cap_ironman | FIC: Golden Gloves

Golden Gloves ( 1641 words) by AnonEhouse
Rating: Gen
Warnings:None
Universe: MCU, AU
Genre: AU

Tony's health isn't all that good, but things look up when he acquires a blond, blue-eyed, physical therapist.

(Takes place in an Iron Man 2 movieverse where Tony was always gay.)

This is a fill for the Tiny Stony RB prompt Code Name: Golden

"I don't need it," Tony said. "I've got Happy and a perfectly adequate home gym."

Pepper just looked at Tony. Granted he was sitting there with ice bags taped to his shoulders, but that wasn't all that weird.

"I'll read up on it, do it myself."

Pepper continued to look.

"Nagging isn't an attractive quality in anyone, Pepper. Don't spoil your looks on my account." He was gay, but he wasn't blind.

"Phil Coulson recommended him."

"And that's supposed to make me want to entrust my delicate body to a stranger's hands?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." Pepper swatted fondly at Tony's hair. "Be nice. Let the physical therapist talk to you. At least he could give you some advice." She sighed. "Which you'll ignore."

"It's almost as if you know me." Tony grinned at her. "All right, all right. Just so Agent doesn't cry. I know how sensitive he is."

"Great! The therapist will be here in half an hour. You might want to take off the ice bags."

Pepper sailed out of the workshop before Tony could come up with a suitable response to her presumption in making the appointment before she'd won the argument. "Happy!" Tony stood up and peeled off the ice bags. "Let's spar!"

"Now?" Happy asked, looking up from where he was lovingly polishing the Rolls.

"Yep, right now!" Starks were made of iron, damn it. Tony didn't need coddling, and he sure didn't need a professional coddler.

A few rounds later Tony had to admit taking time out from picking over the Palladium Problem for a purely physical activity did make him feel clearer. He still ached all over, but he could blame the boxing for that. He heard Pepper's heels clacking across the floor, and backed away from Happy, waving his gloves. "Time, Happy." He picked up a water bottle filled with chlorophyll and secret ingredients and took a slug before he turned, intending to smugly point out how see? No PT needed.

But wow. The man standing next to Pepper, holding a gym bag and smiling a polite little smile... wow. His tank top was way too tight. Tony wasn't complaining at all. Tony took another gulp of chlorophyll.

"Tony, this is Roger Stevens," Pepper said.

"Uh huh," Tony replied intelligently as he took in Roger's neatly parted blond hair, plush pink lips, chiseled jaw and blue, blue, eyes; if Tony was a poet, he'd call them azure or some other romantic shit.

Roger's smile widened slightly, and Tony could swear his eyes held amusement. "I'm glad to see you box, Mr. Stark. Rock Steady Boxing is one of the therapies I thought might be useful for you."

"Uh huh," Tony said again, distracted because Roger was breathing. Oh, god, even before Afghanistan, Tony had never had chest expansion like that. Never dreamed a human body could look like that... well, without being one of those show pony body builders, and Roger moved too sweetly, too gracefully, for that. "Look, step into the church, keep Happy warmed up. I gotta talk to Pepper."

Happy looked a little disconcerted, but game.

Roger's forehead developed a cute little disapproving crinkle. "I'm a physical therapist, not a boxer, Mr. Stark."

"I'll go easy on you," Happy said.

Tony held up one of the ropes and raised his eyebrows. "Haven't got all day, Stevens."

Roger shrugged and put down his gym bag. "All right." He got into the ring and stood facing Happy, with his hands down at his sides as if he hadn't a clue what to do with them.

Tony sat next to Pepper near the boxing ring. "Roger Stevens, right." He glanced at Pepper's clipboard. "Star Therapy and Fitness." Well, that explained the big white star on Roger's deliciously tight shirt. Tony used the smart glass table to pull up information on Stevens. "Huh. Speaks French, German, and fluent Irish Gaelic. Who speaks Gaelic?"

Before Pepper could answer Tony continued on. "Oh, hey, he modeled for Gucci. Doesn't really look that interested in the woman in the ad. Don't you think so, Pepper?"

"Tony, we aren't going to need the sexual harassment lawsuit talk again, are we?"

Tony ignored that. He was busy saving images of Stevens looking sultry and well, like a truck-stop hooker. Tony had no idea what Steve had been doing when the photo was taken, but he was all for it. "You know, maybe a physical therapist is what's been missing in my life."

"Tony, the man could break you in two over his knee."

"If I'm lucky."

"OOF!" Happy grunted.

