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Chapter Three: As Time Goes By

"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again."

― Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Screenplay

Life started to settle down after that first day at the docks. Of course, it took some time to get everything set- like the vacant room across the hall.

Upon being shown it, Tony had scoffed at the forty dollar rent price. It was as bad as Steve and Bucky's place, just dustier and devoid of furniture. "Seriously, forty dollars? This place is worth thirty, if that," he told the crook of a landlady.

The woman blinked and stammered, obviously surprised at someone actually coming out and telling it to her face. "It isn't up for debate," she finally said, almost firmly.

What followed was a blackmailing that went down in neighborhood history. None of it could be overheard, the landlady was too sly for that, but there was no other possible reason that Steve and Bucky's rent could have gone down a whole fifteen dollars. From the whispers of the neighbors, theirs all went down substantial amounts as well.

After that, there was a whole lot of remodeling. Except for Steve and Bucky's room, and Tony's, every unit in the building had repairmen in and out of it at least once- usually five or six times- in March alone. It made life much easier for everyone, left them happier and further from the edge of starvation.

Bucky and Steve were actually able to keep food in the cupboards, and even afford medication when it was called for. It felt like a miracle.

Just for getting their rent reduced, Tony was secretly called a hero. More often than not his door was knocked on when he got home and a pie, or loaf of bread, or plate of dinner, was forced on him by grateful neighbors. Except for when an Arab lady gifted him with several meat and vegetable wraps she called shawarma, he would always knock on the door across the hall and insist that Steve and Bucky share in the spoils.

When the repairs started getting done, he became the darling of the whole building. It soon became clear that Steve and Bucky's apartment was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to nonfunctional appliances. The repairmen were disgusted by the inadequacy of what they were seeing. Only then did everyone seem to realize just how bad things really were.

Three months later Tony still barely needed to buy groceries, he was so often plied with edibles by the neighbors. More often than not those ended up in Bucky's stomach, and when Steve was within sight, in his. Except for that shawarma, over which Tony threatened to burn Bucky alive when he looked at it too long. He was absurdly protective over that particular dish.

That being said, Steve was sometimes allowed a little. There was never much of it, so he never got his own wrap, but just a few bites off of a shared wrap meant more than the most ardent declarations of friendship with Tony. It was a strange and dubious honor.

It had become Tony's mission to feed Steve whenever he wasn't at work, and the still-skinny blonde wasn't arguing. This was more than he'd had available to eat in any other part of his life. One of the better results was that he wasn't sick as often, even if it didn't solve the bigger problems.

When asked why he did that, Tony had shrugged uncomfortably. "When I have a problem, I throw money at it to make it go away," he explained from the other side of his kitchen (work) table, never taking his eyes from the tiny thing he was tinkering with, "The problem is you being too sick and skinny. The solution is obviously making you take your medicine and eat, so I have Bucky bully you into taking your meds, and I feed you. Simple. Hand me the tiny Phillips."

Warm and fuzzy inside, Steve let the topic drop. It was enough that he had another friend who cared about him. Not to mention trusted him with a spare key, the responsibility of picking up his mail, and knowing where he keeps the emergency stash of money.

For all their friendship had progressed, Steve still felt his heart rate pick up whenever Tony entered a room. There was something about his too-clever eyes, the sparkle of his real smile, the confidence that choked the air around him. No matter how careful he was to keep it to himself, he was falling head over heels for Tony Stark and he knew it.

Though maybe he wasn't the only one, no matter how wrong it was. Sometimes Tony would ghost a hand over Steve's lower back when passing in the tight space of a kitchen, give him a glance far too heated to be friendly when the man thought he wasn't looking, look him dead in the eyes over the shoulder of any girl he was dancing with. It was all so intense, whatever this unspoken and unconfirmed thing was.

It wasn't until June 14th, on the way back from that disastrous movie viewing, that Bucky made a mention of it. No matter how often he contemplatively glanced from one of them to the other, only to cover it up with a terrible joke. "C'mon, I thought you were trying to keep your pretty face now that Tony's in the picture," he teased, an arm thrown over Steve's skinny shoulders as always.

For the first time, Steve froze uncomfortably under the playful gaze of his best friend. It was something that he had been struggling to admit even to himself, and here Bucky was speaking of it in a back alley right after a fight that had left Steve with a bloody nose. His sense of timing was deplorable.

"You mean you… know?" Steve questioned hesitantly, barely daring to whisper.

Bucky snorted and the look he gave the shorter man made him blush. "I think the whole building knows, Stevie," he answered dryly, "This morning the blind lady downstairs was betting money on you guys getting together by the end of the month."

