steadfast_tin_soldiers

His cup runneth over, as it were. Just a little bit; not so much that he can't mop up the spill. Steve has so many down moments, caught in the undertow of trauma and stress and depression, that when he has an up moment, he gets a little giddy with it. Like he'd forgotten for a while, how good it feels to feel good. He drinks one rum and coke, for the sake of appearance, but after that he mostly drinks juice, which clearly makes the bartenders want to laugh a little. Still, he's pretty, he tips, and he's polite, so most of the staff has taken to him by the time they're done.

He makes a couple tactful attempts to curb Tony's drinking today, but he doesn't want to pick a fight, either, so they take the form of ordering him food and bringing him bottled water more often than not.

Once the money starts rolling in--and there's plenty, by the end of it, somewhere in the range of an annual salary for an average joe--Steve is ready to cut and run. He has no argument with Tony's vehicle of choice, although he does have to pause and ask if red is his favorite color. It seems likely, given his aesthetic choices. Obviously, Steve's is blue.

"I'm pretty sure the other Tony will make sure I don't have all that much fun," he tells him wryly. "You really have gotten less abrasive. Not that I have room to criticize."

Steve's brand of irritating tends to be preachy rather than sardonic, but he does talk too much.

"You be careful," he tells him, nudging their foreheads together gently, the next closest thing to a kiss. "Don't get in any trouble without me."

He retreats with a last sober, fond look, and heads for the Stark Tower entrance. He's not sure what to expect at this point, actually; whether he'll be met or ignored at first. Security is mostly automated, he assumes, although he's met Happy before in their own timeline and is on reasonably good terms. He finds the lobby empty, which is not a shock since it's after five, but he has to assume there are a dozen different cameras on him. He stands still for a moment, looking around, giving JARVIS a chance to get a good read on his identity, then touches the intercom button.

"I'd, uh, like to speak to Tony Stark," he says awkwardly. "It's Steve--it's...Captain America." Sigh. "Steve Rogers."

Though the lobby was indeed deserted, the state of it would give Steve an idea as to why. No one had quite moved in yet, with finishes still being finalized and installed. There’s a dozen or so tech firms already fitting out office and research space and Stark’s East Coast division is nearly up and running, but the Tower hasn’t even been fully taken off the grid yet. Drop clothes and string lighting decorate the not yet polished floors and the video screens above the built in reception desk are dark.

At least until a light blue sphere appears on several. That would be JARVIS, a visual representation of his billions of lines of partially self generated coding at least, and while it’s hard to tell the mood of a nebulous cloud of data, JARVIS seems pretty happy to see Steve.

“Mister Stark is currently occupied. Please leave the lobby promptly. Thank you,” JARVIS says, a bit more stiffly than Vision had learned over the last few years. The screens darken and several of the above lighting dims until it becomes obvious that Steve isn’t leaving.

There’s some silence after that. Likely, Tony and JARVIS are having a back and forth. The elevator to the far left of the security desk suddenly opens, revealing a more welcoming amber light than the bright whites previously shining down on Steve. Tony’s voice plays over the loud speaker system. “Okay, I’ll bite. Come up.”

It's funny, Steve knew the tower was under construction, but he didn't expect signs so prosaic as dropcloths and industrial lighting. Some small, illogical part of his brain was expecting everything to be sleek and futuristic, even if it wasn't complete yet. There's really no substitute for a good tarp, though, if people are going to be painting in your lobby.

Oh, god. It hadn't occurred to him to brace himself to hear Vision's voice. Or--not Vision's voice, JARVIS's, but it's a mild shock nonetheless. And maybe Vision wasn't the closest friend he's lost of late, but he was still a friend, and they fought so goddamn hard for him, it hurts to be reminded. Hurts to hear JARVIS and realize if they go through with their plans, Vision will never even exist.

He's a little slow to respond to the AI, but as the screens go dim, he says, "Hey, JARVIS. I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

He stays patiently where he is after the lights go down. He's not going to make a fuss, certainly not about to get violent, but he's not going anywhere, either, waiting in the low light with quiet confidence that sooner or later he'll get the response he wants.

And he is proved correct! Without hesitation, he heads for the elevator, removing his hands from his pockets so anyone watching can see he's got nothing dangerous on him. "Thanks," he says, and if anything it might strike Tony as odd that a guy who just popped out of the ice a couple weeks ago is so easily accepting of the technology around him. "Sorry to stop by after hours. This won't wait."

