Oh, God...

[shieldborne]

Infinity War Open Post






THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.

Drop me a prompt, or ask me to drop you a prompt. Open to doomy pre-IW foreshadowing, fix-it AUs, post-IW angst, character interactions that should have happened but didn't on-screen, crossovers, and whatever else anyone can come up with.

Comments

[shieldborne]

"Whip i--what??" If Tony gets any enjoyment out of seeing Steve completely blindsided and awkward, at least he'll get a couple seconds of pleasure in this conversation. Blushing, too. Lots of it.

He is, in fact, too startled to register the amount of liquor Tony has consumed thus far, and that could prove an issue before too much longer.

Unfortunately--or maybe fortunately--when Tony hastens to clarify, Steve doesn't look any less shocked. If anything, he goes from awkward to stricken, eyes too bright and too sad. "Jesus, Tony."

Truthfully, he doesn't think about that aspect of Tony's past, which is ridiculously naive of him. But of course it's there. That kind of thing, that kind of guilt never goes away, especially when it's been driven home to a man in such personal, painful ways, time after time after time. Maybe this is one of the wider gulfs between them, Steve thinks for the first time. His conscience isn't exactly clear, but the fights he's been in, the kill-count in his head, nearly all occurred in battle. Life or death. Them or him.

Not so much for Tony, if he's taking the weapons he designed into account.

"...somethin' like twelve or thirteen thousand, last I checked," he says softly after a heavy, silent moment. "Hard to estimate how many people are in bunkers when they blow up or on helicarriers when they crash into the Potomac."

"I should have realized you feel that way. I didn't even think about it." Worse, he doesn't really have a solid argument as to why Tony shouldn't feel that way, shouldn't still be doing his penance for the people his designs have hurt. All he's got is what's in his own head.

"I just...when I look at you, I see a guy who owns up to his mistakes and tries to correct them, and then is willing to give his life to help when other peoples' mistakes or outright malevolence come into play. Since I've known you, you've worked to leave the world better than you found it. We disagree on the methodology more often than not, but I have never, even in our worst moments, doubted your courage or your goodness."

[starkingenuity]

“Scrap the watercoloring drag act and be a motivational speaker,” Tony says, or at least that’s what he’s trying to say but it comes out as something like a few mumbles and several punctuated high points that might be words but are more like baby talk. He has to lean against the window sill to keep from tipping over and that makes him close his eyes and take a few breaths. “I’m sorry,” he continues, and it at least sounds like English. “I think you’ve got me…dunk.”

Why’s it so hard for people to pronounce the ‘r’ in drunk when they’re plastered? There’s probably some neurologist that can explain slurring somewhere in the world, but there aren’t any handy close by.

“You-- You and your—” Tony twists his wrist around as if any of this helps explains himself. “You. You-you. You-ness. I like your singing.”

And that’s about when room service shows up, forty minutes post phone call and approximately right on time to stop Tony’s compliments from getting messy.

[shieldborne]

Steve isn't sure what the first part of that was. He caught 'drag act' but none of the rest. Still, it sounds like it was meant to be a reasonably-friendly joke, so he gives Tony an uncertain little smile and continues to fret. Especially when, seconds later, Tony acknowledges how drunk he is and--

"Damnit. I should have cut you off." He wasn't paying attention, and occasionally he forgets how much alcohol is a normal amount for normal people. Ironic, though, how he was just saying a few minutes ago he wasn't paying enough attention to Tony's mood after a traumatic incident. He's going to have to do better.

"My what?" He starts to stand, hesitates because he's not sure it's okay, and then shocks himself utterly by feeling a near-desperate urge to kiss the other man. It's not the compliment--he's not sure how to take that, exactly--it's something about the moment of vulnerability. Tony's smart mouth failing him, his guilt and his grief and the strange, sad, tipsy glimmer in his eyes.

"Th-thanks..." He manages to stammer, and then there's a knock at the door and the crisis is averted. Sort of.

He gets up, moving away to answer for room service, but looking back anxiously. "Don't fall over, okay? Can you sit?"

