Tony Stark liked to make an entrance.
Or, at least, he'd grown accustomed to the idea that he should make an entrance.
Tonight, though, was about Steve, so rather than arrive after the reception opened, Tony had come to the gallery with Steve earlier and commandeered one of the sales offices, where he caught up on the administrative tasks he could never get rid of entirely, no matter how much of the load Pepper shouldered.
Finally, his phone buzzed gently, the alarm signaling that he should get out onto the gallery floor for the big reveal.
For once, Tony had no idea what piece would be the big reveal. He'd seen most of the works in the exhibition, of course – maybe all, but he honestly hadn't paid attention to which were going in the exhibition and which weren't – but Steve had deliberately kept him from seeing one.
"I want it to be a surprise," he'd said, and Tony would do a lot for his sentinel that he wouldn't do for anyone else.
So he'd exerted an immense amount of self-control, if he did say so himself, over the last few weeks and not even gone near the piece that would be revealed tonight. He'd even made sure to distract himself while Steve was working on it so he wouldn't be tempted to spy on it through their bond.
Now, as he straightened his suit jacket, Tony hoped he liked the painting as much as Steve appeared to think he would.
At the end of the short corridor that led from the offices to the main floor, Tony paused and extended his psionic senses. Doing so had become habitual any time he was going anywhere new, or anywhere a group he didn't know had gathered.
He didn't expect anything unusual tonight – it was a gallery exhibition, after all – but still he checked, just to be sure.
He found Steve immediately and exchanged a brief psionic touch with him before Steve returned to speaking with the gallery owner, then spread his senses wider. Tony found a very amused Eddie Diaz next, and Eddie's amusement made him smile a little. He and Eddie had a similar sense of humor, and he looked forward to finding out what had Eddie amused this evening.
Then – and how had he not felt this sooner? – Tony felt the presence of another guide. His first impression was of controlled power. His second was that the other guide might be even more powerful than he himself.
Eddie Diaz's amusement would have to wait.
Tony threaded his way through the crowd, snagging a flute of champagne on his way, projecting a subtle nobody special vibe to discourage anyone from recognizing him or making a scene if they did.
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to find that the guide stood with Eddie Diaz, both of them studying a painting of a female soldier in a hospital bed. From this angle, all Tony could tell of the guide was that he had short dark blonde hair, broad shoulders, and stood a couple of inches taller than Eddie.
"She met us at the airport," the man was saying. "And you served with her?"
"She's one of the people I pulled out of the helicopter," Eddie replied quietly. "The incident they gave me the jewelry for. I – didn't really see her, after. I mean, I was in pretty bad shape, myself, and then I was discharged."
"I'm surprised the Army didn't bend over backwards to try to keep you."
"They tried," Eddie replied. "But the injuries were severe enough that they couldn't justify it. And I didn't push to stay in – I wanted to get home to Christopher."
That was as good an opening as Tony was likely to get, so he closed the distance to them. When he got close enough, he asked, "How is everyone's favorite ray of sunshine?"
Both men turned to face him, and now Tony saw that the guide – Eddie's guide, presumably, though he didn't sense a bond between them – had bright blue eyes and a port wine birthmark over his left eye. He also, at the moment, wore a somewhat dumbfounded expression.
"Probably already asleep, thanks to traveling all day," Eddie replied with a grin. He sobered momentarily. "Buck, Tony Stark. Tony, my guide, Evan Buckley. He prefers Buck."
"Good to meet you, Buckley," Tony said. He'd come up with a proper nickname for the other guide later. Probably. He still hadn't nicknamed Eddie, which was unusual for him.
Buckley managed, "Uh – and you, Mr. Stark."
"Mind fully blown?" Eddie asked casually, though he couldn't quite hide a smirk.
"Yeah," Buckley admitted. "You were right. Mind blown."
Eddie's smirk became a self-satisfied grin, and Tony resolved to find out what that was about.
Before he could ask, though, the clink of metal against crystal echoed through the room. Eddie winced, and Tony couldn't say he found the sound altogether pleasant, either.
But it did what it was meant to do by silencing the crowd and pulling them toward an accent wall near the back of the gallery, where black curtains concealed, presumably, the painting Tony hadn't yet seen.
Abandoning Eddie and his guide for the moment, Tony slipped through the crowd once more, so that he could be close to Steve if needed.
The gallery owner, a polished woman Tony knew to be in her late forties though she looked about ten years younger, smiled as she set aside the spoon she'd tinged her glass with.
