in the line of fire (II)
The first day of junior year is a strange one for Steve.
For one thing, he’s about half a foot taller than he used to be (and still growing) which makes people notice him more than they used to (read: not at all). His voice is a little deeper too, and the clothes Natasha bought him fit like nothing he’s ever owned. He’s still skinny, but the height makes a difference for some reason, because people watch him as he walks down the hall. It’s weird. He’s not sure he likes it.
He stops at his locker to switch his books out and a girl-- Sharon Carter, who Steve is fairly certain has never looked at him before-- approaches him. She has dark brown hair and eyes that remind him of a girl he knew named Peggy back in Brooklyn. It’s a little off-putting.
“Hey,” she says, tilting her head and smiling up at him through her lashes. Steve furrows his brow.
“Hi.”
“So, do you know where your first class is?”
“Uh, yeah.” Steve pulls out his schedule. He likes to use it for the first couple of days, just to get acclimatized. “Miller, English, 331.”
Sharon’s eyes light up, and she smiles wider. “Oh my god! I’m in that class too! I can walk you there if you want, and show you around.”
Steve doesn’t need to be shown around. He knows where room 331 is. But, she is being nice to him, and maybe if he lets her think he’s an idiot, she’ll be friends with him. No, no. He doesn’t need friends like that. He knows that.
“Actually, I know where it is.”
Sharon doesn’t seem fazed at all. “Oh, did they give you a tour when you got here?”
“Yes?” When he was a freshman he got a tour, just like everyone else. “And going to school here for the past two years has helped too.”
Sharon’s eyes narrow at him, and then widen in what Steve can only guess is realization. And then she starts laughing.
“Oh my god! I’m sorry! That’s--” She puts a hand to her chest, bending over for a moment. “Oh my god. You must think I’m an idiot.”
Steve smiles at her and shakes his head.
“Well, please. Walk with me to class so I feel like less of a jerk.” She looks up at him again through her lashes and Steve blinks. He thinks briefly of Tony, who claimed to be his best friend but never once hung out with him in school. Maybe Sharon only wants to be his friend now that he’s acceptably attractive or something, but at least she’ll be seen with him. And is making the first move.
“Sure,” he says, and the smile he gets from Sharon is worth it.
---
He and Sharon end up dating for all of Junior year. They go to Homecoming together, spend the holidays in a cabin in Canada with Natasha and Clint-- which is not nearly as awkward as Steve thinks it’s going to be-- and Steve’s actually kind of excited to go to prom with her.
He’s not a dance or a party person, never has been and probably never will be, but he is excited that he gets to see Sharon in a lovely dress and have a nice dinner with everyone he’s become friends with. He’s happy for the first time in a long time. It’s nice.
That is, until Clint comes into his room one day to give him The Talk.
“This is a condom,” Clint says as he closes the door, throwing a small square into Steve’s lap. Steve picks it up gingerly, like it might break.
“I know what a condom is,” he says, holding back a laugh, and Clint glares at him.
“Look, you’re a kid, that’s fine. You want to have sex? Whatever, I can’t stop you. You don’t want to have sex? That’s fine too. You do what you want, you make your own choices. I trust you. But, if you do have sex or are having sex, use protection for Christ’s sake. No one needs a kid at your age. I promise.” Clint opens the door and slips out, leaving Steve sort of dumbfounded on his bed.
---
“I got us a hotel room.” Sharon’s voice is warm against Steve’s ear and the rhinestones in her dress are digging through his shirt. He knew it was a bad idea to take off his jacket. He half-turns toward her.
“Yeah? What for?”
She smiles at him, something dark in her eyes that hits Steve right in the stomach. He feels himself licking his lips, but he doesn’t mean to.
“Yeah,” she says, coming close again, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding to his front, grinding like everyone else is. Steve gets it, now. “For that.”
Later, while Sharon’s in the shower and Steve’s lounging on the bed in the hotel room, his phone vibrates with a text message. It’s from Tony.
Back in town for a few days before Cali for the summer. Lunch? Dinner?
It’s hard to swallow around the lump in his throat, but somehow Steve manages, and deletes the message.