[starkingenuity]

“Can you sit?” Tony asks in a way that makes utterly no sense, wrapping an arm around thick red curtains. There’s probably dust mites all over the darn thing, but alcohol has managed to dull the receptors in his brain enough not to register. The material is cool against his cheek and it’s helping him stay upright. That’s what the most important thing is.

The molecules break down in his system quickly. His tolerance is astronomical and he’s developed a little something to help with his liver regeneration. Technically, it’s also helped patch up some Avengers and give JARVIS’ technological corpse a body too, and those are both much more useful things…but one can never underestimate the power of a rich man using his money and influence to allow him to pursue his vices to their extreme.

He’s not much more clear eyed when Steve returns, wheeling in the cart laden with a variety of food smells that must clash to the overly sensitive nose, but he does spot the guy from the front desk downstairs lingering in the still-open doorway. “He’ll be right with you,” Tony manages to articulate, using the curtains to pick himself back up to his feet from the half-sit, half-lean on the sill that he had been doing. “Go tip the nice, flirty clerk before I throw up all over your shoes.”

He won’t. He’s not a puker. Lucky for Steve.

“I’ll just fall face first into the pizza.”

[shieldborne]

Dust mites? At this hotel? Dust mites can't afford the Four Seasons.

Steve eyes him uncertainly from across the room, still concerned, but since he seems to be on his feet he'll let it go for the moment. He has no idea what Tony ordered, but there's a lot of it, and it looks pretty good even with the clashing scents. He hasn't had a chance to be picky on the run as he's been, and pizza and tacos--even fancy tacos with cilantro pesto and mango salsa garnish or whatever that is--look really appealing. At the door, he tries not to look the desk clerk in the eye. There's no way it will have escaped the guy's notice that Steve is shaved and his hair has changed color, which doesn't quite fit the 'bodyguard' thing they established before, but it doesn't matter what he thinks as long as he doesn't identify Captain America.

Luckily, the clerk has a tablet for electronically adding tips to the credit card bill, because Steve is carrying about enough cash for a cup of coffee. Not Starbucks, either. McDonald's coffee. "Of course, sir," he says to Tony in the tone he thinks a professional bodyguard might say it. It comes out sounding half-military and half like JARVIS if he had a Brooklyn accent.

And when he goes back to the door, the clerk's gaze has intensified. Oops. That's a look of either recognition or 'I really should know who you are, give me a second to place you'. "Uh...are you...?" He begins softly.

Steve puts a finger to his lips and takes the tablet to add the tip, desperately hoping the hospitality industry's training in polite discretion towards guests' various quirks will hold out. "Thanks, though. If I were gonna be in town longer..."

He looks even more Captain America when he smiles sheepishly. The poor clerk is going to be confused for days.

[starkingenuity]

Watching the event unfold is almost sad. Tony props up his head a little, knowing he’s met his match this time with the alcohol consumption, and frowns stubbornly as the door is shut and Steve approaches him. He’s not upset about that, he’s going to need Steve’s help to get back to his feet and Stark reaches out to try and grip some large muscle or other for support.

“Boo. You don’t have to say no on my account. I’ve got this. I can feed myself.” Says the guy with Bambi legs. “If he’s not your type, then let me sober up a little and we can find someone who is.”

It’s a bad idea to leave the room tonight. It’s a bad idea to do anything to jeopardize tomorrow’s infiltration.

Tony can really use the sleep, too.

But it’s not in his nature to do the best thing. And it’s certainly not to stay still.

[shieldborne]

Steve's got plenty of large muscles he can get a hold of, and he puts his upper arm within easy reach. His expression still says he's worried, but he can't help but smile a little at Tony's determination to get him a date. Bucky used to do that, too.

"I didn't say no on your account, I said no on the universe's account. And we should stick together in any case, on the off chance one of our alternates shows up demanding to know what the hell's going on and why we have his face."

If that does happen, it's far more likely to be Tony's alternate. Steve was still adjusting to existence again at this point in time. "Anyway, it's not a type thing. I have a bunch of types. I just...don't want to get attached to anyone. I'd go out for a beer with the guy and then we'd either die or have to go somewhere else on the timeline and if I liked him at all, I'd be wondering what if forever. I don't need that. And I don't do one-night stands anymore."

