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“How much time do I have?” Steve calls out, looking in the mirror with a frown. He twists his torso to get a glance at his back. His pants look good, he thinks; now, the shirt.
“A minute less than when you asked me last, Stevie,” comes Bucky’s half-amused, half-exasperated answer.
Steve scowls at the door that he left ajar when he slipped into his room. He shrugs on the shirt and stifles a spark of defensive anger. He knows the constant questions must be annoying and Bucky has the patience of a saint to bear with them. Steve has just a little less than an hour until he and Tony need to be ready; that’s clearly more than enough to get dressed.
He lets out a self-depreciating huff. He’s worrying too much. “I’m sorry, I just–”
“–don’t wanna be late,” Bucky cuts him off, finishing the apology that Steve has, too, repeated more than a few times this evening. Then, after a small pause, he adds, “for your date.”
Steve groans. “It’s not a date!” He gets to the door and steps into their shared living room to have Bucky feel the full intensity of a glare Steve sends him. “For the millionth time, Bucky, it’s–!” This time he stops mid-sentence himself, because Bucky glances up at him from a book he’s reading – some sci-fi book Tony insisted was a classic – and instead of being cowed by Steve’s righteous indignation, he’s squinting at Steve with a wrinkled nose. “...What?”
“No,” Bucky says finally. It doesn’t sound like he’s agreeing with Steve on the date issue though. It sounds like appraisal – one that Steve fails. Bucky drops the book onto his knees and reaches between the pillows of the armchair he’s sitting in to fish out his phone.
“Who are you texting, Buck?” Steve asks warily, but his best friend only smirks. That’s never a good sign. “Who are you texting?!” Steve dashes to take the phone away, but the man holds him off with his unyielding metal arm and finishes the message with his right hand.
“An expert,” Bucky finally answers, dropping the phone back. There's a smug smirk on his face.
“Expert on what? ”
Bucky raises his eyebrows. “And what do you think?” he asks, gesturing at Steve, from head to toes and back.
“Oi! Contrary to popular belief, I can dress myself!” Steve protests. He has a whole closet full of clothes now – Tony made sure of that – and picking something that goes together well enough isn’t difficult. “I know how to match colors!”
“Oh, dear,” another voice says as the door to their apartment opens – without even a customary knock. “Fashion isn’t just about the colors, Steve. It’s about the style, too,” Natasha admonishes as she crosses the room in a few quick strides. “Thank you, James, for calling me up here,” she brushes her hand against Bucky’s shoulder as she passes the man and, without giving Steve a chance to say no, drags him back to his room. She sits him on the bed and dives right into his closet. Nat moves confidently, purposefully, as if she knows exactly what she’s looking for.
She got to their apartment suspiciously fast, too, he realises with a frown. Almost as if she was expecting the call.
“I take offense at your lack of faith in me,” he says sullenly.
He can’t keep his pout up when Bucky snickers from the living room and Nat looks over her shoulder at him with an amused – but honest – smile. Steve treasures all genuine happiness he can coax out of his friends, even at the cost of his own pride. They’ve had precious little of it in their lives.
Natasha hums quietly when she finds what she was browsing the closet for. She turns to Steve, pats his cheek fondly, and hands him an armful of clothes. “You’ll thank me later when your date appreciates your outfit.”
“It’s not a date!” Steve huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you two that?”
“He asked you to a gala, Stevie,” Bucky chimes in from another room.
“Yes, but–!”
“As his plus one.” Natasha raises her brow. “Explicitly as his plus one.”
“Yes, but! It’s–” He shuts his eyes and only then smiles bitterly, as if closing his eyes could keep Nat from looking right through him. “It’s not like that.”
He thinks back to Tony’s anxious face when he asked Steve to accompany him to a the event. Ty will be there, he said, and Steve had never heard Tony sound as vulnerable before. I haven’t seen him since the break-up and who knows how it will go…? Steve filled in the gap: they could regain the chemistry they’d had… or cause a scene that media sharks would love to blow out of proportion. Will you go to the gala with me? He looked hopeful and nervous as he glanced up from the device he’d been tinkering with, looking at Steve with his gorgeous, wide-open eyes.
