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cap_ironman2009-12-22 10:56 pm
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2009-12-22 10:56 pm
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old_blueeyes!
Title: Perfect
Author:manic_intent
Universe: Ults
Rating: PG13
Warnings/Kinks/Spoilers: Spoilers for Ultimates up until and including Volume 3.
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Tony
Word Count: 3,719
A/N: Prompt from cap_ironman_fe, “Wrestling”.
Summary: Sparring sessions with Stark.
[A/N: Since this is an Ultimates fic, everyone will be making messed up comments about each other. Battered Women’s Syndrome is however a serious psychological and social problem.
Takes place from end Ultimates 3.]
Perfect
I
Steve always felt a little guilty sparring with Stark. Even when he was careful with his strength, even when it was obvious that Stark had, at some point in time, been professionally trained, even though he knew Stark didn’t like him pulling punches. Without the armor, Stark was only human, fragile, worse, he was terminally ill. These mutual training sessions were rare, and always initiated by Stark himself.
“Feels good to be out of the tank,” Stark rolled his shoulders, light on his feet, fists held defensively before his face.
“From that cylinder in the robot’s lab?” Pym’s robot, Steve wanted to say, but he swallowed the word.
Hank was back in the team, despite his deep-seated reservations, and he was at a loss. The man had tried to kill his own wife. Had assisted terrorists. Had, accidentally or not, created a robot that had been the cause of death of a teammate, that had imprisoned Stark in a cylinder without anyone else being the wiser.
Sometimes, Steve couldn’t understand women.
“No, I meant the board meeting,” Stark grinned, avoiding a jab and spinning to feint. “God, you’d think that since everyone knows I’m dying of cancer that they’d give me a break about stocks, appearances and director’s responsibilities.”
“Something is wrong with your company?” Steve had even less of an understanding of the corporate world than he had of women.
“Could say that. Ever since that stunt I pulled with Iron Man Six, Stark Industries has been inundated with lawsuits. Class action lawsuits, corporate murder, hell, even a patent infringement suit, you name it. Seriously. A patent infringement. Me.”
Stark blocked a punch, though he winced as Steve’s padded glove glanced sharply against his wrist. Stark continued to talk, oddly comfortable enough even in their practice to do so without any hint of distraction. “You win, you bleed legal fees. You lose, you bleed legal fees. It’s kind of a no-win, unless you’re my legal team, in which case it’s bloody champagne and roses every goddamn working day.”
“Sounds serious.” Steve dodged an uppercut and countered with an arcing punch; Stark rolled with it with barely a hiss, staggering back only for a moment before regaining his balance.
“Every big corporation has lawsuits,” Stark said dismissively, though something tight about his eyes told Steve that Iron Man wasn’t telling him everything. He never shared anything about the workings of his corporation with the team, confidentiality issues aside. Steve supposed that save for whether or not the money was coming in, nobody in the team really cared how.
“Speaking of lawsuits though, you and Jan-”
“What do we have to do with lawsuits?” Steve controlled the tight blip of anger that curled within him at the casual mention of Jan’s name.
“I’m funding the Ultimates privately, but everything I do is closely intertwined with the company, partly because of this fiddly concept known as ‘director’s duties’ that can put me in jail.” Stark danced away from an uppercut and slipped from a grab, light on his feet and surprisingly coordinated for all that the pallor of his face and the deep circles around his eyes spoke of recent habits of late nights and hard liquor. “If there’s a problem, or worse, if you’re thinking of leaving, I’ll like to know.”
“I was thinking of leaving,” Steve admitted slowly, feinting with a jab, then ducking to sweep out Stark’s legs. The billionaire rolled with the fall, then swore when Steve expertly pushed his face into the training mat and twisted his arm back, a knee into the small of his back pinning him fast.
“Jan’s got a… damn, this hurts… you know what ‘battered women’s syndrome’ is, don’t you?”
“No…?”
“It’s a type of post-traumatic stress,” Stark gingerly sat up when Steve released him, rubbing absently at his elbow. “It’s a learned helplessness. People who abuse their partners often ‘teach’ them dependency, cause low-self esteem; they know how to charm the poor suckers back. That’s why you’ll see a lot of abused women go back to their wife-beater scumbag husbands.”
“I don’t like it that Jan’s taken Hank back into the team. If anything, it’s bad publicity. You get these feminist lobby groups ringing me in the office and demonstrating in my lobby, telling me how it’s a bad precedent for women in her circumstances. Personally, however, I think she’s a grown woman. It’s her choice to make. And the worst thing that can happen to the team is if Captain America decides to leave.” Stark tilted his head as Steve sat back, frowning to himself. “You should stop me when I start to ramble.”
“No, you made sense.” Steve rocked back onto his haunches.
