Tony didn't really like video games all that much. Sure, they were fun for a little while, but once he'd sussed out a game's mechanics - even if he couldn't quite master the twitch - he usually found his attention wandering.
And yet, Stark Tower had rapidly become home to one of the largest video game collections in North America. Everyone assumed it was because of Tony, he liked computers and math, and "that kind of thing" - obviously he would be heavily into gaming. But it wasn't Tony that was the driving force behind them. There was, in fact, one 6-foot tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed reason for the towering stacks of discs and cartridges.
Steve loved games.
He had taken to gaming with great enthusiasm from the first time Tony sat him down and showed him Halo, only a few days after the Battle for New York. Now, almost a year later, he devoured them at such a rate, Tony had JARVIS monitoring his preferences and ordering things as they came out. Steve spent a little bit of his time on solo gaming, but by far his favourite activity was blowing up a teammate, usually Tony, with a distressing amount of delight for a national icon.
The serum hadn't really improved Steve's gaming-related abilities too much. Sure his reflexes were sharper than your average bear, but Tony had grown up through the birth of the industry, had developed games himself - a console even - and had clocked enough hours behind a controller that he could hold his own against the super-soldier. And so it was Tony that Steve came to most frequently, with a challenging glint in his eye, waving a disc, to ask, "wanna play?"
And Tony always said yes.
He was usually pretty good at saying no to people - he said no to Clint sixty or seventy times a day, usually to questions starting with, "can I -" but he couldn't seem to say no to Steve for anything.
He looked down at his phone, an unanswered text from Steve still lighting up the screen, "Best 5/7?" with a picture of the Mario Kart disk attached. He set down his drill.
"Hey, Jarvis, how often do I say no to Steve?"
"To requests for video game sessions, Sir, or in any regard?"
"Anything."
"13.6% of the time, when Captain Rogers asks you to do something, or for something, you respond in the negative. I excluded cases where he was asking for your opinion on something - for instance, whether or not you like pears."
"I hate pears."
"Exactly, Sir."
Tony pondered that. Over 80% of the time he said yes to Steve. He looked at his phone again. Then typed out a response.
Sure, I'll be up in five mins.
He was up in three.
XXX
There were several things Tony enjoyed about playing games with Steve and at the top of the list was that as soon as he picked up a controller their fearless leader turned into a foul-mouthed, eighteen-year-old Brooklynite with a wicked temper.
"For fucks sake, Tony, using a blue shell is cheap," he growled, digging an elbow into Tony's side, trying to knock his controller loose.
"Not as cheap as pushing me over, asshole!"
Steve shoved harder and Tony tipped over on the couch, furiously pressing buttons, but to no avail. Steve pulled into the lead and swung over the finish line with only a few feet to spare.
"That one doesn't count," Tony informed him.
"That's what you've said about the last three. I won the set, fair and square."
"How about, you won the set, not at all fair and in a sort of wobbly, rhombus shape?"
Steve just ignored him. "Add it to the list, JARVIS."
"Duly added, Captain."
"Add what to what list?" Tony sat up, eyeing Steve suspiciously. "Are you keeping score? JARVIS, what list?"
"My apologies, Sir, but that file is on Steve's personal server and can only be accessed with his permission."
Steve grinned smugly at Tony.
"You guys keep ganging up on me. Fine." Tony tossed the controller aside. "You win. See ya round, Cap."
"Tony, wait!" Steve called out. Tony turned back, kind of hoping he was going to share the contents of that file, but instead, Steve held up another game case. "Best five out of seven?"
Steve's eyes were wide and hopeful, like a lost puppy, and despite having about eighty hours worth of work waiting in the workshop that needed to be done forty hours from now, Tony couldn't resist. "Yeah, whatever, load it up." He hopped over the back of the couch and settled in next to Steve, all too easily pushing away thoughts of design documents and projects-in-progress.
