Fury had called him in for a mission, which was altogether inconvenient because he and Sharon had planned a date night and he'd had to cancel on her. He didn't feel as bad as he always had with Tony when he told her he was leaving for an out-of-town conference for physical trainers (the feeble but pretty believable fake-job he'd supplied for Tony, and then later for Sharon as well). He'd be taking another trainer he worked with named Barton, and they'd be off in Missouri for three days.

So here he was, with Clint on a Switzerland rooftop hunting down Anton Veznikov and Marcel Herbert, two black market arms dealers about to strike a deal, both with ties to separate crime syndicates. Not exactly what he'd told Sharon he'd be doing, but at least he had the Barton part right.

Gravel and grime bit into his elbows as he waited with Clint at his side, both their heads just barely peaking over the building's edge to keep an eye on the rendezvous point. They were closing in on one hour of waiting here – a common SHIELD precaution in case targets arrived early.

"So I was talking to Nat," Clint started, his quiet voice jarring in the relative silence. "She said you've been kinda down – that guy you've been seeing, Tony, is he alright?"

Steve didn't take his eyes from the street down below, but he did blink. What a loaded question – one Steve avoided thinking about every single day. Steve had no idea if Tony was alright. Tony could be kicking back somewhere in the Bahamas right now. Or he could have just been stabbed to death by a hoard of ruthless lackies somewhere in Canada. He had no clue, and no way of finding out, and that terrified him.

Steve sighed. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

We're not – together anymore. Now I'm with this girl – Sharon. She's nice."

"Shit, put that enthusiasm away."

Steve frowned. "Sharon's wonderful, I didn't mean – but yes, Tony and I are over. It's still kind of a –"

"– tough subject?"

He let out a breath. "Pretty much."

"Sorry about that."

"S'fine."

There was silence as they both gazed out at the street, heads rested in their folded arms, and waited for something to happen. Clint sighed.

"Junior agents should be on this shit. How'd we go from divine aliens to low-grade mafia detail?"

Steve's brows furrowed. "Divine aliens?"

Thou shalt not ask about each other's missions, Steve thought to himself, but Clint didn't seem to care too much at the moment. "Yeah, you know we got some serious shit going down in New Mexico?"

Steve had heard the gist: a small town had gotten itself leveled by some off-the-wall supernatural occurrence? SHIELD handled lots of situations that ranked at least an 8.5 on his Weird Shit-O-Meter, so Steve hadn't really looked into it, having been preoccupied and all.

"Yeah, what happened?"

Steve could hear the smirk in Clint's voice. "A god, from another planet, showed up in some tiny town, made it obvious he wasn't from around here, then blew it up. I came in as soon as I could, got to meet the guy's brother who showed up later – he noticed me perched, dunno how, and offered me some kind of supernatural deal. I'm pretty sure he's where legends about Faustian contracts come from."

Steve's eyes widened, and he took a second to let that soak in. "Think they've visited Earth before?"

Clint shrugged. "They seemed familiar enough with this place to bet safely on yes."

Steve sighed, his gut churning from a combination of overwhelming, apocalyptic dread and that exasperation you get when you spill coffee on your pants. "We're dealing with angry gods now?"

"Well, not dealing – you'll be glad to know I turned down his offer."

Steve chuckled. "What was his offer?"

There was a tiny, uncomfortable pause where Steve was sure he'd just crossed some invisible line – a sensation that reminded him so much of Tony that he ached. Then Clint just shrugged easily.

"He offered to bring my brother back to life."

He frowned, then turned to look at him.

"Well I'm glad you didn't take him up on that."

Clint snickered, and their targets arrived soon after. Two successive, silenced shots thunked out, blood and grey matter sprayed the ground, and two bodies dropped to the cobblestone. Steve and Clint bounded away from the building in opposite directions, taking all traces of their presence with them. They made a good team, him and Clint.

About a week after Steve's conversation with Bruce it became, at least in part, a nonissue.

Not that Tony suddenly stopped closing himself off when Steve mentioned parents or California, but Steve made him dinner one night – steak and potatoes – and while Tony was very vocal about his appreciation as he shoveled food into his mouth at a nearly nauseating pace, he seemed distracted. Steve, consuming his own at a more reasonable speed, was about to ask him what was on his mind when Tony's fork clanked down into his plate, and his boyfriend leaned forward in his chair to look Steve dead in the eyes.

