A Gift of Fic for silverfoxflower!

[muccamukk]

Title: We Accidentally A Relationship (3/3)
Recipient: silverfoxflower
Author/Artist: inukagome15



It was wet. That was the first thing Steve noticed. The second was that it was warm. The third was that Tony’s beard was scratching his skin.

Then came the thought – which probably should have come first – that oh, wow, he was kissing Tony Stark, his best friend. He was kissing Tony and not doing anything about it because he was paralyzed by shock and confusion.

That was all Steve managed to register before Tony pulled apart from him with a soft gasp, cheeks slightly flushed. There was a brief flash of emotion in his brown eyes that might have been panic before it vanished, and the public persona Tony Stark was standing before him, smiling suavely.

Between one breath and the next, Tony turned to move through the crowd that had watched their kiss. Unthinkingly, Steve followed. It would seem strange if he just stood there gaping while his supposed partner left him.

They ended up standing in the cold air on the balcony, Steve hovering uncertainly by the doors.

Tony spent a long moment just staring out over New York before he gave a large sigh and turned around, smiling. “Sorry about that back there, but mistletoe…” He waved a hand. “You know how it is.”

Steve walked forward to stand by Tony, blinking as the cold wind brought tears to his eyes. “It’s fine. I was just surprised.”

“Surprised” was putting it mildly considering he’d been absolutely stunned throughout the whole kiss. It could not have been pleasant for Tony. Then again, Steve really hadn’t done much since waking up in the twenty-first century. Romantically, that is. Tony’s kiss was the deepest and the wettest he’d ever had; Peggy’s had been chaste in comparison.

“—the specs to them,” Tony was saying, catching Steve’s attention.

“Er, what?” He realized he’d just missed most of what Tony had been saying.

Tony sighed. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

Steve shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Tony clapped his hands together before swinging them to his sides and turning back to the view. He looked uncomfortable and nervous, two things Steve was not familiar with seeing on Tony.

After several breaths, Steve was about to say something else when Tony was speaking again. “We don’t have to do this, you know. It’s awfully awkward, isn’t it? I don’t like awkwardness, and I don’t think you do either. So we should call it off before it gets too ridiculous. I’ll just tell Pepper there’s no way this’ll work, and she can start doing damage control—”

“Tony!” Steve’s voice was like whiplash, shutting Tony up immediately. “You’re rambling; you don’t have to.”

Tony took a breath, fingers locked together and thumbs twiddling. “I’m not.”

Steve smiled gently. “Not anymore. Don’t worry about it so much.”

“You’re not worried this is going to ruin…this?” Tony gestured between the two of them.

Steve very kindly ignored Tony’s choice of words. “No, I’m not. We can deal with this.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment, eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. His mouth twisted slightly as he looked away to the side. “You’re unbelievable,” he finally said, glancing askance at Steve.

Steve frowned, taken aback. “What?”

“It’s just really unbelievable.” Tony gave a low laugh, a helpless little sound. “I guess that’s what cinched it for me.” He smiled, teeth glinting in the light.

The odd choice of words made Steve pause, slightly confused. “Cinched what for you?”

Tony didn’t hesitate, but somehow Steve could tell there was a split-second’s indecision. “Our friendship. It cinched our friendship, which I didn’t really expect to be honest.”

If Steve had been any other person, he would have let it go. But he wasn’t. He knew Tony well enough to know that it hadn’t been friendship he was talking about. And if it wasn’t friendship, it was something else that made him nervous enough that he felt he had to cover it up.

“You’re not being honest,” he stated, moving to fold his arms and reconsidering when he felt the tight seams of his suit jacket. They’d probably rip if he tried.

Tony glanced at him and froze, eyes widening. “You should move.”

“Don’t deflect!” Steve looked at him disapprovingly.

“No, really, you should move.” Tony slid slightly to the side, freezing again just as he moved.

Steve sighed, moving to place his fists on his hips. Sometimes with Tony, a firm posture was better than a serious one. “Is there a reporter behind me? If there is, just warn me—” He broke off as he heard a small screech that he recognized from various encounters. A breath later, he said, “There’s a Doombot behind me.”

Tony nodded slowly and carefully, eyes fixed on a spot over Steve’s shoulder.

“Is it doing anything?” Steve slowly moved his hands from his hips. He didn’t have his shield, but he wasn’t helpless. Tony was a different question. Steve shot him a questioning look.

“Don’t have my suits here anymore,” Tony said quietly, interpreting the look correctly. “But I already sent the signal. It should be here soon.” He lifted his wrist, flashing the homing bracelet.

“Soon?”