XXX
The inevitable side effect of spending the evening playing with Steve was spending the next seventy-two hours straight in his workshop, catching up, while Pepper and JARVIS fended off the hounding phone calls demanding finished products and reports.
Thankfully Steve was out doing Avengers promo stuff and he wasn't forced to turn down another gaming invite.
"Hey JARVIS? Is Steve doing that interview? The talk show thing?"
"Yes, Sir. In fact, the broadcast began approximately five minutes ago."
"Switch it on, would ya?" One of Tony's many screens flickered to life and Steve appeared, sitting casually on a large, cozy armchair opposite a desk with a grinning host seated behind it.
"He really said that?" the host asked, laughing.
"He did." Steve nodded, laughing too. "I'm still not entirely sure what he meant."
The host raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I think we all know what he meant!" The crowd roared and Steve smiled and ducked his head obligingly, waving away their cheers. Tony found himself smiling at his work, wondering what story Steve had told that set all that off.
"But really, tell us - what we want to know is, what is it like when you're not Avengering? What do you guys do, like do you just go to the grocery store, and pay taxes, and get McDonald's like the rest of us?"
Steve chuckled. "Actually we don't go to the grocery store much. Avengers Tower is impressively automated -" Tony grinned in indulgent self-satisfaction "- and most things get delivered. I do pay taxes, yes, and we do get fast food sometimes - though it's usually Burger King. That's Tony's favourite."
Tony felt his stomach give a little flop at hearing his name.
"Why does Tony get to pick?" the host asked.
"He's the loudest whiner," Steve quipped back easily, setting the crowd off again. When they'd calmed he went on, "But yeah, I have a lot of hobbies when I'm not being Captain America. I draw still, I did that long before the war. I play a lot of video games."
The host perked up at that. "Really? What kind of games?"
"Anything, really. I like racing games, and fighting games. JARVIS assures me that I beat Tony 68.9% of the time."
Goddamn it, he was keeping score. Asshole. Tony glared at the screen then mumbled, "Traitor," at JARVIS, who ignored him.
"So you usually play with Tony Stark?" the host pressed.
There was a too-long pause and Tony glanced up from his work, surprised by the loss of conversational rhythm. Steve was by far the best interviewee of them all and the awkward silence was uncharacteristic.
Steve had stiffened somewhat in his chair, a furious, pink blush working its way up the back of his neck. Someone who didn't know him as well as Tony might not notice, but the question had made him instantly uncomfortable - despite Steve bringing up the topic in the first place - and Tony had no idea why.
It didn't last long before Steve found his "PR smile" and his voice. "Yeah, mostly, but I like playing with anyone willing to take me on. I guess most of them are too scared." His raised a cocky eyebrow at the camera and the crowd squealed in delight, breaking into applause as someone signaled the break for commercial. JARVIS automatically muted the sound as a cat appeared on screen, describing why Happy Sand™ was his favourite litter brand.
Huh. That was really weird. Something had screeched Steve's brain to a halt about that question and Tony couldn't think why. Did he not want to appear to play favourites? He usually talked about everyone on the team in equal measure during interviews - maybe he felt bad that Tony had come up twice in rapid succession.
It was still weird though.
Tony turned back to his work. The interview went on after the commercials and eventually Tony tuned out the canned stories he'd heard so many times before. He left the sound on, though, and Steve's voice became a soothing background as he slogged through his dense backlog.
If Steve had thought anything about the interview was off, he didn't mention it to Tony. Once Tony had caught up on work, and Steve had finished his promo obligations they went back to their regularly scheduled, digital ass-kicking.
Steve continued to trash talk, dropping r's like a college freshman dropping 7 a.m. classes, and peppering in enough swear words to curdle milk.
Tony lost - a lot - but he also won sometimes, and it was enough to keep him from giving up completely. There were some games he was better at than others and Steve graciously let him pick those maybe a little more often than was really balanced.
Over the next two months, they alternated couch and controllers time, with bad guys and beatings time, as the Avengers.
