On Monday, he misses two calls from Tony and then gets a text in the evening that says, "I've been home for three whole hours and you're still not naked in my bed. Something wrong?"

He hasn't dealt with anything head on in so long. Since New York, really. And he remembers how good that felt, but it's still hard to motivate himself to take charge anymore. Something's broken in him now. He wakes up every morning feeling guilty and hopeless.

But not today. Today he's angry too. And it's not even justified anger but he wants to nurse it anyway because it's the closest he's felt to being himself in quite a while. Today he's going to go over there and demand an explanation, an actual, honest explanation, because he deserves that much at least. Just because he never thought to ask if Tony was seeing someone else doesn't mean he didn't have a right to know.

But first he has the stupid graphic design class that he's stupidly going to attend, even though he's going to make a fool of himself. But, that's fine. He's good under pressure, after all. And he's punched Hitler over 200 times. If the computer doesn't do what he wants, he'll just punch it and pretend it broke. That's a good strategy. He's good at strategies.

He doesn't answer the text.

He does show up twenty minutes early, in the hopes that he'll be able to explain his ineptitude to the instructor, and finds himself walking in on a previous class. So he waits in the hallway, sketching broken things.

He keeps coming back to the question of why Tony didn't tell him he was going to the Academy Awards. Because he can explain away the rest of it, if he tries, but that's the part that doesn't make sense. Or rather, it makes a lot of sense. He'd never expect Steve to be watching.

That's what he keeps coming back to. That's what convinces him Tony has to be hiding something.

He's glad for the distraction when the class starts. There's nothing to be gained by focusing on suspicions, and he knows that, and he can't seem to stop it anyway.

He walks up to the instructor, introduces himself with a handshake and explains how little he knows, how he still hasn't mastered a single programming language. And the instructor looks at him, confused, and then blinks.

"We're not coding in this class," he says. "You'll be fine."

"Then -" Steve stops, realizing that it's probably not a good idea to end that sentence with 'how am I supposed to do anything.' He's sure he can figure it out, and if not they'll just have to show him. "Thank you."

He can feel everyone's eyes on him as he slowly takes a seat. This is why he wanted to come in early.

He doesn't want to draw more attention to himself, but that doesn't excuse good manners. So he turns to the guy next to him, a kid with dark hair, skinny like Steve used to be, and introduces himself.

"Um, Daniel," the kid says, not meeting Steve's gaze, hesitantly shaking his hand. "Uh, nice to meet you."

He swallows, feeling completely out of place, and turns to the computer instead, determined to figure out how to use it if it kills him.

It doesn't. It's actually very simple. Tony's clearly been lying to him about how to use a computer. Of course, he's clearly been lying to him about other things too.

Even the program they're using is amazingly easy to figure out after weeks and weeks of trying to navigate Tony's system. He just clicks on things, and they work. There are even words that pop up when he lets the mouse sit on one of the pictures along the side, so he doesn't have to remember what they're called.

There's not much instruction, however; they're just introduced to a few of the functions and then told to "explore," his notebook laying next to him with three lonely lines of notes on it.

So he plays around, sees what everything can do. It's so easy to fill things with color, but there's no shading. He assumes they'll teach him how to do that. He adds elements, at random, and then starts over when he doesn't like what they do, because you can't exactly erase some of these things.

He does that four times before Daniel tentatively interrupts. "You can, uh, undo things, you know," he says, raising one hand to point at the screen.

"Oh," Steve says, and then, because he feels the need to cover up his lack of knowledge. "Thank you. I've never used this program before."

"Oh, uh, well, you're pretty good at it, then."

Steve gives him a small smile and a thank you, but he's sure Daniel's just being polite. Particularly when he can still feel the eyes on him. He even catches a few people staring at him throughout the class, like they're wondering why he's there.

He leaves as soon as he can, planning not to come back, and a girl stops him on his way out.

"Hey, uh, some of us are going out for drinks," she says, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "Do you want to come?"

He thinks about it for a split second, and then a second longer. It'd be so easy, to just go out for drinks with people his own age. Forget about Tony for a second. But he's afraid that if he forgets about Tony for even a second, Tony will forget about him forever.

So he declines, politely, entreats her to invite him next time and apologizes for having other plans. And then he calls Tony to let him know he'll be over, keeping his tone neutral and his words short.

He arrives at the tower an hour later, after agreeing to give Tony time to shower and "freshen up" and then meet him in the spacious, neglected office adjacent to his bedroom. He's ready to get this over with.

