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Living with a bunch of overpowered humans, terrifying superspies and a literal God was taking some getting used to. After the fiasco of New York courtesy of a God with even worse inferiority issues than Tony, he’d fixed up Stark tower and invited the lot of them to move in.
Well, not really. He’d basically manhandled Bruce into moving in, sweetening the deal by promising private lab floors and a Hulk-out room. Clint and Natasha had turned up a few days later, citing some shit about team spirit and SHIELD liaison, but it didn’t take much digging for Tony to find a frankly ridiculous amount of SHIELD staff complaints against Clint. Sure, he’d nearly killed them all when he targeted the helicarrier. But he’d been under mind control, and he had gone on to be an integral part of the resistance. So Tony accepted them in with only minimal token grumbling.
Thor turned up a few days after depositing his insane brother back in their homeland, and just never left.
And he found Steve stood awkwardly at reception a few weeks after the invasion, clutching a single bag of belongings and looking horrifically out of place. Steve had turned his big blue puppy eyes of American goodness on Tony, and was invited up without saying a single word.
So yes, Tony was having to come to terms with his home being invaded by the weirdest collection of people he knew, and that’s saying something. Parts of it were nice, like stumbling up from his workshop at 3 am and finding Bruce baking in the communal kitchen, or Clint playing one of the games consoles in the private theatre. Tony found it was surprisingly easy to like all of them, even Steve, who apparently had a hilarious sense of humour underneath all the American righteousness that oozed out of him.
But living in such close quarters brought about its own problems; namely, that Tony had a reputation to uphold, and it was significantly more difficult when there always seemed to be at least one person in the communal areas, and god knows where the superspies were when they weren’t visible.
That’s because Tony had a secret. A secret that would, in his opinion, ruin him if it were to become public knowledge. Namely that Tony Stark, renowned playboy and party animal, hated sex.
New York’s resident technological genius and infamous playboy is back on the dating scene. Tony Stark of Stark Industries was spotted at the Advancing Science gala last night with multiple women on his arm, but only one (un)lucky(?) lady was seen entering his limo at the end of the evening.
Stark had toned down his escapades upon returning from captivity in Afghanistan, spending his time on designing and piloting the undeniably spectacular Iron Man suit; a story with which we are all familiar, and grateful of, considering the part he played in saving New York from the alien invasion last month. Some have suggested his 180 turn in personality is due to a guilt complex, while others have implied his time at the mercy of terrorists has led to certain performance issues in the bedroom. Whatever the reason, Stark had not been seen in his usual haunts until last night.
If this latest snapshot is merely the beginning of his descent back into partying and adultery, we must wonder whether he will be allowed to maintain his position on the Avengers team. Surely Captain America won’t stand for such flippant debauchery on his team? We’ll follow the story as it unfolds; as of yet, the woman is unidentified, but we’re sure to see an increase in conquests over the coming months.
“Mute,” Tony commanded, shaking his head as he stepped out of the elevator onto the communal floor of the newly-built Avengers tower. If “Tony Stark spotted with female” was enough to make the main news, he clearly needed to get out more, and quick. He had, admittedly, been less ostentatious about his exploits since getting back from his one-star vacation in the Air-BnB in Afghanistan (his previous birthday party not withstanding, but hey, he was dying). He needed to get back out to reclaim his playboy status.
Clint looked over his shoulder from the sofa, spotting Tony. “Sorry Tony, it’s just the news,” he tried to explain, gesturing to the now-muted TV.
“Don’t sweat it Legolas; I’ve been used to the delightfully inane chatter of the press since before I could walk. Did Thor break my toaster again?” Tony gingerly picked up the smoking toaster, concentrating on keeping his hands steady and his face neutral. “Seriously, that man has no respect. Is this fabric?” He plonked himself down at the breakfast bar and began disassembling the maimed appliance.
Bruce looked up from his seat across from Tony. “I think we need a list of things that cannot be toasted. Bread? Yes. Poptarts? Also yes. Socks? Absolutely not.”
“Are you seriously telling me he put socks in my toaster?! Socks?!”
“Well, just be thankful Nat caught him before he put his boxers in.” Bruce shuddered. “I think I’ll stick to my muesli.”
“I’m kicking you all out. J, make a note, kick the Avengers out.”
“Noted, Sir. May I remind you that Dr Banner and Captain Rogers provide 87% of your sustenance?”
“Okay fine, they can stay, but the rest of them are out!” He pulled some frazzled sock from the toaster slot. “Pink unicorn socks, really Thor?” He mumbled.
“You sure about that?” Tony looked up and straight into Natasha’s hands, which were deftly peeling an apple with a dagger in the most terrifying way.
“Uh, when the fuck did you get in here, may I remind you I have a heart condition? Remember that? Ringing any bells?” Natasha continued peeling the apple, not breaking eye contact. “Okay whatever, you can stay, but no daggers in the kitchen!” Tony backtracked. Natasha smirked, patting him on the head and leaving the perfectly peeled and segmented apple in front of him. “And how do you intend to enforce that rule, дорогой?”
“I’m terrified, you can do what you wish, please stay back,” he replied honestly and bluntly. She patted his cheek. “Good choice.”
Tony returned to his toaster as the other present Avengers continued with their morning chatter. He didn’t even realise he’d finished the apple until the toaster was fixed, at which point he placed his screwdriver down and looked up to find the kitchen empty and a little pile of tools stacked neatly next to him.
“J, where did these come from?” he picked up the screwdriver again with a frown, twirling it in his hands.
“Captain Rogers collected them for you when he saw you struggling to open the inner casing of the toaster with your thumbnail, Sir.”
“Huh.”
A few months later, and Tony could tell the team was used to stumbling into the communal kitchen and finding a rather rumpled and sleepy looking stranger sat there alone. Steve in particular had adapted much quicker than Tony’d expected, often offering the mystery guest some of the ginormous breakfast he always ate after a morning run, and making polite small talk until JARVIS prompted the non-resident to leave.
Tony himself wouldn’t emerge for at least 24 hours, preferring to hole himself down in his workshop and drown out the demons in his brain using ridiculously loud music (according to JARVIS, anyway), and on particularly bad days, alcohol.
After one of his visitors had left the tower, Tony sat in his workshop and allowed himself to cry. He didn’t do that often; Stark men are made of iron and all that jazz. But today the demons were too strong, and it was all he could do to resist calling Rhodey or Pepper to come and quieten them. He utterly despised being an inconvenience, regardless of popular opinion.
And of course, to top off his misery, an Avengers callout came through just as he finished his first bottle of whiskey.
“J, suit,” he murmured, staggering to his feet.
