When Steve opens the door he is still half asleep and very confused by the tall woman dressed in a sharp grey suit with a polite smile on her lips. “Good morning,” she says, and then her eyes leave his face, travel down. Steve is still a tad bit too dazed to be embarrassed for not being properly dressed. HEscrapes his throat. “Good morning?" It sounds like a question to his own ears.
“I'm looking for mister Stark,” she then continues and peers over Steve's shoulder. “Tony Stark?”
“I wouldn't know where he is, miss-”
“Then who's that?” she asks and points past him. Steve turns around and finds a scruffy looking man sound asleep on his couch, shirt undone and pants unzipped. Oh.
“I guess you found him,” Steve smiles and lets her in. She doesn't waste any time, grabs Tony by his shirt collar and yanks at it a few times. Steve feels kind of sorry for him when he startles awake with a curse.
Steve retreats to his bedroom and pulls on some sweats and a t-shirt before going back out.
“You don't have to let him do this,” the woman tells him when he returns. “He's a grown man, he can take responsibility for his actions.”
“It's not really a bother,” Steve shrugs. “Coffee?”
“Maybe another time. We're already late.”
“Suit yourself, ma'am.”
Tony mumbles something as he attempts to lie back down, but the lady gives him a light slap on the cheek. Tony blinks a few times and then glares around him. “Did she leave?” he mutters and the lady rolls her eyes.
“Yes, Tony, she left. You can't impose on your neighbours like this again, okay? You should be happy he doesn't call the cops on you, god knows I would. You need to get up right now. We have a meeting in an hour.”
Steve barely listens to the banter as he makes himself a cup of coffee and wolfs down an apple.
“Bye, Steve,” Tony calls and Steve waves at them as they disappear into the hallway, door closing behind them.
It all started over a month ago, one morning when Steve had left his front door wide open – something he does way too often according to his friends – and Tony Stark wandered in and sat down on his couch. “Do you mind?” he had asked. “I was completely out of it last night and I just need an hour for this girl to get ready and get out of my apartment.”
Steve told him that was a horrible thing to do, but allowed him stay anyway. Maybe Steve didn't mind the company that much. Maybe Tony had really nice eyes.
Tony lived on the top floor, where he had an apartment or studio or penthouse, Steve didn't even know, but it was obvious that he didn't live in a small apartment like Steve did. The man wasn't even around that often due to business, but due to Steve forgetting to lock his door and Tony needing a place to hide, it became a semi regular thing to wake up and find Tony lying on his couch.
“So why don't I ever see a girl walking around here?” Tony asks one morning. He's made himself more than comfortable, feet up on Steve's coffee table and snuggled under a thick comforter he must have stolen out of Steve's bedroom. Steve looks up from his work and smiles before looking back down. “I'm not into girls,” he answers. Over the years he has learned that silence means surprise.
“Heartbreaker,” Tony finally gasps. “How many delicate hearts have you broken with that news, Steve? Girls must be flocking over everywhere you go.”
Steve shrugs. “Not really.”
“Then why is there never a guy here?” Tony continues. “You could be having a guy here every night if you wanted, right?”
“And why would I want that, Tony? So I can wake up and hide out in someone else's apartment until they leave?”
“Low blow. Do you have a boyfriend or not?”
“That's ridiculous,” he says and settles his head into a pillow. “You can't let an ass like that go to waste, Steve. There are men and women out there dying to tap that. Pepper couldn't stop talking about you all day yesterday. She's going to break down when I tell her you're gay. She'll mourn for all womenkind.”
“Is that the girl from yesterday? She's really pretty, Tony. Maybe you should ask her out instead of bringing back randoms every night.”
“Tried that, didn't work out. She's got a new boyfriend now, some stupid guy. A lawyer. Total douche.”
Steve snorts. “Do you even hear yourself? If you're still in love with her you should tell her. Sleeping with a different woman every night and having Pepper her fetch you is not going to help you at all.” He stands up and moves to the small open kitchen to start the coffee machine because this is a lot of conversation for eight a.m.
“I am not still in love with her. I still love her, she's my best friend and all that. She can do better.”
“This may surprise you, Tony, but there aren't that much genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropists around. You're one of a kind.”
“That does not surprise me at all and you better not be making coffee just for yourself-” He's interrupted by a knock on the door and Steve can guess who it is. He catches Tony trying to pretend he's asleep. Steve makes him wail when he snatches away the covers. He lets them fall to the floor as he answers the door.
“Miss Potts,” he smiles.
“Mister Rogers,” she smiles back, “Fully clothed this time. That's a shame.”
Steve's face heats up and he starts to apologize when Tony calls from inside. “He's gay!”
“I see the anti-christ is awake. I'm sorry for the bother,” Pepper says as Steve steps aside to let her in.
“Don't be. Other than him distracting me from my work, he's welcome. Coffee is almost ready if you're not in a hurry.”
“Not necessarily, thank you. What do you do for a living, Mr. Rogers?”
“Please, it's Steve, and I edit comic books.”
“He's the real deal too. Works on the X-Men.”
Pepper seems impressed or is just being polite because from what he's heard from Tony, their job is at least a million times more important and impressive.
“I can see you're not just into comics,” she says nodding towards the drying canvases in the far corner of Steve's living room.
“Those are nothing, really. Personal projects. You into art, Miss Potts?”
“Very much so, actually. I got Tony a rather impressive collection awhile ago and it's buried in storage because this guy right here wouldn't know fine art if it slapped him in the face.”
“It's an investment, I guess-”
“Can you two stop flirting, please, and poor that coffee already. Pepper, I will rat you out to that shark of a boyfriend of yours.” Tony has pulled the covers back up to his chin and has his eyes closed as he speaks.
“I'm sorry,” Pepper says immediately and Steve thinks she must apologize for him a lot.
“You're really don't need to apologize,” he assures her and hands her a mug. “Watch this. Tony, coffee is on the counter.”
“What's it doing there?” Tony grunts.
And with something that resembles a dying whale noise, the man throws the blankets off and joins them in the kitchen.
“If you ever need a job,” Pepper says, hand on Steve's arm. “Give me a call.”
“That's reassuring,” Steve smiles and Tony is glaring daggers at them.
“Did you come all the way here to flirt with my gay neighbour, Pepper, or am I actually needed for anything?” he asks and pours himself a mug. “It's Sunday, isn't it? There are no meetings on Sunday-”
“I'm just checking up on you,” Pepper interrupts. “You disappeared from the party quite early last night. Thought maybe you'd be in a ditch somewhere, but I guess now that you have Steve, those days are over?”
“My couch is more comfortable than a ditch, I guess,” Steve notes and they both look at him with a look he can't really decipher.
