Fic: many names in history, none of them are ours (Avengers/MCU, 4/8)

[aubkae]

Title: many names in history, none of them are ours (4/8)
Author: aubkae
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, post-Avengers 2012
Rating: PG-13 for this part, NC-17 overall
Wordcount: 5900, overall ~42k
Characters: All of the Avengers, Pepper Potts, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, James Rhodes, JARVIS
Pairing(s): Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, references to canon pairings
Disclaimer: Marvel's. Not mine, I make no profit.
Warnings: Overall - PTSD issues, canon-typical violence, explicit sex, societal homophobia. This chapter - nothing really, save for a very vague discussion of possible child abuse..
Notes: This would not be what it is without Nyssa, Sammy, and Courtni cheering me on, believing in this story, holding my hand, and catching my screw-ups. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Steve's not sure if he'll ever understand Tony Stark, but it's good, living here. If he still wakes up sometimes convinced this was all a dream, well, it's better than it was before, and that's something, isn't it?

The Avengers live in a world that both glorifies and fears them, but they know each other now behind the scenes.

AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8



"-just a group of vigilantes!"

"What guarantee do we have-"

"-only qualifications are being arrogant and rich."

"What we need are weapons, accountable to the people-"

"- supposed to sit back and wait for them to save us?"

"I grew up idolizing him, but now I don't even see the Captain that I-"

"- for our own protection, but all I see is more blood!"

"He's not even human! Can any of us trust-"

"-and I'm grateful, but we all have to ask questions here."

"None of this insanity happened until they-"

"-and then there's the monster, which can't even be contained."

"This is a song that we've heard before, and look how that-"

"-trusting former spies?"

"Where were they when-"

"-funded by the Maria Stark Foundation. Is that what we're calling philanthropy?"

"I'm only asking for accountability. We just don't know what they're capable of and-"

"-people are afraid."

---

Oil paints had been out of the question for most of his life, but Steve loves working with them now. Layer after layer thick on the canvas, building a picture out of brushstrokes and rich smooth color.

He draws Tony sometimes. He draws all of the Avengers, but Tony most of all. In his notebooks, not on canvas, because painting him seems oddly intimate, moving from a sketch to a portrait. He's thought about it though, painting Tony lit by forge-light from below and hologram light from above, the arc reactor shining in his chest. Surrounded by darkness, creating his own light.

Intimate.

Steve paints in steady smooth brushstrokes, Brooklyn appearing bright and sharp out of faded shapes, and he tries not to think. They got back almost an hour ago, and he still hasn't managed to get into his art.

"Hey," Clint says from the doorway.

Steve closes his eyes for a second, then turns and tries a smile. "Hi, Clint."

"How are you doing?"

Steve looks down as he wipes the paint off his hands on his jeans. "I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Very convincing," Clint says. "Why do the two of you have such smelly coping methods? I think I might pass out from the fumes running interference. Or you could go talk to him and save me the trouble."

"Tony knows where I am if he wants to talk."

Clint crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah, that's what he said too. I'm guessing that if anyone's going to be the bigger person here, it's going to be you."

Steve sighs and starts cleaning his brushes. He looks up to see Clint watching him, his face serious.

"I'll talk to him," Steve says, and leaves before Clint can say anything.

The workshop door doesn't reject his keycode, which is promising. It's eerily silent instead of the wall of noise he was expecting - well, as silent as it can ever get, with the constant hum of machines and the whirring of robots. It smells like solder and melting plastic.

Tony's got the armor hanging from the ceiling, wires and tubes trailing down out of it and his head up inside the chestplate. "Need something, Cap?" he says, his voice muffled.

Steve stops, leaving a buffer zone of metal and tubing between them. "I wanted to talk about earlier."

"Oh really." Tony emerges to look at him through the wires. "I thought you made your feelings pretty clear. Not sure what else we'd need to talk about."

Tony's wearing his public face, and that hurts more than Steve had anticipated. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what, Captain?" Tony says, all edged politeness.

"Do I look like Captain America right now?" Steve gestures at his paint-covered jeans. "Can't you and I just talk, Tony?"