Steve said yes. How could he not? Steve would never deny the man any support he could so easily provide. The break-up shook Tony hard, if him holing up in his workshop for even longer stretches of time was anything to go by. Media coverage didn’t help; news outlets couldn’t decide on one guilty party and as a result, both sides have been equally vilified. Steve himself is certain that it was Stone who hurt Tony – he couldn’t imagine Tony doing anything that would end in a break-up this intense. But even then, having people all over the world debate whether you were the one at fault, or slandering someone you maybe still had feelings for– that had to be rough.
Steve couldn’t add any more anguish to Tony’s already full plate. He took a single look at Tony’s unguarded, hopeful face, and said yes. Of course he said yes.
Even if going to the gala as Tony’s fake date is going to kill Steve inside. Slowly and torturously.
“Oh, Steve,” Nat breaks the tender silence. She puts both her hands on Steve’s cheeks to make him look up at her. Her face is sympathetic but calculating, a mix that would make him wary around anyone else, but Steve trusts Nat, even though she has a way of always knowing something he doesn’t – and keeping it from him. “Whatever you’re thinking is happening, you’re getting it wrong. Trust me. And put on these.”
Correction. Steve trusts Natasha with his life, but he highly doubts she knows more about the private conversation Steve had with Tony, one he didn’t recount to her. He’ll stick to his own judgement for now.
But he supposes he can at least listen to her fashion advice. He sighs in defeat and takes a look at the pile of clothes in his arms. It’s–
“Nat, I can’t possibly wear that,” he protests. The suit she chose is a tight fit, not uncomfortable, but the way he looks in it…
“Of course you can wear it,” Nat counters easily. “Tony picked it for you.”
Steve feels his cheeks get warm. It’s true, it’s formal wear that Tony had tailored for him back when they moved into the Tower and the billionaire realized all Steve’s belongings could fit into two duffel bags. He was appalled and made sure Steve had everything he could need. Even a suit.
Steve gulps. “I’m sure he didn’t know my exact size because–”
“Oh my god, Stevie!” Bucky bursts into his room, the book still in one hand because he didn’t want to pause to put it down. “Stark had a new arm designed for me with absolute precision without ever looking at the old one up close, and you’re trying to tell us he didn’t know what he was doing with a suit?” He marks the page quickly with a bookmark before throwing the book on Steve’s bed and joining Nat, putting hands on his hips. “The man gifted you a suit more expensive than our old apartment in Brooklyn, Stevie, the least you can do is let him oggle your ass in it.”
If Steve’s cheeks weren’t pink before, they surely are now, but he knows he can’t win against Bucky and Nat. Well-fitted suit it is then.
***
“Red or blue?” Tony asks as he steps into the living room.
“Hmm?” Pepper doesn’t look up from the paperwork spread out on the coffee table.
Tony wiggles the ties in his hands and raises his voice. “Ms. Virginia Potts, could you please look up from your work and tell me which one is better for the occasion?”
Pepper stacks a bunch of documents on top of each other on one side and takes her time to finish sorting through another bunch. “I’d like to think this–” she gestures toward the table as she finally, finally lifts her head “–is what I’m paid to do.” She drops her pen on top of the pile of papers unceremoniously and stands up. “Not babysitting my boss while he’s freaking out about a date, nor picking his clothes for him, you know?”
Tony huffs and lowers the ties. “First of all: you’re being mean.” He hands both ties to Pepper, who’s now standing right in front of him. “Second: I don’t need babysitting, and I’m not freaking out.” He stands still, as much as he can, so Pepper can hold each tie to his shirt for comparison. “And last, but not least: this is not a date.”
Pepper squints and swaps the ties one more time before tossing the blue one on the couch nearby. “He did agree to be your plus one, didn’t he? How’s that not a date?”
Tony holds his chin up to allow Pepper better access to his shirt. “He did, but only because he thinks it’s his responsibility to help a teammate no matter what.”
Pepper tightens the tie knot and smooths the collar over it. “Yeah Tony, I’m sure the only reason he’d go on a date is his sense of obligation.” She shakes her head before taking a step back to check her work.
Tony breathes in and tries his best to smile at her. The only reason he’d go out with me, he thinks to himself, knowing better than to say it out loud. He doesn’t need another long speech on self-deprecation and a healthy attitude. It would take all night and Tony has a not-date to get to.
Pepper smiles back approvingly. “Perfect. Time to go get Captain America,” she cheers him on, turning Tony around and steering him the couple of steps to the elevator. She taps his shoulder. “You look fantastic. You are fantastic. He won’t be able to keep from staring at you, I promise.”
Tony smiles for real as she pecks a quick kiss on his hair. “Thanks, Pep, you’re my saviour.”
