Chapter 1
Steve sat down and took his helmet off, sighing in relief. He had been fighting for the last five hours, and even if he could have continued for ten more, it was nice to finally be able to sit down. Letting himself relax, he leaned his head on the wall of the Quinjet and, out of the corner of his eye, he verified if everyone was there: Clint was sitting down in the driver’s seat, next to Natasha who would apparently be the co-pilot, Bruce was in front of him getting dressed, and Thor’s seat was empty as the God was not currently on Earth.
“Buckle up!” Clint ordered, though Steve knew perfectly well he didn’t mean it. Countless were the times in which Clint had taken off regardless the fact they had just boarded and hadn’t taken a sit yet. Steve remembered losing his balance and falling on Thor’s lap once. Clint had made fun of that for weeks.
“Sit down, Bruce,” Steve asked Bruce when he heard the doors starting to close, a sign that the Quinjet was just seconds away from taking off. Bruce obeyed, still buttoning up his shirt.
“Try not to crash, Legolas,” Tony warned from the closest seat to the door, surprising Steve. When had he arrived? Steve was sure he hadn’t been there some seconds ago.
“You wish!” Clint answered, a big grin on his face while he made the Quinjet rise. It wasn’t a subtle takeoff, but Steve figured that had been intentionally.
Turning his head to the right, Steve set his eyes on Tony, feeling something was off. Tony never flew back with them after the battles, he preferred to go solo. The only times Tony did ride with them was when he was too injured to make it to the Tower by himself, but that didn’t seem to be the case now, as Steve hadn’t heard anything about receiving a bad attack over the intercom – which was the way he usually found out if Tony had been badly injured, since Tony would never say it out loud, dreading too much to deal with the doctors.
When Tony took off his helmet, Steve scanned him with his eyes trying to detect any anomaly on him, but, besides the bags under his eyes – proof of the sleepless nights Tony kept stubbornly spending no matter how much everyone disagreed – and the sweat that ran freely on his face, there was nothing that showed something besides tiredness. Perhaps there was a wound hidden under his suit, though Steve doubted that. JARVIS tended to tell on his own creator when it was a matter of life or death.
So, why was Tony there?
During all the trip, Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Tony, just in case there was something wrong. Tony kept his eyes closed, head leaning back and arms resting on his lap, holding the helmet with his hands. Bruce asked him something related to the manufacture of some new guns in his suit, but Tony just mumbled an incomprehensible answer and groaned lazily when Bruce questioned him a second time, letting him know he didn’t want to have a conversation. Steve thought that wasn’t very Tony-like, he tended to gabble a lot, especially if it was something about his suit.
As soon as Clint landed on the Tower, Tony stood up and got off the Quinjet, before than anybody. Steve had to run to reach him and grab his upper arm in order to prevent him from leaving.
“Are you OK?” Steve asked him, pushing him to make him turn around and face him.
"I’m super-duper," Tony answered with a weak smile decorating his face, earning a confused look from Steve. Tony only used those old-fashion expressions when he wanted to mock Steve, yet there was no mocking in his tone of voice.
It took Steve some seconds to let Tony go, convinced there was nothing wrong with him, at least not physically. There still was something off, though, and Steve got the feeling he knew what it was.
- - - -
Steve switched the channels half-heartedly, not really paying attention to the TV. After a shower and a light dinner, he had settled on the sofa of the communal living room, often rubbing his eyes and shaking his head to prevent his tiredness from knocking him over. He might as well have gone to bed right away, but he wanted to be there when Tony showed up. Because even if Tony hadn't done so during the hour and a half Steve had been sitting there, Steve was sure he eventually would.
Ever since Tony had completely healed – his incontinence problem long gone as well as the use of diapers – everything went back to how it exactly had been before. Tony was reckless during battle again, he spent too much time in his workshop without sleeping and his diet consisted once more in just caffeine and junk food. No more reaching out for any of them, no more letting himself being taken care of, no more sharing the bed, no more cuddles.
The bad thing was that, now, whenever any of the team members tried to get Tony to sleep or eat something more nutritious, he argued he was more than capable of taking care of himself – something everybody doubted, as his decisions tended to show the opposite sometimes. And if any of them treated him in a way Tony considered childish in the slightest, he got angry. Very angry. So, eventually, everybody stopped trying to “boss him around”, as Tony put it, knowing the kind of reaction they would get and only putting their foot down when the situation called for it.
Steve didn’t argue about it, after all, Tony was right. He was an adult, not a kid. He didn’t need to be told what to do – well, sometimes, he kind of did, but that wasn’t the point. The fact that Steve missed tucking Tony in bed at night, having him cuddled against his chest as he read a book out loud, or being awaken in the middle of the night because of a wet and uncomfortable diaper, couldn’t do anything on the matter. If Tony didn’t want to do all those things anymore, Steve had to respect that decision.
