Steve's large hand groped the air inches from Tony's head, and slammed down none too gently on the device on the bedside. Then something unexpected. Still half asleep Steve nuzzled into Tony's neck, sighing contented by the warmth that Tony was no doubt giving off. Then the pressure of soft skin, Steve's lips as he kissed the curve of Tony's neck. Tony's eyes went wide, and he swallows thickly, hesitant to interrupt whatever it was Steve thought he was doing.

But there was no way Steve knew it was another man he was kissing, right?

It seemed that Tony was right, because Steve jerked as if suddenly burned, and rolled away with eyes completely open with realised fear. "Shit." Steve says and moves quickly to lock himself in the bathroom.

It left Tony bemused. Apparently Steve found comfort in Tony's arms. Apparently the soldier swore when he was at a loss. Apparently Steve the big butch golden boy liked to cuddle. Tony finds himself smiling, then laughing. Then finally he lets his laughter take over, a hand to his forehead as he shuts his eyes and listens to the way his throat expels the sound of his chuckles.

Steve, a closeted homosexual? Oh God. It was too beautiful to even know where to begin with it. Should he ask who turned him? Should Tony try and seduce him? Another wave of loud laughter. He wanted to have so much fun with this. At Steve's expense, naturally. No wonder he never changed the tights for something less revealing.

Tony was willing to bet his company that Steve was unaware of how much of a fuck nobody gave about being gay nowadays. Sure there were still a few morons here and there that didn't understand sexuality, but nobody on the team would dare to call Steve a fruit. He was calculating that Steve was a wreck behind that bathroom door, trying to figure out how to stop Tony from pulling him out of the proverbial closet.

Tony rolls out of his side of the bed, his feet heavy on the floor as his body was still asleep. He stretches up as he calms down and lightly knocks on the door of the bathroom. Steve answers and Tony just gives him a devilish grin. "So..." He says before Steve shuts the door again, and he can hear the poor blonde moaning before he opens the door again.

"I thought you were a woman." He says quickly and Tony just bursts out laughing again.

"Please, I know I smell nice but I'm not wearing perfume, or a dress." He grins, and puts his hand in the door frame, knowing Steve wouldn't dare close up again for fear of harming the man. "You do realise I don't care. In fact, I'm kinda flattered." He tries to coax Steve out a little bit at a time. The soldier opens the door up fully but those eyes of his were practically begging.

"I think you need to catch up on a few social evolutions." Tony says simply, and to emphasize his point he pulls up on the balls of his feet and gives Steve a quick peck to his lips. "I'm completely comfortable in my sexuality to do more than just kiss you." He shrugs and backs off of the door, arms folding to protect his arc should Steve choose to shove him back. "Clearly you've never experimented in college."

Steve stays silent the entire time, and wipes his mouth after Tony's lips had been on his own. He knows that he must have that lost look on his face, the one a lot of people had interpreted as an invitation to start a conversation with him in a bid to make him feel more comfortable. "No really, I thought you were somebody else." Steve continues, and his eyes do seem to be looking at Tony, but seeing right past him.

Tony's eyes darken and he makes a little noise of frustration, having this horrible feeling he knew the name of the person Steve meant. He wasn't laughing now. "Who?" He asks, but he's also demanding. He draws himself up, fist already clenched to strike.

Steve looks sadly at the man, and sighs deeply. "You don't have to ask." He says, and this time his voice is far smaller.

"Say it." Tony demands, because a few stories his father told him about how great Captain America was did seem a little too rose tinted for Tony. He wasn't going to buy the pack of lies his father had said when he promised he hadn't loved Steve more than he'd loved Maria.

"... Please Tony, don't- "

"Fucking say it."

"I thought you were Howard." Steve admits with a miserable tone, breath baited as he waited for the lava bubbling under Tony's skin to erupt.

The genius did want to lash out, but Steve wasn't really awake when he cuddled up to Tony. Steve wasn't even trying to get Tony into his bed, nor did the blonde ask for Tony to join him last night. This was merely the effect of the cause.

Tony gives a reserved sigh. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." He steps back until he's in the space to flop back on Steve's bed, hands coming up as a pillow. "I don't think I'm ever going to get out of that guys shadow." He growls a low and long frustrated sound that started in his chest and came out in the exhale.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Steve says quietly still hiding near the safety of the bathroom door. "I wasn't," he sighs. "I wasn't thinking." He steps out from the tiled floor to the carpeted bedroom, feet padding softly as he takes a few tentative steps forward.