[starkingenuity]

Wrist to elbow to shoulder, Tony climbs his way up Steve Rogers until he’s got a good enough grasp to get his knees locked under him. It’s been a long time since he drank this much, this fast. Things with Pepper had been good. He’d been more of a mentor to Peter. Rhodey needed him, and his genius, to be able to properly walk again. Things had been falling so neatly into stability, minus his sometimes regresses back to missing the Steve sized hole in his life, that Tony hadn't needed to resort to slowing down his brain to function.

It’s amazing what lack of stress will do to a person and what the sudden loss of everyone in his life might make him do instead. Tony is more than hurting. He’s heavily compensating with someone he had been unwilling to meet halfway for two years.

Steve’s right, though. They can’t form relationships here. They can’t risk it. And no one will ever understand what their lives are like save for each other.

And isn’t that weird? You can’t even count on yourself?

Tony’s about to dismiss it all, body turning more towards Steve’s chest in an attempt to actually turn even more towards his arm so he can have support when he bends over for a quick snatch of food, but Steve has to let his natural honesty sneak up at the worst time.

The shift in tone tells Tony to fixate on the word ‘anymore.’

“What have you been doing the last few years? Sex tourism? T’Challa was a bad influence on you!”

[shieldborne]

Steve has no objection to being Tony's furniture, apparently. He's afraid to touch much, to actively help him up, but he holds his stance obligingly and puts his free hand against his back lightly to steady him. He should sit. They should both sit, but short of manhandling him to a chair, Steve can't force the issue, so he'll just...

Just watch Tony being wobbly and vulnerable while pretending he's nothing of the kind. Why the hell is this so endearing? Drunks usually annoy Steve more than anything else, but as Tony turns toward him he's struck by an urge to kiss him for the second time in the last ten minutes.

Not gonna happen, of course. You don't take advantage of a friend who's intoxicated. Still, depending how close Tony gets to Steve's actual chest, he may be able to feel his heart rate pick up.

So the playful questioning hits Steve when he's already caught slightly off-balance, figuratively speaking, and he turns pink. "Hey, don't say that about T'Challa, he's a hell of a stand-up guy."

"I...look, I meant...I was involved in the theater, after all. Selling war bonds, and traveling with the USO. There were a lot of opportunities, and I didn't have a thing with Peggy yet at that point, and there was a real learning curve, dealing with this big a physical change."

He looks ashamed about this, not just embarrassed. "Stress, and hormones all over the place, I guess. You don't wanna hear the details."

[starkingenuity]

“We both know that’s a lie.” Fumbling sex with pretty USO girls? That sounds exactly what Tony wants to hear all about! He had the trading card with Captain America hoisting three girls in tight, short dresses up on a motorcycle well into his teenage years, and he can imagine the quad without clothes on getting busy pretty easily. It’s one of the few things that survived the great burning because Tony had used it for a little tugging once in awhile.

Years later, watching some Disney flick about a bookish girl and a dog-prince with Pepper, Tony had a few flash backs of those days in his bedroom with the door shut and some of his mother’s lotion. There’s a scene in that movie where the good looking guy in the tall knee boots that the bookish girl doesn’t like lifts triplet girls on a bench and he nearly had to excuse himself then and there.

Maybe the animators had been into those old 40s pinups same as he had.

Tony tips a little to the left, around Steve’s arm, and manages to grab a garlic knot. Not quite the pizza he’d been going for, but it briefly quiets him down as he chews. He should sit. He gets that. But he also needs to carb up so he can sober up. And Steve is the perfect buffet leaning post.

“If I was traveling the world, I’d get a little tail if I could— Oh wait. That’s how I spent my twenties. And thirties and.... uh. Well most of my life.”

He’s not admitting that he’s as old as he is. He doesn’t feel like he’s pushing fifty.

“Did you swap a lot of STDs? I thought your immune system is pretty good.”

[shieldborne]

For a moment, Steve thinks Tony's accusing him of lying about not sleeping around for the last couple years, and he's about to be offended. Then it clicks that he's actually just interested in gossip, and...well, of course he is. Come to think of it, any of Steve's friends would be, although most would stop him before he got into too much detail.

