A/N:No religious offense meant in this chapter...I was raised Catholic myself, went to Catholic school and all, so I speak from experience about the guilt associated when certain beliefs differ from those of The Church :)

Steve stood in front of the mirror on his closet door, staring, perplexed at his reflection. This shirt was not only brand new, but very expensive and picked out by Tony who had insisted all those weeks ago, despite Steve's many protests at the outrageous price tag, that it would be perfect with his tuxedo. He'd thought about wearing his dress uniform, he was representing the Avengers as Captain America but his Kevlar and spandex was out of the question, so at least his military uniform was fitting. Upon further reflection, though, this was black tie and a date, so he ultimately decided to go with the tux. He wasn't exactly unaccustomed to fancy clothes, but this shirt Tony had been adamant about giving him didn't have any buttons, just button holes up both sides of the front and at the cuffs, and he was confused about that. Obviously something went through the two sets of holes to keep the shirt closed, but he had no idea what that something was. Well, he knew cufflinks were needed for the sleeves and he figured it was something like that for the front as well, but he didn't have any of those either. And when he went to get his other one, the one with actual buttons, he found it was suspiciously missing. He called Natasha for help and she told him to meet her at Tony's room.

"You need tuxedo studs and cufflinks for that," she said, smirking at his confusion. "Stark will have dozens of things to choose from, I'm sure," she added, opening his bedroom door. It felt strange to be in here without Tony, or his permission at least. He couldn't help looking towards the large bed, sheets still disheveled from the most recent and very erotic tryst with Tony, and he felt himself blush from the memories. He yanked his thoughts and his eyes away from the bed, now was certainly not the time for that.

"Let's see what he's got," she said, opening the large wooden chest atop Tony's dresser. She whistled lowly in appreciation of the sight within. "Holy shit," she muttered and picked up a tiny black gem on a silver post and walked over to him. She showed him how to slip it through the holes and turn the cross bar to secure it. "He's got tons to choose from. The cuffs work the same way, but cufflinks are bigger. Those are on the second tray down," she added, pointing to the deceptively large chest now that it was open. He knew what cufflinks were, everyone wore them back in his day, but he didn't bother to say anything about it to her.

"I've got to finish getting ready," she said, turning away and heading out of the room. Steve couldn't figure out what she possibly had left to do, she looked fantastic. He wanted to ask her if she'd had hot water, because again he hadn't, but decided against it, knowing JARVIS would hear. He did ask her about Fury's lack of outrage at him, except for the iron stare of that single glaring eyeball.

When she turned back towards him in the doorway she was adorned with a smug expression that could rival even Tony's. "You owe me big time for that, but it'll come up. He knows everything, has played back every microsecond of footage. He agrees with me that if the mask wasn't down you wouldn't have given into the urge to…" she trailed off at the look of extreme discomfort on Steve's face, most likely at reliving the moment, but just maybe at the idea of Fury replaying the scene over and over.

"Thank you again, Natasha. I do owe you. I owe you so much." His voice was too soft and tremulous. It felt like she was his only friend in the world right now and he needed her to know how much that meant to him. Before he could compose himself and make another attempt at expressing his gratitude she spoke again.

"There is no doubt in my mind that you would do the same for me, Steve." Her expression was soft because she was about the most astute person he had ever met and she could read him like an open book. "I do have one piece of advice though, talk to Thor as soon as you can so the discussion doesn't happen in front of prying eyes. He'll want to hear your side of the story." With that she was walking away again.

He wanted to say he doubted it, but he couldn't. Thor was many things and though he could be hot headed at times, he could be quite diplomatic as well.

Instead, he picked up the rest of the matching studs and fixed them through the shirt the way Natasha had shown him. He turned to face the full length mirror, and had to admit the small studs made a difference. Of course Tony would know that, and probably had been planning to laugh at Steve's ignorance over it; he'd seen the gems on the inventor's shirts before but had just assumed they were fancy buttons.

