Chapter Text
Steve was on his way to talk to Tony when he got the call. Clint, Natasha and him are to roll out in twenty minutes. He’s been told it’s gonna be a long one.
He gets to the workshop, punches in his code and walks through the door. Tony is sitting at one of his worktables, muttering to himself and attempting to push Dum-E away as the robot unsuccessfully tries to hand him a smoothie. Steve sighs. The robot trying to feed Tony usually means that he hasn’t eaten in days. He can only hope that Tony got some sleep since they… Well. Better not to start thinking about that right now. He needs to stay on top of his game.
“JARVIS, run that again but increase the log tenfold. No, wait, that wouldn’t…. We need to find a way to stabilize it somehow. I can’t see it. Get rid of this” - a sharp slicing motion of his right hand - “and move this here” - Tony’s slender fingers are mesmerizing, and Steve stops for a moment so that he can take it all in.
His body is wracked by a near-invisible shudder as he remembers the feel of these fingers inside him, stroking him just right, making his back arch… Steve shakes his head, refocuses. It’s really not the time.
“Tony, do you have a minute?”
The muttering doesn’t stop, although Dum-E swivels around and chirps excitedly when he sees Steve. He drops the smoothie on the ground, causing JARVIS to exclaim “Dum-E, pick that up at once!” and rolls towards him, enthusiastically extending a claw to greet him.
“Hey Dum-E,” Steve pets the robot, who trails after him as he walks closer to Tony.
“Tony.”
Still no response. Steve sighs. “JARVIS? Can you get his attention please? I really need to talk to him for a minute.”
“Of course, Captain Rogers.”
The holograms disappear, and Tony’s hands freeze midair.
“JARVIS! What the hell? I was on a roll here.”
“I apologize Sir, but Captain Rogers is here and requesting your attention.”
Tony swivels around and a range of emotions flash across his face, too quick for Steve to get a read on him. He seems to settle on wariness, leaning back slightly as he takes Steve in.
“Hey.” He clears his throat. “How long have you been there?”
“Not too long.” They both know that that means that Steve has tried and failed to get Tony’s attention several times already. Tony smiles ruefully, not apologetically though, never that, and spreads his arms, “Well? What can I do for you today? I’m pretty busy so make it snappy.”
Tony’s eyes shift slightly away as he says this. Steve can recognize avoidance when he sees it, especially coming from the engineer, and he sighs internally. This is why he’s wanted them to sit down and talk about what happened. God only know what’s running through Tony’s mind right now. But the past few days have been a whirlwind of intelligence meetings as they tried to map out where to go next, culminating with his latest go order. He just hasn’t had the time to track Tony down and corner him into a conversation.
“I’m about to head out on a mission with Clint and Natasha. We’re probably going to be gone a while.”
“Okay...” Tony looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow, like he can’t quite believe that Steve would just decide to update him on his life for no other reason than his constant hope that Tony will one day reciprocate.
“Look, when I get back, I think we should talk about-”
“I’m going to stop you right there Rogers, because you look like you’re about to give yourself an aneurysm.”
Rogers. Steve hates the way his surname sounds in Tony’s mouth, thrown at him to deflect his attention.
"Tony, listen-"
But he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because he gets interrupted by his comm pinging and Coulson's voice in his ear. “Captain, transport is ready, they're waiting.”
Tony crosses his arms, leaning back against the table fully now. His eyes have taken on a challenging glint, as if he’s looking for a fight. He tilts his chin up, looking for all the world like he’s readying himself for a blow.
Steve almost reaches out to him but thinks better of it, figures it wouldn't be welcome. Tony tracks his movements, mouth set in a thin line.
"I have to go but… We'll talk when I get back okay? Please? At least promise me you'll hear me out, then."
Tony’s face shutters. "Fine." A terse response. A clear dismissal.
Steve feels like he's going to choke on all the things he should be saying but can't. He has rarely been so weary of the Captain American mantle. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone okay?”
Even as he’s talking, Steve knows it was the wrong thing to say. Tony sneers, the aggression that’s rolling off of him in waves is so thick it’s tangible, “I took care of myself just fine before you came out of the fucking ocean Cap, so I think I’m good here. But thanks for the concern, warms me up right down to my toes.” The wink is violent, insulting almost.
Steve puts his hands up, “Okay Tony. Okay. Just. Forget I said anything. I’ll just, go. I’ll see you, yeah?”
Tony nods, a sharp movement, and his mouth twists in a motion that could be interpreted as regretful. But Steve isn’t going to go down that rabbit hole. He’ll hear what Tony thinks, straight from Tony himself, when he gets back. He’s tired of having to make assumptions.
So he straightens up with and turns around without further ado, there’s nothing left to say or do here. As he leaves the workshop, feeling Tony's eyes on his back the whole way out, he gets a sense of foreboding about the coming weeks. He shakes his head to get rid of the feeling. He just hopes he can get to come home to Tony at the end.
---
Tony sees Steve shake his head as he’s leaving and turns back to his worktable as the door closes behind him. He lays his hands flat on the table, palms down on the even, smooth surface and takes a deep breath. Dum-E is cooing behind him and he lowers his head, closes his eyes.
He doesn’t know what Steve wants from him, but he’s pretty sure that the upcoming, now pencilled in thanks to Steve’s ridiculous sense of propriety, conversation is gonna crush his soul and dreams. He scoffs at himself. One night with Steve and suddenly he’s imagining a future for himself with Cap as a permanent fixture. And talking like a fucking aspiring poet. Seriously. Successfully - and repeatedly - bringing a man to completion does not a relationship make. Listen to him, forty-three and catching feelings. He can almost hear Howard lamenting his inability to act like a man’s man.
He should know by now that he doesn’t get nice things. And Steve is the nicest of all things. What could he possibly want from Tony. He may not be the Merchant of Death anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly on the side of the angels. He makes a point of never lying to himself so he’s gotta be honest about this: all he could do for Steve is find a way to snuff out that kernel of pure good that’s somehow survived seventy fucking years frozen in the Arctic. Tony refuses to be responsible for the disappearance of that enduring faith in humanity, beaten down by yet another disappointment.
“JARVIS bring it back up. What did we run last?”
“The last calculations resulted in an unbalanced equation, unfortunately.”
“Alright, run it again, but adjust for the addition of vibranium and see if that makes it less volatile.” Tony scrubs his face, feeling the lack of sleep catch up to him as he tries to make sense of the numbers he’s seeing.
“Sir, if I may, I do not believe that Captain Rogers meant to make light of what you shared.”
“J I love you but you and I both know that I’m much better at coding your beautiful insides than at navigating human relationships. Even if he wasn’t going to give me the talk, it would only be a matter of time before I found a way to mess it all up.”
“I must respectfully disagree with Sir. My data on your relationships with Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts suggest that you are in fact capable of sustaining continued interactions with other members of your species.”
“They’re the exceptions J.”
“Captain Rogers could be another, I believe.”
“I guess we’ll have to see about that.”
JARVIS doesn’t add anything, but his silence speaks volumes. Dum-E gently nudges Tony’s hip, as if to agree with the AI about the emotional resilience of his master. Tony smiles ruefully. At least if all else fails, he’ll always have his bots. There’s no point in wallowing while Steve is gallivanting halfway across the world anyways. Okay fine, doing super secret spy stuff probably isn’t what one could call gallivanting. Whatever, Tony’s allowed to be bitter. He’s been left hanging, after all.