Tony is somewhat unpredictable when he comes around. Sometimes he doesn't come for weeks on end – or at least Steve thinks he doesn't come, because he doubts Tony sneaks in and leaves before Steve can wake up – and sometimes, sometimes Steve can wake up and find Tony lying there for seven days in a row.
It's one of those weeks where Tony is there every morning, and simply put, it is not a good time for Steve to have any guests around. It's the end of the month, when he's out chasing after his artists and writers for them to meet their deadlines. It's that one week every month where he sleeps for less than four hours a night, is out before dawn and doesn't come back home until after midnight. It doesn't help that it's getting colder and colder and it now rains most mornings, slowing him down in traffic and even public transportation doesn't work well any more when fall starts.
But then the deadlines work out – for the most part – and they start a new monthly cycle, but not before getting shit drunk with his colleagues as a celebration of surviving another month.
Those celebrations usually end up with Clint going back home with him. He's not completely proud of it, never thought of himself to be someone who'd have a fuckbuddy but that's basically what it is. “Friends with benefits,” Clint had said once. “Calm down, Rogers, no one is going to judge you for wanting some regular sex. You're single and hot and so am I. Let's make the most of it.” Sure, they were both more than a bit tipsy that first time, but some times after that they weren't and it was nice, good, very good even. Still, he couldn't get rid of the feeling he was doing something wrong. He wasn't in love with Clint, though they had turned into pretty solid friends over the past three years, and Clint was not in love with him, that much was obvious.
Clint was pushing Steve into his own apartment, kicked the door shut behind them and the last thing Steve saw was a grin before leaning down and nipping away that smirk. Clint laughed against his lips and tugged on his shoulder. “Steve,” he hears. “Oh my god, Steve.”
It takes a few seconds to realise that Clint's mouth is occupied, so those words must have come from somewhere else.
They break the kiss and Clint pears over Steve's shoulder and then laughs. “Wow, Steve, you shouldn't have brought me if you already had a guy waiting.”
“What?” Steve turns around and freezes. Tony is sitting on the couch, looking at them, eyes big in shock or terror or whatever that is. “Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here.”
The terrified expression disappears and completely drunk takes over. “'S your house, man,” he slurs before tilting over to one side. “Don' let me stop you.”
“Clint, meet my neighbour. I wasn't expecting him here.”
“You guys gonna have gay sex?” Tony slurs with his eyes closed.
“Your neighbour looks like an alcoholic, Steve,” Clint says. “I'm just going to fall asleep, ey.” Clint pats his shoulder and Steve watches him disappear into the bedroom.
“You gonna have gay sex?” Tony repeats, perking one eye open this time.
“Not anymore,” Steve sighs.
“Didn't mean to cockblock,” Tony mutters. “Go ahead, I'll pretend I don't hear. I'd leave if I could walk, but I can't. Barely made it to the couch, y'know. We should all be very happy I haven't hurled. Not yet.”
“Go to sleep, Tony. If I find any puke, you're cleaning it up, I'm warning you.”
Tony swats at him with one hand and catches the edge of Steve's scarf. “Go have gay sex.”
Steve pulls his scarf loose from his neck and Tony doesn't let go, so Steve leaves it there.
There is no sex that night and when Steve wakes up that morning – or is woken up because Clint apparently doesn't need more than two hours of sleep whenever – his head only stings a little bit. Clint is already sitting on the couch with Tony when Steve comes out of the shower. It's an odd sight, mainly because Steve had never imagined Tony to meet any of his friends. But they're sharing coffee and they seem friendly enough.
“Clint is giving me the basics,” Tony says when he sees Steve.
“Basics of what?” Steve asks as he pours himself a mug.
“Gay sex. Apparently I was very curious last night and he thinks you guys could've convinced me of anything if you tried hard enough. And from my own experience, that's probably true.”
“You're giving him the basics of gay sex,” Steve says flatly and Clint just grins and shrugs.
“He asked, I answered. Really, Steve. You need to keep your friends enlightened.”
When Clint leaves only a short while later, Tony stays and he's shooting Steve accusing looks. Steve eventually cracks. “What?” he asks.
“Why don't you tell me anything about your sex life?”
“Why do you even want to hear about my sex life, Tony? That's weird.”
Tony was clearly still nursing what looked like a monstrosity of a hangover but he was surprisingly bright still.
“I'm interested. That guy just now clearly wasn't your boyfriend and you made it pretty clear you weren't one for one night stands either, so what? Fuck buddy?”
“Friends with benefits,” Steve mutters and Tony flings an arm around his shoulder.
“I knew it. I knew a guy like you couldn't go through life holding out. Come on, just a few details. I tell you all about my sex life-”
“Without me asking, yeah.”
Tony leans back into the sofa and rests his head on the back. “I thought we were friends.”
“Don't friends talk about everything?”
“I'm not saying you're not my friend, Tony, but I think normally friends see each other on other occasions than just when you need a place to hide.”
Tony lifts his head and squeezes his eyes shut for a second before talking. And that's the moment, right there, that Steve thinks -while Tony still smells like a weird mixture of booze, more booze and sleep and there's gunk in his eyes, his clothes completely dishevelled and Steve doesn't think he's seen eye bags that big in his life – but that's the moment right there, that Steve thinks wow, you're cute. And that's the moment right there, that Steve knows he's somewhat screwed.
“You've got to stop doing this, man,” Clint tells him Monday morning. They share a work area, much like an office but much, much more chaotic, with two other editors, Darcy and Natasha and sometimes Steve wonders if it's sad that his best friends are his colleagues. “You can't keep turning people gay for you.”
“He's not going to turn gay for me,” Steve sighs. It's the beginning of the cycle, which means work is slow, but mostly because they decide not to do much. “He's got so much going on for him, why would he even risk anything with me?”
“I know you,” Clint says, “and I know that you're not going to sit back and let this blow over. Just be careful and be prepared for the worst.”
Clint does know him, has known him since college and Steve has thought of ways to convince Tony that he could play for both teams. Only thing keeping him from doing it is the fact that Tony hadn't shown any sign of finding men attractive other than the obvious – jealous complaints about why Steve was showing off his 'photoshopped' body in front of a 'flawed mere mortal'.
“Is Steve falling for a straight guy again?” Darcy asks from across the table. She puts down her phone for the first time since she came in and peers at Steve over the stacks of magazines, papers and folders that splits the enormous conference table – which they had become attached to since their interning days and decided they could work with fine– and points a finger at him. “Is it that Stark guy? I can hear the whimpers of all womankind already. Turning single and successful millionaires gay -”
“Billionaire,” Natasha corrects sharply. “He's in the top ten richest. Won't doubt your taste in men again, Steve.”