An ugly sort of sense. He didn’t like the situation at all, didn’t like the sheer illogic of Jan’s decision, but it had been hers to make. Either he swallowed it and tried to keep by her side, or dealt with it as an inevitable problem and moved on. He loved Jan, loved her fierce independence and loyal streak, but even Captain America had problems that he couldn’t solve, if the problems didn’t want to be solved.
“Why, thank you.”
“So what should I do?” Asking for Stark’s opinion felt… strange.
Before this, Steve had not had much of an opinion of Stark other than that the man was a capable teammate when in battle, and a drunken, womanizing one when out of it. He hadn’t approved, but he could understand the reasoning, understand the stress that Stark went through both in battle with them and out, juggling the pressures of his corporation and his responsibilities as a teammate, and Steve would not be one to begrudge a dying man his pleasures.
“You’re asking me for advice with a woman?” Stark hid the sudden flash of pain well, his handsome face settling into his usual smirk. “I don’t know. I’ll like you to stay. But I can understand it if you want to go. I mean, it’ll be a PR disaster, and I’ll be whining you the hell out before you leave and clinging on to your ankles, but I’ll understand.”
“I want to help Jan.”
“You want to help her get better, or you want to help her get back to when the both of you were joined at the hip?” Stark drawled, his dark eyes suddenly narrowed, sharp and cruelly frank. “She’s a smart woman, Steve. She knows what she wants.”
“You said she might have this… syndrome.”
“I said she has it, no ‘might’ about it at all. You can’t help her. I know a few good psychologists, but she’ll zap the fuck out of me if I even raise it, I can tell you. If she’s not smart enough to dig herself out of the cycle or know a good thing when she’s losing it… she’s a grown woman,” Stark shrugged, brutally honest. “In my experience, when women make up their minds, heaven and hell would have a bitch of a time getting it changed. Same time next week?”
“Same time what?” Steve asked blankly, still trying to absorb the conversation. A good thing when she’s losing it.
“This sparring thing. I think I have a free slot in between board meetings next week and after dealing with the mainlander Chinese I will probably need to let off some steam.”
“Sure.” Steve got to his feet, and hauled Stark to his. “What did you mean, a good thing? The team?”
“I meant you, Captain America,” Stark said, a little too brightly, clapping him roughly on the shoulder. “You’re the sole, not-fucked-up person on this team, hell, probably in this entire building, and if Jan can’t see that, maybe I really should take one for the team and slip her a list of numbers with her cereal. Be seeing you, Steve.”
Steve didn’t realize he was still gawping until a few minutes after he was already alone.
II
The conversation had sat uneasily on his mind for the whole week, culminating in his latest (and now habitual) fight with Jan, the night before, and as Stark went through his warm ups, his girlfriend’s angry last words still echoing in his mind, Steve said, quietly, “I’m as messed up as the rest of you.”
Stark paused in his stretches, long enough to shoot him an incredulous stare, then he shook his head. Long limbs uncurled as he touched his toes, then he twisted back, lithe and flexible. “Right.”
“I mean it. I have arguments with Jan all the time about it.”
“Right.” Stark rolled his eyes. “This is another thing you should have learned of women by now. However perfect you are, they will still nag. If they’re not nagging you, they’re probably fucking someone else on the side or trying to get at your money. Sometimes at the same time.”
“She said I was old fashioned.”
“I’ll like to see her get warped sixty years into the future. Next.”
“Next what?”
“Next complaint.” Stark balled up his fits. “Keep talking. I don’t like it when everyone’s gone quiet. It makes me feel as though I should be taking meds. Less meds.”
Steve always started with a feint, and Stark never fell for it. “I’m single-minded and never like allowing her to have her way.”
“Unless you’re a doormat, your woman will always say that of you. Next.”
“Uhh…” Steve pulled his punch just before it hit Stark’s block of raised fists, instinctively, “I always like going over to see my friends.”
“Same old, same old. She wants you to like her friends. Up until she wants to break up with you, of course, in which case you will be persona non grata. Does Jan even have friends outside of the Ultimates and her Scooby MIT geeks? Not that I have anything against an MIT geek, since, you know, pot calling kettle. Next.”
“You actually don’t like women, do you?” Steve had a sudden revelation.
“You mean, the ones I fuck? Let’s just say they’ve never given me a reason to trust them as a species,” Stark winked, then his smile faded, and the next punch hurt as it met Steve’s guard. “I mean, look at what all my times in the henhouse have brought me. My childhood guardian and friend is dead.”
“I’m sorry. I liked Jarvis.”
“Yeah.” Stark exhaled, dropping his fists for a moment. Steve didn’t take his opportunity. “You’re the only one other than Pepper who I can hear that from without immediately getting this urge to punch the person in the face. Not that you won’t dodge.”
“Really?”
“The usual ‘I’m sorry, I liked Dead Person Here’ sort of trite comfort? From you, I get like you mean every word. You genuinely liked him. You’re genuinely sorry. If you could, you’d do anything to get him back, even though you were never close to him. You’re not just saying it because you should be saying it.” Stark parried, circling, his gloves blocking his face.
