A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who left feedback and followed/fav'd.
The change in atmosphere was instant when they entered the hospital wing. There were no scurrying agents, no echoing shouts, not even any one sided bits of conversation between agents and their comms. The only sounds were the low thrumming and whirring of machinery, possibly only audible due to his enhanced hearing, and the murmur of whispered conversation between Clint and Bruce seated in the far corner of the waiting area.
Bruce stood immediately upon seeing them. Steve couldn't help but notice the worry on the scientist's face. His brow was furrowed; the lines around his eyes tight and an obvious, anxious pull to his lips before he spoke.
"He's being taken into surgery, no other word yet." There was no indication in his tone of how bad things were, so he figured they would just have to wait it out. To say Bruce was stressed would be an understatement, but he appeared to be in control, which was very good because he was most likely the only one of them capable of understanding most of the finer detailed medical terminology and its implications. Steve knew Bruce and Tony were both scientists, and where Tony's expertise centered on mathematics and machines, Bruce was more of a physicist, but who, as far as Steve could tell, also had a vast working knowledge of biology and other organic things. The wet sciences Tony had said once, and Steve didn't really want to think too much about what that meant. And hadn't Natasha mentioned finding him treating the sick in India?
Clint was still seated, back bowed with his elbow on his knee and his forehead resting in the palm of his hand. His face was unreadable, but there was a slight tremble in his fingers. Steve could feel the tension and the anger rolling off the archer, and was glad when Natasha sped by him taking the seat next to Clint and rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades.
Steve felt like he should speak; like everyone was waiting for him to say something, to explain himself and hopefully ease the tension, but if not, then at least to address the elephant in the room.
"I—I'm…" he stammered and looked away from his teammates. He took a steadying breath, looked back to Natasha for support, unspeakably grateful for her tiny nod in return, and tried again. "I did this, and I accept full responsibility…and I'm sorry, I never meant for this to happen, never wanted to really hurt him." Sure, he had wanted to shut Tony up, make him regret the things he was saying. Instead, Steve had completely lost control, Tony was in surgery, Clint looked ready to kill him, and he wasn't man enough at the moment to even try to imagine what Pepper's reaction to him would be, never mind Col. Rhodes.
Clint sat up straight and brushed Natasha's hand away. "Yeah, well, you did!" The suppressed rage in his features was evident in his voice as well, but his mannerisms and body language were composed as he stood. "There is nothing you can say right now that will make this okay. No justification you can offer, or that we want to hear."
"Clint, hey," Bruce put a hand on the archer's arm as he moved towards Steve. They all needed to stay calm right now, the two other men in the room as much as himself. Natasha was always calm, at least outwardly.
"It's okay Dr. Banner. I deserve his censure, and yours too, but right now that won't help Tony." He shifted awkwardly, trying and failing not to glance at Clint, who looked just as livid as expected. He would deal with that later, like so many other things. Looking back to Bruce, he continued with his earlier train of thought. "Can you shed any light on the situation at all based on what you saw?"
"Well, I would guess some bones are fractured, but we'll have to wait and see about possible nerve damage or brain injury." Bruce knew how severe facial traumas of this nature could be, but he didn't want to scare his teammates unnecessarily. Steve had hit Tony hard and speculating about the worst case scenario results of that would probably lead to Clint losing the very fragile reign he had over his self control.
Worrying about someone else, one of the good guys, losing control and doing irreparable damage was something new and different for the doctor. He absolutely did not want to revisit the smug moment he'd had earlier at realizing someone else affected with the super-soldier serum, even someone as earnest and good as Steve, could lose it like that. He'd felt pretty guilty afterwards for even entertaining the thought.
Thankfully he was spared any further reflection by the arrival of a doctor. She wasn't the same one who had spoken to them before Tony went into surgery, but he would take news from anyone right now.
She looked pointedly at all four of them before speaking, lingering on the unbridled tension visible in every line of Clint's body. "He's in surgery, and will be for a while longer." She paused and waited for that to register before continuing, probably not wanting to get anyone's hopes up. "The soft tissue damage is extensive but secondary. Radiographs show four prominent facial fractures, but the cervical spine appears to be intact, which is very good news with injuries of this nature. Also, he is most likely concussed, at least, but there don't appear to be signs of lasting brain damage. We'll know more about that once he's conscious." Clint visibly sagged with relief hearing that they seemed sure Tony would regain consciousness.
"We've called in an oral and maxillofacial specialist who will be arriving any minute. Until he has a chance to examine Mr. Stark, I'm afraid I can't comment on the severity of his other injuries. I highly recommend you all get something to eat, and maybe clean up and rest a bit, it'll be a few hours at least before he's out of the O.R. and I have anything else to report."
Steve watched the doctor's retreat and waited until the door closed behind her before turning to the others. Natasha's lips formed a tiny and uncharacteristic 'o' of surprise, Bruce was rubbing his eyes and slowly shaking his head, no doubt running through a list of the possible "other injuries" mentioned by the doctor, and Clint looked downright vicious. The urge to vomit was back again, this time stronger than ever. His inability to control himself had led to this. He was the one who couldn't stop himself from kissing his friend in the first place. He was the one who pushed for things to go further and further between them as he explored intimacy, learning the wonders of sex. He was the one who had put that look on Tony's face earlier and then broken that same face only a short time later. He could have caused spinal injuries and possibly had caused brain damage and all of it because he had no self control when it came to Tony Stark.