Not that he likes to get into too much detail. But it's not like he's ruining anyone's reputation at this point. They're all dead.

He shifts on his feet gingerly, physically comfortable but not sure about the turn this conversation is taking. "I, um...I'm immune to pretty much every identified human disease except the common cold. Maybe not the Zika virus. That hasn't been tested yet."

Frankly, he's highly resistant to the common cold, too.

"It's not like you're thinking, you know. I mean it probably isn't. I'm not sure what you're thinking. It wasn't glamorous nights in nice vintage hotels, anyway. It was more like suddenly having a body with no brakes. So I had to find ways to crash that wouldn't leave anyone injured. Like a runaway truck."

The particular stunt Tony's thinking about was one of the scariest goddamn things they asked Steve to do. The weight was nothing. The balancing act, and the awareness that three living, healthy human women were depending on him not to drop them? That was really hard to get over at first.

"But I couldn't risk getting anyone pregnant, either. Did you spend a lot of time on your knees backstage at community theaters eating out chorus girls in your twenties? Because that was the least of it, to be honest, but I know it's not what most people want to picture."

[starkingenuity]

The remains of the roll drop from Tony’s mouth like it had been choreographed and blocked out for comedic effect he’s got to admit that it’s nothing like he expected when Steve said he had been a bit of a promiscuous leading man while traveling with the USO.

Not at first. A second thought, however, clicks it all into place. Obviously, obviously Steve’s a giver. He’s probably the best lover a person could ever have since he would likely put his partners and their pleasures first.

“Can’t say I did,” Tony says, palming Steve’s chest so he can step back out of his arms. He’s not disgusted or anything, but it’s really hard to get another non-floor roll when he can’t reach. Of course, he’s immediately wobbly again, and he grasps the cart for stability.

A cart. On wheels.

Sometimes he’s not the brightest.

And sometimes it’s probably better if one or two of the desserts he ordered topples to the ground instead of himself. Still, RIP strawberry shortcake.

“Bet you jerked yourself off too so you wouldn’t risk giving them carpal tunnel. Technically you are still a virgin then? I feel better.” Says Mr. Wobbles.

[shieldborne]

Steve is poised to feel completely humiliated here, but Tony's reaction is so entertaining, some of the embarrassment drains away and--really, they're both grown men, they've both had awkward phases. Maybe it's time Steve was able to look back at this and laugh at himself a little. Or he could laugh at the poor garlic knot Tony's sent rolling across the floor.

His lips twitch, and he's about to tease, but then there's another perfectly good dish on the floor and Steve just can't stand back and watch Tony destroy dinner, the carpet, and a good portion of his dignity. "For fuck's sake. I'm sorry, but you need to put your ass in a chair."

Maybe the the fact that he's drunk will mean he won't panic this time? Steve puts an arm around his waist and more or less drags him to the nearest cushy arm chair, plopping him into it. "Stay. I'll bring the cart over."

"...I guess so. Technically. Not that that's your business." He grabs for the cart, managing not to knock anything off of it. "Depending how you define it."

[starkingenuity]

Steve doesn’t pose a threat right now, not when Tony is still got his mind half caught up in imagines of chorus girls with their thighs wrapped around his ears. It’s oddly endearing. Should something like that be endearing? Probably. Tony doesn’t imagine that there had been a lot of women that had experienced oral sex during the Second World War. Not in that sort of patriarchy. So good for Steve.

He’s still congratulating the then twenty year old when he’s lightly pressed into a chair and calls out demands for exactly what foods Steve should put on a plate for him, arms loose over his thighs.

Steve’s use of the word ‘technically’ is a little more amusing than stuffing his face right now, even in the effort to sober up. He really ought to ask for some of that coffee, but he’ll get to it. “There’s only one definition. Your penis has to go into someone between their legs or someone else’s penis has to go into you. Unless you’re a lesbian. By the way, you’re not. Lesbians... I don’t understand lesbians. But I appreciate their existence.”