For a moment he thinks that Tony's going to refuse, but then he takes a deep breath and seems to deflate. "Yeah. Okay. Talk, Steve."

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you and I'm sorry," Steve says in a rush. "The way that things went, it's my fault, I didn't anticipate-"

"Since when are my actions your fault?" Tony grabs a cloth and wipes the grease off his hands. "I think I make my own choices here."

"That's not… I'm supposed to be the team leader," Steve says. "It's my job to keep you all safe. I don't want to lose you because I didn't plan well enough."

"Again, my choice, not yours." Tony tosses the cloth behind him. "I'm playing on a team now, sure, but I'm not going to ask for orders before I make all my decisions, and if that's what you want then we have a real problem here-"

"No, no, that's - that's not it at all." Steve runs a hand through his hair and tries to gather himself. "You're right, I was mad at you for charging off and not listening. But that's not why I yelled at you. On the comm.… all we heard was your voice cutting off, and then I saw that building come down, and I couldn't - I was too far away and I didn't know what… I just… Do you - I don't know if you know what that felt like. Like… like with the portal but now I… I just don't know what I would do if - Tony, I-"

Dummy nudges his elbow with a glass of… green goop. "Um, thank you," Steve says, completely derailed, and Tony starts laughing.

"Here, I'll take it," he says. "If he thinks I've been working too long, he tries to get some vegetables in me." Tony flashes a smile at the skeptical look Steve gives the glass. "Guess he's decided to mother you too. Lot of that going around."

"Tony-"

"I'm not used to this," Tony interrupts. "Having backup, much less… it just seemed like the most efficient course of action at the time. I didn't really think about it."

"Efficiency is worth nothing if it costs your life," Steve says, and stops himself before he can say anything else. Tony is fine. He doesn't even look bruised.

It had felt like he had his pre-serum body, watching the building start to come down from blocks away and running towards it, unable to run fast enough, unable to breathe. He'd skidded around the corner and had to lean against a wall when he saw Thor already there, helping Tony to his feet out of the pile of rubble and the clouds of dust.

Steve thinks of Bucky, reaching. He can't think of that now.

"I saved a lot of civilians today." Tony takes a sip of the green stuff and leans back on the desk. "Some of whom might not have made it out if I had delayed. Would you have made a different call?"

Steve takes a deep breath, the yes on the tip of his tongue. But he's not about to lie to Tony. "I would have called for backup, as I was going in on my own."

They hold eye contact for a long moment, and then Tony glances down at his drink. "Okay, Steve," he says, something in the line of his shoulders easing. "If you insist on being sensible about heroic gestures, I suppose I can call for backup next time I'm going in on my own. Jarvis, make a note."

"I have a protocol already in place and have merely been waiting for sir's permission," Jarvis says, and Tony rolls his eyes, then stretches his neck and winces.

Steve wants to touch him so desperately that he has to stick his hands in his pockets. "Thank you."

Tony shrugs and says, casual as if the past couple hours had never happened: "While you're down here, want to put that super-strength to good use and do some heavy lifting for me?"

Steve holds a machine up while Tony bends to do something to the underside of it, and he tries not to look at the nape of Tony's neck, unmarked skin where a couple hours ago a steel beam left a deep gouge in the metal of the suit, broke one of the shoulder pieces. He's seen the specs, knows the force required to do that kind of damage, knows what that would do to the human spine.

He would never restrict Tony's freedom of choice. Even to keep him safe. They're in danger every day, and he can't ask for something that he wouldn't give himself. But he wonders what Tony would do if Steve put his hand there, covering the ghost of it with his own flesh and bone.

Pull away, probably. Misinterpret it as an attempt to control and protect him, as Steve offering comfort instead of Steve needing it.

"I guess this is as fixed as it's going to get for now," Tony says, standing up. "I need to carve out some time to do maintenance if I want to be able to put together a functioning suit in the sadly likely event that I total this one. Where I'll get that time, I do not know."

Steve makes a noise of agreement, carefully setting the machine down.

They look at each other, standing awkwardly.