“With all due respect Sir, you are significantly over the blood alcohol limits. I cannot release the suits.”
“Fuck you J, ‘m fine,” he snarked as he fell into Butterfingers. “Whoops, sorry B,” patting the bot clumsily on his “head” and receiving a happy whirr in response. His bots were the best.
“May I recommend you relocate to the sofa and watch the battle via the Avenger’s cameras?” JARVIS suggested.
Grumbling, Tony agreed, plopping himself heavily onto the well-worn sofa and calling up a holoscreen.
He was just in time to see the rest of his team meeting in the briefing room, via JARVIS’ cameras.
“Where’s Iron Man?” Steve questioned, taking his position near the head of the table while they waited for the SHIELD link-up to connect.
“I regret to inform you that Mr. Stark will be unable to join you for this mission, Captain. He is currently indisposed.” JARVIS commented. Tony winced. He knew Steve wouldn’t just accept that.
“Indisposed? What do you mean?”
“I am not at liberty to say, Captain.”
Steve frowned, exchanging a glance with Bruce.
“Is he safe?” Steve questioned. Now, that is not a question Tony had expected. But he guessed it made sense. Steve was very much a mother hen, and wanted to know the status of his team at all times. It’d caused a lot of tension between them at first, what with Tony’s inherent need to push and test the boundaries of everyone.
“Sir will be available by tomorrow.” The wording of that was definitely not lost on Steve, and Tony saw him frowning and opening his mouth to argue, but before he could challenge the AI, Fury’s face popped up on the screen at the head of the table. His face went neutral. Captain America mode was on.
Tony watched the battle from the safety of his workshop, a head floating in a drunken haze and arms burning from the self-inflicted wounds they’d gained this morning.
Watching the battle made him feel even worse. The Avengers were capable of handling the flying doombots, but it’s unmistakable that they would have benefitted from the presence of additional air support.
He winced as he watched Clint nearly become a pancake on the sidewalk when he was forced to jump from a building and only just remembered to shoot a recovery arrow in time, obviously forgetting that Iron Man wasn’t there to grab him.
The battle was finishing up and there appeared to be no serious injuries for his team.
“J, turn this off.” Tony gestured with an arm and winced. “Fuck.”
“Sir if I may, you have lost a significant amount of blood. I suggest you retrieve the medical pack from the drawer on your left.”
“Hnngggg…” Tony hoisted himself from the floor, head spinning and threatening to tip over. Grabbing the medpack, he tended to his wounds and collapsed on the couch and closed his eyes.
“’m gonna just…. Have a nap now J…”
“Sir, I really don’t recommend-“
“Mute.” JARVIS went silent, and Tony breathed a sigh. He’d just have a little nap, recover before the team got back, and then he could join them for dinner. He could make up some excuse for not being at the battle, but he just needed some sleep first. That’d fix it.
He woke a few hours later to incessant banging on the doors to his workshop.
“J what the everloving fuck is going on?!” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes and trying to ignore the pounding.
“Captain Rogers has been demanding access to your workshop for the past 20 minutes, sir.”
“And you didn’t wake me up, why?”
“I was muted.”
Tony winced at the tone of disapproval in the AIs voice. “Oh yeah. Well. Tell Spangles I’m busy, something dangerous and time-sensitive. He’s a big boy, he can find his own way back upstairs on his own,” he replied, yawning and sitting up. Damn that was a big headache. Dragging his sluggish body up, he plodded to a desk and sat down heavily, bringing up a holoscreen to show him the view from the camera installed above the workshop doors.
Steve was stood, still in his Captain America regalia, body language radiating barely contained frustration and righteousness. The sight of it really riled Tony up, and he was staring with increasing intensity at the image when JARVIS piped back up.
“Captain Rogers has requested a meeting with you, sir.”
“A meeting? Fuck no! I’m busy, I don’t have time to pander to Captain Tightarse and his American holiness.” Just to prove his point, Tony grabbed a StarkPad and began disassembling it. Yup, so very busy.
A few more moments passed, and Tony watched as holo-Steve stomped away from the workshop. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The following day, he wasn’t so lucky. Back in his workshop, elbow deep in the guts of the wiring for his latest Iron Man chest piece, Tony had to thank himself for his genius in creating such an infallible piece of technology in the form of the arc reactor, when he was startled by the sound of the workshop doors forcibly grinding open.
He whipped around. “What the fuck?!”
Steve was stood in the doorway, holding the workshop doors apart with alarming ease considering Tony had designed those doors himself and they were, for all intents and purposes, bomb-proof.
“Sorry.” Steve deadpanned.
“You don’t look very sorry.”
“Well, you weren’t responding to my meeting requests. So I took matters into my own hands. Literally.” He replied, quirking one stupidly perfect eyebrow towards the doors that were still valiantly trying to crush him.
“Seriously? I’m busy and your response is billion dollar property damage? Isn’t Captain America supposed to be against such behaviour?” Tony groused, quickly checking his arms were covered before standing up and walking over to manually disable the doors.
“Well, sometimes Captain America makes sacrifices for the greater good.”
“Oh I fucking bet he does. You can let go now.”
“Language. Thanks.” Steve nodded towards the doors as he released his arms and wasn’t crushed by Tony’s spectacular technology. “So, about that meeting?”
Tony looked at him in disbelief. “You come down here, break my workshop, interrupt highly important work, and now you want a meeting?”
“Yup.”
“Fine. What can I do for you, Captain oh Captain?” Tony sat back down at his bench, spinning his chair and sticking his arms back into his circuitry so he didn’t have to face Steve for the inevitable lecture on why he ignored the callout yesterday.
“It’s about yesterday,” and yep, here we go. “Is everything okay?” Wait, what?
“What?” he said dumbly.
He could feel the frown through Steve’s words. “Is everything okay?” he repeated. “It’s not like you to miss a callout, and JARVIS wouldn’t tell us where you were. So we were concerned.” And that absolutely didn’t send a rush of warm guilt to his stomach, definitely not.
“Thanks for the concern Capster, but I was in a time-sensitive meeting. Stark Industries stuff, y’know. Couldn’t get out unless the world was ending, literally, and I admit I kinda hoped it was, but anything less simply wasn’t enough. Sorry for missing the fun though, JARVIS was monitoring you guys. He’d’ve let me know if you seriously needed me.” He pulled an important looking wire out of the circuitry and promptly zapped himself. “Fuck!”
Steve’s hands were suddenly on his wrists, pulling them firmly away from where he’d automatically cradled his zapped hand against the arc reactor. “Let me see.”
