Author's Note: Second part up, newer better and easier to read! Thanks to my beta who's been a busy bee. Awesome work ravingbeauty!
Remember Me
Part 2:
Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many, to so few.
– Winston Churchill
It still felt like some dream. Standing in the bright morning sun, Steve squared his narrow chest, straightening as tall as his curved spine would allow, trying to ignore that the men to his right and left towered above his slight frame.
"Gentlemen," a woman in uniform approached, her red lips a striking contrast to her neat appearance. Pretty girl, Steve thought idly, watching as she clocked one of the mouthier recruits. Grinning as the bully was flattened, he stood up straight in formation; tough girl.
"Breaking in the new recruits, I see," a new voice called as a jeep skidded to a halt before them. Several figures disembarked, one of which Steve was very surprised to find he recognized.
Eyes widening, he focused on the sinewy figure. The Colonel was speaking, but Steve wasn't listening – he was watching Tony. His uniform looked faded and well-worn, sleeves rolled to his elbows in the heat. He didn't look like any of the other soldiers Steve had seen running around, uniforms neatly done up and pressed.
"Lieutenant Stark, here, will be joining you," the Colonel continued. "Try to keep up."
Steve frowned. Did he say Lieutenant Stark? The man in question was moving down the line then, glancing them over, pausing here and there. His face was expressionless, that wicked scar along his cheek adding to his fearsome countenance. Lieutenant Stark did not look like someone to be trifled with.
Steve caught his eye and, for the briefest of moments, he thought the man's mouth might have twitched.
"Ragged-looking lot, Colonel," Stark commented, tugging a smoke out of his pocket and lighting up.
The older man snorted, "Let's whip them into shape."
Steve was dragging already and the others were not going easy on him.
Tony watched it all, face impassive, though it was rather painful to witness. Ninety pounds soaking wet, Steve Rogers was not physically meant for the army – but he had determination.
He watched as one of the others pushed Steve on the rope climb, sending him tumbling down for about the third time. Unable to help himself, Tony stubbed out his current cigarette. Lean limbs moving quickly, he climbed up the rope faster than any of the others.
Reaching the top, Tony grabbed the perpetrator by the neck. Out of earshot of Steve, who was lying wheezing on the ground below, he hissed, "When you treat the men at your back as your enemy, you won't live through day one." The recruit looked frightened, as he damn well should. It didn't matter if a man in your unit was ninety pounds or one hundred and ninety – he was your brother.
Releasing him, Tony looped the rope around his leg and dropped gracefully to the ground, not even winded. He paused beside the still prone man, lighting another smoke.
"I can look after myself," Steve panted, glaring up into dark eyes.
"I know you can, but it never hurts to have someone in your corner," Tony replied softly, shoving hands in his pockets as he walked towards Agent Carter.
-#-
Steve lay in his cot that night, body aching. He'd been in camp one day; he should be sleeping, dead to the world from exhaustion. His mind wouldn't settle, though, whether from nerves or fear. Wincing he slowly, silently, slipped out of bed; a trip to the bathroom and then he'd sleep, he promised weak legs.
Clad in no more than a white t-shirt and sweat pants, he exited the barracks. The night was chilly making him shiver, dog tags clinking softly.
"Running off already?" an amused voice to his right startled him.
Steve nearly came out of his skin. Wheezing, he clutched his chest as he turned to look at the solemn face of Lieutenant Stark. The man sat with his back against the barracks, face illuminated by the burning glow of his cigarette. "No, I was just going…" Steve sighed.
Tony patted the ground beside him and the skinny blond sat heavily. "I don't sleep much either," the officer confided, staring up at the clear night sky. "Too quiet here. I need mortar fire and tank rounds." The blond shook his head, saying nothing for a long time.
"I did terrible today, didn't I?" he asked. Tony shrugged noncommittally. Steve sighed heavily, heart dropping; they were going to kick him out before the week's end.
"I don't think the measure of a man comes from the size of his muscles," the combat soldier said softly.
Steve looked at him, smiling a little, "You really think so?"
Nodding, Tony stubbed out his butt, resting his hands on his knees as they sat in companionable silence.
Finally, Tony moved; standing slowly, stiffly, he held out a hand to help the small man up. "You need sleep. Tomorrow we do it all over again," he said. Nodding, the younger man held the warm, callused palm a little longer than necessary. "Don't give up," Tony said softly before he was off.
Steve frowned, confused; he felt warm and fluttery, but that wasn't right, was it?
-#-
It became their evening ritual; every night Steve would creep out of the barracks to find the man sitting outside the door or somewhere nearby.
