Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony watched absently as his mother brushed his hair, sighing softly as his unruly locks refused to comport themselves to her will. In the end, she doused his head in half a bottle of hairspray, pressed hard on his wild mane, and nodded in satisfaction when it finally stayed. 

Maybe Dad was right. A firm hand was just what he needed to fall in line.

She dabbed some concealer lightly over his cheekbone, attempting to mask a bruise, by then a faded yellow-brown.

It had been worth a shot, speaking up before forever holding his peace. What was a blow to the head compared to a lifetime of indentured servitude? He’d debated, argued, then begged. Before slamming the table and raising his voice, prompting his father to raise his hand.

It was for his own good. Howard said. Like everything else he'd ever done for him. Striking him was for his own good too. So, why then, did he almost seem to feel bad about it, eyes red and face pale as he looked him over to see the damage he’d caused?

Tony ached for his dad to take him into his arms, but he soon remembered how the same arms were about to cast him out, into the hands of a complete stranger.

I hate you. He cried, the words of a wounded heart yearning for acceptance, affection and maybe love. 

“Does it still hurt?” his mom asked, pausing to look at him closely.

“No,” he told her, putting on a brave smile. It couldn't hurt when he was almost dead inside.

She nodded, tightening the bowtie around his collar, like a noose around the neck, sealing his fate.  

“Captain Rogers is a good man. He’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah.”

Standing, he allowed her to help him into his black jacket, meant to protect him from the elements that chilly, autumn evening. It was just too bad the cold was on the inside. 

“You look nice,” she said, trying her best to sound cheerful. “I'm going to miss you."

"Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her softly on her cheek, just before Jarvis arrived to take him to the entrance of the church, where their guests had gathered.

His father was already waiting, looking excited and eager to give him away. He offered Tony his arm and a soft smile, both of which he gratefully accepted. Affection was a currency his dad was stingy with and over the years, Tony had learnt to be thankful for the scraps.

He looked up at the heavy church doors staring him down, judging his worth as they slowly opened, their hinges whining in protest of the impending ceremony and the countless ones preceding it.

He barely noticed the soft music above the beating of his heart. He tried to remember his mother’s instructions. Back straight. Chin up. Smile.

He was going to do this.

Captain Rogers gave him a small smile as their eyes met so Tony returned it. Maybe life would be okay if his husband liked him.

Was there an alternate universe where he could have been happy about this?

It wasn't so long ago when the captain was a figure he read about in History books. He even did a project about him. He knew about his childhood struggles, the serum, the Howling Commandos, his battles with Hydra and finally, his death.

Except he hadn't died. He was very much alive and about to marry him.

Like Howard, Tony was more than a little obsessed. He kept his posters and a complete collection of his cards. They were mint. Was it impertinent to ask him to autograph them, now that they were about to be married?

Tony was thrilled when they found Captain America, alive no less, in the ice. Like everyone else, Tony thought he would jump right back into the military, follow orders, serve.

It seemed like it wasn't so easy adjusting to life forty years in the future. While the captain slept, the world spun on and the ones he loved had moved on with their lives. He laid down his life to save millions only to find out the war wasn’t over. Add that to a healthy dose of post-traumatic stress disorder and depression and the nation had a super (unbalanced) soldier on their hands.

What did the country do with unstable alpha heroes? They gave them volatile omegas to make them happy. Tony would have laughed, if he hadn't been too busy being horrified, when he first heard of his father’s plans to marry him to Captain Rogers. He was supposed to help! Do his part for the country like a war prize.

Tony tried to remember the last time his father looked at him the way he was looking at the captain. Howard’s shining eyes when he made his first circuit board and his first engine. Dad's bright smile after he’d successfully taught Tony to use a welding iron. When Tony received an award from M.I.T for his robot design, he was in the front row applauding his achievement.

All he seemed to do after his body betrayed him was to disappoint his dad. Tony let out a sigh, resigned to his fate. If he couldn’t be the son Howard desired, he was at least giving him a son-in-law to be proud of.

Tony stole a quick glance as the captain recited his vows, promising to love, cherish and protect him. In response, Tony vowed to love, respect and trust him. Tony didn’t write the vows. He just had to repeat them after the minister.

Tony studied the wedding band on his shaking hands. He was good with his hands. He’d use them to make their meals, keep their home clean. Their guests stood up, applauding. He waved, happiness out of his hands. For now. He would hold his head up and smile. Smile through his fear and his pain.

And maybe, one day, it would be real.

Chapter Text

Dread pooled in Tony’s stomach as Happy pulled out of the driveway, leaving him in front of his new home with his new husband. Tony had rehearsed his responses to 14,000,605 possible scenarios, so why did he still feel so unprepared for their first interaction as a married couple?

He barely spoke to Captain Rogers all day. Conversation in the car was minimal and Tony’s eyes were steadfastly riveted to the changing sights outside his window. But there was no avoiding the unavoidable now.

The captain cleared his throat. “I hope the house is okay. I haven’t had much time to work on it, with the wedding taking place so quickly. And I thought you might want to see to the decorating yourself.”

Tony nodded. He’d done an elective on interior decorating at the finishing school his parents had made him attend. He could decorate their home.

The captain stepped aside, inviting Tony to enter the house before him. At least he didn’t try to carry Tony over the threshold, driving home the fact that he was being married against his will.

Tony blinked at the simple, clean lines. Utilitarian. White walls, white flooring, white furniture, white sheets. A blank canvas on which to paint their new lives.

“You probably know this place better than I do. But I’ll give you a tour all the same,” Captain Rogers said as he took them further inside.

They began from the first floor and worked their way up to the third, where the bedrooms were located.

“This is my bedroom,” the captain explained, pointing to one of many white doors. “And you can have any other one you like.”

Tony’s brows shot up. “We- we’re not sleeping together?” Ugh. He cringed, instantly regretting his stupid-ass decision to open his mouth.

"I - uh - I don’t think we’re ready for that,” the captain mumbled, colouring slightly around the ears.

“Uh- You know I’m like a sure thing, don’t you?” he tried, feeling his way around this strange, new situation.

“I'm not sure what you mean. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

Okay. This was definitely a test. And he was going to pass with flying colours. “Why wouldn’t I want to?” Tony asked, choosing his words carefully. “We're married. You’re my alpha. I’m obliged, bound by the law even, to do whatever you want.”

The captain sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can we keep this conversation for tomorrow? It’s very late and there is so much we need to talk about."

“Yes, Alpha,” he mumbled, watching his husband’s response closely through his lowered eyelashes.

Dilated pupils. Flushed cheeks. A sharp intake of breath. “Oh. Anthony. Just Steve is fine,” he said, looking as though he was about to faint.

“Okay. Steve. Just Tony is fine," he echoed.

When he looked up, he noticed Steve staring at his cheek. “Hey - " he asked softly. "What happened to your face?”

Tony took a deep breath. The concealer must have rubbed off. 24-hour coverage was such a lie. “Uh- I may have kind of- well not kind of- I didn't want to do as Dad asked.”

“What was it?” he asked, inching forward to get a better look.

Tony looked incredulously at him. Aunt Peggy had been full of praise for the captain's situational awareness. Did he really need him to spell it out? “It doesn't matter, at least not anymore. It’s done,” he mumbled.

The blood drained from the Steve's face and he looked like he was about to throw up. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I was told you wanted this. I - I didn’t know.”

Tony stepped backwards as Steve reached for him, as if he wanted to rub the bruise out. As if he could rub out the ink on the papers they had signed. Maybe that’s how it worked for super soldiers, but Tony’s experience was different. Even when marks faded, scars remained. And the pain never went away.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. No need to lose any sleep over it,” Tony mumbled with as much nonchalance as he could. “Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve got the hint, keeping his distance. “Goodnight, Tony," he said. "And I'm sorry. I really am,” he added.

Tony nodded, acknowledging the alpha’s sincere but futile apology, before shutting his door for the night.

***

Tony sat on the ground, back against his bedroom door the moment it closed. He forced himself to take deep breaths to slow the furious beating of his heart.

Captain Rogers, or Steve, seemed nice, much nicer than in any of the scenarios Tony had imagined. He hadn't forced Tony to do anything so far. And he seemed genuinely upset when he found out that Tony had not been a willing participant in this marriage.

Tony had mentally and physically prepared himself for the worst-case scenario – an overbearing alpha who wanted to dominate and control. Now that that wasn’t happening, he had to come up with a new plan.

But first, he had to unpack his belongings into his new (and old) home. It was nice of his parents to gift the house, Tony’s childhood home, to them. Tony shuddered at the thought of moving to the Avengers Tower, overcrowded with alphas and their stinking pheromones. If he was going to be a prisoner, at least he was going to be in a really comfortable cell.

Tony unzipped his bag, grateful to Jarvis for taking care of the packing while he moped all week. He made quick work of hanging up his band T-shirts and jeans. The butler had also packed his personal mementos and Tony swallowed a painful lump as he spotted his class ring among his possessions.

He fingered the carving of the beaver, MIT’s mascot, recalling the words the president had spoken before the presentation ceremony.

Of all the animals in the world, the beaver is noted for his engineering and mechanical skill and habits of industry. His habits are nocturnal. He does his best work in the dark.

He supposed he was fortunate to have had a college education at all, skipping grades so he could enrol at 15 and graduate at 18, just before his first heat. Not that it mattered in the end. He lost everything the moment he presented.

He snapped the lid shut, carefully tucking the box in one of his drawers. That was all in the past. He had new jewellery for his new life now.

***

Tony’s plan for his first day as a married man was to stay in his room as long as he possibly could, delaying the inevitable meeting with his husband. But his treasonous mind wouldn’t stop thinking of the pop-tarts he’d seen in the larder. And his traitorous stomach convinced him that raiding said larder was necessary to his survival.

Tiptoeing towards the stairs, Tony noticed his husband wasn’t in his room. Further patrols informed him that Steve wasn’t in the house. This meant that deep reconnaissance was now possible, especially in the kitchen. During their tour, Steve told Tony to help himself to anything he wanted in the kitchen. So Tony decided to do just that. Dad would be proud. He was doing so well at following orders.

Tony was going to make himself pancakes. Then he decided to make some for Steve. It was the polite and practical thing to do. Steve wasn’t the enemy but a potential ally. Tony flipped the blueberry pancakes over a heated pan till they were golden brown. And then, he’d plated them with honey, lots of cream and the finesse of a dessert chef.

“I’m the best,” he declared, laying his finished work on the table with a flourish.

Tony jumped when he finally noticed his husband standing in the doorway wearing a look of amusement and a T-shirt at least two sizes too small for his large frame.

“Sorry about that,” Steve began, sheepishly running his fingers through his soft, blonde hair.

"Hi," he greeted nervously. "Were you out?” he added, stealing a quick look. 200 pounds of alpha was in the way, glowing with perspiration against the morning sun.

“Yeah. I’ve been running," he said. "Did thirteen miles in thirty minutes because I had a late start.”

Tony grimaced. It sounded like torture. He preferred to start his days with something a little more sweet.

“I’ve been making pancakes, for us. Do you want to have some? With me?” It's a peace offering. A tribute. One that Steve accepted with a huge smile.

Shovelling spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, compliments were heaped on Tony's culinary skills. And he revelled in the happy alpha scent that was filling the room. He did a good thing. Alpha was happy. And it was making him happy too.

What was wrong with him? One night of being married and already he was turning into a happy housewife.

“This is my favourite food,” Steve said, deciding to begin with the small talk.

“I know,” Tony said, a little too quickly.

Steve raised a brow, waiting for Tony to elaborate.

“I did a history project about you. Your mother’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes. And - you love pancakes.”

“That is - very impressive,” he said, slightly awed and very amused that Tony had been privy to such information.  

“Yup, I was thorough," he said, eyes flicking upwards for a quick second. "What about you? Know anything about me?” he asked, curious about what the captain had heard before agreeing to this marriage.

Steve paused to wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I know a little bit from your profile, the one on-”

The omega registry. Jarvis had filled it out for him, even made him take a picture.

Tony shifted forward in his seat, curious. “For the record, I didn’t write it. What did it say about me?”

“It had your picture, information about your favourite films, music, food…”

Oh.

“So that's why you have pop-tarts in your larder,” he deduced.

“That's why we have pop-tarts in our larder,” Steve corrected.

“And what else?” Tony pressed.

“And burger patties, pepperoni, doughnut - ”

“I mean- what else was on my profile?”

Steve hesitated. “You - uh - display compulsive behaviour, you’re prone to destructive tendencies and yeah - you’ve got textbook narcissism.”

Tony laughed at Jarvis's attempt to delay the inevitable by presenting him as a troublemaker. “Do you agree?” he asked, curious about the sort of impression he'd made.

Steve shrugged, and then said, “I just see a boy who wants to be loved.”

It's a bold statement. And Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “A boy who wants to be loved. You don’t know. Anything. About. Me.”

“I’d like to - I'd like to - get to know you," Steve said. "I’m aware we didn’t get married under the most ideal circumstances.”

That was one way of putting it. “Ideally, what would we have done?” he asked, curious about how people in Steve's time used to go about doing things.

“I'd have courted you properly," Steve said slowly, "Given us to chance to know each other. For you - ah - us to be sure before asking for your hand.”

Tony approved. That sounded nice. He'd probably say yes to someone who looked and smelled like Steve. He just hated how he'd been robbed of his choice.

“Yeah. Well. Tony, if you want, we can file an annulment,“ Steve offered, filling in the awkward silence. "But only if it’s what you want,” he added, softly.

Steve was offering him an out. Tony could go home and live under his parents’ roof, continue to attend his finishing classes. Advanced Floral Arrangement? Advanced Party Planning? Basics of Childcare? While he waited for another alpha to take him off the shelf. Someone who might hurt him. Someone who wouldn’t look amazing in small clothes. Someone who wouldn’t smell like blueberry pancakes. One of Dad’s friends. Someone like Obadiah Stane. Or Alexander Pierce.

But Tony had to get the routine questions out of the way. “You don’t happen to have dead bodies or a dungeon in your basement by any chance, do you?”

“Pretty sure that’s a no,” Steve confirmed.

“Then I think I'll take my chances," he decided. "With you.”

Steve let out a soft sigh, as his features relaxed into a small smile. “That’s great. I’m so glad. Tony, thank you for giving me a chance.”

“You doing anything fun this Saturday night?” Tony asked. If they were going to stay married, they might as well do it right. Didn't matter if it was backwards.

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are in retirement homes," Steve said. "So, no, not really.”

“Do something fun with me?” he asked. He's been cooped up at home for so long. He could very well do with a night out.

“Courting stuff?” Steve asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“Courting stuff,” Tony said, offering the man the tiniest hint of a smile.

"I'd love that,” Steve said, smiling brightly back.

And when Steve held up his empty plate and shyly asked him for more, Tony thought that maybe they were going to be okay after all. 

Chapter Text

Tony cursed his hands and their inability to leave things alone. It was supposed to be a quick fix. But he’d bitten off more than he could chew. And in this case, broken it too.

Things had been going well with Steve, who turned out to be so liberal that Tony had to get used to his newfound freedom. While Steve went to work, he urged Tony to go on little shopping trips (with Happy). He even gave Tony a card with a ridiculously high credit limit and told him to buy whatever he liked.

Tony bought things for their home: cushions, tablecloths, picture frames. He got himself books he’d been wanting but didn't want to ask his parents for. And because they were on Steve’s list (of pop culture things to catch up on), Tony got him videotapes of the Star Wars trilogy and the Troubleman soundtrack.

And sometimes, when Tony was feeling a little bold, he would slip in the odd item he really wanted. He hated himself for taking advantage of Steve’s kindness. But the temptation was just too great to resist.

It started when he casually placed a set of screwdrivers in his basket while buying table linens at Target. Then, he bought a utility knife and a saw from Costco. He picked up a tape measure and some clamps from Walmart. He always purchased from large stores, so Steve couldn’t tell what he’d bought from the credit card statement. And he never bought them all at once.

Happy knew what Tony was doing, of course. But he’d known Tony since he was a boy. He’d never sell him out to Steve. Neither would he attempt to stop him. And with the tools he’d slowly put together and kept hidden in his closet, Tony began working on his own super-secret projects whenever Steve left the home for extended periods of time.

Steve had been so nice to him. So, he was trying to be nice in return. He just wanted Steve to be happy and Steve was not happy with the turntable he owned. It wouldn’t spin smoothly, intermittently slowing down and sometimes coming to a complete stop.

Tony suspected an issue with the motor connected to the drive belt so he took the turntable apart to confirm that. After removing debris from the motor and replacing the belt, which he'd picked up on the last shopping trip, he cleaned the other components with a rag and some rubbing alcohol. But in his excitement to reassemble the device, he dropped the stylus, which snapped at a weak point upon contact with the ground.

Tony panicked at the sight of the broken stylus in his hands. Steve hadn’t given him permission to touch his turntable. But he also hadn’t forbidden him from touching it. Still, he didn’t want to explain what he was trying to do. He didn’t want to tell Steve about his tinkering and his precious toolbox. He wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

He could order a new stylus but it would take at least two weeks to be delivered. He could custom make one with the right materials and tools. But no one, not even Tony, could do that in ten minutes, which was the time he had left before Steve was due to be home.

Tony wondered how mad Steve was going to be. Steve was always nice to him, very patient and sweet, but he had to have a dark side. Everyone did. So maybe Tony just hadn’t seen it yet.

Tony would have to be honest about what he’d done, face the music (or the lack of) and accept the consequences, whatever they were. But this wasn’t just about Tony’s fear of correction. He just really didn’t want Steve to be upset with him.