“Something wrong?” Sharon asks later while they’re watching a movie. Steve keeps checking his phone, which he knows is stupid. He hadn’t sent a reply.
“Ah, no,” he says, turning it on silent and putting it on the bedside table. He leans down to kiss her, cupping her cheek. “Nothing’s wrong at all.”
---
Steve and Sharon break up over the summer. For a high school romance, it lasts a long time, but Sharon wants to go off to college at the end of their senior year. Steve doesn’t. He wants to join the military, because he thinks it’ll give him some kind of purpose in life. Everyone he says that too, though, looks at him like he’s crazy.
In the end, they decide it’s easier to break up now rather than later. Sharon’s worried about how heartbroken she’ll be but Steve-- and he feels terrible about this-- figures he’ll feel less obligated to be sad later on. He goes back to being a hermit, mostly, and trains to enlist.
“You know son, you’ll have a better chance of commissioning if you go to school. The military gives out great scholarships,” his recruiter tells him, the day he signs up.
“Never had much interest in school,” Steve says, lying, because he loves to learn. He’d love to go to college and study, but he wants to study things like Art and History. There’s no place for art in the military. He’d feel bad taking their money. (And he’d never let Natasha and Clint pay for his education. They’ve done so much for him already.)
The recruiter frowns at him and then shrugs. “It’s your choice.”
“I know, sir. This is what I’d like to choose.”
---
Boot camp reminds Steve entirely too much of his childhood.
He’s yelled at almost day and night, spends most of his time on the ground with dirt in his mouth and being generally miserable. But he gets through it with flying colors, and they tell him they’re sending him to officer school.
By the time he gets back to New York City, it’s been almost a year since he’s graduated. But still, when he opens the door to the apartment and flops down on the couch in the living room for a nap, he feels like nothing’s changed. It’s nice.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Steve opens one eye to see Clint standing in the doorway to the kitchen, drying off a fork. He smiles and sits up, giving a little wave.
“You look beat,” Clint says, and Steve nods.
“Takes a lot out of you.”
“I know.”
“Your mother will want to see you, you know. You should head up to your room.”
Steve sighs and stands, arching his back to pop it. “Yeah, alright.” He heads for the hallway, and Clint disappears into the kitchen, only to pop back out a moment later.
“Hey, also?” Steve stops, turns to look at him. “Tony called a couple of times. Came by, too. I think he wants to talk to you.”
Tony came by? Steve feels dizzy, like the floor is moving. It’s not moving, no. It’s fine. Okay. That was odd. He nods at Clint. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
---
Steve remembers hearing about the death of Tony’s parents at the beginning of boot camp. One of the guys was talking about it like it wasn’t a big deal, and Steve sat on his cot and listened to the whole thing. Car accident, mysterious circumstances. Some say Howard was drunk, some say they were run off the road. All he knows for sure is that it was a closed casket ceremony.
And that he didn’t send Tony a letter.
He feels like it’s too late for them. For him and Tony. Too much time has passed for it to be okay for Steve to send him a condolence card, and he knows Tony wouldn’t want it anyway. So, he hadn’t done anything for lack of anything better to do.
He sits on his bed once he’s upstairs, thumbing the screen of the phone his parents bought for him as a graduation gift. He still has Tony’s number, he could call him. It’d be so easy. Just one tap and the number would dial and that would be it. He’d hear his voice again. But Steve’s not sure he wants to know what Tony sounds like full of grief. He doesn’t know that he can handle it.
He puts the phone down and kicks off his shoes instead, laying back on the bed. It’s not five minutes later that his phone beeps with a text message.
Tony.
I know you’re back. Please. Can I come over?
Steve stares at the message for a long time before typing out a reply.
Dinner’s at seven. Don’t be late.
And disappoint Natasha? What are you, new?
Steve smiles at the screen and gets out of bed to change into his civilian clothing.
---
Tony arrives at 6:45pm, knocking obnoxiously on the door. Steve opens it, quirking an eyebrow at the look on Tony’s face. His mouth is open, as if he’s about to say something but it’s frozen, and his hand is still in the air, curled into a fist for knocking. He looks different; taller, thinner, and he has a weird beard thing on his face that Steve’s not sure he likes. He’s wearing sunglasses and an expensive gray suit. Steve finds himself inexplicably happy.