"First, I want to thank you all for coming," she said.
Tony held back a snort, but only because letting it out would probably dispel the nobody here vibe he still projected. Nobody who'd gotten an invitation to Steve Rogers' first gallery showing would've refused it without a fantastic reason like, say, a heart attack.
"We all know about Captain Steve Rogers' military service," the owner – Terri? Teresa? Something like that – said, her smile slipping into a more somber expression. "Of his heroism with the Howling Commandos, and ultimately of his sacrifice in the line of duty."
There was a spattering of quiet applause and a few murmurs, as though nobody entirely knew how to react to her words. Tony reached out to touch Steve psionically, in case his sentinel needed comfort or reassurance or anything, really, but Steve seemed settled and comfortable, so Tony tried to focus on the gallery owner – Terri, for sure – as she spoke again.
"More recently," and now Terri's smile was back, "we all rejoiced at his unexpected return, alive and well."
This time, the audience knew what to do – applaud with genteel enthusiasm. From where he stood to Terri's left, Steve nodded an acknowledgment, and the noise subsided.
"What we didn't know," Terri continued, "is that, once upon a time, Steve Rogers wanted to be an artist. He spent hours in museums, studying the masters and, when he could afford it, buying paper, pencils, and paints to practice his own skills. Unfortunately, the Great Depression meant he had to focus on other things – and then the war came, and he never had the chance to develop his talent."
The crowd aww-ed, and Tony winced at the embarrassment on Steve's face. Steve might be somewhat used to being a celebrity, but Terri was telling personal things. Tony understood the need to sell the art by selling the artist, but Steve apparently hadn't realized that was a thing this century.
"Now, though-" Terri's smile was back in full blinding force "-he's had the opportunity to do just that. Tonight, we're proud to host the exhibition of Warriors, a collection of Captain Rogers' portraits of many of our brave servicemen and women, showing their lives as only a fellow warrior can. You may have seen some of these portraits before, on the covers of various military and news magazines-"
Tony would bet all of Howard's money that no one in the room – with the exception of him, Eddie, and maybe Eddie's guide – had. Ever.
"And tonight, I'm very pleased to present the newest addition to the Warriors collection, a piece Captain Rogers told me has special significance for him. Ladies and gentlemen, Rescue."
With a graceful but unnecessary flourish, Terri pulled the cord to open the curtains concealing the painting.
Tony had resolved to like – or at least appreciate – whatever this final piece was, despite not knowing even its title, because Steve had painted it. Partners supported each other, right?
He wasn't prepared for his own face to be staring out of the painting.
Even more surprisingly, Eddie Diaz's portrait took up the corner opposite Tony's own – and instantly, exactly which rescue the title referred to was obvious.
The painting depicted the moment that Eddie fell to his knees beside Tony that day in Afghanistan, the bits of that first set of makeshift armor leading the eye toward the two figures that took pride of place.
Tony could only stare at it as fragments of memories of that day surfaced in his mind – and not just that day, but the days before it, the determination to save himself if no one else would or could, and the grief at Yinsen's death that drove his ultimate destruction of the terrorist camp.
Before he could break down, a warm hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. He didn't have to look up to know Eddie Diaz had come to stand beside him.
"Will you tell us why this painting means so much to you, Captain?" Terri asked, her voice unusually somber.
"So many reasons," Steve said, drawing Tony's attention away from the painting. Eddie's hand remained on his shoulder, and he was grateful for the other man's steady presence.
"Some of them are selfish, I suppose," Steve continued with a self-deprecating grin. "We all know the contributions Tony Stark has made to clean energy, philanthropic work, and protecting and defending our troops overseas – they wouldn't have happened if he hadn't made it out of Afghanistan. More importantly to me, if he hadn't made it out of Afghanistan, I'd still be buried in ice."
Tony winced at the thought, and Eddie squeezed his shoulder.
"Not that I'd know that if I were," Steve continued with a chuckle. "But I would want to be home, to be buried with my family, not somewhere in Greenland. As it is, I'm very pleasantly surprised – and grateful – to be alive to paint this as thanks to the man who has become my partner in life, and to the team who brought him home."
The applause hit him like a wave, and Eddie's hand tightened on his shoulder – not in reassurance this time, but in the grip he'd used when he'd been one of Tony's bodyguards, the grip that would let him hustle Tony out of the room quickly if needed.
Tony appreciated the sentiment, even if it was misplaced in this crowd of wealthy art patrons, but his attention was on Steve.
Steve held his gaze long enough, intensely enough, that heat pooled in Tony's gut.