He imagined getting ready for tonight with Tony. He would be here just like now, not having studs for the shirt Tony had given him. Maybe Tony had planned it that way; surely he knew Steve wouldn't have cufflinks or shirt studs. Why would he do that though? Would they be helping each other with last minute details like this or maybe with the bowties? Tony wouldn't need help; of course, he dressed like this often and was very used to it. Heck, Tony probably learned to tie a bowtie before he learned to tie his shoes.

He could imagine how Tony would be smiling at him now; saying lewd things about how Steve looked all dressed up. The genius did that a lot actually, both the smiles and the comments, ever since that first kiss in the workshop. A wave of guilt washed over him again, not that Tony would be missing this event, because he hated them most of the time, but he had seemed happy when he asked Steve about his particular plans for this evening and been told the soldier had none. Had Tony wanted this to be a date? No, he couldn't imagine that. Maybe he had just wanted company because he said often enough that events like this were downright tedious. Usually he found a gorgeous woman or two to stem the boredom, had that been his plan tonight as well?

Suddenly he didn't feel right being here alone. The smell of Tony's expensive cologne and his lingering presence was everywhere. The effect was unsettling and he hurried to pick a matching pair of cufflinks before leaving the room. He couldn't keep his eyes off the bed as he passed, and the nervous fluttering was in his chest again. He couldn't get to his own room quick enough to finish getting ready.

oOoOoOo

Claire looked lovely but was wearing an incredibly form fitting gown of deep red. To call the neckline plunging would be a gross understatement, he was pretty sure he could see the top of her navel, and Steve had to look away quickly to try and stem the heat he felt rising in his cheeks. Thankfully she pulled a wrap from a hook by the door and covered herself a bit before heading to the car. He was getting used to the overt displays of sexuality in this century, but having it so close to him for the entire evening might be a challenge.

Though Claire clutched the wrap close to her chest in the car, it was allowed to slip down her back once inside. The ends were draped gracefully over her elbows, drawing attention once again to the depth of her cleavage. More than a few heads turned as they entered the ballroom and there was a distinct lull in conversation from the small groups of attendees they passed. It brought back memories of a smoky bar filled with soldiers reveling loudly before the same sudden hush fell and another vision in form fitting red appeared.

The similarities between the two women pretty much ended there. Peggy was taller, darker, a lot more modest and a lot less clingy than Claire. It had taken nearly two and a half hours before his date left his side to approach some other people that she knew. Steve, relieved by her absence, approached his three fellow teammates and Dr. Foster. The first few times the teammates had gathered to chat Claire had been holding tightly to his arm. It was a little bit more forward than he was used to and incredibly uncomfortable when he found Pepper Potts staring icily at them more than once.

"You are indeed a lucky man, Captain." Thor said loudly, eyeing Claire. "Your companion is charming as well as…" He trailed off, probably searching for a polite way to describe the way she was dressed, though she was hardly the only woman in the room wearing something so revealing, when Natasha cut in.

"Unashamed? An exhibitionist? Promiscuous?" She offered, looking as serenely at Thor as if she'd asked about the weather on Asgard.

Steve blushed scarlet, Bruce cleared his throat quietly, Dr. Foster giggled and Thor just looked helpless.

"Steve, she's trying too hard, surely you see that." Natasha continued, though not unkindly.

"Trying for what?" Steve questioned, though the moment it came out he regretted it.

"For your attention, to stake a claim, let everyone here know that you're with her. She sees the way everyone's looking at you and she wants to be part of it too…her fifteen minutes of fame"

Steve looked a little unsure, and asked, "I don't think everyone is looking at me, are they?"

"Did you even look in a mirror earlier? Everyone here has checked you out at least once tonight, and that includes the gay women and the straight guys."

