Why Then Oh Why Can't I? (Part 5 of 6)
Title: Why Then Oh Why Can't I? (or, 5 Times Steve Rogers Felt Awkward Talking About Sex, and One Time He Stopped Talking Altogether)
Author:
ladyblahblah
Fandom: Captain America, The Avengers
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Jarvis, Tony Stark
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Clearly I own none of this. I can't even imagine a world in which I would be able to make any profit off of something like this. I have nothing, and make no claim to anything but the story itself and the OCs. Please don't sue me. Pretty please.
Summary: “You really never did grow up all the way, did you, Steve? Of course it changes things. But hey.” He lifts his glass, and Steve reluctantly lets go to join in the toast. “Who says change has to be bad?”
Author's Note: A brief word of warning: given Steve's canonical and fairly devout Christianity, there is mention of it here. Hopefully it comes across as slightly less awkward than it did in The Avengers (sorry, probably my least favorite line in the movie). There's also quite a bit of Steve awkwardly trying to articulate his feelings, and some drive-by Tony!feels. Their conversation will probably make a lot more sense if you've seen Iron Man 2, actually, so . . . there's that. XD Also, for the record, I have helplessly adopted this headcanon as my own, and you may note that it makes a brief appearance here. (I have also added something of my own in there, shhhh.)
5. Tony
“So, how's it looking so far?” Bucky hops down from the stool and grabs his shirt. “Do I get to see it yet?”
“It's still only sketches,” Steve says absently, looking up to see his friend tugging his t-shirt on over his head. “I, uh.” He tries with no success to tear his eyes away from the sight of bare skin disappearing beneath worn cotton. “I ought to have enough to go on, though. I'll pick a pose from these, and we'll block it onto the canvas tomorrow.”
“Godaire wants me to go in for more tests tomorrow, actually.” Bucky heads for the door, and Steve quickly stands to follow him. “If it goes anything like last week, they'll take most of the day. I can come by on Friday, though.”
“Okay. Yeah, that's fine.” Steve is embarrassed by his own childlike disappointment; after all, it won't kill him to spend a day without his friend's company. “Or,” he hears himself saying, and cringes internally even as he carries on, “if you wanted, you could come over tomorrow night instead. I mean, if you don't have plans already. A . . . date, or anything?”
“No, I'm free as a bird.” Bucky's smile is warm and surprised, and Steve has to steel himself to keep from leaning forward to discover how it tastes. “The light's gonna be different, though; that won't screw things up?”
“I'll just be blocking in the pose; it'll be fine. Mid-mornings will probably be better for the painting itself, if that's okay with your schedule?”
“Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Yeah.” Steve opens his mouth to say . . . something. To ask him to stay; ask him to dinner; ask for a kiss; but what comes out instead is simply, “See you.”
He smiles cheerfully until the elevator doors have closed; then he leans forward to press his forehead against the cold, smooth metal, lifting up briefly just to let his head fall forward and connect again with a loud thunk. He stands like that for several long moments before he manages to straighten up again. Having Bucky sit for him had seemed like such a good idea at the time; unfortunately, he hadn't quite considered what it would do to his self control to see the other man stripped to the waist in the middle of his apartment every day. It's become a constant struggle to keep his hands to himself-a struggle of which Bucky has seemed to somehow remain cheerfully unaware.
His first order of business is a cold shower. The second is advice.
Steve is already chiding himself as he steps into the elevator. This is a terrible idea, and he knows it, but the sad fact is that he doesn't have a whole lot of options right now. His current methods, such as they are, certainly aren't getting him anywhere, and he needs an outside opinion. And besides, he reminds himself, if Tony's advice is terrible, he doesn't have to take it.
The doors slide open and the air is immediately filled with power chords that don't quite drown out the drone of a high-power drill. Tony's private lab takes up two entire floors of the tower on its own and is impossible to access without clearance from Jarvis, something that Tony ensures is granted only to a select few. All the members of their team have an open invitation to his “clubhouse”, as he calls it, and Steve would be surprised if there's a single square inch of this building where Pepper isn't allowed. Beyond the six of them, however, he doesn't know of a single person who has permission to set foot inside. Granted, that might be because he doesn't tend to visit all that often; noise levels aside, he has a pretty low tolerance for listening to Tony's tech-speak. Not to mention the fact that seeing the other man in the middle of a lab only tends to emphasize Tony's resemblance to his father, a comparison that doesn't sit particularly well with either of them.