[shieldborne]

Manhandling Tony into a chair is more fun than it ought to be. Steve tries to just focus on his relief that he hasn't upset him again, but it's hard when they're talking about food and sex in almost equal measures. Have they ever been this casual around one another? Even at group parties there's been a little distance between them.

He really doesn't want to encourage Tony to drink to excess, but Steve is reluctantly starting to enjoy himself.

He makes a show of looking grudging, but puts Tony's plate together as requested, with generous servings. He even uses utensils delicately, rather than his hands, which ought to be appreciated. "Intercrural doesn't count? I think your definition is too limited, and you're lucky I'm not a lesbian because I would be rolling my eyes into the next county after that commentary."

Oh, he gets what Tony means, and he is far from immune to the allure of watching two women canoodling, but he's pretty sure no actual lesbians want to hear that. "One of the girls threatened to bend me over a table and stick a prop pistol in me once, but I'm pretty sure she was joking. Fredolf would have had a fit--that was our stage manager. He played Hitler off and on for us, too. That's why the nickname--I don't think anyone would actually name their kid Fredolf."

He brings Tony the plate and sets it in his lap, then goes back to fill one for himself. "In the interest of getting one more aspect of your prurient interest out of the way while we're on topic, it wasn't just the girls. There were a couple good-looking stagehands, too, and a photographer in Des Moines, but we didn't talk about that kind of thing in the 40s."

"Anyway, it felt kind of hollow after a while."

[starkingenuity]

Use of utensils is a big positive to Tony’s already shifting review of who Steve Rogers, as a person, happens to be. Considerate now joins the list of kind and giving. He’d expected a lot from the guy, he’s Captain America after all even if he gave up the title and the sweet PSA deal, but this sort of raises the bar.

It makes him more human, too. And more relatable. He’s not the paragon of virtue. Under the costume, he’d just been a man.

The latest confession does get Steve quite the long look. ”That’s…amazing. I’m going to make so much money on your tell-all book. And all of those college kids in art class are going to feel so vindicated. For the record, did you leave the boots on with those stagehands?”

What? Steve going down on chorus girls and stagehands in just his boots is pretty damned hot.

[shieldborne]

"What, the bright red Tinkerbell boots?" Laughing, Steve sets his own full plate on the chair across from Tony's. He's gone for a little bit of pizza, and then for a lot of anything that looks sweet.

"Really, you're gonna fixate on those? You know what, they were the most comfortable shoes I ever wore until I came out of the ice. I left the boots on backstage, yeah. Photographer got us a private room, but I didn't get to stay long."

He can't just leave the shortcake on the floor, is the thing. He's not going to go borrow a carpet cleaner or anything, but his sense of responsibility is such that he has to make a cursory clean up attempt, so he picks up the wastebasket, tosses the dropped garlic knot into it, then grabs a handful of napkins and gets down on the floor to pick up the dessert.

On his knees. He's not thinking about how this reflects their current discussion. "Anyway, I'm not all that proud of myself in retrospect. It was an outlet, and no one got hurt."

[starkingenuity]

“It can be fun if it hurts a little, sometimes,” Tony says, watching Steve’s ass as he crawls around playing maid. Those jeans are just perfect, made specifically for him. Or maybe he’s just got the ideal body for jeans. Maybe anything looks good on him. Tony finds himself crossing his legs, both to balance his well stocked plate on his knee and to hide what alcohol is supposed to take care of, but never does when it comes to Tony. Sex is better on alcohol because he can focus better. It acts like a bouncer, keeping the constant stream of thought going around his head like a freight train at bay so he can enjoy himself.

Unfortunately, right now it’s laser focusing him in on what it might look like to have a freshly blond head in his lap.

“And you’ve got better control now. Hey, if you just like being a giver, more power to you. But I didn’t take you for someone with that kind of oral fixation. Still don’t believe it can be that enjoyable if all you’re not balls deep at some point.”

This is too casual. They’re talking about sex in ways that Tony never does. It’s obvious that he’s had lots and lots of sex, sure, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. Or shoot his load and tell.

Why Steve is being so open is beyond him. And he doesn’t care either. A little bit of sexy talk when you’re grieving helps. That’s why there are hotels next to graveyards.