“I’m sorry,” he began, once he heard footsteps approaching. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

“What are we talking about?” Steve asked, lips quirking upwards despite the weariness in his eyes.

He followed Tony towards the dining table, where the parts of the turntable were laid out. “Ah. I see. You broke the stylus.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I really am -” Tony apologised, refusing to look at him.

“Come here,” he asked, voice soft.

Tony wanted to comply with the words. He was a good husband. He really was. But his terrified legs developed a mind of their own, and were rooted to the spot. Tony tensed as he heard Steve moving closer. “Hey. Look at me.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look into his husband's eyes so he settled for his jawline, now covered in a five o’ clock shadow. Steve didn’t smell angry. Sometimes, Howard didn’t smell angry. He just reeked of disappointment and sadness. But Steve didn’t smell like that either.

“Tony, I know you didn’t mean to break it,” he said.

“But I did. I shouldn’t have touched. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are. It will be all right. Wait here for me.”

Tony watched as Steve left. Yes, he had to get changed first. Get comfortable. Fetch his belt or whatever he needed. The belt wasn’t so bad.

Tony took a deep breath. It would be okay. Howard was always nice to him after. He’d hold him until the tears stopped. That’s what alphas did. They disciplined you, then comforted you. Then Tony would be forgiven. And everything would be all right.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve sighed at the sight of his pale face and rigid posture.

“Are we going to do anything? Because if it's all the same to you, I'd rather do it now.”

“I'm not upset, Tony," he said, placing his hand gently on Tony's back. "You were just trying to help. Like you did with my watch and the washing machine.”

Tony gasped, “You- you know.”

“Yes. I was very impressed. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“From before – From Dad. School. My books. Sometimes just figuring it out. I know I shouldn’t. But I do. I can’t help it. I hate it when things don’t work. I have to fix them. It's like a disease. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

“Who is asking you to stop?” 

“Dad and Mom, mostly. I'm supposed to do other things - cooking, cleaning sorts of things.”

“You don’t live with your parents anymore. I don’t think anyone but we should decide what we do in our home. So, fix whatever you want. Build whatever you like. I just want you to be happy with m- here."

“You're going to let me?"  he asked, his voice small and hopeful.

“Yes," Steve told him. " You know, I was going to wait till it was completely ready but this feels like a good moment.”

“A good moment for what?” he asked, flummoxed. 

“To take you to our basement. You’re not the only one with secrets, he said, showing Tony the key in his hand.

Tony’s eyes grew large. The dungeon basement was the one place in their home which Steve had politely asked Tony to stay away from. Tony tried to go in once, when Steve wasn’t home, but found it locked. With all the secrets he was keeping from Steve, he decided that it was only fair for Steve to have some of his own. But Steve was going to unlock it for him now.

He took the hand Steve offered and they made their way down the stairs. Tony’s mind whirled with the possibilities. He figured it was a home office for Steve to do his super-secret administrative work as that’s where he seemed to receive his visitors. Or maybe an art studio for him to work on his paintings.

Tony blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness as the lights flickered on. Shelves. A couple of large tables. Was that a saw table? A puttering bench? A computer? Power tools? Welding gear? A soldering station? What was Steve trying to do here? It wasn’t a home office. Or an art studio.

It was a workshop.

It had always been a workshop. Tony had fond memories of his father at work in this very room. Howard would describe to Tony what he was doing as he tinkered. He’d let Tony help with little tasks. His mother had to bring them drinks and snacks because they wouldn't leave for hours at a time.

It had a more modern look to it now. Steve had refurbished it with a coat of new paint, new furniture and tools. And it looked beautiful.

“Well?” Steve finally asked, as the silence dragged on.

“I didn’t know you liked engineering.”

Steve laughed.

“I don’t. It’s for you, Tony. A space for you to do whatever it is you do. I won’t pretend to know anything about it.”

“You made this? A space? For me?”

“Yes," he said, with just a glimmer of pride. "Think of it as - a wedding present.”

“Oh. But I didn’t get you anything.”

“No, no. You don’t have to. You, just being here, it’s great. You’ve helped me so much. I never thought I’d ever be married. And not to someone like you.”

Tony’s eyes grew large. What was Steve talking about? He was Captain America. He could have anyone. But he made Tony feel special. And wanted. What kind of alpha finds out his omega has been fooling around with tools only to give them a fully-equipped workshop? Steve, apparently.

"Thanks, Steve. You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I do. You're mi- most welcome."

And Tony was swept up by a wave of gratitude and dizzying euphoria. So, he shifted closer and lifted his heels such that he was on his toes. Tilting his head towards Steve, he pressed his lips against his cheek. Steve smelled so good, and Tony found his hands circling Steve’s neck, pulling him closer.

“No, Tony. No,” Steve muttered, holding Tony firmly by the shoulders. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t need anything from you.”

Oh.

Tony drew back abruptly, cheeks burning with shame. Steve didn’t want him. Not like that. His socially-inept self had read the signs all wrong. And thrown himself at his kind, thoughtful husband, making him uncomfortable in the process.

Alphas had needs. Tony knew that. That’s why they needed mates. To make them happy. Tony was lucky Steve hadn’t put his needs above Tony’s and forced himself on him before he was ready.

But bit by bit, Steve, his attractive, sweet, full-of-surprises husband had chipped away at the resentment and awkwardness that came with an arranged marriage and Tony thought he was ready. To move to the next step. To make their marriage real. Tony forgot that a real marriage involved two people who felt the same way. Theirs apparently did not meet the necessary requirements.

Steve said he wanted to court him. But that had been weeks ago. He could have changed his mind. Maybe Tony wasn’t quite what he looked for in a mate. Being nice to Tony was just Steve’s way of keeping his distance. If Tony was busy, he wouldn’t bother him too much.

Maybe, Steve been forced into this marriage too. Had to take on a mate to show he was stable. Steve said he was helping. He must have meant the cooking and cleaning. Tony supposed he did them well. He always gave his 100% whatever the task was. Steve was just showing his appreciation. For a job well done.

“Are we still good for tomorrow night?” Steve asked, interrupting the tempest in Tony’s head.

Saturday night. The night they would take Steve’s motorcycle downtown, have cheeseburgers and milkshakes at a diner before watching a film at the local theatre.

“Yeah, sure,” Tony answered mechanically, applying his skill of smiling-while-not-giving-a-fuck as Steve rattled off movie choices for their outing the next day.

He was falling in love with Steve. It was just too bad that Steve didn’t love him back.

Chapter Text

“You are of no benefit at all.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Am I in your way?”

“You are a tragedy.”

Tony scurried about the living room, berating DUM-E, his robot child, as he performed a myriad of household chores.

Ha! Mom, I made a robot to pick up my tools. And wipe the tables. And clean the floor. It’s too bad you and Dad won’t get to meet him because he’ll be hiding in the super-secret workshop that my husband gave me.

“You all right there?” Steve asked, amused and alarmed by Tony’s verbal abuse of the indefatigable droid.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s just my parents. Coming over. For the first time. To judge me. And my homemaking. Which is good. Right? Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing more than okay, Tony. You’re wonderful, really. And DUM-E is a great idea.”

“Yeah. Imagine if every omega had one of these. What would we do with all the time we saved? We could, I don’t know, get actual jobs we liked. What a thought!”

“Controversial. But brilliant. And the way it should be.”

“Next project – a robot that cooks,” Tony announced, stirring the broth carefully so he wouldn’t spill a drop on the pristine kitchen counter. He’d followed his mother’s recipes to the letter. Food would be ready in half an hour, exactly when his parents were due to arrive.

Tony was a good homemaker. He wanted his parents to see that. The colossal tree and handmade Christmas decorations were up for that reason. Ideally, they would have celebrated Christmas together but his parents were leaving for the Bahamas in a few days.

The festive décor put everyone in a great mood and his parents were generous and forthcoming with their compliments about the house and Tony’s cooking. Even Howard looked pleased. His eyes sparkled and Tony hadn’t seen him laugh so much in a long time.

“Do you want to take a look at the rest of the house?”

Tony froze. What was Steve thinking, ruining the lovely evening they were having? Was he offering his parents a tour? Around their house? Where they would find out about their (separate) bedrooms? And the workshop? He thought it was meant to be their secret.

Maria picked up on his distress almost instantly, so she expressed a desire to wait by the fireplace, inviting Tony to join her. Tony found himself warming his freezing hands with a cup of hot chocolate as he tried to catch up with his mother, whom he hadn’t seen for months.

“So - are you and Dad enjoying the peace and quiet now that I’m gone?” Tony asked, stirring the twelve marshmallows swimming in his beverage. 

“We miss you. Your father, especially, worries about you all the time. Wonders if you and Steve are getting along, if he is treating you right. He is, isn’t he?” she asked, looking him over to assess if he'd lost weight.

“Yes, Steve has been very kind.” He really was. He loved showering Tony with gifts, all sorts of gifts, ranging from the tiny treats in his teacup to large liberties like the workshop which his dad was probably finding out about right now.  

“I’m glad," Maria said, taking his hand. "Your father was obsessed with finding you a good home. He may have gone overboard at times, but really, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you.”

Tony shrugged. “You know, I thought Dad was tough on me. And now, looking back, I just remember the good stuff. In all fairness, I was a handful. And it must be hard being a parent.”

“You think you might have children some day?” Maria continued, taking a sip of her drink. She made a face, which made Tony laugh, then promptly swept her marshmallows into his cup.

He scooped them up gleefully, balancing as many as he could on his teaspoon. “I’m not sure I've got what it takes,” he told her, mouth full of candy.

“Nobody knows how to be a parent, Tony. Your dad and I pieced it together as we went along. But you will figure it out because you are incredible. And also a genius.”

“Gee. Thanks, Mom," he whispered, touched. Marshmallows gone, he finished his drink, feeling all warm and toasty inside.

When it was time to say goodbye, Tony lingered in his mother’s embrace, breathing in as much of her scent as he could. When he finally tore himself away, he found his father looking at him with a soft, almost tender expression. He recalled the last hurtful exchange they’d had.

Say something. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.

“I love you, Dad,” he whispered, pausing briefly before looking up.

Howard smiled and pulled Tony in for a hug. Tony mirrored his smile to keep his disappointment from showing. No, he wouldn’t be hearing those words back. But Tony would comfort himself with the knowledge that they’d at least parted on good terms.

Two days later, Howard and Maria died in a car accident.

***

Tony was in the workshop when Steve came in wearing a grave expression, insisting that he sit down.

Tony trembled in Steve’s arms as he tried to process the devastating news. Steve didn’t offer him words of comfort, knowing that no words could ease the pain of a bereaved child. He just held Tony close as painful sobs racked his body and ripped him apart.

The scent of fresh flowers permeated the mansion. Candles were kept alight on just about every table and shelf. A steady stream of mourners paid their last respects, travelling from all corners of the globe and arriving at varying times of the day.

Tony tried to find comfort in the kind words offered to him, stories about his parents’ legacy. Their work had changed and touched the lives of so many around them. And now that their lives had been unfairly cut short, they would be mourned and missed.

Maria looked timelessly beautiful as she lay at rest. A devoted mother and wife, she was a paragon of virtue, and taught Tony close to everything he knew about people and life. He stayed by her side whenever he could, keeping vigil as she slept, unable to tear his eyes away from her powdered face and décolletage.

Howard had never been one to stay still, too concerned about the world around him and its progress. He could finally rest now. Tony was thankful for his father’s influence, one which inspired him to change their world.

His only regret was their strained relationship towards the end. If only he'd known their time together was to be so limited, he would have tried harder to be a little less difficult, a lot more understanding.

Tony watched, in a trance, as Steve gave orders to the household, grateful that someone else had taken charge of it so he could focus on processing his feelings. When Steve turned towards him, eyes clouding with concern, Tony gave him a reassuring wave. And then, he realised.

Steve was the only family he had now.

***

They found themselves in a lawyer’s office, where their family lawyer read them Howard’s last will and testament. As their only child, his parents left Tony the bulk of their property and wealth. Stark Industries, his father’s pride and joy, had been left to Steve.

Tony blinked as Steve was named the successor to SI. Due to their nation’s laws preventing omegas from owning corporations, Tony knew it wasn’t possible for Howard to leave SI to him. He was, however, surprised that it hadn’t been left to one of Howard’s colleagues. Obadiah Stane? Anton Vanko? Hank Pym?

Tony stared at the box in front of him. Jarvis had just handed it to him a few hours ago, telling him it contained his father’s personal effects. He picked up a white envelope, bearing his name in his father’s messy scrawl. What did Dad want to tell him only after he was gone?

Tony,

When you read this, I would have gone to my final resting place. I've spent my life trying to make this world a better one, for you. You’re a star, shining defiantly in a world, dulled by apathy. I was terrified that you would never find a home, a galaxy vast enough to accommodate you and your dreams.

It pained me to think of you being alone when your mother and I leave. I hoped to find you a caring, dependable mate to build a loving home with. Steve is the one, the only one, I trust to take care of you with no expectations of his own. Of course, there isn’t anyone who could ever deserve you, but I know Steve will do his best to treat you right.

I was overjoyed that Steve has restored our special place, the workshop, just for you. With his support, I am leaving you Stark Industries. I built it for you. It is my life’s work. I am limited by the technology of my time, but I know you'll figure it out. And when you do, you’ll change the world.

My own father was cold and undemonstrative. Which is why I’ve always struggled to express my feelings. I apologise for my failings and for ever causing you to feel inadequate. What is and always will be my greatest creation is you. I couldn’t have wished for a better son.

I love you.

Howard

Hands trembling with emotion, he picked up the folder nested in the box. Thumbing through the clear pockets, he found pictures of himself growing up. His father teaching him to use tools. Certificates from various institutions of learning. Newspaper clippings of his prodigious achievements. Notes he had written. Birthday cards he had made. And the words of a poem, The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams.                             

He loved him. Of course, he did. In the midst of hurt and disappointment, there had been love. And pride. Oh God. He’d loved him. And Tony, blinded by all his insecurities, had never seen it. Till it was too late.

Crying into his pillow, Tony didn’t even hear the knocking on his door. He barely registered Steve walking into his bedroom and sitting down beside him. He let him pull him into his arms, body shaking with forceful sobs.

“He loved me, you know?” Tony whispered, voice raw from weeping. “He wants me to run his company.”

“He did. Told me it was your dream. And made me promise not to hold you back.”

Tony swallowed painfully, remembering the last time he had seen his parents. They had been so happy, so alive. “What do I do now that they’re gone?”

“You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. Together,” Steve promised, squeezing his hand.

Tony pulled the covers over his head, sealing himself in the darkness he felt.

***

He spent his days in and out of sleep, finding it impossible to summon enough strength to leave the bed. In the dark, he could pretend his parents were still alive, holidaying in the Bahamas.

While Tony’s life came to a standstill, the world around him continued to spin. And avenging was one thing that could not wait. After a quiet month, Steve had to leave for a mission, one which would take him away from New York for a week.

At first, Tony was relieved to be alone. He didn’t have to keep himself together or pretend he was fine. He could cry whenever he wanted or lie in bed all day. No one to ask if he was okay or nag him about eating “real food, not pop-tarts”. But as the days went by, he began to miss Steve. Without him, the house just seemed a little too large, a little too quiet.

Steve texted at least once a day and Tony always responded promptly, assuring Steve that he was eating and getting enough sleep. So Tony became concerned one day when he received no word. A second day. And a third. Steve said the mission would take a week and it had already been ten days. The silence was driving him insane.

When Tony heard keys turning in their lock at two in the morning, he burst out of his bedroom and hurried down the stairs.

“Steve!” he cried as he flung himself at the alpha, throwing his arms around his neck. “I thought you were dead!”

“I thought you were sleeping,” Steve mumbled softly, breathing in the scent of Tony’s hair.

“Couldn’t sleep. Not when you weren’t here.”

“You all right?”

“I am now.”

Tony gasped as Steve stepped into the light, his face covered in gashes and scrapes. Tony would later find out a couple of ribs had been broken too. “What happened to you?”

“Ambushed in an elevator. You should have seen the other guy. Guys. Yeah. Like ten of them.”

Noting the distraught expression on Tony’s face, he quickly continued. “I’ll be all right soon. Don’t worry. This is nothing. I’ve had worse.”

Tony furrowed his brows, hardly reassured. He had to do something, offer comfort in some way. “You hungry?” he asked.

“For your cooking? Always.”

So Tony put together a supper of warm bread and chicken broth because what kind of mate, depressed or not, let his injured husband go to bed hungry?

He was going to focus on Steve’s recovery. Make sure he was feeling better. For now. And then he was going to work on something big.

***

Tony glared at the discs lined up on his table. They were either too heavy to throw easily or too light to cause any damage. The worst of all was how they vibrated when caught. He was taking his frustrations out on the twentieth prototype when he recalled Howard’s exciting discovery of an unknown metal during a trip to Africa. Tony hurried to his father’s office to acquire the coveted material, in a vial, still untouched, begging to be experimented on.

Tony worked carefully to forge the small amount of metal he had into its desired shape. There was no room for mistakes. After a painstakingly long wait for the metal to set, he held in his hands the perfect weapon. Light enough to throw, heavy enough to hurt and completely vibration absorbent. Made from the rarest metal on Earth. The only one of its kind.

Steve was more than a little awestruck when Tony shyly presented him with the circular shield, which he instantly loved. Equally suited for attack and defence, it was the ideal weapon for Captain America and all he stood for. The red, white and blue was a nice touch and Steve marvelled at how it moved as he tossed it around, recovering it easily with the electromagnetic panels on his new gauntlets.

“This- This is for me?” Steve asked, visibly moved. 

“Yes, be safe. I don’t have anyone but you.” 