Steve's face darkened even further to an alarming shade of maroon, Bruce winced slightly before coughing nervously, Dr. Foster tried but failed to stifle a burst of outright laughter and Thor said a little too loudly, "You are a fine specimen Captain."

He was used to hearing things like that from Tony, but not the rest of the team. Truth be told, he thought Tony looked much better in a tux than he did. The suave billionaire could wear anything and make it look sexy. He just exuded so much confidence and innate grace that Steve always felt slightly in awe of the other man because of it. If Tony had come tonight Steve had no doubt that every eye in the room would be fixed on him, he was dashing, charismatic, witty and an absolute knockout. He wished he was here with Tony now; everything would be easier to deal with because Tony had such a way with these types of things. He hated them, yes, but that didn't mean he wasn't successful at it.

"He is, isn't he?" Claire said silkily, sliding her hand through the crook of his arm again. Steve had failed to notice her return; he'd been too caught up thinking about Tony to hear her approach.

Bruce cleared his throat again and looked at Steve and Thor before saying in a near whisper, "I think I'm going to head home, not really a fan of crowds, and I think I've been here long enough to make Fury happy."

He shook hands with Steve and Thor, mumbled a quick goodnight to Clair and Dr. Foster and turned to Natasha, "Thank you for a lovely evening, Natasha; I'll see you back at the tower."

The five watched him go and settled back in for the rest of the evening. There was no way Fury wanted anyone but Dr. Banner leaving before the event ended, Agent Hill had been very clear about that. It was another few hours of shaking hands, drumming up support and spreading good will for the Avengers before the room started to empty. With Natasha's guidance Claire had been a more pleasant companion as the night wore on, less adhered to him and generally more easy going, laughing at the politicians silly jokes and talking fashion with their wives.

Steve was nervous when they pulled up to Claire's house. He knew he should walk her to the door, tell her he'd had a wonderful time and kiss her goodnight. That was the way these things used to work anyways, but now things were so much different. What if she invited him in? Would that lead to "fooling around" as Tony referred to it? He was ready for that now, or experienced at it anyways. Tony had taught him so much, and sure there was a difference, Tony was a man after all, but the mechanics of it were pretty much the same. Did he want that with Claire? Two days ago he thought he had, but now he wasn't sure, he couldn't help feeling like the timing just wasn't right.

She took the majority of the decision out of his hands, however, when they reached her door and before he could get a word out she pulled him in for a crushing kiss. Her lips were cool, matching the temperature of the pre dawn hour, and waxy tasting from her lipstick. She moved her mouth over his skillfully and circled both arms around his neck, stretching on her toes to do so. He felt he had no choice but to place his hands on her waist to steady her. She pulled her mouth away and whispered huskily for him to come inside as she fiddled with her house key.

This was it, something he'd been wanting for a very long time, something Bucky and the rest of the guys talked about near endlessly some days. He breathed deeply for a few moments and followed her inside. She was very pretty and sort of sweet too, in a way. There was no doubt that she wanted him, she'd been a bit more coy about it than some of the girls on the USO tour had, but he recognized the signs despite his naïveté. He'd only had eyes for Peggy back then, but there was nothing stopping him now, though he was a little uncomfortable with how fast things seemed to be moving. He came to a decision as he followed her example and took a seat on the sofa; he wouldn't let it go that far, not on their first date. He had a feeling it would be difficult to stop, he knew how amazing he felt with Tony, always the need for more, and this would be even better without the stigma of so much sin.

Again she took the initiative, moving closer and sliding her lips over his once more. He leaned in, wrapped his arms around her and drew her in close before opening his mouth to her eager tongue. She tasted a little bitter from wine at the gala and still the slightly plastic remnants of her lipstick. He moved his hand from around her waist up the soft, satiny line of her back to curl at the nape of her neck. Usually it was one of his favorite things about kissing, the soft waves of hair threaded through his fingers contrasting with the rough texture of facial hair surrounding his lips, scratching deliciously and spurring him on to delve deeper with his tongue but not be able to get close enough to the exquisite scraping rapture that never failed to set fire to his skin in the very best of ways.