Clint rolls his eyes and Steve does the same. “Still straight.”
“Maybe so, but pour a few drinks in the guy and who knows,” Clint suggests. “Show him the trick with the banana, no one can resist that. How about it? We celebrate my fake birthday at your place Saturday night and you invite him. I get a present worth a million bucks and you get him drunk enough for cock.”
“Clint, it's not even ten in the morning, please don't talk about fake birthdays,” and cocks, Steve adds mentally.
“My fake birthday then?” Darcy suggests.
“He doesn't even know you,” Clint objects.
The door creaks open and a dishevelled looking young man stumbles in. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Peter pants and Steve bites away a smile, thankful for the interruption.
“Do you have coffee?” Natasha demands without looking up from her computer screen.
“Then you're dead to us,” Clint snaps. “Go away.”
“At least let him settle down,” Steve says and motions for Peter to take a seat. He passes them and mutters a grumpy goodmorning before sitting down at his part of the conference table. “It's shit weather out,” he starts to complain. “Couldn't even get a train until nine and then that piece of shit took an hour to get here.”
“You keep coddling the boy and he'll never learn,” Clint tells Steve, completely ignoring Peter's mumbled string of curses about douche trains.
“He's right, Steve,” Darcy agrees. “Interns should be fed nothing but sarcasm and stress. That's how we got here. We didn't have a Steve to be nice to us and pick up slack. We had a Fury who shot at us with stapling guns and made us drive across town in the middle of the night to deliver him Starbucks in a thermos.”
“Yeah and we weren't too happy about that, now were we?” Steve says because he can remember those days, relived them with a feeling of shear horror in his gut sometimes. “No matter how you look at it, that was not okay.”
“True, but we learned,” Natasha says, eyes still fixed on her screen. “Where's my coffee?”
“Peter?” Steve sighs and the boy jumps onto his feet.
“I'm on it, I'm on it.”
When Steve comes home that evening – close to ten because they ordered in pizza's to the office for dinner- Tony is there and he's not drunk, nor does Steve think he's hiding. “Did you know.” Tony starts, pointing a finger at Steve's face, “that you use a Blackberry?”
“You're asking me if I know that I use a Blackberry,” Steve says flatly. “Yes, Tony, I do know that. It's my work phone. What is the problem?”
“Don't make it sound like you're talking to a kid, you asshole. You can't use a fucking Blackberry when your best friend is Tony Stark, shit.” And the funny thing is that the -apparently- billionaire actually looks horrendously offended.
“I like how you just make up titles for yourself within my life,” Steve says. “Best friend, are you?”
“You need a Starkphone and you need it now.”
Steve shrugs off his coat and undoes his scarf before undoing his shoes. “If it wasn't for work I wouldn't even have a Blackberry so no.”
Tony seems energetic when he's not drunk or half asleep, Steve notes. He's bouncing around Steve's apartment making accusations about how all his electronics are not Starktech and that that is a real problem considering everything other than Starktech is shit.
“Wow, you need to calm down because I'm not replacing anything that isn't broken.”
“I will break your shit,”Tony threatens as he walks towards the microwave.
“I'll break you,” Steve counters and grabs Tony's outstretched hands.
“This is why I shouldn't have friends, goddamnit,” Tony snaps and jerks back. “Why can't you let me do what I want to do-” and attached to it is a string of curses and more accusations and Steve thinks a sober Tony is even more crass and an asshole than a drunk Tony.
“Did you eat yet?” Steve asks when Tony is done with his vicious rant and finally ends up with his face buried in a pillow on the couch.
“Ate all your leftovers,” Tony mumbles into the pillow. “And I'm not even sorry any more.”
Steve notes that there's fresh coffee and he wonders how long Tony had been here already. The TV is on CNN and Tony gives his personal commentary on every news item, Steve disagrees to most of it and Tony huffs and snaps at him for about an hour until he finally says what Steve then realises he's probably been here for from the start.
“We're going back to California tomorrow,” he says. “Preparations for the winter months. The headquarters is there and my best workshop is there and there's work to be done.”
Steve stupidly thinks no, I need more time to turn you gay for me as Tony continues about things Steve already knew; that he spent the summer months in New York mainly for appearances and upholding his east coast contacts face to face.
Tony asks him if he's ever been out west and Steve has to tell him about the road trip he was convinced to go on with Clint and Darcy in college over one winter break, all the way to Las Vegas where he had mostly just stopped Darcy from becoming a stripper and Clint from going back to the circus.
Tony laughed, made him promise to introduce him to his friends one day – please no.
“Pepper says she doesn't know what she's going to do when we get back there,” Tony sighs. “You may not have noticed but you took on like...half her job by just letting me in here. I think she's still crying herself to sleep because you're gay, by the way.”
Steve doesn't know what to say to that so he doesn't say anything, let's Tony do the talking which turns out to be not such a bad idea, because Tony has questions.
“Before I go you have to give me those details though,” he says. “About your sex life and all that. I'm curious. I don't know many gay guys and the ones I do know are nothing like you.”
“Fine, Tony, what do you want to know?”
“Have you ever had sex with a woman?”
Steve was prepared, sure, but that doesn't mean he won't still be embarrassed. “Nope.”
Tony gives him an exasperated look. “Never?”
“Not even in high school while you were still confused about your sexuality?”
“In high school no one was even looking at me, let alone wanting to have sex with me, so no. Never. Kissed a few girls in college though, but I never tried for more than that.”
“Okay, so how did you know for sure that you're gay? Walk me through this huge part of your life where you discover that you find guys hot-”
“Are you having some sort of sexuality crisis, Tony?” Please, yes.
“No, no, I'm still hot for boobs. I'm just interested.”
“You know you can be...hot for boobs and like guys too, right?”
“I know that,” Tony says a tad too fast and Steve can't help himself, he smiles.
“I'll take you on a trip on memory lane then,” Steve finally says and sits back. He tells Tony about the crush he had on Bucky all through high school, about Bucky finding out he was gay through a very embarrassing browser incident and how Bucky thought it was the funniest thing in the world. He told him about his confession and about Bucky's apologetic rejection – Steve really needs to stop falling for straight guys, damnit – and about how they stayed friends, were still friends to this day. He told Tony about how he has his growth spurt, and how all of a sudden he had game everywhere but didn't know what to do with it.
“Don't tell me,” Tony says. “You got hot and all of a sudden that Bucky guy wants you back?”
“This isn't a the gay version of a make over movie, Tony. He's still straight,” Steve sighs and then before he can stop himself adds, “They're always straight.”