Tony and Pepper both looked up in time to see Stevens clock Happy with a scientifically precise uppercut and lay him out flat. They jumped up in unison. "Wow." Tony said, eyes wide.

"Sorry about that," Stevens said. He bent down to pull Happy into a sitting position. "Lucky shot?"

"Uh huh," Tony said. He looked at Pepper. "I want him."

"Therapy, Tony. Remember, this is therapy."

"Absolutely. This is physical therapy." Tony looked back at Stevens who was peering into Happy's eyes in a strictly professional manner. Yeah, but Happy wasn't as cute as Tony. There were surveys to prove it. "Physical."

Stevens was an oblivious ass. Tony flirted and flirted and flirted. "Do you do Pilates?" got him a blank stare. "Want to go a few rounds?" got him a lecture on how the therapy was non-contact boxing, and not a contest.

Tony was dying. Literally. All he wanted was a little, you know, mindless sex! Was that too much to ask? Apparently. The best he got was when he pulled one of his father's old chestnuts out and tried, "Want to fondue after?" and Stevens blushed bright pink.

Stevens wasn't that innocent. Nobody was that innocent. It was annoying. Stevens showed up precisely on time, patiently discussed the type of exercises Tony was to do and the proposed benefits and never, ever gave Tony a laugh for any of his jokes. "These are focus mitts," Steven said on their third appointment, kneeling in front of Tony with his hands encased in triangular padded mittens. "I want you to punch them as hard as you can."

Tony glared at him, and continued sitting on the inclined bench with his legs locked over the bar. Tony's arms ached. His whole body ached. His chest and neck in particular burned and itched, sweat acting as a further irritant to his inflamed skin. "Why should I?"

"Do it for America?" Stevens suggested. "Iron Man's a hero, isn't he?"

That burned even more than palladium. Iron Man was dying, stupidly dying of his own invention. He yanked off the shirts he had layered over his tank top to hide the black veins. "I'm going to punch you in your stupid patriotic face," he said harshly, and threw a wild punch.

Stevens caught his fist between both mitts. "Tony. My god, what is that?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." Tony tried to get up but Stevens was holding him tight, and his legs were tangled about the bar.

"Have you seen a doctor?"

Tony laughed in Stevens' face. "Yeah, no. It's not a medical problem. It's..." He tapped his chest. "Engineering. And there isn't a better engineer than me, not since my old man died. I'll fix it. Somehow. Or, you know. Not."

Stevens let him go. "You think Howard might have had an answer?" Stevens pulled off his mitts and reached into his ever present gym bag, coming up with a slender comm headset. He put it on while Tony gaped. "Tell Director Fury it's worse than we thought. We need to round up all of Howard Stark's files, everything SHIELD's got stashed away. All of it. Now, son." He took off the headset and tossed it back into the bag.

"What?" Tony asked, totally bewildered.

Stevens reached into the bag again, and brought out a capped hypodermic. "SHIELD's been keeping an eye on you. They were going to send someone else when we started getting hints that you were ill, but I insisted they send me."

"Why?" Tony eyed the hypodermic with suspicions.

"Because your father did me a good turn once, at the risk of his own life."

"When? When was this, he's been dead for twenty years. He didn't give a damn about his own kid, so I can't see him risking his neck for kid you."

"It was..." Stevens let out a deep breath. "It was a long, long time ago. Back in the war. He flew me behind enemy lines, so I could rescue my best friend. I'm ... Captain America."

Tony blinked. "What?"

"Steve Rogers. Your father helped with the Super Soldier process." Stevens... Steve... smiled. "He joked about fondue, too."

"That.. that's where I got it. He told... huh. He told Captain America it was just 'cheese and bread', because Cap was jealous about him trying to make time with Peggy Carter."

Steve's smiled flickered and then returned. "Peggy was a swell dame. We might even have got married." Then he continued, "Do you trust me?"

Tony thought about it. He studied Steve's face for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Yeah. You're Cap. I trust you."

"Let me give you this shot. They told me it would stabilize your condition for a while. It's not a cure, but ..."

"Give it to me," Tony said. He held out his arm. "Here?"

"Sure." Steve got an alcohol swab from his bag, and cleaned an area for the injection, and then gave Tony the shot, quickly, before he could change his mind. He rubbed Tony's arm soothingly. "You'll figure it out. I trust you, too." He looked into Tony's eyes, and moved his hand down to clasp Tony's, interlacing their fingers. "You'll do it for America?" He smiled, teasingly.

Tony tightened his grip. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."