A/N: My new OTP. My new universe. My new passion.
Breaking out of my comfort zone here with several things
1. New writing style (Sort of).
2. New pairing.
3. New fandom.
I wanna take a pause and thank my beta, TheCagey, who has done a fricking amazing job, even though I'm pushing out chapters faster than she can beta them (true story).
I love you endlessly, and this story was always intended to be dedicated to you.
You inspire me every day.
Enjoy.
Overall Story Warnings: Yaoi in future chaps, angst, coarse language, violence, adult themes.
Nightfall was meant to have been a time of peace, of rest, of rejuvenation and recovery. The blanket of darkness that enveloped the city and surrounded its citizens was a sign that the day's struggles had finally passed, and that it was time to prepare for the next. Instead, blue eyes had snapped open, focused intently on the stretch of darkness that the ceiling above them held. A well defined chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat sliding down smooth skin and causing stray blonde locks to plaster to a pale forehead. It takes several moments before the realization sets in that the war is over. There was no carnage surrounding him, no immediate threat to his life, no bodies falling, no screams, no pain.
Steve Rogers swung his legs out of bed and rested his head in his hands for a few moments, letting a long breath escape from his lips. He hadn't realised he'd been holding it in.
The mug warmed his fingers, as he stared into the dark liquid placed before him and allowed himself to absorb the scent through every pore. He was yet to take a sip.
"Something on your mind?" a voice rouses him from his musings. Steve looks up from the mug held in his fingertips to meet those of his housemate. Bruce had that usual calm air around him, a smile upon his lips, but concern creased his brows. Steve forced a smile in return and nodded, stretching so that his back gave a small pop. Some things still felt so mundanely normal, and cracking his back was one of those tiny reminders that he was still a human being.
"It's always been a little hard adjusting to a new bed, I guess," Steve lied, running a hand through his hair. He'd never had a problem sleeping on a bed in his life. He'd slept on a lumpy mattress as a child, an even lumpier one as a teen, and spent most of his time sleeping on the floor or a crude bunk during-
He swallowed thickly, and forced the thought away.
Regardless of where he had slept, where he was sleeping now had never been hard on him in the slightest. In fact, he couldn't recall falling asleep quicker and more comfortably anywhere before in his entire life. But it wasn't the falling asleep that was the problem. It was staying that way.
"I know the feeling," Bruce murmured, raising his own mug to his lips and returning his attention to the newspaper before him, "This is a little more luxurious than what I'm used to."
Steve realised there was probably more behind that than Bruce was letting on, but he didn't press it. He was far from a nosey individual, and whilst his camaraderie with Bruce as a fellow Avenger was only one part of it all, everybody had their secrets, and Steve would rather quash his curiosity than risk the dynamic of the team by wanting to know more.
It had been three months since the battle that had brought them all together, and ultimately pushed them all apart. There was an unspoken agreement between the entire team once it was over; each team member was almost painfully private, and each had their own inner peace that they sought. The battle against Loki had brought out both the best and the worst in each of the Avengers, and there was going to be no turning back from that. So, they all pushed forward as best as they could, lone souls seeking their own paths. Natasha and Clint had returned to SHIELD, commencing their daily lives the only way they knew how. The last anyone had seen of Thor was when he had taken Loki back to Asgard with him, but Steve often gave a small smile each time a storm rolled in. Thor was never all that far away. Bruce had disappeared to an unknown location in South Africa, but Steve had known he would be back. As much of a solitary figure the scientist made himself out to be, a part of Bruce had come to life when in the company of others, and Steve had wondered if it were for the same reason he enjoyed popping his had travelled, for as far and as long as he could.
The months had stretched by, as he'd endeavoured to visit the graves of those he had lost along the way and explore the country he'd always wanted to experience when not in the clutches of war. Some days he found it hard to breathe, the differences between now and then were so overwhelming. As privately agreed to by each member of the team, Steve had accepted a telecommunications device, for use when the Avengers would be needed once again. When they were, which they all somehow knew would be a 'when' as opposed to an 'if', Steve would be ready. Nick Fury had been more than firm when insisting that team members keep the devices on them at all times. Steve did so with no hesitation, not expecting the call to come any time soon. So, when his phone had rung two weeks prior, he feared the worst. What he got, however, was Tony Stark.
Steve wouldn't have been able to avoid Stark, no matter how hard he tried. Unlike the rest of the team, Tony had stayed exactly where and how he was, calmly taking the flak for the aftermath that followed the Loki incident. He'd continued to excel in his field, and his image was plastered across most of the magazine stands that Steve had come across. He'd shaken his head as he'd sat at a diner for breakfast in Wisconsin, reading over an article in the Times about the Avengers, complete with a brief interview with Iron Man himself.
"When asked about the Avengers and if he were aware of his teammate's whereabouts, Mister Stark remained uncharacteristically silent, before assuring that if the need ever arose, he 'wouldn't need to know', as he had 'every confidence that the guys would do their civil duty'. At this, Mister Stark reclined even further, 'And as we all know, at least one of the team can't get enough of that particular vitamin'."
Steve had known that it was himself that Tony had blatantly taken a stab at, but he brushed it off as quickly as he had learned to with every other insult or tease that Tony had thrown his way. The man wasn't happy unless he was making someone bristle, and Steve took both pride and pleasure in denying him that satisfaction.
It was two days after the publication that the call had come, with Tony chattering down the line about Stark Tower now being "Avenger capable", whatever that meant, and hey, Steve should head on back and hang with everyone for a while.
"Everyone?" Steve had asked, and he could almost hear Tony shrug down the line.
"Me, Bruce, and Birdboy occasionally lifts his head out from under his wing, so to speak. Wouldn't think you would need much more encouragement after the mention of 'me' though."
"Natasha?" Steve prompted, ignoring yet another egotistical remark from the billionaire.
"At SHIELD more often than not, but that shouldn't deter you too much. There are some fantastic things photoshop lovers have done on the internet, so even if it isn't the real deal, you can still entertain the thought of our beloved in frilly little-"
Steve cleared his throat abruptly, "Is there a point to this phone call?"
"There's a room all set up and ready to go, Cap."
"How much of this was Fury's idea?"
"I'm outright insulted. You make it sound like Fury is somehow pushing me into this. I want nothing more than to sacrifice my personal space for the good of the team."
Steve said nothing, holding the phone to his ear and merely waiting. He didn't need to wait long.