"This is fantastic food. I think we should take this to the bedroom."

Steve blinked, and Tony kept talking.

"I mean, not the food, I meant – we should take our persons, to the bedroom. Maybe Tupperware the food, save it for later?"

Steve's mouth, luckily food-free, fell open. "U-uh, sure. Yeah. We'll – are you sure?"

Tony nodded, eyes dark and piercing. "Oh yes."

Steve felt his own pulse pick up speed, and he felt warm all over. He swallowed. "Positive?"

Tony rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Yes, baby."

Steve stood and walked around the table to Tony, kneeling so they were at eye level. Tony's eyes were clouded with heat and his breath was just uneven enough to tell Steve all he needed to know. He leaned forward, pressing his lips into Tony's.

It was instant, a furnace tipping over and flooding molten heat into Steve's body. He reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Tony's neck to pull him closer, and Tony growled and folded against Steve like he was made to be there. The kiss deepened into something wicked and delicious, and Steve could smell and taste nothing but Tony now.

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony's middle and pulled them up and flush against each other, and Tony arched and god, there was nothing better than this. He pulled back just long enough to pull Tony down the hall and into the bedroom, but it was far too long to be apart. He captured Tony' lips back with his own, lowering his lover down onto the bed underneath him. He groaned at the sensation of Tony's body, pressed flush and hot against his own.

He slipped a leg in between Tony's and ground down, the heat jumping up ten notches when Tony gasped and moaned into his mouth. Tony was hard and pulsing under him, body breathless and pliant. He couldn't wait to unravel him, bit by bit.

Steve's hands moved almost of their own accord, reaching under Tony's shirt and dragging his fingers up Tony's stomach. Tony shivered underneath him, his mouth slipping open. Steve kept his lips on Tony's, tongue dipping into his mouth, their hips slotting together with aching heat.

Tony's hands moved then, blazing scorched trails up Steve's sides as he tried his damnedest to rip Steve's shirt off. Steve pulled it over his head, and Tony dove upward to plant his lips on Steve's neck. He let out a choked breath, back arched, and his eyes slid closed as he ran fingers through Tony's thick hair. Hands and lips and tongue explored Steve's neck and chest and stomach, tiny fiery bursts of pleasure that went straight to Steve's dick.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he grabbed Tony by the shoulders and pressed him back into the covers. He licked a stripe up Tony's throat, coaxing a groan out of him before attacking his mouth again. For the smallest second, his peeked up from underneath the clouds of heat, and he pulled back long enough to meet his eyes.

"Is this okay?"

Tony looked completely fucked –eyes black with lust, lips red and swollen, breath leaving him in hot pants – but he looked surprised at the question. Then his beautiful features split into a wide grin, and he reached up to steal another kiss.

"A-okay, soldier. Do your worst."

Steve frowned and shook his head, lowering himself down until his face was an inch from Tony's. He brushed a thumb down his cheek and kept his voice firm.

"No, I'm gonna do my best. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

He reached down between them, his hand dipping down past Tony's waistline and around his dick, and he smiled when Tony bucked into his hand.

"Ah – Steve Rogers, you are – fuck, a work of God."

His voice shook, and Steve worked his hand a little faster, thumb pressing up against the tip. Tony moaned and arched up into Steve's body, his breath quaking.

"Steve…"

He leaned down to kiss him, swallowing the sounds Tony made as he moved his hand faster, pressed a little harder. Tony growled as he gathered his own shirt up in two fistfuls and yanked it over his own head. Their clothes piled up on the floor one by one until Steve was staring down at Tony, naked and flushed and breathless underneath him.

The first time Tony had taken his shirt off for him, it had been hard to swallow down the shock; scars littered Tony's back and shoulders and chest, all thick and jagged and blunt and thin and discolored. Tony's body told a story Steve would never know – posed a whole book of questions he'd never find answers to. And after Steve's conversation with Bruce, those scars only grew more foreboding as the possibilities narrowed down. And Steve would never know for sure.

But Steve was coming to terms with that; Tony had survived, and he was here with him now. Steve would never let anything else happen to him. That was all that mattered.

Steve made his way down Tony's body, kissing every scar he could get his hands on. Tony squirmed and made small breathless noises until he had Tony's hips in his hands. He placed a tender kiss on the middle of his shaft, making it pulse. Then he met Tony's eyes darkly before he wrapped his mouth around him.

