Author's Note: Here we are, only two more parts to go. I think is my favorite chapter. The picture I saw in my head was so clear and perfect, and I hope I capture it here for you. I've started another one that I hope will be a one shot, because I have a prompt that I'm eager to tackle. So look for more from me in the near future. Thanks and enjoy!
Thank you ravingbeauty, you are a fantastic beta, all your work makes me look so good.
That Has Such People
Part XIII – Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown
He was happy.
Genuinely happy.
Almost sickeningly so.
It all seemed almost surreal, like a dream he was living, a fragile perfect moment in time, and at any moment he was going to wake alone once more.
When Steve had those moments he would seek Tony out and find him drawing, or playing games with Clint and Thor, or watching movies and arguing books with Bruce.
Wherever it was, though, Tony would be there, larger than life, with a ready smile and open arms. Steve felt his breath hitch unconsciously as his arc reactor whirred a little harder in chest. It'd only been a week – a week – and he was completely and utterly besotted, using every excuse he could think of to spend time with him.
They made excursions into the city to do touristy things, went out for meals, even coffee. They watched movies and made out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, still going no further than touching and caressing above the belt. Not that Steve minded – as long as Tony was there at night. Just as he had been, ever since that night he'd kissed him.
Steve was sometimes frightened of the depth of feeling he had for the man. It was almost like standing on the precipice of something dark and unknown, being terrified to make that leap of faith. Only Tony was there – and the genius knew in his heart of hearts that he would catch him.
Sighing, the blond stared unseeing at the holo screens before him, wondering if he could persuade Tony to go out to dinner… maybe cuddle in front of a movie. Biting his lip, he didn't bother to hide his grin; he continued to plan and daydream, only to be interrupted by JARVIS.
"Miss Carter is on the phone, sir."
Blinking, Steve puffed a breath out and waited a moment, hoping Peggy would cancel the call. Finally, resigned, he called out, "Put her through, J."
And in the same breath, "Hello, Peg."
"Hello Steven, I have Amanda with me. I'm putting you on speaker."
Steve bit back a groan.
"Hello, Mr. Rogers," Amanda greeted briskly.
"Morning," he returned politely, wondering what kind of trouble was coming his way. Nothing good could possibly come from this call.
"Steven, we want to confirm your attendance for tonight. We also need to know if you're bringing a date or not."
"And I am here to veto said date choice and suggest a better one," Amanda finished.
Steve blinked, mouth working. Date choice?
"Ummm," he managed unintelligently.
"Steven…" Peggy began, tone already disappointed and stern. "Did you forget tonight is the Rogers-Stark Annual Charity Gala?"
This time he was unable to stifle his groan, "That's tonight?"
The CEO of RSI let out a long-suffering sigh, "Yes, that is tonight."
"Don't suppose I could just say I was sick?" he ventured. He hated those stupid functions more than anything. A whole night spent pretending to care about lining already-rich pockets – it was sickening… and unfortunately a necessary evil in his life.
The very pregnant pause from the other end was answer enough.
Massaging his temples, he sighed. "Fine, and as for the date…" he paused, mind immediately going to Tony. Only he hesitated…
Asking Tony meant a wealth of things. He wanted to, more than anything, but it would mean going public. Steve couldn't bear to bring that kind of shit storm down on Tony. It was selfish on his part, but he would do anything he could to protect him.
"Steven?" Peggy prompted softly, and he realized they were still waiting on him.
"No one, no date," he said softly, feeling the pain acutely.
Peggy was silent a moment. "Are you sure, Steven?" her voice seemed melancholy.
"Yeah, Peg. I am."
"Will that be all, Mr. Rogers?" she asked primly, accented voice lilting pleasantly.
"Yes, Miss Carter."
When the line went dead Steve heaved a shuddering sigh, closing his blue eyes tightly, and buried his head in his arms. Sometimes he wished he wasn't who he was, that he didn't own a multibillion-dollar corporation, that the media wasn't just waiting for him to mess up.
Looking up, he stared across the room at his suit and realized one simple truth. They were who they were – even Tony wouldn't give up the serum and he wouldn't trade being Iron Man for anything.
For better or worse, they would always be that.
-#-#-#-
"How the hell are you even good at this?" Clint yelled, leaning across him, eyes glued to the TV as his fingers madly smashed at buttons. Tony laughed, fingers moving just as rapidly over the plastic controller. On the screen his player crept forward, gun at the ready.
"Naturally gifted," Tony returned with a grunt as he shot what Clint had explained was a zombie in the head.
"Fuck that noise, you have to be cheating."
Chuckling grimly, Tony turned in a tight circle, firing as he went, the horde of undead falling before him.
"A man from the 1940s is beating you at Call of Duty," Bruce teased from behind his bundle of papers.
"Shush you," the archer said, never looking away.
Amused, Tony easily ran circles around Clint's character. In the middle of moving through an overrun building, though, he felt his phone vibrating. The Cap didn't even pause. Switching the controller to one hand, he pulled out his phone and hit the talk button.