This was so very different from that. The hair at Clair's nape was stiff with product, hardly allowing his fingers through without pulling, and obviously there was a distinct lack of facial hair. It wasn't that her smooth skin felt bad, just not the same.

As they continued to kiss she slipped her hand under his jacket and ran it up and down his chest, urging him back against the cushions of the sofa. Her small hand was much cooler and gentler than he was used to, and once it roamed over his chest and back up to settle on his neck in imitation of his own hand, she tugged softly, turning them so that it was her back pressing into the soft cushions. He pulled his hand from her starchy nape and moved it around her graceful neck and down to her collarbone, pausing there while gathering his nerve to slide slowly down and over her nearly exposed bosom. She arched her back, bringing herself even closer to him in a clear sign of invitation.

He had never felt a breast, a female breast, before but he'd certainly heard a lot about how wonderful it was, soft, yielding and lust inspiring. The smooth satin of her gown helped guide his hand, brining it around the robust mound until his fingers found her smooth flesh where it heaved from the material. She pulled her lips slightly from his at the touch and moaned softly. The sound was something that had always sent waves of arousal through him before converging in his groin, but this sound was different; lighter and more playful, almost like an exaggerated sigh. The sound was sweet, but inspired no arousal, no lust, and no need.

Maybe he was doing something wrong. She seemed to be enjoying it, but he couldn't actually say the same about himself. Yes, he was nervous, and maybe his body was behaving because of that, but he couldn't help thinking about how worked up he usually was after one kiss like that with Tony, one touch from the brilliant man had his body responding willingly, his heart pounding and his fingers itching to return the touch. He shook himself mentally, realizing he needed to concentrate on the here and now, on Claire and their budding relationship and stop distracting himself with immoral thoughts.

It worked for almost five whole seconds, until he looked into her eyes. They were a very attractive shade of green but not the liquid chocolate ones he wanted to see. Not the big, beautiful ones framed in the thick dark fringe of lashes. The ones he was looking at were dull, the lashes clumpy and phony, an attempt to simulate what Tony had naturally. Everything about this moment was a very pale imitation of what he wanted. That thought had his body responding in the ways he was used to. This was supposed to feel right, natural in the way the Lord intended, the union between man and woman. What he actually felt was the exact opposite of that.

It wasn't that he was just nervous or that this, he and Claire together, wasn't what he was used to, it wasn't even that it was too soon with her. It was just—just wrong—his brain was buzzing and his skin felt itchy all over, but neither in a good way. And now that he had something to compare, he had no choice but to realize that what he craved, yearned for in a way that left him nearly breathless was Tony. The wrongness of his current situation was startling when compared with how perfect everything seemed to feel with his teammate.

Tony's strong and needy touch, his wonderful taste and tantalizing scent, the undeniable heat of his body and the worship returned in Tony's gaze. He had no trouble recalling the fervency of that stare, and the memory of the way the genius looked at him, not sometimes, but every time struck something deep within Steve, the fluttering in his chest more profound than ever and a scintillating warmth that spread to every cell in his body. Right now he would give anything to have that, but what he really, truly wanted was Tony's heart. He wanted Tony to be his, and only his; he wanted Tony to be in love with him, because that's exactly what this was. He was in love with Tony Stark, and looking back on their encounters together he suspected Tony had felt the same way about him for quite some time.

The epiphany struck him like a repulsor blast to the face.

He extricated himself as gracefully as possible from Clair's arms and then from her house. Granted, it really wasn't very graceful at all, but he could barely explain it to himself, never mind her. He couldn't even remember the lame excuse he'd made by the time he reached the car, but he did remember saying he would call her later that day. She had not been happy, but she wasn't the hurt one he was concentrating on at the moment.