Whatever he planned to say to the others was lost now, but it didn't really matter, what could he say? What words, what other explanations, could possibly be of use right now?
"We should debrief." Of course it was Natasha who spoke first. "Steve and I can do this if you don't feel up to it Dr. Banner. Clint, go home, clean up and I'll meet you there in an hour." Hawkeye looked ready to protest, but at the severe look on his fellow assassin's face he capitulated and walked away.
"Yeah, I'll head back too," Bruce said, picking at a spot of slimy grey ooze on his shoulder. "I want to analyze this stuff, see if JARVIS has anything…and I think I should call Ms. Potts." He turned to follow Clint, leaving Steve alone with Natasha in the overly bright room.
The debrief was possibly his shortest one yet. Fury read him the riot act about Tony, rightfully so, but he let Natasha move the session along so they could get back. Most of their team was absent, and the gooey, disgusting creatures they had battled this morning went down without much of a fight. Whoever created and let loose the foul creatures, however, was still at large. Fury had people working on that already, and until they had access to Tony's and JARVIS' scans and Dr. Banner's analysis there wasn't much to do about it at the moment. He said goodbye to Natasha, knowing she was headed back to join up with Clint, and she didn't push for him to tag along. He would clean up here, there were a change of clothes and a shower in the locker room, and he could grab something to eat in the mess hall—cafeteria.
He was alone now, something he had been looking forward to and dreading at the same time for hours. Entering the changing room, he stripped off his slimy uniform, stepped into the shower and let his thoughts run free at last. They immediately went to where this whole debacle began; his run in with Agent Bennett—Claire. They'd been talking by phone nearly every day for more than a week, and also enjoying coffee breaks and strolls through HQ together. It wasn't much, but it seemed like it could be the beginning of something, a courtship maybe. This morning she had wished him luck in the field and kissed him for the first time. It had felt like the time Private Lorraine kissed him, forced and hurried and…interrupted. That time Peggy had walked in on them and this time it had been Tony. It was like déjà vu; the unexpected kiss and even more unexpected interruption, and the anger aimed at him afterwards.
He had much more kissing experience now, and wasn't as easily overwhelmed. That should have made his first kiss with a woman since waking up in this century wonderful, but it had felt…odd. Maybe that's because it was at S.H.I.E.L.D where anyone could see them and not someplace they could linger, or maybe it's because he was, once again, caught off guard by it. He was hoping that kissing a woman now would feel a lot like kissing Tony had, wild and amazing, leaving him breathless and often dazed. If something as sinful as kissing another man had felt that good, he expected it to be even better when it was natural, as God intended.
He thought back to his first kiss with the genius, the first kiss he had ever initiated. When it ended and he'd practically fled the room, he had touched his lips over and over for a very long time. He recalled perfectly the tingling sensation that had stayed with him all through that evening, a warm, luxurious feeling that had made it impossible to leave them alone.
He had never once begrudged any of his men for letting off steam with another fella. He didn't condone it exactly and never did so himself, until recently that is. But if he was painfully honest with himself, he had to admit that he had looked a little and listened a lot to some of the illicit things going on around him. Maybe it was the act of committing a sin itself that was so thrilling, he had always toed the church line when it came to morality. He did swear on occasion, an inevitable consequence of being a soldier, but he did try to be good. Meeting Tony had changed a lot of that, he was unapologetic for his lifestyle and he exuded sexuality without even trying. It was something Steve never imagined he'd get caught up in, but his body traitorously reacted to his friend's harmless flirting often. He had never indulged the way Bucky or the rest of his men had, before the serum no one would really have him, and then he'd met Peggy Carter, and she was certainly worth waiting for. Now, though, there was no reason to wait, and his close friend was a master at no strings attached affairs.
Their trysts had been confusing to him at first, but, honestly, what wasn't in this new time? It had been so exciting, felt so good, and made him feel truly alive in a way he never had before. He figured if there was one person who would not judge him for a slip in morality, it would be Tony Stark.
Tony had explained so many things to him about this future; from the internet and cell phones to TiVo and the microwave. It was Natasha who tried to bring him up to speed on social changes, though, everything from equal rights for women and African Americans to some states allowing homosexual couples to marry. She explained about people who were bisexual, most likely because he'd had a few questions on the subject. He still figured any guy who liked women would chose one over a man any day though. In his experience all the men he had ever known to consort with someone of the same gender had never actually sought anything like a permanent relationship.
There were policy changes in the military she told him about, but not so much in the church. Many people now, she said, had sexual relations before they were married, multiple times even, and with multiple partners. It was a lot to take in, too many changes to absorb in such a short time, but over the past few months he had done some research on the internet. During those searches he read a lot about Tony and his casual attitude towards sex, his multitude (Steve had no desire to know the exact number) of partners and his complete lack of shame about it. That seemed the total opposite of the Tony from this morning.