He walks in, finds Tony sitting in his ridiculously large office chair. And he takes a seat across from him, his own chair thin and without armrests.

"O-kay," Tony says, raising an eyebrow. "So, you're mad at me. But I'm fine with that if you are, I'm a big fan of angry sex."

"Is everything about sex to you?"

"Of course not," Tony says, mouth quirking into a little self-satisfied smile. "Some things are jokes."

Steve ignores that. "I saw you," he says. "On TV."

"Oh." Tony grimaces. "Well, look, I didn't really mean anything I said. It's a – well, it's kind of a persona."

"I don't care."

"But it is. It is strongly to my advantage to have people underestimate me."

"Tony –"

"I mean, if you were the only publically recognized superhero, don't you think it would be a good idea for your enemies to think you're a little bit of a self-centered idiot?"

"Tony," Steve says, a little louder, more forcefully, and Tony finally shuts up. "I don't care what you said. I think you were unnecessarily dismissive of everything that Thor, and Bruce, and Clint and Natasha did, but you're still the one who went on a suicide mission to protect New York from an atomic bomb so I really don't care if you want to act like it was all you."

Tony blinks. "Oh. Okay."

Then he cocks his head. "So then what's the problem?"

"What's your relationship with Pepper?"

Tony smiles. "Why, ya jealous?"

Steve doesn't dignify that with a response.

Tony shrugs. "We're exes, technically, I guess."

"Technically?"

"Well, I mean, we're definitely exes. But not the type where you have to be worried that something'll happen. I'm really not interested in women the same way."

"The same way?"

"You know, romance, whatever. Sexually, sure, but I'm actually much better at being monogamous than anyone has ever given me credit for."

Steve looks at him, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but everything he's saying is ridiculous.

"And I mean, I'm not trying to say I didn't like dating her, because at least we're friends now, but I also kinda feel bad about it, and I'd never do that again."

Steve narrows his eyes. "Why would you feel bad about it?"

Tony sighs. "I uh, knew I was leading her on, but I just kept hoping it'd work out anyway. But, that's a conversation for another time, okay? In answer to your first question, there's nothing between us."

Steve exhales. "That's a good cover story."

"Better as the truth, though," Tony says, narrowing his eyes. "Which it is. What's with the sudden paranoia?"

"Don't act like I'm not justified in being suspicious."

"Oh, the suspicion doesn't bother me." He raises an eyebrow. "Assuming that I'm lying, however, kinda does."

Steve shrugs. He wants to believe him, he really does, but if Tony's lying to his face it's better to get out right now. "You didn't tell me you'd be going to the Academy Awards."

"You didn't ask."

Steve glares. "I shouldn't need to ask about something like that, especially if you're bringing someone else as your date. I don't care if we're not exclusive, that's just common decency."

Tony shrugs. "Look, I figured you'd think it was stupid. I'd have told you, if you'd decided to come with me."

"Now, that's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

Tony gives a little push on his desk, slides the chair over to Steve's side, so he can take his hand and smile condescendingly. "Look, I've enjoyed all of your little hissy fits, really, I have, you're adorable when you're mad. But at this point maybe you could, I don't know, just trust me a little instead of getting upset with me."

Steve sets his jaw and pulls his hand back. "You still should have told me about Pepper."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Should I just tell you about everyone I'm not dating or sleeping with? Is that what you want?"

"If that's the shorter list, yeah."

Tony laughs, a sharp, amused laugh. "Well, how many people are there in the world?"

"I don't know."

"Then let's just say I'm not dating whatever that number is, minus two people."

Steve exhales. "Who's the other person?"

"Me. I can't date myself."

"So then why'd you insist that we're not exclusive?"

"We're not."

"I want to be."

"Really?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Gee, I dunno, you're always getting mad and you won't have sex with me." Tony shrugs. "Thought maybe you were losing interest."

"I – but, we do have sex," he says, and as he finishes that sentence he has the sinking realization that Tony doesn't understand what that means to him.

"Okay, well, I mean, I guess that's sex, and that's great and all," he says, wrinkling his nose. "But I really just want you to rip my clothes off, hold me against the wall, and fuck me."

Steve tries not to let the shock register on his face.

Tony smirks. "We can work up to that. But I'd really like it if you took more initiative."

Steve swallows, feels like he should just take Tony's word for it, but decides not to. "I thought I was supposed to be the girl."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me that you're transsexual now?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Where'd you get that idea?"