Steve choked on his own spit. "There's a betting pool?" he demanded, mortified.

The grin Bucky gave him wasn't reassuring. "I put down three bucks on you getting your act together the day the army accepts you," he said cheerfully.

That was code for "never", and Steve wasn't sure which part he resented more: the implication that he would never succeed in enlisting, or the assurance that he would never get up the guts to do anything about Tony. All he could do was scowl up at Bucky.

The smirk Bucky wore dared him to contest that. They walked across a street then, and they separated with a playful shove and growl. They got mistaken for being together-together enough as is.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked. This wasn't the way to the flat.

"We have a double date," Bucky replied far too cheerfully.

Steve rolled his eyes, sure that this was just Bucky trying to win the betting pool. "What did you tell her about me?" he asked, resigned to another boring evening of being ignored in favor of his best friend.

"I didn't have to say anything," Bucky said mysteriously.

For the last minute or so of the walk there, Steve trying to at least clean up his nose, he was confused. He didn't know any girls besides Bucky's sister, and that would never happen even if he did want it to. Which thank God he didn't. So what was going on here?

At the entrance of the World Expo of Tomorrow, that question was answered without doubt: Tony was talking to a short pretty girl, charming smile in place. It was obvious that she was taken with him, leaning forward and bright eyed. It made something in Steve's gut shrivel up.

"Hey, no stealing my date, Tony," Bucky reprimanded him with a grin. He put an arm around the girl's shoulders and began steering her away.

"Didn't want your girl to feel neglected while you were busy rescuing Steve," Tony replied suavely, winking at the blonde as if to say, "No hard feelings." As Bucky led the way into the Expo, hurriedly introducing everyone on the way, Tony walked very closely alongside Steve and utterly ignored the other two.

Steve was somewhere between flabbergasted and exasperated. Did Bucky intend to out him to the object of his affections? And lose any stakes in the betting pool as he did? The man was insane.

Not that he was objecting, really. Throughout the night Tony was just like always, laughing to himself and commenting snarkily and making references no one else understood, only more physical. He was always within arm's reach, usually close enough to feel his body heat. Once or twice their hands brushed together, and it sent Steve's faulty heart into a samba every time.

When they all stopped to witness Howard Stark's flying car, Bucky called over his shoulder, "You guys related?" His voice said he was pulling Tony's leg, even if his face was truly curious.

When he looked, Steve saw startling similarities. The same brown hair, although styled completely differently, similar facial structures and a shared thing for artful facial hair were the tip of the iceberg. Both were short for men (though still several inches taller than Steve), had sort of Italian coloring, and the charisma that they radiated nearly choked the air around them, drawing everyone in sight. They even had the same surname! The only significant difference that Steve could detect was that whatever Howard Stark was, Tony Stark was… more. More beautiful, more compelling, more everything.

As Tony looked at the stage, his eyes were frozen. The nod that he answered with was accompanied by a bitter twist of his lips. "Not that he'll acknowledge it," he mumbled barely loud enough to hear.

There was a whole story behind that sentence, Steve knew it like he knew Tony loved shawarma. Instead of prying, he allowed himself to be distracted.

"The propulsion system is flawed," Tony said gleefully in his ear, "That car'll crash down in a few seconds." He then went on to ramble about exactly what was wrong with it, just that he could see and hear, and not notice Steve shiver.

Indeed, the car did crash. The coverup of, "I did say within a few years, didn't I?" was graceful and humorous over the applause.

It was around then that Steve excused himself to the restroom. On the way back he saw a recruitment tent, and teetered on the edge of going in. His stubbornness won out over his desire to please, and he went in.

That was where Tony found him not a few minutes later, staring at the posters. "You gonna try again?" the older man asked softly.

"I can't give up," Steve protested. Something inside of him died a little more whenever he imagined it. That wasn't who he was.

"I'm not asking you to. Whether it's attempt number six or six million, you'll keep going until they accept you. But just think, they might actually do it," Tony warned.

It didn't sound like such a bad consequence to Steve. That was what he wanted, after all, to go to war.

When he told Tony this, the sad smile the man gave him was like the one Dorothy gave all the wonderful folks she had met in Oz. Like they were never going to see each other again. "I think that if anyone can make it, it's you," he said, and turned around to leave. "Come find me at the food court after you're done in here."

Determination flared up in Steve again. Maybe it would happen on this try, lucky number six.

When they got home Steve finally took the enlistment documents out of his breast pocket to show Bucky that yes, he finally made it. But the other man was already asleep on his side of the bed, snoring like a chainsaw without having even taken off his boots. It had been a long night for everyone, ending at nearly midnight.