“Well it’s going to have to. Don’t touch anything.” Tony isn’t there. He’s working on welding a reactor to the bottom of the inlet so that he can properly power the building, though Steve will have no way of knowing that he’s underwater. Or that JARVIS is measuring up scans taken of the blond with the documents and files his dad kept on the guy. You know, protecting assets and stuff. Technically, Steve sort of belongs to him. Howard had filed patents for everything in Project Rebirth, including Rogers’ blood. It had just been free for the taking, Tony imagined, and with the original statute of limitations on that being a hundred years, Tony might even get to pass on Captain America to his kids.

If he has any kids. Hard to say either way at this point. Legal’s taken care of some messy situations for him in the past. Pre-Pepper.

Speaking of, he’s really glad that she’s not here. If this guy is the real deal, and intel gleaned from SHIELD and search alerts tells him that the guy really is, independent of JARVIS’ conclusions on the matter, then he really doesn’t want her around.

“Sit down. Black sofa not the white one.” Tony can multitask better than most, and that includes working under the Hudson and having a conversation with a former ice cube. “DUM-E will get you something to drink as long as it’s water. We don’t trust him with anything that isn’t clear.” Maybe he’s showing off. Maybe he wants to freak Captain America out with a robot. Or maybe he’s just extremely used to DUM-E and doesn’t think about how weird it is for the machine to roll up to a dead guy on his couch and offer him water.

He can't help but laugh at that, which is probably not what Tony was expecting, but maybe it will work in Steve's favor. If he can get Tony to be interested in the information he's about to give him, that'd be good, absolutely. But the main point is distracting him so Steve's Tony can do whatever he needs to do without getting caught. It's more important that this Tony's attention be on Steve than it is that he like or trust him.

So he rolls with it, shaking his head. "I'm overwhelmed by your hospitality. Were you planning on eating or sleeping at any point, or are you going to just spend all night working?"

He'll sit on the couch, no argument, leaning heavily against the arm and resting his chin in his hand. And when DUM-E rolls up with a glass, he accepts it gingerly and pats the robot without awe or fear. "Is this channel secure? Any chance this conversation is being overheard or recorded?"

Tony’s silent, using his eyes to enlarge and zoom in on the scene that had been playing in the corner of his vision from the security cameras in the Tower. He doesn’t like this conversation. He knew he never was going to like this conversation, not when Steve was dead, not after knowing SHIELD found him, not ever, but it’s almost too tense now.

The arc reactor is going to have to wait. Tony shoots out of the water, around a passing ferry boat, and shoots towards the Tower, unaware that he has a familiar set of eyes on him. The other Tony, still leaning against the car hood, takes that as his cue to start a count in his head to fifteen minutes. It should take about that long for Steve to get Tony out of the Tower and that’s enough time for him to make his way over.

“So where did you learn that kind of language? Are you catching up on a hundred years of history by watching procedural television shows?” Tony asks as he jets towards the landing platform on the edge of the Tower and heads towards a machine he lovingly calls his valet. Audible T, just like the Brits. It will remove the armor from him so that he can join Rogers in his sunken living room, without even needing to worry about a secure connection. In fact, he’s speedy enough to continue his line of conversation in person, looking so much younger than the man Steve is sleeping with. But just as cocky. “All of my lines are secure. SHIELD know that their pet is off leash? Or are there agents skulking in my Tower? Coulson?”

JARVIS assures him that they’re alone but Tony still looks behind the bar.

"Sixty-seven years," he says. "Not a hundred. I'm a little more caught up than you think. Actually, I'm ahead of you."

That ought to either catch his interest or get his goat. Maybe both. And Steve chooses to leave it at that, until Tony makes his entrance.

There, that's the face he remembered. The one he wanted to punch at first sight. He didn't expect to feel the same impulse any longer, not now that he knows more about the man Tony is, and was, and will become, but--he surprises himself a little. It's not a rush of hostility he feels, but there's a powerful urge to wipe that cockiness away and replace it with something humbler. Is it just because it irritates him, or is it because he knows there are layers upon layers of vulnerability beneath, and he prefers Tony when some of those are laid bare?

"Nice to meet you, too," he says dryly. "First of all, I'm here alone. Second, I was never their pet, and Fury will be very disturbed if he hears about this conversation, and it'd be to both our advantages to make sure that doesn't happen. You wanna pat me down next? I don't have Coulson tucked in my pocket, promise."

That's not supposed to be innuendo, but once the words are out of his mouth, he realizes it sounds that way and takes a drink of his water in an effort to cover up the momentary awkwardness.

