This is inspired by a fanvideo I saw and adored by Firenstone_4221B. This video had a TON of clips not just from Marvel movies, but from other Chris Evans and RDJ movies as well. And I've quoted a lot of that video so I've got a list of all the sources she used, because copyright:

A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints, Puncture, Fantastic Four 1 and 2, Iron Man 1, 2, 3, Due Date, Push, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, London, Playing It Cool, Wonder Boys, Route 50, Avengers 1, Captain America 1, Thor 1, Singing Detective, What's Your Number, Less Than Zero, Cellular.

I don't own any of these. I personally suggest holding off watching Firenstone_4221B's beautiful video so you don't spoil the ending of this fic, but if you don't care then go to YouTube and add this: /watch?v=wyrWNhbHB_8. It will break your heart.

Yes, so warnings: In this story there will be past abuse, rape, depictions of kidnapping and torture, and major character death (that, I promise, turns out okay guys). Pretty much par for the course with me, if we're being honest here. On that note, for anyone interested, I haven't given up on my other story and you can expect an update shortly. Enjoy!

There was a crash across Steve's dingy apartment kitchen and then Tony was stomping toward him, rage bubbling behind brown eyes that pinned Steve to his own kitchen chair.

"Did you love me?"

Steve opened his mouth but no sound came out. Tony stared at him, visibly fuming.

"C'mon, lie to me and tell me you did. Make me feel like the piece of shit I am, DID YOU LOVE ME OR NOT!"

Steve gaped as he realized exactly where this was coming from, what Tony was talking about. His heart pounded in his ears and suddenly he was choking on his own breath. Heknowsheknowsheknows –

"Just -" his voice cracked and he couldn't get anything out.

"ANSWER ME!"

The world crystalized. This was it. It was over, Tony was never going to forgive him for this and he had no excuses to give.

"Just give me a chance," he choked out. It was quiet and all Steve could really say, and more than he had the right to ask. Of course he loved Tony. But if anything had proven that Tony deserved better, it was this right here.

Tony was panting, staring at Steve like he was really seeing him for the first time. He shook his head in disgust and turned away. Steve watched as his shoulders bunched up and fuck, this couldn't get any worse - he knew what Tony looked like when he was about to cry and tried to hold it back anyway. He'd faced him before, voice gentle as he told him it was okay not to shove it down all the time. He knew what his face looked like in moments like this, tortured and small, eyes glittering and mouth pressed hard.

Tony stayed like that for a while, and all he wanted to do was reach a hand out. Every tensed muscle, every uneven breath - he wanted to take it away, take it back, do it all again differently. It wasn't supposed to end up like this.

Finally Tony spoke, his back still turned, and his voice was final and absolute.

"No."

Steve expected as much, but it still felt like a punch. He nodded and forced his voice to stay steady.

"Then if you run now, I won't tell them where you are, or where you're going."

There was a tiny pause - one small moment left for Steve to look at him, be with him, remember every curve and breath. And then Tony sped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

All at once that terrible pressure was gone, but the air had been sucked out the door when Tony slammed it and it was like Steve's childhood asthma had come back. The air was solid, hard, not breathable –

Steve stared at the door, where his entire future had just left him and was never coming back. At the flaking paint on the kitchen cabinets, the dull yellow of the walls, the listened to the ringing that pressed his ears. The silence felt like death.

It would give Steve nightmares every day for a week.

It figured.

He gripped his third cup of black coffee until his knuckles were white. He was trying not to grind his teeth, but motherfucker. He felt the heat on his face and knew he'd be bright red with humiliation for probably ever.

It fucking figured. The first time since Peggy that he puts himself out there and secures a date, and she's a no-show. He'd left work early, showered and dressed up in his best shirt for that girl, and headed over to this hipsterish coffee joint only to sit in the back corner for – he checked his watch – over an hour now. He replayed their conversation in his head. Maybe he'd missed something; he'd been awfully distracted by the shiny blond hair and the legs that never seemed to end. But no – I'll be there, she'd said, then smiled at him sweetly.

His leg paused its anxious bounce for a minute - what if something had happened to her? An accident or a kidnapping or – no. No no no, Rogers. She was a doctor at a pediatric ward. She didn't get kidnapped. She'd fallen asleep, or gotten swept up in the newest season of American Horror Story, or had just decided he wasn't worth the drive. Steve needed to get better at separating his work life from everyone else's. His leg started bouncing again.

Ever since he became a SHIELD agent – and to a lesser extent, since he joined the military – he'd almost exclusively handled high-risk cases. Bombings, kidnappings, assassinations, and hostage situations were the norm; flirting on the other hand, not so much. Steve had really been trying with this Sharon girl. He held back a sigh, glaring at his coffee like it had bad-mouthed his mother. He wasn't big on self-pity, but gosh.