To keep war business out of a date, Steve hadn't said anything about it to Tony while they were out. Now he sneaked out of his own studio and knocked on the door of the one across the hall. He knew he wouldn't be a disturbance, Tony never slept.

The door was opened and he was let in, given a fresh cup of chamomile tea. "So what was the verdict?" Tony asked, though his face said he already knew the answer.

It was a pleasure to show off the A-1 on his paperwork. Take that!

There was no surprise, just hope and sadness mixed together. It wasn't the reaction Steve was expecting. "I told you they might take you," Tony said, his words attempting a tease that his tone didn't support.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not if it led to a fight like those Bucky used to have with him.

Tony had never gotten into those though, stubbornly clammed up when either of them demanded support for their argument. It had looked painful. This time was no different. "I, uh, knew you were going to get in this time, so I…" Rather than use his words, he spread out a familiar set of paperwork on the table. A-1 was stamped on these, with 'Engineering Corps' written out under it.

The breath caught in Steve's throat as he stared at the papers in front of him. "Why did you…?" He trailed off, looking up into Tony's dark eyes. The other man had mentioned before that it would be smarter to be a contractor working for the army than actually in it, and with a bark of self-deprecating laughter said that it was what he would do if he had to get involved.

"That's where you're going, into the army, so that's where I'm going," Tony declared intensely, "You may not be one yet, but I'll follow my captain to hell and back."

Steve wanted to cry. If only he was going into regular service! "I don't think you can follow me where I'm going, Tony," he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

"Normally, no. But I'm Tony Stark and I can do anything. Of course I'm going to Camp Leigh with you tomorrow," Tony boasted stubbornly.

There was a moment where Steve wasn't sure he heard right. When he knew he did, he felt his heart beat and stutter at double speed. This had to be a dream, a wonderful dream that he would wake from face down on Tony's work table without the man having even noticed.

"Listen, you're the most impor- I'm not letting you get away from me that easily," Tony said, switching his sentence as soon as he realized what he was about to say, "You're stuck with me, Cap."

The words brought back a night three months ago, the night before he met Tony. "You just reminded me of something strange I saw the night before we met," Steve said, temporarily ignoring the new nickname otherwise. He'd correct it later.

"Oh?" Tony asked, eyebrow quirked.

"There was this robot fighting a man with a metal arm, accused him of trying to kill somebody he called 'Cap' and then the one with the metal arm just kinda… disappeared. And the robot was called Iron Man, of all things," Steve relayed, chuckling over the insanity of that night. It had been one of the strangest nights of his life.

When he looked up, he saw that Tony's eyes had gone blank. "That is strange, isn't it?" he mused. "Did you ever see either of them again?"

It felt like a test, just like when the doctor asked if he wanted to kill Nazis. "If I had, I'd remember it," Steve assured him with a smile.

This time when Tony looked at him, it was with fond amusement. He reached across the table with scarred and grease stained hands, and clasped them around Steve's pale, charcoal smudged ones. It felt much more intimate than it really was, those calloused fingers running over and between his own soft ones.

"Tony?" Steve prompted.

"Want to help Bucky win that bet?" Tony asked mischievously.

Steve's heart plummeted. "But he said that-" He cut himself off, chest suddenly tight as he processed the exact words his friend had said. "That's brilliant."

It was, it really was. Bucky had said it meaning that they would never get together, but his actual wording exactly described tonight- maybe. If they only managed to get it together before the night was up.

"But, are we serious about this?" Tony asked, his dark eyes baring his every emotion for once, "I know I am. I have been since… Fuck if I know." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and put a hand through his already messy hair. His hand was shaking slightly.

"Yes," Steve blurted out. It was everything he had wanted for weeks upon weeks, handed to him on a silver platter. There was no way he was letting this pass him by.

Tony blinked, went still. "Really?" he asked in a mildly interested tone, as if he was asking about the score of last night's game.

"You don't treat me like I'm made of glass," Steve explained slowly, trying to piece it together himself, "You actually see me and respect me. And I like you. A lot." He smiled bashfully across the table.

Tony's returned smile was a tender thing. "Then I'm serious too, until you have to find yourself a girl so you don't get your ass kicked back out of the army," he said. The bark of laughter he gave was joyous like never before.

It was hard to keep from laughing with him. No matter the recent improvements, the walls were still paper thin. "So we're… together?" Steve could barely dare believe it. Life never went this well for him.

"Yeah." The same sort of disbelieving look was on Tony's face. It was like he had wanted this for forever but had never hoped it would happen.