Then Steve strode down from the dais and past him to wrap Eddie in his arms, his murmured, "Thank you," barely reaching Tony over the still-clapping crowd.
Before Tony registered what was happening, Steve had pulled him away from Eddie to embrace him, the touch deepening their psionic connection.
Then Steve's lips were on his, and Tony forgot where he was.
*BREAK*
It wasn't until they'd gotten to Stark Tower, checked on Christopher in the child care suite, ridden the elevator to an apartment on the seventy-fourth floor, closed the door behind them and activated the white noise generators for privacy – more to keep Eddie from hearing whatever Steve and Tony might be doing than anything else – that Buck finally cracked.
"What the hell, Eds?"
Eddie grinned as he undid the knot from his tie and slid the silken material from around his neck. "Can you be more specific?"
"Right. Okay. Specific. I can be specific." Buck blew out a breath and shed his jacket, tossing it over the back of an armchair. "I get that you were part of the team that rescued Stark. How did you get from there to here?"
Eddie shucked his jacket in turn, laying it neatly beside Buck's.
"You want a beer?" he asked. "Or something stronger?"
"Beer's fine. Don't avoid the question!"
"I'm not," Eddie protested. "Just being a good host. Get comfortable, I'll be right back."
He headed for the kitchen, dropping his cufflinks onto the end of the bar and rolling up his sleeves before he opened the fridge.
As expected, it was well stocked – including his favorite brand of beer. He pulled out two bottles, forced himself not to open them off the edge of the kitchen counters but instead find and use a bottle opener, and headed back to the living room.
Buck had lined his shoes up beside the armchair where their jackets and ties had ended up, so Eddie toed his off there as well and crossed to the sofa where Buck had claimed one corner.
Eddie handed him the bottle and took the other corner, shifting his position so that he faced Buck. Buck mirrored him.
"So?" Buck prompted.
Eddie took a swallow of beer, savored the hoppy, wheaty taste, and dove in. "That rescue before the one I got the Silver Star for, when I came online? It was when we rescued Tony from Afghanistan."
Buck stared at him. "And you're not compatible?"
Eddie chuckled. "He and I couldn't be less compatible, psionically, if we set out to be. I've told you that before – you don't need to be anxious about my relationship with him."
Buck relaxed so subtly that even Eddie's enhanced senses almost missed it, but he kept any relief from his tone when he spoke. "Okay. That's step one. Step two?"
"Step two began with a knock on my door the day I woke up to find my wife had left me overnight. I'd just gotten home, not even halfway recovered from combat injuries, and suddenly, I had a disabled four-year-old to take care of when I could barely take care of myself."
Eddie told him everything – the search for Steve Rogers, helping Steve acclimate to the modern world, the divorce from Shannon and the issues with his parents, the move from El Paso to LA, working for SI while he trained to be a paramedic, then ultimately joining the fire academy, leaving out only those things personal to Steve or Tony that weren't his to tell.
By the time he finished, his bottle was empty. He rose and held out his hand for Buck's. "Another?"
Buck handed his bottle over with a shake of his head, and Eddie padded on stocking feet back to the kitchen to rinse the empty bottles and put them in a recycling bin.
Buck still hadn't said anything by the time Eddie sat back down, the few feet of upholstery separating them seeming infinite. Even Buck's psionic profile was still.
When the silence stretched uncomfortably long, Eddie cleared his throat.
"I get it," he said softly. "It's a lot, and I understand if you can't-"
"Eddie – Eds – no, that's not-" Buck broke off with a harsh sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "It's just – how-"
He took a breath, then held out a hand. Eddie raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Please, Eddie," Buck murmured. "I need for us to be private for this. Completely private."
Eddie took his hand, and a moment later found himself on the psionic plane with Buck and their spirit animals. Unlike their first visit to the plane, this time their spirit animals simply sat next to each other, their bodies pressed together.
Buck ran a hand through his hair, bringing it to rest on the back of his neck. "It's not that you're best buds with Tony effing Stark and Steve effing Rogers, Eddie. Honest."
"But it's something," Eddie declared flatly.
"It's-" Buck waved that hand in a helpless gesture. "How am I supposed to live up to that?"
"Buck," Eddie began, then corrected himself. "Evan. There's nothing to live up to."
"Iron Man and Captain America!"
"Tony and Steve," Eddie said quietly. "And it's not like I asked Tony to belly flop into my life."
Buck snorted a laugh, but his eyes remained serious. "I'm just a failed savior sibling, you know? I don't deserve any of this."