“I think I can manage to keep my hands to myself. Rewind will you? Ahead? Is this a short joke? I’m over average height. You’re just a yeti,” Tony snarks, mostly because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. One should never meet their heroes. Or their father’s obsessions. It doesn’t end well. Tony doesn’t immediately pour himself a drink, but he feels like he’s going to need to soon, so he stays where he is by the bar and leans a hip against it.

Tony doesn’t need foreplay here. Nor context, which amounts to the same sort of thing. He watches Steve with an understated intensity, lines forming on his forehead and around his lips as he tries to keep himself suspended in a casual sustain.

“I’m all for disturbing Fury, though. I owe him a little disturbance. But if you’re running away, there’s no room at this Inn, Captain. You’ll have to find somewhere else. Could suggest a circus. You’d make a good strong man.”

Here's where he has to start lying, and that's never been Steve's strength. All he can do is give away as little as he can, draw a few light, sketchy lines and let Tony fill in the rest of the picture for himself. He shakes his head and sets his empty glass carefully on the floor, standing. "I used to be 5'4". I don't do short jokes."

He doesn't go any closer, unwilling to look threatening, but his hands go back into his pockets. "I'm from the future," he tells him, expression going from wearily amused to deadly serious in a fraction of a second, those terribly, terribly blue eyes zeroing in on Tony's face. "In a couple days, you're going to meet the Steve Rogers that just popped out of the ice. There's a difference; you'll figure it out. But I've just seen the end of life as we know it, so I'm gonna need you to hear me out. I don't expect you to just accept everything I tell you as gospel. I know you better than that. Just pay as much attention to what I'm saying as you do to coming up with ways to insult me, okay?"

If Steve’s Tony has been listening in, and he isn’t this time because Tony already knows that Steve will win in a fight if it comes to that, especially with Stark’s current level of technology, he might believe that Steve’s lying skills aren’t even coming into play now. He’s mostly omitting, but he’s not saying anything false.

He could also have predicted his younger self’s reaction, which is an arched eyebrow and a smirk.

“Who put you up to this? Pepper? Is this Coulson’s newest way to break the I...oh. That joke is probably too soon. I know he’s been very excited about your updated costume. He scanned in hand drawn sketches. It’s cute. Or creepy. Depends on how you’re swinging I guess.”

This Tony hasn’t met implausible yet. He hasn’t lived through aliens trying to kill him yet. Just people.

Steve's M.O. in these situations is to open with a friendly overture, then appeal to practicality, and he's done both those things now. He sort of hoped one of them would work, but he probably should have known better. High stakes, the fate of the world in the balance, none of that matters if you don't believe the messenger bringing you the warning, at least a little bit.

(He doesn't think putting him up to troll Tony like this would be Coulson's style, but he does have to acknowledge it would be a pretty good prank, if it was. Also, goddamn it, Coulson drew sketches? He wants to see. He had no idea the man could draw--but there's no time now.)

So, okay. Nothing's gotten through yet, so no more Mister Nice Cap. He puts on a faint, superior smile and takes a few steps closer. "Okay. You better not tell Coulson what you did with all those Captain America trading cards you used to have. He'd be horrified. Did you have any input on the outfit? I hear you were really into the red boots."

He leans an elbow on the bar. "You told me yourself. Eight years from now."

Didn't he promise to try not to give this version any ideas? Whoops. Granted, the older Tony didn't explicitly tell Steve he used to jerk off to that one trading card--he just means Coulson would be horrified they were destroyed--but there's room for interpretation in that innuendo.

Well, bringing his sexual history in helped convince the younger Steve. Might as well try it here, too.

The smug smile on Tony’s face freezes, cracks just a little, and then is replaced with a smile that’s far less jovial. He’s not exactly sure what to do what that information. It’s not even remotely public knowledge. He’s never told anyone, not even black out drunk. He hasn’t even thought about it either since he was a too smart for his own good teenager imagining Captain America fucking chorus girls in nothing but red boots.

“I think Coulson and a younger me might have shared tastes,” Tony replies tightly, eyes narrowing, “so he probably would just be jealous that I had more trading cards than he did.” Tony doesn’t know that Coulson has the whole collection. In pristine condition. He hasn’t had to see the blood splattered on them yet.

Honestly, if this plan works, he never will. And that should be a relief to Steve.

“So you and me are besties in eight years, I develop a time machine and I send you back without any Quantum Leap references to warn me... about what? Skynet coming online?”