"He might have suggested it. Most of it."
There was another pause.
"There may have been a little arm twisting."
Steve shook his head, running a hand through his hair and resisting the urge to sigh.
"I'm not saying he's an intimidating man, but yeez..."
Steve felt a small smirk lick at his lips, and the very next day, he was a resident of Stark Tower.
"That's one thing I'll never understand," An all too familiar voice pulled Steve from his early morning musings, "People leaving something as precious as a cup of Joe to go cold."
Steve looked up from his coffee once more as Tony sat down across from him at the dining table and shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as he filled his own mug. He looked almost tragic; hair sticking out at all sorts of odd angles and despite the sun barely peeking through the heavily tinted windows, a designer pair of shades was perched on his nose. Steve swilled down a mouthful of his coffee and forced back a grimace as he realised Tony was right about the temperature. Steve pushed it towards the billionaire absent-mindedly, as Tony allowed his mouth to drop open dramatically. Steve should have been used to the theatrics by now, but it still grinds on his nerves a little. Most things about Tony do.
"A simple 'no' would suffice, Tony."
"I don't do simple, Cap," Tony shrugs, downing the last dregs of his coffee that he'd been gulping under Steve's glare. Tony stood then, clapping Bruce on the shoulder affectionately, before heading back to his lab. Once Tony had left, Steve allowed himself a brief moment to bristle, his fists clenching and unclenching of their own accord. Bruce never looks up from his paper, but a small smile lifts at the corner of his lips.
For the majority of the time, the team keeps to themselves. Tony hadn't been exaggerating when he had stated that Natasha was at SHIELD more often than not. Steve had yet to see her since he'd moved in, although Bruce had reassured him that she'd been in on several occasions, albeit very briefly, and usually in the very late evening or early morning. It led Steve to wonder if Bruce slept at all. Clint spent a majority of his time out at the target ranges, working on moves that he'd already perfected. Steve could understand that kind of dedication. He had been much the same back when he was in the army. Even after everything that had transpired, he'd found his guilt and his near crippling emotional aches were nullified somewhat by spending time in the gym. This led Steve to wonder if Hawkeye was in fact suffering a little more from his encounter with Loki than his stoic demeanour let on. As the archer spent more and more time at the Stark residence, Steve grew concerned. He asked Bruce (who was fast becoming the tower's gossip hound) what the deal was, but although the scientist never missed a detail, he merely shrugged over his notepad, and refused to meet Steve's gaze. Steve supposed it served him right for prying.
As for Tony, he was still the Avenger's playboy figure, the same as he always had been. If he wasn't in his lab, he was at a function, mingling with the beautiful people of the world, or in his bedroom, doing much the same. It unsettled Steve, for the sake of security, if nothing else. He'd confronted Tony about it, feeling it was somewhat his responsibility, and the billionaire had lowered his shades just enough to make direct eye contact. Steve hated when he did that.
"A matter of security? You probably owe Jarvis an apology for worrying about that, or you'll hurt his feelings," Tony faked a concerned frown and raised his shades once more, as Steve took a deep breath in to calm himself. It was near impossible, however, when that breath sucked in the almost overwhelming smell of perfume that coated Stark's skin and clothes. Tony must have seen Steve's nose wrinkle, as he wafted the air around him and breathed in deeply as well. Even Tony wrinkled his nose slightly, before letting out a sneeze.
"Phew! Do you know what that smell is, Cap?" Tony asked, but before Steve could answer, Tony was doing so already. "Angel. Got a mild allergy to it, but God it's a treat."
With that, Tony had given a polite wave and ducked back into his lab before Steve could say any more on the matter, his head still dizzy with the lingering perfume of Tony's latest conquest. He was loathe to admit it, but Tony was right. In a lighter air, it was a treat.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch. He hadn't even felt himself dozing off. But the History Channel had a special on seventies culture, a decade that Steve hadn't been able to say no to when it came to learning all he had missed. One moment he'd been absorbed by disco and horrible fashion sense, and the next, he'd woken up with a scream trapped in his throat, memories tarnishing whatever sleep his body had planned. He sat bolt upright, his chest heaving, as he swung his legs over the side of the couch and rubbed at his temples, his breath coming out shakily. It took several moments before he saw him. Or more accurately, sensed his presence. Tony Stark placed a hand on the Captain's shoulder and waited for the blonde to meet the billionaire's gaze. Steve felt humiliated, but Tony didn't say a word. He merely handed the Captain a glass of water, squeezed Steve's shoulder as he usually did with Bruce, and took his leave.
Steve shifted uncomfortably, his eyes staring into the darkness that Tony had just disappeared into. How long had Tony been there? Steve's chest constricted as he remembered being told he spoke in his sleep as well. How much, if anything, had Tony heard?
Perhaps the most unsettling thing, Steve thought, was that for one of the first times since he'd met Tony, the man had held his gaze square on, and he hadn't said a word.
Steve reads over hundreds and hundreds of articles he'd somehow missed on his journeys, looking for any kind of Avenger related news that had occurred during his absence. He was looking for something in particular, he just wasn't quite sure of what that something was just yet. He only knew that it was the something they needed in order to have their names reflected positively. Thankfully, nothing major had happened since Loki's descent, but Steve feared that should the Avengers be called to arms, the public may still have a mixed and potentially negative opinion towards their actions. He didn't want that. So, he scoured until his eyes began to ache from the strain of his lamp's soft glow. Most of the articles he found, however, were in direct relation to Tony. Choosing to stay in the public limelight had left Tony exposed like a raw nerve, having his personal life and scenarios overshadow any of the others' supposed wrongdoings. The Captain read through article after article on the growth of Stark Industries, of Tony and Pepper's very civilised, albeit tragic split, and throughout it all, despite the photographs showing just a little strain behind Tony's eyes, Stark always provided interviews. He discussed his personal life and brushed away his pain with offhanded remarks and wit, and Steve wondered if this was in anyway intentional on Tony's behalf. He had once denounced Tony, claiming he was no hero, but his actions on that day with the nuke had thrown whatever perspective Steve had had at the time completely out the window. Well, most. He still believed that Tony was an ass, but from that day on, he'd thought more about why Tony might have become the ass he was. Steve had been fond of Tony's father, and whilst their manic qualities and other features were strikingly similar, it was painfully obvious that Tony was striving to outrun his father's shadow. Steve knew the type. At least, he thought he knew.