Tony cried out, hands coming up to twist in Steve's hair while he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. He closed his eyes, memorizing this feeling and listening to Tony's broken moans. After a minute or two he pulled off, looking up at Tony.

"Are you ready for lube?"

For the smallest moment, Tony looked anxious. Then more lust replaced that look, and he nodded.

"Okay." He reached under the bed, fingers closing around a small bottle and a square package. He smiled up at Tony, pulling up the lube and condom before swallowing him whole again. Tony gasped as he threw his head back. He rose and fell and rose again, sucking him off while he poured oil out onto his hands. He kept his touches soft and light, kept Tony distracted while he stretched him slowly. Tony wriggled a little in discomfort, but Steve hollowed his cheeks and took him in all the way, and Tony sighed and became pliant under him again. Once he was able to get two fingers, he curled them.

Like clockwork, Tony screamed and arched off the bed, fingers tightening in Steve's hair under the double onslaught. He pulled him in deeper while he stretched him wider, his cries sending waves of heat through Steve's body. Finally he pulled back, kissing his way up Tony's chest again.

"Are you ready?"

Tony looked him dead in the eye, and behind layers of black lust he saw determination there.

"Yes."

Steve nodded. "Okay."

He lined himself up and slid in, inch by inch, ignoring the tight heat and watching Tony's expression closely. Once he was in to the hilt he stayed there, resolutely not shaking from the effort it took to keep still.

After a few deep breaths, Tony spoke in a low whisper. "Move."

He obeyed, strokes slow and shallow at first, and Steve groaned. It felt amazing, hot and tight and better than he'd ever imagined it could. He thrusted deeper and faster, and he saw it on Tony's face the moment he hit it. Tony screamed, eyes wide and body trembling, and his hands fisted into the sheets at his sides.

"Steve – oh god, fuck, Steve –"

He slammed frantically inside him, pushing faster and harder and deeper until Tony arched and gasped and cried underneath him, clinging and shaking and soclosecoclosecoclose –

"God, Tony!"

He held on by a thread, sweet wet heat licking every inch of him while he listened to Tony's strangled moans and torn whimpers as he begged forharder Steve please oh god yes more faster Steve more please more –

His lips closed in on Tony's neck while pushed desperately into him, slamming harder and harder and just seconds from the edge. He pressed his lips to Tony's ear, and his voice came out in a broken whisper.

"I want you to come for me, baby."

One last strangled keen, and then Tony's eyes rolled back and his whole body jerked, pressing back against Steve inside him. Steve thrusted frantically into him one, two more times before he followed, arching into Tony and crying his name.

The white spots faded from Steve's vision after a couple minutes, leaving him and Tony panting and nuzzled in each other's arms. Their bodies were sticky with sweat and cum, but Steve couldn't remember ever having been happier than in this moment. He shifted and saw that Tony was grinning at him lazily, looking on the verge of sleep. Relief him out of nowhere, and he realized he'd been terrified of how Tony might react once it was all over. Steve let out a grin that he couldn't have hoped to tamper down, and reached a hand up to stroke his cheek.

"Come on now, we can't hit the hay yet. We gotta get cleaned up."

Tony closed his eyes, smile still in place. His voice was hoarse. "Mmm. Shower?"

Steve kissed his forehead. "Yes, shower."

Tony's eyes slipped open and pinned Steve in place. He loved those eyes. He would stare into them forever if he could. Tony reached up and ran a hand through Steve's hair.

"I think I found your calling, Steven."

He laughed. "What, sex?"

"A good ninety percent of the globe would pay top dollar for your services. Shit, that was amazing."

Steve smiled and kissed him. He wanted to have this moment on video, remember every word. "I'm delighted to hear it. I won't be selling myself for cash, but I'm sure you and I can work something out for future appointments."

Tony beamed and pulled him closer,his voice gaining some energy back at that offer. "I'll take you up on that. Starting with shower sex."

Steve chuckled and smiled at him. All the fear, the doubt, the boundaries had melted and Steve felt a hundred pounds lighter. That had been the best sex he'd ever had. He wanted to put that breathtaking, thousand-watt smile on Tony's face every single day.

"Alright, let's just – take a breather, you know, recharge the batteries." He stretched in an exaggerated show of luxury.