Wow, that was way more effective than Steve anticipated. He had so many other digs waiting in the wings, too, anticipating the need for a finishing blow. Well, they'll just keep waiting. He's not going to kick the guy now that he's down.

"Yeah...he's going to ask me to sign them, in a few days," Steve says, expression softening minutely.

"We handled the Technological Singularity just fine, don't worry about that. Just be nice to JARVIS," he tells him dryly. He gets the Terminator reference. Quantum Leap is a little more obscure and not something he's encountered yet. He'll ask the other Tony later. It'll give him a chance to roll his eyes and be superior and he probably needs the emotional boost.

Of course, Ultron won't be a problem if this plan works. They'll destroy the Mind Stone. Tony will have to develop technological crises on his own steam, then.

"Believe it or not, the problem is HYDRA," he tells him grimly. "Hear me out. In a couple days' time, SHIELD is going to call on you because the power source Red Skull used in the 40s, which your father dredged up from the ocean--and I'm still pissed off about that, by the way, but that's on him, not you--"

Maybe that will make him feel a little better about this, knowing that Howard is on Steve's shit list. "The cube. The Tesseract. Whatever you want to call it, it's going to be stolen from SHIELD. They want your help tracking the guy that stole it."

"The Steve Rogers from this time period will be there, too, and a handful of other people with a lot of talent and crushing personality disorders. It'll be fun; that's not the problem. The problem is SHIELD can't be fully trusted, because HYDRA's infiltrated it."

“You came from the future to warn me about an organization that was stamped out around the time you died is going to cause the end of the world.” He just wants to say that out loud. It’s the dust jacket summary, really, and that summary is incredibly ridiculous. Does Steve see it?

Tony is really not pleased by the connection his future self has with Rogers. That he would tell anyone about his tug rituals seems implausible at best. Rhodey doesn’t know about the teenage situation, nor should he. You don’t just offer that information up.

Not even Pepper knows and they have sex on as regular a basis as Tony can manage with his brain dragging him into the abyss at every waking second.

It bothers him. It really bothers him.

“Why are you telling me this? Tell Pocket Coulson. Tell yourself. I’m not an international spy for a questionable government agency.” Tony appreciates the shared distain for Howard here, but it’s not enough to instantly cause them to bond.

"HYDRA was crippled then, not killed," Steve says, and there's genuine regret in his voice this time. He can't see the ridiculous, because he's far too distracted by the idea that he failed to finish the job he swore to finish. If he hadn't gone down with that plane, maybe he could have stopped Zola's work. Kept the parasite from taking root.

Then again, if Peggy couldn't, maybe no one could. Still, he feels responsible, and these days there's a nasty little doubt in his brain, whispering that he went down with the Valkyrie because he wanted to. It's both true and a lie. His confidence wavers a little, gaze dropping. "I failed. Maybe...there wasn't any point in me dying, anyway. But I'm here now."

He shakes his head. "I'm telling you because you have the expertise to hack SHIELD's system and pull out information. What the hell is a guy recovering from freezer burn going to do in the face of that kind of technology? Write letters to the editor? At this time in my life, I'm a brawler, and a soldier, and an artist, and that's what I know. I'd get myself killed, alone, now. Given a few years to acclimate, sure, but we don't have a few years."

He looks up at Tony again. If what he's saying carries a one-two punch of sincerity, it's because he means it. Telling Stark about Thanos isn't happening; it's bad strategy. He's barely ready to believe this much. But Project Insight is a global threat, too, and Steve takes it personally. "I've got other work for the younger version of me. He and I are going to make sure the cube gets destroyed. And Coulson's a good man, one of the few you can really trust within SHIELD, but I don't see him accepting all this just on my say-so. Not right away."

"I'm counting on you being inquisitive enough to find out, whether you believe me or not." And that's the truth.

"Project Insight could kill tens of millions of innocent people. Just look into it."

Steve just says all the right things and Tony knows he’s not only being told the truth, but that the other man knows him. This isn’t surprising if he takes their friendship into consideration but he can’t imagine why they would have become friends. Tony had gone from jerking of to the pictures on his trading cards to genuinely hating the blond. It might not be for a good reason, it’s not like he’d ever met him, but having been compared to and bombarded with Steve enough in his life, Tony had fostered hatred through resentment.

Eight years might be long enough to repair that, of course, but that doesn’t explain why Steve knows intimate details about him. Maybe they’re friends, that’s cool, but holy shit, this sounds like so much more than a friendship.