It took Steve back to his recruitment days, and his mind hazed a little. He'd have always picked Tony to have been the smooth talking jock that, when it came down to it, didn't have much gusto to get anything done. But when Tony took a hold of the missile that day and signed a one way ticket, Steve saw Tony Stark as a man full of insecurities, but full of belief that he knew what he was doing was the right thing to do. That he had to be selfless for those he loved. Steve looked at Tony and saw a scrawny kid throwing himself atop a dummy grenade and just accepting that that was how it had to be. Steve looked at Tony and saw himself.
The Captain's brow creased as he frowned, his lips pulling into a tight line. He placed the article in his fingertips back on the table top. He owed someone an apology.
"Mister Stark?"
"What is it?"
"Captain Rogers has been waiting for you to acknowledge his presence, sir."
Steve stood awkwardly in the doorway whilst Tony and Jarvis engaged in their casual banter. Tony's back was to him, as he leant over a magnifying glass and what looked to be some kind of computer chip, soldering at one thing or another.
"Afternoon, Cap," Tony called up, not bothering to even face the Captain or look up from his work, as he continued soldering.
"It's two in the morning, sir."
Jarvis seemed to have finally pulled a reaction that time, as Tony straightened himself up, slid his goggles off of his eyes and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Two in the morning?"
"Yes sir."
"Huh."
Tony absentmindedly held his goggles out to the side, as he turned to face Steve. Steve bit back a small smile as Dummy took the goggles a little too enthusiastically from Tony's grip, and one of the bands snapped. Tony closed his eyes tightly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dummy was making apologetic sounds, or at least as apologetic as he could sound for a robot, and Tony let out a sigh.
"Thin ice. Perpetually thin ice," He said, eyeing off the robot even as it slunk off, reminding Steve of a kicked puppy. Tony removed his gloves and made a half hearted attempt to flatten his oily and sweat slicked hair. He seemed to give up and headed for a sink at the side of the lab. "What brings you to my humble abode in the wee hours of the morning then, pops?"
Steve bit back the retort hovering on his tongue, and reminded himself of why he was here.
"An apology."
Tony faltered in his steps to the sink, absentmindedly not looking up from the towel he was using to wipe at his hands.
"What have I done now?" Tony asked, his momentary surprise quickly replaced with his usual air of self confidence. "I'm not going to apologise for being such a fantastic host, if that's it. You know, I just can't. It goes against my moral code. Nobody likes a liar, Rogers."
"Back on the helicarrier," Steve began, and he hesitated briefly, as he saw Tony visibly tense, "Some things were said that-"
"You're right. Tensions were pretty high. Loki's mind voodoo really didn't help matters," Tony shrugged, drying his hands off and tossing the now filthy towel onto Dummy's outstretched arm, "At least, Loki's voodoo is my excuse for being an ass. I kind of wish he was around a little more. It was nice to have someone to pin the blame onto. But if it helps you sleep at night, with all sincerity, you're entitled to a 'my bad'. So, my bad."
Steve shook his head, blinking back the mild confusion that Tony always gave him whenever he rambled.
"What?" Steve began, but shook his head before Tony could reply. "No, wait. I'm trying to apologise to you. I'm... sorry. I had no right to have judged you so quickly. You're every bit of a hero as the rest of us, if not more."
Tony's expression was one that Steve had yet to see on him, almost as if the billionaire playboy was... guilty? It was only there for a few moments, before the casual charm that Tony usually threw off resurfaced. Yet another unsettling moment with Tony within the space of 48 hours.
"You kill me," Tony suddenly laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze, "I'm going to hit the hay. You should do the same. Never know when some lunatic might appear from another world, or whenever some lowly kitten might get stuck in a tree, or whatever it is you do in your spare time donning the stars and stripes."
As Tony steered Steve to the exit by his shoulder, the Captain near dumbfounded, Steve realised that even if he continued to speak or tried to explain himself, the conversation was over. And as it was in most cases, Tony had been the one to have the last word.
Bruce actually stopped looking at his research paper, lowered his glasses and leant over his desk, as Steve shifted awkwardly under the scientist's gaze.
"You... what?"
"I attempted to apologise. He didn't seem to really expect it, nor did he accept it."
Bruce had that same tiny smile licking at his lips, almost exasperated, as he shook his head at Steve slightly.
"What exactly transpired?" Bruce asked, and Steve nodded, recounting everything in detail, right down to Tony clapping him on the shoulder and steering him out. Bruce let out a soft sigh, his smile growing slightly.
"And what, from that, made you believe that he hadn't accepted your apology?"
"He didn't say anything, so I assumed..." Steve said, suddenly embarrassed, fighting back a light blush from his cheeks under Bruce's scrutiny.
"Stark might talk more than anyone appreciates him doing so, but he doesn't often say much," Bruce offered a small shrug, "He may seem easy to read, but he's a little more complicated than most people think."
"He comes across as quite blunt in interviews," Steve defended, but Bruce let out a small "hmph" of laughter. There was a brief silence then, before Steve took that as his queue to leave. As he turned, however, Bruce spoke quietly.
"What made you decide to apologise?"
Steve faltered before he turned, his mind stalling with the completely reasonable question presented to him.
"I was wrong. I've always believed it was the right thing to do, to admit when you were wrong."
Bruce nodded, pushing his glasses back up his nose, and turning back to his research paper. "You're more alike than I think either of you would care to admit," Bruce smiled, his gaze not shifting from his paper, even as he turned the page and scrawled a note beside a formula of some sorts. Steve went to argue against this, but he couldn't deny the truth behind Bruce's words. Instead, he turned and left the lab, letting the door close with a hiss behind him, and no idea where to go from there.
Time passed with little happening. Tony still spent most of his time in the lab, Clint spent most of his time on the shooting range or hidden away in his bedroom, Bruce spent most of his time knowing what everyone else was doing with their time, and Natasha spent most of her time at SHIELD. It had been two months since Steve had moved in with the others before he saw Natasha for the first time. He'd woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, and headed to the nearest kitchen, passing the main lounge on the way there. Clint was up late, as was the norm, watching some kind of horror movie, eyes transfixed to the screen. Natasha was fast asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. She looked more at ease than Steve had ever recalled seeing before, but even in sleep, she looked exhausted. She had dark circles beneath her eyes, her hair was a little unkempt, and her skin was slightly paler than he could recall. She didn't look well. Steve quietly stepped into the lounge, and Clint looked towards him, offering a brief nod of his head to recognise his presence. He picked up one of the blankets on the end of the sofa, and placed it over Natasha, as she shifted just slightly, Clint tucking it in behind her back and mouthing a genuine 'thank you' in Steve's direction. Steve offered a small smile, and Clint's lips flicked up by the tiniest of margins, before he returned to his movie.