Steve’s eyes softened. “You’re all I have too, you know?”

Steve liked the shield. Fantastic. Now, Tony could work on his suits. That current suit, which someone named Agent designed, did nothing for his ass. He was thinking a dark blue and white one. For stealth. And a red-white-blue one. For official appearances.

And maybe he could work on gear for the rest of the team, since he was depending on them to watch Steve’s six.

Electroshock batons for the Black Widow. Specialised arrowheads for Hawkeye. Would Dr Banner be interested in a metal containment shell to minimise the Hulk’s damage for when he went on a rampage? An upgrade of their communications system?

And all the ideas he’d had over the years. The Arc Reactor. The Stark Sonic Canon. The Jericho. He might also need one of those holotables he saw in the Star Wars films he was watching with Steve.

Tony couldn’t wait to start.

Chapter Text

Tony ran his hand through his overgrown curls, sweeping his untidy bangs out of his eyes. Checking for stubble, he stroked his smooth jaw and upper lip and briefly wondered how it would feel to be kissed.

An ache in his lower belly reminded him that he’d forgotten to take his suppressants for what had to be the third time that week. So, Tony swallowed two at once, hoping to make up for the missed doses.

The very first time Tony found the bottle of pink pills on his dressing table, he’d been overjoyed and relieved. Steve was giving him options. So he didn’t have to bond with a complete stranger. But the innocuous-looking pink pills were now becoming a cruel reminder that Steve had no interest in bonding with him. And he was rejecting him, month after month, in the kindest way he knew.

Tony tried to focus on the positives of his marriage. Steve allowed him to have a career he loved, even going so far as to bulldoze the obstacles in his way. Steve always made time for him, and found a favourite spot in their workshop so he could watch Tony work.

Tony was touched one day to find out that Steve owned a copy of Engineering Fundamentals. His husband had even highlighted important concepts and written notes by the side on the points he wanted to discuss with Tony.

And more than occasionally, he got Tony little gifts that showed how much he listened and cared.

Bonding was just one of the things Steve wasn’t interested in and Tony would have to deal with that.

Tony twisted the ring on his left hand, reassured by the familiar feel of the gold band. He only took it off when working (safety guidelines drilled into him by an overprotective father) and always kept it carefully in its box, afraid to lose it amongst his tools and fasteners.

Apart from the ring, there was no other sign he was married. He fingered the smooth skin on his neck, wondering how it would look and feel like marked. And if it ever would be.

Aware that the clock was ticking, Tony put on his suit (a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two button) which fit closely to the body. Indeed, it felt snug around his curves, almost like a hug. And he realised it was something he really needed.

He found Steve in the living room, already dressed and waiting. It just wasn’t fair. For Steve to look and smell the way he did and not want him. Steve approached him with a smile and a twinkle in his eye and Tony liked to pretend he’s the cause for it and not a trick of the lighting.

“You look amazing,” Steve offered generously, in an attempt to ease his nerves. “Ready to go?”

“Do I have to? You’re the CEO, not me.”

Steve laughed good-naturedly, his deep voice doing all sorts of things to Tony’s insides. “Only in name. Everyone knows you’re the boss.”

Tony huffed.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll have a couple of drinks, some food. I think Pepper ordered those mini cheeseburgers you liked. We’ll chat with your investors. If you want, we can even dance. Do you know how?”

“Do you know how?” he asked, interest piqued.

“Not really. I was hoping you would show me,” Steve said, bashful smile on his face.

Tony brightened up. Maybe he was giving himself too much pressure. He had attended these galas before. And dancing with Steve. That could be nice.

Pepper had outdone herself with the planning of the event. Hiring his ex-classmate was really one of the best decisions he’d made. She really was the most capable, qualified and trustworthy person he knew.

And Steve was telling the truth about the party. It was okay, at least in the beginning. They had a drink, some food. The evening wasn’t going too badly at all.

Then Steve introduced him to Miss Romanov.

“Mr Stark. It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Stevie talks about you all the time.”

Stevie? Tony had no idea Steve was a Stevie. And the casual way it rolled off her tongue left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What did he tell you?” Tony asked, looking sideways at Steve, who was smiling affectionately at the former Russian spy.

“Only the good stuff,” Natasha assured him in a way that was hardly reassuring at all.

Steve had told him the Black Widow was going to be there, providing additional security for the Stark Industries Gala but nothing could have prepared him for her presence. She was so beautiful and sexy in that red dress, her tiny waist accentuated in a gold belt. Tony couldn’t take his eyes off her. And neither could Steve.

Tony barely responded to Pepper’s questions (regarding the 8,011 things she needed his attention on), choosing to focus his attention on Steve and Miss Romanov, walking away, arm-in-arm. He didn’t miss the familiar way Steve placed his hand on the small of her back and how she playfully punched his arm when making a point.

“Oh, wow. Pep. She’s a very, very impressive individual. She’s fluent in French, Italian, Russian, Latin. Who speaks Latin?" he asked, looking up from his tablet for a brief moment.

“No one speaks Latin. You can read or write it. But you can’t speak it,” Pepper informed him.

“Did you model in Tokyo? Because she modelled in Tokyo,” Tony continued, scrolling through pictures of the redhead in lingerie.

“Tony. You’ve nothing to be jealous about. Captain Rogers has known her since he came out of the ice. But he chose you. Stop ogling, and googling, and get us some drinks, will you?” Pepper urged, nudging Tony towards the bar with a light tap to his behind.

He was about to order a scotch for himself and a vodka martini (with olives, lots of olives, like at least three olives) for Pepper when a tall, blond (and vaguely familiar-looking) man walked into his line of sight.

“Mr Stark,” he said, friendly smile on his face. "We met two years ago. At a party. Just like this one.”

Tony frowned as he tried to recall a name. Something sinister-sounding. Along the lines of ‘Rich Villain”.

“Aldrich Killian," the mystery man supplied. "I just want to say I’m so sorry about your parents. I’ve worked with your father and I’m full of respect for his work.”

“Thank you, Mr Killian,” Tony said.

“Call me Rich,” the stranger insisted.

Tony nodded. “Rich. What is it that you do?” he asked, making polite conversation.

“I run an independent think-tank called A.I.M. We were working with the late Mr Stark to replicate the super-soldier serum formula that Dr Erskine made.”

“Any success?” he asked, genuinely curious now.

“We have the base formula but are still working on the glitches. Imagine hacking into the hard drive of any living organism and recoding its DNA.”

“It sounds highly weaponisable. Enhanced soldiers, private armies, I don’t think…”

“Don’t think. Drink,” Killian said, offering Tony a glass of scotch, which he accepted.

Tony enjoyed their conversation, but as the minutes passed, he found it harder to pay attention. Not that the man was boring. On the contrary, he was quite charismatic. And Tony loved talking about research. But something in the air was making him want to close his eyes.

“You want a little air?” Killian asked, after talking for a while.

“Yeah- yeah, I do,” Tony said, desperate to leave the ballroom, which was getting a little too warm and stuffy for his comfort.

Tony allowed Killian to lead him to the elevator, which took them to the rooftop of the hotel. For a while, they quietly observed the traffic passing through Manhattan’s busy streets.

“What is it like being married to Captain America?” he asked, turning his head to look at Tony.

“Good. Steve - He’s a good husband - ”

“And currently engaged with the stunning Miss Romanov," Killian said, cutting him off. "Can’t blame him, you know? They’ve got so much in common, being Avengers. Just like how you and I have so much in common, as inventors.”

Tony laughed nervously, his instincts telling him that something was wrong.

“Look, he hasn’t even claimed you yet,” Killian drawled, caressing the smooth skin on Tony’s neck.

“He’s old-fashioned," Tony explained. "Said he wanted to take things slow.”

Killian shook his head, clucking his tongue. “Selfish of him to keep you to himself if he’s not going to treat you right.”

“I think- I should go-” Tony whispered, beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Steve will be looking for me.”

“Oh, don’t. We’ve just started talking. Do you know? Two years ago, you promised to meet me on this same rooftop but never showed. I often wonder what would have happened if you’d kept our date. We could have been married by now. I’m no Captain America, but I would have given you the world.”

Tony stared at the man. He was right. He could not be more different from Steve. But he was tall and blonde and rather charming under the moonlight. And he was friendly and understood Tony’s work and loved to talk about Science stuff with him. And for some reason, Tony was feeling flushed despite the cool breeze. And the world began spinning.

“Oh, beautiful. You want me. I can smell it on you,” Killian whispered into his ear as the omega felt himself getting wet with increasing horror.

It was wrong. Tony knew it. But Killian’s warm hand felt so good in the chilly breeze. Tony closed his eyes for a second to clear his head and almost instantly felt warm lips pressed against his own. “No, no. Stop. Please stop. I can’t,” Tony pleaded as he tried to struggle out of Killian’s vice-like grip.

“Your body is telling me to do the exact opposite,” Killian breathed, tightening his hold. “I am going to have so much fun with you, you little slut."

The dread in the pit of Tony’s stomach spread to his limbs, leaving him paralysed. Tears of frustration filled his eyes as he regretted leaving the relative safety of the ballroom for the rooftop.

The scent hit him first. And then the voice, cold and hard. “Let him go.”

Tony’s eyes flickered open to the sight of Steve, the love of his life, glaring down at Killian, flooding him with relief and terror all at once. Tony gripped the railing for support as Killian abruptly let go of him. He watched, wide-eyed, as Steve’s eyes, filled with hurt, shifted pointedly from him to Killian and back to him again.

“Captain Rogers. It’s an honour. We’ve never met. I’m Aldrich Killian,” he said, holding out his hand.

Steve kept his arms crossed. “I don’t care.”

“I'll see you later then. Goodbye, Tony,” Killian waved as he stepped into the elevator, leaving Tony alone with Steve.

The look in Steve’s eyes was hard. As was the set of his jaw. Tony knew what he looked like, alone in another alpha’s arms in a deserted part of the building. He wanted to explain himself, to apologise, to fall at Steve’s feet and beg for forgiveness but the words didn't come.

Wordlessly, Steve took his hand and guided him back to the ballroom, making a beeline for Natasha who was conversing with Agent. Tony sank into the empty seat beside Natasha, still shaking from the shock as he attempted to listen to Agent persuade Steve against impulsive behaviour of any kind.

“… not personal.”

“.. kind of feels personal.”

Tony strained his ears, but was barely able to make out the conversation.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Tony whimpered at the sound of Steve’s voice, hard and unrelenting.

“Relax,” Natasha said, squeezing Tony’s hand. “He doesn’t mean you. He’s very fond of you.”

Tony’s heart sank as he watched Steve walking away with purposeful strides. 

He nodded mutely as Natasha thanked him for the electroshock batons, too shaken to pay attention to her feedback. But her presence and her voice were a great distraction, which helped the tense minutes tick by.

“It’s late. I’ll get Happy to come around with the car,” Steve informed them when he finally returned, straightening his hair and dishevelled clothing. It’s impossible for Tony to ignore the light bruising dusting his knuckles.

The ride home was quiet, save for the soft sound of tears hitting Tony’s lap. The moment Happy stepped on the brakes, Tony raced upstairs to hide in the sanctuary of his own room.

“Tony?” he heard a voice calling from him outside the door.

“Go away.”

“We need to talk.”

“You have reached the life-model decoy of Tony -”

“Let me in.”

Tony opened the door, hiding behind it as much as possible. He didn’t really have a choice. Steve could and would break the door down if he wanted to. He peered at Steve through his wet eyelashes. And his husband's eyes softened at the sight of his tear-stained face.

“Tony. Come here,” he murmured as he pulled the tearful omega from behind the door and into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Tony choked out, between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t myself. I was alone and he came and he said those things. I told him to stop. But he wouldn’t let go. And I wanted it to be you, Steve. I wanted it to be you.”

Steve kept quiet as Tony rambled, simply holding him close.

“And now, I’ve ruined everything. Was there anything? You shouldn’t have married me. I'm not good enough.”

“No, no. Hush. Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You saw me. Some random man pays me a little attention and I let him have his wicked way with me.”

“Tony,” Steve warned, his voice stern. “I won’t have you talking about yourself like that. It’s not true and you know it. I think I know what might have happened. We can find out tomorrow.”

“Are you mad?”

“Yes. But not at you. Never at you,” Steve reassured, resting his hand at the back of Tony’s head. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I should have known you’d be upset. I should have made sure you were all right.”

Tony was flooded with relief and also guilt. He didn’t deserve Steve’s forgiveness. He didn’t deserve Steve. After all that he’d done. But he couldn't live without him either. “I was scared,” he said

“Don’t be. I’m here now. I will take care of you. You need to rest, Tony. Bath now. Then bed.” His voice was soft but it allowed no room for arguments.

“Can you stay? Please? At least till I sleep.”

“Yes, yes. Of course,” Steve promised, as he held him just a little closer.

Tony shut his eyes in an attempt to drift off but his head and his body refused to cooperate. His mind was racing with nagging doubts. And his body. Just what was going on with his body?

He’d scrubbed his skin so hard in an attempt to rid himself of Killian’s scent. It was red and raw to the touch. But he also felt feverish and light-headed. Steve sensed it too and promptly got out of bed to pour Tony a glass of water.

“Here. Drink this. It might help.”

Tony took the proffered glass from Steve’s hands. Such strong, masculine hands. They’d feel so good on his skin. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. His mind whispered as his body shuddered with desire.

“You’re shaking,” Steve observed, the words rolling easily out of his gorgeous mouth. His lips looked so soft and warm and pink. Had they always looked that way? Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

“Tony? Are you all right?”

“Ye- Yes” Tony replied, just before he got hit by painful cramps from deep within his belly. And the slick.

Oh.

“No, Steve. it’s my heat. I don’t know how…”

Steve bit back a growl, his body, his large, perfect body flushing in response. Fuck me. Fuck me.

“Fuck me.”

“Tony,” Steve groaned. “I can’t. Not when you’re like this.”

Not when he’s a mess. Not when he’s a slut. Not when he wasn’t the one Steve loved.

“I’m just going to hold you, all right?”

Tony nodded. He’d take whatever Steve could give him. Wrapped in Steve’s arms and scent, Tony drifted into a sleepless dream. Filled with longing. For an alpha he loved with all his heart. A husband who would never love him back.

It was impossible to tell which hurt more. The pain within his belly or the ache inside his heart.

Chapter Text

Tony blinked as he processed the sunlight filtering through the window shades. Caught in a haze of emotions and very uncomfortable physical responses, he’d barely slept.

The depressed spot beside him was still warm. Steve must have stayed all night as he'd promised.

Above the chirping of the birds, Tony could make out hushed whispers outside his bedroom door.

“could have been worse-”

“suppressants helped- counter-effect”

“got a bad feeling about this-” 

Dr. Banner was in the house.

A quick analysis of the drink Killian had offered confirmed Steve’s suspicions. There were traces of drugs, of the variety to artificially bring on an omega’s heat. Meant to increase a couple’s chances of conception, it had been employed in a much more sinister way in his case.

Thankfully, the suppressants he'd taken (somewhat regularly) prevented him from going into a full cycle, although he had been uncomfortable and very embarrassed.

An injection was administered, and he instantly felt better, so while Steve made his way to the Avengers Tower for a meeting (presumably to figure out Killian’s diabolical plans), Tony left the house for some much-needed fresh air.

***

The park was crowded with families enjoying picnics and bicycle rides that fine summer day and Tony soon found himself reminiscing about afternoons at the park with his parents. Alone, he could only watch enviously as blissful couples walked past him, trading kisses and sharing ice-cream cones.

A few nights ago, he’d had a dream. About having a kid. With Steve. It had been so real. And it gave him a major case of baby fever. And now he constantly thought about raising their brood together.

They’d go to the park each weekend with picnic baskets of cheeseburgers and pizzas. Steve would teach them to play frisbee. Tony would show them how to make their own kites. Or remote-controlled aircraft. Or drones. They’d zip around on personalised bicycles. They could even get a dog. Or three.

The simple life. They’d get there one day. Right?

Succumbing to the fatigue in his legs, Tony found a bench beside the pond. It was mating season so the swans were putting on their best moves. Enthralled by their public displays of affection, he barely noticed when the space beside him became occupied, by the very person he was trying to avoid. 

By the light of the setting sun, they watched as the lovebirds danced around each another in a ritual. How they took turns to be the pursuer and the pursued, the give and take, the back and forth, before finally meeting in the middle.

“That's an awful lot of work to find a mate,” Steve remarked, breaking the silence.

“Not really, considering they’re selecting a life partner.”

Steve raised a brow. “They bond for life?”

“Surprising, huh? One would think having multiple mates increases their reproductive success.”

“It does. But I guess there are more important things than having offspring. Like providing the best environment for them to thrive in.”

“Do you want to have kids some day?” Tony blurted out, surprising them both. 

“Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.”

“You want to have kids? With me?”

“Who else am I going to have them with?” Steve asked, bemused.

“I don’t know," Tony said. "Other people. Like Miss Romanov.”

Steve laughed. “You think I should have kids with Natasha?”

He shrugged, trying to stay objective. “Those babies would be gorgeous.”

"What about you? Is there anyone else you'd-” Steve countered, face impossibly taut.

“No.' I don’t have anybody,” he said as he felt his eyes welling up.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” the alpha asked, instantly sitting up straight.  

“My parents died, Steve. And I miss them. So much."

Steve leaned closer so Tony could bury his tearful face in his chest.

"And I got married," he added, when he was able to speak again. To a man who’s sweet and kind and patient. And it was nothing I expected and everything I wanted. And I love and hate it at the same time. I mean I don’t hate it. I’m happy. I am," he clarified, after a moment's pause. "But also terrified. That it's all a dream. Like I might wake up to find that none of this is real. Or that you might and find that this isn't what you want. I’m not what omegas are supposed to be like and I don’t think I can change -."