“Uhhh…” it took Tony’s brain an embarrassingly long few moments for him to realise why Captain America looking at his arms right now would be a monumentally terrible idea. He snatched his arms back, sitting on his hands, and gave a cheeky grin that was probably bordering on the wrong side of hysteria, but what can you do?
“I’m fine Cap, I’ve had worse than that from my toothbrush. Anyway, are we done here? I have important shit to do, or Pepper is gonna mutilate me.”
Steve stared at him, an expression on his face that Tony couldn’t quite decipher, and he didn’t like that. “Hello, earth to Cap? Do you need some more thawing time?” He tried to joke, unnerved by the intensity of Steve’s scrutiny.
“… I’m fine. As long as you’re fine, and you’ll let us know if there’s any problems?” Steve prodded.
“Yep, will do, you know where the door is, it’s the big gap in my wall that you manhandled into submission.” He turned back to his work, hoping that was a clear enough dismissal.
“Yeah, sorry about that, I can pay for repairs...?” Steve offered, and isn’t that adorable, that he’d cause millions of dollars of property damage and then just offer to pay for it like Tony wasn’t a billionaire.
“Don’t sweat it Cap, did I ever tell you I destroyed my workshop and several priceless cars when I tested Iron Man? No? Well there you go. A broken door is no sweat, now off you go before the spy twins come to check if we’ve murdered each other.”
“If you’re sure….” Tony grunted in response, and listened intently until he heard Steve’s footsteps retreating up the stairs. Jesus, that man was insane, there’s a perfectly good elevator.
“JARVIS, schedule the building crew to fix that door ASAP.”
JARVIS had automatically declined an invite from Bruce to join the team for a movie. He’d taken the initiative, seeing as his creator was currently pacing in rapid circles and muttering to himself.
Tony meanwhile was definitely not having a mini-panic attack. Nope.
What was it about Steve that made Tony want to open his mouth and spill his darkest secrets? It has to be the eyes, he concluded. The damn blue puppy eyes and the sense of concern that radiates from his marvellous pecs.
“J, call Rhodey.”
As the phone rang, Tony stared blankly at his work station.
“Tones? Everything okay?” Rhodey’s worried-but-calm voice penetrated the haze Tony was in, bringing him back to the room softly.
“Rhodey! Light of my life! How’s the air force treating you?” Tony exclaimed.
“… What’s wrong Tony? Do I need to take some leave?” And there it was, proof that Rhodey knew Tony better than anyone, able to recognise when Tony wasn’t okay, and willing to drop everything to be there.
“No, don’t do that, I’m fine.” There was a pregnant pause. “I’ll be fine. I just, I needed to hear your voice. Is it a bad time? Sorry, I’ll go-”
“Don’t be ridiculous Tones,” Rhodey cut him off before he could get stuck in a rambling loop. “What’s happening? Is this something to do with why Iron Man didn’t attend the last Avengers call out?” And of course Rhodey would know that.
“Uh yeah, kinda.”
“Are you safe?”
“I am now, yeah.” And Tony knew the wording of that wouldn’t be lost on Rhodey, but he couldn’t bring himself to directly lie to him.
“Right. I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” His voice firm, Tony knew there would be no arguing with him tonight.
“… Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just make sure you’re safe ‘til I get there, yeah?”
“Yeah, I will.”
True to his word, Rhodey turned up early the next morning and promptly let himself into the workshop, bypassing the communal areas entirely. It’s almost as though he knew Tony had spent the night lurking in his workshop and steadfastly ignoring any and all attempts to contact him while he worked through his spiral.
“Honeybear!”
“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey looked at him with an exasperated smile, striding across the workshop and reaching down to Tony’s open arms for a hug.
Tony stuck his face into Rhodey’s shoulder and inhaled. Yep, that was the scent of safety. He grumbled when Rhodey pulled back with a knowing grin. “Hey, this shirt was clean. It doesn’t need Stark-snot all over the shoulder, thank you very much.”
Tony leant back and grabbed his chest dramatically. “Snot? Snot?! I’ll have you know my body no longer produces such a disgusting substance.” They stared at each other, before Tony grinned. “I replaced it with coffee. That way I can drink it when it leaks!”
“Yet again, you manage to disgust me within 5 minutes.” Rhodey shook his head wryly. “You’re a disgusting creature.”
“And yet you always come back to me,” Tony answered a bit too quickly, a bit too openly. He winced. He didn’t realise he’d reached the point of tiredness dubbed awkwardly-honest-self-deprecation-and-insecurities. And now Rhodey was giving him that knowing and contemplating stare that made him squirm. “What?” He grumbled.
“… So, JARVIS told me on the way down that nobody else is in the building. Let’s go watch movies and paint each other’s nails.”
“Really, Rhodes?” But Rhodey was already sauntering towards the elevator, knowing Tony would follow.
Five hours later, Tony and Rhodey had successfully raided and used Pepper’s supply of nail polish, watched two films and were on a third, eaten a ridiculous amount of pizza, and had a chat about feelings (or, a one-sided Rhodey-rant about how Tony was valid and deserved the world and needed to accept the unspoken part of himself). Tony was admiring his sparkly red and yellow nails when Steve walked into the room, looking at the two of them sprawled across the couch with a raised eyebrow.
Apparently Tony’s mouth hadn’t received the “be chill” memo, and released a “meep”.
Rhodey, bless his soul, looked up and managed to distract Steve with a discussion on planes or some shit, the military weirdos, while Tony was more concerned with awkwardly shuffling to the kitchen to get more snacks and definitely not hide.
The fact that Steve somehow managed to extract himself from Rhodey meant that either Steve was a lot more skilled than Tony gave him credit for, or Rhodey had allowed him to leave, in which case Rhodey is deemed a traitor and would not be getting any of the new snacks.
“Here,” Steve said.
“Huh?” Tony looked down at the bowl that had magically appeared in his previously empty hands.
“You’re making popcorn, right?” And Steve legitimately tipped his head to one side and blinked at him like a goddamn puppy, what the hell?
“Uh, yeah, I was,” Tony’s brain was rebooting far too slowly. Back online but at minimum capacity.
“Would you like me to do it?” Steve offered, sticking his hand out to take the bowl back from Tony. “You seem a bit out of it. You should get more sleep.”
Tony stared at Steve’s back as he prepared the popcorn. “Well, genius waits for no mortal. No time for sleep when the bug bites,” he explained, leaning back on the counter and waiting.
“I guess that makes sense. But you should take better care of yourself. You deserve to be cared for.” And again; what the fuck?
Tony was spared from replying to that bizarre comment by the now filled bowl of popcorn being placed into his hands. “You take that through, and I’ll grab some drinks,” Steve suggested, gesturing to the exit.
