A/N: I've decided to upload all my fics into a single account. eye of the beholder until let the walls break down were originally only uploaded to my AO3 account, callingthequits. Then I went back to my roots and thought, "Hey, why not post it on Fanfiction too?" so here I am.

This is related to my other story, blown up (in my face).

It's unsurprising because despite his upbringing and the fact that he was born, forever and always, a cherry-cheeked, apple pie 40's kid, it's a case of simple genetics. Super genetics, super blood, and while he isn't an absolute genius, he's noticed that ever since the serum his mind was quicker to notice, quicker to understand, quicker to plan against with the best offense and defense that makes him the tactician of the team. He's a man in his twenties. Men in their twenties have needs.

And at the same time, it's very much surprising and out of the blue when Steve comes to the workshop for the first time, sees Tony wearing nothing other than a tight tank top and some random sweatpants, and, for the life of him, can't stop looking.

Because when you're a playboy, you have to be quite good-looking to hold a sliver of those girls' attention and-Steve sneaks a peak at Tony, as this was only their fifth month of living in the Tower, and Tony didn't actually come to the gym yet-the man currently not paying attention to him, the one with scratches and bits of oil and sweat all over his body, the body that is very much distracting him because he never actually knew a man could have hips like that without being surgically altered.

Steve tries not to think of the fact that Tony isn't even trying to look attractive right now, that this is all part of his natural charm, natural charm that Steve is responding positively to. He swallows, because Tony just turned around and he is trying, determinedly, not to look past the upper torso. The worst part is that it isn't even helping; no, nope, nuh-uh. Because Tony has some impressive shoulders, and Steve is utterly convinced that Tony has no idea what he is doing to him, because, for a lack of better term:

Damn.

Um.

Er.

Steve's defense is that nobody sane would disagree.

And when Tony turns to look at him, he's smiling, saying, "I can't believe you're still here," Steve has to catch his breath, because the hologram's light is hitting him just right, coupled with the arc reactor in his chest, a soft twitch of his lips and a mischievous but almost fond glint in his eyes. So he just blinks, knowing that picture will haunt his dreams tonight, his thoughts, his little notebook in the second drawer, everything; and tries to smile back.

"Well, the food is waiting," Steve says, his mind knowing the routine, his mouth knowing the words, but his heartbeats still well above his normal rate. He watches as Tony rolls his eyes, grumbles a bit, and still picks up his screwdriver, and Steve knows he's waiting to hear the footsteps, slide of the doors, irritated huff of yet another person giving up on him. Steve knows this, and adamantly refuses to give Tony what he expects, if only to look at him some more, if only for Steve to appreciate and admire from afar.

Even if he doesn't understand, and he doesn't exactly want to. Because heaven forbid if Steve would pick up a book on mechanics and engineering just to get Tony's attention, but God knows he would, he would, just to see a brilliant, happy grin in return. He doesn't understand this longing, doesn't know why he wants to come closer, wants to know if Tony's eyelashes really are that long.

Steve doesn't know why he's in love with Tony.

Because Tony is reckless and abrasive and brash, doesn't listen to him, doesn't listen to anyone. Because Tony is arrogant and sarcastic and headstrong and doesn't say no, not ever, not on his life. Because Tony is a touch uncaring and cold and a bit of apathetic, and he's still here, he doesn't have to still be here. Because Tony is brittle and hurting and so quiet about the things he should be talking about, to Pepper, to the team, to him. Because Tony is broken and believes himself worthless but he's so, so deserving of everything good that's happened to him and he doesn't know that, for all his genius.

Steve doesn't know why he's in love with Tony, because he sees this, all of this, and it only makes him love the man more.

And later, when it's almost been a year since they first came together, is the first Movie Night that he's seen Tony smile so truthfully, so hopefully, heartbreakingly innocent and real, so softly and so perfect and so beautiful. He honestly couldn't breathe, unable to tear his eyes away, and Tony catches him staring.

And instead of looking disgusted, or terrified, he looks away with a tinge of pink on his cheeks. But if you look closer, or have super eyesight, you can notice the almost giddy look in his eyes.

Steve could kiss him, but for now he's pretty happy just watching.