The shock of it all was dampened by an impending sense of dread. Not only was what he wanted against his faith, but he had ruined any chance he had at it with the events from two days ago. How is it possible that he never realized how either of them felt? Had Tony been waiting for him to feel the same way before saying anything? That was an even more gut wrenching thought as he remembered the hurt in Tony's eyes when he'd rounded the corner to find Steve kissing someone else.

At the time he'd been mad at Tony for his cold attitude, for the genius trying to ruin Steve's moment with Claire. He groaned loudly and banged his head on the steering wheel at his own stupidity.

He should drive to the hospital at HQ right now, beg forgiveness and ask Tony for answers to the questions swimming in his head. With a clench in his chest he remembered that Tony didn't want to see him; that the other members of the team were allowed entrance to his room, but he was not. If he tried to force his way in it would mean not only an altercation with Clint, who was surely still in Tony's room, but also answers he just may not be ready for, his revelation being only minutes old.

He'd hurt Tony with more than just the punch, and the guilt that had been hovering around the edges of his sanity for almost two days was about to undo him now. Where minutes ago his insides were actually squirming with joy, now his skin felt like it was shrinking, trying to strangle his chest and release the wriggling in his stomach that had turned from something almost pleasant to something itchy and clawing. In addition to the turmoil in his gut he felt the hollowness return in his chest, the bone deep ache of loneliness and loss. He hadn't even been aware when it left him, that despair that had been a part of him since the ice, but now that it was back, it was so much worse.

He couldn't stop himself from seeing the broken look on Tony's face, the tremor highlighting the hurt in his voice before the anger set in. He closed his eyes at a stop sign in an attempt to clear his mind of the awful vision, but the image was back a moment later in even more vivid detail. His hands were shaking and every breath felt like an effort. He couldn't see Tony like this. He needed to collect himself, at least, before he did even more damage due to his over emotional state.

Punching the bag into the early morning hours he came to the realization that maybe Steve Rogers never woke up from the ice, maybe it was only Captain America here now, master at compartmentalizing, denying himself for the good of everyone else, insulating himself from his deepest desires because those wants weren't conducive to the norm. Because Steve Rogers wouldn't have used a friend like that, Steve wouldn't have taken what he wanted and the hell with everyone else, and Steve wouldn't have hurt someone he cared about so badly. Steve had always known what he wanted without doubt and without confusion, getting it had been a different story, but he'd never wavered in his convictions or his attempts. Maybe Steve had died that day with Bucky, letting all of his hopes and dreams fall into the depths of that icy ravine, and maybe Dr. Erskine had been wrong about good becoming better.

That's how Natasha found him, still mostly dressed in a tuxedo, soaked with sweat, hands numb and bloody again, after already healing from the atrocity two days ago, and so disgusted with himself that he could hardly think anymore, every thought more painful than the previous.

"Let's talk, Steve." She said in that 'don't even think of arguing with me' voice she used almost daily with Clint. She completely understood the need for working the body hard as a method of soul searching, had been there herself more times than she wanted to remember, but Steve looked like he'd passed that point a while ago and was on the verge of snapping. When he turned from the bag to face her she tossed a water bottle to him and sat gracefully on the floor mat.

His face was nothing short of pure torment as he approached and dropped to the mat beside her. If she had to guess, she would say he had finally realized his feelings for Stark and that his actions with Bennett did as much damage as the outright violence that followed. Thinking back to a conversation months ago about homosexuality, the church, the military and Steve's contorted look of unasked questions she also guessed he was having difficulty rationalizing his newfound feelings with his faith. It was bullshit and narrow minded, but he was raised in a time when that was common.

"Sexuality is a pretty complex thing Steve; it can be difficult to reconcile with one's faith, but it's ludicrous to think of it in terms of right and wrong." She paused for effect, knowing she'd caught him off guard with that opener, but she also didn't want him to feel like he had to defend his feelings.