Before he knew it, Tony was back on the sofa next to Rhodey, who was looking at him with a shit-eating grin. “So. How’s the Captain?”
“Really? You send him to harass me and then brazenly ask how he is? Also why is he getting drinks? And making popcorn? This is our thing,” Tony whined.
Rhodey shrugged. “Honestly Tones? I think he’s good for you. Someone needs to look out for you, god knows you won’t do it yourself. I can’t be here often, and as amazing as JARVIS is,” he nodded to the ceiling, “he’s limited to your tech. You should let someone else in, and I think Rogers is a good choice.”
Again, Tony didn’t get a chance to respond as Steve took that moment to step through the door and place three drinks down on the table next to the abandoned popcorn bowl, half-eaten pizza and nail polish pile.
“Thanks!” Rhodey chirped, grabbing a drink and reclining back.
“No problem. So, what are we watching?” Steve asked, taking a seat on the sofa next to theirs.
“I don’t know; what are we watching platypus?” Tony side-eyed Rhodey. He’d invited Steve, therefore this was his game to play, but Tony wouldn’t make it easy.
“Doctor Who?” He suggested. Tony nodded; that was a fair choice. Steve would either love it or hate it, what with the time travel and shitty CGI that would probably make him gasp in amazement.
Halfway through the third episode, Steve decided to throw another proverbial spanner into Tony’s already-malfunctioning brain. “So, what’s a guy gotta do to join the painted nail club around here?” He asked.
And Rhodey, the sneaky little snake he is, turned to answer. “It’s a tradition we’ve had since MIT. Our version of a “girly night”, where we get to gossip about all the pretty girls and boys and lament about our woes. You are absolutely welcome to join, but you have to share an awkward romance story to fully join our sisterhood.”
Steve nodded earnestly. “That seems reasonable. So the first guy I slept with, his Mom came back while we were lying in bed together. He pushed me out his bed, rolled me under and blocked me in with a duvet until she’d left. By the time he let me out I was in the middle of an asthma attack, he had to call his Mom back to help me ‘cause she was a nurse. Anyway, once my breathing was under control she asked why I’d been lurking under his bed in my boxers, and he told her I’m mentally unwell and take my clothes off when I have an episode. I had to pretend to be retarded – uh, sorry, you don’t say that anymore do you – until I left. Next I knew, she’d moved him to a new school to avoid “that unstable naked boy”. So in all, not the most successful,” he finished, rubbing the back of his neck in an adorably embarrassed kind of way.
Tony and Rhodey stared at him. He stared back, cheeks starting to flush. “Was that not the kind of story you wanted?” He asked meekly.
“That. Was. Perfect.” Tony stated, meeting Rhodey’s eyes briefly before they dissolved into fits of laughter. “You had a goddamn asthma attack hiding basically naked under someone’s bed? Jesus Steve!”
Steve grinned, no longer looking embarrassed. “Yeah, I was so sickly I’m surprised it didn’t happen while we were actually, y’know, doing stuff. I should be grateful it waited until after I guess.”
“Cap, welcome to the club,” Rhodey declared, wiping a tear from his eyes and standing up to give Steve a manly clap on the shoulder. “To complete your initiation, you’re required to pick the colours for your new nails, and be subjected to us applying them. Choose wisely.”
“Can I get matching Iron Man ones?”
The next few months passed with an increasing amount of time spent with Steve. They went to movies, art galleries, restaurants, the zoo. Tony wasn’t stupid, he knew where this was heading. And this, this was a bad idea. Getting to know Steve, learning his private stories and fun personality, his sexuality, his preference for colours, his openness to modern society. It could only end badly, when Tony couldn’t give him what he expected and deserved.
But that’s the thing, Tony thought. He wanted to give Steve everything. This thing between them had grown so quickly it had caught him off-guard. But he found himself thinking of Steve when he wasn’t there; about how he’d hold Tony after a nightmare, how he brought him snacks and meals when he was on a workshop binge. How his hair fell into his eyes when he hadn’t cut it recently, and how carefully he handled everything to ensure his strength didn’t cause damage, be it a mug or Dum-E.
But wanting to give Steve everything, and actually doing it, were vastly different concepts. Tony had been down this path before with Ty, and had come out the other side even more broken than he’d started. And while he logically knew Steve would never abuse his trust, he also knew Steve would put Tony’s desires above his own, at his own detriment. And that would hurt them both even more.
Tony vowed to keep his distance, but him and Steve were like magnets, always drawn to each other. Where they’d initially started with the same polarity, unable to get close to each other, somehow they’d twisted into a comfortable position, firstly orbiting each other but always fated to meet in the middle.
Thus, when Steve asked Tony one Wednesday morning, passing him his coffee and staring at him with such open affection in his eyes, if he would like to date him officially, Tony was unable to do anything but whisper “yes”.
It turned out Steve’s definition of officially dating Tony was much the same as their friendship had been. Their excursions remained fun and relaxed, but with additional layers. Steve would now hold Tony’s hand under the table or in the darkness of a movie theatre. They’d sit cuddled together on the sofa at team movie nights. Steve would ask before kissing him.
It was so perfectly innocent and sweet that it was killing Tony. Steve had unknowingly given Tony a taste of everything he’d ever wanted; the romance, the affection and unconditional love, the care and softness. And Tony had been weak, unable to resist the temptation and had gone along with it, knowing he was doomed to hurt them both and destroy his friendship with Steve and potentially the team. It made him sick, yet he couldn’t pull away. Just one more day.
Inevitably, the fateful night came a few months into their relationship. They’d had a romantic dinner in a secluded corner of Tony’s favourite Italian restaurant. Steve had been extra attentive to Tony, and sat with his legs bracketing one of Tony’s own in a possessive gesture that warmed Tony’s cheeks.
When they got back to the tower, and Steve asked Tony to join him in his suite, Tony found himself unable to say no. He’d known this was coming. He was frankly shocked it had taken this long. He never could say no to Steve. So if this would be their last evening together, he was going to make it the best Steve could ever know before everything went to shit.
Tony took the lead. Like turning on a light switch, he shifted into his playboy persona and exuded confidence. He led Steve to the bedroom, lavished all his attention on him, used every trick he knew to have Steve writhing and moaning in pleasure. Steve came twice, before he reached towards Tony. “Let me?” he whispered, gesturing to where Tony’s crotch was hidden awkwardly by the covers.
Again, Tony couldn’t say no, despite feeling as though he was watching a car crash unfolding before him. Regardless of the state of his brain, his body was on board with the evening’s entertainment and it didn’t take Steve long to push him to climax.
