Authors Note: Hey guys! So, originally I was going to write a novel this month (for National Novel Writing Month, in case any of you are curious!) but after some thinking I realized I wouldn't have the time I needed to plan out and pursue it. So, instead, I figured I would still try and write 50,000….of fanfiction! This month I'll be working on Stony oneshots! I have a list of prompts going, but if you want anything specific please feel free to suggest it! My goal is to update this with my writing for the day, but that may not happen…regardless, this will eventually be 50,000 words worth of Stony.

Tony was never one to take things slow. From his fast cars to pulling all-nighters in the lab in order to fix things in record time, taking time seemed to be, well, a waste of time. There were always a million thoughts running through his mind, most of which were in and out before they had a chance to impact him.

Lately, though, he'd found his thoughts a little more organized and focused. Of course, they had to pick the worst focal point possible – Captain America. It wasn't the first time Tony had found himself mesmerized by the patriotically-clad superhero – most of his childhood was spent living in the shadow of the then-presumed dead man, and he wasn't particularly ashamed to admit that quite a few of his teenager wet-dreams were fuelled by stolen photos of the attractive blonde. Still, he had thought that had been no more than a simple phase, one that he'd most certainly outgrown after he took over his father's company and found he had choice pick over nearly any girl he wanted.

Then the golden boy just had to come back into the picture and reawaken every young fantasy Tony Stark had had. He tried to reason with himself, really, he did. It wasn't his fault the captain was unfairly attractive (both physically and, as Tony was realizing now, personality-wise)! He'd be surprised if he could find anyone who would disagree with his assessment, anyone who would pass up a chance to bang the Captain if they were given an opportunity. He had only felt mildly guilty for his thoughts when he was with Pepper – after all, wasn't everyone allowed a freebie or two? It's not like it would ever actually happen, he didn't see the harm in thinking about it – but once he and Pepper had split, he found his thoughts honed in on the Captain for too often. While he once prided himself on keeping his head on his work, he had accidentally set his lab on fire twice this week alone, all because he had gotten distracted.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot the billionaire could do. Steve was a guy from the forty's, no way was he even remotely interested in pursuing anything with a guy. While Tony knew that the Captain had been adapting to modern times and tended to have both an open mind and an understanding attitude, he had a feeling that a confession of this nature would push him over the edge and perhaps ruin their already-unstable relationship. He'd managed to fend off his impatient libido for a while, thanks mostly due to hand jobs and the occasional prostitute. Before long, however, he found the 'occasional' prostitute happening less and less, as a good fuck became a decent fuck became a lousy fuck, all because his mind couldn't get past the one thing it had decided it wanted most – to fuck Captain Steve Rogers.

It didn't help that Tony had never been told no, by himself or others. Even as a child all he had to do was say the word and whatever foolishness he wanted would be brought to him, mostly due to his father's efforts to keep him quiet while he continued the search for the one thing he wanted, to find what he deemed to be the best creation known to mankind. As an adult, Tony had the money and resources to get whatever he wanted – whether that be a girl or an object, and the capabilities to build whatever he wanted if it didn't already exist. What Tony Stark wanted, Tony Stark got. No one had ever tried to stand in his way, let alone himself, and his mind wasn't exactly open to a chance in the status quo. No, not this time. Not when it was something he wanted so terribly bad, something he had wanted since he was a kid, since before he knew what it was like to really, really want something. He knew it was only a matter of time before his mind won out, before he realized the self-administered hand jobs weren't really doing the trick anymore, before he was unable to talk himself out of charging into this and assuming the best would happen. The thought terrified him, because he knew the best wouldn't happen. He knew if he treated this like every other relationship he'd had, well, it would end up like every other relationship he'd ever had. Badly, and quickly. And that wasn't what he wanted with Steve. He knew that. This thing he had going on for the Captain (because right now it was most definitely a thing, no more and no less) wasn't something that would go away easily, and if ever finally got the Captain, he was uncertain as to whether he'd be able to let him go.

"Stark?" A smooth voice jolted Tony from his thoughts, his grip slackening on the wrench he had been holding and forcing him to jerk rather unattractively in order to catch it.