He's here now, though, and Steve follows the sounds of drilling until he finds Tony, decked out with safety goggles and a pair of heavy metal-working gloves, surrounded by mountains of mechanical parts that Steve can't begin to recognize. He can see Tony's mouth moving as he issues what are most likely either directions or a volley of curses to one of his robots, but Steve can't actually make out what he's saying.
“Hey.” There's no response. Not surprising; he can barely hear himself. “HEY,” he shouts again, “TONY.” Still nothing. With a sigh, Steve moves to the nearest computer instead. “Jarvis, can you hear me? Can you cut the music for a minute?”
“Certainly, sir.”
The answer rings out even as the music cuts off; Tony, to his credit, manages to hold the drill steady despite his surprise. A moment later he's shut it off and set it aside, and is pulling off his safety glasses as he looks around for the source of the interruption.
“Sorry about that,” Steve says, walking forward. “Didn't mean to startle you.”
“No problem.” Tony's forehead creases. “Don't see you in here very often; is everything okay? We're not like, under attack or anything, are we?” he asks, glancing at the windows as if to confirm that the city's still standing.
“No, nothing like that.” Steve picks up a random bit of machinery, all twisting wires and complicated connections, turning it this way and that as if doing so will give him some sort of clue to what it is. “What are you working on?”
“A new positronic relay system to-” Tony stops, visibly swallowing what he was about to say. “A new suit.”
Steve grins. “It really bugs you to have to cut out all the technobabble, doesn't it?”
“It just makes me feel sorry for you, actually,” Tony shoots back. “You're missing out on the coolest parts.” He heads over to the coffee pot. “Want a cup?”
“Yeah, thanks.” The coffee smells burned and tastes worse; it reminds Steve of the sludge he drank in a dozen different military camps, and he sips at it with an oddly fond sort of disgusted nostalgia. “Wow. This is really terrible.”
“Yeah, well. It gets the job done,” Tony says, swallowing half of his cup in one go and immediately turning to refill it.
“Maybe you ought to ease up a little.” Steve frowns at the dark circles beneath Tony's eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”
Tony just waves a hand as if swatting the question out of the air. “I never sleep when Pepper's not here,” he says dismissively. “Too much to do. Speaking of which-and don't think I'm not thrilled to have you stop by for a visit to all the tech you don't understand, but-why are you here?”
Steve clears his throat and sets down his coffee-nostalgia, after all, will only carry you so far. “I actually. Um. Well, I need some advice.”
“Advice.”
“Yeah.”
“From me?”
Steve smothers a sigh. “That was the general idea, yes.”
“Right.” For a moment Tony simply blinks back at him, and Steve would almost be amused to see him this wrong-footed if he weren't so busy fighting off his own embarrassment. “What kind of advice?”
“Well.” Steve wishes that he hadn't set his mug down after all, as he suddenly doesn't know quite what to do with his hands. He settles for jamming them in his pockets, where at least they'll be out of the way. “Romantic advice.”
Tony's face splits into a grin. “Okay, this is a joke, right?”
“God, I wish,” Steve mutters. “But no.”
“It's not. Well.” Tony clears his throat. “Can I ask you a serious question, then, before you start?”
“I doubt it, but go ahead and give it a shot.”
“Why on earth would you come to me for romantic advice? Sex advice, sure, that makes sense, but romance has never exactly been my forte.”
“I didn't really figure it was,” Steve allows. “But you do have Pepper, so you must at least be doing something right. Besides, I don't think Clint or Natasha's advice would necessarily be any better, I doubt Bruce has even considered a relationship in years, and Pepper's in California right now.”
“So what, I'm your very last choice for this?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Well, good. At least you still have some common sense left.”
“You know what,” Steve says, holding up his hands, “I knew this was a bad idea. I should just-”
“Now hold on, relax.” Tony finishes his coffee and abandons his mug. “C'mon. If you're really serious, then out with it.”
Steve stares at him suspiciously for a moment, but he isn't any more spoiled for choice than he was fifteen minutes ago and he caves in the end.