Afterwards, sweating and panting, Steve rolled over and looked into Tony’s eyes. “I know this might be too soon for you to hear, and I don’t expect to hear it back. But I need you to know. I love you, Tony Stark. You’re everything I need in this life, and I’m so grateful you let me share in yours.”
Tony couldn’t hide the hitch in his breath as he tried to reply. “Oh Steve…”
Steve shook his head. “I told you, you don’t need to reply. It’s okay, Tony. I just need you to know how special you are.” Steve kissed him gently, and drifted off to sleep.
Tony lay in the darkness, head spinning and frozen in place. He didn’t know what to do. He felt shocked, that Steve would ever say such things about him. Appalled, that he was lying to Steve when Steve had been nothing but kind and genuine to him. Terrified, for what he knew would happen when Steve found out about him. But above all, he felt disgusted over what he’d just done. That one, at least, was a familiar feeling, and he knew how it would end. So he carefully extricated himself from Steve’s arm, checking Steve was still blissfully sleeping, before haphazardly pulling on his clothes and going back to his penthouse.
He barely reached the en-suite bathroom before he fell to his knees, grabbing wildly for the toilet as his stomach rebelled against him. He didn’t know how much time passed, only that the expensive Italian meal Steve had insisted on paying for was now thoroughly painted onto the porcelain.
Between his heaving and sobbing, he managed to grab a razor from the cupboard beneath the sink. The cool burn of the blade sinking into his flesh calmed him slightly, allowing him a short reprieve to slump against the cool tiles of the wall and try to slow his breathing.
Time warps weirdly in a bathroom at night. He hadn’t turned the lights on when he staggered in, but JARVIS had activated the dim glow of the nightlights and the blood dripping from his arm looked near-black in the night. At some point, Tony had shifted from sitting against the wall to lying on the floor, head close to the toilet lest his stomach revolted again. Tears leaked sporadically from his eyes, as he panicked and calmed in succession, sometimes wielding the razor still clutched in his left hand, and other times scratching his body with the animalistic need to remove the disgust.
Slowly, function returned to his brain. He stood, dropping the razor and stepping into the shower. Logically, he knew he wasn’t reacting correctly, and despite feeling he was now in control, a small part of his brain was screaming at him from behind a barrier that it’s a façade and he needed to get help NOW. But logic has no place in a breakdown, and Tony turned his shower up as hot as he could stand it, and then slightly higher.
The burn of the water, excruciating on his open wounds, brought a state of haze to his head that usually only alcohol could achieve. Slowly, his body working on autopilot, Tony cleaned his body vigorously and removed the evidence of the activities he and Steve participated in. Finally clean, he sat down under the beating spray, and allowed his mind to wander.
If he were normal, he could have a happy, even eager, consenting sexual relationship with his boyfriend. If he weren’t so broken, he could at the very least give Steve what he deserved and stick around afterwards to help Steve clean up. Share some post-coital kisses and snuggles, sleep together peacefully and comfortably. If only he weren’t such a failure, so useless and twisted that even his own Father couldn’t stand him. The tears started again, and Tony stuck his finger deep into one of his forearm wounds to stop the self-pity train from picking up speed. This wasn’t about him and his broken brain, it should be about Steve and what he deserves.
Why can’t he just like it? Everyone else does. It’s a natural human act, people do it to procreate but also for fun, to learn their partners and share with them their very soul. And here’s Tony, who kisses Steve while thinking of how he can adjust the latest StarkPhone, who hoped beyond hope that their relationship would never exceed platonic. He loves calling Steve his boyfriend; it implies that level of connection he’s always desired, but he deplores the feelings of guilt and disgust that wrack his body after something as simple as sex.
In the past, he’s been able to hold it together better than this. Focusing on bringing his partner pleasure, he’s become an expert in diversion and gained a reputation for being an attentive and intense bed-partner. When the focus does shift to him, his body will usually physically comply. If not, he can blame the alcohol. He leaves as soon as his partner is asleep, to throw up and spiral for a few hours. This is the only concession he allows himself to his broken nature.
But it’s different with Steve. Why is it so different? The usual feelings of disgust are present, but overlapping them is an intense fear, disappointment and overwhelming sadness and grief for what he has lost. He wants so badly to be normal for Steve.
He loses track of time again. He’s brought back to the present by a firm knocking on the bathroom door. He blinks blearily at the closed door, confused and aching, wrung out and empty.
“Tony? Tony, are you okay? Can I come in?”
Vaguely Tony recognises Steve’s voice. This must be it, then. Steve’s come to tell him they’re done, that Tony can’t fulfil his very valid needs and he regrets what he said earlier.
“Tony? JARVIS said you’ve been in the shower for over an hour. Please, let me come in?” Steve sounds… pained? Scared? Maybe he’s worried how Tony will take the breakup.
“Tony, I’m coming in.” And that’s his Captain America voice. Tony’s definitely in trouble now. But he can’t bring himself to move. Somewhere in his head he registers that he’s curled up against the wall of the shower, the scalding water beating down on his shoulders as he stared blurrily at the door.
A Steve-shaped lump rushes towards him. “Tony? Tony, are you okay? You’re burnt – is this blood? Oh my god, Tony, come here,” and Steve reaches into the shower switching it off and carefully cradling one of Tony’s abused arms in his hands. Tony can see tears forming at the edge of Steve’s eyes. That’s not right. Steve shouldn’t be sad, not for him.
“Steve,” he chokes out, throat raw and dry.
Steve’s head whips up from where he was inspecting Tony’s arms, gently releasing him and cupping Tony’s face instead. “Tony, sweetheart, what happened?” And he’s so gentle, such a juxtaposition to his muscular frame, that Tony can’t help but begin crying harder. “Oh, Tony,” Steve croons, carefully climbing into the shower and wrapping an arm around Tony’s burnt shoulders to draw him closer. It only makes Tony cry even more.
Steve rocks them, humming a tune Tony doesn’t know, until Tony’s sobs have subsided and left him hiccupping for air. The silence is heavy, but Steve doesn’t approach the elephant in the room, instead asking Tony if he can dress his wounds. When Tony nods, Steve stands, drawing Tony with him and padding them both out into the bedroom. He gently sits Tony on the bed, the rougher material unexpected against Tony’s thighs until he realises Steve must’ve placed a towel on his bedsheet first, to prevent Tony’s silk sheets becoming wet and bloody. The tears begin to prickle at his eyes again. Steve is such a thoughtful boyfriend and Tony will miss him dearly.
Steve is kneeling before Tony now, gently cleaning the wounds and dressing them with care. Once he’s done with his arms, Steve rubs some cream into the blistering burns on Tony’s body, focusing on his shoulders where the damage is worst. He wants to tell Steve not to bother, that the care and attention is only prolonging the inevitable. But he’s so weak, and he can’t deny himself this one last comfort.