The look he gave her was, if possible, even more tortured. Sweet Jesus, these two boys needed to pull their heads out of their asses and just get together already. She would do anything she could to help, but Stark was so self-deprecating sometimes and Steve was mistakenly bound to some weird sort of 40's convention that she would definitely have her work cut out for her.

"I understand that may be a bit more difficult for you, based on when you grew up, but you're hurting more than just yourself by denying it." Her eyes bore into him, challenging him to argue, but her tone was oddly soft. "Accept it and move on from there, what other choice do you have?" It might seem like a cold approach to take, but this was Cap, and he understood and appreciated a swift and precise appraisal of any situation because no matter what else he was, he was a damn fine soldier as well.

She was right. Of course she was right. So many things had changed and he needed to wrap his head around that, but why was it so hard? Why was it so easy for him to accept the existence of aliens, gods even, but not that he was attracted to men, to Tony? How could something that felt so perfect, before he'd destroyed it or even realized how he felt about it, be so wrong? He realized then that he had been fighting himself all along. That him thinking he was just having fun, letting off steam with Tony was his minds way of trying to deny who he wanted and essentially what he was. And just when he figured out how long he'd been fighting it, he felt tired. Tired of the struggle to deny, deny, always deny. Tired of pretending to be something he wasn't. In so many quiet moments with Tony, sometimes intimate but sometimes not, he had been able to just be himself. There was nothing he could do about the fact that he had been too stupid to realize it then. He would forever regret it, but that wouldn't help him move forward, and it was definitely time to start living the life he was meant to.

Hopefully he could earn Tony's forgiveness, he didn't deserve it, but he would spend eternity trying to make it up to him.

"I really messed things up, Natasha," he admitted almost shyly.

"You mean with Stark or with agent Belly Button?" She knew what he meant, of course, she was highly trained at reading people, Stark aside (and she would get to that in a minute), but she couldn't resist.

"Well, both," he huffed a small, embarrassed laugh. "I meant with Tony though." He stared down at his hands, at his long fingers curved around the bottle of water. This was about to be the most uncomfortable conversation he'd ever had with another person, but it was high time he admitted it out loud.

"I didn't even realize I was in love with him until tonight." It came out so unlike him, so weak, but at least he'd said it. Once that hurtle was over the rest came tumbling in its wake. "How the hell could I be feeling something like that and not even know it? I had everything I've always wanted…the intimacy, the bond, the mutual love and trust and I didn't see it until it was too late." He shook his head in disgust then opened the bottle in his hand and took a sip.

"When I look back it's so obvious but why couldn't I have seen it then?" He finally looked up at her, not really for an answer to his question, more just to find some small comfort in sharing his deepest secrets with another person. "It feels like I don't know myself at all; like I'm not sure who I even am anymore."

"The human mind is capable of repressing many things Steve—fear, grief, sadness, truth. I've seen it many times, in friends and enemies alike." As she spoke she reached out and covered his hand lying listless on the mat. She squeezed it briefly before continuing, "Don't beat yourself up over it, you've been conditioned to repress your feelings since before you were old enough to even realize it. Now that you do though, you can work on changing it."

"I've been a sinner all along; I've just been telling myself—fooling myself—that it wasn't what I really wanted or who I really was. I hurt the person I care most about in this world because I was too ignorant to figure that out on my own." He looked down again as he starting picking at the label on the water bottle, too embarrassed to say what he was about to while looking at her but taking a steadying breath to continue. "I let myself believe I was just like the guys during the war, relieving a little tension, sexual tension, and having some fun until the right girl came along." The back of his neck and tips of his ears were warm and no doubt very red at the confession.

"I didn't do…that, back then, because I had met the right girl, or so I thought. She was worth waiting for, and I'm glad I did wait. Then I woke up here, in this time, and everything is so different and when I had the chance I took it because I knew there was no one waiting for me or that I was waiting for." He tore the tattered remains of the label from the bottle in his hand and set it down before he ended up throwing it against the wall. "But it was wrong—I was wrong—being with him before, and how I want to be with him now goes against everything I was brought up to believe, goes against my faith. It's a sin no matter how I try to justify it."