“A minute maybe? Depends on wind speed.” Tony visibly relaxed, moving a hand up to his pocket to extract a pen.

“A minute?” Someone could die in a minute! Steve was horribly aware of how high they were at that moment.

“Relax. I’m not defenseless.” Tony unscrewed something on the pen, eyes still on the Doombot behind Steve.

“Because a pen is so useful.”

“I made this pen!” Tony waved it once, showing it was red and gold in color. He slipped his hand into his pant pockets, pulling out a pair of black sunglasses.”You should duck.”

Was he mad? Considering the sunglasses he was now sporting even though it was nighttime, Steve thought so. Besides, Steve was the only thing standing between him and almost certain death! “I’m not ducking.”

“No, really,” Tony said calmly, pointing the pen, which seemed to be glowing blue, in his direction. “I’ve got it handled.”

“You have a pen.”

Despite Steve’s misgivings about Tony’s possible sanity, he did throw himself to the ground when Tony barked out the order, hearing a high-pitched whirring sound that signaled repulsor fire. That was all the warning he had before a ball of energy shot over his head, hitting the Doombot with a small concussive explosion that hurt Steve’s ears.

When the light had disappeared, he looked back to see the Doombot reduced to a heap of scrap metal. That was the last time he’d make fun of anything Tony made.

Looking back to where Tony had been, panic seized his chest when he realized no one was there. It took a second for him to register that the kickback from the pen had probably knocked Tony over the railing. Without his suit.

“Tony!” Steve scrambled to his feet, rushing to the railing to look over, hoping Tony would somehow be there. His heart plummeted when he was met with nothing other than the lights of New York. “Shit!” He whirled around, running both hands through his hair.

“Steve!”

With a jolt, Steve looked up to see Clint and Natasha, both fully ready for fighting – except that Clint had no bow and arrows. He forced himself to calm down, not that it helped much considering how frantically his heart was still beating and the nasty taste of despair in his mouth.

“What happened?” Clint asked when Steve didn’t say anything. “There was an explosion out here.”

“Tony…” Steve swallowed, pushing past the memories of snow, the wind whistling in his ears, and the chugging of a train. “He fell over. There was a Doombot”—both S.H.I.E.L.D. assassins looked at the pile of scrap metal—“and he destroyed it with a pen.”

If it had been any other situation, Steve would have found their dumbstruck expressions absolutely hilarious. As it was, he could feel only a rising sort of hysteria that could not bode well for his state of mind.

“A pen,” Clint repeated blankly.

Natasha recovered more quickly, having had more exposure to Tony’s brand of craziness. “Did he make it?”

“Yes.” Steve shot a glance over his shoulder, fighting to keep his breathing even. He should get to his shield, see if there were more Doombots. He took several more panicked gasps. “Oh God…”

“It’s Tony,” Clint said soothingly, his face giving nothing away as to how he was feeling. “He’ll be fine; he’s had worse.”

“Worse than being knocked over the edge of a skyscraper?” Steve sounded slightly hysterical.

“He’ll be fine,” Natasha repeated crisply. “If the Ten Rings couldn’t kill him, I doubt a Doombot will.”

“His own stupidity on the other hand,” Clint muttered.

Natasha poked Clint in the side when Steve blanched at the statement. As Clint rubbed his side in pain, she studied Steve closely. “Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t all right. His best friend had just fallen to his death, and Steve hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. Natasha and Clint were trying to be reassuring, but Steve knew the likelihood of someone surviving a fall like that.

Just as he was about to say he was fine, a familiar high-pitched sound came from behind, and something blasted past him, ruffling his hair and clothes. Spinning around, Steve couldn’t stop a small “Thank God” from escaping his lips as he saw the familiar figure of Iron Man come to a stop in the air and drift down to hover on their level just beyond the edge of the balcony.

“So, I’m alive,” Iron Man said. “It was great timing in the end, though I thought for sure I’d go splat.”

Steve flinched at the reminder that Tony had almost died. Again. “You’re all right?” Surprisingly, his voice came out even.

“Fine. The pen had a bit more of a kick than I expected and blew up after it fired. I was a bit more concerned about the free falling, though.”

The pen blew up? “Put up your faceplate.”

There was a mechanical sigh. “We don’t have time for this; there are Doombots—”

Tony deflecting only meant injuries. “Put it up!”

There was a second of silence before the plate slid back, revealing a bloody face.

“Jesus Christ!” Clint swore.

“You’re so sweet,” Tony said, landing with a clank on the floor of the balcony. He didn’t seem to find it at all odd that his entire face had been burned by the unexpectedly exploding pen, while Steve was too horrified to even comment. “Natasha, do you have a napkin or something? I’m having trouble seeing.”