"Are you—are you seeing that woman Steve? Is there something you wanted to tell me, or were you planning to keep it a secret? Oh, wait—I get it, I'm the dirty little secret, right? The back room fuck no one needs to know about. Just another person using Tony Stark, sure, go ahead, he's only good for some brilliant math or a great lay anyways. No wonder you and my bastard of a father got along so well. He could never shut the hell up about you, and surprise, surprise, like father, like lab rat because you're just like him. Who the hell cares about how Tony feels? He's smart; he'll get over it, right? He's always such a disappointment, he doesn't deserve to be loved, or be in love, right? Well, fuck you both Steve. I love you, but I won't bend over backwards anymore to earn anything from you like I did with him, the complete dickhead of a bully you can't seem to go one day without glorifying. I thought you hated bullies Steve, hated to see the smaller guy get the shit end of the stick all the time. Christ, the two of you deserve each other…maybe you should have been fucking him…
When Tony got going he could be unstoppable, it was abrasive and nearly impossible to get a word in. Lately Steve had learned how to launch a preemptive strike, kissing the inventor deep and hard before he could build up momentum, distracting the genius, and more often than not, himself. Sometimes though, like today, he spewed such vitriol that punching him seemed so much more attractive than kissing him, something had needed to be done to make it stop. Obviously the outcome wasn't what he intended. In hindsight the memory was even more upsetting; he hadn't imagined the brief flashes of deep hurt on the hero's face before they were quickly covered over with that hateful arrogant persona, and he also hadn't imagined the faceplate on the armor sliding over Tony's face as the last horrible taunt about Howard had been uttered. Why, then, had he raised it again? Apparently he had more to say on the subject.
He had thought about what it would mean if he started going steady with Agent Bennett, knew what he and Tony did together would have to stop, it wouldn't be fair to her, no matter what liberties other people took in this oversexed century. It was clear to him now that Tony had a problem with that, but what could he do? Isn't that what this casual sex thing was all about? Once you found someone special the other stuff had to stop right? If not, wasn't that still considered cheating? God this whole thing was confusing.
To add to his confusion Agent Bennett scurried up to him in the corridor on his way grab a quick bite to eat.
"Captain, how wonderful to see you again," She said politely, smiling and placing her small hand on his forearm. On any other day he would be happy to see her too, but there was so much going on inside his head that he knew he wouldn't be good company right now. Then again, none of this was her fault, it was his alone, and it would be rude to walk away from her. He had a little time to eat before heading back to the hospital wing, and maybe she was exactly the distraction he needed from the riot in his brain.
It wasn't quite that easy.
Nothing in her pretty face, kind words, or subtle come-ons helped assuage his guilt or worry. She knew that Tony was hurt but seemingly had no idea of the particulars. He ate as quickly as he could without seeming like he was rushing and nearly the moment he finished chewing the last bite he apologized for having to leave, mentioned he would probably see her the following day and excused himself to head back up to the infirmary.
Pepper Potts was in the waiting area, pacing in front of the double doors the doctor had come through earlier, talking to someone on her phone. She was a vision of efficiency and grace on any given day, and today was no different. Her long golden ponytail swayed and bobbed as she walked, and when she turned to retrace her steps she caught sight of Steve just inside the room. He wasn't prepared for a confrontation with her just yet, but it was unavoidable and he didn't believe in shying away from things, he believed in meeting them head on. It was one of the traits Dr. Erskine had chosen him for in the first place.
"Okay, as soon as radio silence can be broken please let him know and have him call me," She said quietly, and then her phone was gone. He had no idea where it went, her purse was on a chair six feet away, and the slender suit she wore didn't look like it allowed an inch of spare material to hide even something as slim as her cell phone. The look on her face made it crystal clear he would have to ponder her fashion secrets some other time.
"You're not exactly the model of self restraint I expected." Her tone was steely and her eyes were a blue blaze. "I can tell by looking at you just how sorry you are, but that doesn't mean I can forgive you, at least not right now."
"Ms. Potts," He began lamely then trailed off, because what on earth could he say?
"Save it, Captain." She straightened her spine, standing even taller.
He knew she was a force to be reckoned with, often the only person who could bend Tony's will, make him leave the self imposed exile of his workshop or attend meetings he was want to skip "for the sake of science", as he phrased it. Steve also knew the history between the two; that they had gone from coworkers to friends to lovers and back to friends, sharing a bond now that anyone would envy. Tony had explained once that Pepper was like a best friend and sister combined, but only the very best of each, "and, you know, no actual blood relation, which is good because no incest or anything weird like that," he had joked.
They protected each other, knew one another inside and out and loved each other deeply. Their intimate relationship had ended mutually, both of them realizing it wasn't meant to be and ending it before either one could feel bitter or resentful, resulting in an even stronger friendship being forged because of it. This brought him back to the very defensive woman glaring at him now.
"I don't want to hear your reasons or your apologies. I've been brought up to speed on today's events by people I trust a hell of a lot more than you right now. Though the person I would most like to talk about this with is currently unable because he's in surgery." Finally she looked away, releasing his gaze, and turned towards the row of chairs against the wall.
When she turned to face him again, she was pinching the bridge of her nose. "He's incredibly brave, Captain, but equally as fragile. You have no idea of the damage you've done, do you?"
"Well, the doctor sa—" the forceful step she took in his direction interrupted him before she'd uttered a word.
"I said save it. That was a rhetorical question, and not what I was referring to anyhow." She shook her head as she moved towards the chairs again, this time actually sitting in one. "The whole wounded animal look you have going on tells me you didn't intend to hurt him, but I can't sit this vigil with you. Please leave Captain. I assure you someone will contact you when he's out of surgery."
He couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear, so at the very least he could do as she asked. Without a word he turned and left the room.
He hadn't felt this alone since the first few days out of the ice.