But after some weeks, Steve started to notice a slight change in Tony’s behavior, usually when the latter seemed to be quite stress or tired. Instead of fleeing from the room, Tony tried to spend as much time as possible with any of them, even if he just stayed there in the same room without any kind of interaction. For a thousandth of a second, before losing his temper, Tony’s eyes looked with such a longingness whenever someone intended to reach for him, that it took all Steve’s will not to go and embrace him right there. And hesitation and desire emanating through every pore of Tony’s skin to say yes when anyone invited him to spend the night over at their floor, was impossible not to detect. Again, Steve had to refrain himself not to carry him to his room and cuddle him as Tony clearly – but stubbornly denied – wanted to do.
Because of that, Steve felt very tempted to do something about it. If Tony enjoyed something Steve was more than willing to give, why not doing it? He had to be careful though, Tony being Tony had the annoying habit of depraving himself of having what he wanted when it wasn’t related to material things. The last thing Steve wanted to do was pushing him further away.
When Steve’s attention was finally caught by a documentary about meerkats, he saw Tony entering the room out of the corner of his eye. With hesitancy, he walked toward him and flopped down onto the couch next to him. Even with his eyes focused on the screen, Steve could see the apprehension in Tony’s body.
"I don't know why I keep paying for the best cable TV there is, I might as well get JARVIS to buy all the most boring documentaries there are in the world and you would be set for life," Tony commented, reaching for a cushion and placing it against his stomach, hugging it lazily. Tony used to criticize Steve’s habits quite often, Steve was used to it by now. What he wasn't used to was the lack of sarcasm in his voice. Steve was sure Tony did try to sound sarcastic, though he just hadn't been able to.
"Well, my documentaries are more interesting and more educative than most of the things you watch," Steve stated, and he kept confirming there was something wrong when Tony didn't even bother to defend his taste in TV. That, and the fact that Tony stayed there, even if what was being played on the screen was totally dull according to him.
It was an hour before the documentary ended. Steve never moved his eyes from the screen, though he wouldn’t be able to answer what the documentary was about if somebody asked him, as his attention was completely focused on Tony.
For the first twenty minutes, Tony pretended to be watching the TV, something he couldn’t keep on doing when his eyes began to clearly refused to stay open. Nervously, he moved closer to Steve, inch by inch, until they were almost pressed together. Steve didn’t show any sign of being aware of what Tony was doing, afraid he might get ashamed and leave. If Tony wanted to have some sort of nearness, let him have it. Had it been up to Steve, he would have let Tony sit down on his lap and sleep right there. But if Tony wanted to do it furtively, Steve had no problem with letting him do it that way.
By the time the television network was announcing the next program, Tony had fallen asleep, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder in a way that assured he would experience neck pain the next day. Steve would have gladly stayed there, enjoying the closeness as much as he was sure Tony was, but said closeness had let his nose notice a no so pleasant scent coming from sweetly stubborn person next to him. Wondering if Tony had cleaned up after the battle, Steve forced himself to move.
“Tony,” Steve called as he shook his shoulder carefully, regretting having to wake him up, when it was more than obvious he could benefit from an undisturbed sleep, “Tony, buddy, wake up,” he asked. Several minutes went by before Tony could wake up, hazy brown eyes finding very difficult just to blink.
“Huh?” Tony expressed, rubbing his eyes as if he was trying to keep his desire to go back to sleep away. Steve could see how mortification took over Tony when he realized he was leaning against him, as well as the faded pink blush that immediately appeared on his cheeks as he straightened, looking everywhere but where Steve was.
“Sorry to wake you up buddy,” Steve apologized. He thought about excusing himself for waking him up by telling Tony he would be sore tomorrow if he kept sleeping in that uncomfortable position, but he rejected the idea, not wanting to highlight the fact he had realized what Tony had done, “but you stink,” he stated. Yes, Steve hadn’t meant to say it like that, but the words had left his mouth before he could think of another way to express it.
A chuckle escaped from his mouth when he saw the mixed expressions on Tony’s face. “I meant no offense, sorry. what I wanted was to ask you if you’d taken a shower after the battle,” he paraphrased, Tony raised an eyebrow while he tried to suppress a yawn, unsuccessfully. “Did you?” Steve insisted, Tony shook his head. “Buddy, you have to take a shower, you can’t go to bed like that, you won’t be comfortable.”
“Dun wanna,” Tony mumbled, lying on the couch ready to go back to sleep.