Natasha sighed in exasperation, but somehow managed to procure a cloth handkerchief and handed it to Tony, who wiped his face.

“Tony!” Steve cried, unable to believe Tony’s disregard of his skin.

“What?” The now red cloth dropped to reveal Tony’s intact face, marred only by several deep cuts on his cheeks and an ugly gash above his right eyebrow. “It looks worse than it is. Head wounds always bleed badly.” On cue, the one above his eyebrow began bleeding into his eye, which Tony rubbed away with the soaked handkerchief.

“That’s going to need stitches,” Clint observed.

“I’ll have Bruce look it over,” Tony said in a tone that signified he wasn’t going to do that at all. Steve made a mental note to force him to do so when Tony added, “But seriously, Doombots down in the streets of New York. We have to deal with that.”

“And then we’re talking,” Natasha demanded.

“Yes, fine.” The faceplate slid down. “I’m giving Richards a call, since Doom is technically his field. Aaaannnd…I’ve got the Human Torch saying they’re in Latveria taking on Doom and that sparkly vampire bunnies might be involved. We’re on our own.”

Tony dropped the bloody handkerchief to the ground, turning to them. “Now I see Clint doesn’t have his arsenal, Steve is shield-less, and Bruce and Thor are on their way. Natasha, you’re with me.”

It took Steve several seconds before he realized Tony was giving orders. Then he just let it be considering he really was unarmed, Tony was his second-in-command, and he had the most knowledge about what was happening.

“Steve, you and Clint can take care of the party; make sure everyone’s safe,” Tony continued, wrapping an arm around Natasha as she adopted the hold he and Steve had invented and the media had so fondly named the “hug-and-hold.” “Toodles!”

Then with a whine of repulsors, he was gone, Natasha in tow. There was a rumble of thunder that signaled Thor’s arrival, meaning Bruce – and Hulk – weren’t far behind.

“Geez,” Clint breathed, shaking his head. “What a guy.”

Taking several breaths to calm down and shift into the tactical mentality of Captain America, Steve turned to Clint. “You heard him, Hawkeye. Let’s take care of this.”

Clint’s demeanor instantly changed. “Right, Cap.” He gave a brisk nod and disappeared into the light of the ballroom.

Steve followed shortly after him. Tony was fine, if slightly cut up. He needed to do his job; then he could worry about what had just happened.

---

When Thor arrived at the mansion after destroying the last of the Doombots, he had Natasha with him. They headed directly to Anthony’s workshop, as Natasha continued to mutter about “self-destructive geniuses who don’t know their own worth” under her breath. Thor was slightly confused at this, as Anthony had done nothing out of the ordinary during the fight. This included grand sacrificial gestures that always made Steven pale and the lady Pepper give Anthony a verbal lashing.

They entered the workshop to see Bruce attending to clean several bloody wounds on Anthony’s face, particularly a grievous wound above his eyebrow that was still bleeding rather sluggishly.

“This is why you should be more careful,” Bruce was informing Anthony. “Especially when it comes to your face; you’re lucky you didn’t injure your eyes.”

“Will it stop bleeding?” Steven asked anxiously, hovering near them but seeming rather uncertain of his reception for some peculiar reason. His penguin suit was ruffled, the jacket lying over a table and the shirt sleeves rolled up halfway.

“He doesn’t have hemophilia if that’s what you’re worried about,” Bruce said, glancing up at Steven while dabbing a white fluff ball at Anthony’s cut, making the other man flinch. “It’s just slow to clot because this is a deep cut. And not taking adequate measures to prevent these things from happening doesn’t help.”

“I take precautions,” Anthony protested, ineffectively batting Bruce’s hand away. He stopped when Steven sent him a disapproving look that reminded Thor of Odin.

“Of course you do,” Bruce said wryly, reaching into his white medical box to pull out what looked like a needle and thread. “Stay still; that’s going to need stitches.”

Anthony sighed, a longsuffering sound that eerily reminded Thor of Loki, but remained motionless to let Bruce do his work.

“Okay, so Pepper has everything under control,” Clinton announced as he entered the room, setting his weapons down by his feet. “She also said that she doesn’t want to know what happened, but to please keep all explosions at a minimum because there’s only so much she can do to explain why there’s a smoldering heap of scrap metal on the balcony.”

“There’s a very simple explanation for that,” Anthony said, not moving at all as he spoke. “I’m Iron Man.”

“Does being Iron Man excuse you from testing your products beforehand to make sure they don’t explode in your face and send you flying over a balcony?” Natasha asked acidly.

