes he was asleep, the booze officially taking over.
Steve breathed steadily into Tony’s neck, feeling Tony’s own breath rise and fall slowly as he slept peacefully for what must have been the first time in weeks. Steve bit his lip, his stomach burning against the hot of Tony’s back.
He must have stayed for at least an hour, listening to Tony sleep, before he carefully removed himself from the tangle of Tony. He watched him, seeing if he’d stir as Steve moved out of bed, but he didn’t.
As he stood, his body yearned to feel Tony’s roughly calloused hands against his again, and the heat of his skin against his own. But he continued walking toward the door, giving a quiet ask for Jarvis to inform him when Tony woke.
The hallway was eerily silent and cold, and Steve felt strangely alone. He reached his own room, and took to his bed, a simple mattress and a white blanket.
Tucking it to his chin, oddly cold for a body that never did get cool inside, Steve closed his eyes, and wondered if Tony would remember any of this tomorrow.