Steve poured himself a glass of water before heading back to his room. He paused as he reached the door, however, and realized that his mind was still well beyond active. There would be no chance of sleep any time in Steve's near future. He let out a defeated sigh, and instead, walked to the gym with his glass of water in hand. If worse came to worst, he could exhaust himself into sleeping. He stretched again, his back popping, and he felt that rush of endorphins flood over him briefly. Why that felt so good, he'd never know, but he rolled his neck and shoulders until they too, did the same. He didn't want to overstretch, less he put a little too much strain on himself during his workout, but he pumped his legs a little before pushing open the gym door, only to find that it was already occupied.
Tony was punching away at a bag, his Bluetooth headset placed firmly against his head, and his brows furrowed. Tony couldn't tell whether the furrowed brows were from concentration, or in response to the seemingly heated conversation he was engaged in. Not wanting to pry, Steve kept to himself and hung up his own punching bag, as Tony continued his exercise. Without meaning to eavesdrop, Steve quickly pieced together that the person on the other end of the line was Pepper, and his curiosity piqued just a little more. Tony and Pepper had remained friends through their breakup, both wanting nothing but the best for Stark industries. After all, the two had been professionally involved and then close friends well before anything else, and there was nobody else who knew Tony like Pepper Potts did. If anybody could have stuck by Tony through good, bad, and ugly times, it was Pepper. Steve was a little concerned, however, that the two seemed to be having an argument on the phone at this time of night.
"I'm just saying that I did what I could. I'm not sure how many people would expect more than that," Tony argued, "There's a certain persona that goes with the outfit, you know?"
There was a brief pause, and Steve awkwardly began strapping his hands, not being able to resist listening in.
"I'm well aware of what you do for the company, Pep. I'd not have boosted you up to the position you're in if I wasn't at least seventy percent sure you wouldn't goof."
Steve recognised this as one of Tony's attempt at lightening the situation, but Pepper didn't seem to want a bar, as Tony let out a defeated sigh not that long after. It was then that Tony looked over in Steve's direction, and the pair briefly made eye contact. Steve blushed, aware that he'd been caught eavesdropping, as Tony frowned slightly and lowered his voice when he spoke further. Steve decided to focus on the task at hand, and began a slow and steady pace, not wanting to over exert himself too early on.
Once he got started, it was hard to stop, his mind blocking out everyone and everything aside from the steady pounding of his hands against the bag. Tony had done God knows what to reinforce the bags, one of the things Steve assumed Tony had meant when he said he'd made the tower 'Avenger capable', so Steve no longer had the concern of the bags breaking apart now that his strength was almost too much for even Steve to handle. He could still recall, painfully clearly, how he'd been before the serum. How when he'd gone to the gym, he was jeered at by the other local boys. How each time he'd hit the bag, a little bit of pain would shoot through his underdeveloped arms. Yet, he'd still keep punching, occasionally with Bucky cheering him on from the sidelines and sending death glares towards anyone who would do otherwise. Bucky.
Steve felt his breath catch in his throat, and he paused briefly, feeling as if everything would collapse around him, but all he had to do was breathe. Just breathe. Steve forced it upon himself, inhale, exhale, and he kept punching until the world stopped spinning. But his heart still ached, and his eyes still burned with the threat of tears he knew would never come. He'd wanted to, many times, give into the weakness of his own tears, but he couldn't any more. Whether it was the serum or the amount of time he'd spent in the ice, or God only knew, no tears would ever fall. So he channelled it all, through his arms that no longer shuddered from the blows, into his fists, that no longer ached at each punch. He could feel the sweat building, sliding down his face and into his eyes, a harsh sting of salt, and still he kept punching. Yet, Bucky was still there, a hand extended as he hung off that railing, his eyes wide as his grip failed and Steve choked the thought away, fists falling harder and harder. Instead of Bucky, now, Peggy. Beautiful Peggy, curly hair falling against her shoulders, sly smirk along her lips as those eyes stared at him. Soft lips, as they pressed against Steve's, a plea within them on their own right. A promise of a date he'd never fulfilled. Everything burned, and Steve couldn't stop it. His mind was racing as fast as his heart was, and in the back of his mind, he still had to continue to remind himself to breathe. He punched again, and this time, there was more force behind it than he ever thought he'd applied to anything in his life. The bag tore, spilling its contents onto the floor, as Steve stood, panting as the sweat poured off of him, images still burned into his brain. His lungs burned, his eyes burned, his throat burned.
He flinched noticeably, as a hand touched his shoulder. His chest heaved as he choked for air, turning his gaze to meet Tony's. The billionaire's eyes were fixed on his own, concern printed across his entire face.
"Cap?" He prompted quietly, and Steve swallowed thickly, his lungs gradually filling with enough air as he stood and felt a tremor rip through him. Tony squeezed his shoulder, and Steve felt the world coming back to him. He wasn't completely alone.
"Sorry," he managed meekly, as he gestured at the ruined bag and its spilled contents. Tony shook his head, steering Steve as he had that night of Steve's apology, towards the door.
"Hey, no, that's actually one of the best things that could've happened," Tony shrugged, pushing Steve through the gym door and walking down the hall, "Jarvis'll have all the data there. We can make sure uh, incidents... like that... don't happen again."
Steve felt sick with shame, knowing full well that Tony was attempting to treat that complete and utter breakdown as a minor inconvenience. He didn't know whether Tony was doing that for his own sake or for Steve's. Tony dropped his hand from Steve's shoulder, seemingly convinced that the blonde wouldn't be having an immediate breakdown, as they entered the kitchen. Steve reluctantly sat at a stool by the counter, as Tony gestured to it. Tony then reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles of liquid, light orange in colour, and tossed one to Steve.
"A pick me up," Tony said by way of explanation, before starting to slam his bottle down. Steve uncapped his own and sniffed at the liquid, before hesitantly taking a sip.
"If I'd have wanted to poison you, Rogers," Tony smirked, "I'd have had multiple opportunities before now."