[shieldborne]

"A little, or a lot?" Steve shoots him a look that's hard to read. "I did some of that, too."

That seems to be all he plans to say about that little bombshell, though, ducking back down to scrape up berries and whipped cream out from under the cart. Depositing the mess in the trash, he rises again easily and heads for the chair where he's left his plate.

"That's what I'm telling you, though, Tony. It wasn't about pleasure back then, it was about...maintaining my sanity." He sits and takes a thoughtful bite of pizza, then sighs internally because it isn't quite right. It's good, but it's not like it was when he was a kid and it was a poor man's food of choice in the summer.

"I had to have some kind of outlet. The experiment changed my entire physical structure and a pretty big chunk of my brain, too. There was no time to learn coping mechanisms. Maybe if I'd stayed in the lab like Phillips wanted me to, but somehow I don't think they'd have been focused on helping me adapt, just picking me apart to retroengineer the serum. I was kind of desperate."

"...not that they weren't all attractive, and most of 'em were sweet to me. Especially the guy in Des Moines. I just...it wasn't enough. Do you get what I mean?"

[starkingenuity]

There goes Tony’s personal little inappropriate thought bubble. Steve’s gone and gotten emotional on him and Tony isn’t in the right mindset for that. Besides, what Steve says about it not being enough? He gets it. He doesn’t mind saying that he does, even if it just puts this conversation safely out of the realm of plate-on-knee posturing. “I get what you mean,” he confirms, verbally. “It’s great and all, but missing the love. Took me most of my life to find it and the shitty part is that it was there for a long time, waiting for me. I missed a lot of years. And I missed a lot more years just dragging my feet. Stupid. It was stupid. And it’s over now and I can kick myself, but it’s not going to do any good.”

But Steve keeps putting up the little tidbits about the Guy in Des Moines which leads Tony to think he’s talking about the guy that features the heaviest in his sketchbooks, even the ones from after the war, the ones he left in his room at the compound, and not so much the gal he’d had plans to dance with at the end of the war.

Generally, Tony’s an ass sometimes just to be an ass, but this time, he’s an ass because he’s curious and he still doesn’t have that Other People’s Shoes mentality on his best days. Empathy isn’t something that had ever been instilled in him, but he’s gotten better than he had been the first time he and Steve met.

“Yours was Barnes. That’s why you did what you did. And why everyone else has been so empty.”

[shieldborne]

Steve takes a few bites of pizza, not looking back at Tony for the duration. He's got that thousand-yard stare again, except that it's focused on his plate which is not that far off. It's weird how quickly the pizza goes from tasting not-great-but-palatable to sawdust in his mouth. He nods silently, swallows, clears his throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was always Bucky, and he knew it by the end, but it's not that simple, either. It's possible to love a lot of people at once, Tony. I loved Peggy, too. If things had been different, maybe the three of us could have made something work; I don't know."

"I guess the trouble is if you love more than one person and then lose 'em all it tears you up even more."

He shakes his head hard to clear it, takes a breath, and sets the plate aside. "I'm sorry. About Pepper. I can't even tell you how sorry I am."

[starkingenuity]

“Kinky.” Probably not his best case scenario response but he’s just gone from thinking Steve Rogers is as pure as the mountain snow to finding out he’s slept around and is poly amorous. Or had the potential to be and would have been fine with it. He’d also rather be a jackass than have to talk about Pepper right now.

She’s out there. In fact, he knows just where she is and he could easily see her and talk to her and hold her. He could be a better man to her than this six years young Tony is. He could have her— But he won’t. It’s different. It wouldn’t be right.

And why deny himself something he needs?

This whole time travel thing is really dumb and he really hates it.

“We’re not the only people that lost our families. Shit happens. Shit’s been happening to people since we huddled around camp fires. It’s time to move on. We’re going to fix this so my other self can have Pepper. And we can spring Barnes from HYDRA and give him back to your other self. We’ve got six years of future in our heads and we can do a lot of good with that. And we’ve got to keep our eyes to ourselves. Find new people to deal with our shit, right? There’s got to be other people out there like your photographer from Des Moines and a blonde that can keep me in line.”