"Now who in their right mind would stand up a guy like you?"

Steve looked up. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard the chair scrape the floor. A man sat there, elbows on the table, smirking at him.

"What?"

The smile turned wicked. "I said you're hot. What's her name?"

Steve blinked. The man across him had messy black hair and big brown eyes that pierced somehow despite their color. A smirk, Steve noticed, looked devastatingly good on him, as if he was born to joke and mock. The name tag on his chest read Hi, my name is TONY. The barista who'd served him his three coffees – how had he not realized?

He sighed, dragging his eyes away. "Doesn't matter really."

"Doesn't matter...her name, or that you're hot? I mean, yeah, I guess both in this case, sorry about that by the way, but clarification is generally cool regardless."

Steve frowned at him. The barista'd just decided to abandon his post at the cheerfully colored counter to invade Steve's space? "Her name doesn't - I apologize, but it's not really your business."

The man only leaned forward, eyes dancing in the ambient cafe lighting like he knew some secret Steve didn't. "Oh but c'mon, it's nearly midnight and you're my only customer left, looking like someone pants'ed you and stole your lunch money. My shift doesn't end till 6am and I need something to do – I might as well try to help Tall Blonde and Handsome out of his slump."

Steve huffed, "I'm not sure you'd be able to help me."

The barista's grin turned wicked again, and he leaned forward. "That so? Five bucks says you're wrong. I'm remarkably helpful to beautiful, sculpted men. But, you know, practice makes perfect, you'd be doing me a favor if you let me help you out with whatever's eating you."

Steve's mouth did not fall open. He couldn't stop the blush heating his cheeks though - he felt it. The man's eyes pinned him down, and Steve cleared his throat.

"I don't do one-night stands, mister. Not really that kinda guy."

Brown eyes switched. Tony's face lost its suggestive smirk and danced with mirth again, and Steve reeled a little from the mental whiplash. He pointed at his chest and smiled, flashing perfect teeth. "Hey, I clearly have a name, so use that thing. Not the mister bullshit."

Steve blinked. "Tony."

Tony looked up. "Yes? And what's your name, hot stuff?"

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused by now. Probably both? "Uh - Steve. Steve Rogers."

Tony stretched his hand across the table. "Pleasure to meet you Steve."

He surprised himself by taking it. Tony's hand was warm and calloused. It slotted into his own perfectly. "Likewise."

He was more surprised when he realized he wasn't lying.

Tony was looking at him again with that spark in his eyes. His lashes were dark and thick and framed his face almost delicately. "So why plan a date this late then? Not exactly the best time for romancing in the PG way."

The corners of his mouth lifted of their own volition, and Steve thought that maybe the night wouldn't be all bad.

"I work late, and she - works at a hospital, so it works - well, should've worked, for the both of us."

Black hair fell into Tony's eyes as he cocked his head, and Tony didn't seem to notice.

"What do you do?"

Steve smiled a little. "If I tell you..."

Tony jerked back in disbelief rolling his eyes. "Oh no, do not finish that sentence, Rogers." After a minute he blinked. "Wait, are you serious."

Steve laughed. "Sort of. What about you? Graveyard shift at a cafe all you have going on?"

Years of training caught the split second hesitation, the darkening of that spark in Tony's eyes, immediately smothered with an easy grin. "Not so much, this place means free coffee and something to do for the hours I'll be awake anyway. I don't really sleep."

Steve's brows furrowed. "At all?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "I mean no, eventually I drop for a couple hours, but on a day-to-day basis I don't make a habit of it."

"Why?"

Tony shrugged, staring at a spot past Steve's shoulder. His lips twitched up. "Its a waste of time, got better things to do."

"Yeah, like what?"

Tony smirked. "Like chatting up modelesque blonde types, for starters."

Something hot pulled at Steve's gut, but at least he didn't blush this time. Tony leaned in, looking conspiratorial. "I'm not- am I misreading this? Because, Steve, sugar bear, if I am and you don't go for the male persuasion then I'll back off with the come-ons - no that's not true, I won't but I'll at least make an effort."

"I - no. You're not misinterpreting things. You do come on quite strong, though."

Tony, shrugged, but he was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Steve didn't think he'd ever seen a set of straighter teeth. "Well, no one's ever said I aim to please. I'm something of an opportunist."

Steve smiled. "So you came here, not to comfort a lonely customer who'd just gotten stood up - but purely to proposition me in the slight chance I might be less than straight?"

Tony pouted. "The way you look certainly wouldn't discourage me, so."

"I see. You're only after me for my body."

"Sure."

"So you don't really want to get to know me at all?"