“I know,” she chuckles behind him and presses the elevator button. “You don’t pay me enough, you forget my birthdays and have serious boundary issues, but I gain a sense of personal fulfillment from keeping you alive and presentable that I like to think makes up for all of the rest.”
Tony turns back to wrap his arms around Pepper’s middle. “You love me, even if you can’t bring yourself to admit it,” he says before taking a step backward into the elevator. “Stick around until I come back?”
Pepper leans forward to brush a strand of hair off Tony’s forehead. “Be around when you come back after the gala to get it on with the good Captain?” She wrinkles her nose and finally steps out of the elevator. “Hell no!”
When Pepper’s figure disappears behind the sliding door, Tony’s smile falters into a grimace. As if he could bring Steve back to the penthouse, just like that; as if Steve would ever look at Tony that way.
He is Captain fucking America, for crying out loud, and Tony is, well, Tony Stark, with his laundry list of character defects and all the mistakes he’s made, largely publicly. Agreeing to date Ty for example, while he’d been madly in love with Steve – in the lowest moment of his life, in hopes of doing something less damaging than cracking a bottle of single malt open.
It doesn’t really matter that he hasn’t been a playboy for years, or that what went down with Ty and ended up in every tabloid and morning show was only partially his fault. It doesn’t really matter if Steve believes Tony’s side of the story or not. In such a disastrous turn of events, it doesn’t really matter if Steve finds Tony the asshole or the pathetic victim.
It’s a tested and proven theory now; just a fact. Not that Tony is willing to disclose the details to Pepper to make her understand, at least not anytime soon. He did, in fact, ask Steve to go out to the gala with him, for real, while letting Steve assume that it’s... whatever he thought it was; anything but an actual date. It felt so right to ask at that moment. Steve’s soft gaze was focused on Tony, his full attention making tiny his heart do tiny flutters, and Tony was so damn certain that Steve felt the same that he blurted out what had been on his mind for over a year.
Tony must be undateable in Steve’s mind. Why else would anyone think they’re being asked on a fake date instead of a real one? It doesn’t really matter that Tony has been madly in love with Steve for a couple of years. What actually matters is that Steve will never want to go on a real date with Tony. This is it. Picking Steve up for a fake date he agreed to just because he’s a nice person is the closest thing Tony will ever get to having Steve Rogers.
And it’s going to be alright, Tony tells himself as the elevator jolts slightly before it stops. He takes a deep breath, lets it out, does it again for good measure, and steps out.
He can keep it together for a few fucking hours.
He’s got this.
His composure lasts only about 30 seconds though, because the door screeches open, revealing Steve’s perfect figure. His hair is all slicked to the side and his perfect chest almost rips out of his perfectly ironed dress shirt. He’s wearing Tony’s suit– well, the suit that Tony had obsessed about a bit too much, to the point that his tailor threatened to kick Tony out if he made one more comment about the hem.
Suddenly all Tony wants to do is to run his fingers through those perfectly styled golden strands and bruise those pink, pink lips with a fierce kiss, make it as breathtaking as Steve’s looks. And that’s before Steve smiles, wide and bright, one of those smiles that light up his whole face – and the whole room with it.
Tony has not got this.
Tony is absolutely fucked.
***
The car ride is awkward and, thank God, short. Everywhere is close when you live with a billionaire, and not just because the Avengers Tower is in the middle of Manhattan. If the drive was to take too long, Tony would insist on flying the Quinjet or something equally extravagant; half because he’d really want to save time, and half just to be contrary to Steve's protests.
But now Tony’s quiet. It’s not something that happens often and, truth be told, Steve was hoping for Tony’s usual running commentary to soothe his own nerves. No such luck; Steve’s left without any distractions.
So he looks at Tony. The genius isn’t looking back at him – Steve’s anxiety tells him that the man is looking everywhere but at Steve; he quashes that line of thought. Tony isn’t interested in him, of course, but there’s no reason why he’d purposefully avoid Steve. If there was something wrong between them, they’d have called off this pretend-date, no harm done. No. Tony’s just nervous. He might be quiet, but Steve can see in Tony’s restless eyes that his mind is running a mile a minute. This Stone situation must be really eating him up.