“No, you’re not,” Steve interrupted his ramble, smiling affectionately at him. “I love you like this. I don’t want you to change.”

“You-”

love me?

“don’t want me to change?”

“You're special, Tony. I've never met anyone like you. You’re everything I want. You're all that I need. And I need you. So much. Since- you know, I didn’t have anything to live for. Meeting you turned everything around. Nat says I’ve stopped being as reckless. I've stopped trying to die. Because I know you’re counting on me to come home.”

“But, you haven’t said or done anything. I thought you-” he faltered, lost for the right words.

“I'm terrified. Of holding you back. Or ruining your life. It's not going to be easy being my husband. It's never going to be easy. And this wasn't what you wanted. At least not in the beginning."

"And if I still didn’t want this?"

"I'd let you go," he whispered, looking into the distance. "Some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their wings are too wide and their songs are too loud. And though life without them is dull and dreary, the world would be brighter with the sight of their feathers and the sound of their songs. If all you want is a sanctuary, that will always be on offer. But if you're looking for a home-" he began, looking at him fondly now, the way Tony realised he always did. "I can give you one too."

"A home sounds good," he croaked, over the lump in his throat, watching as Steve's face lit up against the darkening sky.

“So, is there something we’re supposed to say or do to make this marriage real? Because I haven’t figured it out. I’ve tried, Steve. I tried to kiss you, and God, that was a disaster. And then I threw myself at you and you turned me away.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about last night," Steve sighed, disbelieving. "You were drugged. I didn’t want our first time to be like that.”

“Oh? How did you want it to be?” 

Steve’s eyes flitted over to the swans. “I think we would dance. And maybe, if you wanted, I would kiss you.”

“I’d say 'yes'.”

“Come home with me,” Steve asked, gently brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. 

“Yes, husband."

Basking in the last rays of the evening, Tony took Steve the long way around the park, pointing out his favourite spots, so they could share an ice-cream cone. They took turns to devour the melting dessert, and Tony felt his heart overflow with sweetness. So, when Steve’s hand circled his wrist, he shyly laced their fingers together, and beamed when the alpha closed his fingers around them.

***

Later that evening, they met on the rooftop, softly lit by the moon and stars. Tony’s heart fluttered as the turntable, recently fixed, piped the notes from It’s Been a Long, Long Time.

“Are you ready for our dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." 

Tony bit back a laugh as Steve placed a tentative hand, fingers stiff, around his waist. They moved slowly, in sync with the melody, and Steve was content to let Tony lead.

By the time they were listening to the words, Steve’s hand had moved to the small of Tony’s back and he had pulled the omega in close, so close that Tony could feel his warm breath on his temple. Tony nuzzled Steve’s neck in response, and older man’s breath hitched.

Tony felt his heart race then slow down as Steve closed the gap, shyly placing his soft lips against his own. He savoured the aftertaste of vanilla ice cream, deeply inhaling the scent that was distinctly Steve’s own. 

As they broke apart, he opened his eyes to find Steve staring, pupils dark.

“Please, whatever you're going to do, don't you dare tell me you’re sorry,” Tony rasped.

“I’m sorry-” Steve said, without missing a beat. “Can we do that again?”

Tony rolled his eyes before closing them, angling his face upwards.

Smirking, the alpha kissed him, more confidently this time, swallowing the moans of pleasure escaping his mouth, taking his breath away before giving it right back.

“That’s all?” he challenged when he felt the older man pulling away.

He couldn’t remember if he leaned forward or if Steve pulled him closer. Perhaps, it was a little of both. They collided like diving bald eagles, and then Steve was kissing him. Or he was kissing Steve. He couldn’t tell, clinging on to his husband, the only solid thing in a world that was spinning around them. Before pulling apart at the very last second.

And when he finally caught his breath, he had to ask. “Was that your first kiss since 1945?”

“Yeah… It’s been a long, long time.”

***

After all the progress they'd made, Tony couldn’t help but feel disappointed when Steve wished him good night and left him outside his bedroom door. So, as he watched his husband retreating to his bedroom, he called.

“Steve? It’s cold.”

In the middle of summer. 

“I’ve got an extra blanket if you want.”

“It was warm last night. With you,” Tony added for the benefit of his oblivious husband, notoriously slow on the uptake when it came to such things.  

“Oh.”

"Yes."

“Warm enough?” Steve asked, after covering him carefully with the duvet so he felt warm, so warm, inside and out.

“Nope.”

Laughing, Steve turned him on his side and wrapped his long, strong arms around his body, pulling him closer to his chest. “What about now?”

“Much better.”

Happy and warm in his nest, their nest, it dawned on Tony that Steve’s embrace, while close and tight, wasn’t a cage, but a perch for him to find his footing and spread his wings. Before taking off for the sky. And on that perch, Tony felt like he could fly.

Chapter Text

 “What do you think, J? Red? Or blue?”

“I think the blue is a nice touch.”

“Red, it is, then.”

“Yes, that shall help you keep a low profile.”

“Any idea where Steve is?”

“According to my calculations, Captain Rogers has completed combat training at the tower. He is expected to be home in approximately thirty minutes.”

“Good. That gives me just enough time to wrap his gift.”

Tony had already seen his anniversary gift from Steve, that morning, on his bedside table, with a note reminding him of their plans to visit Coney Island. They were celebrating a year of marriage.

Tony’s ears perked up at the sound of footsteps. He had just about made it to the door when a violent explosion blew it wide open, sending him backward as flying shrapnel pierced his heart and burst the bubble he lived in. It would be the catalyst to spark an irrevocable chain of events.

Against the red of his shirt, he barely noticed, but his hands, his wedding band, were soon covered in blood. Red on gold. Then gold on red. White spots in his vision. Before it all went black.

***

Like the caterpillar, ignorant of how it's devoured its last leaf, he was carried, unconscious, into the cave, shrouded in secrecy and hidden amidst the mountains.

The transformation began as he slept. Bit by bit, they broke him down, stripping away the excess and leaving behind only the essence.

A physical assessment detected multiple contusions and broken ribs. But that wasn’t all they broke. Attempting to unplug the medical equipment hooked up to him, he found a series of cables connected to his chest. Not his chest, but something in it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“- the hell did you do to me?”

“What we did was to save your life.”

Most of the shrapnel had been removed but bits of them were embedded in his heart. An electromagnet prevented the metal from moving towards his atrial septum and killing him.

Tony knew the drill. This wasn't his first rodeo. Dad would pay the ransom or S.H.I.E.L.D would get him out. He never had to stay longer than a week, except that one time. But he had a feeling that this was no ordinary kidnapping.

“Who are you?”

“We’re your loyal customers, the Ten Rings.”

It only took a quick glance at the stockpile of weapons lining the cave to confirm the truth behind those words. Tony blinked, confused. SI produced weapons exclusively for the U.S. Army. So, how had the insurgents got their hands on their products?

“You have a family?”

“A husband. You might have heard of him. Tall guy, very handsome. Hates bullies. He’s got a very particular set of skills, skills he’s acquired over a very long career. Skills that make him a nightmare for people like you. So, if you take me back before he finds out, everything will be fine. Or not. I can't promise anything. He's got a temper. But if you don’t, then all of you are dead.”

“I’m sure he’s looking for you, Stark. But he will never find you in these mountains. No one will.”

“What do you want?”

“We want you to build us the Jericho missile.”

“I refuse.”

So, they began to break him down some more, chipping away his willpower, hammering away at his resolve. They were careful not to cause permanent injuries. They needed his mind and his body to make that missile.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Everything hurt. And he had to find ways to cope with the pain.

First, he tried listing pi’s decimal places: 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923...

It was barely a strain on his eidetic memory. The last and only time that had worked was a long time ago, when he was three.

Next, he tried listing squared numbers: 1, 4, 9, 16, 25, 36, 49, 64, 81, 100, 121, 144, 169, 196...

It was an improvement, but not enough considering his processing faculties.

Finally, he tried listing the numbers in the Fibonacci sequence: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946...

That was the most helpful by far. Tony made it to the hundredth number (354224848179261915075).

Then, he realised he couldn’t hear his thoughts above the constant ringing in his ears, a consequence of being smacked around, all day, every day. And he was far more interested in finding out which combination of sweat and tears and blood was streaming down his face in rivulets. Still, he kept his chin up and his head held high (or as high as he could while bound in excruciating positions).

Steve was looking for him. He had to be close. He would stay strong. If not for himself, then for Steve.

He wasn't going to make the weapon for them. If they were the terrorists he thought they were, there was too much blood on his hands already. He wouldn’t never be able to wipe it out, wash it away.

Water. It trickled, then gushed, into his nostrils, down his trachea. His nasal passages and throat swelled up from the constant coughing. His chest felt like it was about to burst.

What did Steve say about coping with asthma?

The relentless immersion began to take its toll. He lost his focus. And he felt dizzy and light-headed.

“Swooning, so soon?”

“You take my breath away.”

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

The icy water cleansed away everything superfluous, drowning out the distractions. In a chilling moment of clarity, his body learnt that oxygen was what his cells needed to survive. Nothing else mattered.

Till finally, he lay sprawled on the floor, sputtering and gasping, unable to tell if he was breathing in or breathing out.

“You can start working immediately. And when you’re done, we will set you free.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“Why should I do anything? You’re going to kill me, either way. And if you don’t, I’ll probably be dead within the week.”

“Then this is a very important week for you, isn’t it?”

***

When Tony thought about hitting rock bottom, he never thought it would literally be due to a rock, a piece of rubble that had got trapped between layers of his clothing from the explosion.

He wasn’t sure if it truly was from their home or something his clothes had picked up during his journey. Still, he held on to it like a lifeline, his last connection to the life he remembered, the last of the threads holding him together.

So, when it fell out of his hand, rolling away and disappearing among other nondescript rocks in a pile, he knew he’d lost it (the rock? their home? his mind? he didn’t even know anymore) for good. All he wanted to do was to curl up into a rock himself and wait for rescue, but this wasn’t even possible due to his broken ribs and shattered heart.

He didn't cry when they took his glasses, reasoning that it was better than having them shatter when they roughed him up. It also blurred their hideous faces, instantly improving the aesthetics of the cave.

He didn't cry when they took his watch, the Jaeger that his father left him, the gears in his mind already spinning as he plotted to get it back and fixed.

He even smirked when they took his wedding band (early in his captivity before they figured out who he was), read the inscription and freaked out when they realised he hadn’t been lying about being married to Captain America.

And then he grinned when they swiftly aborted their plan to remove the rest of his clothes, because no one was going to touch Captain America’s bonded mate, even though they were all goners already.

And then he laughed at how Steve, perhaps the most terrifying alpha in the history of alphas, but also secretly a golden retriever puppy, could protect him without even being there.

He kept it all together even at the worst of times. But days and weeks of solitary confinement caused his world to shrink, and it reduced him to sobbing over the most insignificant of things.

A piece of rock.

A stumbling block.

But also, a stepping stone.

Finally, he allowed himself to break down the dam and open the floodgates. He had tried too hard to be too brave for too long. And through the tears, it became clear just what he had to do. Then, slowly, carefully, he pieced himself together. The only way out was up.

Tony worked quickly to disassemble the weapons they supplied him with. Joints were unscrewed, pieces were cut, metals were melted. All reduced to their simplest form, mere cells, ready to be repurposed.

The palladium was a core for a miniaturised arc reactor. It would keep the shrapnel out of his heart. Buy him time. If his Math was right, and it always was, it could generate three gigajoules per second. That could run his heart for fifty lifetimes.

Or something big for fifteen minutes.

In the quiet of the night, he made an alloy of iron-copper-magnesium, fused the plates together, programmed an internal system, which he connected to the suit and the arc reactor.

The arc reactor, and its blue-white glow, reminiscent of soft blue eyes, became a source of comfort as he powered on through the nights.

He traced the scars forming on his chest and the one at the side of his neck, his head and heart heavy with the thought of Steve, miles away. Each time he reached out through the bond, it was flooded with waves of love and longing and increasing levels of distress. So much distress on Steve’s side of the bond.

Steve was looking for him. He had to be close. He would stay strong. If not for himself, then for Steve.

In those moments, Tony wondered if it was a good thing that they'd bonded before he was taken. If he died, his death could kill Steve too.

So, he had to stay alive. If not for himself, then at least for Steve.

And in between his bouts of tinkering, Tony’s thoughts drifted to a husband who loved pancakes and just about anything he cooked or made or said or did. A man who sketched buildings and read books about science stuff when he wasn’t busy saving the world.

An alpha with warm hugs, soft kisses and an impossibly gentle touch. A knot which filled the emptiness that had been his life. And a bite which made Tony’s head explode in a litany of “yours, yours, yours” as fervent rejoinders of “mine, mine, mine” echoed in his ear and reverberated in his heart.

The bite had consummated their bond. A magnetic system, an in-built compass. To each other. Was it too broken to work? Or was he too broken to save?

No, no, no. Steve loved him.

Steve was looking for him. He had to be close. He would stay strong. If not for himself, then for Steve.

Steve was coming for him. But maybe, he could go to Steve too.

Under the cover of darkness, he began to grow wings. And with them, courage, strength and an impenetrable armour.

Jet boots. Check.

Rockets. Check.

Flamethrowers. Check.

Micromissiles. Check.

Armour. Check.

At last, he was ready. For the eclosion.

A moth needs to fight its way out of a cocoon. It builds its wings and muscles in a personal struggle that saves its life. Without the struggle, it’s crippled, unable to move, unable to fly.

And boy was he ready for the fight of his life.

The Ten Rings never stood a chance against him in the Mark I. They tried, oh how they tried. But their gunfire and explosions were pathetic and useless against his armour.

“My turn,” he declared, as he unleashed his flamethrowers on the Ten Rings, torching their base, together with billions of dollars of technology. His technology. Or theirs?

OMG! That was really violent!

His brain screamed as he nodded in satisfaction at the poetic justice he'd served. Finally, he deployed his jet boots and rocket propulsion systems.

Yes, he could fly.

***

He ditched the exuvia, leaving it behind in a pile of ashes and dust. The wrecked exoskeleton had served its purpose, given him his ticket out of hell. Now, he just needed to find his way home.

He was in captivity for a whole season. Three months. He’d spent three months on his own. Could he go three weeks without water? Or three days without food? (Or was it the other way round?)

Tony always teased Steve about being a man out of time. But he's the one running out of it now.

With the longest stick he found, he drew a circle around himself in the sand. It’s a primitive way to tell the time, using one’s shadow. But he was all he had. Before he could mark out the last numerals, the first ones were gone, distorted by the winds of change.

He grasped at the sand and watched helplessly as fistfuls slipped between his fingers like the grains in an hourglass, a grim reminder of what was running out.

Tony thought of the physicist’s perpetual motion clock on his bedside table. He wondered if it was still there. The significance of the gift wasn't lost on him. A timepiece that never stopped ticking. A heart that never stopped beating.

An instrument so elegant and precise, marrying Tony’s love of physics with Steve’s love of design. Steve, who spent days studying his copy of Dudley’s Handbook of Practical Gear Design. Steve, who spent weeks sketching the mechanism. Steve, who spent months working with metals to make gears and balls and tracks in order to create a unique timepiece to mark this milestone. One year of marriage.

And engraved in his beautiful hand:

Don’t watch the clock. Do what it does. Keep going.

So, he did.

Moths, mostly nocturnal, are known for their affinity with light and even fire, often immolating themselves on open flames. Many believe that this is due to their use of the moon and stars to find their way home.

Tony had had enough darkness for a lifetime. He went in pursuit of the light, not the sun, not even the moon or the stars. He'd be grateful for just a lamp to light his way.

He heard the roar of quinjets overhead, wondered if it’s the result of the constant ringing in his ears, a memento from the crash three days ago. The downdraft flung him into the sand in a final attempt to bury him and his last glimmer of hope.

But, he got up.

He began to make out the silhouette of a man on the horizon. A distant figure approaching. The figure was running now.

It shone. Like a beacon calling him home. A beacon in the form of gold hair, blue eyes and dazzling white perfect teeth. And the scent of pop-tarts and pancakes and ice cream. And the voice, equal parts hopeful and broken.

“Tony?”

“Steve-” he said before he allowed himself to fall.

The background faded as his eyes focused on the accessory on his husband’s wrist, the anniversary gift he made but never got to give.

It’s a watch, with the map of the world carved on its face, its hands automatically adjusting to its geographical location to tell the local time (3.30 p.m. in Gulmira). And always the time back home (7.00 a.m. in New York City).

He couldn't see the steel backing, but he knew the words, engraved them himself. He wondered how many times Steve read those words, as he searched for him, all over the world.

Life will take you places. But love will bring you home.

Chapter Text

 "Jarvis?”

The butler frowned at the sight of the blood-soaked paper towel.

“Yes, Master Anthony?”

“I can’t- breathe.” he gasped, between sobs.

“You just need a little help. Take a deep breath.”

Tony inhaled.

“Now, breathe out.”

He exhaled.

“When- will it stop?”

“In about a minute, you will feel better.”

He followed the instructions, inhaling and exhaling for a full minute as the panic bled out of him. Then watched through his tears as the other children ran circles around the playhouse, oblivious to the pain they’d caused.

“Ty and Sunset- they pushed me.”

“Yes, some children can be unkind.”

“Did they break me?”

“They could have,” Jarvis said, eyes flitting between his wet eyes and split lip, which had finally stopped bleeding.

"But you’re a mechanic, aren’t you?” 

“I am,” he agreed, taking the hand offered to him so they could walk back to the Rolls-Royce. 