“All right. I have . . . that is, I've developed . . . damn it.” He sighs, trying to compose his thoughts. “I have this friend. A . . . a male friend. And I've sort of developed . . . feelings for him. Only, no.” Steve begins to pace back and forth, hoping that movement will help him push the words out. “It's more like I've realized that there's more to how I feel about him; how I've felt about him for years, really. Just recently, I found out that he's . . . um . . .” Steve's face is growing warmer by the second; he glances over at Tony and then quickly away again. He clears his throat, searching for the word. “Flexible,” he says at last, blushing even harder. “But even if he is, I don't want him to think that I'm assuming he'd be interested in me just because he's attracted to men, in a general sort of way. I don't even know what his type is. If he even has a type. And, well, I've never actually courted anyone before, and I don't really know what the heck I'm doing, or if I'm doing anything, but I sort of feel like I'm messing it all up anyway and I could just really sort of use some advice.”
He pauses for breath and looks back at Tony, who seems . . . uneasy, which catches Steve by surprise. He has a bare moment to wonder if perhaps the other man isn't as thoroughly modern as he'd have people think, and then Tony is the one clearing his throat as he shifts awkwardly in place.
“Look.” Tony crosses his arms over his chest and immediately uncrosses them again. “It's not that I'm not flattered,” he ays abruptly. “I am. Really, you're a terrific guy; you're very handsome, in an incredibly wholesome, apple-pie sort of way-”
“Wait-”
“-and you're actually pretty fun when you manage to unclench a little-”
“Tony-”
“-maybe, who knows, another time another place; but I sort of have this pretty serious thing going with Pepper, and I-”
“Oh my God, it's not you!” Steve finally shouts, bringing Tony's rambling to a sudden halt.
“It's not?”
“No,” Steve grits out, and to his surprise, Tony frowns.
“Well . . . why not?”
“Oh my God,” Steve groans.
“I mean, I'm a pretty good catch, you know,” Tony goes on, ignoring the way Steve has buried his face in his hands. “I'm a genius, I'm financially solvent, charming, incredibly attractive-”
“I can't do this with you right now.”
“I'm just saying, if you're gonna develop a big gay crush on someone, I really think I'm the clear choice.”
“I don't know why I thought you could be serious about this.” Steve shakes his head with a sigh. He can't even bring himself to be terribly annoyed, because he really ought to have known better; this is just Tony's nature. “I'll let you get back to work.”
He's already turning to go when:
“It's Bucky, right?” Steve stops dead and turns to stare at Tony, whose expression has sobered to something very nearly appropriate. “Don't look so shocked,” he says, picking up the component that Steve had been fiddling with earlier and taking it back to his work table. “You haven't exactly been playing things close to the chest there. He's been over practically every day for the past week and a half, posing for that picture you're doing; if you didn't look so tense all the time I'd have thought you two were already f-uh . . . having relations?” He sends a significant look Steve's way before turning back to his work. “I have to say, though, I'm surprised at how well a good, God-fearing man like yourself is handling this revelation of yours.”
“You know, I've seen a lot of people over the years who call themselves God-fearing,” Steve replies. “A lot of times when they were doing some pretty terrible things. I have to say, condemning a person to Hell just for loving someone . . .” He shakes his head. “Well, that's not the Bible I remember reading.”
“You're sort of freakishly well-adjusted, you know that?” Tony says mildly, but Steve can see genuine surprise in his eyes. “It really didn't give you even a moment's pause?”
“I didn't say that,” Steve admits. “The idea took some . . . adjusting to. But in the end I decided that if I don't think any less of Bucky-or anyone else-for being this way, there was no reason I should think any less of myself.”
“Freakishly well-adjusted,” Tony mutters again. “Still, I suppose that makes sense; after all, I've seen how you look at him.”
“And how's that?”
“Like the world's a better place just for having him in it,” Tony says. “And, more recently,” he adds, “like you're wondering what he looks like naked.”
Steve grins a little despite his embarrassment. “I don't have to wonder; I've seen him naked.”
“And you'd like to see it again, huh?” Tony grins back. “You told him that yet?”
Steve is blushing furiously now. “I can't just-it's not like I just want to-I mean, I do want that, but-”
“Okay, all right, no need to give yourself an aneurysm. Let's maybe back up a step: what have you done?”