"I thought you'd want to penetrate me."

"Yeah, no, I got that. And, for the record, I do. But where'd you get the idea that one of us has to be 'the girl'?"

Steve shrugs defensively. "I don't know. That's how relationships are."

Tony snorts. "Maybe straight relationships. Sometimes."

"Well, I don't know how relationships are supposed to go, okay? I've never been in one."

Tony shrugs. "You're just supposed to do what you want to. And, you know, tell me what you want."

"Okay."

Tony smiles. "So is that what's been up with you?"

Steve shrugs. Nothing's been up with him.

"Well, anyway we're both men, and I personally think that's great. There's no reason to fall into stereotypical roles. I mean, if you really want to –"

"I don't."

"Great. So, uh," Tony says, pausing, drumming his fingers on the table, a little smile playing at his lips. "Have you given any thought to fucking me?"

Steve blushes, because his brain's not the only part of his body that jumped at the idea. And he sighs, because Tony's not going to like his answer. "I don't want to."

Tony's face falls. "Bullshit."

Steve offers a small apologetic smile. "Okay, I do want to. But I'm not going to."

Tony stares at the wall, a strange expression on his face, and then he sighs heavily. "I really didn't want to do this," he says, running a hand through his hair. "But, are you completely sure that you're attracted to me?"

Steve laughs. Tony doesn't.

"I'm serious."

"Of course I'm attracted to you."

"Well, maybe you're not."

"I think I would know."

"It's fine if you're not into guys. I get it. Lots of people experiment. We can still be friends."

"You think I'm not... a queer, just because I don't want to-"

"It's not 'a queer,'" Tony says. "We say gay now. Or bi, if you're into women too."

"You think I'm not... a... bi?"

Tony smirks. "Just bi. Short for bisexual."

Steve sighs. Just like Tony to distract him with something that's completely irrelevant. "Well, I am attracted to you."

Tony squints at him. "Sexually?"

"Yes."

"But are you absolutely, 100% sure? Because you've been making me feel a lot more resistible than I'm used to."

"I have self-control."

"Then stop having that."

He says it lightly but Steve can tell he's still a little doubtful. So he does the only thing he can think of to prove it, which is to take Tony's hand and place it on his lap.

Tony fixes him with a surprised look and Steve's ears get warm. "Just from..."

"Thinking about... you know."

Tony smirks. "Fucking me."

Steve bites the inside of his cheek and nods.

"Well, this really only proves that you get erections too easily," Tony says, still smirking. "And you really don't want to fuck me?"

Steve nods, trying not to lean into Tony's hand as it kneads against his khakis.

"Why not?"

"It's too soon."

Tony rolls his eyes. "You were gonna let me fuck you on the first date."

Steve blushes furiously, pushes Tony's hand away because there's something about the casual way Tony says it that's making his dick throb. "I wasn't."

Tony smirks. "Yeah you were. And you wanted to. Admit it."

"I'm not a –" he trails off, still blushing, wondering how he can finish that sentence without insulting him.

"Person?"

Steve shrugs. "I just wanna do things right."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Well, you've got me, and you've got an erection. That's pretty much how you do it."

"I don't expect you to understand."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Right. Because this doesn't concern me at all."

"It's still my decision."

Tony rolls his eyes again, and then he stands up, making full use of the two steps it takes him to cross the space between them, making Steve doubt his resolve with every movement. "Well," he says, as he helps himself to Steve's lap. "I didn't invite you over here to talk about what youwon't do."

He wraps his arms loosely around Steve's neck, scoots forward so his crotch is pressed right against Steve's, and Steve exhales a little too involuntarily.

"It's all up to you tonight," Tony says, rocking slowly against him. "I'm not gonna do a single thing you don't tell me to."

Steve swallows, aching with need and trying so hard to forestall it. "What if I do something you don't like?"

Tony rolls his eyes and rests his forehead on Steve's. "Nice try, cupcake."

"Oh, and don't worry about holding back," he adds. "I don't mind being roughed up a bit."

On childish principle he wants to turn him down, make Tony work for his affection because heso obviously takes it for granted, but there's this strong, deep-seated need that won't let him do that. This harsh, insistent need that won't let him do anything but hold Tony against him and arch his back searching for more contact.

And he runs his hands through Tony's hair and kisses him, sucking hard against... unresponsive lips.

Tony grins. "I said I wasn't going to do anything you didn't tell me to."

Steve glares. "Kiss me."

