...this is the fic that just kept growing. It was supposed to be 7 chapters long. That didn't last... lol

Epilogue after this!

When Tony was alone in his workshop, he could almost pretend that nothing had happened. He'd thrown together tech for those stupid trackers, so someone would be able to be found. Before anything like...like what happened to him could happen to anyone else. Steve convinced him to sleep every night, and, strangely enough, he could, with Steve next to him. He didn't think about what it said about him that he let the guy that liked him sleep in his bed... needy. user. Manipulator. advantage-taker. But Steve was 'safe.' And if Steve was in between him and the door, then Tony would be safe. He grit his teeth as he slunk upstairs for a shower. Dirty. Still felt dirty. Even after. Too much death, too much destruction, ruin, chaos, blood, hurt—

He let out a little shout as he rounded the corner towards the kitchen and ran into Carol.

"Hey," she said with a small smile as she took a pace backwards.

Tony lowered his hands and offered her a grin that he hoped said 'I'm okay despite my little freak out here, let's just forget that happened, yeah? Just startled—okay bye!'

"What's new?" she asked like there was anything new in Tony's life.

"Nothing. Made something. Gotta go shower." He held up his hands again. "Dirty."

Too much shame.

He skirted Carol with a waggle of fingers and made it to his bathroom, panting. Leaning over the sink he chanced a glance at himself and then dropped his head. Too many shadows on his face. He shuddered. Fuck. This had to end. He stepped into the shower, leaving the clear door open, despite the fact that water would drip all over the floor. Half-way through, he pulled it shut. Clear glass. Shut doors should not scare Iron Man. Right? But his chest felt tight after minutes and when he pressed himself against the chilled tile of the back wall, his vision flashed and he was on the floor. Gasping. Cold tile. Cold concrete. Wounds. Blood. Guilt. Shame. He shook.

That's where Steve found him after the water'd run cold.

Steve slammed the water off and pulled Tony out, pulling him into his lap. "Tony! Jesus! Don't scare me like that! Shit—I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Wrong... thing to say... You're okay. You're safe. It's me. It's just me. It's Steve. I'm right here."

Tony breathed into Steve's t-shirt before letting out a ragged, "Fuck." And then shoved Steve away to stalk naked out of his own damn bathroom and put some damn clothes on. "I'm a grown fucking man," he bit out, not sure if it was to convince himself or Steve. Whoever needed it more, he supposed.

Steve followed. "Tony, you should have come to get me if you needed to shower..."

Steve meant well. God knows Steve meant well. But Tony stopped, fists balling, took a deep breath and went to his closet for a fresh pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt.

"Tony?"
"I don't need a goddamn nanny to shower, Steve!" he snarled over his shoulder. Then cursed. For all his protectiveness, Steve's hurt feelings could be felt from the closet. "Fuuuck, Steve! I didn't mean it! I just..." He pulled the T over his head and slumped in the doorway. "I just... I was... I was fine after..." He swallowed. "After Afghanistan. And now..." Ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes as if that could make it all go away. "I just want to be fine again."

"Tony..." Steve took his hands and pulled him towards the bed. Tony was so tired he let him. "I... And I don't know everything..."

"Goodness forbid."

Steve arched a patient brow at him. "I talked to someone. After I got out of the ice. It was... it is a big adjustment. And I couldn't do it without talking to someone. And talking to you. You helped me through it."

"I talk to you," Tony said, staring at Steve. His brain wasn't caught up yet.

"Yeah. But I think..." Steve paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think that maybe you should talk to someone. You know. Professional. It's not a bad thing! It's just—"

"Steve. Steve. I know talking to a shrink isn't a bad thing. I just... I don't want to." He looked up into Steve's face and then groaned. "I don't want to! It has nothing to do with... I just. Jesus! Stop staring at me like that!" He waved his hands up in the air between them and scooted away. "I don't like it. I can't do it. It doesn't help. I saw enough shrinks as a kid, and none of them did anything that helped."

"Tony," Steve said so gently that Tony had to suppress a flinch. "There's nothing wrong with that. I just... I don't know what to do to help!"

Hands gripping his knees tightly, Tony pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. "I don't know" snuck out, weak and a bit desperate.

Steve pulled him close again, against his chest, solid and warm.

Tony let him.

Just for a little while. Just until... Just until he could breathe on his own and not feel tied to a wooden chair.

He mostly stayed in the Tower for the next two weeks. Steve sleeping in his bed. The trackers went over well. Fury approved them. He went to two meetings, but didn't stay long because everyone treated him like he was made of the same fine China his mother set out for family holidays that consisted mostly of business associates who were as sick of their families as Howard was of his.