“Well. Mainly I've tried, you know . . . courting him,” Steve frowns. “But I don't know if I'm really being clear enough about it, because nothing's really changed. And everything I can think of for us to do are things we always did anyway,” he says helplessly.
“Uh huh.” Tony picks up a delicate-looking device and starts tinkering with the wires. “And I'm guessing you haven't just tried planting on one him? That would probably get your point across pretty well.”
“What? No!” Steve is equal parts horrified at the idea, excited by the thought of it, and horrified again at the fact that it excites him. “That would be . . .” He opens and closes his mouth several times until he finds the right word. “Disrespectful.”
“Right.” Tony's mouth twitches. “I'm also guessing you haven't just sat down and talked to him about this.”
“Well. Um. No.”
“Thought so.” Tony sets the device down again and picks up another. “So what's the problem? Why haven't you made your move yet?”
“I . . . it's like I said: I don't want him to think that he's just . . . convenient.”
“Mmm-hmm. Or, you're just scared.” He holds up a hand before Steve can begin to protest. “Hey, don't get me wrong-it's understandable. It's a big change you're thinking about; he means a lot to you, and you're not sure how he feels, or how it'll change things. Sure, it might go great, but what if it doesn't?” He turns his attention back to the contraption in his hands. “The idea that you might screw up something so important is a scary one. I'd imagine.”
“Thanks,” Steve says dryly, “I feel much better now.”
“Look, the point is, you have two options. Either you can suck it up and deal with the possibility that he might say no, or you can keep things the way they are and deal with the fact that you'll have to see him hooking up with someone else later on. You've gotta decide which is scarier: losing him because you gave it a shot, or because you didn't. Your choice.”
Steve can't think of anything to say to that, and for a moment he simply stares. Tony glances up, then quickly back down at his work.
“Anyway.” He gives a tight, embarrassed shrug. “That sounds like what Pepper would say, and she's usually right about these things, so.”
“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “I think she probably is. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, I really do have work to do.” Tony jerks his head towards the elevator. “Scat.”
“Sure.” Steve shakes his head, amused. “See you later.”
“And hey,” the other man calls absently after him, “the next time you see him, ask him to come in for a diagnostic on his arm. If you're not too busy sticking your tongue down his throat, that is.”
“Can't hear you, Stark,” Steve calls back, grinning to himself as he leaves his friend to his work.
Author:
ladyblahblah
Fandom: Captain America, The Avengers
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Jarvis, Tony Stark
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Clearly I own none of this. I can't even imagine a world in which I would be able to make any profit off of something like this. I have nothing, and make no claim to anything but the story itself and the OCs. Please don't sue me. Pretty please.
Summary: “You really never did grow up all the way, did you, Steve? Of course it changes things. But hey.” He lifts his glass, and Steve reluctantly lets go to join in the toast. “Who says change has to be bad?”
Author's Note: A brief word of warning: given Steve's canonical and fairly devout Christianity, there is mention of it here. Hopefully it comes across as slightly less awkward than it did in The Avengers (sorry, probably my least favorite line in the movie). There's also quite a bit of Steve awkwardly trying to articulate his feelings, and some drive-by Tony!feels. Their conversation will probably make a lot more sense if you've seen Iron Man 2, actually, so . . . there's that. XD Also, for the record, I have helplessly adopted this headcanon as my own, and you may note that it makes a brief appearance here. (I have also added something of my own in there, shhhh.)
5. Tony
“So, how's it looking so far?” Bucky hops down from the stool and grabs his shirt. “Do I get to see it yet?”
“It's still only sketches,” Steve says absently, looking up to see his friend tugging his t-shirt on over his head. “I, uh.” He tries with no success to tear his eyes away from the sight of bare skin disappearing beneath worn cotton. “I ought to have enough to go on, though. I'll pick a pose from these, and we'll block it onto the canvas tomorrow.”
“Godaire wants me to go in for more tests tomorrow, actually.” Bucky heads for the door, and Steve quickly stands to follow him. “If it goes anything like last week, they'll take most of the day. I can come by on Friday, though.”
“Okay. Yeah, that's fine.” Steve is embarrassed by his own childlike disappointment; after all, it won't kill him to spend a day without his friend's company. “Or,” he hears himself saying, and cringes internally even as he carries on, “if you wanted, you could come over tomorrow night instead. I mean, if you don't have plans already. A . . . date, or anything?”