"No, I know." Tony shrugs, trying to act distant of the problem. "But you fucked my dad." He adds with a little venom.

Steve flinches. The very expression hurt the blonde's ears. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't?"

"Nope."

"Well I didn't."

Tony didn't want to acknowledge it, but Steve wasn't the type to lie. Tony thought Steve wasn't the type to go for men either, but hell, he'd been wrong about practically every single thing that made up Steven G. Rogers.

"Then explain that little number in the bed, Casanova. Actually don't. Let me wake up first." Tony pulls himself from the mattress and yawns, walking out of the room with Steve close behind.

Steve really didn't have to explain anything. Tony could take a guess that if they'd been that close, but hadn't in fact been sexual, that it might have been a cold night. They might have been close to the edge of something depressing. They might have needed to simply hold each other after the loss of a mutual friend. The possibilities were endless really. War made people desperate, and Tony would've been stripped of his genius title if he didn't acknowledge the fact that his father was just as much of a playboy in his youth as Tony was today. Still, nobody wanted to imagine their parents fucking their best friend.

After taking a long sip of some scalding coffee, Tony was ready to sit and listen. At first Steve sat there looking like an oversized awkward teenager caught out by his parents after a night of under-aged partying. But then he took a breath, the start of his story on the tip of his tongue.

"Just after I got this body, there was a chaotic chase. Everything was blurred and sudden, I had no idea that the procedure had even worked until I was standing over a dead HYDRA agent." His eyes cast back, as to him it was almost a different time-line in comparison to the adventures he was having now. "I got back, and Howard offered to help me figure out my side effects without detaining me in a lab."

Tony nodded, and brought up a file on Captain America. Steve took it after some practise with the holographic screens and pointed to a few of the things Howard had managed to help him find out. "He was close, I was a mess." Steve looks at the table rather than the screen, because he could see the perplexed and disgusted look on Tony's face through the transparent database. "I don't even remember who made the first move." He adds quietly. Tony understood the sensation of how his father used to be, the curiosity, and the excitement of a project. Because that's what Howard must've thought, that same psycho-sexual thrill of inventing. The ego stroking, the excitement waiting to see if what he'd made worked. Steve probably never realised Howard's mechanical-like mind from his naively human point-of-view.

"But we stopped mutually. I told him I didn't want to do what he was suggesting, but I was grateful that he was willing to-" Steve stops, his own words almost too horrific for him to say aloud.

"Lend a hand?" Tony smirks, he could practically see the glint of lust in his father's eyes, and in many ways, it wasn't unlike Tony to get that same expression whenever he caught sight of Steve working out. Steve didn't like how Tony had worded it, but he laughed anyway. He then nods, and swipes the file away.

"Point being, I didn't... Do what you think I did with him." Steve clamps up, because Bruce comes into the room, looking at the two men at the breakfast counter.

"Do what?" Bruce asks, hands reaching out to make a pot of coffee.

"I thought Steve killed a guy. One of his old movie reels said our golden boy broke a Nazi's neck because he was batting for Hitler when we were winning. Turns out it was less a documentary and more American propaganda." Tony lies expertly, and Steve shoots him a grateful look from behind the rim of his own mug.

"Well everyone wanted to believe that Cap could save us from the Nazi's back when it was all going on." Bruce agrees with his back turned, and Steve's chest puffed out with his swelling of pride.

"Just trying to do something for the country." He says humbly, and sips at his coffee with a dumb looking smile on his face.

Tony felt himself get another wave of endearment. Even though Steve had gotten close to his father. Even though he hated the fact that those two got on so well together. By all rights Tony didn't want to feel anything about Steve, but it kept coming. Then eventually he figures out how to ask his burning question.

"Well, so long as that guy wasn't a stunt double?" Tony keeps his eyes trained on Steve as he holds the stare, begging for Steve to get what he was referring to.

Steve seemed to understand what Tony was asking and met his eyes without faltering. "He wasn't."

Tony's heart soared. Steve wasn't using Tony as a replacement for his dad. He nodded and went back to his own mug as Bruce turned around to give a puzzled look. Tony swings a chair over for his science pal and pulls up the morning headlines for everyone to read. Steve had put him in a odd mood, so he leaves straight after he drains his mug and idles away a few hours in his workshop.