“You gonna come in, or are you gonna stand there and look ridiculous?” he says, fighting a grin. Tony blinks a few times and lowers his hand, but he’s still gaping.
“You’re staring, Tony,” he says, more gently, and that snaps Tony out of it.
“Hello, gorgeous, and really, I mean that,” Tony says, and something in Steve’s chest jumps. He also blushes, which is ridiculous too, because he hasn’t blushed in four years. Really. Tony steps forward to come in, brushing by Steve. He smells good. Mostly the same, but a little richer, like his cologne changed and Christ, why does Steve remember this stuff? There must be something wrong with him.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you, then? Captain Muscles? Sergeant Steve? Yeah, did you really think I wouldn’t find out about you joining the military, Steve? Jesus. Really?” Tony’s voice has a strange edge to it, just a little too strained to really be joking.
“It’s not like you asked,” Steve says, and that makes Tony stop, rub his hands over his thighs and take a deep breath.
“You’re right,” he says, and it’s not what Steve expects at all. “You’re right. I should have-- I just left you-- I’m a bad friend.”
That implies you were a friend at all, Steve wants to bite back, but he doesn’t. Tony doesn’t deserve that. He’s trying. Steve can tell he’s trying.
“You are, but it’s okay,” he says instead, smiling. “Let’s eat?”
“Please.”
---
Dinner passes without much incident. Clint and Natasha are too excited for Steve to be back to really notice anything wrong between him and Tony, and if they do, they don’t mention it.
Tony leaves that night and comes back the next day and then again the next. Steve only has about three weeks before he leaves to go overseas, so he’s grateful for the time they do get to spend together. It’s strange at first, like he doesn’t quite remember how to act around Tony. Steve feels like he’s changed a lot in four years. He’s not the scrawny kid who depends on Tony to keep him safe anymore. He can take care of himself, but just because he doesn’t need Tony around doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Tony around. He also doesn’t know how to tell Tony he wants him around. It’s a complicated thing.
It doesn’t really matter, though, because Tony comes over around the same time each day for a week and half and eventually they learn to be friends again.
“So what do you do?” Steve asks him one day while they’re in the library, lounging on the couch. Steve’s reading the newspaper with his feet tucked up under Tony’s thighs, while Tony-- who doesn’t seem to mind keeping Steve’s toes warm-- skims a magazine.
“What?” He asks, turning his head only slightly.
“What do you do? Now that you’ve graduated. Do you just have your Dad’s job or--”
“I run Stark Industries. I’m the CEO.” He doesn’t sound too happy about it, Steve notes.
“Oh. Sounds interesting.”
“It’s not.” Tony goes back to his magazine and Steve chews on his lower lip as he reads the paper.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” he says a moment later, and sees Tony’s shoulders slump.
“You weren’t. I just-- it’s still hard. Adjusting to it. No one there thinks I’m doing a good job. I can tell.”
Steve frowns. “That’s ridiculous. Of course you’re good at your job. Don’t worry about what they think.”
“They run the board, Steve,” Tony says, exasperated and acting like Steve’s an idiot. It catches him off-guard and makes him angry, angrier than he really has any right to be. “They think I’m incompetent.”
“Then you prove them wrong,” Steve says, voice tense. He feels Tony stiffen again next to him.
“Oooookay, note to self: Steve’s different, don’t piss him off.”
“What did you expect? It’s been four years. And I’m not that different.”
“You sure about that?” Tony asks with an eyebrow raised at him, and Steve wants very much to hit him.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I was never afraid to stand up for myself. Don’t know why that’d change.”
Tony’s jaw clenches, like he’s holding something back, and then he stands, smoothing down his jacket.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Steve. Nice catching up. Talk to you later.” He’s out the door before Steve can stop him. Instead, he just sits on his bed and watches him go.
---
Tony doesn’t come back for dinner the next night.
