Author's Note: Newly beta'd and looking good thanks ravingbeauty for the work. Little warning for slight dubious consent.

Man Out of Time

Part 11 – Lost Time

Tony waited apprehensively for the plane to land, his heart heavy, stomach in knots. Since that first nearly disastrous mission, Tony had been readily welcomed into the Howling Commandos and now regularly ran operations with them.

This last one, however, he had decided not to go along. He knew full well that if he had, he would have done something incredibly stupid – like tell Steve that Bucky would be lost in the mountains. So he had stayed silent and begged off this operation citing his work in the lab. All the while, though, his conscience was eating him alive.

Sad dark eyes watched as the plane touched down. The Commandos disembarked, solemn and drawn. Tony didn't need to ask; their faces said it all. They passed Tony with small, sad smiles before disappearing to seek solace where they could. The last to exit was Steve.

The tall figure seemed hunched, but his eyes were dry as he spotted Tony across the landing pad. Those endless blue eyes gave him a cold, hard look before turning away.

It hurt Tony more than he would have thought possible; still, deep down, he knew he deserved it. Closing his eyes in pain, he sagged and began dragging himself back to the lab, too much of a coward to confront the man.

-#-#-#-

Tony stared unseeing at the device in his hands.

It was a completed time machine – a much smaller, handheld version of the original, but made to the specifications of its inventor. Now the only thing he needed was a power source – he could go home.

So why didn't he?

His work was done; Steve was safe and history was unfolding as it should. Tony was no longer needed. He could have left, could have saved himself the heartache of seeing the man he loved lose his best friend. Yet Tony hesitated… hesitated because he couldn't bear to leave Steve.

"I can't get drunk," a familiar voice said from the doorway, sounding uneven and rough. "I've tried."

Tony turned slowly to face the man. Steve leaned heavily against the doorframe, a mostly empty bottle of Scotch in one hand. He was wearing his dress uniform, but was more rumpled and disheveled than Tony had ever seen him. He pushed off the frame and slowly moved towards the inventor.

Tony held his silence.

"I lost my best friend… but I think you knew that."

There were few times Tony had ever seen Steve genuinely angry – when he'd first awoken from the deep freeze and found out Fury had played him, when they had argued over the death of Coulson, when Tony had flown that warhead into the alien ship. Right now, though, he was angrier than Tony had ever seen him.

As the blond stepped closer, Tony was able to smell the alcohol on him. Steve was within inches of him now, face distorted with rage and sorrow. "Why didn't you tell me, warn me… anything?" Steve rasped out. "I could have saved him."

Tony kept a straight face, though his heart was breaking in his chest, and met Steve's gaze evenly. As he looked back into the dark eyes, Steve clenched his jaw then abruptly lashed out, his fist connecting hard with Tony's face.

Tony's head snapped to the side as he tumbled from the stool. He shook his head to clear it and winced, jaw already aching. Still Tony said nothing as he slowly stood. Righting himself, he faced the larger man, hands at his side. He deserved this. Every bit of it. If it helped, Steve could hit him as much as he liked.

"Why, Tony?" Steve cried as he grabbed him by the shoulders tightly. Gripping hard enough to bruise, he shook him, "Why?"

Sorrowful brown eyes looked into Steve's helplessly. What could he say? That Bucky's death was important? That it would strengthen Steve's resolve to defeat Hydra, ultimately leading to his long sleep under ice?

Tony thought Steve was going to hit him again.

Surprised when harsh lips descended on his, demanding and unyielding, Tony submitted willingly. Rough hands ripped at the shorter man's pants as Steve easily lifted him, backing him up against the wall. A strong hand fisted in his dark hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat.

Then Steve was pushing his own pants down to his thighs as Tony kissed him back fervently, trying to convey the feelings he couldn't voice. He tried to relax as demanding fingers entered him, barely stretching him before Steve was pressing in, hot and painful.

Tony bit the inside of his mouth to keep from yelling out. Despite the pain, he was hard and straining, distantly surprised he was so turned on by the domination.

Steve wasn't thinking straight; losing Bucky had been devastating. All the way home he'd swung between sorrow at the loss and guilt at his secret relief that it hadn't been Tony. It was tearing him up inside, and when he'd seen the man he loved looking at him so sadly, so knowingly, something in him had broken.

Now, here in the lab, Steve snapped his hips forward and bit roughly at Tony's shoulder, prompting a cry of pain from the smaller man. As he thrust again, Steve twisted a hand harder in the dark hair and yanked his head back, allowing Steve to suck harshly at the warm flesh and mark the man as his.