Steve frowned guiltily, before drinking at a steadier pace. The clock on the wall read half past four, and Steve ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit more than anything else. Tony didn't say a word, instead choosing to rummage through the cupboards. Steve felt like he owed his housemate an explanation, but had absolutely no idea where to begin. Aside from that, he doubted he really wanted to provide one, or even if Tony would want to hear it.
"I get 'em sometimes," Tony said, breaking the silence, before shoving a doughnut into his mouth and chewing languidly, casually meeting Steve's gaze and leaning back against the pantry. He dangled the bag of doughnuts at the Captain, before Steve politely shook his head. Tony shrugged and crammed another into his mouth, before tossing the bag on the counter between them. Steve said nothing, not sure of what Tony was trying to say, and not wanting to guess in case he was wrong. Tony chewed for another couple of minutes, scratching at his beard, before straightening up, only to lean forward on the counter instead.
"The flashbacks, that is," Tony continued, as if there hadn't just been an extended silence hanging in the air, "I mean, I know you've got your own past there Spangles, but I'm guessing you've never tried to ease it off your mind. I imagine it's been chewing you up like even I wouldn't believe."
Steve almost felt angry. How dare Tony pry and make such assumptions? It was completely... accurate. It was then that Steve realised he couldn't really be angry at Tony for doing what Tony did best; being blunt. Instead, Steve turned the focus back to Tony.
"What are yours?" Steve asked quietly, and Tony seized up briefly, clearly not expecting such a simple question. He brushed it off quickly, however, and shrugged.
"One year we made far less profit than expected. Couldn't afford the new jet. Was the worst Christmas ever," Tony forced a fake shudder, and Steve creased his brow, not amused. He finished his drink and placed the bottle on the counter. He should have known better than to expect Tony to be serious. Steve politely thanked Tony for the drink and stood up to head for bed.
"A lot happened whilst you were in ice, Cap," Tony said suddenly, and Steve paused, turning back to face his housemate, "Kidnappings, a couple of near deaths, rogue robotic attacks, you know how it is."
Steve met Tony's gaze, and could see the genius was quietly reflecting on a few memories of his own. This time, a genuine shudder ran over Tony's body, and for the first time that Steve could recall, Tony was the first to break eye contact.
"The world isn't sunshine and daisies. Some horrible shit has happened over the years. It's a right royal shame that you were a popsicle for so long there, Captain," Tony shook his head, slamming down the last dregs of his drink, "But in another way, you were lucky enough to not have seen some of the worst shit come to life."
Steve frowned, and considered arguing that point vehemently, but instead, he turned away. He was suddenly feeling a little worse for wear, fatigue finally starting to set in, realising that maybe he wasn't the only one stuck reliving the past and feeling all the more selfish for the way he was handling it.
"I'm gonna hit the hay," Steve said quietly, "Thanks, Tony."
"Sleep well, Steve."
It took the captain until he was laying in bed, just before he let sleep take its hold, to realise that Tony had called him by his first name for the first time since he'd moved in.
The next time the Avengers were called to action as an entire team, it had been almost 7 months since Loki had made his presence known. Fury had shown up unannounced one morning as Bruce, Steve, and Tony, nursing a mother of a hangover, were languidly sitting around the dining table for breakfast.
"Jarvis, what have I told you about letting strangers in?" Tony groaned, as Fury stood before them, his hands behind his back.
"I can assure you, sir, I tried my best."
"That he did," Fury said quietly, "Despite the fact I was meant to have clearance at all times."
"Must have slipped my mind," Tony shrugged, as Bruce topped up Tony's mug with more coffee.
"We have a situation," Fury explained, dismissing Tony's attitude. It seemed Steve wasn't the only one who handled Tony's sulking with dismissive authority. He then tossed several manila folders onto the table, as Natasha slipped wordlessly into the room and sat beside Steve, picking up a folder of her own. Steve flicked through the folder, not quite understanding what he was reading. By this account, there was a large terrorist organisation on the prowl, but everything else seemed so out of his time that he struggled to grasp the Commander's concerns.
"So wait, let me get this straight," Tony said, holding his folder in his hand, as all attention turned to him, "People still use paper documents? I'm a little insulted. I set the team up with a half decent, no, brilliant communications and file storage system, and we're back to the caveman days of manila folders?"
"I believe you're neglecting the issue at hand, Mister Stark," Fury said sternly, through gritted teeth, and Tony waved a hand.
"Oh, and the terrorist thing, yeah. What's the deal?"
If the situation hadn't been so serious, Steve would have smiled. As it was, however, Fury was throwing Tony a death glare so intense that even Tony was withering a little underneath it.
"They're calling themselves 'Acidity'," Fury began, and Tony let out a disapproving snort, clearly amused by the name, "And they're a little more worthy of your concern than you seem to think, Mister Stark. We've lost eight of our finest in the past month or so tracking them down, with little luck and a whole lotta grief."
Steve took a sidelong glance at Natasha, who was looking even more rundown than usual, and a pang of understanding went through him.
"I hate to drop the M word, but it seems we're dealing with a little more than science, when it comes to these individuals," Fury explained and Tony frowned noticeably, removing his sunglasses and laying them on the table.
"Hocus pocus? Are we being serious?" Tony asked, and Fury fixed him with another unwavering gaze.
"I'd think you'd understand better than most, Mister Stark, that stranger things have happened. It seems that since our Asgardian friends made their appearance very publically well known, minor groups with powers beyond our understanding are starting to crop up at an increasing rate."
"Speaking of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, have we heard from Thunder Thighs lately?" Tony asked, as Fury shook his head, "Because realistically, is there a chance 'hocus pocus' could just translate to 'other worldly'?"
"That, we are yet to neither confirm nor deny. That's where the Avengers step in."
Steve looked at the file again, reading over and over about the countless acts of destruction and violence that Acidity had committed thus far, concern creeping across his features as he realised the acts had gradually gotten worse over time.
"It says here that the last agent to have been sent to search for them has gone missing?" Steve prompted, as Fury nodded, "I thought all of your agents were tracked as part of their contractual agreement?"
"The last time we received a signal was at this location," Fury explained, throwing down an aerial photo of what seemed to be a desert area, and a small, bomb ravaged campsite. Steve watched with growing curiosity, as Fury deliberately turned his attention to Tony, whose face had paled quite significantly. Bruce threw a concerned glance at the billionaire's expression, before taking the picture from Tony's view, to study, or so it would seem.