In fact, he doesn’t come back until the day Steve’s set to go. Steve’s in his uniform, carrying his duffel bag down to the car when he spots Tony.
“Hey,” Tony says, tugging at the hem of his undershirt. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt under a deep red t-shirt. It’s a style that Steve’s never really understood, but it looks good on Tony. Everything looks good on Tony, it seems, but this isn’t the right time for him to be thinking about that.
Steve’s hand tightens on the strap of his bag and he stands a little straighter, glancing at Tony. “Hey.” He wasn’t planning on saying goodbye. He isn’t good at them, and he’s spent the past week convinced that Tony hates him. It’s not a good thing.
“What are you doing here?” Steve doesn’t mean to sound so harsh. He’s genuinely curious. Tony isn’t the type to be good at goodbyes either.
“Just came to wish you luck, Captain,” Tony says with a shrug.
“Thank you.” This is the worst. Steve can’t tell if he’s supposed to be mad or forgive him. He came to say goodbye, but he also hasn’t apologized. Steve doesn’t know what to do.
Tony takes a step toward him, a hand outstretched. “I also-- uh-- I need to tell you something.” He takes another step forward and his hand connects with Steve’s jacket. Steve wants to pull away but he can’t. His legs won’t move, and his whole body has gone stiff, frozen.
“What’s that?” They’re so close, Steve doesn’t feel the need to speak at a normal volume. Tony takes another step forward and grabs his tie, curling it around his hand. Steve’s blushing now, and can feel his own heartbeat in the pulse point in his neck. It’s a strange feeling. He focuses on it to calm himself down.
“I need you to stay. I-- You’re all I-- I need you to stay, Steve. Please.” He’s grabbed the handle of Steve’s duffle now, and is trying to pull it out of Steve’s hand. Steve registers the movement in the back of his mind and tightens his grip.
“No.” It’s an automatic response. Defensive, even, but Steve isn’t entirely sure. All he knows is that he made a promise to go somewhere and do something, and he’s going to do it. “I can’t back out. It’s a military contract, Tony. I’m commiss--”
“No, please,” Tony says, and Steve’s never heard him beg like that before. A sharp pain goes through his chest, like he’s run into something sharp. “Please. I need you. I have connections, I can get you out of--”
“Tony, no.” Steve feels wet. His cheeks feel wet and his eyes sting for some reason. Oh, tears. He’s crying. He doesn’t know why. “I can’t just do that. I have to go, I have to--” He wrenches free, pushing Tony back with a hand on his chest. “I need to go.”
Steve backs away from Tony as quickly as he can and gets in the car. He doesn’t look through the rear view window to see Tony sit on the ground and put his face in his hands.
And if he has to put his head between his knees to get himself under control, well-- that’s no one’s business but his own.
---
The blast hits the hummer and Steve is the only known survivor.
The radio’s shot, so Steve’s best bet is to get back to base by walking. Except the desert’s hot and he has little to no water and truthfully-- because Steve’s always been one for the truth-- he’s not sure he’s gonna make it.
He tries to find shady spots to sleep in for most of the day so he can do his walking in the evening and night, to combat dehydration, but he’s still in a warzone. He’s still in danger with every step he takes, and he isn’t sure where base camp is by now.
On his third day, he hears the roar of helicopter blades above him and he looks, thinking he’s finally gone insane. Or died. He shouts for joy when he sees the familiar insignia and falls to his knees as it lands, waiting for them to come find him.
“You alright there, tough guy?” Tony. That’s Tony’s voice. This must be a hallucination, he’s wrong. He’s going to die out here. Still.
“Been better,” he says, looking up, and yep, that’s Tony’s face, looking so relieved that he might actually cry. Wouldn’t that be a laugh. Tony Stark never cries.
“Yeah, I bet you have,” Tony says, kneeling down next to him and wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. He wonders briefly if this is a strange, tactile hallucination before his vision is swimming and everything goes dark.
---
Steve wakes in a bright hospital room, shielding his eyes against the harsh glare. Once his eyes have adjusted, Steve looks around, and immediately spots Tony, asleep in one of the uncomfortable chairs.