The internal debate over whether or not to return to the tower had taken almost thirty minutes. He argued, to himself, that he wasn't up to seeing Clint right now. He wasn't running away, he knew he deserved anything his teammate could throw at him, and he would stand there and take it. But there would come a day when the archer might regret something said in the heat of the moment. Steve had first hand experience with that guilt. The things he had said to Tony on the helicarrier that day had bothered him for a long time afterwards. He couldn't place the blame on Loki's spear alone. He had been disappointed with the younger Stark from the very beginning, and the only thing he had done wrong was to be nothing like his father. That disappointment had faded as he got to know Tony, but he would never be able to take back the terrible things he had said. For Clint's own sake Steve thought it was better to wait for him to calm down so the marksman never had to live with that kind of regret hanging over him.
On the other hand, the hour Natasha had allotted was up and Clint most likely wasn't in the tower anymore. Steve really wanted to work out, release some of his pent up anger and tension. He could do that here at headquarters, but he had the feeling at least 10-15 bags would go down during his workout and he always felt guilty about that kind of expense. The bag Tony had made for him was incredible, still nearly pristine even after months of abuse. He wanted to be alone too; something that was not a guarantee in the tower gym, but much less so here, and that pretty much solved his problem. He would go home and punch that bag until he couldn't anymore, till his legs could barely support him and his arms wanted nothing more than to hang limply at his sides, until he was too tired to think about the mess he'd made of things recently, and how badly he had hurt his friend.
Two hours after he started his assault on the heavy bag, and more than four since he'd left Natasha at HQ, the cold British voice sounded in the room around him.
"Miss Potts has just notified me that Sir is out of surgery. She has asked that I inform you of his condition."
Steve moved his hands to the sides of the bag and leaned his forehead against it as he took a few steadying breaths in preparation for what he was about to hear. He had the distinct impression that JARVIS would be judging him based on his reaction.
"Surgery was done to repair a fracture of the mandible at the ramus. There were complications that lengthened Sir's time in the operating room, but those have been resolved. A titanium compression plate was chosen as the best fixed option. Resin arch bars were placed and joined for maxillo-mandibular fixation. Sir will not be able to open his mouth for a period of no less than three weeks."
Steve wasn't completely unfamiliar with treatment for a broken jaw, despite JARVIS seemingly trying to make him feel obtuse. He'd never had one, amazingly enough with all of his back alley fights, but had seen his fair share of soldiers who did. Usually it was the lesser of their other injuries, but it meant wiring the jaw closed. He couldn't imagine Tony not really speaking for weeks, the idea was unfathomable. Tony talked all the time, constantly, even when he had nothing to say, or no one to say it to, even more concerning were the complications JARVIS referred to. He was so absorbed with what had possibly gone wrong with Tony that he almost missed JARVIS continuing.
"Sir also sustained fractures to both the lateral and inferior orbital rims. It is uncertain whether or not eyesight in his left eye has been affected, though blindness occurring from this type of injury is uncommon. Also present is a smaller fracture of the zygoma. Again, titanium plates have been used, along with bone grafts and soft tissue resuspension to repair the damage. The wounds have been sutured and dressed; healing time is approximately three to four weeks."
Okay, round two went to JARVIS, that one he would have to look up.
Steve waited a moment to see if there was more. After a respectable ten seconds he figured that was all the AI had to say. "Thank you JARVIS, that was very…clinical." And he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Are there any signs of brain damage?" Because Tony was a super hero, and he was Hollywood handsome, but having either of those things impaired was nothing compared to a loss in his more than considerable brain power.
"Sir is not yet conscious; therefore it is impossible to be certain." JARVIS' tone was leading, but he didn't elaborate. Steve figured he'd quit while he was ahead, at least he was being spoken to without the venom.
He hadn't quite worked out all his tension with the bag, but now he was ready to stop for the night. Tony was out of surgery, but who knew if he was out of the woods, so to speak. He would go upstairs, wash away the sweat, and call Natasha to see if she had any more, yet less clinical information. Actually, he pulled out his phone and tapped her contact icon, he didn't want to wait. For a moment he was slightly concerned about losing the connection in the elevator, but then he remembered Tony telling him one day when it rang on the elevator at HQ, and Steve had jolted in surprise, "seriously, Cap, I designed that phone, be realistic, it'll work just about anywhere, depending on who you're talking to, because they might be using someone else's shitty tech…" he laughed at the memory of Tony's hands gesturing angrily at the thought of anything less than Stark Industries technology.
"Someone's in a better mood," he heard Natasha say through the phone. He must have still been laughing at the absurd memory when she answered.
So, according to Natasha, he had broken Tony's jaw, the bones around the eye and his cheekbone. Of course she didn't phrase it like that, but it was the truth. She added that the skin and muscle in those areas was torn by the crumpled helmet and the expectation was that no severe nerve damage was done. She also didn't say that the part of the helmet that supported the faceplate had saved Tony's life, but he'd punched many things since the serum and he knew that was a fact. Tony hadn't woken up yet, so everything else was pretty much an educated guess.
"There's no significant cranial swelling. The doctors are optimistic that he has a mild to moderated concussion at worst." She paused when she heard him let out the breath he'd been holding. "Director Fury wants to see us all in the morning. And Steve, there's a present for you in your room, read it, but we'll need to talk about it tomorrow. There are things left out, but I wanted to go over those in person." Steve figured she must be aware of his confrontation with Miss Potts since Natasha didn't ask him if he was coming by medical. If that was the case it would be rude for him to bring it up, and he couldn't do anything about it anyways.
"Thank you Natasha. JARVIS mentioned there were complications; do you know anything about that?" JARVIS had also said whatever the issues was had been resolved, but Steve still felt he wanted—needed to know what other damage he might have done.