Tony breaks the silence. "You should eat before Dummy starts trying to feed you everything in the fridge. Let's go persuade someone to cook. You like smoothies, don't you? I should start keeping fruit down here. You can teach Dummy to make you some fruity drink, though I warn you, sometimes he has, um, unique ideas, so keep it simple."

"I like smoothies. You should eat too - Clint said something about quesadillas," Steve says. Tony puts his hand on Steve's shoulder briefly as they turn to leave; Steve can't help but lean into it a bit.

Everyone's in the kitchen, standing around and talking in low voices. They all turn to look as Tony and Steve walk in, concerned expressions turning to clear relief.

"Seriously?" Tony says. "Crisis averted, stand down team."

"The sulking was pathetic," Natasha says, but one corner of her lips quirks up. "Sit down so we can finally have lunch."

---

Tony makes his way through the crowd, pretending not to notice the looks and the attempts to get his attention, scanning the masses of people for a particular tall blond in military dress.

He finds Steve trying valiantly not to stare down into some rather impressive cleavage, overflowing out of brilliantly colored silk and lace, and his smile becomes more genuine.

"If you're not looking, you're not appreciating the dress properly," he says, coming up beside them.

"Tony, darling," the owner of the cleavage says, turning to embrace him and kiss him on both cheeks.

"Carolina, baby." He returns the embrace. "You look gorgeous. Breaking hearts and taking names?"

She laughs and kisses him again. "Always the former, the latter in special cases only, Mr. Stark. Where have you been keeping this one? Away from you, I expect, seeing as how he still blushes so charmingly."

Tony grins at Steve over her shoulder; Steve's ears are turning pink, right on cue. "The blushing is surprisingly resilient. Has Pepper seen you? She might die of shoe envy."

"Is she here? I have to find her then." Carolina pauses. "So. Is it true?"

Tony holds on to his smile. "Back to business as usual."

"Oh, sweetheart," Carolina sighs, and Tony sees Steve shift his weight uncomfortably.

"For the better," Tony says. "Or working towards it, anyway. Besides, now I'm a free man again." He leans in mock-suggestively, and Carolina smacks his arm.

"Been there, done that." She takes the gin and tonic the waiter brings her. "But I'd snap you up for the dirtiest weekend of your life if I thought that was what you really wanted."

Tony groans. "No psychoanalysis, please, I haven't had enough scotch." He doesn't look at Steve, sees him go too still out of the corner of his eye. "But in all seriousness…"

"Don't even ask. Of course I'm in," she says. "Whatever you need, within reason of course. I'll work it out with Pepper and the Maria Stark Foundation."

"Thank you," he says, just bare honesty, and she looks sympathetic.

"We'll turn the tide, Tony. It's a fickle business."

"Don't I know it."

"I'm going to go find Pepper," Carolina says, squeezing Tony's arm. "Don't leave this one unattended or he might get mauled." She points at Steve, and Tony notices the smear of red lipstick on Steve's ear. "It was lovely to meet you, Steve."

"You too." Steve kisses her hand. She laughs and gives Tony a knowing look before hugging him again and leaving.

"Here," Tony says, stepping forward to wipe the lipstick off with a napkin. "Whoever did this must have been a model or wearing really high shoes."

Steve turns his head and holds still for him. "Both, I think. She was also really drunk."

Tony might linger just a few seconds longer than necessary. He can smell Steve's aftershave, and he's immune to the men-in-uniform thing because of work, but damn, Steve does wear it well.

Steve also looks a little wobbly around the edges, because he hates these kinds of events and he'd probably been mobbed by people until Carolina scared them off. "Need some air?" Tony says.

"Yes," Steve answers immediately, and Tony has a weird flashback to Pepper, that night when things shifted. The beginning of the end, in a way, and he doesn't regret any of it but he just wishes…

A lot of things. He wishes a lot of things. He obtains a scotch for himself and wine for Steve and they head out into the gardens. There are people out here too, but fewer of them, and Tony steers Steve to a corner that's out of the way enough that people should leave them alone, but not so out of the way that it looks like he's trying to take advantage of Steve in the bushes. The last thing they need are those rumors, especially considering Tony's inconvenient crush.

"Um," Steve says after a moment. "Carolina. She's a hell of a da-lady. How do you know her?"