Steven winced slightly at that, but said nothing. He was then poked in the side by Dummy, who was holding a very greasy rag. Steven took it after a moment, nodding politely, and Dummy went away, giving Thor a wide berth.

“I tested it!”

“If I may, sir,” the all-knowing JARVIS said, “the pen did not finish going through all safety protocols before you decided it was fit to use.”

“Run before walking, JARVIS,” Anthony said, making a face as Bruce put the last stitch in. “Besides,” he addressed Natasha, “I’ve had worse.”

“Worse than almost falling to your death?” Steven asked in a pinched voice.

“That was an unexpected hiccup,” Anthony admitted, ignoring Clinton’s scandalized “Hiccup?” with long practiced ease. “I didn’t expect such a strong recoil.”

“But you expected the explosion,” Steven accused. “That’s why you had the sunglasses.”

“There was a high probability that it’d explode when I used it,” Anthony conceded. “When I made it, I decided to go for more power. There was a ninety percent chance it would blow up after I used it. I just miscalculated the kick it had.”

“You don’t miscalculate,” Bruce said patiently.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Anthony said, raising his eyebrows at Bruce. “Need I remind you about Pepper?”

“You told me that you did that on purpose, for fun. Your point is invalid because you don’t make mathematical mistakes.”

“Just like you don’t make biological mistakes?” Anthony’s eyes met Bruce’s without wavering.

“Math and biology are two completely different subjects,” Bruce said rather tersely with the sort of passive calm that Thor recognized on the mighty Hulk’s face typically before he decided to take Thor on in a fight…or punch him across the room with no warning. “There’s still a lot we don’t know about biology and a lot that can go wrong. Math is stable in comparison; you always get the same results.”

“So Tony just blew himself up with a pen for laughs?” Clinton asked, leaning back against the wall.

“Note – free falling through the air isn’t fun,” Anthony said acerbically.

“But you expected it might happen,” Steven said, sounding unhappy.

There was a short pause. Then Anthony slowly admitted, “It was a possibility. Still, I had to take the chance. It was gearing up to chop off your head, and that wouldn’t have been pretty for anyone.”

Paling, Steven opened his mouth, only to say nothing when Dummy distracted him again with what appeared to be a glass of green goop that Thor did not find delicious-looking at all. After a moment of hesitation, Steven took the glass, unsure of what to do with it.

While this was happening, Natasha said tensely, “There had to have been something else you could do other than take a header off your own tower to your certain death.”

“Almost certain death,” Anthony corrected quickly, pushing Bruce’s hand away as he moved to clean the cuts on his cheeks. “The suit was coming, and I calculated there would probably be enough time before I hit the ground.”

“Did you really?” Bruce murmured, giving Anthony a warning look that made him hold still so the cuts could be tended to.

“Genius here,” Anthony said, wincing slightly as Bruce dabbed a little more viciously than normal at a cut.

In the meantime, Steven was again accosted by Dummy, who gave him what looked like a wrench. Looking utterly perplexed, Steven took this as well, now holding a dirty rag, a glass of green goop, and a wrench. That done, Dummy began pushing Steven toward Anthony, arm bobbing up and down as he did so.

“Wha – Dummy, stop!” Voice hushed so as not to distract the others, Steven did not seem to want to push back for fear of hurting the small bot, something Thor could empathize with considering his own considerable strength.

Dummy refused to listen, still pushing Steven forward. He seemed to want to get Steven to do something, though Thor did not know what. It was not until he remembered seeing Anthony walk around with a similar glass of green goop that he realized that perhaps Dummy was joining in on their matchmaking endeavor.

Thor did not know how the venture with the mistletoe had gone, but as Steven and Anthony were still no closer than they had been before, perhaps it had not occurred at all. Yet no…Anthony was refusing to meet Steven’s eyes, and Steven was beginning to blush as he found himself herded towards the man of his affections.

Not for the last time, Thor wondered just why mortals had to make emotions so difficult. Surely it was no great trial to inform someone that you greatly admired them and wished to take the relationship to a deeper level?

Then again, the multitude of movies devoted to mortals and their emotions would suggest otherwise. The fact that Thor was now embroiled in a plot to bring Steven and Anthony together further supported the notion that while mortals and their emotions were deeply complicated, perhaps there was a reason for it.

In any case, this was most likely a question he should pose to Jane. He would see her in a few days for the Christmas holiday, something he greatly looked forward to.

In the meantime, Dummy had given up on prodding Steven towards Anthony and was now pulling him along by the shirttail. This was much more effective as Steven abhorred tearing anything as expensive as the penguin outfit he was currently wearing.