He’s over most of the stuff on his plate and so he makes a big, dramatic show of lifting it up slowly with both hands and stare at Rogers as he dumps the whole thing in the carpet. There’s tomato gravy and finger sandwiches all over the carpet at his feet.

They can die tomorrow. Or be puffed out of existence. And he’s got a blond right here that can keep him in line.

“Oops.”

At least he can get some eye candy.

[shieldborne]

Steve fails to see how a committed three-person relationship is any kinkier than strings of one-night stands. His brain doesn't work the same as everyone else's, though; he doesn't think or feel the way most people seem to.

And neither does Tony. He is brutally tactless, completely without shame. Maybe it's partly that he's still drunk and grieving, only...only, Steve's known him for long enough that he can't make himself believe that. It's just the way he is, unfiltered and goal-focused whether the goal is completing a project or coaxing a reaction out of Steve Rogers.

The thing is, he's succeeding. For a moment, some small part of Steve mourns that it has to be like this, that he can't have at least a taste of something softer and kinder. Men like them weren't made to be comforted, maybe. Iron Man. Captain fucking America. But tender or not, it's an offer he wants very much, not just to get him out of his own head, but to give Tony the same benefit. They have to keep each other sane a little longer.

His gaze drops to the floor at Tony's feet, then sweeps up again, and there's something predatory creeping into his body language. "You makin' fun of me, Tony?" he asks quietly. "Or is this your way of asking me for a blow job?"

He gets up and retrieves the wastebasket and a few more napkins. "Because either way, I'm pretty sure you're gonna regret it when you're sober."

He sinks easily down beside Tony's chair and hooks one arm over his knees, making sure he's not going anywhere before he starts picking up the meal debris with his other hand, piece by piece.

"Brakes are off," he says. "If you're playing chicken with me, you're about to lose."

[starkingenuity]

“Can’t it be both?” Tony hadn’t been asking for a blow job. He just wanted to watch Steve crawl around again, and maybe to make fun of the fact that he’d clean up when someone’s whole job is to clean up. He’d half expected an argument so that they could diffuse the old fashioned way, with a shouting match. Steve could have told him that making more work for the staff is unconscionable. Tony could have shot back that he always tips well anyway. But evidently what Steve had admitted to when it came to his early day promiscuity, to his need for relief when it comes to giving pleasure, hasn’t quite changed.

The look in those sharp blue eyes causes a twinge of need, burning and bright, in Tony’s stomach.

Maybe they both need it.

Sex doesn’t have to change anything. It’s never changed Tony.

That said, he doesn’t really want a blond head in his lap. Steve is nothing like Pepper. His shoulders and back, the shade of his hair and it’s cut would never allow Tony to mistake the two. But that’s not going to be enough.

Steve’s got to understand how important that can be.

“It’s not chicken unless there’s something you can swerve from,” he says, wishing there were a pair of red boots around in Steve’s size. “It should hurt. A little,” he says, dropping the plate he’d just spilled to free up his hands so that he can reach out and touch the fair blond locks on Steve’s head. It feels different now than they had when he was sober and trimming it. “I can’t hurt you.” Case proven by a sharp tug of that hair. “And I don’t want a blow job. No one regrets a blow job. Want to tick off some boxes? Strike out that ‘technicality’ on your virginity?”

Tony’s not serious.

Well maybe a little serious. His voice hasn’t dropped the way Steve’s has. Tony’s games are hard to figure out the rules to.

[shieldborne]

Maybe Steve jumped to conclusions thanks to his own conflicted feelings from the last hour or so. Maybe some part of him was thinking about it already (he has a guess what part that was). Still, he's not convinced Tony's completely innocent here, and one of them tipsy and the other one just shy of his breaking point might be a recipe for disaster.

"I'm not sure what you're telling me," he says, but then his body gives a weird little lurch when Tony puts his fingers in his hair, leaning into him aggressively as a shudder runs through his chest.

"Yes, you can," he contradicts the other man, eyes squeezing shut. "Real easy. Without even trying, I bet. Is that what you want? You want to hurt me? Go ahead."