"Steve," she reached out again to cover his hand and he realized that both of his hands were now clenched into very tight fists, knuckles white and straining. "I'm not a religious person, but even I know the Catholic Church considers 'any sexual act not relating to procreation by a couple joined under the sacrament of matrimony' as sinful." He would wonder later at her word perfect quote of scripture. "So that is a rule you'll break, a sin with either a man or a woman or yourself Steve, and yet you'll keep yourself from happiness with Tony based on the same scripture or doctrine that you follow sometimes and stray from at others? And as someone who wants to follow the faith so carefully, how do you explain Thor?" she asked, echoing his own internal questions, and he had to look away at the slight blush, something he had never seen or expected to see on her. Honestly, his face was equally as pink listening to her talk about sex and masturbation.

He was trying to think of a way to change the subject before it got any more uncomfortable, but she started to speak again. "There are Christian denominations that feel differently, you can still be a man of faith and be with the man you love. Wouldn't it be worse denying him and yourself only to spend the rest of your life fighting it?" She added, blush fading and eyes boring into his.

She definitely wasn't pulling any punches, but that was never her style and he did appreciate it, no matter how hard it was to hear. He understood where she was coming from and she had made some very valid points, but he didn't want to continue discussing the rights and wrongs of his poor choices anymore. He had some thinking to do on his own.

"Yes, that would be worse. But this isn't a fairytale, Natasha. There might not be a happy ending." He didn't think he deserved one, but he chose not to voice that particular sentiment.

"Isn't it though?" She smirked, and the lightness of her expression was a welcome change. "Once upon a time a soul-strong but body-weak young man dreamed of becoming more, stronger, to fight for his country and help defeat evil." The left side of her mouth twisted slightly into an impish grin before she raised both hands, splaying her fingers wide and continuing, " Poof…along comes his fairy god…father, Dr. Erskine, and the young man is transformed into everything he ever dreamed of being."

Her playful look intensified and she went on, "shall I continue with the enchanted sleep and knight in shining armor metaphors or are we good here?" She laughed and he was so glad to have found a friend like her. He wasn't sure he believed in fairy tales, but once again she had a very good point. She was trying to lighten the mood, so he didn't ask in what version of any fairytale the knight or prince was punched within an inch of his life by the…princess…heroine…lady of the tale, because yeah, Tony was definitely the hero in any story about the two of them.

"Steve…" All traces of the light hearted look from a moment ago were gone. "Stark is very difficult to get a read on, trust me, I'm speaking from experience. He spews so much bullshit with such bravado and arrogance that it's nearly impossible to weed out the truth, but if someone really listens, it is there." She sighed deeply, and he guessed she was thinking back to the evaluation she had written stating Tony should not be considered as a candidate for the Avengers. "It's all a front, a real life mask he's worn for years to protect the truth of who he really is. The surface arrogance is a defense, even though he's one of the few people who can actually back up every word of it, and he uses it to hide an almost selfless benevolence. And it works very well, too well sometimes, because he's so Goddamned infuriating that most people don't want to look any deeper."

"He's very good at nearly everything he does, Steve, and that includes hiding the truth. Don't be angry with yourself for not seeing through it. I was, at first. I couldn't believe that I had misjudged him so badly, and it led to a few sleepless nights and far too many doubts about my skills. The thing I realized, though, is that he's allowed to be better at some things than I am. He's brilliant and when he sets his mind to something his skills are as unequalled as they are unstoppable. Think about that, give him the credit he deserves instead of finding fault with yourself."