“I’m sure anyone else who-”
“That’s the other thing about you,” Stark interrupted, wryly. “You think everyone else is like you. That’s a formula for being eternally disappointed, if you ask me.”
“I’m not perfect.” Steve managed a successful grapple, tackling Stark to the mat but rolling carefully to take the brunt of the impact, locking the slighter man’s arms behind him and ignoring the muttered curse and the struggling.
“You don’t get it,” Stark said, pitying. “Hope you never do. Let me up, how did you do that?”
“You were talking and got distracted?” Steve suggested dryly.
“Very funny. Let up.”
“Have you ever tried men?”
“Tried men what?” Stark’s answer was too quick, his shoulders abruptly tense.
“I mean, tried going out with men. Instead of women. Since you don’t like women. I don’t understand why you keep trying.”
“I think,” Stark said, after an awkward silence, as Steve released him, “I must have hit my head on the fall, because Captain America would never say that.”
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with men going out with men. Women with women. There’s worse things in life.” Steve didn’t add that he’d tried it before. It hadn’t worked out, he and the soldier, if only because he’d only been stationed in London briefly and in passing, but it hadn’t felt wrong, any more than much of this world did.
“Like Nazis?” Stark deadpanned.
Steve scowled. “I’m serious.”
“Well,” Stark’s smirk faded, and he continued to lie on the mats, folding his head under his arms, “The simple, most basic reason is I like fucking women. Right cog, easy peg. There.”
“You’ve never had any interest in companionship?”
“Look what happened to the last one.”
“The probability of you meeting another Russian spy who betrays you and-”
“You’ll never know in our line of work. The best thing I can hope for when I marry a woman is to make sure I have the best god-damn pre-nuptial a lawyer can draft, because there’s a ninety-nine per cent chance that she will divorce me within a year and try to make off with at least half my assets. More, if there’s a brat involved. That’s just how the world works now.” Stark said dismissively.
“So you’ve never considered it. Men, that is.”
“I’ve never met the right single guy?” Stark quipped, amused, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let me know when you dig someone up. A guy might even be better. That way, when we break up or when I die, we most probably won’t be married, and the capital gains tax or probate tax that bankrupted Leibovitz might dissuade the guy from making off with half my fortune, allowing me to continue to will it to a foundation that takes care of puppies.”
“You’re a cynical man.” Steve grinned, however, despite himself. Talking to Stark was usually entertaining.
“Admit it, you love how my brain works. What’s left of it, anyway. Same time next week?”
“Jan’s asked me to stop,” Steve said, finally. He’d been putting this off. “Last night. First she said it wasn’t good for you, that you’re sick, and then later, she just said you were a bad influence.”
“Both quite logical and true,” Stark said, with a bright, glossy smile, the same one plastered on the magazines, the empty shell. Steve knew better than most; Stark’s eyes were narrowed, wary. “Do you want to stop?”
“Me? No. No, I don’t.”
“But you will be.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“She’ll be on your case until you give in, Captain America or not.” Stark predicted. “I know women. And I am a bad influence.”
“You’re my only real friend on this team. Clint has always been a… well, we usually don’t see eye to eye, Logan is worse, and Thor doesn’t act remotely human any longer, him and his young lady. If…”
“Hey.” Stark’s smile faltered. “Don’t get emotional on me.”
“No,” Steve bowed his head, with a deep sigh. “All right. I told her no, anyway. I won’t be budging.”
“Hell hath no fury, Steve.” Steve nearly flinched when Stark put a warm hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
“What do you think that would do?”
“Make it worse,” Stark’s smile flicked quickly into a smirk, pure mischief. “I’m a born troublemaker. I might even enjoy it.”
“You mean, after she wipes the floor with your ass?”
“You are so cruel.”
III
After it all, after all the angry words and tears, Steve took himself, in civilian clothes, plus his sketchpad and a pencil, to the edge of the Hudson River to sketch. He hadn’t taken a phone or a pager on purpose, and was well into finishing half the book, the sun sinking slowly over the skyline, when Stark walked up to his bench and sat down, elbows on his knees, dressed as casually as Steve in jeans and a loose shirt. A pair of sunglasses was in the slow process of sliding down his nose.
“It’s all hell and high water in the Tower right now,” Stark remarked, when Steve finished another page.
“I saw it coming.”
“Money’s on Jan going back to Hank.”
“I saw that coming too.”
“Kind of like a train wreck in slow motion?”
Steve grit his teeth, but kept sketching. “Must you be here?”
“Well, it was either me, Peter, Logan, Clint or Thor, Peter chickened out, Logan doesn’t do counseling, and Thor wasn’t sure what was happening even after the second explanation. Apparently they don’t do counseling in Asgard either. And with Clint, well, what with what happened to his family, I didn’t think we could ask.”