“Ah…” Steven said nothing as the others in the room watched him being tugged across the floor to Anthony.

When Dummy had finally pulled Steven to a stop before Anthony, the bot poked at the hand holding the goopy glass and then at the wrench before clicking in satisfaction and whirring back to his post, where Butterfingers and You huddled together in what seemed to be eager anticipation.

Bruce had stopped prodding at Anthony’s facial wounds to sit back and observe. Anthony had the “deer-in-the-headlights” look that Clinton always found amusing.

“I suppose this is for you?” Steven asked finally, holding the goop and wrench out to Anthony.

Anthony shot Dummy a glare over his shoulder, hesitantly reaching out to take the glass. “Probably.”

Then before Steven could do anything else, Dummy whooshed back, snagged the rag, dropped it on Anthony’s head, and retreated once again to his brothers before anyone could react.

There was a stunned silence for a long moment until Anthony slowly reached up, taking the greasy, oily rag off his head and holding it, eyes unreadable. “Great, thanks, Dummy.”

“You going to drink that?” Clinton asked, nodding at the glass.

“God, no.” Anthony shot Dummy another look. “I think I saw him put some dishwasher fluid in this.”

“The rag’s too dirty to actually clean anything with,” Bruce pointed out dryly, plucking the rag from Anthony’s fingers and dropping it on the floor to deal with the burns Anthony had most likely received on his hands from holding the exploding pen.

“Careful,” Anthony warned, his hand giving a spasm before stilling to let Bruce apply some sort of salve.

“This wouldn’t even be a problem if you’d tested your product before using it.”

“If I’d waited to test it, we’d be short a Capsicle.”

“And we were almost down a genius billionaire,” Clinton replied, eliciting another flinch from Steven. “You got reeeaaally lucky there, Tony.”

“It wasn’t luck, it was math.”

“It’s not acceptable,” Steven finally spoke up. “There had to have been another way, Tony. I could’ve gotten out of the way—”

“It had a claw around you,” Anthony said sharply. “Where would you have gone? Forward? There was a gun ready to fire. Down? It would have stomped on you. I ran through all possible permutations and came up with the best possible solution. There was an eighty percent chance—”

“Eighty?”

“—that it’d work out fine considering wind speed and the path the suit was taking. Compared to the twenty-three percent chance of you managing to get out of that alive without me doing anything, I’d say the trade off was worth it,” Anthony finished firmly, not looking away from Steven.

Natasha glanced askance at Steven. “As much as I hate saying this, I have to side with Tony on this, Steve. But,” she added, glaring at Anthony, “you’re not going to go blowing yourself up with pens anymore.”

“I’ve had worse,” Anthony said dismissively, taking his hand back from Bruce once he was done, experimentally clenching it. “I know what I’m doing.”

There was a small mechanical cough from JARVIS and then silence. Thor thought it particularly eloquent.

Anthony glared upward. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, sir. I simply wished to point out your testing of the Mark II and subsequent results.”

“We don’t want to know, do we?” Natasha asked rhetorically.

“There were some slight miscalculations,” Anthony conceded, not looking abashed in the least, “but it all worked out.”

“The icing problem was an especially enjoyable experience, sir.”

“You were out for most of that, so don’t give me that.”

“I really don’t want to know,” Bruce declared, sighing. He stood up, gathering up his medical supplies.

“I kind of do,” Clinton said, ignoring the warning look Natasha shot his way. “What kind of icing problem? Does it involve cakes?”

Thor thought it a strange idea to combine sugary icing with Anthony’s Iron Man armor. What would be the purpose? It was far more likely that Anthony had accidentally frozen the armor while out flying or experimenting. If that was the case, then it was no wonder that he had done worse to himself.

“You froze yourself,” Thor stated simply, getting everyone’s attention. “I see no purpose in icing yourself decoratively, therefore you must have frozen yourself. What would be the purpose of such an experiment?”

“I wanted to see how high the suit could go,” Anthony said, shrugging lightly. “It was the first time I took it out for a spin, so I was kind of eager. In retrospect, I should have listened to JARVIS.”

“I have that on record, sir, for future reference,” JARVIS promptly said.

“Shush.”

As Clinton would say, Steven seemed slightly pasty and would probably prefer the aid of a toilet. Perhaps he needed some alone time?

Natasha and Bruce also seemed to notice the state of the Captain and backed away from Anthony and Steven.

“Don’t stay up,” Bruce told Anthony, clicking his small medical box shut. “I’ll know.”

“Talk,” Natasha ordered the two of them, grabbing Clinton by the shirt and pulling him out before he could retrieve his weapons.