"Hah! No can do boyo, up and at 'em! Let's get clean."

After he called Sharon to let her know he'd be back in town from his Missouri bullshit conference, he stepped into SHIELD HQ to report. Clint had already come in a couple hours ago, but Steve had opted to shower and wash the sweat-and-gunpowder smell out of his pores as best he could. He and Sharon had agreed to catch a movie once he got off his fake-bullshit-Missouri plane.

Fury was getting weird, and Steve wasn't sure if it was because of the still-missing hacker or, possibly, the apocalyptic god situation he had on his hands. Steve was shocked that every agent in the organization hadn't been formerly briefed on what Clint told him up on that rooftop; if a relatively innocuous hacker called for all hands on deck, then the New Mexico incident called for hands, feet, and any other extremity available in Steve's book.

He knocked the reinforced steel door three times, waiting for permission to enter. He stood at attention until Fury ordered him to take a seat. The director wasted no time and leaned forward in his swivel chair.

"So why is it that you have not yet reported on this hacker business?"

Steve kept calm, and met Fury's eyes. "He's stayed elusive. Romanoff and I are doing our best to track down his whereabouts, but as of now we can't do much other than wait."

Fury looked unimpressed. "We have a name. How can you not track him down when we know who he is?"

"We've combed through every database we have…and Tony Stark doesn't exist. We don't know when, but at some point in his life he made himself a ghost. If he's operating under any identity at all, it's not under Tony Stark."

As much as it hurt, he was thankful in moments like these, with Fury's heavy glare pressing on him, that Tony Edwards never told Steve where he'd planned to run to before he stormed out of his apartment kitchen. As much as it terrified Steve not knowing where Tony was or what was happening with him, it made it easier to lie to Fury's face and not put him in further danger.

"We have an original name, there is no way in pluperfect hell that two of my top agents have not yet managed to retrieve a motherfucking pseudonym to track down! What the fuck have you and Romanov been doing all this time, playing footsie?"

Steve bit his tongue, and took a deep breath. "We have been working with the information we have. Which, sir, is next to nothing. We have a name that has been cleaned out from every government and corporate file in America, we have the patterns we observed when he was hacking our servers, and that's it. We cannot find him until we get a lead, and we won't get a lead until he hacks something else."

"Then set a trap, make him hack something! We know his patterns and what he's interested in, set a motherfucking trap and apprehend this bastard! This is the longest duration of time SHIELD has ever taken to neutralize a threat!"

Something in Steve snapped. "We never confirmed that he was a threat, sir."

Fury glared. "Excuse me?"

Steve took a silent, deep breath. "Tony Stark was never confirmed as a threat to SHIELD, only implied to be one. If SHIELD were to choose to neutralize him upon locating him, we could lose a valuable potential addition to our forces."

Fury stood, actually managing to make Steve's breath hitch for a second. Fury walked slowly around his desk until he was looming over Steve, his expression livid.

"Agent, you are here to execute SHIELD orders. Tony Stark has infiltrated SHIELD firewalls and compromised its secrets. You have killed men,unhesitatingly, for less."

Steve held his head high, refusing to cower but also not saying anything. Fury's eyes stabbed through him.

"You should do well to remember what happens to SHIELD enemies. It's best not to give any of us here a reason to doubt you, Captain."

Steve looked him in the face then, anger lighting him up. "Are you threatening me, Director?"

Fury held his gaze. "Not necessarily. I'm reminding you that you have a job, and a sworn duty do that job."

When he finally met up with Sharon an hour later for movie night, he smiled as best he could and wrote off her concern at his nauseated expression, claiming he was just tired. He didn't remember what the movie was about – his mind was churning at a million miles an hour, corrosive worry for Tony and for himself making it impossible to concentrate. He remembered Bucky's disapproving frown every time Steve talked about rising to the top at SHIELD, remembered him warning Steve to be careful, that this shit was dangerous. He'd always assumed Buck was talking about the missions.

Fury would try to keep him there, and would order him to kill Tony if SHIELD ever managed to track him down. And if Steve disobeyed, he'd become just another target that his friends would be forced to neutralize. Two more heads turned inside out, grey matter splashed on concrete. He and Tony wouldn't even see it coming.

But fuck if Steve would ever let that happen. He'd make sure SHIELD never found Tony Stark, even if that meant Steve would never lay eyes on him again.