“I don’t need counseling.”
“Sure you do. This is the guy talk, where I try to convince you as your friend that your ex was a bitch and you’re better off without her.”
Despite himself, Steve managed a weak grin. “All right.”
“You’ve always known she’d be back with Hank.”
“Yeah. She used to visit him. Even when he was at the Triskelion prison.” Steve shaded the outline of the shore, in easy, precise strokes, keeping them even, controlled. It helped him think. “I knew.”
“Next time you put serious moves on a married woman, make sure she first files for divorce.”
Steve exhaled loudly, with a sidelong glare. “Maybe I’d prefer it if it was Logan talking to me right now.”
Stark smirked, unrepentant. “Just so I know, are you going to quit?”
Steve paused, and looked up at Stark, his eyes hard. “No!”
“Good.” Stark exhaled, in what seemed like genuine relief. “Right now, I kind of like you more than Jan.”
“Because of the PR?”
“Because you’re the most decent person in that tower and fuck her if she can’t see it,” Stark sprawled back on the bench, hooking his arms over the back and looking up into the clouds. “I actually wish you were into guys.”
Steve’s pencil faltered and seared a long scar onto the sketch of the waters, as Stark laughed, a short, harsh bark, the amusement in his eyes fading quickly to something hardened, defensive. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I’ve got too much pride to be the rebound guy. Are you feeling better yet, or do I have to locate some beer?”
“I’m better.” Steve said flatly. He couldn’t handle humor right now. “Leave me alone. Please.”
Stark – to Steve’s surprise – actually hesitated, long fingers curling nervously together, then the billionaire sighed and pushed himself off the bench. “You know where to find me.”
IV
It was nearly two months before Steve ventured back to the sparring room. It was empty, and he felt the chill coil in his belly ease a little. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, other than that two months had done little to ease the hurt he felt whenever he saw Jan with Hank, no matter what he had said to Stark about knowing.
He had completed his usual warm up exercises when the doors slid open and Stark ambled into the room, dressed in a grease-stained shirt and jeans, barefoot. The startled expression fled quickly to amusement, then to distant wariness. “Steve.”
“No, don’t go.” Steve said, guessing at the root of Stark’s uneasiness. “I was… I was kinda hoping you would be here.”
Stark looked him over, quick and unreadable, then he nodded. “All right.”
He pulled only his first punch. Stark blinked when the second glanced off his block, and Steve hesitated, wondering if he’d gone too far, then Stark smiled, sharp and feral, and his next uppercut had the weight of his body behind it. Now they fought, twisting and snarling, almost bestial, until their mouths were bloody and Stark’s arms and bared shoulders spotted reddened marks that would purple in the morning. Steve was sure that he looked the same, both stretched on the mats, chests heaving, swallowing sweat and copper.
Stark edged long fingers around a bruise on his elbow, gingerly, and as Steve opened his mouth to apologize, the billionaire began to laugh, low and throaty and infectious; Steve settled for smiling sheepishly and rolling onto his side.
“On the other hand,” Stark said, when he caught his breath, “I think that shiner I put on your eye would probably last an hour, give or take super soldier serum magic.”
“I did more of a number on you,” Steve said dryly. “Do you need to see a-”
“Hah, no. You should see me some of the days once I get pried out of the armor.”
“I know,” Steve said, sober now, the silence turning uncomfortable, then Stark made as though to sit up.
“I guess I might as well start looking presentable for my board meeting-” the rest of his sentence cut off as Steve, acting on sheer impulse, rolled carefully on top of him, keeping him on the mats. Dark eyes widened, but Stark kept his hands on the ground. “Captain America.”
“It’s Steve,” Steve whispered, resting his forehead on the mat, beside Stark’s ear, and he wished, wished that he had never been fished out of the ice, never met the Ultimates, never had to live in a world that he still only partially understood. Fingers crept hesitantly up his ribs, then arms curled more confidently around him, their breathing syncing, slow and even.
“I think I want,” Stark murmured, as Steve’s breathing slowed further, edging towards sleep, “To be the rebound guy.”
Steve grinned against Stark’s shoulder. “What happened to pride?”
“Overrated.” Stark kept his voice casual, allowing Steve to joke and pull back if he wanted to. When Steve didn’t move, the tension in Stark’s shoulders eased a little. “That is, if you’re still looking.”
“What happens if I run away in a year with half your money?” Steve joked, edging up onto his elbows. Stark’s answering smirk came a minute too slow, as though expecting rejection; sheer impulse again, instinct, caused Steve to press close and seal the distance between their mouths, blood and sweat and Stark’s lips opening quickly beneath his.
[… didn’t manage smut. ;o hoped you like this anyway. It was sort of wandering on and on and I wasn’t sure whether to stop after just the first part, but I tried to get at least to PG13… ^^;;]
Author:
manic_intentUniverse: Ults
Rating: PG13
Warnings/Kinks/Spoilers: Spoilers for Ultimates up until and including Volume 3.
