Yes, I know they stopped making Coke with coke in 1903, and most other things got de-coked after the 1922 laws. The imagery of Steve and Bucky not thinking anything of cocaine except in beverages or as medicine (which continues under limited circumstances in the US) was just too funny to pass up, though. So let's just pretend that those changes happened sometime between 1945 and 1950, eh?

Many thanks to the wonderful reviewers, for your feedback and patience alike: Princess Hinata Bug, Stelra Etnae, Zenoneel-Sarior, PickledCucumbers, DoublePaws, Garfunkyel, and a Guest! You're all amazing.

So there's a metric shit ton of stuff going on right now. I start my first paying job on Monday, my twenty one year old cousin has colon cancer and two kids, I came down with the flu, and we're in the middle of a heat wave with no AC. It all has me very busy. Your understanding about late or missing updates is and will be appreciated.

Also, pssst... Follow me on Tumblr! I have two accounts. The writing account is under the username ichosethenovelinglife and my main is thraeelddim. I look forward to seeing you on there!

Disclaimer: I own nothing under copyright.


Chapter 10: And the Greatest of the Three Was…

"Everything you can imagine is real."

Pablo Picasso

The charity auction was going extraordinarily well, Tony thought smugly. It had been organized within a week of the Battle of New York and was taking place within two weeks, an organizational wonder. He'd have to give Pepper a bonus for this.

Gowns glittered, tuxedos were dark shadows between, and Tony had managed to con the other Avengers into attending. It would help raise money to repair the city, he'd cajoled and begged. Steve going was a given, and Thor had agreed immediately. The spies were a little harder to convince, but they too had said they'd make an appearance. All it took was 'repairing schools' to get Bruce onboard.

For the most part they were hanging out in the back with the Iron Man suit. Little did they realize that JARVIS was driving it right now. Even Tony wouldn't have known if he weren't the pilot.

The sculpture that had been the subject of some light bidding went to a Kennedy for $3,450. Not bad for a block of obsidian, Tony acknowledged.

The auctioneer shifted his cards and grinned out at the audience. "Our star pieces for this evening are a six piece set. They will be bid on separately, at the artist's request," he announced, to whispers of curiosity. That was an occasional event, but sets are usually sold together for a reason.

Tony grinned at the tall blonde squeezed in beside him. While he had peeked at one of the paintings, he hadn't gotten a chance to see the others.

The shy smile he got back promised good things.

"The series is called Gemini, and was painted by none other than Brigadier General Steven Rogers, better known as Captain America," the auctioneer announced. When it resulted in a near roar of interest, he grinned. At his gesture the easel was uncovered.

This painting was the one Tony had seen. Back to back, the Hulk and Bruce stood, but that was the only similarity in their poses. Where the Hulk was slightly hunched forward, fists up and mouth snarling, Bruce looked down at his feet and was fiddling with a pen. Both were familiar and exceptionally well executed.

"Bidding starts at $5,000," the auctioneer said.

There was a cacophony of voices calling out numbers. The auction had begun.

Even Tony was amazed at how high the final price was for that one piece. After five minutes of bidding, it was already at $7,500. At ten, it had reached $9,000. It went to a Rothschild for $17,250.

Steve looked like he had no idea what to think.

"Your stuff might be able to pay for a few buildings by itself!" Tony whispered gleefully into his friend's ear.

All six pieces were similar in theme and composition, but there was no accusing them of being carbon copies or uninspired. Clint's painted eyes radiated good humor both as Hawkeye with his bow and his civilian self holding a game controller, where Nat and Black Widow leaned into each other but obviously without trust from their crossed arms and eyes watching each other. Thor in regular people clothes was covered in mud and looked to be in immense pain as he stared at a grounded Mjolnir, while in his battle armor he was caught in the midst of a fierce war cry, hammer held high. Each of them went for upwards of $15,000.

Second to last was the Captain America portrait. It was what Tony had been looking forward to all evening, aside of his own. Nerves crowded in his belly at the idea of what might be depicted alongside Iron Man, but they were shoved aside for the moment.