"What did you find there?" Bruce asked, as Natasha spoke for the first time.
"Nothing but debris and rubble. There was barely any sign that anyone had even been there, aside from those old campsite remains," Natasha flicked her gaze to Tony, before returning back to her file, "It's as if the agent in question completely vanished. No signs of struggle, no signs of injury, no signs of vehicles. Not a thing."
"Well!" Tony clapped once, standing abruptly, and finishing the last of his coffee, "I'll uh, get back to you on that one then, Commander. I imagine a decision can be reached either way. You know how I am with studying, can't really work well with a crowd. Besides, I have that thing. That I need to do. You know, the thing."
Natasha shifted her gaze to the table, staring blankly, as Bruce avoided Tony's gaze, brow furrowed.
"Best you go and study then, Stark," Fury resigned, as Tony clucked his tongue once more as he headed for the door.
"Manila folders, I tell you..." He muttered, heading out of the door with an airy wave of his hand.
There was an awkward silence then, before Steve cleared his throat, not really knowing what had just transpired, but aware that something about this new threat had to be done.
"When are we expected to leave?" Steve asked, and Fury turned his gaze to him.
"Tomorrow morning. Gives you plenty of time to do your research, and whatever else that may be required," At this, Fury met Bruce's gaze.
"He'll come," Bruce said without hesitation, and Fury left with a nod and no further word.
Steve didn't ask, but rather, he excused himself and headed for where he thought Tony may be.
"My apologies, Captain, but Mister Stark has requested that he not be disturbed," the polite voice of Tony's favourite Artificial Intelligence replied to Steve's request for access to the lab.
"It's Avengers related, Jarvis."
"I'm aware, Captain. However, I must insist that in this instance-"
"Tony?" Steve asked, ignoring the AI's response and knocking on the door to the lab. There was an extended silence, and Steve pressed his forehead against the glass door, trying to spot Tony in the darkness. It seemed as if Tony had all the shutters down. There was a dim glow by the window, and Steve assumed it was one of Tony's tablet devices or the likes.
"Tony?" Steve repeated, after knocking once again. The glow shifted slightly, and there was another pause. Steve thought he could hear Jarvis saying something on the other side of the glass, but the soundproofing was enough that he couldn't quite make it out. He didn't need to for much longer however, as the door slid open moments later. Steve stepped inside, and heard Tony murmur something, just before the lights flicked on.
"It's an interesting read, I gotta say," Tony said by way of greeting, his eyes raking over the folder before him, "The kind of stuff bedtime stories are made of."
Steve didn't say anything, as he took in Tony's intense gaze on the page, a glass of what looked to be bourbon in his fingers as he read.
"Tony, it's not even noon."
"It's evening somewhere. Australia, I bet. Jarvis, what's the time in Australia right about now?" Tony asked, waving his bourbon as he asked.
"Depends on the state, sir."
"Is it night time?" Tony asked, frustration in his tone.
"Yes sir."
"There you go, Cap. Plenty late to be drinking," Tony defended, finally meeting Steve's gaze for the first time since the captain had entered the lab. Steve put on his best Captain America face, and Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut.
"You're really... annoying when you do that," he mumbled into his hand, Steve resisting the urge to place his hands on his hips.
"What was that all about?" Steve asked quietly, and Tony waved a hand airily, taking another long swig of his drink with the other.
"I kept thinking that myself. Jarvis is meant to be top of the line and Fury still manages to worm his way in," Tony deflected, " Every time I fix a security flaw, Fury finds another. Maybe you were right to worry about security after all."
"My apologies, sir," Jarvis remarked, as Tony drained the last of his drink, holding his glass out expectantly.
"Not your fault," Tony shrugged, as Steve shook his head.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
Tony sighed as Dummy finally made his way over and took the glass from Tony's hand, heading to the bar. Tony asked for Jarvis to lift the shutter nearest to where he was sitting, and the playboy lost a little of the life from his eyes as he gazed out the window. Suddenly, Steve felt as if he were intruding. Something about this moment for Tony seemed so raw, so personal, that Steve felt he had no right to be there. Tony, however, began to speak to the Captain regardless, tapping the device in his chest.
"Did you read my file?" Tony asked, as Steve shook his head. He'd been handed it by Fury at one point, as he had with all of the others, but had steeled himself and refused to judge his team mates on their past, wishing only to know them by their actions in the now and the future. It was how it had been during the war, and how it should be for anywhere else. You earn a comrade's story, you don't read about it. Tony looked momentarily surprised at this, before turning his gaze back out the window at the city below.
"I was involved in supplying the military with ammunitions. It was kind of my 'thing'," Tony began, and Steve nodded. That much he had read from articles.
"I was out with the army when our convoy was attacked. I was yanked from where I lay and taken to some little crapshack in the middle of the desert. They wanted me to make them a missile that would probably have started the next world war. This," Tony said, tapping at the device on his chest once again, "Was created there. So was the first Iron Man suit, so to speak. I dunno what the hell they were doing in the time it took me to make it, because they never seemed to really catch on, but I got away with it and it kept me alive."
Tony hesitated then, as if debating whether or not to share more. He pressed on, however, as Dummy brought him another drink.
"There was someone held captive with me. He wasn't so lucky. He gave his life making sure I kept mine." Steve had never seen a man slam down a full strength spirit so quickly in his life. Tony spluttered slightly, handing Dummy the now empty glass, "Needless to say, I dropped out of weapons after that."
Steve remained quiet for quite some time, before moving over to sit beside Tony on the couch, his gaze fixed outside as well. Dummy attempted to hand him a drink, but Steve awkwardly shook his head.
"To me, Dummy," Tony sighed, as the robot moved to the other side of the couch.
"That picture of the desert..." Steve began slowly, and Tony nodded.
"I went back there with a new suit. Did whatever damage I could. Would have recognised it from a mile away," Tony explained, moving to take a sip from his drink, but lowering it in thought instead. He set it on the coffee table beside him, where Dummy moved to pick it up, before Tony swatted at him without even shifting his gaze. The robot seemed to flinch, before heading away.
"You were right, Cap, I'm no hero. I'm a man that other people make meaningless sacrifices for, and use other people's downfalls for my own gain."