Once Steve is done, he helps Tony step into a pair of clean boxers and lies him down in his bed, wincing in sympathy as Tony hisses as the feeling of the sheets against his burns, and kissing him tenderly on the forehead. He steps away, and Tony’s stomach lurches in fear, thinking this is it. But Steve is only gone for a moment, before he returns in some dry clothes he’s found in Tony’s wardrobe and climbs into the bed next to Tony. Absently Tony thinks he’d usually find the sight of Steve squished into his clothes amusing, but right now all he can do is watch with heavy eyelids.
“Don’t run off this time, okay?” He whispers to Tony, covering him with a protective arm and humming the same tune from before.
Tony allows the tears to fall, nodding in response and giving in to the exhaustion wracking his abused body, he falls asleep.
Tony wakes slowly and painfully. He groans, the memories slowly returning to his brain causing him to freeze in mortification. Oh god, he’d had a full on breakdown. And Steve saw. Steve had come to end things and found him crying in his shower. He’d clearly felt too embarrassed to break up with him at that point, so he’d cared for Tony and was probably now planning ways to break up with him and have him kicked off the team for mental instability. Not like Tony could begrudge him that one.
“Hey,” Steve murmured from next to him, making Tony jump. “How are you feeling?”
“… Is that a serious question?” Tony replied, unsure how to proceed. Could he pass it off as a drunken escapade gone wrong?
“Tony. Look at me, please.”
Tony slowly turned over, meeting Steve’s gaze. Steve looked upset, yes, but concerned. Very concerned.
“Tony. I don’t know what happened, last night. Is this… was this because of what I said? Because if so, I’m so sorry Tony. I never would’ve told you how I felt if I knew it would trigger this. I don’t want to see you hurt,” Steve choked out, brows furrowing and eyes scrunching in pain.
“What?” Tony replied dumbly. “What you… said? Steve, no, this isn’t about you,” and Tony winced at how that sounded. “I mean, this is, shit, it’s me? All this? Is on me. None of this is your fault, I promise.”
“If it’s not what I said, then what? What caused you to do this to yourself, Tony?” The silence was deafening. “I don’t need you to tell me everything sweetheart, but just help me understand? I’m so scared for you.” Steve grabbed Tony’s hand tightly, and Tony could feel him shaking.
“Steve, I…” Tony was lost at sea. The last time he’d tried to have this conversation with a partner had led to years of mental and physical abuse. He knew Steve wouldn’t do that, but even so…
“Can I at least get Bruce to come see you?” Tony balked, and Steve quickly jumped in. “We don’t need to tell him everything, or if you want to tell him and not me, that’s also fine, I know you’re close. I just need to know you’ll be okay, physically at the very least. Then we can figure out how to stop this,” he tapped Tony’s head lightly, “from causing this,” and he gently swept his hand over Tony’s arm. “I’ll do whatever it takes Tony. If you don’t want me, that’s fine, I just need you to be okay.”
“I want you!” Tony blurted out, panicking. “I, uh, I want you,” he repeated quietly, staring determinedly at Steve’s left shoulder. “But I can’t have you. I’m too broken. You deserve better.”
Steve abruptly sat up, and glared down at him. “I deserve better? Better than the amazing, wonderful, kind man lying in bed with me? Better than the guy who carries stickers for kids in his suit, who anonymously donates 70% of his personal earnings to charities, and funds the Avengers with the rest? The guy who sits up with me when I have nightmares, who brings me upgrades to keep me safe, who shows me how to navigate new technology with the patience of a saint? The one who treats his creations as his own children and does a far better job than it seems Howard did with his real kid,” Steve scowls. “If I deserve better than that, I’ll never find it. I’ll be alone forever if the bar is set above you Tony, because you’re everything I ever needed. So many times I’ve thought over the past few months, what did I do to deserve this wonderful man? How blessed am I, to have lived to get to know you so intimately? Tony. You are the one I want, as long as you’ll have me.”
Tony struggles to sit up, body aching, limbs weak and eyes blurry. Steve is still staring at him with determination, awaiting a response. Tony doesn’t know what to do. “Steve. I, you’re everything I wanted, too. But this, this can’t work. You want to know why I did this to myself? Why my arms are covered in healed scars that repulse me?” Steve stays quiet, waiting patiently. “I’m not joking when I say I’m broken, Steve. Not just this,” he gestured to his arc reactor, “but this,” and tapped his head. “Sex repulses me.” There, he finally said it. “I can’t give you the relationship you deserve, because I can’t handle what it does to me. What I do to myself afterwards. What my head makes me do.” Tony looks away. “And you deserve someone who can give you everything of themselves. To share every part of their being with you, without having to throw up afterwards. Without making you feel like you’ve done something wrong, when really it’s all me.” And Tony is truly crying now, tears streaming down his blotched face and he spares a brief thought for how ugly he must look.
“Okay.”
“What?” Tony looks up, surprised as Steve gets out of bed and walks around to kneel at Tony’s side. He reaches up and takes Tony’s hands.
“Okay. So sex is the problem. Thank you for telling me, I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, a soft smile on his face that Tony cannot comprehend.
“So, this, this is over, yeah?” Tony asks, looking for clarification so he can try to patch up his broken heart once again.
“No, I don’t think so,” And Steve’s tipping his head to one side again contemplatively. “You said you want to be with me, right?” Tony nods. “And I want to be with you. So we stay together,” he sums up, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Tony stares at him incredulously. “Steve, did you listen to a word I said? Sex makes me want to claw my own skin off. I mean, if you really wanna do this, I could do it sometimes you know, maybe with some advance warning so I can prepare and uh, maybe some alcohol-“
“No.”
“Wha-“
“No, Tony. I would never, ever force you to do something that causes you distress.”
“But I can’t expect you to just, abstain because I don’t want it. Would you wanna see other people? Or like, hire someone? Because if I’m being honest Steve, and I think that’s what we’re doing this morning apparently, I don’t think I could cope with that either. I- I love you. I love you so damn much, to see you with someone else while dating me would kill me. A clean break would be easier.”
“Okay, I’m going to forgive you because you’re clearly emotional and not in the best state of mind, but for a genius you’re pretty dumb sometimes,” Steve gave a wry smile. “I, Steve Rogers, would like to date you, Tony Stark, willingly, and without other partners, regardless of the lack of sexual relations between us. How’s that sound?”