When this particular piece was uncovered, even Tony had to inhale sharply. Captain America stood straight, tall and imposing in his skintight suit, shield at the ready to defend. At his back tiny, skinny Steve Rogers relied on bracers to keep his pants up and tightly gripped a packet of papers. In minute red writing the papers were stamped with 4F. The combined shame and pride that the composition resulted in were confusing and made something in Tony's chest ache. Was that how Steve still saw himself?

The painful smile on the super soldier's face said yes as he took in his work again.

"Bidding starts at $5,000," the auctioneer said, and chaos reigned.

This time, Tony couldn't help getting into it. Of everything he had seen so far tonight, this was what he wanted the most. He raised his fan and bid $10,000.

Beside him, Steve's head swiveled like it was being unscrewed from his shoulders. Wide eyed, he watched the bidding go ever higher. By the time Tony won (of course he did), he looked ready to pass out.

"And the item goes to Tony Stark for $20,450," the auctioneer announced, and banged his gavel.

Satisfied, Tony cracked a grin and glanced to the side. "What's got your spandex in a knot?" he questioned once he noticed the other man's expression.

"Did you really just…?" Steve didn't appear able to finish his sentence. He was blinking rapidly, eyes shiny.

"Problem, Spangles?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised.

"No, no, just… You know I'd paint another one for you," Steve said needlessly. The corners of his lips were slowly tilting up, his expression turned to a full blown smile.

"But I wanted that one," Tony protested, admittedly childishly. "And it's going for a good cause." It went without saying that he was going to buy the Iron Man one as well. Who better to own it than Iron Man himself?

Steve shook his head with a smile and a delicious blush that went the whole way down his neck, further than his collar allowed to be seen. Stupid uniform.

"Time to see what you did about Iron Man," Tony said, anticipation roiling in his gut.

"And now for our final piece, we have the last part of the Gemini series by Brigadier General Steven Rogers," the auctioneer announced, and unveiled a canvas the same size as all the others.

Maybe it was because he was Iron Man, or maybe just the mysterious nature of the painting, but Tony found himself drawn to this one more than any other aside of the Captain America picture. The Iron Man armor was perfect in close to every detail, only a few things different from the Mark VII. Upgrades that he had thought of but not implemented, and the armor on the shins was a silvery metal instead of gold or hot rod red. At the armor's back a figure was in shadow from head to foot, almost a foot shorter. Everything else was slightly altered, thicker and wearing what seemed like a suit with an old style pant leg and a peaked hat. Steve had drawn him in an old fashioned military dress uniform.

"Kinky," Tony cackled gleefully into his friend's ear.

Steve gave him a look that screamed to quiet down. It only made the flushed red of his ears cuter.

The auctioneer then announced, "Bidding starts at $5,000."

Immediately it began, and the amount shot even over the Captain America painting. The entire room wanted this painting, wanted even the slightest hint of Iron Man's identity. And there was none, Tony realized even as he put up his first bid.

It was actually kind of brilliant, he thought fondly. Everyone and their mother knew that Iron Man took off from the same place as Cap lived, so who would be more likely to know than the leader of the Avengers? Tony was willing to bet that no one believed Captain America of all people would lie, even through the medium of a painting.

The mere concept made his shrunken, blackened heart feel like it tripled in size. Now that was friendship.

Tony won the painting for $26,000.

The look that Steve gave him was both shocked and adoring. If Tony didn't know better, he would say that the Cap looked ready to kiss him. As it was, he was nearly tackled out of his chair with the enthusiastic hug he got from the muscular superhero.

"Whoa, easy there, big guy!" Tony laughed as he returned the gesture, unable to stop smiling.

It was a shame to separate. The smile Steve gave him when they did was shy but proud, and made him feel like he was frolicking through a field of gummy bears.

About ready to melt into a pile of goo, Tony excused himself to, "see to the transport of my new artworks. They're going on our floor." He couldn't help the wink he shot the blonde, who looked like he didn't know what to do with this.

The moment the business side of things was done (paying for the things, arranging for their delivery to the tower) Tony swanned away to the after-party. He admittedly looked forward to the open bar more than the dancing. Though if he could convince one of the other super-heroes to dance with him, it might be worth it.