"Stark," he answered.
"Anthony?"
Tony winced. Only two people used his given name like that and one was currently in the kitchen making an obscene amount of pop tarts. That left…
"Peggy, what can I do for you?"
There was a slight hesitation on the other end before she continued speaking, "I have a favor to ask of you, Tony."
It grabbed his attention instantly – not so much what she said, but the way she said it. "Of course," he said, game forgotten as he leaned forward intently to listen, ignoring Clint's wails of anguish as the dead overran them.
-#-#-#-
Steve was not upset.
Or at least that's what he was trying to convince himself as the limo weaved through the busy New York night. Absently adjusting the cuffs of his tux, he sighed. Who the hell was he kidding? He was upset.
He wanted Tony here with him, at his side, where he belonged. This night was just as much about the Stark legacy as it was his. Tony had every right to be here. The billionaire winced; it had been completely selfish on his part not to invite him, date or not. But this thing between them was so new, so fragile… He hesitated to do anything that could potentially ruin it.
So here he sat alone, in this ostentatious limo, once more proving to himself and the world just what a selfish bastard he was. He stared listlessly at the scotch in his hand, suddenly not the least bit interested in the drink. His mind churning and worried, wondering where Tony was at that moment. When he'd left the Tower, Tony hadn't even been home.
"Not here?" he repeated, looking at Clint blankly.
"Sorry, man. He got a call and left a while ago," the archer offered.
"A call?" Steve asked, worried.
Bruce, who was sitting nearby, waved a hand, "Not that kind of a call – a personal one."
Somehow that just made it worse. Straightening unconsciously, Steve felt his mask slide once more into place, comforting and familiar. "Well don't wait up, kids. Big do tonight."
"Have fun, Steven," Thor said, eyes glued to the TV as he worked his way through the stack of pop tarts at his side.
With a practiced smile and wave, Steve was gone.
"Here, sir," the driver said softly, bringing Steve back to the here and now. Clearing his throat briskly, he nodded his understanding.
"Thanks," he muttered before putting that plastic smile in place and stepping out of the car and onto the red carpet.
The flashes of cameras were blinding, the screams and cries pointless noise. Coolly he buttoned his jacket and waved to the crowd with a devil-may-care grin. The piercing shriek of women rattled his head harshly. Gritting his teeth, he maintained a cool smile as paparazzi descended on him, peppering him with questions – everything from his thoughts on the latest Avengers fight, to who he was wearing tonight.
Flippantly he half-answered, expertly sidestepping uncomfortable issues. He thought he'd been doing rather well, too, right up until one dolled-up woman asked the one question he'd been dreading.
"Where is your date tonight, Mr. Rogers?"
Internally he winced, petulantly wanting to lash out at the women. What the hell did it matter if he had a date or not? Tamping down his anger, he prepared himself to deliver his usual line about being solo and loving it, when suddenly he felt a large, warm hand on his back and a husky, familiar voice spoke.
"Right here, sorry for being late."
Steve felt his spine stiffen in utter shock. What the hell was Tony doing here? Slowly he turned to face the man, and any comment he may have had died on his lips as he got a good look at his "date." The world fell away as they faced one another.
Tony was wearing his dress uniform, circa 1945. Everything meticulously pressed, buttons and medals gleaming, cap perched jauntily on dark locks. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a period film.
"You're here," Steve said breathily, sure this was some sort of hallucination cooked up by his desperate imagination.
"Yes, I'm here," Tony confirmed softly.
The world suddenly returned with a vengeance; the media whipped into a frenzy as people began to scream impossibly louder.
Steve swallowed thickly. "You've done it now," he managed, blue eyes glancing at the reporters, who were still shoving microphones and cameras in their faces.
Tony swayed marginally closer, tilting his cap back as he leaned in. "Not yet, I haven't," he replied moments before pressing his lips against Steve's.
The roar was deafening, but Steve Rogers, billionaire, philanthropist, genius, man of the future… didn't give a flying fuck.
-#-#-#-
Halfway across the city, three superheroes cheered and applauded as they watched the live feed from the Annual Gala; Clint catcalled.
"What's all the commotion?" a new voice asked as Natasha wandered in.
Clint shot her a grin over the couch, "Welcome back."
Thor and Bruce echoed the sentiment as the only female member of the team perched on the couch arm, eyes directed towards the screen. An anchor in a fancy dress was looking at the camera excitedly as the words "Avengers in love," scrolled by below her.
Natasha raised an eyebrow as the camera moved back to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, who were waving to the people. Tony had an arm wrapped around Steve as the crowed very vocally proclaimed their support.
The smallest of smiles twitched the assassin's lips, "Guess I missed some things." She glanced over as Bruce leaned into Clint. "A lot, it would seem."
Thor gestured grandly, "Come, sister in arms. I shall tell you the tale of the love our brethren have forged."
-#-#-#-
"What are you doing here?" Steve asked quietly, eyes darting to see if anyone was within hearing distance.