"Jarvis, I made a circuit board just now. You think Daddy will want to see?”

Children, and grown-ups, could be unkind. So, whenever push came to shove, Tony took it in his stride, collected the proverbial sticks and stones. The original weapons of war. If he wanted to run a weapons company one day, he was going to need lots and lots of those.

***

Tony woke up shaking, his back bathed in cold sweat. For a moment, he thought he was still in the playground, stuck in a bad dream. And then, he remembered being in the cave, trapped in a nightmare. But it was too dark for the playground and too bright for the cave. And the blonde head beside him, reflecting the rising sun into his eyes, told him he was somewhere else. Hopefully on a quinjet bound for the states.

Steve had found him. He was safe now.

He watched as Steve slept, longing to run his hand through his soft hair, but his right arm was in a sling and his left was cocooned in Steve’s. He ached to lean over and kiss him, lips desperate for the warm skin inches away. But he couldn’t bear to wake his husband, whose exhausted body, still clad in uniform, lay hunched over the gurney.

Despite his efforts to stay still, Steve began to stir and his heavy eyelids fluttered open.

“Hi,” Steve began, tightening the hold on his hand.

“Hi.”

Tony gazed at his husband, his eyes tracing over his messy hair, the curve of his cheekbones and the set of his jaw. He took in the red-rimmed eyes, the wet lashes, the tear tracks on gaunt cheeks. He could have sworn those lines on his forehead hadn’t been there before.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, his voice raspy from disuse.

Tony looked pointedly at the heavy bags under his eyes. “Better than you.”

“Not all of us are twenty, you know?”

“Twenty-one,” he corrected, even though what he really felt like was a hundred.

“Wow,” Steve whispered, fondly. “Look at you. All grown up.”

“How did you find me?” Tony asked, genuinely curious.

“The bond. Warm days and cold nights, though it was hard to tell the time with the hours you kept. You didn’t sleep very much, did you?”

Tony shook his head ruefully. He didn’t remember sleeping at all.

“We figured you were in the desert. Took us a while to identify the right one. Then we learnt about the explosion. So, we circled the area around it. And then, I found you.”

“You did,” Tony agreed.

Which was amazing. Their compass had worked.

“I don’t know what I’d do if we hadn’t.”

Tony shrugged. “Whatever it is you always do. Kicking names, taking ass.”

Steve chuckled, moving closer. Tony had missed the sound of his laughter. He wanted to make him laugh again, to always be the reason for his mirth.

“Can’t do that all day. Besides, I’d much rather be doing this.” Steve brushed his hair aside, and pressed his lips to his forehead. Tony closed his eyes, as more kisses peppered the side of his face.

“Are we going home?”

“Tony, our home- it's -,” he hesitated. “We have to move. We can stay at the tower.”

Tony nodded. It would be okay. Home was where Steve was. The housing was compromised and couldn't be salvaged. Hopefully the replacement would be water resistant and shock proof.

Tony whined as Steve pulled away, chasing the warmth of his touch.

“I’m going to talk to Barton. Be back in a minute.”

He rolled over, burying his face where Steve’s head had been, inhaling deeply and filling up with his mate’s scent. But it wasn’t enough. He propped himself up and tried to find his footing. His body sparked painfully in protest but he ignored it. He needed to be where Steve was. He took deep breaths to still his racing heart and then the quinjet seemed to tilt and spin around him. His vision began to get dark.

Steve caught him just in time, and held him so tightly that Tony thought he would pass out again. But he leaned into the touch, Steve's hand on the back of his neck grounding him, and bringing him back to the present.

Okay. Okay. It would be okay. There had been a lot of water. There was a power surge and a blast. Tony was broken, more broken than he'd ever been. But he would be okay.

Because Tony was a mechanic. And fixing things was what he did.

***

The Avengers Tower was his home anyway. It had belonged to Howard and now it belonged to him. They settled in quickly on the 93rd (highest) floor of the tower, where Tony was warmly welcomed (doted on) by the rest of the team.

They were happy to let Tony install JARVIS in the building, and the butler’s voice helped to keep him calm and level-headed when the A.I. wasn’t helping the other occupants with operating the lights, ordering pizza and keeping tabs on everyone’s comings and goings.

Tony was thrilled to finally meet someone who spoke “English”, and his inner fanboy swooned when Dr. Banner invited him to his workspace, where they spent hours discussing anti-electron collisions and gamma radiation. Trying to impress the fellow Scientist, he was on his best behaviour, only prodding him twice in his (unsuccessful) attempts to turn him into a raging green monster.

Thor frequently brought him gifts- technology from a planet where Science and magic were one and the same. Over copious amounts of cup-breakingly good coffee and boxes of pop-tarts, the oldest and youngest member of the pack traded folk tales and children's stories. Then, he graciously let Tony beat him at Galaga and Fortnite even though he was a god and he “could totally kick his ass in real life”.

When Nat and Clint weren’t hunting down the rest of the Ten Rings, they dragged Tony out of his workshop to hang out (in ceiling vents) so they could eavesdrop on conversations. They felt like the older siblings he never had, and he soon learnt (the soft way) that “wrestling matches” was code for cuddle parties.

Between them, the superspies spoke over twenty languages, including American Sign Language. Yet, their primary means of communication was a system of head tilts, brow raises, eye rolls, nose wriggles and mouth twitches. With their coaching, Tony soon mastered this dialect, which they used routinely to talk about Steve.

Because Steve (brow raise, brow raise, eyeroll).

After his ordeal, Steve developed a protective streak a mile long. The Avengers were tolerated because he trusted them with his own life and Tony’s safety by extension of that. But everyone else was expected to keep a safe distance of as-far-as-possible, as a number of people found out (the hard way).

They were on their way to SI for a board meeting when Miss Everhart, a young reporter, went too far, or too near, getting into Tony’s face and asking him about being the “Merchant of Death”. Steve stepped in, physically shielding him from a barrage of other vaguely-insulting names (Da Vinci of our Time wasn’t bad at all), before giving the press a soundbite, though not the kind they were expecting, growling so ferociously that everyone within a mile’s radius fell to the ground, hands over their ears.

During the board meeting, Tony announced his decision to shut down the weapons manufacturing department, which was met with a fair bit of resistance. Swords were crossed and guns were drawn. And Obie blew Steve’s fuse when he put his arm around Tony’s shoulder and tried to alpha-splain why this wasn’t a good decision. So, Steve pulled him off and slammed him into a wall, before calmly remarking that his lack of faith was disturbing.

Tony was just happy to be done with the meeting and was looking forward to some peace (even though it was going to put them out of business). He needed time to reconcile the sweet husband he married with this new Steve, who acted like a playground bully.

Tony hadn’t even told him what happened in those caves. He didn't plan to, not with Steve's tendency to overreact.

Then, Brock and Jack had to enter the (unworthy) elevator, where tense greetings were exchanged.

“Captain.”

“Rumlow.”

“Captain.”

“Rollins.”

Neither of them attempted to make eye contact or speak with Tony. Nonetheless, the captain glared at them for the entire duration of a very long elevator ride because the STRIKE agents had the audacity to breathe the same air that he did.

The moment the doors opened on their floor, they bolted.

“One of these days, you are going to get us evicted.” Tony remarked evenly when the lift doors closed.

“Who is going to evict us from your own building?”

“If you don’t stop, I swear to Thor, I am going to kick you out.”

“I just want to keep you safe,” Steve explained, as the elevator continued its journey to their floor.

But Tony didn’t want any of it. “Steve, I found my way out of those caves. I think I’m going to be fine.”

“You know,” Steve said, looking closely at him. “You never told me what happened.”

Abruptly, Tony turned away, afraid that Steve would look into his eyes and see that he was no longer the same person he once cared about.

“What’s there to say?” he muttered, glancing at his watch.

“What do you know about your captors?”

“They’re dead?”

“How?”

He plucked at the loose threads on his jacket, surprised at how much they resembled fraying insulation, a potential hazard unless masked with tape.

“Rigged up whatever I could find to blow.”

“Like Kevin in Home Alone?”

He looked up at the floor indicator. 50^th storey.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“You were found 400 miles from their base.”

How many seconds to travel 400 feet or 40 floors? 20, 19, 18…

“I made a sui- a vehicle. It fl- hovered over the sand.”

“So, like Luke’s landspeeder?”

“Yeah. Kind of (not really) like Luke’s landspeeder. You were paying attention!”

“I don’t even know why. I hate Star Wars,” he deadpanned.

Tony snorted. “That’s ridiculous. You love Star Wars. You watched the whole trilogy. Thrice.”

20 floors left. 200 feet. 10 seconds.

“What were they after? Why you?"

“I was just the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Tony, you’re quoting Die Hard 2.” He tried not to flinch as Steve narrowed his eyes. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“What? That’s crazy. And wrong. I don’t even get– why would– I’ve never hidden anything from anyone, anywhere. It’s none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity. How do I know, frankly, that you’re not hiding something from me? Maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying to throw me off? Aha! Eureka! Check and mate!”

93^rd floor. Doors are opening.

But for Tony, they weren’t. He knew he shouldn't keep secrets from Steve. But he just wanted to keep him safe.

***

They considered going on a vacation, but their dream destinations were worlds apart. Tony wanted to travel to Asgard (by hammer) and Steve wanted to go to New Jersey (by armoured tank). Meeting in the middle didn't quite work because Tony couldn't go anywhere with water, sand and dark places. And Steve couldn't go anywhere with people-who-were-not-Tony.

So, they stayed in New York, which was fine for Tony. What he needed wasn't a quick recharge. It was a new battery.

“Steve,” he called to the resident alpha sitting at the opposite corner of the workshop. “Can you lend me a hand? Actually, I think I’m gonna need both of them.”

He waited patiently for Steve to put his sketchbook down and cross the room to where he was reclining in his chair.

“Let me see. My, what big hands you have,” Tony commented as he examined Steve’s long fingers.

“The better to hold you with, my dear?” Steve replied, bewildered and amused.

“Soon. Soon, you will hold my heart in your hands,” he promised.

“Is that thing in your chest keeping you alive?” Steve asked when he caught sight of the arc reactor sitting in his chest. Tony had been too self-conscious about the scarring to show it to him before.

“Yes, but the palladium was also killing me. So, I invented a new element and named it after me.”

“You- What?”

“Badassium. It powers this new contraption,” he explained. “What do you think?”

Steve peered at it, examining it from different angles. “It seems to generate some form of electricity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. I would put it in myself but I’ve run into a little problem. See, there’s an exposed wire. Ow!”

That got Steve’s attention in a heartbeat. “Okay. Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Slowly lift the wire.”

Apprehensive fingers moved towards the unit. “Okay. I got it. I got it.”

“Don’t let it touch the sides when you’re- Ow!”

“Sorry. Sorry,” the alpha cried, appalled. “Tony, what’s happening?”

“Nothing. I’m just going into cardiac arrest.”

“What?!?!?!” Steve exclaimed, looking like the world was about to end.

Tony touched his hand, squeezing it softly. “Okay. Okay. You’re good. You’re good. I’m good too. I will be. You just have to switch them now. NOW.”

He tried to stay calm, contemplating the epitaph on his tombstone: Not heartless, heartbroken. God’s righteous hands weren’t right. Star spangled man bungled up the plan.

A click was heard and finally, he felt sensation returning to his body.

“L- Like this?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “You did it. You did it. I feel great.”

He let out a sigh of relief before dissolving into giggles.

“That wasn’t so hard. It was fun, right?”

Steve, however, didn't share his sentiments.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Funny things are.”

Steve's face darkened. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever make me do anything like that again,” he thundered before storming out.

“Steve, Steve! Wait!” Tony called as he scrambled off his chair but got caught up in the cables surrounding it.

He found Steve back in their room, sitting on the edge of their bed. He was staring at something outside their window. His gaze was faraway, distant. He didn't even look up as Tony entered the room.

“Steve?” he called softly, taking note of his marble-like countenance and glassy eyes.

He eased himself on the carpeted floor, so he could hold his hand and get his alpha’s attention.

“Steve!” he tried again, more insistently this time.

Steve finally tore his eyes away from the window. He looked surprised to see Tony in front of him with the unspoken question on his face.

“I’m fine. It’s just- I’m- I just needed a moment. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s perfectly okay not to be okay sometimes.”

Steve looked fragile, like he was about to break. Or maybe he was already broken, his sharp edges showing. Whatever it was, he needed to be handled with care.

“I thought I was going to lose you again,” the alpha said, his voice showing the first signs of cracking.

“Steve, I’m fine. I’m really fine. But I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. My bad. I’m sorry.”

Tony pressed his cheek against Steve's chest, wrapping his arms gently around his stiff body. Steve melted into the embrace, resting his chin on the top of his husband’s head. Tony could feel the bandages around Steve’s torso. It was only hours ago that he’d raced to the medical bay to find Steve bleeding all over Dr Cho’s operating table.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve turned away quickly, as if to hide his face and Tony wondered how much more pain he was concealing behind his smile.

“You’ve been getting hurt a lot lately,” Tony pointed out gently.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

I'm fine. It was their favourite phrase now.

Tony wondered about that. The crying spells, angry outbursts, mood swings. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say Steve was turning into a human disaster like him.

He really was.

The bond. Their wires had crossed in the beginning, but they had since been straightened out. They were connected, for better or worse. If Tony was broken, then so was Steve.

Whatever was left of Tony’s heart ached, to see the man he loved reduced to a fraction of what he once was. And if Steve’s glorious light was threatening to go out, he had to take on the load, to shine twice as brightly for them both, until it came back on.

“What do you want to do with this?” Steve finally asked, holding out his old arc reactor, which had been beside him on the bed.

Tony stared. That arc reactor had kept him alive, powered the suit that got him out of the caves. For a moment, he was tempted to hold on to it as a reminder of what he’d lost and gained. But the glow of the new unit in his chest changed his mind.

“That? Destroy it. Incinerate it.”

There were memories he didn’t want to keep and new ones he wanted to make.

***

“JARVIS, are you up?”

“For you, sir, always.”

Tony recalled the time he fought his way out of the cave. He’d felt invincible. And if he played it right, he could be invisible too. No one had to know. Especially not Steve. Not in his current state. He needed to keep him safe.

“I’d like to open a new project file. Index as Mark II.”

“Shall I store this on the central database?”

“Let’s just keep everything on my private server.”

“Working on a secret project, are we?”

“I don’t want this winding up in the wrong hands.”

The safest hands were still his own. He couldn’t rely on anyone, not even Steve and his large hands to insulate him from the dangers of the world. It was something he had to do himself. And he could.

Because Tony was a mechanic. And fixing things was what he did.

***

Tony woke up screaming. His arms flailed wildly as he tried to bat away the horrors of the cave. Matted hair clung to his forehead and his clothes were soaked.

“Tony, Tony. Wake up. You had a nightmare. You’re okay. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

He paused at the sound of Steve’s voice, and his breathing began to slow down. For a while, he buried his tearful face into Steve’s chest, enjoying a few moments of silence.

“Did I wake you?” Tony asked, turning back around so he lay on his back.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” the alpha said.

“You too, huh?”

Tony glowered at the white-blue light projected onto their ceiling.

“Is it the light? It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Tony asked, referring to the arc reactor.

“It’s you,” Steve answered, matter-of-factly.

“I’m not who I used to be.”

“No, you’re not,” Steve agreed. His voice was quiet, contemplative. “Sometimes, I forget how far you’ve come. You aren’t the fearful boy I married, the one hid his tools in his underwear drawer and never looked at me.”

“You seemed to like him fine.”

“There is no version of you that I wouldn't be fond of.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand on the arc reactor. “Was I the right guy in the right place at the right time? Because you obviously didn't marry me for my perfect body.”

“I liked the way you cooked,” Steve said, after a few moments of silence.

“But I don- I only cooked after we were married. I don’t even do it anymore. You know DUM-E does the cooking, right?”

He felt Steve’s hand reaching for his. Steve’s wedding band felt warm and solid between his fingers. He wished he still had his.

“DUM-E,” Steve repeated. “You tell everyone it stands for “Damn Useless Machine” because it never does what it’s supposed to. You’re a livewire, the most unpredictable person I've met. But i think you know exactly what you’re doing. Your naming conventions, the nomenclature, they're very systematic. DUM-E is the fifth iteration in a series of robots, isn’t he? Before him, there was DUM-A, DUM-B, DUM-C and DUM-D.”

Steve squeezed his hand before continuing.

“I met them all, you know? Your robots. Before I even met you. I was at your house. You weren’t home. Your mom- She offered me a slice of your apple pie. Said it was your homework for a baking module. It was perfect. The kind of perfect that could only be made by a machine, a robot. DUM-A, I think.”

“DUM-A was the cleaning robot,” Tony protested.

“They were outside your room, sitting in a row, like children in a schoolroom. Howard said they didn’t work, complained that you spent too much time on them. But they worked, didn’t they? They all did. No one knew. Because you said the cooking machine cleaned and the cleaning machine cooked. It was DUM-A, wasn’t it?” Steve pressed.

“Yes,” he whispered, mouth dry. “How could you tell?”

“I went to finishing school like you. Back in the 30s when everyone thought I was an omega. It’s funny and sad how so little has changed. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing. That’s the curriculum, right? And that’s the order in which you made your machines. Because you created the robots to do the homework you didn’t want to do.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something but came up short. What was there to say to someone who already knew his innermost thoughts?

“You didn’t want your parents to take away your beloved robots. So, you put the wrong labels on, claimed that they were defective. But they all worked as long as one knew their purpose. And the right buttons to push.”

Tony's breath hitched. Because Steve was pushing all the right buttons now. Hitting all the nails on their heads.