“Oh. I’ll look into it.” He can’t help but move behind the bar and put two glasses on the polished wood. His dad told him Cap couldn’t get drunk but he drinks alone enough. Steve can at least appreciate the taste of fine, aged Scotch.

“So how am I in bed?” Tony asks, mostly looking for reaction to test his hypothesis. He might not rigorously follow the scientific method but sometimes it’s useful. There’s very few reasons Steve would know intimate details about him. Either he starts fucking Steve in the future or his Future Self died to send Steve back and decided this was the best information to use to gain his trust.

The latter is more plausible but he imagines men from the 40s would be homophobic enough to bark at his uncouthness or at least blush. He’s hoping for the blush.

Steve feels a huge sense of relief, which he has no right to feel just yet, because he still needs to try and get Tony out of the building, or at least way more distracted than he is right now. For a moment there, he forgot that the main point of talking to him today wasn't to get him to investigate SHIELD.

Unfortunately, Tony's very acute guess throws him off balance. The memories of lovemaking are very fresh in his mind, and his first time was only a couple nights ago, so naturally he turns a gratifying shade of pink, which seems to go all the way down his neck and vanish under his collar. Tony gets a brief glare for his trouble, which quickly softens and drops to the floor.

"Pretty demanding," he says. "Thorough. But surprisingly kind."

He clears his throat and straightens a little. "But don't go hitting on the younger version of me, if you know what's good for you. He's not ready, and I am in no way worth screwing up what you've got with Pepper for."

This revelation leads to so many more questions than Tony is actually willing or able to form into words at the moment. He looks at Steve as if he’s forgotten how to blink before he curses under his breath and pops open the bottle he’d been holding. They both get very liberal pours.

Why would he and Pepper ever break up? Certainly not for Captain America— The answer comes to him a moment later and he recaps the bottle and leaves it on the bar before grabbing his drink.

Steve is here to thwart an apocalypse. Pepper must have died.

And Tony’s absolutely an any port in a storm sort of guy. Or had been before Pepper straightened him out.

“Now I can at least die happy,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. He keeps looking up at Steve as if he expects him to start undressing. And that’s ridiculous. “So message received. Captain America spy work will commence immediately. I trust you can show yourself back to the future?”

Dammit. He shouldn't have given an honest answer. Too much information. Steve is not the greatest at spontaneous lies, though. Even if he'd tried to steer away from that question, his reaction would have given him away.

Tony's words say he's being dismissed, but there's a glass on the bar that was clearly intended for him when it was poured, even if Stark has changed his mind since. And Steve can't just go. So he picks it up and takes a surprisingly conservative sip of the contents. He still drinks like he's a 95 pound asthmatic more often than not, even if he could knock back a couple bottles and never feel it.

"Not much point going back to the future. I'm not even sure, if this works, whether I'll keep on existing? Might just crumble into..."

...dust. That was a bad place to let his mind go, and Tony gets a glimpse of color draining from his face before he downs the entire contents of the glass. Futilely.

"...anyway, don't worry if you don't see me again after this."

“Oh good.” Tony is deadpan. “You’re staying. Excellent. Future me promise you a bungalow somewhere? And aren’t you god’s gift to straight women? Did I turn you? I should get a medal.” Tony drinks a lot faster than Steve but he’s pretty much a fish. Pepper has managed to tame some of that out of him, but this is a special occasion.

One that makes him wish she was around so he could feel her up a little and get over this weird vibe of attraction he feels for those intense blue eyes looking at him.

Tony sinks a little into the couch opposite the one he’d initially told Steve to sit on. The white one. Not the black.

“Sorry about the mess in the future then. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you stick around to know me for a decade after this.” Maybe reassurance is all Steve needs to take a hike so he can see if Pepper would be willing to get some red boots?

"I'm not aware of being god's gift to anyone, thanks," Steve sets the glass down a little more heavily than he needs to. This is the first time he can recall that he's ever been grateful for Tony's ability to be selfish and insensitive if not motivated otherwise. He does not need to be questioned about the future, and the irritation helps him pull himself back into focus.

"But since you asked, I was pansexual before the word was coined. But that wasn't something we discussed in my day. Not in polite company."

He comes back around to sit on the black couch, even though he's more than ready to flee this conversation. "Listen, there's a couple other things you ought to know..."

He's fumbling for a hook, and abruptly he wonders if he should tell him that HYDRA was responsible for killing his parents. Like he should have told his Tony a long time ago. It would definitely be a massive distraction, but it would also be an emotional overload, and coming from a Steve Rogers he doesn't really know and already resents...