Sometimes they would sit and enjoy the night; others, they would talk quietly. Steve learned that Tony had been in the first wave of Operation Torch in North Africa, among the first to put boots to ground in the European Theatre. He also learned why the man was here and not there – he'd been grievously wounded in Italy. Barely surviving, he had been shipped home to recuperate.
Tony, in turn, learned about the skinny kid from Brooklyn with no family, few friends, and more courage than anyone he'd ever seen.
As they sat together on that fourth night, there was a tension between them, thick and heavy. Tomorrow they would decide and Steve would either be given a chance or sent packing.
He could feel his heart thump painfully in his chest, unsure whether it was from the looming decision or from proximity to Tony. The more time he spent with this man, the stranger he felt. All the times Bucky had dragged him around with dames, he had never felt the way he did when he was with Tony. His new emotions made him nervous and unsure as he struggled to come to terms with what was happening.
Steve glanced at the man sitting beside him, wondering not for the first time what it'd be like to kiss those lips, to run a finger across that scar, to see the scars hidden by his uniform. A sudden compulsion to climb into Tony's lap and give into those desires possessed him, but he fought it. Men weren't supposed to like other men.
Pushing his thoughts away, Steve cleared his throat, "Been meaning to ask, you any relation to Howard Stark?"
Chuckling, the other man looked up at the sky, "He's my older brother by a year or so."
Steve nodded, surprised. Tony looked older than Howard, but then again, war seemed to age men before their time. He rarely smiled, this man, face solemn and serious. Watching him, Steve slipped a little in his resolution.
The night was still and quiet; brown eyes closed peacefully only to snap open when a hand touched his face, tracing the scar stretching across his cheek.
"I'm-I-I'm…" Steve stuttered, attempting to apologize. What had possessed him to give into that compulsion? He'd just thought Tony looked quite handsome in the moonlight and the next thing…
"It's ok," Tony said softly. He turned to Steve, trying to quiet his own pounding heart, wondering if perhaps this crush he had wasn't so futile after all. Slowly, giving the smaller man time to pull away, Tony leaned forward, pressing his chapped lips to Steve's own.
Blue eyes wide, Steve stunned, didn't respond to the short, chaste kiss.
Though it was as if the man had been reading his mind, Tony had caught him completely off guard – his first kiss with a man… his first kiss with anyone, for that matter. Steve felt like he should be angry or sickened, like everyone said… but he wasn't. As a matter of fact, he wanted to do it again.
Confused and scared, he stood quickly and took off back to the barracks, not looking back.
Tony watched him go, heart sinking low in his chest. "That went well," he sighed, running a hand through dark locks. He pulled out another smoke, lighting up as he exhaled wearily. Maybe he'd misread the situation yet again.
Tony gave himself a self-deprecating smile; he'd known from the start he wasn't like other boys. Sure, he'd played along in high school, pretending to like girls, taking them out, having a girlfriend. Girls, though, had done nothing for him; his preference was men – a secret he guarded zealously. And now he'd gone and messed up the closest thing he'd had to a relationship.
He rested his head on his raised knees. Closing tired eyes, he sighed; well, after tomorrow he'd probably never see Steve again anyway.
-#-
"I can't believe you, doctor," Colonel Phillips griped. "When you wanted to bring a ninety-pound asthmatic onto my base, I let it slide. Thought he'd be some kind of gerbil for you. I didn't think you'd actually consider him."
The doctor snorted, "He is the clear choice."
Tony leaned against the truck, listening to the men argue. Watching Peggy run the recruits through calisthenics. "He has my vote as well," Tony said, watching the blond struggle through push-ups, followed by what was, without a doubt, the most pathetic attempt at a jumping jack he'd ever seen.
"He's making me cry, Doc. Look at him. You stick a needle in him it's going to go right through his arm," the Colonel continued. Tony chuckled; it was probably true. "Why not Hodge? He's big, he's tough, he follows orders…"
Doctor Erskine frowned, "He's a bully… I'm not looking at the physical, Colonel."
Tony exhaled a cloud of smoke, "I've had the privilege of leading men in two campaigns, Colonel… I'd rather lead a group of Rogers than Hodges."
Phillips said nothing for a moment. "It's about courage," he growled abruptly. Grabbing a dummy grenade, he popped the pin and tossed it into the middle of the men. "Grenade!" he yelled, watching the men scatter for cover.
All but one, that is.
Without thought, Steve threw himself atop the munitions, yelling for the others to get away.
The Colonel looked pissed, Doc looked pleased, and Tony was doing something he rarely did – he was smiling.
"Is this a test?" the confused blond asked, looking from Agent Carter to the three men. As Colonel Phillips turned away with a grunt, Tony caught Steve's blue eyes and gave the small man a wink. As Tony turned to follow the Colonel, he wondered if the sudden flush on Steve's face had to do with the embarrassment of jumping on a dummy grenade or his wink.