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Tony
Word Count: 3,719
A/N: Prompt from cap_ironman_fe, “Wrestling”.
Summary: Sparring sessions with Stark.
[A/N: Since this is an Ultimates fic, everyone will be making messed up comments about each other. Battered Women’s Syndrome is however a serious psychological and social problem.
Takes place from end Ultimates 3.]
Perfect
I
Steve always felt a little guilty sparring with Stark. Even when he was careful with his strength, even when it was obvious that Stark had, at some point in time, been professionally trained, even though he knew Stark didn’t like him pulling punches. Without the armor, Stark was only human, fragile, worse, he was terminally ill. These mutual training sessions were rare, and always initiated by Stark himself.
“Feels good to be out of the tank,” Stark rolled his shoulders, light on his feet, fists held defensively before his face.
“From that cylinder in the robot’s lab?” Pym’s robot, Steve wanted to say, but he swallowed the word.
Hank was back in the team, despite his deep-seated reservations, and he was at a loss. The man had tried to kill his own wife. Had assisted terrorists. Had, accidentally or not, created a robot that had been the cause of death of a teammate, that had imprisoned Stark in a cylinder without anyone else being the wiser.
Sometimes, Steve couldn’t understand women.
“No, I meant the board meeting,” Stark grinned, avoiding a jab and spinning to feint. “God, you’d think that since everyone knows I’m dying of cancer that they’d give me a break about stocks, appearances and director’s responsibilities.”
“Something is wrong with your company?” Steve had even less of an understanding of the corporate world than he had of women.
“Could say that. Ever since that stunt I pulled with Iron Man Six, Stark Industries has been inundated with lawsuits. Class action lawsuits, corporate murder, hell, even a patent infringement suit, you name it. Seriously. A patent infringement. Me.”
Stark blocked a punch, though he winced as Steve’s padded glove glanced sharply against his wrist. Stark continued to talk, oddly comfortable enough even in their practice to do so without any hint of distraction. “You win, you bleed legal fees. You lose, you bleed legal fees. It’s kind of a no-win, unless you’re my legal team, in which case it’s bloody champagne and roses every goddamn working day.”
“Sounds serious.” Steve dodged an uppercut and countered with an arcing punch; Stark rolled with it with barely a hiss, staggering back only for a moment before regaining his balance.
“Every big corporation has lawsuits,” Stark said dismissively, though something tight about his eyes told Steve that Iron Man wasn’t telling him everything. He never shared anything about the workings of his corporation with the team, confidentiality issues aside. Steve supposed that save for whether or not the money was coming in, nobody in the team really cared how.
“Speaking of lawsuits though, you and Jan-”
“What do we have to do with lawsuits?” Steve controlled the tight blip of anger that curled within him at the casual mention of Jan’s name.
“I’m funding the Ultimates privately, but everything I do is closely intertwined with the company, partly because of this fiddly concept known as ‘director’s duties’ that can put me in jail.” Stark danced away from an uppercut and slipped from a grab, light on his feet and surprisingly coordinated for all that the pallor of his face and the deep circles around his eyes spoke of recent habits of late nights and hard liquor. “If there’s a problem, or worse, if you’re thinking of leaving, I’ll like to know.”
“I was thinking of leaving,” Steve admitted slowly, feinting with a jab, then ducking to sweep out Stark’s legs. The billionaire rolled with the fall, then swore when Steve expertly pushed his face into the training mat and twisted his arm back, a knee into the small of his back pinning him fast.
“Jan’s got a… damn, this hurts… you know what ‘battered women’s syndrome’ is, don’t you?”
“No…?”
“It’s a type of post-traumatic stress,” Stark gingerly sat up when Steve released him, rubbing absently at his elbow. “It’s a learned helplessness. People who abuse their partners often ‘teach’ them dependency, cause low-self esteem; they know how to charm the poor suckers back. That’s why you’ll see a lot of abused women go back to their wife-beater scumbag husbands.”
“I don’t like it that Jan’s taken Hank back into the team. If anything, it’s bad publicity. You get these feminist lobby groups ringing me in the office and demonstrating in my lobby, telling me how it’s a bad precedent for women in her circumstances. Personally, however, I think she’s a grown woman. It’s her choice to make. And the worst thing that can happen to the team is if Captain America decides to leave.” Stark tilted his head as Steve sat back, frowning to himself. “You should stop me when I start to ramble.”
“No, you made sense.” Steve rocked back onto his haunches.
An ugly sort of sense. He didn’t like the situation at all, didn’t like the sheer illogic of Jan’s decision, but it had been hers to make. Either he swallowed it and tried to keep by her side, or dealt with it as an inevitable problem and moved on. He loved Jan, loved her fierce independence and loyal streak, but even Captain America had problems that he couldn’t solve, if the problems didn’t want to be solved.