Tony found himself enjoying the former more and more, sometimes even pausing the game, or taking a break between rounds to chat, or share a snack. He started getting more of a thrill out of making Steve laugh than winning a round, and Steve's attempts to dislodge his controller got more and more outrageous.
And then suddenly, without any warning at all (except for the fact that JARVIS warned him several times over the course of a month) it was Steve's birthday.
Steve's birthday made Tony nervous. He had known what he wanted to get him for quite some time, but the thought of handing it over, for some reason, made his stomach churn.
As a team, they had unofficially decided to make a bit of a big deal over birthdays. It was something most of them hadn't had as kids, and it gave them a reason to come together and bond. Sure, it was a bit childish, but it was fun and Tony was happy to fund epic amounts of booze and gifts if it had them all laughing and playing around for a few nights a year.
At some point, as part of their birthday celebrations, Clint had instituted the "Superhero Challenge" which was a series of regular party games and activities with some Avengers' twist to them, like ceiling Twister or sniper beer pong. The rules were very complex and it usually took the better part of a day to get through the whole birthday experience.
As the day went on, Tony found himself getting more and more worked up over giving Steve his present. He really didn't know why - it's not like it was particularly personal, and he knew Steve would like it.
But logic aside, every time he looked across the room and caught Steve's gaze his stomach would fill with tiny, vigorous butterflies. Tony attempted to drown the butterflies with copious amounts of whiskey, but it only seemed to get the little guys drunk and by the end of the night they were fluttering around haphazardly in Tony's gut, bouncing off his kidneys and ribs in their inebriated haze.
In the end, he was the first to say goodnight, citing old age and a much-abused liver. The team let him go with little hassle, though Clint did sling an arm around his shoulders, kiss him sloppily on the cheek and start singing "Don't Say Goodnight and Mean Goodbye" in what Tony was pretty sure was two keys at once.
Once he'd managed to wriggle out of the archer's grasp, he walked over to Steve's chair and, for some reason, gave in to the temptation to ruffle a hand through his hair. Steve tipped his chin up and gave Tony a warm smile.
"Night, Buddy. Don't let Clint do anything I wouldn't do. And happy birthday." Tony pulled his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. "Oh and I've got something for you, but I'll catch you later," he let out in a rush. There, now he couldn't pretend it had never arrived without disappointing Steve.
"Thanks. Goodnight, Tony." Steve looked like he was reaching out to touch him, but then someone grabbed his other hand and he turned away, levering out of his chair to join Natasha on the DDR pads. Tony slipped out of the room and up to bed.
It was two days more, before Tony couldn't handle the tension anymore and told JARVIS to ask Steve to come down and meet him in the workshop. Steve arrived almost immediately, stopping first to say hello to DUM-E, before sidling up on the other side of Tony's work bench. Tony buried his face in the delicate circuit board he was building and grunted out a greeting.
When Steve's expectant hovering became too much to bear, Tony sighed and shoved a large cardboard box along the workbench, towards him, his eyes flicking up from his work only briefly. "I didn't wrap it or anything. Here."
He caught Steve's smile out of the corner of his eye. His hands pretended to be busy with soldering the tiny components in place, but really he watched Steve tear off the tape and lift the flaps.
He pulled out two boxes and held them up with curious delight - a 3DS in blue, and another one in red.
"Wow, Tony, thank you. Why two, though?" Steve asked, eagerly digging through the twin sets of games that filled the rest of the container.
"So we can play together while I'm away. I have three long trips booked in the next two months." He finally looked up to find Steve staring at him in open adoration. "Don't wanna get rusty," he added, lamely. He shifted under Steve's brilliant grin. "C'mon, stop beaming , geez, it's not like I built them from scratch." Which is what he'd actually wanted to do, if he'd had the time.
"That's not the - you'll play with me, right?" Steve asked, holding them up.
Tony nodded. "Yeah, that's the whole idea."
"Okay, good." Steve set the blue 3DS down in front of Tony and beamed some more. "I want the Iron Man one."