-#-
Just like that, the decision had been made, all the men dispersed to their new units save one.
Steve sat alone with his thoughts in the now empty barracks; the Doc had come to see him earlier, trying to be reassuring. Now though, alone with his thoughts, he mulled over tomorrow. No one knew how or even if this was going to work, or whether he'd survive it. He looked down at hands that trembled slightly; there was a serious chance he'd die tomorrow.
A soft knock at the door drew his attention. He looked up as a familiar, dark head poked around the door.
"Steve," Tony called as he spotted the man sitting on his cot, looking pensive and drawn.
"Tony," the small man breathed, smiling.
Tony entered the empty room, coming to sit across from the skinny man on an empty cot. "How you feeling?" he asked.
Steve shrugged. "Scared, I guess… I may not survive this," he said quietly.
Tony cocked his head to the side, scar pulling as he smiled, "I tell myself that all the time."
As the moments crept by, the silence grew tense and heavy with things left unsaid.
Lieutenant Tony Stark, who could storm a German machine gun nest, was afraid to tell this small, unassuming man that he was head over heels for him. Steve haunted both his dreams and his waking moments; he wanted him like nothing he'd ever wanted before.
"I… I umm…" Tony drew a breath and exhaled sharply, "I'm leaving tomorrow." The blond head snapped up as Steve stared at him intently. "I ship out first thing in the morning… I'm going back to the line, Steve," Tony said softly. "Back to my men." A sudden panic welled up in Steve, he didn't want Tony to go… he didn't want to lose him, he hadn't thought for a moment they were going to be separated. "I was commissioned to help choose the right man for the job, and I did."
Steve's blue eyes were too big for that pale, narrow face. Adrenaline pounding now, he acted on instinct. Without stopping to consider the consequences, he was in Tony's lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, mashing their lips together so hard their teeth clacked.
Surprised, Tony blinked, hesitating a bare second before he wrapped his strong arms around the thin figure. Returning the fervent kiss. Neither stopped to consider what would come after; they just knew that now, tonight, they needed each other.
Steve, who had never been kissed until Tony, was learning fast as Tony plundered his mouth. The taller man tasted of tobacco and toothpaste – an odd combination, Steve thought in passing.
Tony began moving, his hands hesitantly running across Steve's white cotton shirt, sliding under the hem to touch that pale, slender frame. Following Tony's lead, Steve returned the favor, running hands under the other's t-shirt, as the kiss grew heated and intense.
Parting, they rested their heads together for a moment, breathing hard. Tony tugged his shirt off first. Steve was about to do the same, paused when he saw the scars marring the well-muscled form. Three round, puckered wounds – bullet holes – and long scars on his arms and torso. "Tony," he whispered, touching the too shiny skin, feeling the other man shiver and shudder.
Then long arms reached out, tugging off Steve's shirt; naked skin pressed together, warm and alive. Steve wrapped thin legs around Tony's waist, gasping when he felt something hard pressing back against him. Once again acting on instinct, he arched against the other man, grinding their hips together, gasping as the delicious friction rippled through him.
Tony held firm to narrow hips as they moved together – both inexperienced, but enthusiastic. It was Steve who came first. Overwhelmed with new feelings, he ground against Tony once more before giving a small cry, feeling a warm wetness spread across his boxers. Tony, spurred on by the small man's erratic movements, found his release soon after, the front of his trousers soaking through.
Tony gathered Steve close as the other man collapsed against him. Holding on tightly, Steve closed his eyes and pressed his face to Tony's warm neck. For a few moments they only breathed chests heaving with emotion. The silence stretched on until finally Steve pulled back, eyes wide and sad.
"I'll write you," Tony promised with a soft smile, kissing Steve's swollen lips again… wanting to promise him that everything would be alright. "We'll see each other again," he said in a whisper.
Steve nodded slowly. "I'll write you, too," he promised.
Tony brushed back blond hair, "I'd better let you get some sleep, big day tomorrow." Steve nodded with a half smile.
Disentangling, they shrugged back into their shirts, unable to keep from kissing several more times. They eventually parted, hands slow to let go. There was nothing more they could say, no promises of forever to be made, no declarations of love and devotion… They were two men in a war; each had a duty and there was no guarantee of tomorrow for either of them.
Steve watched, heart heavy, as the rugged form disappeared into the darkness, feeling suddenly and acutely alone. He changed his boxer shorts before climbing back into bed. His mind a mess – his head was telling him he shouldn't fall in love with a man… with Tony, but his heart was telling him he already had.