“I wish you two the best of luck,” Thor informed a shifty looking Anthony and a still sick looking Steven. “And much fertility.”

There was a small choking sound from behind him as he left the workshop, picking up Clinton’s weapon as he did.

Mortals were so peculiar about their feelings. Perhaps his suggestion would help.

---

Oh wow, Steve had an adorable blush. Tony could happily spend the rest of his life thinking up ways to make him blush. But as his mind went down that path, Tony very determinedly derailed the thought because that way lay madness. He was already gone for Steve, but that didn’t mean he had to make it harder for himself.

…Oh, who was he kidding here? Because it wasn’t working.

“Tony,” Steve started, still blushing from Thor’s last comment, “we need to talk.”

Nononononooo… Those words never bode well, inside or outside a romantic relationship. And Tonyknew this would be nasty.

“Is this about the mistletoe?” he asked hastily. “Because that wasn’t my idea. I didn’t even know about it, but I will get on the job because that was not cool—”

“It’s not about the mistletoe,” Steve interrupted. “That…that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Though we should. Soon. About that.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh.” Tony paused, fidgeting. He wished he had the wrench Steve was still holding onto. “Then what?” he prompted, needing this to be over with. His quota for torturing himself by being in Steve’s presence was already maxed out for the next couple days, though he’d soon be back for more, masochist that he was.

“About what you said earlier, before the Doombot showed up.” Steve’s ears were slightly red, but he wasn’t looking away. “What was cinched for you? Because it wasn’t friendship you were talking about, so don’t give me that garbage.”

Oh shhhiiiit… Tony totally hadn’t meant to make that remark. It had just slipped out courtesy of his still rather addled state thanks to kissing Steve. It hadn’t even been a particularly nice kiss as it had been completely one-sided, but it was a sign of how far gone Tony was that even a bad kiss seemed like the best thing ever. (Seriously, he’d had better in high school, and everyone was an amateur then.) So what should he do? He could tell Steve and potentially risk losing his friendship forever, or at least until his heart got the message that it wasn’t okay to love him. (That was a lost cause already, so Tony wasn’t holding his breath on his heart suddenly changing its mind.) Or he could lie.

“You don’t get it, do you, Steve?” Smiling helplessly, Tony gestured with the hand still holding the toxic goop Dummy had made. “It’s just… I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be friends with someone who’d known Howard.” Steve flinched at that so Tony hurried to add, “But that was before. This is now, and I can tell you that after spending a lot of time with you, you’re worth it. This friendship means a lot to me, and I don’t want to do anything that could mess it up.” Like blurt his feelings out.

Steve made a sound that sounded like a muffled laugh. “Tony, if you haven’t scared me off by now, it’s not going to happen. I live with you twenty-four/seven; I know how you are.”

Point… But it still stood that Steve had only known him for months compared to Pepper’s and Rhodey’s years. There was no way he knew all the quirks and faults Tony had that would scare him off.

“You’ve only been getting small doses of me,” Tony said instead.

This time Steve blatantly rolled his eyes. “Right.” The word dripped with sarcasm. “Look, I’m not going to try and persuade you when you’re so clearly under a delusion—”

“Hey!”

“—but my point still stands that you weren’t talking about friendship. And don’t lie.”

“It was—” Tony began.

“Lie,” Steve said bluntly.

“I didn’t even finish!”

“Doesn’t matter. You were going to lie.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “The truth now?”

Tony stared at him disbelievingly for a long moment. Either Steve had just guessed that Tony was going to lie or he actually knew it from reading some other tell. He would have to have JARVIS show him the video since he couldn’t have himself broadcasting tells all over the place.

“And now you’re over thinking it,” Steve said, straightening with a vaguely disapproving look on his face. “Look, Tony, you’re my best friend; you can’t hide much from me.”

First point, best friend. Tony didn’t want to be just best friends with him. He wanted more, so much more. And there was no way of getting it without destroying their friendship because Steve didn’t feel the same way.

Second point, Rhodey was also his best friend, and Tony was fully capable of getting away with pulling bullshit on him. Either that, or Rhodey let him, but Tony thought it was because he did actually fool him. Pepper was slightly harder to fool, but she still thought that it was an accident that he’d made that miscalculation that got her the PA job. There was no way he’d tell her otherwise because she’d just think he was trying to save face or seem like even more of an asshole years after the fact.

“Are you sure about that?” Tony asked finally, wearily. “Because I’m good at keeping secrets. From you, the world, and sometimes even myself. But…not in this case.” He shrugged helplessly. “Everyone knows, except for you. You haven’t even noticed.”

Steve was frowning slightly in confusion. “Noticed what?”