“No, I'm free as a bird.” Bucky's smile is warm and surprised, and Steve has to steel himself to keep from leaning forward to discover how it tastes. “The light's gonna be different, though; that won't screw things up?”
“I'll just be blocking in the pose; it'll be fine. Mid-mornings will probably be better for the painting itself, if that's okay with your schedule?”
“Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Yeah.” Steve opens his mouth to say . . . something. To ask him to stay; ask him to dinner; ask for a kiss; but what comes out instead is simply, “See you.”
He smiles cheerfully until the elevator doors have closed; then he leans forward to press his forehead against the cold, smooth metal, lifting up briefly just to let his head fall forward and connect again with a loud thunk. He stands like that for several long moments before he manages to straighten up again. Having Bucky sit for him had seemed like such a good idea at the time; unfortunately, he hadn't quite considered what it would do to his self control to see the other man stripped to the waist in the middle of his apartment every day. It's become a constant struggle to keep his hands to himself-a struggle of which Bucky has seemed to somehow remain cheerfully unaware.
His first order of business is a cold shower. The second is advice.
Steve is already chiding himself as he steps into the elevator. This is a terrible idea, and he knows it, but the sad fact is that he doesn't have a whole lot of options right now. His current methods, such as they are, certainly aren't getting him anywhere, and he needs an outside opinion. And besides, he reminds himself, if Tony's advice is terrible, he doesn't have to take it.
The doors slide open and the air is immediately filled with power chords that don't quite drown out the drone of a high-power drill. Tony's private lab takes up two entire floors of the tower on its own and is impossible to access without clearance from Jarvis, something that Tony ensures is granted only to a select few. All the members of their team have an open invitation to his “clubhouse”, as he calls it, and Steve would be surprised if there's a single square inch of this building where Pepper isn't allowed. Beyond the six of them, however, he doesn't know of a single person who has permission to set foot inside. Granted, that might be because he doesn't tend to visit all that often; noise levels aside, he has a pretty low tolerance for listening to Tony's tech-speak. Not to mention the fact that seeing the other man in the middle of a lab only tends to emphasize Tony's resemblance to his father, a comparison that doesn't sit particularly well with either of them.
He's here now, though, and Steve follows the sounds of drilling until he finds Tony, decked out with safety goggles and a pair of heavy metal-working gloves, surrounded by mountains of mechanical parts that Steve can't begin to recognize. He can see Tony's mouth moving as he issues what are most likely either directions or a volley of curses to one of his robots, but Steve can't actually make out what he's saying.
“Hey.” There's no response. Not surprising; he can barely hear himself. “HEY,” he shouts again, “TONY.” Still nothing. With a sigh, Steve moves to the nearest computer instead. “Jarvis, can you hear me? Can you cut the music for a minute?”
“Certainly, sir.”
The answer rings out even as the music cuts off; Tony, to his credit, manages to hold the drill steady despite his surprise. A moment later he's shut it off and set it aside, and is pulling off his safety glasses as he looks around for the source of the interruption.
“Sorry about that,” Steve says, walking forward. “Didn't mean to startle you.”
“No problem.” Tony's forehead creases. “Don't see you in here very often; is everything okay? We're not like, under attack or anything, are we?” he asks, glancing at the windows as if to confirm that the city's still standing.
“No, nothing like that.” Steve picks up a random bit of machinery, all twisting wires and complicated connections, turning it this way and that as if doing so will give him some sort of clue to what it is. “What are you working on?”
“A new positronic relay system to-” Tony stops, visibly swallowing what he was about to say. “A new suit.”
Steve grins. “It really bugs you to have to cut out all the technobabble, doesn't it?”
“It just makes me feel sorry for you, actually,” Tony shoots back. “You're missing out on the coolest parts.” He heads over to the coffee pot. “Want a cup?”
“Yeah, thanks.” The coffee smells burned and tastes worse; it reminds Steve of the sludge he drank in a dozen different military camps, and he sips at it with an oddly fond sort of disgusted nostalgia. “Wow. This is really terrible.”
“Yeah, well. It gets the job done,” Tony says, swallowing half of his cup in one go and immediately turning to refill it.
