I tried to work the phrasing from my square a little more elegantly than this, but Tony was in a really blunt mood, so he just says it right out.
Avengers Bingo Square fill: What do you think I've been doing? (Note: I've written multiple fills for Avengers Bingo that can't be posted here on FFN. They can be found under 'Darsynia' on AO3 and include a Tony/gender neutral Reader kiss fic, a Steve Rogers/female Reader angst smut fic, and a 20k Steve Rogers/female Reader series featuring a second AU Steve Rogers and pining)
The Sacrifice Play
"You two want to cool off?" Fury's tone is good-natured, but his expression isn't, and Tony is pretty sure this is some kind of 'final warning' before he learns that the man's surname is also a frame of mind.
"Sure," Tony says, matching Fury's tone. He catches Barton's eye, watches as the archer tips his head toward the hallway and aims another dart at the dartboard. It's not clear whether he's offering a quiet place to talk it out like men or threatening some kind of projectile punishment if Tony's argument with Rogers turns profane. Probably both. "Hey, can I have a word, Cap?"
"Of course," Rogers grits out, his jaw set in a stubborn line.
As Tony leads him away from the roomful of children and children, he wonders if the serum gave the man an extra teflon coating of stubbornness. He's seen the pictures of pre-serum Steve, and maybe it's shallow, but that Steve Rogers does nothing for him. Then again, given what this Steve Rogers does for him, that might be preferable. Tony's a notch past furious into livid, and the worst part is, everything that makes him angry right now is his own fault. Well, almost everything.
Rogers barely has the door closed before Tony decides to go for catharsis. Fuck it.
"I figured it out."
The sigh and slow turn Rogers makes to face him tells Tony everything about how close he is to losing his temper. "What have you figured out, Tony?"
Seems that Rogers doesn't use his first name unless he's angry, and it's so close to Howard Stark's approach to parenting that Tony ramps up even further.
"That witch sent you something that chaps your morals, didn't she? And I know what it is."
Tony lifts his chin and struts forward. It's all veneer, which is rare for him, but the myriad ways he wants this infuriating man strips Tony down to the bare wood every time anyway. This is the only way he'll ever find out, and he's sick of wondering whether it's hopeless. Honestly, the novelty is quaint. What do you get the man who has everything?
"Tony-"
"It's me. You want me. You should go for it. Times have changed, Cap. Could be fun."
Rogers looks around at the room like there could have been a mini-Clint hiding somewhere to overhear. "You can't be-"
"Serious?" Tony interrupts stridently. "Why not?" He takes a step forward, and Rogers sidesteps behind one of the chairs set up around a small table. "See, your whole lumberjack thing outside, it got me thinking. Seems like everyone else saw one of two things: a new, horrifying vision of the future, or a deep-seated horror of the past. What if yours is both?" Tony walks around the chair, his heart racing, blood moving so fast he can almost feel it careening around inside him. Every time the cells strike the vessel walls, he burns hotter. "What if the thing you feared in the past is the thing you fear now, maybe even more so? Because you can have it."
"Kind of speechless here, Tony," Rogers coughs, backing up into the second chair and knocking it over. He seems grateful to put some distance between them as he turns and picks it up.
"That's okay. You don't need to talk."
Rogers freezes, the chair in front of him like a shield. Tony's warming to the look, so he turns on his highest watt smile, the kind he offers the wary starlets, the ones who know better.
The chair drops an inch in what has to be pure shock, and Tony's jolted with a similar rush.
He hasn't denied it.
"Here, do me a favor, okay? Just in case we've got eavesdroppers," Tony says, moving the small table between them out of the way. He takes off his flannel and drapes it on the table. "You want to see it? I mean, okay, if you insist." He takes off his shirt.
Hilariously, Steve Rogers turns around. "I was trying to be polite, Tony, but this is…"
"What? I was just showing you my scar!" Tony says, overloud, but he drops his voice into a low, pained hiss. "It's either sexual harassment or therapy, Rogers. Pick one."