Steve sat silently, his hands folded politely in his lap, although he wrung them slightly, wanting to say or do something, anything, to let Tony know that it was going to be alright, and he was horribly, horribly wrong. He knew how selfless Tony was, seen an act of it with his own eyes. He knew how much of a front Tony put up when it came to charitable donations, throwing a carefree air, pretending like it was a chore. But he'd seen tiny signs that showed that most of what Tony did was a front. Tony had donated money to a children's hospital, and there was a colour photo spread in the papers of a young girl handing him a toy bear, a softer light than was the norm in Tony's eyes. 'Not exactly my favourite thing to cuddle of a night time', Tony had notoriously flirted with the reporter, and all discussions of the gift had vanished. Steve hadn't thought much of it, until he'd approached Tony's lab for the first time, and seen that very same bear in a prime position on the inventor's desk. As Tony sat there, however, offering a tiny insight into who the real Tony Stark was, Steve couldn't imagine what that would have been like, and despite all of his hardships in life, he saw Tony's as being worse. The serum had been a blessing for Steve, whilst the Iron Man suit, at times, seemed to be a curse for Tony.
"Maybe he saw the potential you have in you. I'm sure he knew what you were capable of before you yourself did," Steve offered, and Tony offered a humourless snort of laughter.
"Potential the suit has..." Tony corrected, but Steve shook his head.
"I read an article once where a great man once said that Iron Man and Tony Stark are one and the same. They don't exist without the other."
Tony offered a small smile, as he ran a hand through his own hair, a habit Steve was all too aware of with himself.
"Even great men can be wrong. Ooh boy can they be wrong," Tony murmured, and Steve noticed his voice was slightly slurred. It seemed the alcohol was taking its effect.
"We need you to start believing in yourself as much as everyone else does," Steve said, slightly frustrated, and his Captain America voice coming back full force. It was enough to draw Tony's gaze to his own.
"The Avengers needs Iron Man as much as it needs anybody else. The world needs Iron Man, needs Tony Stark more than they're probably willing to give credit for," Steve continued, and Tony's gaze intensified. His expression was serious, the unbelieving smirk slipping away, as a few moments passed.
"Even the mighty Captain America, fearless, courageous, America's sweetheart incarnated, would ask for my help?" Tony asked, as Steve gave a small nod. The air felt a bit thicker, as Tony refused to break eye contact, holding Steve's gaze firmly, a frown along his lips as if he were lost in thought.
"Sir?" Jarvis interrupted.
"Yes?"
"Doctor Banner is requesting your presence."
Tony didn't say a word, still holding Steve's gaze.
"Sir?" Jarvis prompted after a few moments.
"Alright, alright. Tell him I'll be there in ten, and I'm not an idiot, I know what he's going to say," Tony rushed, taking one last sip from his glass, still almost full, before calling Dummy over, finally breaking away from Steve's gaze. He handed the robot his glass and patted the automatic arm affectionately, almost apologetically, as he stood.
"Tony", Steve floundered, as Stark turned with a questioning raise of his brow, "There's no shame in asking for help."
Tony's lips parted, as if he were going to speak, but he closed them, offering a characteristic charming smile and squeezing Steve's shoulder again.
"You're alright for an old guy," Tony said, before taking up his coat and heading out of the lab, leaving Steve to his thoughts as he gazed out the window.
Steve was still a little awed each time he saw the Iron Man suit actually being worn, even if Tony had the helmet off. They were sitting on a SHIELD issued plane, of which Tony was quick to remark was sub-par compared to anything he could have provided for the team, despite it being far more advanced than anything of Steve's time. Tony indeed had his helmet off, as he chattered away somewhat aimlessly about all of the imperfections that the craft offered. Steve offered a small smile in Bruce's direction, even as the doctor sweat slightly. Confined spaces made him nervous, Bruce had confessed, and Steve could easily see why. Natasha was seated by the pilot, and Clint had stayed back at base. Steve had been told earlier that day that the reason Clint had been spending so much time at the tower was because he'd been forced onto extended leave, with Fury citing a potential threat due to post traumatic stress disorder that Clint had received from Loki's mind meddling the last time they'd been together as a team. No member had argued against the decision as much as Natasha or Steve, but Nick Fury was not a man who would budge easily. Steve had resigned to following orders, and Natasha had lividly agreed to tag along. Steve wondered if Fury's decision had caused more of a bad mindset for the team than letting Clint come along would have. Steve thought that the SHIELD agent was more than capable of fighting, but it had been drilled into him to follow orders, and he hadn't managed to break that habit as of yet.
They'd been in the air for several hours, after a stopover in which Tony and Bruce had absolutely demolished a banquet lunch prepared by SHIELD, and with the speed at which their aircraft flew, Steve knew it wouldn't be much longer until they reached their destination. The plan was pretty straight forward. They were to head in and do a secondary scan of the area where the last agent had gone missing, after reports of activity had been made before Fury had shown up the day prior to their departure. If they found anything, all the better. If not, they were to meet back at Stark Tower and debrief Fury, before being given further intel and directives. Steve startled then, as Tony's helmet flicked up with a mechanical 'clunk', and he could hear Jarvis speaking through it.
"Sir, incoming call from Miss Potts."
"It can wait," Tony waved dismissively, but Jarvis had seemingly already answered the call.
"Ah, Pepper," Tony grimaced, as Bruce gave a knowing smile, "No, of course not. Now is a peachy time. I'm kind of on my way to the desert though."
Pepper's sigh was loud enough that it was audible even from Steve's distance. It seemed Tony had made previous arrangements, which Pepper would now have to cover him for. He cringed at her tone of voice, before offering an apology and guaranteeing he'd make up for it several times, before Pepper disconnected the call with a resigned sigh.
"You'll be the death of her," Bruce chided, and Tony's brow furrowed.
"Yeah, that's what she said when she called it off."
It was a bit of a sudden revelation, and Bruce shifted uncomfortably, as both Tony and Steve ran a hand through their hair awkwardly. Steve met Tony's eyes as they did so, and the two shared in an awkward laugh.
"Approaching the drop zone," the pilot crackled through the speakers, as Tony grinned mischievously, pressing a button to drop the helmet over his face.
"Looks like it's go time, gentlemen," He said, his voice slightly tinny through the suit. Bruce checked and rechecked his parachute as Natasha climbed into the back with the rest of them. She gave Bruce and Steve an encouraging nod, turning to face Tony.
"Are you going to be alright?" She asked, and Steve watched as Tony put a hand over his chest plate.