“Oh wow, sounds like you have some issues. Clint isn't straight, why isn't he your fulltime boyfriend?”
“Clint? I'm not in love with Clint.”
“Right, you're all about love and whatnot. That's the gayest thing about you.”
Steve thinks right and here I though the gayest thing about me was all the buttsex but okay and he tries to find the cleanest way of saying that but is too late because Tony leans in and puts a hand on his thigh. “I have a secret no one knows about, not even Pepper,” he says, mischievous glint in his eyes and a smart smirk on his lips that makes Steve thinks please, you're gay, bisexual, please. “I kissed a guy once,” okay, that's fucking great- “Not such a great experience, if I'm honest. It was in college and he was so drunk I don't think he realised I was a dude.”
“Oh,” is Steve's very intelligent reply and Tony shrugs.
“I suppose drunken experiences don't count for much though.”
“You seem really...interested in this though,” Steve tries because Tony does seem interested but he's also sending rather mixed signals.
“I'm a genius, Steve, I need to know everything. For science.”
“You asking me about being gay --for science?”
“There should be some experimenting too.”
“I'm not going to be your gay experiment.” And as he says it, Steve thinks wait that's exactly what I want to be. But Tony is already laughing and that hand that was so comfortable on Steve's thigh comes up and clasps his shoulder.
“I really appreciate you letting me crash here, Rogers,” he then says in a rather serious tone. “Sucks I have to leave you behind. If Pepper was here she'd offer you a job, she knows the job openings and what not-”
“I'm not taking a job in California, Tony.”
“Of course you wouldn't,” Tony sighs, hand still in place. “Listen, about that science thing...”
“Since we concluded that that drunken gay kiss of mine in college doesn't count, and I am a real thorough scientist and genius of course, I should conduct that experiment again for myself. And since there's only one gay man here right now...”
He's looking at Steve sideways and Steve stares at him, until he finally turns his head. “You asking me to kiss you, Tony?”
“You need to support science, Steve, don't be a bigot.”
Steve is only a little bit scared when he goes in for that kiss because there's that slight moment of what if he doesn't like it but it's quickly overruled by I'm going to like it either way so at least I win for now, he's moving to California, he's moving away, do it, do it. And then their lips fit together perfectly, Steve feels Tony's beard on his skin and automatically curls his toes. He makes it last, moves against soft lips, brings a hand to Tony's face and keeps him in place. Tony isn't fighting, isn't even hesitating anymore and his mouth opens eagerly when Steve nudges. Steve's mind goes blank and there's only Tony on his lips and in his mouth, Tony's hands on his arms, squeezing his biceps. Steve wants to push him down, to crawl all over him, to make this last for as long as possible, but all too soon there's air in his lungs again and Tony is gaping at him, face flushed and Steve didn't think Tony could blush. “Not bad,” Tony says after scraping his throat. “Not bad at all.”
“Thanks,” Steve croaks and slides a hand through his hair. He has the irrational urge to text Clint and the girls about this and ask them what to do next.
“I thought...I thought I'd burst out laughing or be freaked out or something,”Tony continues and Steve starts digging a hole mentally, a hole he'll bury himself in when Tony leaves- “But that wasn't funny. Or scary.”
“I don't know what to say,” Steve admits. “It was nice.”
“I didn't think...” and Tony still looks a bit shocked and it bothers Steve a bit, “...didn't think I'd be okay with...” and he motions at Steve's firm arm muscles. “I mean I have a healthy enough appreciation for your wonderful body but it's so...manly and has all these man curves -”
“That's because I'm a man, yeah.”
“I know that...it's just...still great.”
Steve thinks that maybe in any other situation he'd have taken a step back, he'd have asked for a clear explanation of what was happening and what was going to happen in the future because one does not simply go from straight as an arrow to making out with Steve on his living room couch. But in this situation, in the situation that Tony is moving to California, well in this situation Steve decides he's going to just enjoy Tony's beard scraping against his face.
“You should have banged him, man. I knew you'd chicken out. What if you never see him again? Rich people are unpredictable, Steve. He could move to fucking Antarctica next and you'll never see him again, you will never have banged him. You know what? Serves you right for being a dick and denying us our fake birthdays.”
It's five past nine in the morning and this is already a thing. “Why don't you understand that you can't just leap into gay sex with a guy who's completely baffled by biceps and abs and broad shoulders?”
“Seems to me he acclimatised pretty fast,” Natasha says. “He's a forty year old man who's having his first gay experience with a guy who's ten years younger.”
“When you say it like that, it kind of sounds like a midlife crisis,” Darcy snorts. Steve is baffled for a second and then asks. “Tony is forty?”
“Thirty six,” Natasha shrugs. “But Darcy is right. Either he's very flexible and morally loose or he's having a midlife crisis.”
“Morally loose, though?”
“A whore,” Natasha clarifies and Steve groans into his elbow before dropping his whole torso down to his desk. They keep talking about him like he's not even there, and he thinks it's better than him having to actually acknowledge anything they say. He's just about ready to start some actual work, somewhat optimistic that maybe if he tried hard enough he's be distracted for a while - and then his desk phone rings. He lifts his head and frowns at it, because it's nine in the morning and who the hell would call him at nine in the morning so early in the month?
“SHIELD publishing, this is Steve,” he answers.
“Oh shit, and here I thought I was going to have to be put on hold five times before they'd put me through.”
Steve freezes in his seat and he knows they notice because all their heads turn to him. “Tony,” he finally breathes. “Why are you calling me on my office phone?”
“Because you never thought of giving me your shitty Blackberry number.”
Clint leans over, an reaches out for the speaker button but Steve grabs his wrist, maybe just a little too hard. “You never asked.”
“I'm going to need it when I'm in California, Rogers. You're not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Listen, I can't really talk right now-”
“Come on, I'm going to be gone by tonight-”
“So you should meet me outside of my office before noon. If you have time.”
Darcy yelps and Steve closes his eyes and presses his fingers into his eye sockets because god what is he doing.
“I'll make time.”
“Okay, don't be late.”
Steve hangs up and ignores the three wolves hovering around him.
“No, Tony, don't- Didn't you say you'd never touch a Blackberry? Stop, no-”
“Tony Stark speaking.” And Steve's life was over. They had been calling him non-stop from the second he had left the office to meet Tony upfront and Tony had noticed the incessant vibration of Steve's coat pocket when they sat next to each other in the back of Tony's car, driving them back to the office. They had gotten coffee, they had talked and bantered like always. It was the first time outside of the confines of Steve's apartment and it was perfect. They hadn't talked about the night before yet, or about the fact that Tony would leave for the other side of the country that night.