Suddenly, Steve wondered if maybe… just maybe… he had. Like he himself had since he woke up from that fever and saw Tony there. The thought made him let out a nervous, charmed giggle.

"So, how do we get the news out without getting arrested?" Tony asked cheerfully.

The thought was sobering. "Maybe in the morning chat very loudly about how we got into the army," Steve pondered, "and then… I don't know." He shrugged, feeling strangely intimidated at the thought of announcing a relationship. It wasn't like he had any experience.

"We'll figure it out," Tony assured him, apparently unworried about it.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, a yawn escaped Steve. He felt his ears heat up. "Better get going, big day tomorrow," he said, running his hand through his hair self-consciously. They were supposed to ship out to Camp Leigh the next day.

For once, Tony agreed. "Yeah, sleep would be a good idea." He made a face at the idea.

It made Steve smile fondly as he took the few steps to the door. "Hey Tony?" he said quietly. The mere thought of saying this made his stomach knot up.

"Hm?" Tony eyed him curiously even as he got up from his chair. His back cracked loudly and he winced and rubbed it.

"I know you didn't want to, so thank you for signing up. It seems a lot more bearable now that I'll know somebody there," Steve told his new… boyfriend(?) honestly. No matter how excited he was by the thought of getting to serve his country, not knowing what was going to happen… The concept that he would be asked to kill other people was in itself terrifying.

Tony's smile was tender as he leaned on the wall beside the door. "Like I said before, I'd follow you anywhere," he reiterated.

The small space between them buzzed with electricity, urged Steve to do something he had actively tried not to until tonight… He decided that it was time to be brave again. It was only two small steps to put himself in Tony's personal space, close enough to smell his aftershave, and he licked his suddenly dry lips.

Slowly, Tony lowered his face even as he tilted Steve's up. Briefly he paused and Steve could feel the other man's shallow breaths on his lips.

Another surge of courage hit him and Steve closed the distance. Lightning blasted through his nervous system, sending his whole body tingly as he pressed his lips to the chapped ones that he had stared at far too often for his own safety. They felt just like he imagined, rough skin over soft flesh. When Tony moved his lips slightly, Steve tried not to smile and instead met his movement.

The kiss stayed soft and chaste, but it still took the breath from Steve's lungs like three flights of stairs. When they had to break apart, he licked his lips and tasted the cotton candy that Tony had managed to eat a whole bag of.

The older man groaned and closed his eyes. "Don't tease me like that," he complained, "I'm trying to be a gentleman here."

Steve snorted, because when had Tony ever been a gentleman?

The door was opened and he was shooed out with a manic grin and a hard, searing kiss that made his heart pound. When the door closed, Steve briefly wondered if he really wanted sleep after all.

There was a gasp from beside him, and when he looked it was Miss Rumble who lived next door to him. Her protuberant blue eyes went from him to Tony's door and back again, mouth gaping unattractively in shock.

A nervous chuckle left Steve's mouth and he tapped his heel on the floor. Then an idea struck him and a grin stretched his face. "Hello, Miss Rumble," he said politely, "Would it be possible for you to watch our apartments while we're gone? I got into the army. And this idiot followed." He jerked his head at Tony's door.

For a brief moment Miss Rumble simply stared, but shook herself and giggled. "No, not at all," she replied in a rolling Scottish burr, "Congratulations, Steve." The wrinkles around her eyes crinkled like tissue paper when she smiled.

"Thank you and goodnight," Steve said, crossing the narrow hall and opening his own door. The creak made him wince, as always, but he was able to lean on the door once it was closed and stifle his chuckles. Oh, that was perfect timing. And a genius move, if he said so himself.

When he looked, Bucky hadn't moved an inch. Which wasn't a bad thing, because it left just enough room on the bed for Steve to slide in once he changed clothes. He still had to elbow his friend in the side to get any covers.

"Night Stevie," Bucky mumbled in his sleep. He let out a snore the second after.

"Good night Bucky," Steve returned. His cheeks hurt with the force of his smile as he came to the conclusion that yes, it was a good night indeed.

The next morning, Bucky was very confused. Cash and food and- was that a bottle of beer?- got shoved into his arms when he left his studio. Every single door had something for him and by the time he reached the exit, his bag and pockets were full to bursting. Farewell gifts for his deployment, probably. The building had gotten a whole lot friendlier since the repairs started.

When he saw the blind lady, Theodosia, cackling as she was resignedly handed a bottle of wine, Bucky grinned. The sons-of-bitches actually did it.

Thank God he lost that bet.