"I think the real question is why you didn't ask me to come," Tony returned, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Steve looked down and away, "I didn't want… I wasn't sure…" He sighed, unable to voice his own confusion.
"Wasn't sure what?" Tony prompted just as softly.
"That you were ready for… all this," he gestured around them. Tony would have to be blind to miss the looks they were getting. They ranged from rabid interest to morbid fascination to outright disgust.
"For what? Hate? Anger? Fear?" he asked amused.
Steve stared at him a long moment before he sighed, "Yes, I just didn't want to make you do something you were uncomfortable with."
Smiling warmly, Tony leaned in close, "I think I told you once before – no one can make Captain America do what he doesn't want to."
Steve closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the broad shoulder for a heartbeat, "Thank you for being here."
Tony kissed his temple tenderly, "Always."
The sudden warmth that bloomed in his chest at that moment was staggering. With a simple word, given so freely, Steve's heart grew heavy with the weight of the sentiment.
"Come on, I think I need to fleece some business men into giving to the Wounded Warriors Foundation." Tony said as he turned, and Steve finally found his smile.
"You're absolutely right. And if anyone can shame them into it, it's Captain America."
Laughing the pair moved into the crowd proper, both men looking more ready to go to battle.
For the first time in he didn't know how long, Steve was actually enjoying himself. The faces around him were familiar in the sense that he knew who were they were – investors, big money, business people… and yet Tony Stark was taking them to the cleaners. He was actually a little in awe as he watched the man work.
With a smile and well-directed comment, he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. The ladies tittered when he smiled charmingly. And the men… well, who could ever say no to Captain America?
"You've done this before," Steve commented when they had a moment to themselves. Tony sipped a Coca Cola as Steve swirled his Scotch.
Chuckling, the Cap gave him a small salute, "Of course – sold war bonds all over."
Steve grinned at his companion, amused, only half listening as the band picked up again to begin another set. Tony, however, straightened, eyes wide and surprised.
Steve glanced around, "What? What is it?"
Tony wasn't looking at him, his eyes distant and far away, "This song…"
Steve strained to hear, unable to over the din of the partygoers. Suddenly Tony turned to him. Setting their drinks aside, he tenderly grabbed Steve's hand, "Dance with me."
Stunned, the blond allowed himself to be dragged for a moment before he balked, digging in his heels. "No, no way," he hissed, trying to pull away, twisting within the powerful grip.
Tony paused, "Why?"
Steve was suddenly beyond embarrassed as he looked anywhere but those earnest dark eyes. He mumbled quietly at his feet, feeling his cheeks heat.
"Sorry?" Tony tried again, as even his enhanced hearing failed to pick up the whispered confession.
Clearing his throat, his blue eyes darting ceaselessly, Steve finally confessed. "I don't know how to dance."
Tony stared at him, a million questions chasing through his head. Instead of asking them, though, he settled for smiling and gripping Steve's hand a little tighter. "That's just because you've never had the right partner."
The blond man felt his jaw work, unable to come up with any excuse as Tony yanked him through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Expertly the man in uniform turned him and Steve blinked as he settled easily into the strong arms.
"It's easy, I'll lead you," he murmured as he moved and Steve had no choice but to follow. The genius stepped on his toes a couple of times, but Tony just grinned and kept them moving, humming softly, and Steve realized where he'd heard this song before.
"Stars fade but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss…"
Steve smiled softly, "How did you learn to dance so well?"
Tony guided them around the floor, cutting a striking figure in his uniform under the dim lights. Steve felt a pang of jealously cut through him; how many women in small, smoke-filled halls had been here, held so tenderly?
"Howard said every man should know how to dance," Tony said confidently. "He also said every man should know some poetry and play an instrument." He made a face, "I hated the piano."
Steve laughed as the song ended with a flourish. Tony didn't release him, though; he remained perfectly poised, waiting for the next song to begin.
"What about the poetry?" Steve asked, unable to help himself.
Tony smiled as the music started up and he swept them off again, "I always preferred the words of the Bard myself."
Steve smiled, wide and genuine. In all his years attending these horrible things he'd never danced once, yet here with Tony… he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
The Cap looked down at the blond man as Steve rested against him comfortably. Warmth flooded through him and he idly wondered how he'd managed to get so lucky. His mother had once told him that the Lord worked in mysterious ways. After meeting Erskine, being frozen for over half a century, and finally meeting Steve… he figured that was probably true.
"You look like you're thinking awfully hard about something," Steve said softly as he followed him across the floor.
Tony hummed in agreement, "I guess I was."
As the music stopped again, Steve looked up into the soldier's dark eyes. "What about?"
"That some things in life really are worth waiting for," Tony answered honestly.
Steve felt his heart beat harder as emotions welled up, still strangely new to him.
"Think we can sneak out of here?" the blond asked breathlessly.
As he gripped Steve's hand tightly, Tony's smile was filled with all sorts of promises, "Like to see someone try and stop me."