"She is at that, and you should definitely call her a dame, she'd like that. She's a corporate lawyer," Tony says, and smirks as he watches Steve adjust his assumptions. "Officially. But she's a corporate lawyer like I'm an engineer - really, Carolina's out to change the world. She has fingers in many pies, venture philanthropy being the most currently relevant flavor."

"I can see why you get along," Steve says. "You, ah, don't really…"

"Get along with many people?" Tony smiles when Steve can't think of a diplomatic way to finish. "You can say it, it's true. Hopefully she's going to unsnarl the mess that is Avengers vs. the world and Avengers vs. obtaining funding without selling ourselves to the government, so I'd play nice even if I didn't like her."

"That's… good," Steve says. "I guess we need all the help we can get on that front, don't we?"

"Don't we indeed." Tony sips at his drink and watches a group of people walk by.

"So, you two were…" Steve trails off. It's too dark to tell if he's blushing.

"Briefly and explosively," Tony says with a grin.

Steve's eyes glaze over a bit. "Hmm."

"Hey, we can find her again if you want," Tony says, ignoring the stabbing jealousy. Carolina's a good person, and an idealist like Steve. It's not a completely awful thought, as awful thoughts go.

Steve blinks. "What? Oh! No, no. I mean, not that she's not… Um. Never mind."

"Alright, then." Tony gives Steve a considering look but decides to just ignore that. "So, you were going to talk to those guys, have a regular old-school military gossip session. How'd that go?"

"Apparently one of them met me before," Steve says. "I signed his baseball cap when he was five. He says I'm just as nice as he remembered and he thinks we're doing the right thing."

"Hope he tells all his friends," Tony says. "Try your wine."

"Sounded like he was." Steve sips his wine and his face brightens. "This is good!"

"I have good taste," Tony says. "What about the rest of them?"

"Positive but no real commitment." Steve shrugs. "I don't know. I'm terrible at this stuff. I was terrible at it before, and nowadays… Never thought I'd miss holding babies and punching Hitler. How about you do the talking and I'll just stand behind you holding up ladies on motorcycles?"

"You know, I bet people would go for that," Tony says with a grin. "They might stick money in your belt rather than write checks, but…"

Steve makes Tony's favorite face. "Fury might fund us just to make us stop."

"If he signs all the appropriate 'SHIELD doesn't own the Avengers' waivers, I don't care about his motives," Tony says. "But really, non-profit status, UN and SHIELD backing, and private grants plus my money through the Foundation seems like our best bet. I see boring legal meetings in my future, but less boring than they could be now that Carolina's involved."

Steve stares down at his glass, serious again. "I don't know how you do this."

"I've been schmoozing since I could walk," Tony says, shrugging. "At best it's a game. At worst it's…" he trails off, because he's not going to say 'a desperate attempt to stave off loneliness and self-loathing' out loud, no matter how much he might like and trust Steve. "But it's good to know not everyone thinks we're evil. You just continue to be nice and non-threatening to old men. We should maybe do another couple rounds of the room before we make our escape - we can walk around together if you want."

Steve looks at him uncertainly. "I don't want to get in your way. You were with that blonde… lady."

Tony doesn't even know what he's talking about for a minute, but then remembers the random socialite he'd been half-heartedly flirting with earlier. Interesting to know that Steve was watching him.

"She's not the blond I want on my arm, capsicle," Tony says, offering his elbow with a dramatic flourish, as if it was a joke.

He's expecting an eye-roll, but Steve ducks his head and rubs his hand along the back of his neck, and is he actually-?

Both of their phones start playing the emergency signal, because that's just what this week has been like. "Fuck," Tony sighs.

He watches Steve Rogers change his stance and become Captain America, and thinks to himself that he might have some further testing to do on previously held assumptions.

---

Steve tosses and turns for three hours before he gets up. He really should sleep, because he has an interview first thing in the morning. There's not even any reason he's awake - no nightmares and he's definitely tired enough - but it's just not happening.

"Jarvis, is anyone up?"