“Why, thank you.”
“So what should I do?” Asking for Stark’s opinion felt… strange.
Before this, Steve had not had much of an opinion of Stark other than that the man was a capable teammate when in battle, and a drunken, womanizing one when out of it. He hadn’t approved, but he could understand the reasoning, understand the stress that Stark went through both in battle with them and out, juggling the pressures of his corporation and his responsibilities as a teammate, and Steve would not be one to begrudge a dying man his pleasures.
“You’re asking me for advice with a woman?” Stark hid the sudden flash of pain well, his handsome face settling into his usual smirk. “I don’t know. I’ll like you to stay. But I can understand it if you want to go. I mean, it’ll be a PR disaster, and I’ll be whining you the hell out before you leave and clinging on to your ankles, but I’ll understand.”
“I want to help Jan.”
“You want to help her get better, or you want to help her get back to when the both of you were joined at the hip?” Stark drawled, his dark eyes suddenly narrowed, sharp and cruelly frank. “She’s a smart woman, Steve. She knows what she wants.”
“You said she might have this… syndrome.”
“I said she has it, no ‘might’ about it at all. You can’t help her. I know a few good psychologists, but she’ll zap the fuck out of me if I even raise it, I can tell you. If she’s not smart enough to dig herself out of the cycle or know a good thing when she’s losing it… she’s a grown woman,” Stark shrugged, brutally honest. “In my experience, when women make up their minds, heaven and hell would have a bitch of a time getting it changed. Same time next week?”
“Same time what?” Steve asked blankly, still trying to absorb the conversation. A good thing when she’s losing it.
“This sparring thing. I think I have a free slot in between board meetings next week and after dealing with the mainlander Chinese I will probably need to let off some steam.”
“Sure.” Steve got to his feet, and hauled Stark to his. “What did you mean, a good thing? The team?”
“I meant you, Captain America,” Stark said, a little too brightly, clapping him roughly on the shoulder. “You’re the sole, not-fucked-up person on this team, hell, probably in this entire building, and if Jan can’t see that, maybe I really should take one for the team and slip her a list of numbers with her cereal. Be seeing you, Steve.”
Steve didn’t realize he was still gawping until a few minutes after he was already alone.
II
The conversation had sat uneasily on his mind for the whole week, culminating in his latest (and now habitual) fight with Jan, the night before, and as Stark went through his warm ups, his girlfriend’s angry last words still echoing in his mind, Steve said, quietly, “I’m as messed up as the rest of you.”
Stark paused in his stretches, long enough to shoot him an incredulous stare, then he shook his head. Long limbs uncurled as he touched his toes, then he twisted back, lithe and flexible. “Right.”
“I mean it. I have arguments with Jan all the time about it.”
“Right.” Stark rolled his eyes. “This is another thing you should have learned of women by now. However perfect you are, they will still nag. If they’re not nagging you, they’re probably fucking someone else on the side or trying to get at your money. Sometimes at the same time.”
“She said I was old fashioned.”
“I’ll like to see her get warped sixty years into the future. Next.”
“Next what?”
“Next complaint.” Stark balled up his fits. “Keep talking. I don’t like it when everyone’s gone quiet. It makes me feel as though I should be taking meds. Less meds.”
Steve always started with a feint, and Stark never fell for it. “I’m single-minded and never like allowing her to have her way.”
“Unless you’re a doormat, your woman will always say that of you. Next.”
“Uhh…” Steve pulled his punch just before it hit Stark’s block of raised fists, instinctively, “I always like going over to see my friends.”
“Same old, same old. She wants you to like her friends. Up until she wants to break up with you, of course, in which case you will be persona non grata. Does Jan even have friends outside of the Ultimates and her Scooby MIT geeks? Not that I have anything against an MIT geek, since, you know, pot calling kettle. Next.”
“You actually don’t like women, do you?” Steve had a sudden revelation.
“You mean, the ones I fuck? Let’s just say they’ve never given me a reason to trust them as a species,” Stark winked, then his smile faded, and the next punch hurt as it met Steve’s guard. “I mean, look at what all my times in the henhouse have brought me. My childhood guardian and friend is dead.”
“I’m sorry. I liked Jarvis.”
“Yeah.” Stark exhaled, dropping his fists for a moment. Steve didn’t take his opportunity. “You’re the only one other than Pepper who I can hear that from without immediately getting this urge to punch the person in the face. Not that you won’t dodge.”
“Really?”
“The usual ‘I’m sorry, I liked Dead Person Here’ sort of trite comfort? From you, I get like you mean every word. You genuinely liked him. You’re genuinely sorry. If you could, you’d do anything to get him back, even though you were never close to him. You’re not just saying it because you should be saying it.” Stark parried, circling, his gloves blocking his face.