“Yeah, he's here,” Tony says and holds Steve's swatting hand in his own. “You're Clint, right? I met you at Steve's. Hey, how is Steve in bed-”
Steve gapes, completely shocked and appalled and ready to jump out of the car.
“Wow, that is very good to know,” Tony nods with a grin. “Hey, I'll catch you later. Will bring your Steve up, okay.”
He hangs up, and hands Steve the phone. Steve doesn't take it. Instead he crosses his arm and decides Tony doesn't exist.
“He said you don't have a gag reflex.”
Tony doesn't exist. He doesn't. And Steve doesn't imagine giving Tony a blowjob nor was he half hard from the thought. No, Tony doesn't exist.
“Are you ignoring me, Rogers?”
Tony's hand isn't on his and it doesn't feel like Steve's eyes are attracted to Tony's face like magnets to fridge doors.
“Are you offended that I took your phone or that I asked about how your sex is? Because you sure as hell weren't going to talk about it and this Clint guy was more than happy to do it for you. Steve. Steve. Steve G. Rogers. What does the G. in your name stand for anyway?”
“How do you know-” and Steve realises he's been tricked because Tony is grinning that asshole grin.
“Went through your mail like a million times. Your mail is super boring, by the way.”
“I will press charges.”
“So about the gag reflex-”
“Stop the car.”
“Okay, okay, calm down. No more sex jokes then? That's fine. Listen, I'm really leaving tonight and I don't know when I'll be back so you have to keep that shitty Blackberry real close to you at all times. Things get hectic when I work and I may lose track of time and whatever but I'm pretty sure I'll remember my first gay experience.”
“That...sounds nice, I suppose,” Steve says hesitantly and accepts his cellphone back. “And it's Grant. My middle name.”
Tony snorts. “Okay, Grant-”
“Why not, Grant? Embarrassed about your middle name, Grant? It's a proper name, isn't it?”
“Are we really going to do this, Edward,” Steve sighs and takes too much pleasure from the way Tony's mouth snaps shut. “Oh yeah. My friends googled you.”
And he regrets saying that only because it makes Tony only more persistent on meeting them and Steve really does not want that, not now and maybe not ever but his mind was a bit clouded still by the things Tony had said before. Things that could mean so little, but at the same time could mean so much, and he caved.
“Up until this point,” Darcy says as she shakes Tony's hand, “I thought Steve was a filthy liar.”
And Steve watches – only slightly surprised before he remembers Tony is a fan – as Tony gushes at their posters and special editions and stalled out super hero props scattered around the office.
“This place does a good job of hiding the fact that it's a nerdshack by having such attractive employees. You win, though,” he adds when they're riding the elevator back down. “You win the award for hottest nerd. By a long shot.”
“Okay, I have to ask,” Steve sighs. “Before last night you said you were completely straight and after we kissed you haven't stopped hitting on me. What exactly is going on here?”
Tony looks a bit taken aback and Steve thinks that maybe he had been too straight forward. Tony gathers himself quick enough though and shrugs.
“I do what I like.”
When Tony is on his private jet that night, Pepper sitting across from him with her eyes closed and earphones plugged in, he thinks about Steve's face. Steve has two birthmarks right next to each other on his left cheek, and he has two on his throat, right next to his Adam's apple. Steve has light freckles on his nose, much lighter than Pepper's, and Tony wonders if they come out in the sun. He knows Steve has freckles on his shoulders as well, knows that from staring too long a few too many times. Steve has blue eyes, but not a kind of blue Tony has ever seen in anyone else. Steve's irises are dotted with dark blues, fading into his pupils that have a shade of blue that reminds Tony of starry nights. Tony had always thought of blue eyes as cold, calculating, but Steve's eyes are the warmest he's ever seen. Steve's eyes crinkle when he smiles, they almost close completely when he laughs and it's handsome but it's also cute and cute is something Tony has never really spoken of in a way that wasn't sarcastic. But then when Steve works at home, mostly on the weekends, he's serious and his profile is so sharp and manly that it aches, because it's not fair how attractive this kid is on so many different levels. Steve's lips, and Tony has tasted them now and they taste great, are pink, pinker than any natural lips he's ever seen. And then there's that frown that he wears a lot. That frown that makes his golden eyebrows furrow, because Steve isn't just blond, is he? He's fucking golden and goddamn it Tony needs to stop thinking about that face.
He shifts in his seat and Pepper immediately cocks an eye open and Tony thinks okay, that is scary.
She pulls on the cord of her earplugs and sighs. “What's wrong?” she asks.
Tony wants to scoff, wants to ask what she's talking about, wants to ask where the strippers are but what comes out of his mouth is: “He sings in the shower.”
Pepper looks at him, confused only for a second before it dawns. “Sexy Steve?”
“Did you know that for like two months he basically had no idea that I was ogling the shit out of him? He's walking around his apartment in his underwear – tight boxers, usually – and he has no idea of the boners he's giving me.”
“You were the one who waited for so long. You could have had a nice few weeks together,” she shrugs and adjusts her bangs. “But at least you got in a bicep-grope, that's already enough to make me jealous of you.”
“It's stupid, right? I mean he's a comic book editor, for god's sake. He's basically still a big kid who's never gotten over his little super hero obsession.”
“He edits comics that get read by millions of people, Tony. I'd hardly say that's child's play.”
“He works a lot. Literally every day. He's out of the door by eight on weekdays and usually isn't back until after nine and on weekends he's working at home, always reading and drawing.”
“You're one to talk. You may not have set hours for work, but you spend more than a hundred hours a week in your workshop during winter. We've counted.”
“He's also judges people, you know? He's such a saint. Doesn't do one night stands even though he turns heads where ever he goes. He only has that Clint who he occasionally fucks apparently but I've only seen him there once and I don't even think they had sex then. He's so serious about those things.”
“That's actually pretty normal. He's young and has needs, but he also wants a solid relationship, likes connecting with people. And he's pretty shy, I've noticed. He's a great guy, Tony.”
“I know, annoying, right?”
She smiles at him, that big goofy smile and Tony can't fight smiling back. “We'll visit,” she says. “There's a benefit in New York around Thanksgiving and I need to schedule in a few meetings there anyway.”
“Have you ever noticed his accent? It slips out when he's still sleepy and when he talks to some people on the phone. He has the nerve to tell me I sound posh when he talks like he came straight out of some Brooklyn slum. That and he wants to correct my grammar, like I don't know I'm saying it wrong. I'm Tony Stark, I'll say shit wrong if I want, I'm a genius.”
“He's an editor, his job is to correct people,” Pepper drawls and rolls her eyes at him.
“He just likes arguing with me.”
“I won't lie, that's a bit disturbing. No offence, Tony, but arguing with you is like punching myself in the face and I'm pretty sure most people would agree.”