“When Howard told me that you were going to be married, I put my name on top of the list, scratched all the other names out. The thought of someone getting you, without really getting you, made me physically sick. You shouldn't have to hide who you are. You can only be whoever you were meant to be."  

Tony focused on the shadow of their intertwined hands, cast by the arc reactor on the ceiling. 

“So, yes, I liked the way you cooked. And right now, I love the way you shine. You will never be too much or too little of anything because you are just the right amount of everything I love. And we may be broken for now, me more so than you. But I know you’ll put us back together.”

“I will?”

“Yes. Because you’re a mechanic, Tony. I know who you are," Steve said, yawning, as he turned on his side to go back to sleep.

“You know who I am,” Tony breathed, trying to keep his (recently-fixed) heart from bursting with happiness and affection and love. Because Steve got him. He really, really did.

He turned towards his husband and circled his arms around his neck, his arc reactor fitting nicely between Steve's shoulder blades. And it felt like all their parts, made exactly right for each other, were falling into place with the most satisfying of clicks.

Tony used to love having Steve’s arms around him, like a suit of armour. But now that he had a suit of armour (Mark II) hidden behind his secret door, Tony liked to have his arms around Steve’s neck. He was going to be his little jetpack, lifting him up so he could fly. They were going to be fine. 

Because Steve was right.

He was a mechanic. And fixing them was what he was going to do.

***

“JARVIS, are we ready?”

“We are online and ready. Although there are still terabytes of calculations before an actual flight is…”

“Sometimes, you have to run before you can walk. 3, 2, 1… Let’s fly!”

And he was off. Tony knew he could fly. The question was how high. “What’s the record for SR-71?”

“The altitude for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir.”

He never froze, not even when JARVIS warned him about a potentially fatal build-up of ice. “Keep going! Higher, further, faster!”

Then he went crashing from the high, plummeting perilously towards the ground. “J, don’t be a stranger! Break the ice!”

He was about to use his last lifeline (phone-a-spouse) when power came back and he swept away from the ground narrowly, soaring upwards amidst his shrieks of triumph.

When he finally came back down to earth, he began making improvements. “The main transducer feels sluggish. Hull pressurisation is problematic. Icing is the probable factor.”

“A very astute observation, sir. Perhaps, if you intend to visit other planets, we should improve the exoskeleton.”

“Use gold titanium alloy. Improve fuselage integrity while maintaining power-to-weight ratio.”

Hours later, Tony was appraising the Mark III.

The propulsor boots had improved flight functions and stabilisers. His repulsors, micro-missiles, shoulder-mounted guns would neutralise threats. And for emergencies, there was the unibeam. The new armour, made of gold-titanium, was light but durable and would shield him from the threats of the world.

He loved it.

“A little ostentatious, don’t you think?” he asked, in an uncharacteristic display of false-modesty.

“What was I thinking, sir? You’re usually so discreet.”

“Never change, JARVIS. Thank you.”

***

It didn’t happen overnight. But little by little, some semblance of normalcy returned to their lives. The nightmares became less frequent and Tony felt like could almost breathe again.

Consequently, Steve also seemed to be getting better, becoming less aggressive and volatile.    

Yet, somehow, Tony always felt drained, and his light sparked and dimmed unreliably.

Just like the palladium that was poisoning his blood, he had to cut out the toxic elements in his life.

Which was why he had to kill Obie.

Pepper found out it was Obie who was double-dealing with the terrorists, allowing them to own his weapons, the ones who nearly killed him. And he tried to make sure of that, by hiring Raza to take him out. And when that failed, he literally pulled the plug on him, ripping out his arc reactor to power the Iron Monger suit.

Thankfully, Dum-E, the cooking-cleaning-sewing-washing-and-now-lifesaving machine, handed him the old unit, which he used to power the new suit and go head-to-head with the old man.

“You know, Tony, when I ordered the hit on you, it pained me to kill the golden goose but you survived to give me one last golden egg. And now, I’m going to kill you with the best weapon you ever made. You had a great idea, but my suit is better in every way.”

“How’d you solve the icing problem?”

“Icing problem?”

“Might want to look into it.”

So, maybe he hadn’t killed Obie. But he’d watched Obie kill himself trying to kill him.

Jack and the beanstalk. Obie had told him that story, extolled the importance of taking advantage of life’s opportunities. And he had done just that.

Obie had scaled the corporate beanstalk, double-dealing with the enemy to line his pockets. But he wasn’t content with the bag of gold coins. He had his eye on the golden weapons company and the golden goose. And when the goose tried to escape his clutches, he decided to have it slaughtered for all the eggs he could at once. He never thought it would bite, severing the beanstalk and sending him hurtling towards death.

Obie hadn’t always been like that.

Tony remembered a man who loved Science and Technology. Obie gave him his first toolbox, convinced his dad to send him to MIT, offered to marry him – wow he really dodged that bullet there.

He’d started out with something pure. Something exciting. An adventure. Then came the mistakes, the compromises. Until he lost sight of himself in the smog around him.

Watching Obie plunge to his death was like having his heart ripped out of him for the second time in the same day. But the moment he breathed his last was when Tony felt like he could breathe, really breathe again.

***

Tony had been up all night brainstorming ways to make his suit more portable when he heard the newsflash about the crisis in Gulmira.

Ever since his capture, the Ten Rings had been on SHIELD’s radar. The consequent destruction of their bases led to them fleeing to the cities.

Glancing at the monitor, he spotted Bakaar rounding up civilians. Stark Industries. Still on their firearms. So much blood on his hands. No amount of clean energy or intelli-crops or medical prosthetics would ever be able to wipe out the red in his ledger.

The Avengers were ready to dive in to rescue the oppressed but until they got the proper clearance, their hands were tied.

Tony seethed. What was the point of being an Avenger if they couldn’t avenge the people who needed it most? How many lives had to be lost before they were allowed in?

If he were an Avenger, he’d take it up with the president. If he were an Avenger, he would -

Oh.

He wasn’t an avenger.

Tony’s mind whirred as he watched the gears in his clock spin. It was 7.00 a.m. Steve had (hopefully) just woken up. In a couple of minutes, he would be preparing to meet with the World Security Council, to negotiate the parameters of their mission.

With his suit’s supersonic capabilities, he could fly in, obliterate their bases, and be back by lunch.

He could do a home run before the team even got to first base.

“J, create flight plan. Gulmira.”

A famous man once said “We create our own demons.” The Ten Rings had no idea what sort of monster they were about to make when they took him. And he was back to haunt them in the best way possible.

Thud!

He righted himself and landed on one knee, right before they were about to slaughter a man in front of his sobbing family.

The would-be executioner turned his attention to Tony, shooting at his suit in a chorus of dings, so he punched him into the air.

His repulsors charged up, before blasting the next terrorist into a wall.

And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust. Hey, I’m gonna get you too. Another one bites the dust.

And then the cowards shouted at him to stand down, holding omegas and pups in front of them. Human shields. Proving they were the lowest of the low. Whatever tiny misgivings Tony had about his mission vaporised.

“JARVIS, target identification.”

“Targets locked on hostiles, sir.”

He lowered his repulsors, getting the brutes to lower their defences, before hitting them all with his shoulder-mounted guns.

He punched through a wall, found Bakaar.

“He’s all yours,” he boomed as he shoved him in the middle of the civilians he’d been about to murder. It was pretty clear he wasn’t going to live happily ever after.

Then Raza in a tank. They went down in a blaze. His unibeam.

And then he flew home, prepared pot roast, baked apple pie, kissed his husband, asked about his day and slept till the very next morning.

He never even once looked back. He’d come full circle. The circuit was complete.

***

The next morning, Tony woke up to the scent of blueberry pancakes on blueberry pancakes. Steve told him he’d never slept better. They discussed the headlines and mused about the identity of Iron Man. Had a debate on whether or not he was a superhero.

Tony shook his head.

Nah. With his laundry list of character defects, he wasn’t the superhero type, clearly.

He was only a mechanic. And fixing things was what he did.

Chapter Text

Tony was underwater.

It had taken him a while, almost a year, to get there. In that time, he learnt to manage his anxiety, to drift with the current, trusting his ability to find his way back to shore.

He did his job, attaching the device to a large pipe.

Steve’s voice was in his ear. “Tony, are we off the grid?”

“Avengers Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy.”

“Assuming the arc reactor works.”

Pffft. Of course it did. He was living proof.

“Light her up, Steve.”

***

Back at the tower, they watched the video feed from a drone circling their home.

“How does it look?” Tony asked.

“Like Christmas. But with a lot more – you.”

Tony beamed. “And how does it feel like to be a genius?” he asked.

“Well. I really wouldn’t know now, would I?” Steve said, smiling fondly back at him as he squeezed his hand.

And Tony was filled with a surge of emotions, so intense they threatened to spill from his lips.

I love you. The words were on the tip of his tongue. Because it was true. He loved Steve, with every ounce of his broken heart.

It was strange, perhaps, that they were married, even bonded, for close to two years and had yet to say the words. But everything they did had been backwards from the start. Besides, it wasn't a secret. They both knew, could feel it through the bond. Still, Tony thought it would be nice to say them one day.

Tony was sure that Steve would say the words back. He already said them every day, so many times in so many ways: gifts, coffee, backrubs, hand squeezes, all the loving he wanted (and he wanted a lot). So, the only reason he hadn't was because he didn’t want to give Tony any pressure. He was patiently waiting for him to go first.

Nonetheless, Steve had his words: You’re mine. I’ve got you. You’re special. I love you like this. There’s no version of you I wouldn’t be fond of.

And there were the pet names, like -

“Sweetheart?”

He was jolted by the sight of Steve holding something he wasn’t meant to see. “Is this - Iron Man’s gauntlet?” Steve asked.

Tony cursed himself for leaving it out. They were having a moment, and now it was going to be ruined. “Uh - It’s a replica,” he said, casually. “Looks just like the real thing, huh?”

Steve frowned, turning it over. “A replica? Is this some sort of light?” he asked, looking directly into the repulsor with his thumb hovering over an internal switch. 

Oh God! It was connected to an arc reactor!

Tony panicked, instantly reaching out for it. “Don’t. Okay. Yes, it is his gauntlet. Don’t. Don’t hit that. Steve. Give it to me. Please,” he pleaded, trying to snatch it back from the taller man, who held it just out of reach.

Steely blue eyes pierced his brown orbs, and Tony was pinned in his place. “Want to explain why this is in your workshop?”

“Uh - you know - ", he stammered, trying to wade his way out. "I am a weapons manufacturer.”

“Not anymore, is what you told the press. Thought we’d gone into clean energy and intelli-crops?”

“I still make the gear for you guys,” Tony pointed out.

“You have never made me anything like this,” Steve lamented. “It’s so beautiful," he continued, running his fingers over the weapon lovingly.  “And is Iron Man an Avenger now? Because funny, Fury forgot to mention. Again.”

Oh dear. Tony had to tell him. Steve really hated it when people didn't tell him stuff. 

“Uh – No. No, he isn’t. But - uh - he’ll be living here with us.”

There was a huff of disbelief. “Iron Man will be living in our basement?”

“No,” Tony said, keeping his voice level. “We - will be living in Iron Man’s attic. Also I might have hired him.”

Tony took advantage of Steve's confusion to take the gauntlet out of his hands. “Hired him? Whatever for?”

“He - is going to be my bodyguard.” Oh yes, that could work. A suit of armour was the best protection available. And it was a good alibi for the suits in his workshop. So he didn't have to hide them anymore.

“How old is he? And what does he look like?” Steve asked, curious about the friendly neighbourhood Iron Man who often made the news for foiling bank robberies and helping old ladies with directions.

“Didn’t carbon date the guy, but he’s uh - on the young side.” Everyone was, compared to Steve, anyway. “And let’s just say tall, dark, kind of handsome,” Tony mumbled, preoccupied with putting the gauntlet safely away. Twelve per cent of it was true. An argument could be made for fifteen.

“He sounds like a real swell fella,” Steve inferred, his voice sounding flat and hollow.                                

“And also, not my type at all,” he quickly added, attuned to the signs of jealous alpha. “Honestly it would be so weird, you know? I - only go for big, blond and beautiful,” he reassured, focusing fully on Steve, with the weapon safely out of reach of inquisitive alphas.

You trust him?” Steve asked, still looking troubled and unhappy.

“There's no one I trust more.

“No one?” the alpha growled, truly offended now.

Wow. He was on a roll that day. He really had a talent for ruining things with the things he said. Or didn't.  

He needed to tell Steve. Not about Iron Man, no, not that, of course. But that he loved him. 

Steve seemed a little insecure. And Tony wondered if it had anything to do with the hours and secrets he was keeping, trying to hold down two jobs and a husband all at once.

He was about to take his husband's hand, reassure him with a sincere and heartfelt declaration of love, but JARVIS came on. “Sir, Lieutenant-Colonel Rhodes is requesting access.”

“Rhodey? Is he already here? Send him down!” Tony chirped, his heart fluttering with excitement.

“Were we expecting visitors? Who’s Rhodey?” Steve asked, his frown deepening.

“He’s a friend- from work. And we also went to school together. He-”

- trailed off, as the airman entered the workshop.

“Tones, I swear I didn’t expect to see you walking so soon,” Rhodey said, pulling him into an embrace, which he returned enthusiastically.

Tony had missed him so much, hadn’t seen him since their wedding, because he’d been deployed almost immediately.

“Honey Bear!" he sighed, "I’m doing more than just walking,” Closing his eyes, he concentrated on inhaling Rhodey's safe, happy scent for a good, long minute.

“Tony?” Steve broke in, awkwardly, eyes fixed on the visitor. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Steve, this is my best friend, James Rhodes, or Rhodey. And Platypus, this is my alpha, Steve.”

Steve cocked his head sideways, looking for a bill.

“An honour to meet you, Captain,” Rhodey chirped brightly, excited at meeting his childhood hero.

“It’s all mine,” Steve returned, very polite, in the voice he reserved for people he wanted to keep at a distance. “You planning to be here long?”

“The weapons company I’m supposed to liaise with no longer makes weapons,” he said, looking pointedly at Tony. “So, I've got a new job here. Depending on how it goes, I might be here a while.”

“You're staying in the tower, right?” Tony asked.

“As long as it isn’t a repeat of spring break 1987,” Rhodey teased.

“You and I remember spring break very differently,” Tony muttered.

“I - fondly remember - fondling - the fondue,” his friend said.

Tony rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify the cheesy remark with a response. "Sourpatch, what’s that?” he asked instead, eyeing the large box in Rhodey’s hands.

“It’s for you,” Rhodey said, presenting him with a large box wrapped in paper. “Merry Christmas to my best boy.”

It was large, probably just as large as the Christmas gift Steve had proudly given him that morning and said he couldn’t open till Christmas. But Rhodey was gesturing for him to open it then.

"Thought you didn't like to be handed things," Steve muttered as he watched Tony tear the wrapping open.

“It’s the Death Star! Steve, he got me the Death Star!” he sang happily as he showed the Lego playset to his husband.

“Great,” the alpha responded, completely unimpressed.

“Oh, Colonel, shall we play? It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to stay. I know you hate Star Wars.”

“You hate Star Wars?” Rhodey asked, surprised.

“Among other things, yes,” Steve explained, tone dry.

“So we’ll see you for dinner, all right? And then Coney Island tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve said, voice tight. But Tony was too caught up in catching up with Rhodey to ask him why.

It’ll be okay. He’ll talk to Steve at dinner, and maybe tell him. Or the next day, when they finally made it to Coney Island. The top of the Wonder Wheel, with that stunning view, would be a good moment.

He watched as Steve left, smiling at that stunning view before the doors swished shut.

He loved Steve. He loved him so very much.

***

“JARVIS, where is Steve?” Tony asked, when he finally glanced up from the half-completed Lego masterpiece and realised dinnertime had come and gone.

“Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov are on their way to Stuttgart. Agent Barton appears to have been compromised. Thor’s brother, Loki, has taken the tesseract and has been spotted in Germany.”

“Where’s Thor?”

“Off world.”

“The Hulk?”

“Unavailable.”

Steve and Nat were going after Loki on their own? Not a great plan.

“Hey, Tones. I have to go,” Rhodey said after getting off the phone. "Got an early start on my new job.”

Tony nodded, waving Rhodey off.

Alone in the workshop, Tony stepped into the grid so his robots could do their magic. He tapped his foot impatiently, feeling like a toddler being dressed by the help. At the rate it was going, Steve and Nat would be done by the time he got the suit on.

Thankfully, he caught up with the quinjet just before they entered German airspace, quietly trailing behind. He was going as backup, happy to fade into the background if Romanogers had it under control.

He sighed in appreciation as he observed Steve descending from the hatch, not even bothering with a parachute. Ooh. Steve nailed the landing, shielding an elderly man from Loki’s sceptre. It's a perfect ten.

Steve and Loki had words, then Natasha and Loki had words. Loki obviously didn’t like the words because he shot a blast of blue at the quinjet, but Nat manoeuvred it expertly out of the way.

The distraction allowed Steve to hurl his shield at Loki, who swiftly flung Steve to the ground. Steve threw his shield once again at Loki who flicked it aside. Tony continued to watch, enthralled, as Steve pulled out his best moves, a deadly combination of gymnastics and boxing and ultimate frisbee.

Tony was enjoying the show till Loki knocked Steve over and pointed his sceptre at him, demanding that he kneel. And that tipped Tony over the edge, spurred him into action, because Steve, the great Captain America, would kneel for no one, not even a power-hungry demigod. Except that one time when he did a thing for Tony and it was hot as hell, but wait. Never mind. Focus. Focus.