"There was a loose piece of metal in Stark's mouth that lodged into the soft palate. The immediate concern was vascular injury, but fortunately that wasn't the case." As good as that news appeared to be, Natasha seemed hesitant to continue, though after a small intake of breath, she did. "It seems this wasn't his first broken jaw and there was some hardware left over from the previous time."
It took Steve a little longer than it should have to put what she said together with the tentative way she said it, and he was horrified when he figured it out at last.
"He had one of those plates JARVIS mentioned, from before, and I knocked it loose when I—when I hit him?" The last few words came out as a whisper as he flashed back to the fear he had seen in Clint's eyes when he said Tony wasn't breathing normally…that he might need CPR. He leaned back against the elevator wall for support, admitting to himself that it was possible to feel even guiltier than he had a minute ago.
"Steve…" He knew she wanted to say something to make him feel better, but he also knew he didn't deserve it. He didn't want her wasting that energy on him, distracting herself to help him when Tony was the one who needed their thoughts and prayers right now.
"Thank you again, Natasha. Have a nice evening and I'll see you in the morning." He said a bit too brusquely, but he wanted to be alone with his thoughts and the file she had hopefully been referring to. He disconnected the phone call with only the smallest twinge of regret for his tone; he knew she would understand, she knew him better than anyone in this century, well, besides Tony.
When the elevator doors opened he went straight to his room, spotting the file Natasha had left on his desk. This required attention, so not while he was sweaty and hungry. He decided he would shower, for the third time today, make a sandwich and read the file in the kitchen while he was eating.
The shower was very quick because it was cold. He'd rapidly scrubbed away the sweat and blood, wondering at his first unwanted cold shower since waking up in this century. In fact, always having water, and warm at that, when he wanted it was really nice. He was no stranger to cold showers in his past life, both before the serum and in the army, but in this time it never happened unless it was intentional. And it had been intentional on more than one occasion in the earlier stages of becoming close to Tony. He briefly thought something was wrong with the plumbing in the tower before he realized it was most likely JARVIS' doing, a small reminder of the computer's dislike for him at the moment.
Still shivering a little, he dressed and headed to the kitchen to make a sandwich before grabbing the file and sitting down at the table to read.
Afghanistan was not new information to him. He'd known of Tony's capture and that he'd made the first Iron Man suit as well as his arc reactor while in captivity. But he'd never given much thought to what the rest of those three months had been like until he was reading about probable forms of torture and surgery with little to no anesthetic. The thought of it made him sick. He wondered vaguely if this is when Tony had broken his jaw the first time.
Steve almost spit out a bite of his sandwich when he read about Obadiah Stane's betrayal, his role in facilitating Tony's kidnapping and his further attempts to murder Tony by stealing the reactor from his chest. He'd only just finished reading about how Stane was his business partner, as well as Howard's close friend and Tony's mentor. No wonder it had taken Tony months to stop flinching whenever Steve got too close to the device, even in an intimate setting. Tony's trust issues were starting to make a lot more sense.
Breadcrumbs as well as bits of cheese and turkey did sputter from his mouth when he read about the palladium poisoning. Tony had thought he was dying, actually he was dying, and that explained more than a few of the irresponsible choices he'd made. A lot of the crazy and reckless things he did during that time were out there for anyone to read about, but the explanation wasn't. The world never knew that Tony was dying, that he thought every day could be his last, and he never made excuses for himself. Then he'd solved the problem by creating a new element; the man was completely brilliant and utterly amazing. In addition, he'd been through all of that and still came out fighting, choosing to put himself out there as a target. Tony bragged about so many things, but never these life changing events and the depth of creativity and astonishing genius they wrought.
He couldn't shake the feelings of deep guilt. He would give anything to trade places with Tony, bear the pain he was surely going through, or would be when he woke up. He knew better than that though, he had committed a sin and this guilt, this suffering and this helplessness was surely penance for that.
Sleep did not come easy for Steve that night, and when it did finally take him, his dreams were of caves and portals and a man so much larger than Tony holding him down as he stole the blue light, leaving in his wake a dark, gaping hole and a lifeless Tony. He woke with a shout, legs strangled by the sheets, fingernail shaped crescents gouged into his palms, breath stilted, and covered in a sheen of sweat, there was no way he'd be falling back asleep now.
Thirty minutes later found him peering through the small window in the door of the medical bay waiting area. Bruce was asleep in a chair, slouched down, head resting on the wall behind him. Natasha was in the chair to his immediate right, curled towards him, legs drawn up with her head resting on the scientists shoulder. Their friendship had come a long way since those first days on the helicarrier, like his and Tony's had, and for the first time he wondered if there was something more between the spy and the doctor. Then again, Clint and Natasha seemed more a pair, there was definitely a history between the two, but it was hard to say what their personal relationship was now. Maybe they were like him and Tony, the best of friends who sometimes enjoyed a more physical relationship. The thought made him blush, as much for thinking about those kinds of things going on among his friends as the dizzying thoughts of the things he and Tony did together.
God, the things the notorious playboy had taught him were fantastic. And though everything else Tony did was high-speed and often frantic, following an intellect and personality that would not be slowed, he had taken his time with Steve. More than that actually, now that he thought about it. Tony had never initiated anything other than kisses, and only after Steve had kissed him four or five times before that. It was always Steve asking for more, begging for it, and Tony had still made him wait forever. From the very first kiss through the last time they'd had sex, Tony had let Steve call the shots. That's not to say that the more experienced man wasn't a good teacher, he was probably the best, but only once he was absolutely sure that Steve was ready to take the next step. And it was obvious that Tony wanted more as well, the proof of his desire was always hard and heavy between them, but he pulled himself back time and time again, so unlike the philanderer he was reputed to be.