“Non taken, but Steve, Sexy Steve, he just keeps on going, keeps arguing until we don't even know what we're arguing about any more. It's really hot.”
“Typical self destructive view, can't say I'm surprised,” Pepper smiles and Tony thinks she's been doing that a lot lately. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“All...emotional. More than usual.” She shifts in her chair, tries to look casual and she fails. Tony is about to jab her when she gives. “We broke up,” she says with an eyeroll. “The lawyer and I broke up.”
“Don't get me wrong, because I was convinced he was all wrong for you from the beginning, but you don't seem heartbroken about this at all.”
“He was nice in a very boring and lawyery sort of way,” she shrugs. “But then I started thinking, you know? Do I want to have this nice guy? I want a nice guy, I really do, but this nice guy is white picket fence nice. He thought I worked too much, offered to get me job interviews-”
“I will kill him-”
“Either way, he's not the person I want to end up with. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, since you met Sexy Steve, actually.”
“Are you actually in love with Steve now? Because we are going to have to battle it out since I don't think he'd go for the whole threesome thing. I wouldn't mind but I don't think he's even kind of bisexual-”
“I'm not going to be the filling to your gay sandwich, Tony.”
“You hate fun.”
When he finally gets home, things go fast. JARVIS' crystal clear voice has the same effect as smelling a mother's homemade pie and he buries himself in his workshop like there's no tomorrow and it's the only place he wants to be for the time being. Steve's face is still there, on his mind, but it's more of an afterthought that makes him grin whenever it resurfaces. Tony's priorities however, come crashing down when JARVIS tells him there's a call from a number in New York. “It seems to be coming from SHIELD Publishing, sir.”
“Steve!” Tony answers enthusiastically and drops his screw driver onto his desk. “What's going on?”
“Nothing much, Tony. How are you?” Steve's voice comes flooding into his workshop, all raspy and beautiful and Tony bites his lip.
“Great, never better. Listen, I know I said I'd call right after I arrived but I got caught up in work way too much for a change and I was actually just now going to call you-”
“That's fine, don't worry about it. Just wanted to make sure you were alive. How is Pepper doing? She actually did call me when you arrived.”
“She did? Wow I really need to have a chat with her about her issues. She can not keep hitting on a gay guy-”
“Hey, don't tell her anything. I like talking to her and besides, if it wasn't for her I wouldn't know what you're up to.”
Tony is about to say something about a Pepper sandwich when he hears a voice in the background. “Steve, is that the printing office? Parker is fucking up again, isn't he? Don't clean up his mess! Let the nerd feel the pain of publishing. Let's go for a smoke.”
“Sorry, that's Darcy,” Steve chuckles lightly. “She goes ruthless at the end of cycle.”
“You smoke?” Tony asks because he's never seen Steve smoke and that is something he desperately wants to see for some reason. Perfectly Sexy Steve with a cigarette? Tony's going to have a good time tonight.
“Sometimes,” Steve answers quickly. “Hey, I'm happy you're doing well, but I have to go now. Let me know you're still breathing now and then and try to make Pepper's job less terrible, okay?”
“Hey, you shouldn't call me if you're going to hang up after five seconds. Call me when you get off work.”
“Won't be done until after midnight. Maybe tomorrow, but probably next week. End of cycle and whatnot. Bye Tony.”
“Bye bye, Steve,” Tony sighs over the dial tone.
And it actually takes Steve a whole week to call again and this time Tony is waiting which turns out to be a horrible, horrible thing, waiting. Pepper says he's acting like a high school girl and that it's not a bad look for him, but Tony thinks it's a horrible, horrible look because he can't control this look, he can't control Steve who's on the other side of the fucking country.
Steve calls him from his Blackberry this time and his voice comes in just a little less clear.
“Why won't you just tell me what you're wearing, Steve? Why can't you just do this for me? I've been stuck in this lab for two weeks. Give a man something.”
“I'm not doing this. You should be ashamed for asking, really.”
They've been talking for little over an hour now and Tony has started to hear the difference in Steve's serious voice, amused voice, nervous voice and all sorts of other recognisable tones which make Tony smile for no real reason. Steve is amused right now.
“You're kidding, right? I suggested you send me dirty texts and you refused, I suggested phone sex and you refused, now all I want is a mental image and you're not even going to give me that? I'm going to forget your face soon, Steve. Won't even recognise you when I come back to New York.”
“You're exhausting, Tony.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“How is that a – oh, of course. I really should just assume everything you say is wildly inappropriate by now. I don't know why I keep holding onto this respectable image of you.”
“Hey now, I am a very respectable man, okay. I am Tony Stark.”
Steve laughs, a beautiful ringing laugh, and then sighs. “Hey, one of my writers is having a signing in LA next week.”
Tony drops the wrench he's been fooling around with to the floor. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah, for three days.”
“And why are you telling me this now? This is stuff you open a conversation with, Steve.”
“I honestly didn't think it was that important. It's not like I'm going to have a lot of free time or anything. None, actually.”
“But you're staying overnight, right?” Tony asks, suddenly feeling the need to make it very clear that Steve is going to have no choice but meeting up with Tony.
“Yeah, Peter and I will be there Friday morning, setting things up for the signing at one, and it's probably going to drag out until around eight. Dealing with the aftermath is going to take at least until after midnight and the next day is the same. We'll be leaving on Monday morning.”
“I can squeeze myself in there,” Tony decides. “You want to see me, right?”
“Of course,” Steve answers without missing a beat. “But don't get mad when I don't have a lot of time to spend.”
It's worth it. It is so worth it.
Steve, Sexy Steve, is sexier than ever in his sharp black suit that slims down his shoulders and makes him look like he stepped right out of an Armani catalogue and makes Tony wipe the drool off his chin. Pepper is no better.
He follows her up to the front of the line – holy shit this is a long line – and Steve beams up at them for a second before that beautiful grin appears. “Guys, I didn't expect to see you this early already. I'm really sorry, but I can't leave right now.”
“That's fine,” Pepper assures and gives him a quick hug. “We just stopped by to say a quick hello and wish you luck here.”
“That's sweet,” Steve smiles and Tony scrapes his throat because really, why doesn't he get a hug?
Steve smiles at him, cheeks redder than they were a second ago and then pulls him against his chest. Tony wants to moan, because Steve's arms are strong and they're squeezing him so perfectly, so tightly that, yeah, it makes his cock twitch. Tony wraps his arms around Steve's waist and then before he can stop himself pulls back slightly and presses a kiss onto his mouth.