“You can’t be serious Steve, I can’t force you to stop something you need just to sit around with me. I’m not going to magically change my mind one day, so if you’re waiting to see if I change you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
Steve sighed. “Tony. Your wellbeing and happiness is far more important to me than your body. Now, that’s not to say you don’t have a fantastic body, because you do. And while I’ll be abstaining from sexual relationships with anyone else, the same cannot be said for my hand,” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “But seeing you happy and loved? That’s more than enough for me. I promise, Tony. I love you so much, this isn’t a hardship for me.”
“… Really?”
“Really.”
And Steve opened his arms, gaining an armful of sobbing Tony as he rocked them both on the floor of Tony’s bedroom, humming softly and smiling. They’d be okay.
A while later, at a more reasonable hour of the morning, Tony finds himself nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet outside Bruce’s lab, while Steve is inside chatting. He knows Steve won’t betray him, and he’s promised to only tell Bruce the bare minimum. But Tony is nervous. Bruce is one of his best friends, his science bro and the only one who can keep up with his racing mind. If Bruce were to turn his back on him…
“Tony? Bruce says you can come in now, he’s just getting some stuff prepared to check your wounds.” Steve has stuck his head out of the door, reaching one hand towards Tony to draw him in. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine. He seems very understanding.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know,” Tony grumbled, being pulled gently into the lab and steered to a soft squishy chair that’s definitely seen better days. “Why is this in my tower? This is a health hazard, it’s literally stained,” sitting down despite his complaints.
“The chairs in your lab are in far worse condition than mine, you know,” Bruce replies mildly, placing a med bag on the table next to Tony. Tony flinches but covers it with a stretch. The look Bruce gives him tells him he was not successful.
“My lab is different, you try keeping things clean with Dum-E dropping oil all over them. Your lab is supposed to be a clean lab,” he mumbles, eyeing the bag warily.
“Yes, well, we all need comfort items don’t we?” Bruce pulls out some clean bandages and saline solution. “So Steve tells me you’ve had a bit of an episode?”
Tony snorts. “Episode, sure.” He reluctantly holds his arms out to Bruce to show the bandages more clearly.
“I cleaned them up, but I don’t know how serious they are really. I think a couple might need stitches,” Steve offered, hovering by Tony’s shoulder.
Tony grimaced; he fucking hated stitches. They’d inevitably get caught on his work and be torn out.
Bruce just hums and nods. “Mind if I remove these bandages then Tony? So I can see what we’re dealing with?”
Tony takes a deep breath. This is the point of no return. If he shows Bruce, Bruce will know how fucked up he is. He’ll want explanations and answers, probably recommend he’s put on a shit tonne of drugs to fuck with his head and take a break from work.
But Bruce is waiting patiently, sitting on a stool in front of Tony with a kind smile and understanding eyes. Tony realises, with sudden clarity, that if anyone can understand how he feels, it’s the guy who lives with an uncontrollable rage monster within him. It’s just that Tony’s monster is his own mind.
“Go ahead, Brucie-bear,” he exhales quickly, unable to tear his eyes away from his arms as Bruce slowly and gently begins to unwrap the bandages, revealing the physical proof of Tony’s instability.
Once Tony’s wounds are bared to the room, there’s a brief moment of silence, before Bruce starts examining the wounds, probing and cleaning and humming occasionally. The clinical manner of it weirdly relaxes Tony, and he allows some of the tension in his shoulders to release.
Steve is still stood behind him, carding a hand through Tony’s messy hair and humming softly.
“So, what’s the verdict Doc?” Tony quips, trying for light-hearted but not quite achieving it.
Bruce leans back and nods. “Steve’s done a good job at patching them up. I reckon this one,” he gestured to a particularly large incision that Tony vaguely remembers sticking his finger in, “would benefit from a few stitches. The rest should be okay as long as you keep them clean and covered until the scabs have formed. Sound good?”
“Ugh. Yeah. I always knew you were looking for a reason to stab me,” he gripes, smiling a little to show he’s joking.
“Ah Tony, if I wanted to stab you, I’ve had plenty of opportunities already,” Bruce replies mildly, and wow that is creepy.
Bruce applies the stitches, cleans everything up and re-bandages him, before turning to his shoulders and tutting. “These are some pretty nasty burns, but there’s not much we can do about them. I have some burn salve I want you to apply twice a day. Obviously, keep them clean and try to keep pressure off of them – so no getting into the suit until they’re healed,” he instructs sternly.
Tony is more surprised by that than anything. “You mean I can go back in my suit once they’re okay?” he clarified.
Bruce looks at him oddly. “Of course Tony. Iron Man is yours, as long as it’s not hurting you I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to pilot.”
“I just thought… nevermind.”
Steve sighed. “You thought we’d confiscate your suits and kick you off the team?” he questioned sadly.
Tony nodded, looking at the floor to avoid any awkward eye contact. He’s shocked when a hand reaches out and sits on his knee comfortingly, and meets Bruce’s eyes as he looks back up.
“Tony, of course we wouldn’t do that. If anything, taking your suits away would probably make you more of a danger to yourself. And Iron Man is an invaluable ally; you are an invaluable ally. Struggling with mental illness doesn’t disqualify you from this.”
Tony reared back. “Mental illness? It’s not- I just- I had a bad night okay? It won’t happen again.” He tried to explain, panicked. Steve moved his free hand to Tony’s shoulder, where he rubbed gentle circles into the abused skin with his thumb. Tony felt them share a look and scowled at his feet.
“Hey. Mental illness is not a weakness, Tony. It’s something many people struggle with, and asking for help does not make you worth less to us. We’re you’re friends and we are here to support you through the good and the bad. We care about you Tony, let us help,” Bruce implored.
“I know, okay? I know it’s not a weakness. I’d never call anyone else weak for it, it’s just…” Tony trailed off. He really did know it didn’t make him weak, didn’t make him any less of a human than anyone else who suffered. But when you’re brought up being told you’re both a genius and undeserving of your Father’s love, it’s pretty hard to tell your brain the opposite. He huffed.
“It’s just that it’s a weakness when it’s you, yeah?” Bruce finished for him. Tony nodded. “I know how it feels Tony. But I also know we can’t hold ourselves to a higher standard than we hold other people. It’s not fair on us. You deserve just as much understanding and care as any other person. I know it’s hard to believe. But we’ll tell you every day until it sinks into that head.”
Tony didn’t reply, didn’t know what to say. Steve moved around from behind him to kneel next to Bruce, in front of Tony. “Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled up at Tony. Briefly, Tony’s eyes flick to Bruce, but he’s still giving him the understanding look that is painful for him to stare at too long. He quickly looks back to Steve. “Hey. There you are.” He’s rubbing those circles into Tony’s knee now, and it feels nice. An anchor in the turbulent sea of his thoughts. “I love you,” Steve said seriously. “I love you more than I knew was possible. And regardless of whatever that huge brain of yours is telling you, I’m not going to change my mind. I want nothing more than to see you happy, and to get there you need to give us something to work with. You need to be open to accepting our help. Everyone on this team is more than willing to do anything for you Tony. And Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, JARVIS and your bots. We’re all here for you.”