He thought back to the dozens of times he'd been caught up in the moment with his ingenious friend, letting his hands map and wander the smaller man's lithe form, only to be pulled away when they strayed any lower than the waist, and then the first time Tony hadn't stopped him.
They were so close they were sharing the same humid air as well as body heat and his breath was coming in short, panting gasps. The hand he had curled around Tony's neck began to roam of it's own accord, over the lovely jut of his collarbone, through the scars that bordered the arc reactor, and lower still over the trail of dark hair down a hard, flat abdomen. His eyes were on Tony's mouth, lips a deep red and enlarged from long, unhurried kisses, shiny with the evidence of their intensity. He didn't want to look up and see the hesitation he knew would be conveyed in those dark eyes, he wanted more, wanted to touch someone other than himself in this feverish state, wanted to give pleasure to the incredible man before him. When he did at last look up, seeking permission, begging to be allowed, what he saw sent a surge of heat lancing through him. The genius' eyes were glittering and unfocused but looking right at him, surely mirroring the want in his own intense gaze. Steve's desire doubled in that moment, and he brazenly slid his hand over Tony's arousal, drawing an unbelievably sinful moan from the other man that prompted the inexperienced soldier to curl his fingers around the firm length and stroke upwards. He moved his other hand up to where the first had been, around the nape of Tony's neck, woven in the dark curls, and brought the man to his lips. Steve kissed him long and deep as he hooked his thumb into the waistband of the inventor's sweatpants and began to lower them in an effort to touch fully and finally feel his bare flesh. He held firm around the neck, not wanting to be told no yet again, that things had gone far enough, because right now, there was no such thing. Tony could break the hold if he really wanted, but Steve was doing nothing to encourage that.
Tony felt incredible in his hand, so hard, but smooth and very warm, and when he stroked upwards again he was met with a small gush of wet heat. It was his turn to moan, a horse, broken sound he would be embarrassed about making any other time. This time, however, the sound caused Tony to shudder and pull his lips away. Steve was afraid it was over, that he would be asked to stop but instead Tony touched their foreheads together and whispered, in an equally broken voice "Steve…"
He was half crazy with lust, and with the knowledge that Tony was not stopping him, that he was being permitted to prolong this intensely erotic moment. He continued stroking, his heart pounding and his own hardness begging to be touched. Both of Tony's hands were on his hips, thumbs pressing small circles, and Steve couldn't stop himself, "Tony… please…touch me." He would surely be mortified about that later, but it was impossible right now when it meant Tony was looking at him intently, eyes now focused and asking silently if Steve was sure. And, yes, good God Almighty he was.
Tony moved both hands, one going to the button and zipper of Steve's pants while the other grasped his erection. Steve gasped loudly then began raggedly gulping for air as Tony pulled him free of his pants and boxers. It was so unlike touching himself, Tony's fingers were unerringly clever and practiced, roughened with scars and calluses and the combination was beyond wonderful. He had no control over how Tony was touching him, and he had wrongfully assumed every touch to that part of his body would feel pretty much the same, but the inventors hands were smaller, quicker and tighter and the effect was bringing him to the edge so much faster than he'd ever gotten when doing this alone. Almost as if Tony sensed this, he stroked to the tip, ran his finger over the damp slit and stopped. Steve continued, with an even firmer grasp, up and down Tony's length in encouragement for the other to imitate, but aside from the thumb running back and forth over the tip there was no more movement.
"Don't…please don't stop." His voice was unrecognizable, low and rough and full of a need he hadn't thought possible. The slow torture of the thumb continued, but so did Tony's other hand, pushing Steve's clothes further down his thighs. And thank you God, because for a heart stopping instant he'd thought the playboy was going to pull them the other way to cover Steve back up.
"I won't stop, baby, not unless you ask," Tony's voice was low as well, husky with arousal as he slid both hands around to cup Steve's rear, squeezing while at the same time standing on his toes and pulling Steve even closer. The result was that the hand encompassing Tony's erection was now pressed between them. Steve didn't understand how that could possibly be better with his movements so restricted, and he pulled his hand up and away in confusion, and ohhh… oh my God, they were left with their erections touching and Tony grinding slowly against him. It was, without any doubt, the most amazing thing he'd ever felt. The embers that had been smoldering in his stomach and lower spine seemed to erupt, searing through him and he reached around the billionaire, pulling him impossibly closer and holding him there while moving his hips helplessly as he let the sensation swallow him whole.
He knew his climax was mere moments away, and nothing he could do would stave it off now. Embracing that knowledge, he moved his lips to the juncture of Tony's neck and shoulder, so close with the other man on his toes, and bit softly into the flesh. He was rewarded with a deep appreciative groan, and that did it, his hips stuttered wildly before his body went rigid, his release spurting between them, warm and viscous and making the feeling even better. Tony's ragged breathing indicated he was right behind and he moaned Steve's name loudly as he coated them both in more of the hot sticky fluid.
A soft tapping sound pulled him from his reverie. He sucked in a breath, overly warm from the memory, and noticed Natasha rapping her knuckle on the glass. His forehead was resting on the cool metal of the door, and he backed away so that she could open it.