Tony doesn't have his suit right now, and that makes him fist food if he has judged this wrong. He's okay with that. He- he needs to be pounded, and either way will work.
"Look, I get it," Tony says, and as he speaks, he presses his fist against the scar on his chest, trying to thumb some comfort over his damaged heart. "Go on, face me and say the thing."
Steve doesn't move a muscle as he speaks. "What thing?"
"The cutting remark about my lack of morals, the way I make everything about me, how I push and push until everyone's patience snaps. I get it. You're Captain America. You're built out of patience. Morals course through your veins."
He hears Rogers huff out a sigh, and it's so human that Tony can't help it, the things he shouldn't say just come out, right in the open, where anyone could hear them.
"The craziest part is, I was willing to give, on all of that. I've got a good start on the morals, but everything else is just fucked by impatience. Look at me pushing. I'm hopeless."
"We're in another man's house, Tony," Rogers finally says.
"Yeah, well, I think part of me has always lived in your house, so that's nothing new," Tony grits out, and shit, the lust being out there is one thing, but this?
He tastes metal in his mouth, recognizes it as his own specific, frightened flavor of crossing the line, so Tony snags his shirt and starts to put it back on. Right when his eyes are covered, he hears the chair go crashing to the floor, and jerks the shirt down in enough time to see Rogers knock the table to the side as he comes straight at Tony. There's no interpreting the pained expression on his face, but Tony's bracing himself for a fight when he's propelled backwards by a solid hand on his shoulder. He ends up against the only blank section of wall in the whole bedroom.
"What did you see? What did that girl show you? Is that what's making you do this?" Steve (this is Steve, not 'Rogers,' not the perfect soldier Tony's father idolized, Tony's had an avatar of this man in his life for long enough that he can tell the difference) is breathing heavily, but it can't be from exertion. Tony's flotsam without his suit right now.
"I saw-" Tony breaks off, because Steve's searching his expression with desperate eyes, and it's almost romantic, the way he's consumed by his need for Tony's answer. Terrified and elated, hoping he's not wrong, Tony rests a gentle hand on Steve's arm, the one acting like a steel beam pinning him to the wall. "I saw the team dead. I saw you, broken on the ground. Your shield was in pieces. You asked me why I didn't save you. Cap- Steve. What do you think I'm doing? I'll never not try to save you. I'm trying to save you right now. Call it narcissistic, call me the most self-centered person on the planet- "
Steve's kissing him before Tony needs to figure out an ending to the sentence, and it's rough, furious, vindictive, eager. The pressure on his shoulder doesn't let up, but Steve presses his other hand right over Tony's heart, and Tony yanks him closer, pouring all of his lovelorn frustration into this thing he's always hated that he wanted.
It isn't until the kiss deepens, until Steve is tasting him, that Tony realizes he was right. He was right, and it's his best idea, his most genius invention, the one he's least worthy of.
Steve pulls back just enough to look at him, and he goes through it, right there, where Tony can see. There's confusion, gratitude, elation, even embarrassment, and because he's a smartass, Tony can't let the moment lie.
"I know how to be quiet…" he dangles.
Steve closes his eyes and huffs out a laugh. Because they're so close, the air from his lungs puffs against Tony's face, and if that's not symbolic of some kind of intimacy, he has no idea what is.
"I didn't see this, in the vision. I saw Peggy," Steve says, straightening without pulling back far enough to feel distant. "It seems like everyone saw something related to someone close to them, and she was, but-"
"But?" Tony squeezes his shoulder, forgiving the need to step back, to change the moment. This feels more important, which probably means he's farther gone on Steve fucking Rogers than he thought.
"I was stuck in the past, like that's where I belong." Steve looks at the floor for a long time, and when he lifts his head, it's with purpose. "You weren't there."
"I'm here now."
Steve's smile gives Tony the same flutters it did the first time he saw it in person, but boy do those flutters feel different than they did then.
"So am I."