"Yeah, whatever," Tony rolled his eyes, but smiled down at his tiny circuit board. "Okay go practice or something, I need to finish this and you're freaking me out."
Steve laughed. "Okay. Thanks again."
"Happy birthday," Tony muttered as Steve wafted out of the workshop, flipping through the box of games clutched in his arms.
There. Done. He had no idea why that had been so hard to do.
XXX
And that's how Tony found himself, ten days later, stretched out on the luxurious king-sized bed of a five-star, Hong Kong hotel room, with a Captain-America-blue DS in his hands.
He'd changed out of his suit and into ratty boxers and a dirty t-shirt that smelled like home. Law and Order SVU - the only show hotel TVs ever seemed to have playing - was muted on the massive flatscreen on the wall. His phone was on video chat, but lay on his chest, facing up to the ceiling so he could use both hands for the buttons and still flip him off every time Steve won. If he tipped it up he knew he'd see Steve slouched on the couch, headset on, with a bowl of cheetos next to his hip. He was such a cliche.
It was early afternoon for Steve, and far too late at night for Tony, but he ignored the clock and chose to play round after round of Super Smash Brothers instead.
Round after round that Steve kept winning.
After his fifth straight ass-kicking, Tony set down his DS harder than intended and snatched up his phone, giving Steve a stern look. "I would like to say - for the record - that Captain America is a filthy cheater who will go to any lengths necessary just to say he won, even when he didn't, and clearly has been spending some time on the not-so-nice parts of the internet where they teach you to do very shady things, like hack into a perfectly normal looking 3DS and give it - "
Steve cut him off suddenly, narrowing his eyes at the screen. "Is that my shirt?"
"I dunno." Tony looked down at his chest. It was definitely Steve's. "No, it's definitely mine."
Steve raised an eyebrow, "Well, I guess it is now."
"Shut up, laundry is confusing. And you're changing the subject - don't think I didn't notice."
Steve laughed and rolled his eyes. "I don't cheat, Tony, you just suck."
Tony clutched his chest, grabbing a mock-offended handful of what was absolutely Steve's shirt. "Blasphemy."
"Are you suggesting you're a god? That's a little egotistical, even for you."
"You keep hurting me, Rogers, over and over, like a giant boot smashing down on a poor, defenseless ant below, without a thought for its very delicate, little, ant feelings."
Steve peered suspiciously through the camera for a moment. "Tony, what time is it there?"
Tony waved a hand. "Oh, I don't know, like 4 a.m., or something. I'm jetlagged, it doesn't matter, it's all a blur anyway."
Steve blanched. "Oh geez, you need to go to sleep. I'm sorry for keeping you up, I should have checked before I called you."
"It's okay, seriously. If I needed to sleep I would have said so. I'd rather play," Tony admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them, making him feel suddenly self-conscious.
But Steve grinned. "Me too."
"There are so many things I'd rather do than sleep," Tony went on, drowsily. "Build a new AI, learn to read Mandarin, figure out where that little blip I sometimes hear in my workshop is coming from…"
Steve laughed. "Can't help noticing most of those are solo activities."
"Oh, well there are some tandem activities I like to do instead of sleep as well." Tony shot Steve a wink and got another laugh.
"What like team sports?" Steve joked.
"Ugh, no. At least sometimes I can win at Smash. That whole 'Team Bonding Avengers Volleyball Team' idea of Clint's was a nightmare. I still have bruises."
"That's why I like video games so much," Steve spoke up. "I would kick your ass on a basketball court, or in a boxing ring - no contest; it'd be boring. So it's either Halo or chess. And Halo has lasers."
"You like video games because they're an even playing field between us?" That was a surprise. Tony always assumed Steve just loved the cathartic rush of blowing things up and Tony happened to be the easiest target.
Steve shrugged. "Well, yeah. It's kinda hard finding something we can do together."