"Hey, you're here early." She said as an ice breaker. Natasha was very observant, had to be in her line of work, so he knew she was aware of how little he had slept, and that he was anxious about seeing Tony, and Clint too. "Pepper and Clint are in with him now. He hasn't woken up yet." She added, knowing those were the two questions running through his mind at the moment.
He had no right to ask, but he wanted to see Tony, and the only way that could be even more impossible was if Col. Rhodes was here as well. He was glad that Tony had these people to protect him, to look out for him, but he never expected to be viewed as the one Tony needed protection from. Trying to go into Tony's room now would be about as dangerous as Odysseus facing Scylla and Charybdis. Natasha being one of the most perceptive people he'd ever met seemed able to follow the train of his unspoken thoughts.
"Pepper has to leave in a few minutes, and I can distract Clint when that happens, but I can't guarantee you more than fifteen minutes," she smirked knowingly, then added, "and you're on your own with Banner if he wakes up. But don't forget that we need to talk after the meeting," she whispered over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
"Thank you, Natasha," is all he could say, overcome with gratitude that this formidable woman was not only on his side, but his friend as well. He knew that she could read the depth of emotion and the things he didn't say. True to her word, she headed through the doors on the other side of the waiting area, down the long hallway and entered the third room on the left. He ducked out of sight, feeling very much like the villain he was in this situation, and waited for the three to emerge before heading into the room.
It wasn't as bright as he expected, the overhead lights were off and the day outside was overcast, thus not providing very much illumination through the small window. Tony was propped up in the bed, but asleep, exactly as he was expecting. The entire left side of his face was covered with bandages and white medical tape, he'd thought he was prepared for it, but the reality was so much worse. He'd been around injured men more often than he cared to remember, but he had personally caused these injuries, and looking at the damage he had done incited a lump to form in his throat and the burning sting of tears behind his eyelids. He stood for endless minutes trying to get hold of himself before turning back to the bed.
Tony's hair was cut very short, almost shorn, and his trademark goatee was gone. He would probably be as upset about the loss as he was about the much more serious consequences of Steve's failure to control himself. The difference was startling, he looked younger and the wary look usually gracing the engineer's face had morphed into something very peaceful. He couldn't imagine seeing that face so serene while its owner was awake; Tony was always so expressive, so many things running through him at once.
Without the facial hair, Tony's lips were more prominent, appearing fuller and darker and, at the moment, very chapped. Steve had the wild urge to kiss those lips, briefly and chastely, just to feel them again, for what would probably be the last time. The thought saddened him more than he expected. And, because this was one more example of how he couldn't hold back where Tony was concerned, he did bend slightly and press his lips to Tony's. It could hardly even be called a kiss for how light and fleeting it was, and it amazed him that the genius lips were still as warm as he remembered. He pressed his fingers into his eyelids before a tear could fall.
"I'm so sorry Tony," he said, his voice raspy but tender. "Please be okay…please Tony, just—just wake up and be okay." One hot tear slipped out, despite his best effort to stop it, and slid down his cheek. He wiped it away, pressed harder on his eyelids to contain the rest and stepped away from the bed. Once again he found himself not knowing what to say, lost in grief and guilt and wishing more than anything he could have that moment back when he had lost his temper. He swallowed the sticky lump in his throat, wiped the unshed tears from his eyelashes and quickly left the room. Natasha's promised fifteen minutes were nearly up and the sight of Tony so still was unnerving, compounding his guilt with every moment, tightening in his gut and throbbing in his chest. The feeling was somehow similar to the hollow ache that had resided in his chest for so long after he had woken from the ice. Tony had been the one to ease that feeling away the first time, and now he would have to learn to live with it again, for how long he had no idea.
Bruce was still asleep when he came back into the waiting area. He contemplated waking him up, they had a meeting with director Fury in thirty minutes. Steve took a moment to compose himself further, he suspected traces of his grief were still visible in his eyes, but he wasn't sure what he could do about that, and placed a hand lightly on the doctor's shoulder.
Bruce jolted upright, "Is he awake?" It was almost a whisper, but Steve heard it anyways.
"No, but it's almost time to meet Fury. I thought we could grab coffee on the way."
Dr. Banner shook himself fully awake and stood, stretching his back then his arms before heading to the door. "Sure, sounds good." Bruce looked away shyly and said in a quietly hesitant voice, "I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about anyways."
His insides squirmed slightly at the doctor's tone, there was no way this could be good.
"You know Tony better than the rest of us do." Bruce began, still not looking directly at him. Steve felt the heat on his face at the doctor's words, remembering that the whole team knew what had been going on between him and Tony after yesterday. "Did he ever mention when he broke his jaw the first time?"
"Uh, no, I don't remember it ever coming up. Why do you ask?" Admittedly, he was slightly curious about that as well, just because it seemed unlikely that anyone but a boxer would be unlucky enough to have to go through it more than once, but Tony did take more than a fair amount of unnecessary risks.
"Just wondering, the piece they found isn't really used anymore, hasn't been since the mid eighties."
"Are you saying that Tony was a child when it happened?" Steve asked incredulously. Even he, with all of the fights he'd been in as a frail youngster, hadn't been that unfortunate. Granted, Bucky had most likely saved him from that fate more times than he could count, but Tony hadn't been raised like that, he had been a rich, pampered child. Though, if the genius was even half as snarky and arrogant back then as he was now…
"Well, definitely pre MIT and he was fifteen when he started there." Bruce's answer interrupted his train of thought. "I checked, it isn't in his medical records though obviously surgery was done if there were plates used."