Tony's head was swimming as Steve took him violently against the wall. He gripped the blond hair like a lifeline. "Steve," he panted as he arched back into the thrusts, the blunt head of the soldier's erection hitting him square on. The man from the future didn't last long; with a cry he came hard, Steve's name on his lips.

Grunting, the blond thrust once more before he, too, tumbled over the edge, mumbling Tony's name. Panting, Steve sagged against his lover. Eyes suddenly burning, he buried his face against the warm skin of Tony's shoulder and finally allowed his tears to fall.

Tony was pulled from his post orgasmic bliss abruptly as he felt the hot tears against his skin. Steve was still buried deep inside him as Tony wrapped his arms and legs around the other man, holding him tightly. Kissing the soft hair, Tony mumbled meaningless apologies; nothing he could say would stop the hurt.

Steve gave reign to his sorrow for long moments before he pulled away to look at Tony, tear tracks still visible across his cheeks. His blue eyes widened slowly as he froze; Tony was disheveled, a dark bruise already forming on his jaw. Steve could see love bites marring the skin he had worried and the deep, angry welt on Tony's shoulder.

Gasping Steve pulled away, noticing Tony wince in pain as he slipped out of him. "Tony, I'm… I'm so sorry…" What had he done? Stricken, his breathing became erratic as he backed away, eyes wide.

"No, Steve… it's fine, really." Tugging his pants back up, Tony took a limping step towards the soldier, ignoring his aching body's protests.

"Tony, I…" Steve trailed off; he couldn't even bear to think the word. Like some animal, he had– his mind rebelled at the very thought.

"Steve!" Tony gripped his arms. "Look at me, Steve," he commanded, and the man looked up at him slowly, ashamed. "You didn't, and I enjoyed it."

Surprised, Steve blinked at him a moment as he processed the words, "You liked it?""

Chuckling, the smaller man gestured to his stained shirt, "Yeah, guess I have a thing for domination. Didn't really know that." He smiled wistfully; what fun he'd been missing…

Steve stepped toward him hesitantly, "I'm so sorry, Tony… I was upset."

Nodding, the smaller man took Steve's hands and pulled him close enough to look into his eyes. "You have every right to be upset. There is nothing I can say that will make it any easier, but believe me when I say I know exactly how you feel."

He pulled Steve close and moved them to his small cot. Eventually the soldier relaxed enough to lay his head against Tony's chest, listening to the beat of his heart coupled with the soft mechanical hum of his chest. Tony kissed the blond hair softly, closing his eyes in sorrow, already thinking of what was coming next. Events were already in motion, spiraling forward.

Tony Stark wished with all his heart that he could stop what was about to happen.

-#-#-#-

Things were moving fast.

In the days following Bucky's death Steve seemed to find a grim resolve, a determination to end Hydra, if for no other reason than revenge.

For Tony it was a time of conflicting emotions; he had been in the past for a year and a half. It had been life altering. This jump through time had been both a blessing and curse, but he would never regret it.

"You're thinking an awful lot," the deep voice of his lover spoke so close to his ear. His voice never failed to send chills down Tony's spine.

"Sorry, just a lot on my mind," Tony replied over the din of the pub.

They had followed the rest of the men out tonight. Tony was in the mood to have maybe one too many drinks to silence the turmoil in his heart and mind. He was standing at a crossroads, and it was time to make a decision. Moodily he stared at his tepid, half empty pint, wondering if he had the courage to change the past.

Beside him Steve glanced around the noisy pub, eyes watching with some jealously as couples danced close on the floor, laughing happily. Why couldn't he and Tony have that? It didn't seem fair.

"Tony, in the future… is it friendlier?" Steve asked as he sat on the next stool over, oddly contemplative, his beer barely touched.

"How do you mean?" Tony asked curiously.

The soldier blushed and looked away. "You said once that it wasn't a sickness. I was wondering if it's because in the future…" he trailed off, looking hopeless.

Tony glanced to the crowded dance floor, understanding dawning as he saw the couples pressed cheek to cheek. At that moment he wanted more than anything to pull the other man into his arms. "Yes, it is," he answered softly, staring into those sad, beautiful eyes. "Gay men can even marry one another. No need to hide who you are."

Steve looked overwhelmed. "M-marry? That would be something to see," he said, glancing away, looking lost in thought once more.