Tears are streaming quietly down Tony’s face now as he looks into Steve’s eyes, searching desperately for any hint of a lie, any dishonesty or false promise. He finds none, and it feels like his chest is being crushed with the weight of the emotions inside of him.
“Steve’s right you know. All of us are here for you, and we want to help. You don’t need to tell me what triggered this Tony, but I can tell it’s not the first time it’s happened. Can you give me something to work with, so we can try to avoid it in the future?” Bruce questioned softly.
Tony looks to Steve again, and is met with an expression that tells him that anything he tells Bruce is okay with Steve. He’ll support any route Tony takes, as long as he’s willing to accept help.
“I don’t like sex,” he blurts out, cringing and clutching Steve’s hand. “I, uh, I don’t like it. At all. It makes me feel sick. Dirty.”
Bruce just nods. “Okay. And is that what triggered this tonight?” He looks to Steve.
“Yeah, we hadn’t slept together until tonight. And afterwards Tony went to his room and…” Steve gestured.
“I’m sorry,” Tony chokes out around his tears. “Please don’t hate me. It’s not you I swear, Steve, you’re perfect, I love you, I’m the broken one.”
“Hey.” Bruce cuts in angrily. “That’s not true Tony.”
Tony gasps slightly, looking up in panic. “Not true? It is, I promise, Steve didn’t do a thing wrong, it’s not his fault!” he blurts wildly, fearful that Steve will take the blame for his own stupid actions.
Bruce shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant Tony, I’m sorry. And to you Steve, I’m sorry if that’s what I implied.” Steve shakes his head and offers a smile. “No, what I meant is what you said about being broken. That’s not true.”
“But it is! I know I’m not normal, everyone likes sex. I’ve tried, oh god I’ve tried, but I can’t help how wrong it feels, how sick it makes me.”
“Tony, have you ever heard of asexuality?” Bruce asks.
“What? Like, plants and shit? I’m not a biologist, you know that,” he replies confused.
Bruce smiles. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d heard of it. No, not like plants. Asexuality is part of the sexual spectrum. Some people love sex, and they’re at one end of the spectrum. And on the other end of the scale are those who don’t feel sexual attraction – these people are asexual.”
Tony stares at Bruce, frowning as he tries to understand. “People? Like, plural?”
“Yep, plural. You’re not alone Tony, and you’re certainly not broken. You’re in the minority, yes, but you should already be used to that from your genius status. Asexuality is perfectly okay. You don’t need to force yourself to do things that hurt yourself, not for you nor for your partner. It’s okay to say no, Tony. You’re valid.”
Tony is mildly concerned he’s lost far too much water from his eyes in the past few hours. “I’m… not broken?” he questions again, in a small, tired voice.
“Nope, definitely not broken,” Bruce smiles at him again and stands up. “Trust me, I’m a scientist,” he adds with a wink, and Tony chokes out a watery laugh. “I think you should do some research into it yourself, but it’d be really good for you to figure out what you are and aren’t comfortable doing, and discussing it with Steve. Really think about what’s best for you, not for anyone else. You spend so much time being selfless, sometimes you forget to care for yourself.” Bruce chatters as he packs away his med supplies. “But, there is one thing I haven’t mentioned yet.” He stops in front of Tony. “I’m recommending you get on some medication.” He holds up a hand, cutting off Tony’s protests. “It may not be forever, and we can work to find something suitable for you. But I think it would really benefit you.”
“I don’t need meds, Bruce. I’m fine, it was just a blip.”
“What’s your problem with medication?” Bruce questioned.
“It makes my head slow.” He wrinkles his nose. “It makes me… not me. And I should be able to handle myself without relying on drugs.”
Bruce sighs. “Okay, firstly, if you’ve been on these types of drugs before they clearly weren’t the right type for you. That’s common, there’s so many different types and it could take a while to find the right one, but we can’t just give up when the first doesn’t work. I need you to be willing to try.”
Tony grumbles but doesn’t comment.”
“And secondly, do you think taking antidepressants makes you weak?”
“What?”
“Because I take them,” Bruce mentioned casually. “Do you think I’m weak?”
Tony’s head shot up, looking at Bruce in surprise. “Are you serious? You think I’d think you’re weak?” Tony asks, his brain firing quickly as he adapts to the new information. It makes sense, he realises suddenly; Bruce had admitted to a suicide attempt during Loki’s attack.
Bruce shrugs. “No, but I figured I’d check. My medication helps me feel more stable; it raises my baseline so I can make more rational decisions. It also allows my brain more space to focus on my work rather than the more negative emotions I had before. I’d definitely say it hasn’t negatively impacted my work. We just need to find the right drug for you that’ll do the same,” he implored.
“Can I think about it?” Tony asked. He was feeling too strung out, too frazzled and tired to make any big decisions. Bruce seemed to realise this, and nodded with a smile.
“Of course. You look like you could do with some more rest. I’d like you to come see me this evening so I can keep an eye on those wounds, but I think you’ll be just fine.”
Shakily, Tony stood up, gripping Steve’s solid arm for support. “Thanks, Bruce.” He whispered.
Bruce stepped forward and, in an unusual display of affection, enveloped Tony into a hug. “You can always talk to me Tony; I’ll never judge you.” He murmured into Tony’s ear. Tony nodded into his shoulder, inhaling the scent of tea and organic chemicals that lingered around Bruce.
Once they’d separated, Steve led Tony back to his penthouse.
Together, they sat and researched asexuality. Tony had to take a few breaks, unable to deal with the slew of emotions that came with finding his place. They delved deep, discovering Tony was a sex-repulsed asexual, but romantic. They set some boundaries, discussing what Tony was and wasn’t comfortable with, and even set a safe word that either of them could say if things were going too far, although Steve was determined to never make Tony need to say it.
Afterwards, they sat on the sofa cuddling with a movie on, while Tony texted Rhodey and Pepper to update them on his life and his newfound sexuality. They were both undoubtedly ecstatic for him, and Tony had to close the group chat more than once to bury his face into Steve’s chest while the emotions wracked his body.
Tony knew the future wasn’t going to be easy. They’d decided together that Tony would try the antidepressants, with Steve’s full support throughout whatever it caused. Steve assured Tony that their relationship was enough for him. So yes, the future wouldn’t be easy. But there was light on the horizon, and hand in hand they would reach it.