~ Shoot to thrill, play to kill ~

Overriding the PA system with AC/DC, Tony rocketed from his position, blasting Loki backward, before touching punching down in his signature fist-and-knee-but-not-kneeling badass stance that he’d rehearsed a hundred times. Standing, he made sure he showed off the machinery on the Mark VI, going for intimidating as he swaggered toward Loki and aimed the weaponry at him.

~ I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will ~

“Make your move, Reindeer Games,” he threatened, prepared to defend his family.

“Good move,” he said, pleased, when Loki put his hands up in surrender.

“Iron Man,” Steve greeted, standing beside him.

“Captain.”

Steve nodded. “I know who you are.”

What?

Inside the suit, Tony swallowed, “You know - who I am?”

Steve’s words were drowned out by the sounds of a helicopter landing behind them. They watched, unspeaking, as Bruce hopped out and Rhodey, dressed in his air force uniform, gave them a salute.

“You were saying?” Tony asked, shouting over the noise of the spinning rotors.

Steve turned behind once more to look at the pilot of the chopper before facing Tony again, “You know what? Never mind,” he shouted back.

Back on the quinjet, Tony watched with interest as Steve pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to a smirking Natasha.

Oh.

It made sense, that Steve would think Rhodey was Iron Man. Rhodey could handle the suit. And Tony needed a sidekick. Next Christmas, he’d make Rhodey a suit, something less ostentatious. He’d always liked silver. Give him a kickass name. Iron Patriot? War Machine?

He looked up at the sound of Steve clearing his throat. The captain had been looking at the suit, appreciative eyes roving over the connections and curves for more than a few minutes. He could tell Steve was having trouble keeping his hands off the metal. Steve was so tactile. He just loved to touch.

“Iron Man," he asked softly. "Who are you? Does anyone know who you are?”

“Just Mr. Stark. I’d like to keep it that way. I’ve got family. Need to keep them safe,” he answered, impressed with his ability to keep a secret without needing to lie. The suit had a great poker face.

Steve nodded solemnly. “I understand. I’d do the same if I could.”

Tony sighed. There wasn’t a day that went by where Steve hadn’t blamed himself for the Ten Rings. “Mr. Stark will be safe with me,” he promised, trying to assuage the captain's fears.

Steve nodded. “Where’s Tony now?”

“On the way to the helicarrier. Fury invited him. Said it would be good for you to have your mate close. Also wanted to see if he could help Dr Banner track the tesseract.”

“And you?” Steve asked.

“I go wherever Mr. Stark goes,” Tony said.

***

Thor was already on the helicarrier when they got there. Taking Loki, he followed Director Fury to a super-secure glass capsule to interrogate his brother about the Chitauri threat.

Tony followed Natasha to Iron Man’s room, conveniently located opposite his quarters with Steve. Tony stripped out of his armour and fluffed his hair. Then, he skipped along the corridors, asking for directions, before one of the techs kindly directed him to a laboratory where Steve and Bruce were deep in discussion.

“So, that’s why they need iridium as a stabilising agent. So the portal won’t collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD. And it can open as wide and stay open for as long as Loki wants-” Steve was saying, looking charming in his uniform as he spouted science stuff.

“When did you - become an expert on thermonuclear astrophysics?” Tony greeted as he joined them, planting a quick kiss on Steve’s cheek.

Steve smiled, pleased to see him. “I did the required reading. Had some free time yesterday.” He pulled Tony onto his lap, so the omega could straddle his (amazing) thighs and rest his head on his (incredible) shoulder. He whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry about Coney Island, sweetheart. But you know, saving-the-world comes first.”

“Saving-the-world is the biggest cockblock of my life,” Tony grumbled. “Why - does it get to come first?”

“We can go next Saturday,” Steve murmured, nuzzling his neck apologetically.

“Next Saturday,” Tony agreed, soothed by the scent of alphaaaaa.

“Clint can get his hands on the rest of the materials easily,” Bruce said, still looking at the reports, so used to their disgusting behaviour he deserved an 8th PhD. “But he still needs a power source of high energy density. Something to kickstart the cube.”

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Steve asked, as he stroked Tony's back.

“He’ll have to heat the cube to 120 million kevin just to break through the coulomb barrier,” Tony explained, as he felt his own body warming to his husband's ministrations.

“Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilise the quantum tunnelling effect,” Bruce pointed out.

“If he could do that, he could achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on the planet,” Steve concluded, before fusing his hot mouth with Tony's.

“It’s gonna take weeks to process,” Bruce complained, glancing at them briefly before turning his attention back to the screens.

Reluctantly, Tony pulled away. “If we bypass their mainframe and direct route to the Homer cluster we can clock this at around six hundred teraflops,” he said, surprised he could still do the math with Steve's tongue in his mouth.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Bruce said, swinging around in his chair so he could look at Tony, who froze in Steve's lap, mid-caress. “You’re the only name in clean energy right now. Why weren’t you called in on the Tesseract project? What is the director not telling us?”

“I will look into that once my decryption program finishes breaking into SHIELD’s secure files,” Tony assured him. “In a few hours, we’ll know every secret SHIELD has tried to hide.”

“Tony, this isn’t what you’re supposed to be doing,” Steve said, as he lifted him onto his feet, squeezing his bottom through his jeans before giving it a firm smack.

Tony yelped, rubbing out the sting. “Steve, an intelligence organisation that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome.”

“Just find the cube,” he ordered, leaving the room, so Tony and Bruce could continue their work. In a couple of minutes, they were joined by Natasha, then Thor and finally Director Fury himself.

“When did you get here, Mr Stark?” Fury asked, and Tony nearly jumped out of his seat. “Our pilot said you were a no-show. And, what are you doing? We brought you here to locate the tesseract.”

“Uh- We are. You’ll get your cube back. But what is Phase II?” Tony asked, looking as innocent as he could.

The room tensed as its occupants waited for Fury to answer the question. Thor and Natasha approached the director, circling him without saying a word. Just before he could respond, Steve returned, slamming a large HYDRA gun on the table.

“Phase II is SHIELD using the cube to make weapons,” he said. “Sorry, Tony, the computer was a little slow for me.”

A flicker on the screen informed Tony it was in fact just in time.

“Captain," the director said. "We're just gathering everything related to the tesseract. It doesn't mean we want to make weapons.”

“Sorry, what were you - lying?” Tony asked as he flipped the screen towards the director. It had the plan for a missile.

“Well, SHIELD monitors potential threats,” Fury explained.

“And Captain America is on the threat poll?” Bruce asked, studying a list of names that had popped up on his screen.

“Apparently, we all are,” Natasha said, looking over Bruce’s shoulder.

“I am a threat!” Tony exclaimed, very thrilled. “Nat, am I above or below angry bees?”

Before Nat could respond, sirens began blaring. The helicarrier had been hit.

Agent Hill’s voice came over the public address system. “It’s a direct hit. Engine Three is down. All hands to your stations immediately.” Sounds of panic could be heard, as the crew scrambled to their stations.

In the chaos, Tony felt Steve’s hands on his shoulders, grounding him. “Tony, get Iron Man. We could use his help. Then stay in our room and do not leave. I will come for you once it’s safe.”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, hurrying out towards Iron Man’s room.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

How long did it take to put on all that armour?

Too damned long!

Ugh. Finally.

“This is Iron Man,” he said, once the faceplate closed. “On my way to Engine Three.”

“Rogers here. I’ll see you there.”

“What about us?” Natasha asked.

“Barton is headed to the detention room.”

“I’m on it,” she said.

“Loki - ” Steve began.

“Is mine,” boomed Thor.

“Banner, now might be a really good time to - ”

“Cap, don't you know?. I’m ALWAYS ANGRY,” Banner informed them, and Tony had to stop himself from squealing at the change in Bruce's voice.

Steve was already waiting by the time Tony made it to their rendezvous.

“Cap, I need you to get to that engine control panel. Tell me which relays are in overload position.”

Tony forced himself to tear his eyes away from the mesmerising sight of Steve leaping off platforms and grappling bars in an impressive display of gymnastics. He had a job to do. He really needed to impress Steve.

He began evaluating the engine, using the diagnostics on his suit to scan through different levels of machinery. He had to get the system back online before he could access the rotors and dislodge the debris.

“None. They’re all intact,” Steve told him.

“Good. Push the engine control panel back in. This thing won’t reengage without a jump. I have to get in there and push.”

“If it gets up to speed, you’ll be shredded,” Steve warned.

“Then stay in the control unit to reverse polarity long enough to disengage maglev.”

“So, pull on the red lever, slow the rotors down so you can go in and get out?” Steve clarified.

“Exactly,” Tony confirmed.

“You a mechanic too?” Steve asked, as a bunch of Loki’s men began approaching him.

“Sometimes,” he said, landing between the rotors. He began to push. The blades spun slowly at first but soon began picking up speed, giving out sparks.

“Ste- Cap, I need the lever.”

“I need a minute,” Steve panted, tirelessly knocking out their adversaries before they could get close to Tony.

“Lever! Now!” he shouted.

Noting the urgency in his voice, Steve, who was hanging off the ledge, hauled himself back into the control room. The rotors were spinning so quickly now it was impossible for Tony to escape without help.

Uh-oh.

Just when he was about to say his goodbyes and maybe something a little more sentimental, he felt the rotor slow down, allowing him to fly out and back to the ship. With his repulsor, he took out the last of Loki's men shooting at his husband.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve said, dusting himself off.

“You are pretty spry for an old fella,” Tony told him, sincere in his praise.

“And you’ve got heart, kid,” Steve said, nodding at him. It's a show of respect, and acceptance.

I love you. He almost said, thankful to be alive. But it didn't feel right, not with him in the suit.

“Uh- What do we do now, Cap?” he asked, feeling breathless with a new wave of enemies closing in.

“We fight.”

And fought they did. Like the reciprocating pistons of a well-oiled engine, they had each other’s backs, whittling their opponents down till they were the only ones left.

“Cap,” Nat said over the comms. “Barton’s back.”

“How did you get Loki out?” Steve asked.

“Cognitive recalibration,” she explained. “I hit him really hard on his head.”

“Thor?” he asked.

“Plummeting to Earth in Loki’s glass cage.”

Inside the suit, Tony groaned. Was he ever not going to fall for his brother's tricks?

“Hulk?”

“Same. Sans glass cage.”

Ouch.

“Meeting room in ten. Bring Barton. It’s just us three,” he said. “And Iron Man,” he added, after giving Tony a look. “We’re a little short-handed. You can help, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Hey- Where are you going?” Tony asked, when Steve turned to leave.

“I need to check on my mate,” Steve told him, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh shit.

Tony flew around the side of the ship, desperate to beat Steve back to the room. He powered down and stripped. Then burst out of his room to go to thes other one. The door flew outwards, and a very distressed captain came bounding out.

“Tony!”

“Steve!”

“I told you to stay in our room!”

“Uh- They said it was safe. I was looking for you.”

Steve’s face softened. “Come here,” he said, pulling Tony into his arms for a brief hug.

I love you. He nearly said, high from the adrenaline, but Steve was pulling away.

“Gotta go to a meeting. I want you to stay in our room. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” he heard him. Still working on listening.

It was time to suit up again.

***

With no leads on Loki or the tesseract, they returned to the Avengers Tower, reuniting with Thor and Bruce.

Tony and Bruce had to start from scratch. Rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition from the data gathered from all the gamma-calibrated spectrometers they had access to. Unless they could piece together the clues from all their interactions with Loki.

“Brucie-bear, how's your flight?” Tony asked, relieved to see his favourite scientist in one piece.

“Too much turbulence. Rough landing.”

Steve, however, had no time for small talk. “Whatever Loki is trying to do, he made it personal. He hit us all right where we live. Why?”

“Loki has to take us out to win. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience,” Bruce surmised.

Natasha chimed in, “Right, Steve and I caught his act at Stuttgart.”

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "That’s just a preview. What’s coming next is opening night. Loki’s a diva. He wants flowers. He wants parades. He wants a monument built in his sky with his name - - - ”

“Son of a bitch!” Steve cursed.

“Hey!” Thor protested, affronted by the insult to his family, as the rest exchanged knowing looks.

He planned to strike them right there, at the tower.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Steve began. “To harness the arc reactor, Loki has to be right here, on our rooftop. Thor, I need you to disarm him, make sure he doesn’t open the portal. Widow and Hawkeye will take the helicarrier, hold off Loki’s men. Hulk stays close to the ground. No one in and no one out.”

The objections came flying.

“93 floors is a long way up.”

“Or down.”

“Quinjet can’t do it.”

Feeling the weight of five pairs of eyes on him, Steve said, firmly, “No.”

“Why not?” Clint asked.

"He'd be great,” Natasha said. “I’ve seen him work. The suit is incredible. Its strength, the speed, the manoeuvrability -”

Steve interrupted, “His only job is to keep Tony safe.”

“Metal Man is the warrior Migard needs,” Thor proclaimed.

But Steve was shaking his head in protest. “He’s just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Clint snorted. "So were you."

Bruce shut his eyes, rubbing his temples. “At least he has a flying suit of armour with top-of-the-line Stark weaponry.”

“Come on, Cap. We need all the help we can get,” Natasha finished, appealing to Steve's practical side.

Above the cacophony of raised voices, Tony quietly said, "Let him do it."

"What?" Steve asked, certain he'd heard him wrong.

“Steve, he can do it," he said. "Let him do it. Please."

Steve paused, but finally relented, his resolve non-existent when his omega asked for things so nicely.

“Fine,” he sighed. But you go where it’s safe, all right?”

“Yes, Steve,” he agreed.

He was going to be safe. In a suit of armour, with his husband and their pack.

***

“Ready to go?” Steve asked.

“Yep. Just tying up a few loose ends.”

“Jarvis and Ana are already waiting for you in Malibu. I’ll meet you there once we’re done,” Steve assured him, squeezing his hand.

Tony nodded, eyes still on the bracelets circling his wrists, a thank-you-for-not-dying-because-I-really-love-my-job gift from Pepper.

The write-up claimed that the alternating north-south polarity orientation maximised magnetic field flow, which induced an increase in blood circulation, amongst other health benefits. He had serious doubts about their purported properties, but he appreciated the sentiment, and the fact that they cost $200 apiece. For magnets!

But gold-titanium alloy had magnetic properties, so if could find a way to get his gauntlet to attach magnetically to the bracelets, and the other bits to attach to the gauntlet, it could make suiting up a breeze, or a hurricane, because he needed it to be very, very fast.

Steve watched him, fondly. Then said, "The world as we know it might come to an end and you’re still working on his suits?”

Tony nodded. “Until the world does end, I have to act as if it intends to keep on spinning.”

“Which model are we up to already?”

“Mark VII. It’s almost done. I’m just exploring the option of having the suit envelop my- his body spontaneously by way of magnetism. I could have it attach to an accessory, something he could wear, preferably all the time.”

Steve held his hand, dragging him away from the bench.

“What? Guy has a family. I need to keep him safe, you know?” Tony said, explaining his obsession with constantly improving the armour.

“Do they know?” Steve asked.

“Nope. They don't. They'd be a wreck, always worrying about when he was going to die. Yet so proud of the man he’s become. They'd be wildly conflicted. It would drive them crazy.”

“Come here, Tony,” Steve said, pulling him close. “You drive me crazy. But I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah, me too, Steve,” Tony said, lost in soft blue eyes.

I love you. I love you very much.

***

Tony sat upright, arms beside him, stiffly. The suit was doing wonders for his posture. He listened to Steve go over their plan for the last time.

Earlier that day, Tony had waved at the team from the window of the quinjet, with Iron Man clearly visible in the seat behind. Then, Tony put on the suit, dropped out of the escape hatch and flew by the Malibu mansion before heading right back for the Avengers Tower, as Iron Man this time.

As soon as Steve had finished the briefing, the alarm sounded. All of New York was on high alert.

Despite their meticulous planning, the battle was a mess. They were greatly outnumbered and severely outmatched by the Chitauri forces. Too many close brushes with death. Loki opened the portal. The quinjet crashed. Bruce had trouble turning into the Hulk.

And then there was a Leviathan. Took everything out of them to turn it belly up. And another one, and another one. Then, a whole armada.

They found themselves standing in a circle, way out of their league, watching the alien invasion descend in waves.

“Call it, Cap,” Clint urged, urgently.

“All right. Listen up. Until we can close that portal, we’re going to use containment. Widow and me, we stay on the ground, keep the fighting here. Hawk, I want you on the roof, eyes, and arrows, on everything. Thor, you’ve got to try and bottleneck the portal. Slow them down. You’ve got the lightning. Light them bastards up. Iron Man, you’ve got the perimeter. Anything that gets out gets turned to ash. And Hulk - ” Steve paused, waiting for Bruce to complete his breath-taking transformation.

“Smash.”

Steve's speech galvanised them into action and soon everyone was on the ground or in the air, kicking lots of ass. And Hulk, angry as always, he smashed, smashed and smashed.

“Iron Man, you got a lot of strings sticking to your tail,” came Hawkeye’s voice in his ear. “Find a tight corner,” he instructed.

Tony listened. He led the party of warriors through a series of tight corners, where Hawkeye was perched in wait. He fired arrow upon arrow on the riders. When he turned around, the Chitauri were gone.

“Thanks, Hawk. What else have we got?”

“Thor’s taking a squadron down on Sixth.”

“I’m on it.”

“Widow needs a lift to the top floor of the tower.”

“I’ve got her.”

“Cap is with some trapped civilians at the bank.”

“They’re all good.”

Just as the last of the civilians had scrambled to safety, Fury’s voice came on his personal line. “Iron Man, a nuke is headed directly for the city of New York.”