Tony…Tony was just done. He couldn’t lie to Steve anymore, and he couldn’t rely on his friends to get him out of this because they’d put him in this position to begin with.

“Let me start by saying that I didn’t know about the mistletoe,” Tony said tiredly, resisting the urge to slump forward (weakness wasn’t something he could afford here). “That was my design, but I didn’t know about it being used. And the thing with Pepper and the press…I didn’t ask her to do that either.”

“I know you didn’t,” Steve said.

“Let me finish,” Tony pleaded. When Steve subsided, he took a breath, continuing, “But the tabloids in this case were being truthful – big shock, I know. There was something going on, from my end anyway. I didn’t want to tell you earlier because that it would mean losing this.” He gestured between the two of them. “And I didn’t – don’t want to lose this.”

Steve’s expression was unreadable. “What are you saying?”

Tony let out a short breathless laugh. “I want more, Steve. I… Friendship isn’t enough; it’s more than I expected, but it’s not enough. I like you, Steve.”

“So do I.”

Tony barely stopped himself from breaking out into hysterical laughter. “You still don’t get it. I like you as more than a friend.” Just say it, Stark. “What I want to say is…” Oh God, he felt like throwing up. “…I love you.”

There was what sounded like a small triumphant cheer from behind him, even though his bots didn’t have the vocal capability to do so. (And if even his bots thought he was being ridiculously obvious, there was really no hope for him.)

Steve didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were riveted on Tony, not that that made him feel any better. Neither did the completely unreadable expression on his face, which might have been shock, disgust, dismay, confusion, or any combination. The fact that Tony couldn’t tell scared the shit out of him, because he needed to know.

When several more seconds passed with no visible reaction from Steve, Tony slowly stood up, heart heavy with disappointment and stomach churning with fear.

“Well, that’s that,” he said quietly, offering a weak smile to a still speechless Steve. “So…Merry Christmas, Steve.”

He left the workshop (he wasn’t fleeing, even if he ducked out of sight before Steve could say anything) and headed straight to his room. Through sheer luck, he managed to avoid running into anyone on the way there.

Throwing himself face first on the bed, Tony spent several moments just lying there. Then he turned his face, looking at the glowing clock on his nightstand, showing clearly that it was three in the morning on December 24th.

“Merry Christmas to me,” Tony hummed lowly, his throat slightly clogged.

“Sir?” JARVIS asked tentatively.

Sighing, Tony turned onto his side. “It’s all right, JARVIS. Merry Christmas.”

“…Merry Christmas, sir.”

---

All day on Christmas Eve, Tony did his level best to avoid Steve as much as possible. That meant holing himself up in his workshop and telling JARVIS not to let anyone in unless it was an emergency. Thankfully, for once JARVIS did as he was told (or no one came down to bug him, and Tony didn’t want to think about what that meant).

He remained there until Clint came down, banging on the door and informing him that unless he came up for Christmas Eve and the traditional opening of one present, he would not be held responsible for his actions. And Bruce would unleash Hulk, although Tony thought that was a bluff because Bruce wouldn’t do that and Hulk wouldn’t break into the workshop because he loved Tony.

In any case, Tony didn’t leave immediately, taking his time to shut down his projects before he slunk upstairs in jeans and a stained shirt. Even when he joined the others, he remained in the back, not wanting to see Steve even though he really, really wanted to at the same time. (What? No one said feelings had to be logical!)

It was a few minutes before everyone began picking out presents. Tony really hoped that Steve wouldn’t end up picking his present, because that would mean interacting with him. Luckily, Thor was the first to pick a present.

His gift was from Clint, which turned out to be a box of the Pop-Tarts the god loved. Natasha went next, and her gift was the one Tony had collaborated on with Bruce. No expression showed on her face, but her lips quirked in that way that showed she was pleased. Clint ended up picking a gift from Steve, which was a small portrait of Hawkeye about to release an arrow into the head of a Doombot. Bruce’s gift was from Tony, turning out to be an old style chemical experiment kit that made his eyes light up.

When it was his turn, Tony examined all the packages and picked the one least likely to be from Steve. Opening it, he saw a Physics for Dummies book with a note on the inside that Clint expected this back on his own birthday with corrections included. Although he informed Clint that this wasn’t much of a present, he was at least thankful that it hadn’t been from Steve. That would have meant interacting with him beyond avoiding his eyes and hovering out of sight, which would have been more than Tony could stand.

Thankfully for Tony, Steve’s chosen gift was from Natasha. It was a pair of tickets to some sort of opera that Natasha and Steve apparently wanted to see. It absolutely did not send a surge of jealousy through Tony. He’d blown that chance by confessing to Steve.