It’s an elaborate kind of torture: Steve sitting in a limo opposite Tony. They’re close enough that if Steve leaned any closer, their knees would touch. They’re close enough that Steve could sketch all the creases of the well-tailored suit, capture all the minute details of Tony’s expression. He’s committing the view to memory as the car goes through Manhattan, to try and put it on paper once they get back – because Tony looks gorgeous. He always does, even in a worn-out shirt with grease smeared on his forehead, but there’s something different about tonight. As Steve’s traitorous mind supplies: he’s dressed up for his date. For you.
He doesn’t dare let himself believe in the scenario. It’s not the time nor the place for wishful thinking, not when Tony’s almost shaking with tension. It’s not about Steve, tonight. He’s here to support Tony, and it’s his honor to do so as Tony’s trusted friend.
Were it about Steve, he’d let his thoughts spiral, but for Tony, Steve doubles his efforts to find a conversation topic; a distraction. “So who’s going to be there, Shellhead?”
Tony startles – almost as if he forgot that you were even there with him, says the anxious whisper in Steve’s mind – and blinks a few times before he gathers his wits for an answer.
“Uh, the usual crowd?” He frowns. “There might be some people you know, or that you’ve met at some other event, but I doubt anyone fun will attend this snooze. It’s basically a birthday party for the spoiled teen twins turned into a charity event to make the family look good. Normally I wouldn’t be going but–” he cuts himself off, wincing. Steve wonders if Tony thinks he said too much, but nods in understanding. Some of it is the PR move to win over the media. The other part is trying to mend things with Ty, he thinks; or maybe make the guy jealous. Steve feels the, by now familiar, pang of hurt. But that’s fine. This is why Steve is here today with Tony. “Well, anyway, the only ones I’m sure about are us. Uh, I mean, Ty, and me and you.”
Steve is surprised at the pang of hurt he feels when Tony includes Ty in “us”. Since Tony asked Steve to accompany him to the gala, the miserable wistfulness has been smouldering in the back of Steve’s brain, but he thought he had it well under control. Now, the spark has grown into an almost overwhelming flame. He yearns, but he cannot have.
When Tony looks away and stares out of the window, one leg bouncing up and down – out of nerves or impatience? – Steve gives up on trying to make small talk. The point of this whole charade is to make Stone jealous, not Steve, but it’s obviously backfired. Badly. At least if he keeps quiet, he won’t say something too revealing that he’d regret tomorrow.
Steve fights with himself, trying to tear his eyes away to save his sanity but not quite ready to lose even a second when he can admire the man from up close, until the car lurches to a halt.
“We’re here,” Tony snaps out of his thoughts. He shoots Steve a quick smile; it’s tense, a bit helpless, but familiar, and for the first time since they got in the limo Steve is sure that everything between them is fine. Tony takes a deep breath, straightens his back, and with a confident smirk – that to Steve looks only half-fake – asks, “Are you ready?”
Steve responds with a reassuring smile of his own. He beats Tony to it: steps out of the car first and holds the door. When Tony takes the arm Steve offers, when they walk the red carpet and the camera flashes follow them inside, it almost feels real.
***
“It’s an honour to meet you in person, Captain Rogers,” Hank says in a comically formal tone, shaking Steve’s hand with what seems to be a little too much force.
Steve laughs and puts a hand over Hank’s shoulder. “It’s Steve, Mr. Pym. Tony’s talked so much about you and Ms. VanDyne.”
Jan shows up from right behind Hank, as if walking through an invisible door. “Nice catch,” she whispers in Tony’s ear before kissing his cheek and turning to Steve. “Call him Hank, Steve,” she chuckles, and turns back to wink at Tony before tugging at Hank’s arm. “And I’m Jan, Tony’s best friend. Not Pepper. Definitely not Rhodey.”
They all laugh and Tony does his best to turn the lopsided twitch on his face into a half-smile. Their presence at the gala is a wonderful surprise. It’s been a while since he caught up with Jan – fucking Ty and his hatred for all of Tony’s friends – but at some point in the future Tony must let her in on the truth. That Steve’s an extremely good catch, of course, but Tony has never managed to actually get him. That Tony’s not good enough for Steve. That the moment had gone and is now in the past; it was over before it ever began.
Tony sighs and shifts on his feet. Steve’s laughing again, his palm tapping Hank’s chest like they’ve been friends forever, and Hank looks proud of himself as if he’s won a ‘Making Captain America Laugh’ gold medal. Jan points to them with her chin, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Tony hasn’t heard the joke and doubts any of Hank’s jokes would be funny at all, but can’t help the happiness that spirals from somewhere within his chest and the warmth that nudges at the edge of his heart.