The first emergency, Steve had left Tony snug in the bed, a note dropped into his hand to find when he woke. He'd not been pleased. And so hid in his workshop for the next two days. Steve came down with coffee and breakfast, looking extremely contrite and small. Tony forgave him immediately.

"You can't keep me here just because... I mean, I'm better. Don't ground me, Steve—if you do I'll show up anyway," he said, gripping Steve's wrist tight. "I won't be left behind."

Steve rolled his eyes. "We're not leaving you behind. You were sleeping. And you needed the sleep. So I let you sleep. It has nothing...Okay it does have to do with your situation, bu—"

"And stop calling it that!"

"Then what do you want me to call it?" Steve threw up his hands.

"I don't know, Steve. What do you call it in your head!" Tony pushed. Doing something had always helped. And if he couldn't help and be a part of the team, then he really would fall into some sort of manic depression or other psychosis.

"What do I call it?" Steve rocked on his heels. "I call it shell-shock. Though I've been told it's more appropriately 'post-traumatic stress disorder.'"

"Everything's a fucking disorder these days," Tony sneered. "They've got work shift disorder for fuck's sake!"

"What's tha—no. Tony, don't make this something less than what it is! It's a traumatic experience!"

"Gee, ya think!"

"Well you're treating it like something that will just...go away if you don't look at it!" Steve's brow furrowed as his voice got louder.

"It will go away if I just stop looking at it!" Tony shouted back, nerves on fire. Release. Letting go. "And if people stop treating me like I'm going to break! I'm not that fragile!"

"Tony! You're only human! You are fragile!" Steve's eyes widened as he realised what he said. "No, I didn—"

"Shut the hell up, Steve! Don't you dare back down!" Tony snarled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "That's exactly the type of behaviour that I mean!" He ended the sentence with a shove to Steve's chest. Yes. And was even more pleased when Steve looked shocked. "What now? Can't be a little rough because I'm Tony Stark and I was just held captive and tortured?" He snorted. "Not the first time. I got home from Afghanistan and they brought me a wheelchair. I could walk just fine, Steve. I ended weapons-production that. Day. They all said it was because I had just gotten back. Oh Tony's sick still. Fuck that." He was sure the expression on his face was a nasty sort of grin, but it was a grin nonetheless, and he felt a stab of satisfaction at Steve's wide-eyed look. And took a step closer into Steve's space."And you know what, Steve? They all said I was confused and disoriented. But you know what? My head had never been clearer! All I wanted was a fucking American cheeseburger and to stop peoples' suffering because of my products. That was all. ALL. I wanted."

"And what do you want now?" Steve's voice was quiet again, and he looked down at Tony, curious.

A torrent of words expected, Tony stood there, momentum interruptus. Nothing to say. "I want..." He swallowed. "I want no one to ever experience that type of situation again."

Steve nodded, expression softening. "Yeah. Thought so. That's why I love you."

His jaw dropped.

Eyes flying wide, almost panicked, Tony would say, Steve stepped back until he ran into a table and jarred a couple screws, wrenches, and other paraphernalia to the floor. "Shi—"

Tony laughed. And when Steve's panic turned to blatant confusion, he laughed harder, laughing until he bent at the waist, gasping from it. Like a switch turned on he couldn't stop.

"Tony?"

Steve's feet appeared in his peripheral.

Again, "Tony?" But this time, hurt.

And that turned off the switch quickly. "Steve. Oh Steve. I'm not laughing at you. Not laughing at you." He grabbed Steve's wrists and levered himself upright. "You panicked. I've never seen you panic."

Steve still looked panicked, eyes wide, searching. "I didn't..."

"Nah, don't take it back now." Tony gave him a crooked grin. "Love, huh?" And chuckled when Steve turned bright red.

"I don't want..." he said in a small voice, "...to make things...awkward."

Tony snorted. "Steve. You've been sleeping in my bed. You've seen me naked. Crying. Brought me food. I think things are past awkward. In fact, I'd say we've probably been dating for oh..." Tony shrugged. "A while."

Steve gaped.

Tony laughed. "Wow. So this is letting go."

Steve's brows furrowed again. "What are you talking about?"

"Geeze. This is..." Looking up at the ceiling, he sighed. It was like another switch, flipped. "Freeing. It's really freeing."

"I don't... I don't understand."

Tony turned away and sank into a chair, mind whirring away while he looked up at Steve. "I don't know if I understand either."

"What? Tony. What's going on? First you were fighting with me, now... Are we dating?"

He grinned. "I think so." He let Steve sputter some more for about thirty seconds, then said, "I'm still not sure this is such a great idea... 'Cause let's be honest. I think I crash and burn more than I get off the ground."

"That's a terrible metaphor," Steve said faintly, staring at Tony for longer than socially appropriate.