"Ms Romanoff is in the library," Jarvis says, and Steve pulls on sweatpants and a hoodie and goes to find Natasha. She's curled up with a book, deep purple circles under her eyes, but she sets it down and gives him a wan smile as he approaches.

Steve sits in the chair across from her. "Want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head. "No. But thank you for the offer. You?"

"Nothing to talk about," Steve says. "Just can't relax."

"Something - or should I say, someone on your mind?" She arches an eyebrow.

He's known for ages that she knows, but his pulse still jumps a bit.

"We don't have to talk about it," Natasha says quickly, but Steve shakes his head.

"No, it's okay. You're right. He - Tony has been on my mind a lot." He's never admitted it out loud before. It's kind of a relief. Steve takes a deep breath. "I guess I could use some advice."

"I don't know if I'm really the person to give it," Natasha says. "I'm not precisely an expert in normal human relationships."

"You're my friend." He watches something change in her expression, and adds: "One of my best friends. And none of us are normal."

"I suppose we aren't," Natasha says, curving into the chair a bit more and propping her chin on her hand. "What kind of advice? I'll do my best."

"Everything. Anything." Steve leans his head back against the chair. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Because he's a man?" she says, gently.

"No… Well, I guess a bit. That just… adds an extra layer to it though." He can feel his ears heat up.

"Ah," she says, and he's glad he doesn't have to say it. "Well, the interest is mutual, if you were wondering about that."

"You think so?" He sits up to look at her.

"Yes," she says, looking slightly amused. "Definitely."

He takes a second to process that, and resists asking her if she's sure. She wouldn't say it if she wasn't.

"Even if you're right… I don't know if… I mean. I'm serious about this."

She nods. "Tony can be serious. You know that. He could be serious about you. Or he might not be able to get his head out of his own ass, but you'll never know if you don't try." She pauses as if she's about to say something more, but then doesn't continue.

"It's not really a good time," Steve says after the silence hangs for a moment. "I mean, with the press and the funding and all that. There's so much going on, I don't want to throw another wrench in it all."

"True, but do you think that's going to change? You're Captain America and Iron Man. You're going to go from one crisis to another for the rest of your lives. There won't ever be a good time."

He can't deny that. "The team-"

"Supports you," she says without pause.

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, swallows hard at the idea of that easy acceptance. "Even if everything else… it's kind of unfair to do that to Pepper. It hasn't been that long really."

Natasha shakes her head. "They're over. It's fine. Pepper likes you, unlike most people Tony's shown any kind of interest in. She's moved on too."

"Oh," Steve says. "Well."

He's sure that he has other arguments, but everything else sounds so flimsy. Natasha just looks at him, her expression sympathetic, but he can tell she'll keep challenging everything he comes up with. Steve's heartrate picks up as he thinks of actually doing this, telling Tony, bringing it up in conversation somehow. Somehow. He doesn't know how.

They hear the elevator ding down the hall. Both of them turn as Clint wanders in and stops in the doorway, holding a bag of peanuts and looking from Natasha to Steve and back again.

"General insomnia club or girl talk?"

"Clint," Natasha says, and gives him a look.

"Oh, serious talk." Clint pops a handful of nuts in his mouth. "Cap, Tony's an idiot. You might just have to grab him."

"Thanks, Clint," Natasha says. "Very valuable advice."

"So I guess everyone knows, then?" Steve runs a hand through his hair and tries not to cringe. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Yep," Clint says. "If the longing looks were any thicker in the air, we might not be able to walk around. I know you work the Spandex and it's distracting, but if I catch Tony staring at your ass one more time while he's supposed to be planning how to get me ideally situated mid-battle, I'm going to hit him."

Steve makes a strangled noise and Natasha's lips twitch. "You see? Even Clint can see it's mutual."

"Hey," Clint protests.

"Honestly, Steve," Natasha continues. "Talk to him. It's good odds."

"And you better do it soon," Clint says, "because otherwise Thor might not be able to restrain himself any longer and he'll announce it at the dinner table."

Steve puts his head in his hands. Natasha pats his knee; Clint offers him some peanuts.

---

Another day, another event. This one goes bad from the start, because they were all up all night talking down a kid with too much super-powered anger and not enough will to live, and they saved the day, mostly, but it was straight from one kind of suit to another and out in front of the flashing lights, and Tony is just so fucking tired.