It’s just... so unfair, how Steve slots right in between Tony’s friends as if he’s been there before Tony, the way he sneaks into everyone’s heart without even trying. How it feels so out of this world and yet so real, for one short moment; how Tony’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest with the sorrow of losing what never was his to begin with.
“Having so much fun, eh?” comes the unwelcome sound of a familiar voice from behind Tony, their small bubble of happiness shattering with it.
Jan looks over Tony’s shoulders and sucks in a breath. “Oh hi, Ty.” She takes a step back, her hand going for Hank’s instantly. “We are-” she points to something in the distance “-we have to just-” she turns to Hank and doesn’t look back at Ty. “Hank, we have to…” She points in a different direction absentmindedly, pulling Hank’s fingers.
Hank’s face is blank. “Yeah, we…” He reels Jan in. “We have to…” He steps backward with a hint of a fake smile, and they both turn away and disappear in a heartbeat as if they were not there in the first place.
Tony doesn’t blame them. No sane person would want to stay in Ty’s presence a second longer than they absolutely had to. Tony doesn’t even want to turn around. He wants to walk away - he can probably catch up with Jan and Hank if he’s quick enough – and never look back. He wants to disappear into thin air, or hide somewhere under Steve’s jacket like the pathetic loser that he is, and never face Ty ever again, but unfortunately, that’s impossible for multiple reasons. Steve being next to him, glaring at Ty right now, being one.
“Mr. Stone,” Steve says, his arm snaking around Tony’s waist to pull him in. Tony looks up at him, and his head spins a little – from the proximity of his face to Steve’s Adam’s apple, or the sudden movement of Steve turning to face Ty, which in turn makes Tony face the fuckwad as well.
“Captain Rogers, sir.” Ty shakes Steve’s hand and Tony cracks his knuckles in anticipation of his turn, but Ty never holds his hand toward Tony’s. He clutches Tony’s arms instead. “Tony,” he says, his face opening into the fakest smile of human history, and he doesn’t let go for a too-long moment. “Breaking my poor heart, showing up with someone else already?”
Tony looks down at Ty’s fingers on his arm and grits his teeth. He should bat them away, he really really should, but Pepper’s warnings to make no more public drama ring in his ears, and he decides to blame the churning in his stomach on the idea of being slaughtered by her.
Tony takes a deep breath. “I–”
“A real heartbreaker, this guy, right?” Steve breaks in playfully and the anxious noise stops all of a sudden. “And I tend to seize opportunities as soon as they come up.”
Ty narrows his eyes and tilts his head, gaze fixed on Tony. “Oh?”
Tony swallows. “Well–”
“Can’t blame me though,” Steve continues, “Tony’s an absolute catch.”
Tony’s heart skips a beat and something prickles over his skin. Did Steve just… what?
Ty’s smile grows even wider. “Of course he is.” He nods, looking from Steve to Tony and back to Steve. “He's absolutely amazing.”
Steve’s fingers dig into Tony’s flesh and Tony stares at Ty as he re-examines his life choices. Did Ty always look this ugly, or did he just used to be better at hiding his filthy soul behind his attractive face?
“Absolutely,” Steve says with a soft voice, making something tickle between Tony’s ribs. “Absolutely,” he repeats, and it must be Tony’s imagination but his hold feels tighter all of a sudden. “But what am I saying? I’m sure you know far better yourself.” And he laughs but the softness is not there anymore.
Ty laughs too. “Oh, Captain Rogers. My hopeless love for Tony is still all over the media, so I’m not surprised that you’re aware of it, too.” He blinks and wrinkles his nose. “Didn’t expect it to be too late already.”
If Tony didn’t know him too well, he could’ve believed that Ty was actually sad. Or maybe if Ty hadn’t spent every afternoon in the past months sending Tony all sorts of threats, from leaking more photos to telling more sordid stories. He swallows a few times, hoping to push down his anger, and leans a little closer to Steve. Despite the gross feeling in the pit of his stomach, they make a great shot, at least as far as the people holding up their cameras are concerned, and this all will be over soon – but only if Tony can hold it together for a little bit longer and not punch that fake miserable smile off Ty’s face.
“You never know what the future holds,” Steve says, easing his grip on Tony’s side and Tony can’t help but look up at him. “You never know,” Steve repeats, as if to himself, before his smile grows absurdly wide and he turns to Tony. “Drinks?”