"Fair enough. Never claimed to be a poet. Always better with machines and stuff than words and people."

"But you're great with people," Steve said in that same echoey voice that said he didn't know what was going on.

"No, Steve. I'm great with press people and using people." He bit his lip against the sudden unease that crept in under his relief. "I don't... I don't know how to proceed. Now. 'Cause um... Maybe dinner. Wanna go to dinner? I can get dressed."

"Tony. I just brought you breakfast."

"Forget breakfast. Blink, dammit! Your staring is reaching levels of creepy I've never associated with you before." Steve blinked. "Better. Fine. Lunch? No. Now. Let's go out to breakfast. Too late," he said, glancing at a clock. "Brunch?" He stood.

"Uh..."

"Rogers! Snap out of it!"

Steve shook his head. "Brunch? If you want. I mean, you've not left the Tower for crowded places."

Tony waved it away. "It's been too long. I'm not a coward. I'm not afraid."

"No one said you were, Tony," Steve said gently.

"We're going out," he said with a decisive nod. "We'll take the Jag. And I'm driving. I'll even get dressed. See what I do for you, Rogers?" He felt rewarded as Steve blushed.

"Uh, you don't have to...court me. You know. I already said—"

"I know what you said. But now I've got to earn it!"

"No!"

He jerked and looked at Steve sharply, flinching back when Steve reached towards him.

"No, Tony. You don't have to earn it. That's... that's what love is." Steve reached again and Tony let him take his hands. "Love means that you don't earn it. I just love you." He shrugged. "Just because."

He swallowed. Maybe he was getting sick. After all this... His throat was sore. He swallowed again, looking down at his bare feet. Maybe he should have worn socks. The pavement was kind of chilled. But he liked feeling the floor beneath bare feet.

"Tony?"

"I got it," he said, voice rough. "I just... Fuck." He shook his head and tugged a hand free from Steve's grasp, scrubbing a fist over an eye. "I don't..." Cleared his throat. "Gosh, Steve, you say the sweetest things..." The joke fell flat. So horribly flat. He turned his head away. Steve, bless him. Steve chuckled anyway.

"Mocking me already?" he teased back gently.

Head tilted, Tony brought his eyes up to Steve's chin, far enough to see the signs of a smile. Not far enough to see the blues. But he knew. They wouldn't be judging. They wouldn't be mocking. They wouldn't be scheming. They wouldn't be searching for some crack, some way in.

"Tony?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I want to do this."

"Huh?"

"Making up my mind. I've uh...not really done this before. You know me and serious relationships. It's like we're always the same magnetic pole. Or they, you know, try to kill me. Or want to kill me or..." He snapped his mouth shut. "But I wanna try. And we'll see. I'm not making any promises."

"Not asking for them." Steve's smile grew.

"And I don't know about you, but I don't have any experience with guys. So I'm gonna try that too."

Steve flushed again. "Uh, no. No experience."

"Right. Cool. The internet it is." At Steve's horrified expression, he quickly rushed out, "But we can worry about that later! Geeze. Listen. I'll go get dressed. I'll shower first. And then I'll take you out. I know a great breakfast-brunchy place. Like a real date. And I won't freak out. I'll even sit with my back open."

"I'm sure they'll accommodate and find us a back corner," Steve said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

He made an impatient noise. "It's fine. It'll be fine. You'll see. I'll be fine!"

"Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotionally unstable?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Barton teach you that?"

"How'd you guess?"

He snorted. "Who else would?"

Steve laughed and cupped Tony's hand in his. "Yeah."

"Yeah? So we gonna do this?" He met Steve's eyes and calmed his heart with a slow breath.

Pulling Tony closer, Steve settled their linked hands over his heart. "I'd really like to."

Tony nodded. "Good. Good. That's good." And then grinned widely, thinking things would be okay. Things might just be okay. He would live. And he would deal. He would go out. Be okay in crowds again. Be okay in the field again. Sleep normally in a bed again. "I'll be fine again."

Steve smiled and pulled Tony closer, pressing his lips to his forehead, his free hand settling in the small of Tony's back.

And it was fine. Not weird. Not uncomfortable. Different. He was used to being the taller one. But this was fine. He smiled and pulled away. "I'm gonna go shower. Then we'll go. Get dressed." He skirted passed Steve and then paused, cocked his head and then grabbed a handful of Steve's ass, getting a choked shriek for his efforts. He cracked up and darted to the elevator to take him back up to the top floor, sticking his tongue out at Steve as he dashed for the door. Steve made it in the door, and as he backed Tony into the corner, he didn't even feel claustrophobic. It was going to be just fine. He smiled as their lips met for the first time.