Bruce bowed out of this one, and they're all kinda relieved about that. Steve looks like if he relaxes the military posture he might collapse. Tony has no idea where Clint even is, and Natasha's on Thor-watch, because if they have another incident of Asgardian bellowing about honor there will be people going on about trusting aliens again, and that just won't help the situation.

Carolina's started working her magic at the Foundation, and the financial situation is stabilizing at least, but there's no quick fix for negative public opinion.

So Tony's in a pretty shitty mood to begin with. It doesn't help that this particular charity event is at the mansion of a Stark family friend, and apparently it's talk about Howard Stark day. Everyone's got an opinion on how Howard would do this and that and how Tony's trashing the family name - not that anyone's had the balls to flat out say that yet, but Tony can practically see them thinking it.

He's dying to get out of here, and normally he would just go. Before, he would have left as soon as it started going south, drunk and trailing supermodels, mortally offending half the party on his way out.

It's a bitch to have people relying on him; they don't need 'Tony Stark throws hissy fit at charity event for kids' in the headlines any more than they need 'Alien challenges politician to duel.'

He needs another drink.

"I don't know about your new direction, Tony," the current offender is saying, leaning in as if they're pals. "I know you've had some bad experiences, but what we need is not you and your band of vigilantes tackling our enemies one a time, but Stark Industries back doing what it does best - making weapons."

"So, you don't like clean energy then?" Tony dodges the arm-around-the-shoulders attempt. "Way of the future, saving the planet and all that. I guess that's not really your shtick."

"I knew your father, and he wouldn't have stood for all this tree-hugging. Your father made a weapon that ended the war. You built a robot suit. Howard would have-"

Tony almost laughs, and then he's just had enough. "Yes, nuclear bombs are the solution. That's sure to work and not at all likely to end with the world as a smoking crater. If you'll excuse me, I have important things to do. Give my regards to your daughter, you know, the one who was in Manhattan when aliens tried to take over the Earth and failed because of, oh that's right, me and my band of vigilantes. Your daughter, who would have been an acceptable loss when it was decided that dropping a bomb on American civilians was the only option available. Maybe you could ask her about nuclear war."

Tony flashes the peace sign and leaves, ignoring the sputtering behind him. Yep - hissy fit at kids' charity event, check. He'll have to call Pepper and see about damage control. Later.

He's been to this house before, and unless habits have changed - nope, unlocked and empty study, fully stocked liquor cabinet. He'll bring a bottle as a present next time he visits, not that anyone will notice he's even been in here.

His hands are not shaking.

The door opens a crack. Steve pokes his head in, sees Tony and his bottle, and invites himself in. Of course he does.

"Family tradition," Tony says, raising the glass as if making a toast, knocking it back and pouring another.

"You know, my father was an alcoholic." Steve comes over and leans against the desk next to Tony. "It would probably be bad press if I went back out there and hit that fellow, right?"

"Probably," Tony says, and he doesn't look up. He doesn't think he can get his expression under control, not enough to fool Steve. "Not really sure why people think mentioning knowing dad is going to get me to shape up. Hasn't worked for anyone for decades."

"I knew him too."

"Like I could ever forget," Tony says over the glass, and Steve goes still beside him.

"We weren't friends."

Tony turns to glance at Steve. Steve shifts on the desk and continues. "I mean, we worked together, and we were friendly enough. But I never really felt like I knew him, or like he wanted to really know me. The work was always more important to him than the people."

"And here I thought that he just didn't like me," Tony says, attempting joking and ending up at just bitter.

Steve takes a slow breath. "The more I - I don't know anymore if I ever knew him at all. If he could become the kind of person who…"

"Who what? Who would make billions developing the most effective weapons in the world? Who would become so respected in his field that everyone still talks about him like a hero even when he's been dead for twenty years? Who-" Tony cuts himself off, shuts his mouth, clenches his jaw.

"Who would mistreat a child," Steve says, and Tony can't help but flinch. He takes a careful breath and sets his glass down.