Tony had to bite his tongue, wanting to tell Steve that he would see it for himself.

They sat in silence a while longer as the noise rose around them. The sounds of a crowded English pub became a distant roar as they sat side by side, lost in a world of their own. Then some of their men charmed the ladies onto the floor, laughing and flirting as they danced. Tony's dark eyes didn't miss the wistful look on the soldier's face as he watched the others.

"I'm sure one of the ladies would love to dance with Captain America," he offered.

"I don't know how," he quietly confessed.

A dark brow arched, "How come?"

Broad shoulders shrugged, "Hard to when you look like I did. Then the war happened and it didn't seem so important any more." Steve gazed unseeingly across the pub as he continued, "Someone said once that perhaps I had not yet found the right partner." He looked to Tony then, a wealth of emotion in those blue eyes, "I think I have, I'm just not allowed."

It felt like his chest was caving in. The man from the future barely restrained himself from grabbing that big hand, pulling him close. He wanted to promise Steve the moon, promise forever, promise whatever he wanted most. Instead, for now, Tony settled for a dance. "Steve, I promise you we will have that dance."

He got a soft, sad smile in return; Steve looked very much like he wanted to believe him.

Turning away from the couples now, Captain America sipped his beer, his mood heavy and reflective. To his companion it looked as though the blond had made some sort of decision. "That small machine you've been working on the last few days," Steve began slowly, purposely staring at his drink.

Tony froze, glass halfway to his lips; he'd been dreading this question. Closing his eyes, he swallowed a fortifying gulp. "It's a time machine," he spoke quietly, hesitantly. "A way home."

Steve finally looked at him, face neutral, not betraying a single emotion. "They need you, don't they? In your time," Steve asked, though it was more of a statement.

Tony blinked, his mouth opening and closing. "Yeah… Well, at least I hope they need me," his jest fell flat.

Steve gave him a half-smile, "I knew you would have to go back the moment you told me you were from the future. I guess I was hoping…" he shook his head, looking desolate. He was being silly; Tony had to go back to his own time. There was no future for him here. There was no future for them. He had thought he was ready for this moment, to let the man he loved go. Apparently he'd been very wrong.

Tony didn't have the faintest clue what to say. He'd spent his entire life talking too much, and now, when it really counted, he couldn't find the words. Frustrated, he looked away from Steve's pleading eyes; they were asking him for something, for everything, for a promise. Christ, he wanted to promise Steve everything. He couldn't tell Steve what he needed to hear so desperately, though. Tony had never felt so powerless in his life.

"Is there… is there someone waiting for you?" Steve stared across the bar, face drawn, refusing to meet Tony's eyes.

Tony started at the question. Had he really asked that? Steve was giving him no quarter, demanding honesty. He nodded slowly. "I hope there is someone waiting for me," Tony confessed softly, wanting to bang his head against the bar when he saw the look of hurt and betrayal on that beloved face. The raw emotion was only visible for a heartbeat before it was closed off, and Steve was Captain America again, a man with a job to do.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Steve confessed. Before Tony could reply, though, the bigger man was standing, looking anywhere but at him.

"I, umm… I…" Steve glanced into the dark eyes once, the pain he saw there threatening to swamp him. "Goodbye, Tony," he said, turning on his heel and all but running out of the pub.

Anthony Stark watched him go, stricken, but the crowd took no notice of the hasty departure or the rather despondent man left alone at the bar. Clasping trembling hands on the scarred wood before him, Tony confessed quietly, "It's you, Steve. I hope it's you waiting for me."

-#-#-#-

Steve wiped tears from his eyes. His heart was breaking as he looked, unseeing, across the New York skyline; it was hauntingly familiar, yet so different in this time and place.

He could still smell the stale beer and cigarette smoke of the pub, see the couples laughing and dancing, recall the heartwrenching confession. He had asked a question that night and had received his answer. Tony hoped there was someone waiting for him here in this time. It had been the answer he was dreading, and now he had it.

Yet Steve couldn't bring himself to be mad at the brilliant man, no – because Tony had been with him. However brief their time together was, Tony had been all his; and he would always be Tony's, in the past and the future.

His heart broke a little more as he closed his eyes, leaning his overheated forehead against the large glass widow.

"Cap, you ok?" Natasha's soft voice cut through his self-pity as she looked at him with concern. "What is it? What's wrong?" She stepped closer, worried when she saw the tears falling from his blue eyes.

Steve took a shaky breath and looked out across that dismal night, "Tony's coming home."