“I’m sure anyone else who-”
“That’s the other thing about you,” Stark interrupted, wryly. “You think everyone else is like you. That’s a formula for being eternally disappointed, if you ask me.”
“I’m not perfect.” Steve managed a successful grapple, tackling Stark to the mat but rolling carefully to take the brunt of the impact, locking the slighter man’s arms behind him and ignoring the muttered curse and the struggling.
“You don’t get it,” Stark said, pitying. “Hope you never do. Let me up, how did you do that?”
“You were talking and got distracted?” Steve suggested dryly.
“Very funny. Let up.”
“Have you ever tried men?”
“Tried men what?” Stark’s answer was too quick, his shoulders abruptly tense.
“I mean, tried going out with men. Instead of women. Since you don’t like women. I don’t understand why you keep trying.”
“I think,” Stark said, after an awkward silence, as Steve released him, “I must have hit my head on the fall, because Captain America would never say that.”
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with men going out with men. Women with women. There’s worse things in life.” Steve didn’t add that he’d tried it before. It hadn’t worked out, he and the soldier, if only because he’d only been stationed in London briefly and in passing, but it hadn’t felt wrong, any more than much of this world did.
“Like Nazis?” Stark deadpanned.
Steve scowled. “I’m serious.”
“Well,” Stark’s smirk faded, and he continued to lie on the mats, folding his head under his arms, “The simple, most basic reason is I like fucking women. Right cog, easy peg. There.”
“You’ve never had any interest in companionship?”
“Look what happened to the last one.”
“The probability of you meeting another Russian spy who betrays you and-”
“You’ll never know in our line of work. The best thing I can hope for when I marry a woman is to make sure I have the best god-damn pre-nuptial a lawyer can draft, because there’s a ninety-nine per cent chance that she will divorce me within a year and try to make off with at least half my assets. More, if there’s a brat involved. That’s just how the world works now.” Stark said dismissively.
“So you’ve never considered it. Men, that is.”
“I’ve never met the right single guy?” Stark quipped, amused, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let me know when you dig someone up. A guy might even be better. That way, when we break up or when I die, we most probably won’t be married, and the capital gains tax or probate tax that bankrupted Leibovitz might dissuade the guy from making off with half my fortune, allowing me to continue to will it to a foundation that takes care of puppies.”
“You’re a cynical man.” Steve grinned, however, despite himself. Talking to Stark was usually entertaining.
“Admit it, you love how my brain works. What’s left of it, anyway. Same time next week?”
“Jan’s asked me to stop,” Steve said, finally. He’d been putting this off. “Last night. First she said it wasn’t good for you, that you’re sick, and then later, she just said you were a bad influence.”
“Both quite logical and true,” Stark said, with a bright, glossy smile, the same one plastered on the magazines, the empty shell. Steve knew better than most; Stark’s eyes were narrowed, wary. “Do you want to stop?”
“Me? No. No, I don’t.”
“But you will be.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“She’ll be on your case until you give in, Captain America or not.” Stark predicted. “I know women. And I am a bad influence.”
“You’re my only real friend on this team. Clint has always been a… well, we usually don’t see eye to eye, Logan is worse, and Thor doesn’t act remotely human any longer, him and his young lady. If…”
“Hey.” Stark’s smile faltered. “Don’t get emotional on me.”
“No,” Steve bowed his head, with a deep sigh. “All right. I told her no, anyway. I won’t be budging.”
“Hell hath no fury, Steve.” Steve nearly flinched when Stark put a warm hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
“What do you think that would do?”
“Make it worse,” Stark’s smile flicked quickly into a smirk, pure mischief. “I’m a born troublemaker. I might even enjoy it.”
“You mean, after she wipes the floor with your ass?”
“You are so cruel.”
III
After it all, after all the angry words and tears, Steve took himself, in civilian clothes, plus his sketchpad and a pencil, to the edge of the Hudson River to sketch. He hadn’t taken a phone or a pager on purpose, and was well into finishing half the book, the sun sinking slowly over the skyline, when Stark walked up to his bench and sat down, elbows on his knees, dressed as casually as Steve in jeans and a loose shirt. A pair of sunglasses was in the slow process of sliding down his nose.
“It’s all hell and high water in the Tower right now,” Stark remarked, when Steve finished another page.
“I saw it coming.”
“Money’s on Jan going back to Hank.”
“I saw that coming too.”
“Kind of like a train wreck in slow motion?”
Steve grit his teeth, but kept sketching. “Must you be here?”
“Well, it was either me, Peter, Logan, Clint or Thor, Peter chickened out, Logan doesn’t do counseling, and Thor wasn’t sure what was happening even after the second explanation. Apparently they don’t do counseling in Asgard either. And with Clint, well, what with what happened to his family, I didn’t think we could ask.”
“I don’t need counseling.”
“Sure you do. This is the guy talk, where I try to convince you as your friend that your ex was a bitch and you’re better off without her.”