He slides his hands under Tony's shirt, running them along his back before dropping them down to pull Tony's hips against him. There's not enough leverage, on the chair, he can't get enough of him.

He stands up, but instead of dropping his feet to the floor Tony wraps them around Steve's waist. So he does the only reasonable thing, he backs Tony against the wall and holds him there, kissing him harsh and aggressive, rubbing against him in short little thrusts, and Tony moans into his mouth.

"Fuck," he pants, pulling away and tightening a hand in Steve's hair. "Can we please reconsider your objections?"

"Did I say you could stop kissing me?"

And Tony grins. "God, I should have done this ages ago."

He carries Tony into the bedroom, drops him on the pillows, and strips as Tony watches, not trying to play it for sexual appeal the way that Tony would because he doesn't know how to do that. He's just taking his clothes off so they won't stand between them.

"Have you ever heard of a position called the Triple Lindy? I bet we could totally pull that off."

Steve rolls his eyes and crawls next to him, kissing Tony's neck as he pushes his shirt up, trying to focus on Tony because he's not going to last much longer.

Then he gets another idea, realizes that it doesn't matter because he'll just get hard again in a matter of minutes.

So he pulls Tony's shirt over his head and then he straddles him. Tony's hands slide up his legs, come to rest on his hips and Tony looks up at him with a little smirk, like he's daring him to protest.

Steve licks his lip and slides a hand through Tony's hair. He knows the words to say, he's just not sure if he'll be able to say that when he so firmly registers it as an insult.

But he tries anyway. "Suck."

Tony smirks, running his hands along Steve's thighs. "Suck what?"

"You know."

Tony smiles. "I want you say it."

"Or," he adds, looking up at Steve through his eyelashes, a coy little smile on his lips, "I suppose you could make me."

He follows the words with a little pressure on Steve's hips, nudging him forward, and Steve swallows.

Tony purses his lips, seductive but also clearly amused. "C'mon baby, what's it gonna be?"

Steve hesitates.

"For clarification, I'm inviting you to fuck my mouth, if you want to."

Steve nods.

"I want you to, if that helps your decision."

Steve nods.

Tony smiles. "I'll start you off, then," he says, and takes Steve into his mouth. And his hands press on Steve's hips, pulling him forward, and then press him back and Steve gets the picture but he still can't wrap his head around the idea of actually doing this.

It doesn't take long, however, for instinct to kick in. He finds his hips moving even without Tony's intervention. And he looks down, expects to feel bad about it but Tony's looking up at him like Steve is everything he's ever wanted, and it's enough to push him over the edge.

Steve rolls off of him, breathing heavily, and watches as Tony licks the last bit of semen from his lip. "A little timid, but it is your first time, so all things considered that was pretty great."

Steve swallows, caught in the post-orgasm haze of wrongness. "You actually like that? But isn't it..."

"Degrading? No."

"Really?"

"Do you think less of me now?"

"No."

"Great. Don't feel degraded at all. Now, one of us still has an erection and I'll give you three guesses as to whose job it is to fix that."

Steve smiles, knowing that if he just ignores it the feeling that he shouldn't be doing this will go away. It always does.

So he pulls Tony's pants off, lowering his face to his thighs, sucking on the sensitive skin there to make him squirm.

"Steve -"

He smiles, spreads Tony's legs so he can have better access, dragging his teeth across his inner thigh. Tony hates it, when he teases him like this, so he makes sure to do it every time.

"Um, while you're down there," Tony says, clearing his throat a little. "Wanna try something new? Ever heard of rimming?"

He hasn't, but Tony explains it, insistently, explains that it's completely safe and fun, and then pleads with him until Steve gives in. "I mean, it's basically just oral," Tony says. "Tons of people do it."

And Steve's hesitant, for a number of reasons, but once he buries his face between Tony's legs and slides his tongue across Tony's soft, pink hole, feels Tony moan and squirm underneath him, he finds himself suddenly okay with it. It's intoxicating, intimate and taboo and terribly arousing, and most importantly Tony loves it, keeps writhing and moaning and trying to force Steve's tongue deeper.

And then Tony asks for Steve's fingers and he has to draw the line there, has to finish Tony with a normal, safe blowjob and himself with his hand so that he won't be tempted to give in to something more.

As soon as they're done Tony straddles him, knees on either side of his stomach, and runs his hands along Steve's chest. "So why no penetration?"

"We're already moving too fast."

Tony rolls his eyes.