“Maybe you ought to ease up a little.” Steve frowns at the dark circles beneath Tony's eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”
Tony just waves a hand as if swatting the question out of the air. “I never sleep when Pepper's not here,” he says dismissively. “Too much to do. Speaking of which-and don't think I'm not thrilled to have you stop by for a visit to all the tech you don't understand, but-why are you here?”
Steve clears his throat and sets down his coffee-nostalgia, after all, will only carry you so far. “I actually. Um. Well, I need some advice.”
“Advice.”
“Yeah.”
“From me?”
Steve smothers a sigh. “That was the general idea, yes.”
“Right.” For a moment Tony simply blinks back at him, and Steve would almost be amused to see him this wrong-footed if he weren't so busy fighting off his own embarrassment. “What kind of advice?”
“Well.” Steve wishes that he hadn't set his mug down after all, as he suddenly doesn't know quite what to do with his hands. He settles for jamming them in his pockets, where at least they'll be out of the way. “Romantic advice.”
Tony's face splits into a grin. “Okay, this is a joke, right?”
“God, I wish,” Steve mutters. “But no.”
“It's not. Well.” Tony clears his throat. “Can I ask you a serious question, then, before you start?”
“I doubt it, but go ahead and give it a shot.”
“Why on earth would you come to me for romantic advice? Sex advice, sure, that makes sense, but romance has never exactly been my forte.”
“I didn't really figure it was,” Steve allows. “But you do have Pepper, so you must at least be doing something right. Besides, I don't think Clint or Natasha's advice would necessarily be any better, I doubt Bruce has even considered a relationship in years, and Pepper's in California right now.”
“So what, I'm your very last choice for this?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Well, good. At least you still have some common sense left.”
“You know what,” Steve says, holding up his hands, “I knew this was a bad idea. I should just-”
“Now hold on, relax.” Tony finishes his coffee and abandons his mug. “C'mon. If you're really serious, then out with it.”
Steve stares at him suspiciously for a moment, but he isn't any more spoiled for choice than he was fifteen minutes ago and he caves in the end.
“All right. I have . . . that is, I've developed . . . damn it.” He sighs, trying to compose his thoughts. “I have this friend. A . . . a male friend. And I've sort of developed . . . feelings for him. Only, no.” Steve begins to pace back and forth, hoping that movement will help him push the words out. “It's more like I've realized that there's more to how I feel about him; how I've felt about him for years, really. Just recently, I found out that he's . . . um . . .” Steve's face is growing warmer by the second; he glances over at Tony and then quickly away again. He clears his throat, searching for the word. “Flexible,” he says at last, blushing even harder. “But even if he is, I don't want him to think that I'm assuming he'd be interested in me just because he's attracted to men, in a general sort of way. I don't even know what his type is. If he even has a type. And, well, I've never actually courted anyone before, and I don't really know what the heck I'm doing, or if I'm doing anything, but I sort of feel like I'm messing it all up anyway and I could just really sort of use some advice.”
He pauses for breath and looks back at Tony, who seems . . . uneasy, which catches Steve by surprise. He has a bare moment to wonder if perhaps the other man isn't as thoroughly modern as he'd have people think, and then Tony is the one clearing his throat as he shifts awkwardly in place.
“Look.” Tony crosses his arms over his chest and immediately uncrosses them again. “It's not that I'm not flattered,” he ays abruptly. “I am. Really, you're a terrific guy; you're very handsome, in an incredibly wholesome, apple-pie sort of way-”
“Wait-”
“-and you're actually pretty fun when you manage to unclench a little-”
“Tony-”
“-maybe, who knows, another time another place; but I sort of have this pretty serious thing going with Pepper, and I-”
“Oh my God, it's not you!” Steve finally shouts, bringing Tony's rambling to a sudden halt.
“It's not?”
“No,” Steve grits out, and to his surprise, Tony frowns.
“Well . . . why not?”
“Oh my God,” Steve groans.
“I mean, I'm a pretty good catch, you know,” Tony goes on, ignoring the way Steve has buried his face in his hands. “I'm a genius, I'm financially solvent, charming, incredibly attractive-”
“I can't do this with you right now.”
“I'm just saying, if you're gonna develop a big gay crush on someone, I really think I'm the clear choice.”
“I don't know why I thought you could be serious about this.” Steve shakes his head with a sigh. He can't even bring himself to be terribly annoyed, because he really ought to have known better; this is just Tony's nature. “I'll let you get back to work.”