"Thank you." It was a simple statement but one that ran deep and he was certain she heard it for all that it was. She should really consider therapy as an alternate career choice, but he didn't think he needed a therapist or even a priest right now. He knew what was right for him in that moment…Tony. Tony was everything and convention be damned. Look, two sins in the same sentence and he was surprisingly okay with that…

"Don't thank me just yet." She said gravely, looking at him a little too intently, an obvious prelude to something unwelcome. He had a bad feeling about her next words and was more than a little wary. Seconds ago he had found a sort of inner peace, something he had sought for months and he couldn't help feeling like it was about to be taken away.

"The look on your face tells me you're coming to terms with your feelings, and I'm glad for that Steve. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially now, but there is something I've wanted to talk to you about." He had forgotten her mentioning it in his confusion over his relationship with Tony. He nodded for her to continue and braced himself, for what he had no idea, but it certainly wasn't going to be good.

"There isn't an easy way to say this…Tony was eleven when his jaw was broken the first time. It was a result of a fight with his father." She paused, letting the horror of that sink in. "That information is buried very deep, and it seems as though that wasn't the only injury…"

He could feel how wide his eyes had grown, it was bordering on uncomfortable. He knew where she was going and he did not want to hear any more. "Stop…please." It wasn't that he doubted what she was saying; just that he didn't actually want to hear her say it. He didn't need details to understand what she meant. Howard had abused Tony. There was no way she would be telling him this if she wasn't absolutely certain of it. Tony had hinted at it, referring to Howard as a bully, and not only hadn't Steve believed him, he had been mad a Tony for lying.

He remembered the genius's words from that day…No wonder you and my bastard of a father got along so well. Oh God, he had done the same thing Howard did. Someone Tony should trust, should have felt safe with, had done this to him—twice.

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. The memory of Tony's face as he said those words was too much. His gut clenched tight and he had no time to even move before the contents of his stomach escaped at last. He threw up on himself and on the mat; luckily Natasha was quick enough to avoid the same fate. It was hot and disgusting but nothing compared to what he felt inside. Tony had been right about absolutely everything and he had… he had…fuck! He had put him in the hospital for it.

"Steve, hey…Shhh," she said, scooting closer again, around the stinky mess and rubbing his back they way he saw her sometimes do with Clint. He realized then that he was close to crying and she was trying to comfort him. He didn't deserve comfort ever again, not from anyone.

"You couldn't have known, he didn't want anyone to know and he never would have told you. He loves you, Steve. I think he's loved you for a very long time and that never changed despite your friendship with Howard. He chose to let you have your good memories of him instead. If he wasn't so upset about seeing you with Bennett that day I doubt he would have ever said anything like that."

He thought back to some of his and Tony's 'arguments' about Howard. They really were all pretty one sided, with Tony never really saying much, often a scoff at best, but just the fact that he didn't agree with Steve about how wonderful Howard was made the soldier angry and caused him to be disappointed in the son.

Could he seriously have been that wrong about everything…been that stupid and that blind? He felt lower and more worthless than ever. He didn't deserve Tony's forgiveness and he didn't deserve Tony's love…if he even still felt that for Steve.

"I have to see him, Natasha, and I need your help to do that. Clint is most likely there with him and Miss Potts left about the same time as Dr. Banner last night, so she may be checking on him as well." He was unworthy and undeserving, but Tony wasn't, he deserved an apology and Steve felt like it was so long overdue that waiting another few hours until daylight was too long. He just needed to clean himself up first.

"One last piece of advice, Steve, and then I'll help any way I can." She gave him a strong, candid look, and he acknowledged his agreement with an eyebrow, he would take any counsel she had to give. "His past made him who he is today, made him the man you've fallen in love with. And, yes, he's wealthy and handsome and incredibly smart, but loving him because of that isn't enough. Those are things everyone sees in him, and he knows it, he needs to know that you see past that. And he'll fight you on it, because that's all he sees as worthy about himself."

A/N: Seriously, thanks so much to everyone who left feedback of any kind, it is helpful and encouraging :)