“I wasn’t hallucinating, then,” Steve says, and it hurts to talk. Tony stirs at the sound, blinks a few times and then seems to realize that Steve is awake. He’s up in a flash, grabbing a cup of water with a straw and bringing it to him.
“Hey gorgeous,” he says with a grin, and damn it, Steve blushes. Every time.
“You only do that so I’ll blush,” Steve says, taking the cup from him to drink.
“Maybe, or maybe I really think it.” Tony tilts his head, and it’s like they’re eleven and thirteen again, and Tony’s daring him to prove him wrong.
“How’d you find me?” Steve asks, looking away to break the tension. Tony pulls out a little device and hits a button, and something on Steve’s bedside table lights up. “What’s that?”
“Tracking device. Stark Industries’ new line.” Tony clicks the button again and puts the device down. “Remember when I told you I sucked at my job? Well, you were right. I don’t. It just took--” Tony takes a deep breath, biting his lip. “It just took almost losing you to realize it.”
“What?” Steve doesn’t understand. He doesn’t even know what Tony does. He thought Stark Industries only had contracts with the military for weapons.
“They do,” Tony answers, and okay, Steve must have a concussion because he only says what he’s thinking when he’s drunk. “But I changed that. I didn’t want to kill people anymore, even people who are supposed to be out enemy. I-- I just wanted to protect, you know?”
“Protect and serve,” Steve says, and Tony nods.
“Exactly. And then I heard that you joined, and I just--” He stops again, looking away and then back at Steve, coming closer to the bed to grab his hand. “I didn’t want to lose you, all right? I’ve lost enough of you already. God, that sounds stupid. I swear I’m not usually this stupid. I’m a genius, did you know?”
“I did,” Steve says, barely managing to get it out. This is a lot to process. He’s not really sure what Tony’s trying to tell him. He’s not sure what it all means. “So you were worried about me?” That seems a safe thing to ask.
Tony sighs, rolls his eyes, but Steve knows it’s an affectionate sort of thing. He’s not being truly patronizing. Hopefully. He doesn’t really have much time to ponder it, though, because Tony leans down, takes Steve’s face in his hand and kisses him.
All at once, everything Steve has ever felt makes sense. He realizes that’s a stupid, cliched way to feel, but he knows that he and Tony have been on the edge of something most of their lives and this is it. It makes sense. It makes so much sense. Unfortunately, in the time it takes Steve to have this realization, Tony stops kissing him, and that’s not okay.
“Am I wrong here?” Tony asks, brow furrowed and that’s genuine worry in his eyes that Steve can see.
“I don’t think you are,” Steve says, reaching out to grasp the collar of Tony’s wrinkled button-down. He pulls Tony close, presses their foreheads together for a moment and then kisses him again. It’s so much better when Steve’s not thinking about the past and all the time they wasted and is instead just kissing-- running his hand into Tony’s hair, pushing his tongue into Tony’s mouth and scraping his teeth along Tony’s lower lip.
Tony makes a noise against his mouth and pulls away, breathing hard. Steve can see some pink, high on his cheeks and feels ridiculously satisfied. “Okay, we need to stop.”
“I don’t want to,” Steve says, pulling him in again and it’s a few moments before Tony wrenches himself free.
“No, if we start again, I’m not stopping and I can’t-- I have to do this right, Steve.” He puts a hand on Steve’s chest, slides it up to cup his neck and run his thumb over Steve’s jaw. “You’re too important. I can’t screw it up.”
Steve presses his lips together and meets Tony’s gaze. This is a lot to hear in a hospital bed after a near-death experience. His life still feels like one of those awful movies Natasha watches. Or maybe a tragic romance novel.
Except, with the way Tony’s looking at him, he can’t imagine this can turn out awfully. Well, no, he can, but he’s ignoring it. They can work through those issues later, but right now, Steve’s okay with this. He scoots over in the tiny hospital bed and pats the empty space. Tony climbs in and settles himself next to Steve.
For the time being, it’s where they’re both meant to be, and Steve knows that things may change, but things are always changing. It’s not always a bad thing. He knows they’ll cross those bridges when they come to them.