He found them spread through the room in pairs. Clint and Natasha melted through the crowd like shadows, passing with barely a blink and seemingly no objective. Thor and JARVIS (via the Iron Man armor) chatted with some high ranking military personnel. Near the bar were his main objectives, Steve and Bruce, the former nursing a whiskey and the latter taking a drink of what looked like beer but was probably soda.

"I see you're availing yourselves of the good stuff," Tony said cheerfully as he slid in beside Steve. He signalled the bartender for a bourbon, and with a wink at the admittedly good looking woman took a sip.

"If you call Coke the good stuff," Bruce said dryly.

"Sugar activates the same parts of the brain as cocaine," Tony pointed out.

"They took the cocaine out?" Steve asked, puzzled as he looked at Bruce's half empty glass.

Both scientists spat their drinks out. As Steve pounded on their backs worriedly, Tony coughed out the last of his bourbon. That burned his nose like nothing else.

Through watering eyes Tony watched the bartender clean up the mess with an irritated sigh. He made a mental note to give her an extra large tip to make up for this. "It's okay, I'm fine," he wheezed.

"I take it that yes they did take the cocaine out of Coca-Cola?" Steve asked, amused, as he watched his friends recover.

"You're just trying to take years off my life now," Tony complained playfully.

For some reason Steve went white.

"Yes, they stopped making Coke with coke," Bruce answered, coming to the rescue, "In America and several other countries cocaine is only legal as a form of anesthesia in hospitals, usually during nasal surgeries." His face was a little red under his tan as he explained, but gradually fading back to usual. That wouldn't do.

"And how do you know so much about this?" Tony questioned slyly. He was just poking fun at his friend, really. He knew Brucie-bear wasn't that kind of doctor, and had never been a tweaker.

Nervously, Bruce rubbed at the back of his neck as he explained, "Well, sometimes when I was in a third world country cocaine would be the only anesthetic available when I had to do some painful treatment or another, so I had to find out if it was legal so I'd know whether I needed to hide it." He looked like he was sure he would get arrested on the spot for admitting to it.

Impressed, Tony could only finish his drink. "And here I thought you were clean-cut," he said to his friend with a grin.

It seemed that Steve was still ironing out his understanding of coke's legality, an idea that Tony struggled to wrap his head around. It was cocaine. "So no cocaine in cough drops?" he asked cautiously.

"Not anymore," Bruce answered gratefully.

"I bet you were pretty well hyped up when you were sick, Spangles," Tony teased. He couldn't help his laughter. The mental image of a tiny Steve sneezing and coughing even as he bounced off the walls was too much to handle.

With a chuckle, Steve shrugged. He looked to have recovered from whatever Tony's joke had done, as he replied, "We couldn't afford medicine too often." It was enough of an answer, and a sobering one.

Nope, he wasn't going down that emotional road. Not tonight. Tony emptied the rest of his glass and asked Bruce, who he knew he wouldn't feel awkward with, "Hey, wanna dance?" The song had changed to something upbeat but not too fast, a good one to start out with.

"Sure thing, Stark," Clint said out of fucking nowhere and pulled him out of his seat.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Tony protested, though he didn't really mean it. Over the past couple of weeks he and the bird brain had become buddies, often enough found swearing creatively at each other as they played Mario Kart or similar. Dancing with him would be fun enough.

The archer wasn't bad at it, Tony saw with some surprise as they started moving. Somehow he hadn't expected this particular skill from him. "What's this all about?" he asked expectantly.

"Can't a man dance with his friend?" Clint pouted. His eyes sparkled mischievously under the arm lights as he spun his partner.

"No," Tony said bluntly. That just wasn't the way things happened for them.

"Fine, fine, I've got a bet that I can get you all to dance with me faster than Nat can," Clint admitted, "and she's already gotten to me and Thor."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony wondered how he had missed that. It would have been a sight to see. Maybe there were cameras he could hack later… "You do realize she's got an advantage?" he asked as he was dipped.