"I didn't know, and we'll talk about it - but you think I do? Deserve it, I mean?" Eddie shook his head. "I don't think so; I've just learned not to argue with Tony. And honestly – for all that he's Tony Stark, he's still just…well, just Tony, a guy who likes beer and whiskey, who'll argue whether Kravitz or Campbell is the better guitarist for hours. Who likes to tinker in his workshop more than almost anything else in the world. And who sometimes flies around looking like the very model of a modern techno-marvel Gryffindor."
Buck laughed again, unwillingly, and Eddie took a step closer to him. He flinched, but didn't back away.
"Evan." Eddie offered a hand, palm up, and, with sudden and complete certainty, spoke the old words. "I would bond with thee, guide."
"You can't possibly want…" Buck's voice trailed off and Eddie heard the unspoken final word: me.
"I would bond with thee, guide," he repeated. "Will thou have me as thy sentinel?"
"Even knowing that I failed the thing I was born for?"
"Evan." Eddie blew out a breath, though that action had no physical manifestation on this plane. "I don't know the details, but I do know that you are not responsible for any treatment that didn't work. How could you be? That would be like everyone in California being responsible for the earthquake."
"Some people would say that," Buck muttered.
"And some people are ignorant, or else just assholes," Eddie said fiercely. "If the situation was so desperate that your parents resorted to that, the odds were against it from the start. Honestly, if it had succeeded, it would've been a miracle."
"You think so?" Buck asked, his tone reminding Eddie of Christopher during his toddler years.
"I know so." Eddie put all the certainty into his words that he could. "It's never your fault, no matter what anyone else says."
Buck looked at the hand Eddie still held extended.
"We agreed to wait until we were comfortable with each other," Buck said. "Are you sure?"
"I've rarely been more certain," Eddie declared. "You're a good man, Evan Buckley. My son adores you, and you feel the same about him, which is all that I could want from a life partner. If we wait or we don't, my choice is still the same. I would bond with thee, guide. Will thou have me as thy sentinel?"
Buck drew a shaky breath. "I would bond with thee. I would have thee for my sentinel."
Eddie stood still, waiting, and after a moment, Buck offered his opposite hand to Eddie. In the same moment, they clasped both pairs of hands. A heartbeat later, each of them took a step forward, and in the next instant, their spirit bodies had joined.
In all the training Eddie had had, whether from his grandmother or any other source, no one had ever told him what to expect when he bonded except that it would be intense and his life would never be the same afterward.
Now he understood why. Beyond the oddity of knowing another person as well as he knew himself, or even better, the experience felt deeply, intimately, private. Even if he could find words to describe it, he'd never speak them aloud to anyone else, not even his son.
Maybe your son.
The thought wasn't his, and he swallowed hard at the intimacy inherent in Buck's offer.
Maybe, he thought back. But it'll be like the sex talk on steroids.
Buck's amusement solidified into laughter as their spirit bodies separated, though they remained closer than they had been before, and Eddie couldn't help smiling in response.
They stayed like that for a long moment, hands clasped at their sides. Then Buck sobered, just briefly.
"Forgive me," he murmured, and before Eddie could ask what for, Buck pressed his lips to Eddie's.
Oh.
Eddie responded without conscious thought, deepening the kiss, then dropping Buck's hands only to pull the other man closer, as though to merge again.
They didn't, though – too lost in the sensation of each other, the psionic reflection of the physical action, to focus the intent to merge.
After too long and still not long enough, the kiss ended, and Eddie met Buck's apologetic gaze.
"Hey, none of that," Eddie said firmly.
"I just – I shouldn't have done that without asking, but it felt right," Buck said.
"It was right," Eddie assured him. "I could've stopped if I'd wanted."
He leaned in for another kiss, shorter but no less sweet than the first one.
"It is right," Eddie said when their second kiss ended, the instant depth of their bond fueling his certainty. "Everything we do together is right."
The psionic plane carried his meaning better than mere words ever could. Buck stilled. "Everything?"
"Everything," Eddie confirmed, though he flushed with embarrassment before adding, "even if I'm not ready to…do…everything just yet."
"It's not that hard, Eds," Buck said gently. "Humanity – Protector or otherwise – has been doing everything since the dawn of time."
Eddie swallowed hard. "I know. I just – don't want to disappoint you."
Buck's smile was like the dawn. "Promise that we'll work on things together, and you'll never disappoint me."
It was an easy promise to make, and Eddie sealed it with another kiss.