Steve gets that goofy smile on his and everything is good, really, really great. Steve lets him go though, keeping a hand on his back as a sluggish looking kid in jeans and a sport's coat comes up to them looking panicked.
“Steve, it's getting really busy!” he basically squeals and Steve gives the boy a reassuring smile.
“That's a good thing, Peter. Come here. Remember what I told you about networking? Since I know it's hard, I'm going to give you a head start.” He lets Tony go and instead puts an arm over the nervous looking kid's shoulder. “Peter, these are Mister Stark and Miss Potts. They're not from the publishing business, but they're important enough that it doesn't matter,” he says in a voice that sounds all business, a voice Tony hadn't heard before, a voice that causes more twitching.
Steve directs his attention to Tony and grins: “Peter is our intern, it's his first signing and he's freaking out,” a lot less formal than before.
“Well, Peter, Steve clearly has things covered so I just suggest you follow his rule,” Pepper smiles at the younger boy and takes his hand in hers before pulling a business card out of her purse.
Tony has other motives. “So you work with Steve? Any dirt? I need to know-”
“And that's enough introductions for now. Go check if the star is doing okay,” Steve says, turning Peter around and nudging him towards the back of the store. “You are unbelievable,” he sighs when he turns around, but he's still smiling and Tony can't keep his hands to himself. He grabs Steve's elbow and tells him that he'll be waiting for him after the signing. Steve weakly protests that it's too late and that he doesn't want Tony to go through that but Tony assures him he'll be there.
And when he does come that evening, oh he does not regret it. Steve looks dead tired, sure, but he's still smiling and he's still jabbing and disagreeing with everything Tony says while Tony drives them to his house. Steve makes a few phone calls on the way there, one to Peter and another to what must be his boss because he calls him 'sir' and rolls his eyes at least three times while he's talking to him. When he ends his third call and catches Tony's disapproving look he just smiles and Tony kind of forgets he's driving.
“You can't get mad, remember? I'm here for work.”
Tony just grunts a non-committal response when they're already pulling up in front of Tony's mansion.
“I don't know why I'm surprised,” Steve says as he looks up at the huge construction. “This place is amazing.”
“You haven't seen anything yet. Let's go.”
When they're inside, Steve aw's and oh's at a lot of things but Tony doesn't miss the glazed over expression of exhaustion.
“How about a drink?” he suggest and Steve nods and accepts the glass without asking what it is. Tony asks him about the signing and Steve perks up a little bit, because apparently it went really well and Peter is doing great and the writer was surprised by how many people were there and a lot of things that were apparently great and exhausting and made Steve smile and when Steve smiles, Tony smiles and he can't stop. He finds himself with Steve slumped up against him on the couch, suit jacket and tie discarded at the bar. He's just thinking he doesn't mind falling asleep like that, when Steve sits up, puts the empty glass he's been holding on the table and gives Tony a shy smile before kissing him. At first he wants to say he doesn't have to do this if he's tired, he can go to sleep if he wants to, but then there's Steve's tongue and it's warm and slow and tickling the roof of his mouth and Tony is half hard in the first thirty seconds of making out. Steve's hands are in a safe place up until then, and Tony thinks he must be waiting for him to take it further and so he does. He puts a hand behind Steve's neck and pulls him in closer and that's when Steve's big hands come up and rest on his hips, slide over his back and Tony's breath hitches when Steve squeezes his sides and moves his kisses from Tony's mouth to his jaw and his neck before he pulls his lips away completely.
Tony is panting and painfully hard now and going off on Steve's lingering gaze at his crotch, he's noticed and...he hesitates.
“Do you...want more or is this enough?” Steve asks and it takes a while for those words to register and when they do, he still doesn't exactly know what it means.
“Do..you?” he stammers.
“You said you've never been with a guy before so I'd completely understand if you don't want to go any further.”
Oh. Oh. Steve is still careful with him because he thinks all the gay is going to cause him to freak out. Oh, Steve.
“I want everything you have,” Tony finally breathes. “Everything you want to give me.”
Something that looks like relief floods over Steve's complexion. He starts to unbutton his own shirt, and pulls his undershirt off with it before he slides off the couch and settles between Tony's knees.
“Oh fuck,” Tony's voice quivers. Steve's muscles flex and relax as he shifts and Tony just thinks wow. Wow, wow,wow.
The rumour is true. Steve doesn't have a gag reflex. It's kind of sour that he had to find out through Clint, but that didn't stop him from enjoying every second, every inch of Steve's throat on him. Steve swallows, he swallows and Tony is jerking off to the memory until he sees Steve again, which isn't until right before New Year's. They don't go to New York around Thanksgiving because of asshole broker’s meetings and a million other things that need to be taken care of. They call each other almost every day now and Pepper says it's the cutest long distance relationship she's ever seen. Tony hears the word relationship and stops listening.
It's New Year's Eve though and Tony finds Steve's apartment door locked for a change and he finds himself staring at the apartment number, 5A. “Don't tell him,” he hears Pepper say, “Surprise him, Tony.” And now he's standing in front of a locked door, thanks Pep.
He goes over his options. Usually if Steve's not at home, he's at work but Tony doesn't want to think of Steve actually working on New Year's Eve. The other option is that Steve is already at a party somewhere with his friends, but that doesn't make Tony feel any better.
He drives to Steve's office then, finds the front desk closed but both elevators going up are open and Tony thinks yeah, he can at least try to keep the surprise element alive. He knows he can call Steve, that he'll probably pick up and tell Tony exactly where he is, where to meet him, how to make this night awesome but Tony also wants to see Steve's face when he surprises him.
He rides the elevator up to the highest floor, remembers Steve saying: “They tried to move us once, but Clint had a panic attack. He doesn't like change,” and smiles to himself, the need to find Steve as soon as possible growing in his chest.
The elevator opens with a ding and there's a man standing at the tall wall of bookcases Tony remembers from the last time he was there, which was almost four months ago.
“Can I help you?” the man asks, not showing any sign of surprise to see someone wandering into his their office on New Year's Eve.
“I'm looking for Steve,” he says.
“Oh, yeah, he's in the conference room,” he answers coolly and Tony's heart does a thing, a thing that makes him nauseous and nervous and giddy and ugh.
“Thanks,” he says and stalks to the conference room where Steve and his team are usually stationed. The door isn't completely closed and he can hear voices, laughing, joking and reprimanding. He knocks once and it goes quiet.
“Who even knocks in this office?” he hears a woman say and then the door is yanked open and Tony is staring at a familiar chest.
“Uh, hi,” he says, taking a step back so he's able to see Steve's face. “Happy New Year?”
Steve's face goes from confusion to complete shock and then there are arms around Tony's waist and he's being lifted of the ground. He laughs, wants to cry really, and hugs the larger man back.
