Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 1882

AN: Very ambiguously set after Civil War, but you know, not following Canon even slightly. Also, Hanahaki disease. There's that.

Just This Once

He'd just poured himself a drink when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the name on the screen. It wasn't one he'd seen for quite a while. His finger hovered over the decline button for a moment before he sighed and pressed the 'accept' button and raised his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Tony? Oh, thank god. I didn't think you'd answer."

"I debated on it," he admitted. "What's wrong, Natasha?"

"Steve."

"Of course it is. What's wrong with Steve?"

"He's got Hanahaki and is refusing to speak to any of us."

Tony rubbed at his temple. There was a faint ache in his gut that he manfully ignored. Now wasn't the time for his own hurt feelings about Steve being so in love with someone else that he was coughing up flowers for them.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, because she wouldn't have called him if she didn't already have a plan.

"He's removed himself from the compound and is staying in a hotel. I want you to go and talk some sense into him."

"What makes you think he'll listen to me?" Tony asked, frowning. "We're not exactly the best of friends, Nat."

"That's why I think it's best if you go. We've all tried, Tony, but there's something about the two of you that often turns explosive. Maybe you can at least force a name out of him. It'd be more than we've got now."

"You're telling me you don't have any idea who it is?" he asked, finding that hard to believe. Natasha normally at least had a clue, especially when it came to the more personal aspects of the team's lives.

She'd known things about him when he'd been an Avenger that he still didn't know how she'd found out about, like his love of cats, or his tendency to go find hot-dogs when he'd had a terrible day.

Yet she didn't know who Steve was mooning over?

"I… I've got an idea," she admitted. "But it's not concrete enough that I'm willing to risk confronting him about it if I'm wrong."

"Who do you think it is?"

"That's… not relevant."

"I'd say it is," Tony argued, looking longingly at the drink he'd poured. He knew he couldn't have it if he was going to see Steve; the last thing he needed was to be around the super-soldier without full control of himself.

"Not really. Please, Tony. You're the only person I can think of that can help."

He closed his eyes and then nodded to himself. "Fine. Send me the deets of the hotel, I'll go in a few minutes."

He hung up the phone and had barely put it down on the table when it vibrated with the text telling him where he'd find Steve.

With one last glance at the full glass, he picked up the jacket he'd not long ago taken off and left the penthouse for the elevator.

This was going to be a disaster.

…

At least the hotel was nice. Tony waited outside the door of room 221 for Steve to open it. He could hear him lumbering around inside, and he dearly wanted to shout through the wood for him to hurry up, but he had a feeling if he did, the door would never open.

Eventually, it opened to reveal Steve, who looked… well he looked bloody awful. He had a half grown, unkept beard, his eyes were bloodshot from what Tony assumed was a lack of sleep, and his clothes were creased and uncared for in a way that Steve never was.

"Tony? What are you doing here?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Nat called. Said you're being an idiot, or something to the same effect. Are you going to let me in?"

"I'm not actually feeling up to a visit," Steve hedged.

Tony paid him no mind and slipped beneath his arm and through the gap between Steve and the edge of the doorframe. The hotel room was mostly bland, but the sheets were the weirdest shade of burnt orange, and it was surprisingly messy, given Steve's usual penchant for tidiness.

Tony clocked the bin beside the bed, almost overflowing with used tissues, and he could see flower petals sitting in a few of them, crumpled up but vibrant against the white of the tissues.

Tony perched on the edge of the oak wood desk and looked at Steve. "Wanna tell me who you're trying to die over?"

"I'm not trying to die, Tony," Steve replied, as he let the door swing shut. He returned to the most crumpled spot on the bed, and sat down with his back to the headboard. The TV had already been silenced, but he still kept his gaze on the flickering screen.

"There's only one way Hanahaki ends if you don't have the operation to remove—"

"I'm not going to just remove my emotions!"

"So you're going to die," Tony pointed out. "Have you ever tried to tell the person?"

Steve shook his head. "There's no easy answer here, I know that. I just… I guess I'm banking on the serum keeping me alive, even if it's…"

"Suffering."

Steve shrugged and then nodded.

Tony shook his head. "You got any beer here?"

"No."

"Hmkay." Tony picked up the phone and dialled down to reception, quickly ordering food and two beers to the room. When he put the phone down, he sat down at the bottom of the bed, pulling one leg up onto the mattress in front of him so he was facing Steve.

"Why are you here, Tony?"

"Nat—"

"Why are you really here? You haven't so much as looked at me for nearly three months."

"Because Natasha told me that you're intent on killing yourself, and while I might not enjoy being around you right now, it doesn't mean I want you to die!"

Tony tried to settle himself, looking away for a moment. He was supposed to be making Steve lose his cool, not lose it himself.

"Tony… I'm not going to die."

"Maybe not, but you're not happy either, are you?" Tony said, rubbing a hand over his face. He was so tired. Maybe he should have put this off until he'd managed to get some sleep.

"I'll be fine."

That seemed unlikely in Tony's opinion. He said as much, and pointed out that they didn't actually know the serum's capabilities. "I just don't understand why you'd chance it like that," Tony admitted. "Just tell whoever it is. Who wouldn't love you?"