After opening their one present each, they spent an hour or two milling around and drinking eggnog and hot chocolate, although Tony spent most of that time in a corner with a tablet, ignoring the looks sent his way by the others. Bruce did stop by his corner to check on his cuts and burns, but said nothing, simply offering a comforting and understanding silence.

So, engrossed as he was in his work, Tony didn’t notice that the living room had cleared out until some soft music began playing, pulling him out of engine schematics for the Helicarrier and back into the world. Blinking, he looked up, only to see Steve standing uncertainly in the middle of the room, beautifully illuminated by the lights of the Christmas tree.

“Steve?” he asked uncertainly.

“Tony.” Steve shifted in what seemed to be nervousness. “I thought…maybe we could dance?”

The suggestion had Tony on guard for several reasons. One, Steve had been rather adamant against dancing at the gala, even when it would have been a good idea. Two, they had kissed under duress that same night. Three, he’d just confessed to Steve and had been turned down via silence.

“Why?” The question was wary.

“Just…please.” Steve’s voice was pleading and soft, and Tony found that he couldn’t deny him this. (He really was a goner for this man.)

Sighing quietly, Tony shut his tablet off, slowly moving to where Steve stood.

There was a short moment of indecision where Tony wasn’t sure as to whether he should lead or Steve.

“I’ve never danced before,” Steve murmured, blushing slightly.

Well, that settled it. Tony positioned their hands and took the lead, starting off slow like the song, which he didn’t recognize.

When Steve began getting the hang of it without stepping once on Tony’s toes (which was an accomplishment, though Tony kept his senses honed for any mishaps; he did value his feet after all), Tony found he didn’t have to pay as much attention to the dance. That left him free to pay attention to important things like how warm Steve was. And how he had a small furrow between his eyebrows that signaled he was concentrating.

“Eight o’clock at the Stork Club,” Steve said suddenly, breaking the mood.

Tony blinked at him, disconcerted. “What?”

“Before I went down,” Steve said slowly, quietly, “I had a date. She promised to teach me how to dance. And…I’ve held onto that. It’s why I didn’t want to before.”

That made quite a bit of sense. What had changed his mind?

“And now?” Tony prompted just as quietly.

Steve sighed, the sound hushed. “You didn’t ask who I liked when I asked if you were gay.”

Nonplussed and with a sense of impending doom, Tony slowly said, “Are you gay?”

Steve chuckled lowly. “It wasn’t something I ever really thought about before, since when I grew up, it was assumed you were straight. And a few months ago, I would’ve said I am.”

Tony couldn’t stop the small blossom of hope that sprouted in his chest. “And now?”

“I think it’s not that clear cut,” Steve said. “I’m not straight, and I’m not gay. I don’t think it matters. What does matter is the person. And, well…I always wanted my first dance to be with someone special.” His sincere blue eyes met Tony’s. “You ran out before I could say anything,” he added disapprovingly.

Instead of ducking his head the way he wanted to, Tony stuck his chin out. “I didn’t think you were going to. I thought I’d better cut my losses while I could.”

“I…” Steve slowed to a stop, forcing Tony to stop as well. “I don’t know what I would have said,” he finally admitted. “You kind of sprung it on me, and I didn’t expect it. I honestly thought we were just friends.”

“I know,” Tony said unhappily.

“But JARVIS showed me some stuff, and I realized what Clint was trying to say. Then…the kiss.” Steve’s tongue wet his lips; Tony found himself staring at them longer than he should have.

“What I’m trying to say is…” Steve took a breath, a steely determination covering his face. “I’m half in love with you already.”

Tony’s heart beat painfully in his chest with mingled hope and disappointment. He swallowed and joked, weakly, “Only half?”

Steve smiled, the movement transforming his face into something incredibly beautiful. “For now,” he teased softly.

“So what? It’ll get less?”

“No.” Steve tipped his head down to press his lips against Tony’s, lingering for a long moment.

He was about to pull away when Tony slid a hand up to his neck and pulled him back, pushing their mouths together and deepening the kiss. There was a messy tangle of tongues and heat, and it was so much better than the one-sided kiss at the gala that Tony felt dizzy.

When they finally pulled apart, flushed and breathing heavily, Steve’s eyes were alight with something akin to joy (and love maybe? Tony didn’t dare to hope).

“I love you,” Steve breathed softly, nudging Tony’s nose with his own.

“I…” Tony sounded dazed even to his own ears.

Steve silenced him with another kiss. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”

And, yes, Tony thought it was indeed a very merry Christmas.


- Part One - Part Two - Part Three -