"Why else do you think I took this bet?" Clint asked in return. He brought his partner back up and then began leading them back toward the bar.

Between the people, Tony saw that the redheaded spy was trying to butter up his science bro and the American icon. It didn't appear to be going anywhere. He snickered as Steve traded glances with Bruce.

"And she's stonewalled," Clint said with satisfaction. "Think you could help me bag them? You and Thor will dance with anybody, but those two are a hard bargain." He quirked a brow as he looked back at his friend.

"I think Steve will need some working on, but I know I can get Mean Bean on board," Tony agreed happily. He looked forward to convincing the super soldier, just like everything else that had to do with him. Even better if it got him a turn out on the dance floor.

Warily, Clint scrutinized him. "What will I have to do?" he questioned, knowing better than to expect anything except room, board, and insults for free with the genius.

Tony grinned. "Next time I need to get out of a meeting, you cover for me," he said. Sometimes he could get away with citing that the Iron Man suit needed work, but not often enough for his taste. A new word needed to be invented for how much he detested boring board meetings.

"Deal. Ready?" Clint agreed. He turned calculating eyes on the bar, watching Nat flirt with one man then the other in her attempts to win.

"Ready," Tony said, praying he wouldn't be murdered in his sleep for it. Then again he tended to have an overprotective super soldier in his bed… Maybe he'd be okay.

It was a few seconds' work to pull Bruce out of his chair in the middle of a sentence and shove him at Clint. "I want to sit. You go dance or something," he told his fellow scientist in a hurry. He was grateful that Nat was sitting on Steve's other side as the archer pulled Bruce onto the dance floor; her glare could probably melt him.

Thank every god on Asgard that Steve shifted just enough to block him from sight. The man deserved good things for that. Maybe an upgrade on his bike.

Now Nat worked even harder, on both of them. All she got from Steve were subtle shifts away (which happily put him closer to Tony) and polite refusals. With Tony, all stops were taken out as they flirted over the super soldier's head. It was fun, and strangely reminded him of when she was his PA.

"Hey Spangles, let's get out there!" Tony exclaimed, right after threatening to show the spy later that night how silver his tongue was. Not that he actually would, she was too scary to even think about actually doing it.

Steve was obviously blindsided, as he allowed himself to be manhandled from his stool. Right up until they got to the edge of the dance floor he wore a befuddled look, trying to figure out where this came from. Then his eyes went wide. "No, Tony! Stop! Tony, stop! I- I don't know how to dance!" he stammered.

How that had happened in an era where everybody did, Tony wasn't sure. But it only intensified his determination, as he pulled the super soldier to the edge of the dance floor. "I'll teach you," he said. He took his partner by the hands and placed them correctly.

The hand at his waist squeezed, adjusted to the curve of his hip. Between that and the cold of the palm against his, Tony was left a little breathless. They were close enough to feel the cool of the other man's body through their clothes, chests almost touching. Whether he woke up cuddling the man nearly every morning or not, being this close still drove him a little crazy.

"We start off moving in a box," Tony said, once he swallowed the lump in his throat. Using the hand holding that larger one, he motioned in the direction he wanted to go.

The movement to the side was smooth and precise. The next was similar. It wasn't long before the steps were being performed without thought, their circles growing bigger and then including turning. Each new move Tony showed was learned rapidly, once demonstrated.

"Reminds me of missions with the Commandos," Steve reported cheerfully as he brought Tony in after a spin, "Sometimes it would be so dark we had to signal by touch." He danced with surety now, sweeping past where Bruce was awkwardly coached through the steps by Clint.

The evil eye he got from the archer was met by sticking out his tongue. It wasn't his fault he was a great teacher.

As the movements became muscle memory, Steve began to improvise. Somehow that always brought his partner closer, until they were often pressed together from chest to hips. It felt more like a salsa than a waltz now. Not that Tony was complaining.

The song changed several times and the night wore on. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would just dance. Tony was sure his heart would pound out of his chest the whole time.