"That's a loaded statement, and not exactly the publicly held view of him," he says, looking straight ahead. "And I know it's not in my SHIELD file or his. What would make you come to that conclusion?"

"Educated guess," Steve says. "I asked Pepper once why you never talked about him - uh, that sounds bad. I was just trying to avoid - it was when I first moved to the Tower, and we were, you know, not exactly friends. I wanted to avoid stepping on toes as much as possible."

Tony can imagine this conversation. It would be a funny image if he was in an amused kind of mood. "And what did Pepper say?"

"She told me to think about it, and that I shouldn't talk about him with you. I - between my own father and friends I've had whose families have been… I can tell that he wasn't a very good father to you."

Steve seems so innocent that sometimes people forget the times he grew up in. Tony's story is the typical poor little rich boy kind of tale; Steve's is just plain poverty and the struggle to survive. Tony can't even look at him, the bite of the scotch in his throat too familiar.

"I don't know that I would say mistreat, exactly," he says. It's as close as he's going to come to admitting anything, at least right now.

Steve doesn't call him on it, thankfully. "I'm just sick of people saying those things about you. I said things I regret back before I knew you, and I was wrong then. I don't know why other people don't see it too, or why they keep comparing you to him."

"I'm not like you," is all Tony can say to that. "You actually do live up to expectations."

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not perfect."

"Do you know how much blood I have on my hands, Ca - Steve?" Tony says, turning to look at him. "At least my father was fighting Nazis, not blissfully oblivious to what his own company was doing."

"I've killed people," Steve says. Tony shakes his head.

"I've seen villages wiped off the map, orphaned children missing limbs… because of me, because of what I've made. I signed off on the weapons that killed American soldiers in front of me. Me, personally. Yes, that design will be very effective, I said, and what do you know, I'm always right when it comes to the effectiveness of weapons. How can I ever-"

His hand is up by the arc reactor again. Clearly he needs to get out of here, if he can't even keep that habit under control.

"Tony-"

Tony keeps talking over him, everything spilling out now that he's gotten started. "Someone's filled you in on how the war ended, right? You know how instrumental my father was in ending it? The Stark legacy - military technology. And then there's me in my robot suit, thinking I can change that-"

Steve moves, off the desk and right in Tony's face so fast that Tony can't even react.

"I am military technology," Steve says, low and intense. "But that's not all I am, and that's damn well not all you are either. I've seen the footage from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And I've seen you fly into death to keep that from happening here."

Steve's fingers dig in painfully tight on Tony's shoulders. Tony stares at him, watches a muscle twitch in Steve's jaw, meets his eyes.

"Don't you dare call yourself less than Howard, Tony," Steve says. "Not to me. I don't know what happened to him after I knew him, or what happened between him and you. But I know you now, I know you, and you're one of the best people I have ever known."

They stare at each other for a long moment, Steve flushing slowly and Tony swallowing hard.

"I'm going to do something crazy," Tony says, just as fair warning, and then he kisses Steve.

There's half a second where it's just a soft touch of lips, a heartbeat until Steve makes a quiet noise and kisses back, hands relaxing enough so that he's holding Tony's shoulders instead of gripping, leaning in with his whole body to press Tony against the desk.

Steve kisses like he does anything, with so much open earnestness and conviction that it almost hurts. Tony doesn't know if he even can match that, be worthy of that, but he's going to try, and he gets one hand on Steve's hip and tilts Steve's head with the other, deepens the kiss when Steve opens for him, and he doesn't care about the headlines or the people he needs to talk to or his endless list of responsibilities, they are going home right now-

"Ahem."

They both jump and turn towards the door, but Steve doesn't move away like Tony would have assumed. Natasha's in the doorway, perfectly poised as always, holding her SHIELD comm. against her ear. "We have a situation," she says.

They pull out their own comms. "Avengers!" Nick Fury's voice says. "We have giant frogs in Central Park. I repeat: giant frogs. Yes, Barton, I am serious. Get your asses over here, hoppity hop."

Steve starts laughing, and Tony can't help but join in. Natasha looks as unruffled as usual, but when Steve presses a quick kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth before pulling back, Tony sees her smile.
---

On to Chapter 5