Tony stares at him, taking a moment to process the question. Drinks? He blinks quickly and shakes his head. He watches Steve nod, reassuringly, and gets even more confused when Steve turns back to Ty.
“Mr. Stone, did you want anything?”
“A dirty Martini, if it’s not too much trouble?”
“Tony?”
“You don’t have to go now, Steve,” Tony tries, “can’t we go together later?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Steve nods again. “I’ll see if they do virgin Espresso Martinis.”
Steve’s warmth leaves Tony’s side and Tony watches in disbelief as he turns on his heels and strides across the hall. What the actual hell?
“Don’t pout, Tony, I’m right here. These fuckers come and go, but you can always be sure that I’ll be here for you.”
And here we go.
Tony breathes out and presses his thumbs into his palms. “You are the worst of the fuckers. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“Bullshit, baby,” Ty says, grinning. “I know you miss me too.”
Tony sucks in a shaky breath and does his best to not turn around to look for Steve. “I don’t miss you. You cheated on me. You stole Stark Industries intel.” He takes another deep breath. “I don’t fucking miss you. I hate you.” How long does getting the stupid drinks take?
Ty’s smile finally disappears as he presses his lips together. “Is this about Captain Spangles? You’ve gotten so much confidence from sucking his frosty dick that you dare to talk back to me?”
This is absolutely fine, Tony tells himself, even if all he wants to do is tap the gauntlet button on his watch and shoot Ty right between the eyes. “Yes, Ty, that’s exactly what this is about. Me and Captain America are humping like bunnies, and his super soldier serum is giving me super confidence.”
It feels so terribly good, for at least ten seconds, the way Ty’s expression crumbles right before Tony’s eyes. “Such a slut, huh?” Ty mumbles between his teeth. “Couldn’t even keep it in your pants before I decided to take you back?”
“I don’t want you to take me back. I don’t want you to have anything to do with me, ever again. I just don’t want you, Ty, period. Stop calling me. Stop texting me. I don’t want to see your name on my phone, or in my assistant notes, or on the visitor’s list down at the lobby.” Tony huffs in frustration. “I’ve moved on so just... stop.”
Ty runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up, and looks very confused for a moment. Tony would have a good chuckle, if it wasn’t for the rush of anxiety that immediately washes over him with the way Ty’s other hand squeezes tightly into a fist. “I don’t stop.”
Things happen in a quick sequence afterward, and Tony wonders if he’s gone too far too fast. For a hot second, he thought that he might be capable of keeping Ty from crossing his boundaries this time. The proximity of Steve must have gotten to his head. Having three different lethal weapons on his person might have given him the delusion of a strength he still doesn’t possess.
Wrong.
Stupid.
In a span of seconds, Ty is dragging him out of the main hall, with an arm around his shoulders, fingers digging firmly into his bicep, and Tony is tagging along, without even putting up a fight, burning on the surface of his skin, frozen inside.
***
Steve is being ridiculous and he’s aware of it. He knows he’s only here because Tony wanted to bring in a friendly face in case his ex got nasty and maybe make the guy jealous in the process, but from what Steve has seen, Stone is being perfectly polite. If Tony wants to get back together, Steve’s not going to stand in their way. Stepping away to get their drinks is just doing his job as a wingman..
And if Steve can’t help feeling like there’s something off-putting about Stone, well, he needs to put a lid on his jealousy and live on.
“A virgin Espresso Martini,” he orders at the bar, “a beer and–" he pauses, frowns, and makes a quick decision, ”and a dry Martini.”
It’s not exactly what Stone ordered, but it’s close enough to pass off as a genuine mistake. It will make Tony’s big heart look even better against Steve’s carelessness– no. That’s not it. It’s a flimsy excuse he’d like to believe in, but Steve knows the true reason: he’s being spiteful. Bucky would be amused at Steve’s expense, but he’d probably encourage anything that could lead to removing Tony’s ex from the picture and getting the billionaire together with Steve. Sometimes Steve wishes he had Bucky’s confidence in the matter.
But that’s neither here nor there, right now. Get a grip, Rogers; it’s not about you.
He shakes his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. It works only partially, but then the bartender sets the three drinks on the counter and Steve’s busy with figuring out how to pick up all of them at once.
Once he holds them well enough, he turns to find Tony among the crowd. He’s not where Steve left him, but that’s not unexpected. Tony is always in motion – Steve smiles fondly as he scans the room; it’s one of his favorite things about the man.