Before Steve could respond they reached their destination.
Clint never met his eyes, never even looked in his direction as he came into the briefing room. The archer took a seat next to the empty chair to Steve's right, sitting across from Natasha, and purposely not right next to Steve. He understood the other man's anger, accepted it and did not resent the man. He was actually glad that, so far at least, angry words had not been said.
"Okay people," Fury started, swishing into the room. "This is not about our slimy friends from yesterday, or about what happened after." He eyed Steve heavily before going on. "Stark was supposed to attend a benefit tomorrow night. Said affair is to directly benefit The Avengers Initiative, meaning you all." The statement was met with collective groans from Clint and Natasha, Steve still wasn't really sure where this was going.
"That means," he glared at everyone around the table in turn, daring any of them to disagree, "you are going in his place, to spread good will or whatever happy horse shit mollifies these rich assholes and gets their support, financial and otherwise, that we need after the damages done to the city whenever you're called out. This is not up for dispute." He eyed them all again, a deadly expression on his face. "And get dates. We need a distraction from the fact Stark won't be there. I'm sure that won't be a problem." He was focusing his intent stare directly at Steve again. "If you can't find a date, even though you're superheroes, one will be found for you." It was sarcastic, but no less serious for that. "End of discussion, no questions. Barton, you're excused from going." His weighted stare was on Natasha now as he said this, not Clint, daring her to object.
Steve knew Fury didn't want Clint up close and personal with the masses. It had been months and Clint had fought on their side, in front of the entire world, but people were fickle and Clint had fought alongside Loki at the start of it all. It didn't seem to matter that every member of the team trusted Hawkeye with their lives; even some agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. still questioned his loyalty. No one ever had the nerve to say that to any of their faces, but Steve's enhanced hearing could really be an imposition sometimes, and he had heard the whispers in the halls.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Fury turned back to the room at large, "Thor will be there with Dr. Foster, and hopefully she'll be able to stifle his…enthusiasm a little bit. Agent Hill has all the details, and if you don't have anything black tie appropriate then see her about that too. Happy prom night kiddos." With that he left the room and Agent Hill entered.
"Agent Romanoff," Hill said, striding to the head of the table. "We think it best if you accompany Dr. Banner." There was no need for her to elaborate, they all knew why. She turned to Bruce, "If you should feel the need to leave, go someplace more…stress free she can stay and the loss won't be felt as greatly." She was sympathetic to the panicked look on Bruce's face, and added, "We don't expect you to stay the whole time."
It really shouldn't have come as such a shock. Steve remembered Tony asking him if he had plans for tomorrow night a few days ago, and it was very like the brilliant man to just leave it at that after Steve had said he was free. He never imagined a date though, if that's what this could be called. His only choice now was Claire. If she had other plans he wasn't sure what he would do, he'd never successfully asked anyone on a date before. He stood and pulled out his phone, wanting to ask her as soon as possible, the thought of having to go to Fury if she was busy was just too much.
"Steve…" Natasha called just as he tapped send to call Claire.
"Sorry Natasha, I really have to make this call." He felt bad, she had told him they needed to talk, but at the moment this took precedence. The memory of Fury's weighted, single-eyed glare was fresh in his mind. "Can I catch up to you later?" He asked hopefully.
She raised an eyebrow as she nodded at the phone to his ear, "sure, Steve…good luck." He watched her head off down the hall wondering what she wanted to talk to him about. It had to be something important, that was the third time she'd mentioned it to him since last night.
The thought was cut off by the voice on the other end of his phone. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that she would say yes and he wouldn't find himself in Fury's office anytime soon.
Thankfully that wouldn't be necessary, Claire was free and he made arrangements to pick her up after asking for her address. This was something Steve should be thrilled about, his first real date; one Bucky hadn't set up for him. He had actually asked and been told yes. The idea of it was less joyful than he imagined though. He wasn't sure how he felt about accompanying Tony to something like this, but there was a light fluttery feeling in his chest that hadn't been there since yesterday, before everything happened. He suspected it was nerves.
He followed the others back down to the hospital wing where Pepper Potts was conversing with a doctor. She turned as they all came in; glared daggers briefly at Steve, motioned for Clint to follow her, and headed to Tony's room. Steve had no idea how to make this right, but until they knew Tony was out of danger he suspected Pepper and Clint would harbor their anger, silent or otherwise.
The doctor told them that only two visitors at a time were allowed in Tony's room until he was awake, so Steve, Natasha and Bruce spent a little more than an hour talking about the upcoming benefit. How unfair it was to Clint, though Natasha and Bruce considered him the lucky one for being able to skip it. Natasha was talking about looking at blueprints of the building they would all be heading to tomorrow night when Pepper came back into the waiting area.
"He woke up a little while ago. He's disoriented and in pain, but otherwise seems okay." She said this matter of factly, as if it were a public service announcement, then turned to Steve before continuing, "I think it's best if you stay out here at the moment, Captain Rogers."
He didn't know if the idea was hers or Tony's, but he knew he should respect it. He was so relieved that Tony had woken up and that he was okay and that would have to be enough for now. He would see Tony soon, and he would apologize and they would set things right, maybe not today or tomorrow, but Steve promised himself he would make things right between them again.
A/N: I know it's was long an angsty, and you probably want to just shake some sense into Steve, but the next chapter is Tony! Thanks for reading.