"What? Where are you getting that from, Rogers. I'm a materialist, your body's also your mind and soul, and I wanna know all that shit. You, my friend, I wanna get well acquainted with."

Steve leaned forward a little, amused. "What is it you'd like to know?"

Tony smiled. "You go to college?"

"Yes, after my time in the military I spent a few years at a university studying art."

"How long were you in the military?"

"Six years."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-four"

"Does your job include art?"

He snorted. "No."

"Why the laugh?"

"Because it doesn't include art."

"Do you kill people?"

"Twice daily." That got a laugh out of Tony. Steve felt a little breathless at the sight.

"What about you? What are you like?"

Tony looked over Steve's shoulder again, fingers tapping in the table as he shrugged. "Not much to report. Went to college, got some odd jobs, kept odd hours."

"Where did you go to school?"

"MIT."

Steve blinked. "What?"

Tony looked at him. "Yeah. Graduated when I was seventeen."

"Seventeen...from MIT?" Tony nodded.

"So you've gotta be a genius then."

He smirked holding his hands up in a guilty-as-charged gesture. "Certified."

Steve whistled. "So then what, again, are you doing working here and not - I dunno - designing giant robots or something?"

Tony sighed in mock exasperation. "I already told you, I'm an insomniac."

"But - here?" He gestured around at the beige carpets, cheerful orange walls and smooth jazz crooning over the intercom. Tony shrugged.

"I like coffee."

He shook his head, staring. "You're…weird."

"I prefer eccentric, but I'll take it." He pointed at the empty cup in Steve's hands. "Want another?"

"What? Oh sure."

"On the house." Tony uncurled himself from the chair and walked back toward the counter. There was a grace in his steps, not militaristic or predatory like he was used to, and somehow more mesmerizing for it. Tony had an incredible ass.

Steve tore his eyes away and listened to the quiet bustle behind the counter. A moment later Tony pushed a steaming cup across the table.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it soldier boy. Hey, so, I've been thinking, this has been fun and you are gorgeous, whadaya think of doing this again sometime? Maybe even when the sun's out?"

Steve thought about it. "I should get off work by noon next Tuesday."

Tony beamed and a breath caught in Steve's throat. "Tuesday noon it is then. Should I pick you up?"

"You don't even know where I live." Tony's eyes sparkled.

"I'm good at finding people. Even if you didn't tell me I think I'd manage."

"That's a little creepy, Tony."

"Says the guy who kills people."

"That was a joke!"

"Sure, muscles."

Steve rolled his eyes, and pulled a napkin out of the holder. "Got a pen?"

Tony quirked and eyebrow, but got up and walked to the counter anyway. "Old fashioned much?" Steve just shrugged with a smile, accepting the pen and clicking the end of it.

"So I live in Brooklyn. Hope you don't mind the drive." He held the napkin out to him, and Tony eyed it for a second before smiling.

"Just set it down, I'll grab it. So what do you wanna do on your first date since getting stood up?"

"Way to remind me."

"Hey, I'm no one's babysitter. But seriously, what're you thinking. Lunch?"

Steve nodded. "Let's go to Central Park."

Tony leaned forward with an easy grin, resting his head on folded arms. "Ooh, should've pinned you as a romantic." Steve laughed and sort of wanted to draw him.

"I don't know about that...but I try to show my dates a good time, and I love my city." Tony's nose wrinkled theatrically.

"You one of those patriotic types?"

"Yes."

"Wow, not an ounce of remorse."

"Are you not?"

Tony smirked at him. "I doubt everything. Not good with authority."

It hit Steve hard, again, that the man across from him was hopelessly beautiful. It was in the skeptical quirk of his brows, and the intensity of his eyes. Steve didn't think he'd ever be able to look away. His voice came out softer than he'd intended.

"Oh come on, you can't doubt everything."

Tony grinned cheekily. "Sure do. With luck I might rub off in you."

He plucked the napkin that Steve hadn't handed to him, and held it up like a prize. He beamed. "I think we'll do well together, Steve."

Steve grinned, watching him.

He couldn't help but agree.

Steve, what the fuck is going on? I've called four times now. Pick up your goddamn phone. I'm getting worried.

Message deleted. Next message.

Official SHIELD voice memo: Rogers, we need you to report. I have no clue if that Stark kid is still a threat to SHIELD and when I don't know something, it's time for people to get fired. Has he been apprehended? Have this information ready for me yesterday.

Message deleted. Next message.

Steve, for fuck's sake, pick UP –

Message deleted. Next message.

Steve, its Natasha. Was Tony Stark...YOUR Tony? Did you know? I need to know if you were compromised throughout this mission.

Message deleted. Next message.

Steve. Why didn't you tell me about Tony? I'll be over at your apartment with ice cream and Jack Daniels in fifteen.

Message deleted. End of new messages.