The intensity of those blue eyes on him was even more electrifying than his hands. There was just enough contact of their torsos to get an idea of the hard muscles under that uniform, but not enough to get more than a taste. Long legs brushed against his and arms slid along his back. It was addicting. Tony was sure that he would be driven mad by want before the night was up. Was this what it would be like to actually be Steve's?

The reminder was like a bucket of ice. Right in the middle of a turn Tony froze, leading his partner to stumble into a nearby couple. Even as Steve apologized to the people, the genius's brain went a little numb and his arc reactor felt a little heavier.

Steve wasn't his. The ring was still on his finger, a gleaming reminder that he might never be.

Suddenly Tony needed a drink.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked, eyes roving him with concern.

The spell broken, Tony was able to lie. "Yeah, just got an idea for the suit," he said cheerfully, "Look, Clint's free!" He pulled the archer in and shoved him at the super soldier in order to make his own escape.

It just resulted in getting swept up by Nat. Damn. At least she didn't look ready to kill him. "Alright, Stark?" she asked, giving him that all knowing look she must have learned from Agent.

"Yeah, yeah. Where'd you come from anyways?" Tony griped at her even as he moved.

He was ignored, or more accurately his untruth was seen through and then ignored. "You seriously haven't told him yet?" Nat asked, deadpan.

Alarms buzzed in Tony's head even as he went to lie again. No one could know. He wouldn't let this be used against him. "Told who, what? You've gotta be more specific than that, really. Have I told bird brain that his new arrows are ready, have I told Brucie that I-" he started chattering, though he wilted under the force of that look. Even as he dipped her he looked for a way out of this conversation.

Bruce and the Iron Man suit were hanging out in a dark corner by the bar, appearing to be deep in conversation. Across the dance floor, Thor interrupted Clint and Steve's (very good looking) dance asking for a turn with the captain. The archer practically threw them together and cackled at the sight. On the sidelines Pepper chatted with Happy, and they looked to be flirting. No one was coming to his rescue.

In his arms, Nat stared slightly down at him with disgust. "Please tell me you're not that oblivious," she told him.

It was a strange experience being dipped by a woman, Tony thought, but was back on his feet in one smooth movement before he could worry. Not that she wasn't strong enough for the motion. He had seen some of the Budapest files. No, this conversation was more worrying. "Yes, I know I'm in love with him," he admitted in a whisper.

"Then go get him. He won't say no," Nat answered in that tone that screamed, "Duh!" The look only intensified that.

"It's not me he wants," Tony refuted.

When he looked over at Steve, he found that the man had actually managed to lure the Iron Man armor onto the dance floor. For being so bulky the machine was graceful as it spun the captain around. It probably helped that the armor was only a few inches taller, and had an all-knowing AI controlling it. Good old JARVIS.

"Trust me, it's you," Nat told him, almost too close in order to whisper secrets into his ear, "The way he looks at Iron Man is nothing compared to how he looks at you. It's a daily battle for us all to not just lock you in a closet and be done with it." If she got any closer, they'd be chest to chest. She might discover the arc reactor.

Partially for that reason, Tony pulled slightly away. He looked her in the eyes, and despite that his voice nearly broke, he told her candidly, "It's not me he wants. Even if he does swing this way. It's Anthony Starosta that he sees when he looks at me." And the worst part was that he could understand why.

The spy frowned at him. "How do you know about him?" she questioned.

This song had a faster beat, so they moved with it. It was without notice, on long-honed instinct, as they talked.

"What do you mean? He's all over the internet if you Google 'seventh Howling Commando' and let the conspiracy nutters talk," Tony said, before realizing he'd struck gold, "Hold the phone. He's real? Like, really real?" He trusted Steve, of course he did, but outside confirmation is also valuable.

"Real enough for SHIELD to have his file," Nat revealed, "They had his body too, but it got reburied a few days ago." She seemed unconcerned about this as she was twirled.

It all added up to a horrible whole in Tony's mind. "So that's what they loaned Bruce that lab for," he said out loud without realizing it. He remembered Bruce asking about the security in the labs, and him checking it out remotely only to find bugs everywhere and shut them all down. If they had this guy's body and Bruce and a lab with DNA testing equipment… They wanted to find out exactly who this guy was. Like they didn't already know.