Despite himself, Steve managed a weak grin. “All right.”
“You’ve always known she’d be back with Hank.”
“Yeah. She used to visit him. Even when he was at the Triskelion prison.” Steve shaded the outline of the shore, in easy, precise strokes, keeping them even, controlled. It helped him think. “I knew.”
“Next time you put serious moves on a married woman, make sure she first files for divorce.”
Steve exhaled loudly, with a sidelong glare. “Maybe I’d prefer it if it was Logan talking to me right now.”
Stark smirked, unrepentant. “Just so I know, are you going to quit?”
Steve paused, and looked up at Stark, his eyes hard. “No!”
“Good.” Stark exhaled, in what seemed like genuine relief. “Right now, I kind of like you more than Jan.”
“Because of the PR?”
“Because you’re the most decent person in that tower and fuck her if she can’t see it,” Stark sprawled back on the bench, hooking his arms over the back and looking up into the clouds. “I actually wish you were into guys.”
Steve’s pencil faltered and seared a long scar onto the sketch of the waters, as Stark laughed, a short, harsh bark, the amusement in his eyes fading quickly to something hardened, defensive. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I’ve got too much pride to be the rebound guy. Are you feeling better yet, or do I have to locate some beer?”
“I’m better.” Steve said flatly. He couldn’t handle humor right now. “Leave me alone. Please.”
Stark – to Steve’s surprise – actually hesitated, long fingers curling nervously together, then the billionaire sighed and pushed himself off the bench. “You know where to find me.”
IV
It was nearly two months before Steve ventured back to the sparring room. It was empty, and he felt the chill coil in his belly ease a little. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, other than that two months had done little to ease the hurt he felt whenever he saw Jan with Hank, no matter what he had said to Stark about knowing.
He had completed his usual warm up exercises when the doors slid open and Stark ambled into the room, dressed in a grease-stained shirt and jeans, barefoot. The startled expression fled quickly to amusement, then to distant wariness. “Steve.”
“No, don’t go.” Steve said, guessing at the root of Stark’s uneasiness. “I was… I was kinda hoping you would be here.”
Stark looked him over, quick and unreadable, then he nodded. “All right.”
He pulled only his first punch. Stark blinked when the second glanced off his block, and Steve hesitated, wondering if he’d gone too far, then Stark smiled, sharp and feral, and his next uppercut had the weight of his body behind it. Now they fought, twisting and snarling, almost bestial, until their mouths were bloody and Stark’s arms and bared shoulders spotted reddened marks that would purple in the morning. Steve was sure that he looked the same, both stretched on the mats, chests heaving, swallowing sweat and copper.
Stark edged long fingers around a bruise on his elbow, gingerly, and as Steve opened his mouth to apologize, the billionaire began to laugh, low and throaty and infectious; Steve settled for smiling sheepishly and rolling onto his side.
“On the other hand,” Stark said, when he caught his breath, “I think that shiner I put on your eye would probably last an hour, give or take super soldier serum magic.”
“I did more of a number on you,” Steve said dryly. “Do you need to see a-”
“Hah, no. You should see me some of the days once I get pried out of the armor.”
“I know,” Steve said, sober now, the silence turning uncomfortable, then Stark made as though to sit up.
“I guess I might as well start looking presentable for my board meeting-” the rest of his sentence cut off as Steve, acting on sheer impulse, rolled carefully on top of him, keeping him on the mats. Dark eyes widened, but Stark kept his hands on the ground. “Captain America.”
“It’s Steve,” Steve whispered, resting his forehead on the mat, beside Stark’s ear, and he wished, wished that he had never been fished out of the ice, never met the Ultimates, never had to live in a world that he still only partially understood. Fingers crept hesitantly up his ribs, then arms curled more confidently around him, their breathing syncing, slow and even.
“I think I want,” Stark murmured, as Steve’s breathing slowed further, edging towards sleep, “To be the rebound guy.”
Steve grinned against Stark’s shoulder. “What happened to pride?”
“Overrated.” Stark kept his voice casual, allowing Steve to joke and pull back if he wanted to. When Steve didn’t move, the tension in Stark’s shoulders eased a little. “That is, if you’re still looking.”
“What happens if I run away in a year with half your money?” Steve joked, edging up onto his elbows. Stark’s answering smirk came a minute too slow, as though expecting rejection; sheer impulse again, instinct, caused Steve to press close and seal the distance between their mouths, blood and sweat and Stark’s lips opening quickly beneath his.
[… didn’t manage smut. ;o hoped you like this anyway. It was sort of wandering on and on and I wasn’t sure whether to stop after just the first part, but I tried to get at least to PG13… ^^;;]
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And I liked at the end, where Steve was desperately wishing he wasn't there, even as he made the best of things - that's very Steve, always taking action even while he's hurting, maybe especially while he's hurting.