"I really care about you. I don't wanna mess this up."

Tony yawns. "If you really cared about me you'd put your penis in me."

"Well, now that you describe it that way."

Tony smirks. "I'm serious, popsicle. I like sex. I like you. I like to have sex with you. Don't give me that chivalry crap."

He has one of his dreams again. He knew they weren't gone, couldn't be, but he's been doing such a good job of making his life be about dating Tony now that he almost thought he'd been able to trick his subconscious into believing the past isn't still haunting him.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, and he sits bolt upright, not sure where he is. And Tony's supposed to be in the bed next to him, but he's not. He's glad for that, a little bit, because it means Tony doesn't have to know.

After a half hour, when Tony hasn't come back, he starts to worry. Sleep's out of the question anyway. At least when he's awake he has some control over his thoughts.

So he gets out of bed, but even with the lights on he can't find any of his clothes. He goes into the bathroom, makes sure Tony isn't in there, and then he tries to open the closet, because other people live here and he's not looking for Tony without some sort of clothes.

"Password?"

He jumps at Jarvis's voice, and then he sighs. "I need clothes."

"I'm not authorized to provide entrance without a password."

He sighs again. "Where's Tony?"

He finds Tony in his lab, bent over a workbench, wrapped in a shirt that's too big for him and awfully familiar. And even as Steve's stuck clutching a sheet around his torso, he can't help feeling a swell of some odd mixture of pride and ownership to see Tony wearing his shirt.

"You got my pants, too?"

Tony jumps, turning around with his fists raised. And he drops them when he sees Steve, gives him a crooked smile. "They're in the wash. Didn't think you'd be up. Also didn't think Jarvis would let you in without telling me. Need a little help tying your toga?"

"Pretty late to be working."

Tony shrugs. "Got an idea. Figured if I went back to sleep it'd disappear."

Steve nods, asks him what he's working on, and Tony gives him some vague answer and he wonders if he's not allowed to be down there. But Tony doesn't ask him to leave, and he points him to the couch and gives him a pad of paper and a drafting pencil. Steve feels quite a bit like he's a small child interrupting important work, but at the same time he's glad he doesn't have to go back to the huge empty room and try to sleep.

It's not too long before Tony comes to look over his shoulder. And Steve's glad that he's just sketching one of the armors, because there were a lot of other subjects playing in his mind.

Tony puts his chin on Steve's shoulder, squints at the paper, and says "do you ever draw me without the armor?"

Steve smiles. "I'm not drawing you."

"Yeah you are. I'm the armor. The armor is me. You can't prove I'm not in there."

Steve leans his head against Tony's. "Okay, I'm drawing you."

"You should draw me without the armor."

"Okay."

"You should draw me naked."

"Nude."

"Can you do it by memory? Or should I pose for you?"

Steve blushes.

"I'll pose for you."

Steve forgets to object as Tony's clothes come off. He imagines in real life this would feel taboo, but there's something decidedly dreamlike about being in Tony's lab in the middle of the night. Not to mention, he absolutely wants to draw Tony nude, wants an excuse to linger over every curve of his body.

Tony poses, next to and partially behind the armor that Steve's drawing. "How's this?"

"Perfect."

Tony grins. "I've modeled before," he says, flexing. "But you could probably tell."

Steve rolls his eyes and surveys him. He's posed somewhat conservatively, on a variation of how a normal life model might stand, but everything about him is sexual, somehow. Steve's not sure how that'll come through on paper. If he'll look as pornographic on the page as he does standing casually in his lab, holding a wrench and staring into the distance.

Tony seems to notice his train of thought. "Should I be erect?

Steve blushes. "No."

Neither of them should be erect, except Steve is going to be, already part of the way there just from the way that Tony's looking at him.

"Fine," Tony says, smirking. "I guess you're the expert."

Steve shushes him, looking down at his drawing to see if he needs to erase any of it. He likes the idea of having both of them in the picture, if only so he can insist that they're separate entities, to some extent.

He realizes a few minutes in that Tony's not going to be able to stand there long enough for him to include the kind of detail he wants to. So he stops focusing on perfection and just does a rough sketch, memorizing the details so he can add them in later.

He's right. Tony makes it a full fifteen minutes before declaring the whole thing boring. "Can you talk while you draw? I can talk, right?"

Steve nods. "I'll try to be fast."

"Great. Awesome. Wonderful. So, since we're exclusive, I assume we have to tell everyone, now, right?"