From how her brow furrowed, Nat figured something out too. "The big question is why after all that testing, Bruce destroyed the results," she murmured.

The idea of Bruce doing that was inconceivable. But Nat's sources were many and reliable, so it had to be true. "Maybe the results were too dangerous," Tony suggested.

The way Nat's eyes roamed his face now was like she was trying to categorize him. Or maybe overlaying a face over his. "Super soldier serum," she provided.

That would do it. But how would the guy have gotten it? "I thought Steve was the only successful test subject?" Tony asked, just to be sure.

They quieted as one of the subjects of their conversation passed them. With how graceful Steve and Thor were, they could probably win some contests. They too were talking intensely, though what about, Tony couldn't suss out; they weren't speaking English.

"When did Thor learn Yiddish?" Nat asked.

"When did he learn English?" Tony returned. It sure as hell wasn't the god's first language, but he spoke it without falter.

Nat dipped her head in concession and got back to their original conversation. "He was Erskine's only successful test subject. Everyone tried to recreate the serum, maybe someone succeeded. It's what Steve implied when he was interrogated about the destroyed data," she said, putting the pieces together, before she snorted, "Not that we can really trust that."

"He's Captain America, Nat," Tony pointed out.

"He's a tactician who specialized in guerilla warfare and special operations during the deadliest conflict of our time," Nat countered, "and I have it on good authority that he fooled the lie detector. He has things to hide."

The very idea was foreign, like a stupid Bruce or a non-scary Pepper. "What could he be hiding?" Tony wondered out loud. He didn't have quite enough data to figure it all out yet.

"All we've figured out is that it has to do with Starosta. He died under suspicious circumstances of a hole in his chest the size of my fist," Nat said, holding her hand up for reference, "The file says it was assisted suicide in the face of being experimented on by HYDRA." Her voice was enough to say that she didn't believe it for an instant.

"You think he was murdered?" Tony asked carefully. If she was right, that would mean Steve protected whoever did it. And the only person he could think of who might rank over someone the super soldier saw with such fondness, maybe even love, was…

"The file says Bucky Barnes was the one to, ah, assist," Nat said delicately. Her smile was distinctly sharklike as she confirmed his thoughts.

A picture was being painted in Tony's mind that he really didn't like. "No wonder this guy was written out of the history books," he said. Without him, the Howling Commandos were a unified team hand picked by Captain America to take down HYDRA. With him, they were divided by a murder that was then covered up by a national icon who was thought of as the face of incorruptible pure pureness. It was more than a little difficult to think of.

It seemed that Nat took pity on him. She patted his cheek and gave him a sad sort of smile. "All idols have feet of clay. Sometimes it just takes some extra work to chip away the paint," she told him, "I know you love Steve, and I still think you should go for it, but be careful. You can't trust everything to come out of that perfect mouth." She paused, weighing her words.

"And?" Tony asked, curious.

The smile Nat wore turned mischievous. "Are you up for helping us figure out who Starosta really was?" she asked.

As they separated, giving up their dance, Tony scoffed. "You thought I wouldn't be?" he asked, scandalized.

"I thought you would be," Nat said, before she disappeared into the crowd.

Left alone with his overturned world, Tony sneaked over to where Happy was coming back from the bathroom. "Hey, uh, can you get me out of here? This party's over for me," he requested of his chauffer.

Though Happy looked at him with curiosity, he agreed. "Let me tell Pepper," he said, and waded through the crowd to do it. The conversation was mercifully short.

As he was driven home, Iron Man suit in the back seat (how had JARVIS managed to sneak it out of that crowded room anyways?) Tony thought deeply on everything that had happened. He'd admitted to one of the people he trusted least in the world that he was in love, when he had barely been able to even think it. In return, she'd broken everything he knew about the man he loved. And they were going to see whether there was more Steve had covered up than a murder.

Sometimes he wondered what kind of fucked up world he lived in. Other times, he got drunk enough to be able to forget.

It looked like tonight was going to be one of those other times.