He's already turning to go when:
“It's Bucky, right?” Steve stops dead and turns to stare at Tony, whose expression has sobered to something very nearly appropriate. “Don't look so shocked,” he says, picking up the component that Steve had been fiddling with earlier and taking it back to his work table. “You haven't exactly been playing things close to the chest there. He's been over practically every day for the past week and a half, posing for that picture you're doing; if you didn't look so tense all the time I'd have thought you two were already f-uh . . . having relations?” He sends a significant look Steve's way before turning back to his work. “I have to say, though, I'm surprised at how well a good, God-fearing man like yourself is handling this revelation of yours.”
“You know, I've seen a lot of people over the years who call themselves God-fearing,” Steve replies. “A lot of times when they were doing some pretty terrible things. I have to say, condemning a person to Hell just for loving someone . . .” He shakes his head. “Well, that's not the Bible I remember reading.”
“You're sort of freakishly well-adjusted, you know that?” Tony says mildly, but Steve can see genuine surprise in his eyes. “It really didn't give you even a moment's pause?”
“I didn't say that,” Steve admits. “The idea took some . . . adjusting to. But in the end I decided that if I don't think any less of Bucky-or anyone else-for being this way, there was no reason I should think any less of myself.”
“Freakishly well-adjusted,” Tony mutters again. “Still, I suppose that makes sense; after all, I've seen how you look at him.”
“And how's that?”
“Like the world's a better place just for having him in it,” Tony says. “And, more recently,” he adds, “like you're wondering what he looks like naked.”
Steve grins a little despite his embarrassment. “I don't have to wonder; I've seen him naked.”
“And you'd like to see it again, huh?” Tony grins back. “You told him that yet?”
Steve is blushing furiously now. “I can't just-it's not like I just want to-I mean, I do want that, but-”
“Okay, all right, no need to give yourself an aneurysm. Let's maybe back up a step: what have you done?”
“Well. Mainly I've tried, you know . . . courting him,” Steve frowns. “But I don't know if I'm really being clear enough about it, because nothing's really changed. And everything I can think of for us to do are things we always did anyway,” he says helplessly.
“Uh huh.” Tony picks up a delicate-looking device and starts tinkering with the wires. “And I'm guessing you haven't just tried planting on one him? That would probably get your point across pretty well.”
“What? No!” Steve is equal parts horrified at the idea, excited by the thought of it, and horrified again at the fact that it excites him. “That would be . . .” He opens and closes his mouth several times until he finds the right word. “Disrespectful.”
“Right.” Tony's mouth twitches. “I'm also guessing you haven't just sat down and talked to him about this.”
“Well. Um. No.”
“Thought so.” Tony sets the device down again and picks up another. “So what's the problem? Why haven't you made your move yet?”
“I . . . it's like I said: I don't want him to think that he's just . . . convenient.”
“Mmm-hmm. Or, you're just scared.” He holds up a hand before Steve can begin to protest. “Hey, don't get me wrong-it's understandable. It's a big change you're thinking about; he means a lot to you, and you're not sure how he feels, or how it'll change things. Sure, it might go great, but what if it doesn't?” He turns his attention back to the contraption in his hands. “The idea that you might screw up something so important is a scary one. I'd imagine.”
“Thanks,” Steve says dryly, “I feel much better now.”
“Look, the point is, you have two options. Either you can suck it up and deal with the possibility that he might say no, or you can keep things the way they are and deal with the fact that you'll have to see him hooking up with someone else later on. You've gotta decide which is scarier: losing him because you gave it a shot, or because you didn't. Your choice.”
Steve can't think of anything to say to that, and for a moment he simply stares. Tony glances up, then quickly back down at his work.
“Anyway.” He gives a tight, embarrassed shrug. “That sounds like what Pepper would say, and she's usually right about these things, so.”
“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “I think she probably is. Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, I really do have work to do.” Tony jerks his head towards the elevator. “Scat.”
“Sure.” Steve shakes his head, amused. “See you later.”
“And hey,” the other man calls absently after him, “the next time you see him, ask him to come in for a diagnostic on his arm. If you're not too busy sticking your tongue down his throat, that is.”
“Can't hear you, Stark,” Steve calls back, grinning to himself as he leaves his friend to his work.