“Oh my god, scene from a movie,” he hears a woman say and then obviously Clint: “Gayest movie ever.”
It turns out that there's more work over the holidays than any other time. Apparently there are always Christmas specials, New Year's specials and Valentine specials which ruin these people's lives. Tony listens to them complain and sigh and groan all with their eyes on theirs screens, on papers, on pads or whatever they're using. There's a girl, Darcy, and she's Tony's favourite. She can't keep her mouth shut for over five seconds and doesn't even realise when no one answers her, clearly they're used to it. There's another girl, Natasha who has perfect lips and perfect eyebrows, who demands someone get coffee every ten minutes and takes over bits and pieces of Darcy's work when she goes for the coffee run. And then there's Clint who can't sit still. Clint goes from his chair, to the couch in the corner, sits on top of the desks, just stands sometimes as he works. And of course there's Steve, perfect Sexy Steve who has to proof read and approve everyone else's work, who corrects them and makes them change things here and there and that's something Tony did not know, that Steve is some sort of boss.
“I'm not,” Steve says, shooting Tony a blinding smile. He's been doing that a lot this evening while Tony chatters away with Darcy and Clint.
“He's team captain,” Darcy says. “He's the only one who hasn't come to work drunk yet and that includes Fury. Coulson doesn't count,” she adds when Clint opens his mouth. He's sitting in an empty chair at the end of the conference table now, his socked feet on the table.
“It's nine o'clock,” Steve says and puts his red pen down. “As team captain I say we're done for the year.”
“Really?” Darcy asks. “I still have-”
“Nope, we're done. Go get drunk, Darcy,” Steve says as he gets up. Tony has the weird urge to jump on his back and ride him out of that office, but instead he follows him out properly after the others all set down their work, all with new energy for the new year. There's talk of parties to go to, champagne to drink and people to make out with and Steve looks at Tony questioningly.
“I don't have anything,” Tony says quickly. “I came for you.”
Steve grins at him and hurries him into the elevator after yelling a: “Happy New Year's, Phil!” they watch the elevator doors close as Clint runs for them and before he knows it, Steve has scooped up Tony's face and is ravishing – yes ravishing him.
Tony's been awake for a little while now. He decides not to move, mainly because of the newly acquired sex pains in his limbs and back. They ache, a wonderful ache, but the idea of having to move out of Steve's bed is dark and discomforting so he stays, eyes closed. He feels Steve move and feels the bed dip, it is what had woken him up in the first place and he's just about hoping the man will be back soon when he feels the sheets around his legs and hips rustle and is soon hit with cold air. Hands run up his thighs for a second and Tony thinks yes and no all at the same time because he's sore all over but his cock is already reacting.
Steve's light chuckle fills the room and Tony feels his hot breath stagger against his dick for only second before he's being engulfed. He groans and the words you fucking asshole slip out because obviously Steve had known he was awake the whole time. And yet, this was the best wake up call he could ever wish for so he spreads his legs and blinks his eyes open to watch Steve, red lipped and uncombed, taking care of Tony's morning wood like the champion and perfect person he is.
“Oh fuck,” he groans when Steve opens his mouth and lets Tony slide up and into his throat. “Fuck, fuck, Steve.”
Steve's eyes dart upwards and they look huge from that angle and Tony is done, dead, it's over. He grabs the sheets under him as he bucks upwards and cums into Steve's mouth. Steve makes a surprised noise, and his fingers dig into Tony's thighs lightly as he sucks him completely dry before letting him slip out of his mouth and tugging Tony back into the sheets. “Happy New Year,” Steve says with a smile and Tony opens his mouth to say something and ends up emitting a string of strangled noises instead.
“Right, coffee is ready. I'll be right back.”
And at that, Tony's eyes roll back into his head and he starts wondering if he isn't still asleep, if this isn't a cruel joke his mind playing on him and that he's actually still in California where it's always sunny but always feels cold as supposed to this dark winter morning in New York where Tony feels nothing but warmth and -
“You okay sitting up?” Steve asks and puts a steaming cup on the dresser next to Tony's head.
Tony eases himself up and grabs the mug with both hands. “You're my favourite person right now,” he mumbles before taking a sip of his black nectar.
Steve smiles and walks around the bed. “I bet you tell that to everyone who gives you blowjobs and coffee, right?” He settles in on top of the sheets with his own mug, sweats barely staying on his hips.
“You're kidding, right? That holy combination is your creation. Make my coffee Irish and I'd say I'm in heaven.” Tony stretches his back for a second, feels it burn and settles against the headboard.
“Is it really bad?” Steve asks and he's actually looking worried. “It hurts, doesn't it? Tell you what, you drink your coffee and I'll give you a massage afterwards.”
“Is this really my life now? This feels like the last day I'm going to be alive or something. Like I'm not going to live to look back on this-”
“Have a little faith,” Steve says and puts his arm around Tony's shoulder pulling him close. “I don't know how long you'll be staying, but it's going to be great,” he mumbles into his hair. Those words sink in like led. Because yeah, how long is Tony going to stay? January was a hellish month for business as Pepper put it, and he couldn't afford being away for too long-
“You'll stay for today, right?” Steve asks and his voice wavers, like he's not sure that's not too much too ask now.
“Of course,” Tony says. “You promised me a massage, Rogers. I'm not passing that up.”
And it turns out that Steve has fucking magical hands and the kinky bastard actually has oils, and they smell like vanilla. Steve rubs his back down with slow movements as Tony lies on his stomach on Steve's bed.
“Oh fuck, Steve,” Tony groans and his eyes roll back into his head because fuck. “How the fuck am I going to leave you here,” he mutters nonsensically, as Steve ends up pressing away every knot in Tony's shoulders and back.
They shower and Steve actually makes breakfast and they talk and then something happens that turns into the most elaborate demonstration of what amazing gay sex should be like, all credits going to Steven Grant Rogers. Steve laughs and blushes when Tony knights him with a rolled up poster and declares him prince of perfect blowjobs. It appears that Steve frowns upon crude jokes outside of the bedroom but takes them as challenges within those four walls. Tony thinks this needs to be his life and the thought comes back again and again and every time Tony has to push it away because he can already feel it. He can already feel the disappointment of having to leave. Pepper could be knocking on that door the next morning for all he knows-
“I'm not waiting this long again to see you,” Steve murmurs against his shoulder.
“Is that a promise?” Tony asks. He turns on his side and puts a hand in Steve's neck. Steve smiles and nods.“You're going to have to meet me halfway a little bit, Tony. I'll fly over whenever I have time but you know how work is.”
“I'm going to have to move my whole headquarters here, aren't I?”