Steve snorted. "I can think of a few people. You're right up there—and with good reason, I know."

Tony almost laughed at the absurdity of that statement. He looked over at Steve, who was watching him with cautious eyes.

"Who is it, Steve?"

Steve shook his head. "Doesn't matter, Tony. He doesn't feel the same."

"He?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. "Is it Barnes? Because that—"

"It's not Buck. I love him very much, but we've always been brothers, not lovers."

"Huh. Wilson?"

"Not Sam."

"It's not my—"

"It's not Rhodes, Tony. Nor is it Clint, or Fury, or Coulson, or… no."

"Galaga Guy?" Tony asked, his lips tilting up when Steve laughed in surprise.

He shook his head, and then got up to answer the knock on the door, accepting the platter of food and beer from the porter.

He set it on the bed, and handed Tony one of the bottles. "You didn't order all this for you," he surmised, looking at the amount of food on the tray.

Tony shrugged. "You can't eat flower petals, Steve."

"No, I don't suppose I can," Steve agreed. "I… thanks."

"Well, since you seem determined not to look after yourself, someone's gotta do it."

"I… would never have expected that person to be you," Steve admitted, watching Tony pick at the fries on the platter. He took a swig of the beer Tony had ordered for him, and then wrinkled his nose at the taste. "That is not good beer."

"We're in a hotel, Steve, not a high end bar. You get what you get."

Steve nodded, picking at the food instead. When Tony had eaten his fill, and Steve had polished the rest off, Steve looked closer at the genius.

"You look exhausted. You haven't been sleeping?"

Tony snorted. "You've known me a long time, Steve. When have you ever known me to be anything less than running on fumes? It's when I thrive."

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but was surprised by a cough. Three petals spilled into his hand. Tony grimaced, looking away, hating to see the evidence that Steve was in love.

He knew that was probably unfair, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

"They're gone," Steve murmured softly. "Sorry you had to see that."

Tony just shook his head. It wasn't really Steve's fault, after all. "Who is it, Steve?"

There was a long pause, and then Steve patted the bed beside him. "Come and lay down with me."

Tony frowned. "What?"

"You're tired, I'm tired. We should sleep. Come and lay down."

"Steve, I—"

"Please, Tony."

Hesitantly, Tony shifted where he sat, and then slipped his shoes and jacket off. He crawled up the bed until he was lying down with his head on the pillows, facing Steve. Steve shifted himself down the bed and turned so that he and Tony were face to face.

"Go to sleep, Tony."

Tony wanted to argue, he really did, but his eyes were already getting heavier, and he knew he wasn't even going to last long enough to make a real argument.

Instead, he said, "This is over, Steve."

"I know. Sleep."

…

Tony woke up to see it was still dark out. He'd turned while he was sleeping and was facing the windows. He remembered lying down on top of the covers, and was surprised he wasn't cold, but the space heater super-soldier pressed up behind him had taken care of that.

There was a heavy weight over his waist and he looked down to see Steve's arm draped over him, holding him close.

"Don't get up," Steve murmured, his breath tickling the back of Tony's neck. "Please, just… stay. Just for a while."

Tony didn't particularly want to move, but as his brain came online, a suspicion started creeping into his thoughts. He lifted his own arm and laid it over Steve's, caressing the back of his hand lightly with his fingertips.

"Steve… tell me who the flowers are for."

Steve's hand tightened minutely on his waist. "I think you already know, Tones. They could only ever be for one person. I think you knew what Natasha called you."

"You know it won't be easy, don't you?" Tony whispered. "We have so much history… so much to work through…"

"Tony."

Tony turned in Steve's arms so that he was facing him. He reached up to brush the dark blonde hair from his cheek. "I love you, Steve."

Steve smiled, his lips slowly tipping up until he was beaming at Tony. "I love you too."

Lying there in the hotel room, on the burnt orange sheets, Tony thought that maybe, love could be enough to fix things.

Just this once.

Written For:

Bex's Bits and Pieces: 27. Four In A Bed: Hotel Room

Home Sweet Home: Plate Set: Marvel Plate Set: (Fandom) Marvel

Funfair: Paint a Rainbow: Red: Sharing a Bed

Funfair: Afternoon Tea: Smoked Salmon Sandwiches: Hanahaki Disease

Days of the Year: April 28th. Superhero Day: Write about a Superhero.

National Women's History Month: 3. Rosa Parks: Determined

Library Week: 24. Ancient Runes Made Easy by Laurenzoo: (Dialogue) "There's no easy answer here."

National Aquarium Month: 4. Angelfish: Unlikely

Pride: Red: Love

Fishing Week: 1. Extra Fishing Line: Happy

National Candy Month: 7. Terrific Turtles: (emotion) Love

Colour: 9. Burnt Orange

Crystals and Gemstones: 11. Bronzite: Exhausted

Hogwarts Garden: BBQ Area: 26. BBQ Wood Chips: Drinking alcohol

365: 94. Relevant

Musical Yearly: 314. Reggae: Help Me Make It Through The Night: Come and lay down by my side

Insane House: 902. Hanahaki Disease