There's something to be said for animal instinct. It provides even nature's most advanced and wayward children ways to sense the world around them in ways that all their quantifiable senses could not. For example, it allowed Tony sense that not only that there were eyes on him, but also, who they belonged to.
"Hey Steve," he called out, not even needing to turn from the flashing screen mounted on the wall.
"Tony." It also let him know that Steve was smiling.
But while mother nature gifts her children some natural instinct, she does not give away all the answers.
Steve's smile was a fond, soft-eyed smile beginning in the corners of his lips, threatening to take over, the same way it always, inevitably, did when he was around Tony. And that last bit, as always, went unnoticed by both parties. It was a little sad.
"What are you up to?" he asked, leaning against doorway, blocking it almost completely with his bulk.
"Designing a special safe that Natasha can't break into. She keeps stealing all of my coffee." He finally turned, revealing bags under his eyes, as dark as bruises. "I need my coffee."
Steve stared, horrified. "You need sleep!" he said.
Tony scoffed. "Sleep's for losers. I've got science!" He returned to his design.
What he didn't see was the poorly disguised look of deception that briefly stole across the captain's face, as he considered the best way to trick Tony into bed. (Not the way you're thinking, unfortunately. Pre-gay rights repression sucks.)
He had been taking some lessons from Natasha in the art of lying, but she had told him, with what might have been sadness, but was probably neutrality, that he would never be very accomplished at it. Manipulation was even harder for him. It worked best when he stuck very close to the truth. (Or, at least, the truth as he saw it.)
"Could we maybe talk, then, while you do that?"
Tony did not notice that Steve was not being as persistent as usual. Normally he would not give up even if he had to throw him over his shoulder and ask Jarvis to shut him out a while, for his own health. It didn't work most times because Tony took it as a challenge to hack his creation's blocks. This lack of suspicion was mostly due to sleep deprivation, but also because the computer in front of him was very shiny and had lots of numbers.
"Yeah, sure," he said. "Pull up a chair." He even half turned from the monitor at the tone in his friend's voice.
Guilt is a wonderful tool, Natasha said in his head, but sympathy is even better if you can get it.
"It's been bugging me for a while," he started, "that everyone here has trained, or studied, or experimented to earn their spot here, except for me. I just got lucky, and sometimes I feel more like an anchor than a leader here," Steve admitted, taking up a large portion of Tony's workbench.
Tony snorted. "You can't be an anchor; you've never even tried yoga," he blurted, then backtracked when he saw the confusion on the captain's face. "Well, it's just that you'd have to do the splits, except with your legs bending up and your arms out like this..." He trailed off, his arms held out parallel to the floor.
Tony dropped his arms and pressed his way onto the little space left on the bench, sighing. "I'm sleep deprived and we're out of coffee, so bear with me." He studiously did not look at him. "You are the best leader I have ever served under, and before you say anything about that not being very many people at all, I know that, and that's why this is important. You have actually managed what most of my teachers growing up said was impossible- you have made me play nice with others. And I'm not the only one. This team is filled with hooligans and ne'erdowells, or whatever it is you called people like us back in the forties, and you have pulled us all together into something, well, not good, but helpful to the world in general. We'd follow you anywhere."
Steve hadn't said anything throughout his entire rant and it was starting to freak Tony out a little. He jumped up from the bench suddenly, mumbling something worrying about new safe schematics and plutonium. He wasn't prepared when a hand reached up to touch his wrist and he froze just long enough to be pulled into a gentle, yet firm hug by Captain freakin' America.
"Thank you." He... hadn't expected that. It was nice. It really felt like it meant something coming from Tony and now he was starting to feel guilty all over again. He was glad that his friend could not see the red spreading across his cheeks.
The older man squirmed, feeling his face flush. Of course Steve didn't believe in brief, manly man hugs, with only the minimum contact required. This was his life, why would he ever expect it to throw him a bone. Boners were another thing, but he forced himself to remember accidentally seeing Bruce leaving Clint's room looking extremely disheveled, and suddenly that wasn't a problem anymore. Small miracles. "So, now that all this talk about "feelings" is over, I am going to go. As soon as you release me. Preferably now."
He felt a huff of breath rustling his hair as the warm chest pressed against his began to quake with laughter. "Says the man who gives half his inventions their own personalities."
"Sociopaths have personalities too, doesn't mean they have feelings. Now put me down." Another full bodied laugh shook him until he was finally released.
If Steve felt any odd pangs of disappointment upon finally releasing the smaller man, he did not notice it, and so it didn't show. Instead he simply said, "Will you follow one of my orders first, then? Before you get back to work?"
And Tony knew that he didn't mean it the way little Tony kept insisting he did, but Bruce with hickeys wasn't working anymore and he wasn't in charge for the moment. "Yes," he said, in a voice that was almost normal except it wasn't as sarcastic as usual, but that could be chalked up them having a moment, couldn't it? Yes, unfortuately, it could.
Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder, looked deep into his eyes, and said, "Go to bed."
It took little Tony a few, reasonable, seconds to figure out that 'with me' would not be tacked onto that sentence, and he deflated slowly, sadly.
Properly sized Tony simply grinned, because once he was back in control of his brain, he was actually very intelligent, no, really, and he figured it all out rather quickly. "Natasha."
Being a true gentleman, Steve blushed at manipulating his friend so, even if it was for his own good. He took his hand off Tony's shoulder. "Sorry."
But Tony just kept grinning, because really, he couldn't just say no now. Well he could, but Steve looked like a puppy who knew he shouldn't chew on socks, and was caught doing so anyways. His heart might be sharing his chest with a glowing, blue circle, but it wasn't missing. "Wake me up if cyborg clowns or something start attacking the city. Again."
And Steve smiled at him, a bit too brightly. Not that either of them noticed, because if there is one thing you should gather from this exchange, it is this: they may have been intelligent, but that didn't mean they couldn't be idiots.
Authors notes: I am so sorry. Dust bunnies made of powdery crack decided to lay seige upon my brain and would not cease until this was finished. Please note that it was written during a bout of insomnia between 2 and 4 in the morning.