Tony blinked at his phone. "That's your reason for playing? To spend time with me?"
"Well, when you put it like that…" Steve blushed and shifted in his seat. "I mean it's not that I don't enjoy them," Steve stuttered on. "But I don't really think I'd play much at all if, um, if you didn't want to play with me."
"Oh."
Steve soldiered on. "I mean, I like it - spending time with you, that is. I - I like you, so spending time with you, no matter what we're doing...is...good." Steve swallowed and even through the tiny phone screen, Tony could see a wicked blush blooming across his cheeks.
Tony panicked.
"Oh. Ok. Cool. Well, you're right, I'd better go to sleep. Goodnight." He whacked his hand wildly against the screen until Steve disappeared.
Tony kept panicking.
He tapped his phone nervously against the bed. "JARVIS? Did I just hang up on Steve?"
JARVIS' voice sounded weird and tinny coming out of Tony's phone. "Yes, Sir."
"Okay. Okay. Does he - ? Did he, um...say? Is there - ? JARVIS?"
"I'm sorry, Sir, despite having the most advanced semantic parsing modules in the entire world, I was unable to process that inquiry."
"And with the sass, JARVIS, seriously." Tony paused, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Did Steve say he liked me? Like, more than a friend?"
"Not explicitly, no, though I do believe it was implied."
"Oh." Tony sat in silence for a while. "Do I like him back?"
"That is not a question I can easily answer, Sir." Tony frowned down at his hands, clasped in his lap. "Though, perhaps I can offer some relevant information?"
Tony wasn't sure what he meant by that, but information was always good. "Okay…"
"You are 67.8 percent more likely to choose to sit next to Captain Rogers during a group gathering, over all your other teammates. You offer Captain Rogers some of your food 4 times more frequently than the others, laugh at something he says 7 times more often, and say his name 3 times more often in group settings."
Tony started to feel calmer. Statistics were good, he liked numbers. They were solid, logical. "Okay, so I clearly like him best of the Avengers, but that doesn't mean - "
"If Captain Rogers enters a room there's a 72.3 percent chance that your heart rate will increase by at least 8 beats per minute. You are 14 times more likely to touch Captain Rogers than any other teammate, 11 times more likely to smile at him when he is not looking, and you mention him to me, when alone, 32 times more often than anyone else you know."
Oh. Well. Okay.
That was pretty conclusive, right?
So he liked Steve. And Steve liked him. And they liked each other.
That seemed to be as far as his jetlag-addled brain could get. The time of night, the day he'd had, and the pressure of the four meetings and one transcontinental flight Tony was facing tomorrow, all suddenly became too much. Tony set his phone aside, turned off the light, turned off his brain, and went to sleep.
XXX
He, rather expertly, managed to not think about Steve for the next 34 hours. He made it through meetings, got on a plane and survived the entire flight from Hong Kong to New York without panicking again. Happy picked him up at the airport and drove him back to the Tower.
He survived 34 hours then took one look at Steve and panicked all over again.
The whole gang was gathered in the kitchen, cooking and talking, when Tony sauntered in. Somehow, after being on the plane for a year and a half it was still the middle of the day, or maybe the middle of the next day, or the day before? Tony wasn't sure.
Either way, while he had hoped for nothing more than a faceful of pillows, all he got was a faceful of Bruce's pancakes, and an eyeful of a nervous Steve hovering by his elbow.
It was clear that while they both knew they needed to talk, neither wanted to say anything in front of the group. No matter whether this all turned out to be A) a huge misunderstanding, B) the worst idea in the history of ideas, or C) the horrifically unlikely start of something that might be...good, it was no one's business but their own - at least until they figured out which of those it was going to be.
They both vibrated in tense silence while the team enjoyed their meal. Tony answered a few questions about his trip in terse monotones until the others clearly decided not to bother asking any more. Tony was about five seconds from flipping the table, screaming, and then falling asleep on the couch out of sheer tension, when Steve suddenly stood, startling everyone.