He catches a glimpse of Tony and Stone right as they leave the ballroom through the side door. It’s just a quick second, but Steve realizes three things almost in the same instant.
First: they move quickly and without hesitation. Steve’s only been shown the main hall and this room; he has no idea where the door they chose leads, but Stone and Tony look like they know where they’re going. It’s obviously not the first time they sneaked away from a gala.
Second: It’s perfectly acceptable for two adults to get back together, even after an explosive breakup like the one Tony and Stone had. If they chose to make up– or God, even if they want one last time together before they break up for good, Steve has no right to look down on them. He has absolutely no right to feel jealous, either.
Third: Tony’s frame is tense; Steve can tell from across the room. When the man glances back, right before he disappears behind the door, his face is blank.
Steve knows this face. He only sees it when Tony doesn’t want to admit something is wrong. He tries to hide it, but Steve is never fooled. He knows Tony’s expressions better than the back of his own shield.
Steve’s moving before he can even make a conscious decision. He dumps the drinks back on the counter and rushes across the room. He thinks he hears one of the glasses fall over behind him, but he’s not slowing down to apologize. Not with the deafening alarm sirens ringing in his head because something is wrong.
The doubts hit him again as he swerves around the guests and mutters excuse-me’s on autopilot – there are too many in his way, why did they have to invite so many people?! – because what if he read it wrong? He only saw Tony for the briefest moment, and no matter how hard Steve tries to stow his feelings away, they’re always right there. It’s not impossible that he misinterpreted what he saw because he doesn’t want Tony to be with Stone.
But what if he’s right?
It’s enough to make Steve hasten his steps. He trusts his intuition on missions when their lives depend on it, and though Steve doubts there’s anything supervillainous going on, he’s not going to risk ignoring a hunch now. Not when it comes to Tony’s safety.
He gets to the side door and forces himself to stop. If he’s wrong and he walks in on them getting it on, he might be able to back away without them noticing if he’s discreet enough. And if he’s right, the element of surprise might be a useful advantage.
With a deep breath, Steve creaks the door open. There’s no one in the immediate vicinity and the buzz of the gala is too loud to pick up any sounds at first. It’s only when he closes the door behind himself that he can hear Stone humming Tony’s name. Steve’s feet take him in that direction – maybe Steve should be walking away, because Stone’s voice is positively lustful, but it’s also predatory, and Steve needs to make sure Tony’s okay. He needs to be sure.
He turns the corner, and–
He’s never regretted being right as much as he does at this moment. He feels bile rising up in his throat and for a few seconds, he’s too stunned to move.
Stone has Tony pinned against the wall. He’s holding Tony’s hands up above his head with one arm, the palm of the other cupping his crotch. Stone has his mouth on Tony’s neck, and the whole scene could look arousing– if Tony didn’t have his face turned away, his expression lifeless, absent. Resigned.
He’s the first one to notice Steve. Tony’s face comes back to life, instantly twisting in panic. When he lets out a broken whine, Steve realizes it’s the first sound he'd made since Steve entered the corridor. That makes it even worse.
Startled by the sudden noise, Stone detaches his teeth from Tony’s skin to sneer at him, and Steve can’t take it any longer.
He surges forward, pulls the bastard away from Tony with his left hand, and when Stone swirls around with the force of it, Steve’s right fist is already waiting for him.
Leaving the excuse of a man to screech in pain and hold his now bleeding nose, Steve turns to the one who really matters.
“Tony,” he breathes. He cups Tony’s cheek with his hand, giving in to the urge and hoping it comforts Tony as much as it does Steve.
“Steve.” Tony’s voice is even softer than Steve’s. Vulnerable. Steve hates seeing him like this. Tony opens his mouth to say something more, but Stone, even punched in the face, isn’t finished.
“Came to save your new fucktoy, Captain?” Tony’s face crumbles at Stone’s words, and Steve’s heart breaks with it. “Tony here is just the perfect whore, isn’t–?”
One punch wasn’t enough to silence the asshole, but the second one knocks him out cold.
Steve breathes hard through his nose. There are words he’d like to have with Stone – how Tony isn’t just anything; how he’s more than his body and more than he lets himself show to the world – but saying all this to the unconscious body would turn the punch into a theatrical move. Steve wants Tony to know it wasn’t a grand dramatic gesture; it was the most logical consequence of someone disrespecting Tony.