That wouldn't end well. And Steve doesn't much care if the man turns on him physically, but he can't afford to be kicked out just to assuage his guilty conscience. He made a mistake he cannot undo. He'll have to live with it.

"Fury isn't working with HYDRA. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are clean, too. Them and Coulson. But the corruption goes pretty high-up. I can't tell you with any certainty who is and isn't involved at this point. Be careful. No one's too high profile for them to kill."

With a bleary eyed expression, Tony half stares at Steve and half seems to be processing everything he’s said. There’s a lot to go over and his mind isn’t really clouded enough by alcohol to make it slow down enough so he can think properly. There’s too much of a jumble and he can’t help but wonder how many times Steve’s looked on a face that is exactly like his making the same expressions his is making and known all about the synapses firing behind his eyes. In Tony’s head, they’ve been together for a long time, not just a few days.

Looking at Steve now feels a little like looking at Pepper. The guy must really know him, and that’s comforting. The only trouble is that Pepper won’t be gone for too much longer and Tony really doesn’t want to lose the moment. Not when Steve has a lot to tell him. Tony is still battling his guilt and trying to atone for all of the lives he’s taken through the weapons he’s produced.

What better way to atone than to save the entire damned world?

“JARVIS, order from that place I like,” Tony says, pulling himself off of the couch to pour himself another drink.

“Burgers or pizza, sir?” JARVIS has obviously had to guess multiple times in the past.

“Pizza,” Tony says, already at the bar again. “The Captain and I are going out before Ms. Potts returns. I want the pie waiting for us.”

In a way, they have been together for a long time. Steve was always doing his best to read and interpret Tony's expressions, even when he thought they wanted as little to do with one another as possible. Now, all those memories are being reshuffled, refiled, re-interpreted with greater significance assigned to them all. Every breath, every flicker of dark eyelashes is vital, as long as they're one another's lifelines.

Not so with this younger Tony, but he's still comparing and compiling, if with less desperation. The weary look he's getting worries him. He doubts Tony's had enough liquor to get more than buzzed, unless he'd been day drinking before Steve showed up...

But suddenly, the older Tony's certainty that Steve was going to get dragged out for pizza proves well-founded. He wants to laugh, but curbs the reaction into a brief grin. "I'm not sure I understand your junk food obsession, Tony, but I gotta admit, your taste in pizza is second to none."

Tony is flashy, flashier in his younger days than he’d been the last time he’d brought Steve to Brooklyn. There’s no baseball cap and lifted cell phones are met with easily posed for selfies. Steve, for the moment, is ignored, cast in a shadow twice Tony’s height to dwarf the blond. Most people have forgotten Captain America enough to no longer know what he looks like. Tony is on magazine covers and the nightly news.

It’s extra cheese and birch beer again, and they’re back in that corner by the door to the office and stock room. People are giggling and texting around them, but Tony’s eyes are fixated on Steve, drinking him in and turning him over as if trying to decide what the best angle to bite into might be.

They’d spoken at length In the car about HYDRA, and JARVIS took down names and places to search while his human creator had pizza with a man more out of time than ever before. Now, Tony is less interested in work. You don’t work while you have pizza unless it involves watching TV too. The news keeps him informed of where he needs to go next, but it’s also entertaining.

“So I’ve been thinking that when I get closer to retirement, I’ll run for president. Is your me President?”

Steve is visibly tense under the onslaught of popularity, at first. He hates being recognized on the street, and while he does feel some warmth towards the people who truly believe in Captain America and what he stands for, he'd just as soon not run into any. It doesn't take him long to realize he's invisible next to Tony Stark, though. In a way, he's even more anonymous by his side than he would be alone, because no one notices a tall, handsome nobody next to a less-tall handsome somebody. It's almost liberating.

He does make sure to pull the brim of his hat down and angle his face away, though. He doesn't want to be in the background of any chance snapshots.

Tony's calculating, analytical gaze makes Steve feel slightly more vulnerable than he'd like, but it's a small price to pay for ice cold birch beer. Maybe it will feel satisfying to Tony to watch Steve genuinely enjoy his meal choice.

He blinks at the suggestion, then looks thoughtful, because politics is a long way out of his wheelhouse, but he wouldn't be surprised if his Tony has been involved in ways other than getting caught up in the Accords. He's going to ask later. "No...but honestly, we could do worse then President Tony Stark. I don't think you'd enjoy the process, but if you're serious and the world doesn't blow up, go for it. At least one of the two of me will vote for you."

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