“I know you don’t, but you have to,” Steve informed, smiling fondly when he saw Tony taking a cushion and placing it over his head, “c’mon, up,” he ordered, but Tony just groaned. “Tony,” Steve called again, after waiting for Tony to show any sign of getting up for a couple of minutes, but he didn’t.
“Goway,” Tony grumbled against the cushion.
“No, you have to take a shower.”
“No.”
“Yes. So, you decide whether you do it, or I do it,” Steve warned, knowing perfectly well that treat would make Tony get up. He knew Steve was more than capable of bathing him if he wanted to.
“You,” Steve heard Tony say with a tiny voice.
“What?” Steve questioned, not sure of having heard correctly, “you want me to bath you?” he urged, but he didn’t receive any answer.
Steve stood up and placed himself in front of Tony, pushing the couch a little to let Tony know he was there and give him a change to speak up if he hadn’t meant what he had said. But he didn’t, and Steve wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.
Hesitantly, he leaned and slid his arms under Tony’s armpits, lifting him up. The last time Steve had tried to do this – when he had found Tony passed out on the couch of this workshop – Tony had gotten furious and had writhed and insulted him until Steve had finally let him go – not to mention Tony had even stopped talking to him for a couple of days. Steve was expecting Tony to do the same this time, so he was taken a bit aback when Tony latched onto him as soon as Steve set him on his hip, a protective arm around his waist. The realization of how much he had missed this hit Steve hard. He couldn’t help staying there for a brief moment and hugged him a bit too tightly, smiling to himself when Tony tightened his grip too instead of complaining about his action.
Walking carefully and rubbing slow circles onto Tony’s back, Steve rode the elevator to Tony’s room. Once there, he headed directly to the bathroom and opened the water tap of the bathtub, so it started to fill as he went back to Tony’s room to retrieve the clothes he would put on him after the bath.
When Steve set Tony down on the toilet seat and began to peel this t-shirt and pants off, Steve thought that would be the moment when Tony would awake from his stupor and would back out, but that didn’t happen. Steve even heard him whine when he moved away from him for some seconds in order to verify if the bath was ready and make sure the water was warm.
It was a quick bath, besides Tony’s plead of not wetting his head, he just sat back and let Steve do the job. Scrubbing a bit hard, yet tenderly, Steve made sure to get rid of all trail of dirt and sweat from Tony’s skin. By the time he had finished, Tony was already dozing off again. After an exhausting battle and staying who knows how many days in his workshop sleep-deprived, it was a wonder that Tony hadn’t fallen asleep inside his suit on their way back.
Letting the water drain out of the tub, Steve got up and grabbed the closest towel he could find. He wrapped it around Tony’s shoulders and helped him to stand up, not surprised anymore when Tony refused to walk and Steve had to pick him up again to take him out of the bathroom. Not that Steve minded, of course.
Once in the room, he placed Tony on his bed and started to dry him up gently with the towel, manipulating him into a t-shirt and some boxers when all the drops of water where gone from his body. The idea of diapering him crossed Steve’s mind, as there still were some diapers left, but he ruled it out almost immediately. An opportunity like this one couldn’t be wasted, and diapering him would probably be the thing that made Tony get angry and walk away. There was no valid excuse for doing so, Tony hadn’t had an accident in months.
Steve fought back the urge to take the towel back to the bathroom – though that didn’t mean he agreed with Tony when he said he was too tidy for his own good – choosing to throw it to the nearest chair and climb to bed immediately, not wanting to leave Tony alone for even a second. He sat down and leaned his back against the headboard, carefully lifting Tony and placing him on his lap, his left arm supporting his back.
A shame Steve couldn’t spot any of the books they used to keep in Tony’s room close at hand, Tony must have gotten rid of them, otherwise he would have taken one. No matter how Tony denied it, Steve could always see the flash of enthusiasm that crossed Tony’s eyes at any time someone offered to read to him before bed. But when he felt how tense Tony’s body was, even if he had somehow melted into his embrace, Steve knew he would have to make a story up himself. Steve couldn’t really explain why, but his voice could always help to relax Tony to the point of sending him right to a peaceful sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was just him, or the same effect was caused by anyone else. Right now, that didn’t matter.
Using his left hand to caress Tony’s belly, Steve started to narrate the story of a boy who was raised by the moon. Slowly, he could feel how Tony lost the tension, until he went completely limp. Without stopping talking, Steve looked down and he was pretty sure a goofy smile appeared on his face. Tony was fast asleep, a hand clutching Steve’s t-shirt as if he was afraid he might leave if he let go, a thumb tucked in his mouth. Not being able to resist, Steve bent a little and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead, his smile getting broader when Tony stirred contentedly under the touch.