He’s startled by fingertips brushing against his clenched fist. He lets those fingers loosen his hand and watches them swipe the little drop of blood smeared on Steve’s knuckles. He doesn’t dare break the serenity of the moment by looking up at Tony’s face.
“Is he…?” Tony asks, his voice quiet but practical.
“He’ll live.” Steve knows the limits of a regular human; he’s pulled his punch and, besides, he can hear Stone’s shallow breathing when he focuses.
“Mhm.” It’s hard to tell if Tony’s happy with this fact or not. With how shaky the fingers are against Steve’s skin, he supposes Tony’s not sure himself.
Steve looks up then, but the other man has his eyes cast down at Steve’s hand that he’s now holding in both of his own.
“I hate seeing you like this.” The whisper is out before Steve knows he’s opened his mouth. Tony’s eyes jump up to his in undisguised surprise. Steve feels a pang of fear that Tony might take it wrong, so he moves his thumb comfortingly over the fingers holding his hand. He hopes Tony can read everything else from his face.
A corner of Tony’s mouth quirks up in a humorless grin. It’s a self-deprecating expression that Steve knows well, but he’s never seen Tony’s face so open. His eyes are sad and when he squeezes them shut, Steve guesses he’s trying to hold back tears. “I hate you seeing me like this,” Tony admits softly.
They stay like this for a moment, quiet. Steve takes that time to sort out his feelings. He’s disgusted with Stone, yes, but he’s also aching to take Tony away from here, to keep him safe.
He gulps when he’s suddenly hit with a realization that it was his own mistake that’s led them here. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve left you alone with him–”
“No, Steve, don’t apologise it’s–”
“–but I thought that you wanted him back and I–”
“–not your fault, it’s not the first time he–”
Tony’s interrupted with a growl that Steve recognises as his own. Seeing it once was agonizing, and Steve wasn’t even at the receiving end of the abuse, now that Tony admits it’s happened before... Steve truly hated some of the villains they faced, but the outrage that burns his insides in this moment is new. He refuses to imagine ever wanting to break the beautiful man in front of him. How would anyone dare?
He forces a deep inhale, then exhales sharply. The rage is justified, but not helpful. He’ll call back on it later; perhaps in court, testifying against Stone. Right now he needs to focus on the present.
“I’m sorry I left you alone with him.” When Tony tries to protest again, Steve squeezes his hand. “When you said Ty will be here and then asked me to come with you, I thought you wanted to get back with him. That you were still in love with him. I thought you only asked me to be your date this evening to make him jealous. I’m stupid, I should’ve reali– ”
“Gods, Steve.” Tony doesn’t last long without saying something, Steve notes fondly. “Don’t apologise; it’s my fault. I should’ve told you upfront I wanted to avoid him. But I asked you out, and you thought I asked you for friendly support, and I was too scared to admit that it was genuine. I’ve wanted to go out with you since forever. Fuck!” Tony thumps his head back against the wall. “Well. I said that. So. There it is.”
Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. Tony doesn’t try to take it back, to talk his way out of the confession. Hopeful, Steve covers Tony’s hands with his left one. “I didn’t dare to hope,” he admits softly.
They stay another moment in the silence, this time looking each other in the eye. Together, crossing all the way from disbelief to hope.
“So does it mean...?” Tony starts, but in a rare happenstance, his words fail him.
It’s okay; Steve can read the question he wants to ask in his eyes. He raises Tony’s hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss on the man’s knuckles.
“I think it does,” Steve agrees with a likely soppy smile. There’s more he wants to say – he wants to tell Tony how precious he is, how beautiful his smile, how brilliant his mind and how big his heart – but they’re still in a side corridor of strangers’ mansion, and Stone is still lying unconscious by their feet. “Would you let me take you home, sweetheart?”
Tony nods, swallows, and with a raspy voice, heavy with unspoken emotions, admits, “I would let you take me anywhere, handsome.”
Steve’s heart is bursting. After all the years he’s spent yearning, believing Tony out of his reach, the sudden revelation is almost overwhelming.
Steve beams. It’s a promise of more.
There will be time for confessions and assurances. There will be time to hug Tony tight, to breathe in his scent, and make sure that he’s safe and sound. There will be time for kisses and intimacy, and even for acknowledging the innuendo ever-present in Tony’s words. There will be time for anything and everything they want.
I love you, Steve thinks when Tony leans on him, trusting, as Steve leads him home.
There will be time to say it out loud, too.