"Heya, Cap! Whatcha need?" He didn't even bother asking how Steve had gotten into the lab – Jarvis had taken some semblance of pity (or whatever pity a robot could have) on the man and tended to do things automatically, rather than force Steve into feeling like an idiot as he spoke to the ceiling.

"Nothing really, I just…" The Captain trailed off, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a move Tony could only think of to describe as adorable. Damn, even he knew he had it bad now – everything Steve did just screamed cute and adorable and unknowingly attractive. Tony tapped his foot, urging the Captain to continue before his thoughts got the better of him. Luckily, Steve seemed to get the hint.

"You missed dinner, is all. I mean, Bruce said Jarvis would tell you, but I guess you were busy? I left a plate in the fridge for you, anyway, but well…it's next to all the other plates from the past week. Tony, when was the last time you had an actual meal?"

Tony worked to beat down the flittering in his stomach at the thought of Steve fretting about him. One look into his eyes made the entire process easier – Steve had somehow mastered the kicked-puppy completely worried expression since he had woken up, despite the fact that he had the build of, well, a super soldier. Lowering the wrench onto the table, he tried, unsuccessfully, to break eye contact with the soldier before attempting to swallow what felt like a glued lump of dry clay trapped in his throat.

"It hasn't been that long, Cap. I've only been down here for a couple hours, at most –"

"Tony, no one's seen you for at least a week now."

He dragged a hand threw his dirty brunette locks, letting out a sigh of frustration. Had it really been that long? It didn't look like he had made that much progress…

"Tony," Cap's voice had changed now, that kicked puppy expression morphing into one of mild frustration and motherly concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, I guess it might have been that long…"

Before he knew what was happening strong hands had grabbed his shoulders, forcefully pulling the chair out and dragging him up. Tony bit his lip in surprise and tried to hide the reaction the blonde manhandling had on him.

"Ah – whatcha doing, Cap?"

"Bringing you upstairs. You need to eat, Tony."

"I'm perfectly capable of moving myself, you know." Steve stared down at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Really? I figured without the suit you were immobile." Oh god, Tony thought, he's started picking up on how to sass people, too. As if he wasn't already great, now he's trying to raise the bar on perfection. Instead of responding Tony merely rolled his eyes, giving in and allowing the Captain to move him as he pleased.

After a few moments of silence and impatiently waiting for Steve to start heading towards the kitchen (impatient only because his mind had finally become aware of just how hungry he was – he was perfectly fine staying in Steve's grip for a while) Tony finally gave in.

"You planning on moving anytime soon?" Steve's hands moved a bit, starting to lift up before faltering and sinking back down, gripping the other's shoulders tighter than ever (Tony liked to believe Steve had moved them back of his own accord, and not because Tony had let out a more-than-pitiful sound at the loss of contact).

"How'd you remember to eat before, Tony? When you lived alone?"

"Same way I do now. Someone's always around to remind me – Pepper, Jarvis, you…" Tony trailed off, looking up at Steve, waiting for the other man to make a sound of disapproval at the suggested relationship between the two of them, minor as it may be.

"Why do you think we do that, Tony?"

"Well…Jarvis is programed to keep me alive, and Pepper sort of is too…as for you, I don't know. Your motives are a mystery to me, Cap." At this, Steve sighed, gripping his shoulders a little tighter, a faint hint of discomfort shooting through Tony before disappearing completely as Steve pulled him closer, resting their foreheads together.

"You know, people do care about you, Stark." Tony's eyes were wide, and he was fairly certain his cheeks were just barely starting to grow warm. It was growing harder to hide what Steve was doing to him, what Steve was making him want to do.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Good." With that, Steve abruptly pulled away, releasing Tony completely before turning his back to him and making as if he were heading towards the door. Tony stayed motionless, shocked and honestly a little disappointed at the very sudden lack of contact, and somehow Steve knew, like he always did. Turning back ever so slightly, he gave Tony a half-smile, reaching his hand out and grabbing the shorter man's, gripping it tightly and tugging. Tony couldn't help the smile that crept up his face as he allowed himself to be dragged out of the room, holding the soldier's hand tight and preventing any chance of losing contact (and if Steve smiled a little wider at the gesture, well, who was to notice? Certainly not the genius who, as they would both realize later, would refuse to let go of said hand all night).