"Natasha, what is this side of you? Concerned for my welfare? I'm... touched..." He remarked, and even though Steve couldn't see his face, he knew that Tony was feigning both surprise and flattery, despite the tone of his voice. Natasha rolled her eyes and clocked him in the arm, almost playfully. She pulled on her own parachute, as Steve tightened his own, and the hatch door of the plane opened. Natasha waited for the go ahead from the pilot, before she was first to leap from the plane, with Bruce holding his breath and jumping out shortly after, seemingly before he could change his mind. Tony flicked his helmet open once more, as Steve looked out uncertainly from the hatch.
"You right there Cap?" Tony asked, before Steve offered a nod. Tony shrugged, flicking his helmet back down and leaping from the plane, his boosters kicking in as he took off through the air.
"Ready to leave, Captain?" The pilot asked, as Steve swallowed thickly. There were plenty of other things he could think of doing, but he nodded firmly and took a breath, before leaping from the plane, his shield pressed firmly against him and his mask clinging to his face. The wind rushed past his ears, and he felt that human rush of adrenaline, as he looked down at the sandy terrain below. There was a brief moment of exhilaration, before his chest seized slightly. They were indeed right near the dropzone, and because Steve had been last to leave, he was closest to the rendezvous point. The point where, it turned out, those signs of activity were not wrong. He realised that one of the men below were locked onto him with... Was that a rocket launcher?
Steve barely had time to register, before a missile was sailing through the air towards him with frightening speed. He held out his shield, even as the missile exploded on impact with it. Steve was slightly winded, but otherwise unharmed, feeling a bit lighter than before. He rolled to the side, still falling, and pulled for his chute to open. That was when he realised that the lack of weight was because his parachute had been burned by the explosion and partially torn from its pack. It wasn't deploying. Steve had a moment of panic, before he saw the gunman below hit with several beams of light, as Steve fell closer and closer to the Earth. It was then that he spluttered, as he was caught by the waist, the air being ripped from his lungs.
"Wa-hey!" he heard Tony through his earpiece, as Steve rolled through the air once more. It was then that he realised that there were more shots being fired, and it was Tony who had caught him mid flight.
"You alright Spangles?" Tony asked, slightly breathless, as Steve nodded, "Good. Cause I'm gonna, you know, throw you at those guys."
Steve barely had a chance to ask "What?" before Tony had stuck to his word. They were close enough to the ground for it to have not been too much of a problem, but as Steve was bowled into the ground forces, knocking them off their feet, he himself staggered a bit to get up.
"Are you crazy?!" Steve barked, as he heard Tony let out a laugh, before firing more of his weapons at the remaining individuals. There was a cave network nearby, and Steve quickly noticed that the entrance was where the seemingly constant flow of terrorists was pouring from. His attention was quickly drawn back to the men he had bowled over, however, as they started getting to their feet and firing their weapons. Steve kept his shield out as a weapon, as much as for defence. He used it to knock several men out, before using his fists and feet to do the same for the others. There was a thunderous roar then, and a body flew past him, sailing through the air before hitting a wooden crate with a sickening crunch.
The hulk had joined the party.
The team made quick work of the individuals who had come at them from the caves, until the flow eventually stopped. Tony landed beside Steve, placing a hand on his shoulder. The gesture had become more comforting than concerning over the past few weeks, and Steve felt a little reassurance from the weight of his teammate's hand. Tony flipped open his helmet and gave a cheeky grin.
"That was some pretty impressive shieldwork there, gramps," Tony remarked, and Steve nodded in thanks.
"Not too bad yourself, sonny."
"I know I'm brilliant, you don't need to give me praise," Tony offered a fleeting wink, and Steve let a small smile through, as he fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Natasha stood at Tony's other side, and Tony turned his attentions her way, as she wiped at a trail of blood from her mouth.
"All good there, Romanov?" Tony asked, and she smirked.
"You should see the other guys..."
The hulk grunted as he approached, and Steve nodded his acknowledgment of what he knew was Bruce under all that green.
The four of them stood, looking around the area, before they began properly restraining their attackers. Natasha frowned the entire time.
"What's wrong?" Steve asked, as her lips pulled into a tight line.
"Something's not right," She explained, "These aren't like the people we've fought before. They went down too easily. Like lambs at the slaughter."
"Are we seriously complaining over an easy win?" Tony asked, "Seriously?"
"I think we need to go inside," She explained, and Tony's brow creased, before he nodded wordlessly.
After they'd restrained those that had survived (Pretty much just those Steve had fought, as the others tended to use a little more... force), they approached the cave entrance and Natasha lead the way in, the hulk squeezing in just behind her. As Steve moved to step in, he noticed Tony holding back, and turned to face his teammate. Tony had an odd expression on his face, his eyes glazed, and his lips parted slightly, as if stuck in a memory he couldn't quite snap out of.
"Tony..." Steve said gently, as slowly, Tony's eyes returned to normal, and he blinked several times, turning his attention to the Captain. He offered Steve a weak smile, before flipping his helmet down.
"Stark, Rogers, get in here," Natasha spoke through their headsets, and Steve waited for Tony to make the first move. He didn't.
"You ever been back to the crash site?" Tony asked, and Steve wished that his teammate had kept the helmet off, because he would have given anything to read what was on Tony's face as he spoke those words.
"Yes," Steve answered truthfully, trying to push the memory as far away as he could. It had been one of the first places that he'd gone after their first battle. He'd figured if he could have gone back to where it all ended- no, where it all began- he could get a little more clarity on where he was meant to go next. All it had caused, however, was a surge of bad memories and an aching loneliness he hadn't been able to shake until he was back with his team. He was who he was now, and he'd told himself that he had to stop dwelling on the past or it would tear him apart.
"When did that sinking, tight kind of feeling start to ease up?" Tony asked, a low voice, probing, honest, and a little raw.
"When I came home. When I realised that it was all in the past, that I wasn't as alone or as frightened as I thought I should be, and that I had a job to do. Not just for me, but for everyone else. I had a role to fill, and I had people who would help me fill it."
There was a brief silence then, and despite the helmet hiding Tony's face, Steve could feel Tony's eyes on his own.
"I'll take your word for it."
It was a simple statement, open to interpretation, but after he'd said it, Tony stepped forward and passed Steve, entering the cave. The lights from his suit illuminated it enough for Steve to feel comfortable following after him, shield raised, and his eyes fixed on Tony's back, even as Tony himself forced his stride back into one of false confidence once again.
A/N: Read and review, more to come soon.