"I'm going to play some Street Fighter. Tony, you want to come?" He gave Tony a look that was so obviously asking something else, that even the usually clueless Bruce raised an eyebrow.
Tony looked back at Steve in silent desperation, but Steve didn't give an inch. "Okay," he finally gave in. "Anything to keep me awake until a reasonable bedtime."
They fled the room before anyone could comment on their odd behaviour, making a beeline for the largest common room, where most of their games were stored. Tony sat down automatically on his side of the couch, Steve sank down hesitantly next to him.
"So, do you - ?" Steve started.
"Street Fighter sounds good," Tony said hurriedly, avoiding Steve's gaze.
Steve nodded then reached over to turn the game on, handing Tony a controller.
Tony selected a character then slid his eyes over, watching Steve do the same. That beautiful blush had worked its way up Steve's neck again and Tony thought back to the interview where Steve had talked about their gaming together. And when had he started thinking that blush was beautiful?
"Fight!" the announcer yelled.
Tony flicked his eyes back to the screen as the match started, but he wasn't able to focus on his character for long before they worked their way back to Steve. His tongue poked out between his lips as he concentrated on the battle. His eyes were wide and focused. He leaned forward a bit, elbows rested on his knees. Tony followed the lines of his impressive forearms down over the long, flexible fingers that gripped the controller.
It was right around when Tony was wondering what those fingers would feel like tangled in his hair that Steve noticed he was pushing buttons at random instead of fighting back. He turned sharply and Tony didn't have time to look away before their eyes met.
"Tony?"
"I. Um. Ok," Tony said, his eyes making it back down to around Steve's chest, but not seeming to manage the distance all the way to the TV screen.
The game timer ticked on, both characters rocking back and forth, facing each other, but not moving. Steve very carefully set down his controller and shifted a bit so he was facing Tony.
"Are you okay?" he asked, shuffling nervously. "Cause I'm really worried I said something wrong and made you feel uncomfortable, but I kind of thought you might - I mean, I just - oh fuck it."
Tony started at Steve's harsh words and opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't because all of sudden Steve was attached to it.
The kiss was brief, but intense, like Steve wanted to make sure there was no doubt about what he wanted without pushing Tony too far. He pressed forward, leaning his solid weight against Tony's chest. Their mouths slotted together just right, Steve guiding Tony's head into the perfect angle. He felt a cautious tongue flick against his top lip and then it was over. Steve pulled away and shifted back into his own space, his face twisted with anxious apprehension.
Tony stared back in utter shock. His tongue darted out of its own accord to slide along his lip - he tasted like Steve. Steve had kissed him. Steve liked him. He liked Steve. And Steve had kissed him. Well, "fuck it" was right - it was all pretty simple after all, wasn't it?
He didn't need JARVIS to tell him his heart was pounding and his stomach was trying to claw out of his throat. He didn't need statistics to know how desperately he wanted to feel Steve's name on his lips, or his hands on his skin. And whatever had been scary and foreign and unfathomable about this budding thing between them didn't seem to matter anymore - not now that he knew what Steve tasted like.
Tony smiled, then reached out to slide his hand along Steve's jaw and around the back of his neck. His grin widened when he saw relief spread across Steve's face. He shifted forward, tucking up until he was practically in Steve's lap, humming happily when long arms wrapped around his waist and drew him in for another kiss.
The announcer's booming voice broke through the background music of the game, making Tony jump. "TIME OVER. PLAYER 1 WINS."
Steve grinned against Tony's mouth.
"You cheated," Tony informed him, sliding their noses together.
Steve chuckled and pulled Tony's hips closer to his own. "I still won."
He hooked his arms around Steve's neck, holding back a moan at the sweet sigh of anticipation that slipped from between Steve's lips. Tony leaned forward to kiss him again, then paused.
"Hey Steve?" he whispered.
"Hmm?" Steve replied, eager eyes fixed on Tony's mouth.
"Best five out of seven?"