Steve looks up sharply. "No."

"Damn it. A nude drawing would have made a great coming out card."

Steve frowns. "Don't joke about that."

"Oh, come on, I didn't really mean it. But we should tell people we know."

"I'd rather not."

"Well," Tony says, clearly trying to look like he feels guilty. "I kinda told Pepper about you. As in specifically your name. And then confirmation that you were in fact that Steve Rogers. And then, you know, a lot of other things."

"That's okay." He can't hold that against Tony, not when he's been telling Peggy too much for so much longer. "I told Peggy."

He's prepared for the lack of comprehension that crosses Tony's face. He knows he shouldn't have waited this long, but, well, his feelings and relationship with Peggy are so complicated and fragile that he doesn't want to bring it up at all. Except if they're going steady now, Tony deserves to know.

"And Peggy is?"

This feels like the wrong thing to talk about while Tony's naked, while Steve has a decidedly secret erection, like he'd be sullying that relationship with this one. Dragging it through the same immorality.

Tony clears his throat. "Who's Peggy?"

He looks down, shades along the side of Tony's hip. "I knew her from before." He's afraid to tell him. He's afraid to admit that maybe he has something on the side, after all. He's not sure how that works, how loving more than one person is supposed to go. "During the war. I – well, I was in love with her. She's the only really important person from my life back then who's still alive now."

"Oh," Tony says, seeming to relax a bit. "Right. Peggy Carter?"

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

Tony shrugs, and then catches himself. "Sorry, I'll stop moving.. I've met her a couple of times. Only person I respected as a teenager, actually. I don't think I've seen her in maybe twenty years. How is she?"

Steve swallows. "I still love her."

Tony nods.

There's this long pause that's suddenly not as companionable as the previous silence was. And Steve looks at his sketch, cleans it up a bit, and decides that it's close enough to finished. "I'm done."

"Already?"

Steve shrugs. "It's a rough sketch."

Tony walks over, takes a seat next to him, sitting so close that he's almost on top of him, and props his head on Steve's shoulder to look at it. "You're very talented."

Steve shrugs.

"Can I keep it?"

"I'm not done."

Tony cocks his head. "You said you were."

Steve smiles. "I still have to put the clothes on."

The side of Tony's mouth curls up into a smile, and he kisses him, once, chastely. Which is too bad, because Steve has an erection and nothing to do with it.

"What about Happy, and Bruce? And the other Avengers? Can we tell them?"

Steve sighs. "I'd really prefer if we just kept this between us. And Pepper and Peggy, I guess."

"But I can tell Rhodey."

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Ehh, a little too late for that."

"How many people have you told?"

"Just the two, honest. And I mean, Rhodey's my best friend, you can't expect me to keep him in the dark about my life like that."

Steve shrugs. He'd be fine with them keeping everyone in the dark about their life. He knows it shouldn't matter, that it's completely biased of him, but he really doesn't like Rhodey knowing. He's in the military, and Steve doesn't care what their policies are like now, from everything he's read it's still not okay with people like him.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, I told him I was interested in you months ago, so then I kinda had to tell him when you went out with me."

"You didn't have to tell him."

Tony smirks. "Well, I didn't know you'd want to be so secretive about it. Anyway, he thought you were too much of a fine, upstanding citizen to ever be attracted to me. So I had to prove him wrong."

Tony doesn't even seem to notice how awful that is. But Steve's spent enough time thinking he was wrong, he's not going to tolerate it anymore.

"And you're fine being friends with someone who feels that way about queers?"

Tony laughs, a sort of shocked laugh that nevertheless is amused at Steve's expense. "He wasn't talking about your sexuality," he says, patting Steve's head in a condescending sort of way. "He's not homophobic. He just meant that you're too good for me."

"Oh." He sighs, pulling more of the sheet over himself. "Well, he's not wrong."

Tony smirks, drawing his legs underneath himself, and leans against Steve. "You just keep telling yourself that."

Steve's not sure how long they lie there, but it's long enough to get rid of his erection, so he doesn't have to keep holding his arm like a barrier. And he looks down at Tony, who's playing with a bit of the sheet like he can't stay still to save his life, but doesn't want to get up. And it just seems like the right time.

"I love you," he says. His voice seems too loud after all of the silence, somehow.

Tony looks up at him and a slow, broad smile breaks across his face. And he snuggles even closer, resting his head between Steve's chin and his chest and running a hand along Steve's stomach.

But he doesn't say anything.