Natasha’s voice came over the comms. “Guys, I can shut the portal down.”

“Do it,” Steve commanded.

It would have been the right thing to do five minutes before, but not now. Not when the city was about to be turned to dust.

“No, wait!” he protested.

“Iron Man, those things are still coming,” Steve informed him.

“We’ve got a nuke coming in and I know just where to put it,” he cried, fearing that the transmission would cut off any second. He was getting higher now.

The team stayed quiet, leaving Steve to negotiate.

“Deliver the package remotely. You don’t have to go in yourself.”

“Unless we destroy the main ship, these guys will keep coming. They’ll find a way to open another portal.”

“That main ship is impenetrable.”

“Anyone seen that really old movie A New Hope? Even the Death Star has got its flaw, a chink in its armour. I’m taking the nuke to the thermal exhaust port.”

A choked sound was heard over the communications. And Tony frowned at the wheezing noises that came through. Wasn't Steve done with his asthma?

“Please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out," Steve implored, his voice laced with emotion.

“There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s headed for New York. I gotta put her in space.”

“No. Stand down. Now.” Steve directed, his voice thick. It’s an order. Something that Tony tended to comply with. But not this. Not when millions of lives were at stake.

“If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die,” he explained. “Steve, this is my choice.”

The silence over his earpiece was finally broken by the a harsh sob. “I know - I know - who you are,” Steve said, his breath hitching.

That was good. Now, they could say their goodbyes. 

“I’m gonna have to take a raincheck on our date,” Tony told him, regretfully.

“Two Saturdays from now, at Coney Island,” Steve countered.

“You got it,” he promised. He could never say no to anything Steve wanted.

“I’ll take you to the beach. We’ll watch a game. And then we go to the fair.” It sounded so nice. He wanted to make it, if only for that one day with him.

“You going to spend your money trying to win me a stuffed bear?” he asked, because that was the yardstick of true love.

“Every dime in my wallet. Just be there.”

Hot tears sprang to his eyes. Steve loved him. He really loved him, How he wished to hear him say it, just once.

“You know, Steve, I’ve never been on the Cyclone. I heard it’s - terrifying,” he choked, finding it harder to breathe, now that he was on top of the world.

“I’ll hold your hand,” Steve offered. 

Tony swallowed painfully, already missing his sweet husband. “Good. I don’t want to throw up on your - ” were his last words before the suit began to freeze and communications became patchy.

For a long period of time, all he could hear was silence, except for the painful beating of his heart.

Without any power, he could only rely on the force to send him hurtling towards the mothership. He deposited the missile as close as he could to the thermal exhaust port and watched it implode in a supernova, with the rest of the armada. It was a heavenly sight.

And also the best place to die. Where else was he going to get a view like this?

“Tony?”

“Tony?”

“Tony?”

“Cap, we gotta close the portal.”

Tony felt his eyes closing to the sounds of muffled protests and pained sobs.

The connection was cut. He only had the bond now, to say the words, the ones he’d been trying so hard to say.

I love you, Steve. I love you very much.

Chapter Text

No.

Of all the words in the English dictionary, the word no was one of his least favourites. But Tony was learning that there were greater horrors than a clear-cut no. Such as -

Iron Man: Yes. Tony Stark: Not Recommended.

“I don’t understand. How can you approve, and not approve, of me at the same time?” he asked Fury, who wanted to see him (alone) after deploying Steve and Nat somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

“Read the report.”

Reluctantly, Tony picked up the papers in front of him and began reading.

The Iron Man suit allows the wearer to move with great speed and power, proving itself capable of supersonic flight and high-speed attacks. The armour is resistant against close-range and long-range attacks, with its superior aerial manoeuvrability allowing for evasive tactics. The targeting systems make the repulsor guns and unibeam intuitively easy to use…

Tony paused. “All this is good, right?” he asked, looking up for a quick second.

“Read on,” the director directed.

Mr Anthony Stark is a highly-intelligent individual, a decisive and deliberate fighter. Despite a lack of experience, he displays courage, selflessness and an aptitude for battle. However, Mr Stark is highly volatile, prone to reckless behaviour and insubordination, endangering his safety and that of others.

Tony paused to swallow the lump of indignation down his throat. “Insubordination? What? Excuse me, but I thought I was saving New York!” he cried.

Fury was busy composing a text message and his grim expression told Tony he was not to be disturbed. So, Tony continued reading on his own.

With the suit’s capabilities, and in the absence of other flyers, Iron Man is a strategic addition to the team. Mr Stark, however, with all his risk factors, is not. Instead, this team nominates Lieutenant-Colonel James Rhodes, with his long years of flying experience and impeccable service record, to be the wearer of the Iron Man suit.

By the time he reached the end of the page, his knuckles had turned white. “I don’t understand, Director. I thought I did okay. You told me to take care of the nuke!”

“You did, kid,” Fury said, finally putting his phone in his pocket. “And I voted for you, like the rest of the team.”

Tony frowned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Is this an omega thing? SHIELD has an issue with my gender?”

“No, believe me, we do not. It’s an alpha thing,” the man told him, patting him on the back as he swept out of the room with some sort of urgency.

“What do you mean? Which one?” Tony asked, desperate for answers but he was already gone, leaving him in the empty conference room with nothing but the papers in his hands.

Tony thumbed through the pages, trying to make sense of its inconsistencies and contradictions. He struggled to find something, a clue, to shed light on this perplexing situation. Then, he reached the final page. It was a summary of the assessment - Iron Man: Yes. Tony Stark: Not Recommended signed off by one Steven G. Rogers (Captain).

He stared in disbelief at the printed words, already beginning to smudge with the falling of hot tears. Heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach, it felt like he was plunging from the wormhole all over again.

He remembered the light, shining through the gaps in his faceplate, then flooding his vision. The first thing he saw was Steve’s tearful face smiling at him, telling him that they’d won. So, Tony smiled back, grabby hands reaching out for a hug, but the suit made it complicated.

“Tony,” Steve said.

“Shawarma?” he asked.

“Later,” was what they agreed on.

Over meat-filled wraps, they went a round, evaluating the events of the day. Widow, ever efficient, had completed her objectives, getting hold of Loki’s sceptre to close the portal. Hawkeye delivered as their eyes and arrows on top of the roof. Thor and the Hulk, their heavy hitters, were credited for annihilating close to 80 per cent of Chitauri fleet. Going by the news that was pouring in, Cap had rescued close to a thousand grateful civilians. And Iron Man had filled the gaps, providing support whenever and wherever it was needed. So, Tony was chided, then thanked, and hugged, for his heroic act of taking the nuke through the wormhole.

They returned to the tower, surprisingly intact despite the devastation in New York. Then, showered and fell into bed, falling asleep with their arms around each other.

The following day began and ended as it usually did, with neither of them bringing up the events of New York, afraid that stirring the dust that had settled would lead to a different battle of epic proportions. So, for weeks, they danced around each other, tiptoed about the issue. But now, Tony knew where Steve firmly stood.

Tony should have known that Steve would be a barrier in the way of his recent endeavours. His husband would keep him under lock and key if he could. It was why Tony had created a secret identity to begin with. It was his escape. But after all that they’d been through, Tony thought that Steve would finally see that he was quite capable of taking care of himself and give him a way out.

It clearly was wishful thinking on his part.

But was it so wrong for him to want that? To put a suit of armour around himself? And the world if he could?

Steve had been a yes in a sea of nos. Even when the world had conspired to stop him or slow him down, his husband had been his biggest champion, silencing his critics and giving him the resources, the support and space to pursue his goals.

Tony had taken these freedoms for granted. It was his fault, for letting himself get used to it. He was spoiled now. But why would he give Tony all those choices if he wasn’t going to stand by him when it counted most?

It hurt. His heart ached in all the worst possible ways, for him to learn that Steve was rejecting him like this. He couldn’t even tell Tony himself, choosing to go through the director.

His time bomb of a temper began ticking, so by the time Steve returned to the tower, post-mission, something about a hijacked vessel named The Lemurian Star, Tony was locked and loaded and ready to blow.

He was in the Mark VII. It was a childish thing to do. But the suit always made him feel safe, and powerful. He was gearing up for an uphill battle, one he wasn’t sure he’d win. And if he lost, he’d have to surrender it to the powers that be.

“Tony,” Steve sighed, tiredly, caught off-guard by the sight of Tony in full battle armour, spoiling for a fight. He paused in the doorway, taking in the waves of hostility directed his way.

Steve looked exhausted and so ready to have a nap. And Tony considered holding his fire, putting off the confrontation to another day. He could use the extra time to build his arsenal, sharpen his knives. But he had a tactical advantage, the element of surprise, and the opportunity to launch the first strike.

He chose to begin with a warning shot. Maybe they could talk this over like the adults they were, and the escalating situation could be defused.

“Did you write the report?” he questioned, trying his best to keep his face and voice neutral.

“Which one?” Steve asked, guardedly, looking wary and uncertain. Like he thought Tony was a loose cannon.

It was just the sort of act to set him off.

"You damned well know which one! Iron Man: Yes. Tony Stark: Not Recommended.  This one,” he exploded, with barely any warning, hurling the report in Steve’s direction.

He was going for the head, but a blast from the air-conditioning slowed it down, mid-hurtle, such that it hung limply in the air before falling to the ground. Like a dud.

Steve looked remorseful, but a long way from an unconditional surrender. “I did,” he finally admitted, watching him closely, in anticipation of the impending assault.

“And you never once talked to me, your husband, about it. That’s kind of dishonest, don’t you think?” he demanded, firing first.

Steve looked him over, before deflecting, coolly, “You were having a secret identity, for a whole year, and I’m the dishonest one here?”

“Would you have let me?”

For a few seconds, Steve mulled over the question. “Tony,” he said. “I am glad, I really am, grateful even, that you were there that day. But, you have to understand. I can’t. There's no way I can put you on the team.”

“And why not? Got something against omegas?” he countered. “Because I thought, you, Steve from Paramus, would know what it’s like to have doors close in your face.”

“You’re not just any omega,” Steve said, reaching for his hand, an effort Tony swiftly rebuffed with a quick slap to the bicep. Steve winced, just a bit, as the metal hit a soft spot.

A bitter laugh escaped. “I’m yours,” he said.

“You’re mine,” Steve echoed. “I promised to keep you safe. I pledged this to your parents, swore it at our wedding. You don’t belong in a battlefield, Tony. You’ll be safe at home.”

Tony let out a puff of air and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Home,” he said, “is where I was attacked. Twice. Home is where the Ten Rings found me. Home is where the alien invasion started. In case you haven’t noticed, no place is safe, Steve. That’s why I built a suit of armour around myself. It’s protection.”

Steve approached, and Tony found himself retreating, strategically placing the dining table between them. “Protection?” Steve said, voice slowly rising. “Is that what you’re calling it? A suit of armour. I get that. But repulsor guns? Micro-missiles? A unibeam? Anthony Edward Stark, you’ve built yourself a sword and you’re calling it a shield!”

Tony stiffened in response to the volley of accusations. It was all or nothing. “And, so what if I did?” he demanded, standing his ground, putting his fists and all of his cards on the table.

They stared at each other in silence, the tension between them mounting amidst the tentative ceasefire.

Steve took a deep breath before his next attempt, a flanking manoeuvre this time. “Why are you so keen to fight?” he asked, softly, looking deeply into his eyes like it contained the answers to all his questions. “There are so many important jobs.”

“This is what I want,” he answered. “I shouldn’t be alive. Unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Steve. I know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right.”

Steve nodded, and his eyes softened in understanding. For a moment, Tony thought he'd finally got through.

“You’re brave, Tony. And very strong. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done. But, listen to me, you don’t have to do this anymore. You’ve saved the world, ridded it of its monsters. The suit is a nuclear deterrent. And we can take it from here.”

Tony’s eyes widened, then narrowed, as he realised what his husband was trying to do. “Well, you can forget it,” he snapped. I am Iron Man. The suit and I are one. To turn over the Iron Man suit would be to turn over myself which is tantamount to indentured servitude in New Jersey or prostitution in New York. You. Can’t. Have. It,” he said.

“I don’t know about that,” Steve muttered.

Tony let out a derisive snort. “About what? Prostitution? Of course, not. You’re Captain America, the First Avenger, Sentinel of Liberty, most alpha alpha to ever alpha. What would you know about prostitution?”

“You know what? We’re done,” Steve said, decisively, switching to his captain’s voice. “I was hoping you were going to be reasonable. But it doesn’t matter.”

Tony’s mouth fell open. Whatever did Steve mean?

“Tony,” Steve said, beginning to look extremely uncomfortable, like he was waging an internal war inside himself. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need the suit.”

“And I said no,” he resisted, although his eyes were growing wider with each step that Steve was taking towards him.

“Tony,” Steve said, his voice dangerously soft, though his eyes and the set to his jaw and his whole damned face was hard. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Give it to me. And I won’t take anything else from you again. I promise.”

Tony couldn’t move, not when his heart felt like it was being ripped apart, not when his body felt like it was being torn into different directions. He wanted to keep the suit, of course he did. It was something he built. It was a part of him.

But Steve was not backing off, or coming down from his moral high ground. And there was something in his expression, a coldness, a darkness, a hardness, that had never been there before. He realised that he was being threatened. And he was afraid.

His helmet was already on the table, discarded in the midst of their back-and-forth. Trembling hands found their way to the jet boots, which were removed, one by one, and lined up beside the helmet. The thigh guards were next, and Tony paused to pick one up, when it fell to the ground with a loud clang. There was a struggle to unfasten the chest plate and Steve stepped forward, trying to assist, only to be held back by Tony’s hand. He shrugged off the arm plates, peeling them from his skin. Then, finally, with a great deal of reluctance, he unclicked the gauntlets, revealing his bare hands.

By the time all the pieces of his armour were lying neatly in a row on their dining table, Tony felt so exposed and vulnerable he might as well have been naked. He was drained, and all the fight had left his body. Shaking so badly he could barely stand, it was impossible to tell with whom he was angrier, Steve or himself.

Steve might have won the battle. But Tony would make sure he lost the war. It would be a Pyrrhic victory, so devastating that Steve might as well have been the one vanquished.

He turned to face the source of his pain. “I hate you,” he fired, blindly, the tears in his eyes making it hard to see.

Steve reared back, eyes wide and mouth agape, as though he’d been slapped. “Tony, please,” he entreated, reaching for him in a way that almost seemed desperate.

Tony sidestepped the approach, rejecting his touch. “You know, Rogers?” he said, the use of his last name expanding the impossibly-wide rift between them. “All my life, I just wanted to be like you. I thought - I thought you were special.”

Steve blinked, swallowed uneasily, as if to brace himself. And Tony had nothing left to lose.

“But everything special about you - came - out - of - a - bottle,” he said, punctuating the words like stabs to the heart.

He turned his back to him, marching away with long, purposeful strides. It’s the final blow, the twist of a bayonet. Because no alpha, not even the bravest and strongest, could stand to see their omega walking away from them, the way he was.

He walked about a hundred steps, barely making it outside the tower before he fell apart, bawling his eyes out by the side of the building.

Happy was beside him in a moment, taking in his tearful expression and the bags he’d packed in anticipation of this outcome. “Do you need me to find you accommodation?” he asked.

“No, Happy. Take me home.”

“Home home?

“Yes, home home,” he said, burying his head in his hands.

It wasn’t very long before he noticed how quiet it was. Not quiet quiet, but quiet quiet. It’s a peculiar sensation, one that he hadn’t experienced since –

The bond.

Their bond.

It was closed.

Chapter Text

The couple on the patio were enjoying their 7 o’ clock sherry when they heard the sound of tyres running over the pebbled driveway. They stood up, staring in disbelief, as Tony came bounding towards their residence on the estate. 

“In polite society, one normally telephones ahead before trespassing,” Jarvis said, with an amused but fond expression on his face.

Tony lost the valiant battle with his tears, blotting them with his sleeve. “I’m sorry to impose,” he apologised. “I – I’ve lost my way.”

“In that case,” Jarvis said, taking his bags. “You’re right where you need to be.”

“Welcome home, sweetie,” Ana said, drawing him into her perfumed arms.

They pulled him into their house, and sat him down by the fireplace to warm up. He wasn’t ready to talk and they weren’t the sort to push. So, they fed him with apple tortes, chocolate souffles and butter cake, all of which helped somewhat to stop the tears lift his spirits.

After that, they got him settled into his old room at his parents’ home. In bed, he reviewed the messages on his Starkphone, one of their recently-launched successes.  There were a couple of texts from Pepper about the MIT commencement speech, which he promptly replied (to avoid being harangued). And a few texts from Rhodey asking why the tower was so quiet and where everyone was, which he promptly ignored.

Nothing from Steve. He opened their conversation to check that he hadn’t missed anything. Tense fingers hovered over the keypad as he considered sending a note before he tapped the x in the corner of his screen.

He was going to bed. Breakfast would be at eight the next morning and he didn’t want to be late. Besides, Tony was exhausted. He would close his eyes and drift off into a deep, restful slumber, fall fast asleep so he didn’t have to think of Steve.

He stayed awake all damned night.

***

The door opened just as he was about to knock, precisely at eight in the morning.

“Your timing is impeccable,” Jarvis said, holding the door so Tony could step inside and follow him to the kitchen. “Ana’s got a last-minute appointment and I’m just about to boil the eggs. Coffee is ready though.”

“Thank God for that,” he said, accepting a cup. “Where’s Cook?”

“I had to let her go,” he informed him with a sigh. “Last summer, I caught her pocketing the good spoons.”

“Nooooo!” Tony gasped, eyes as wide as saucers. “Tell me everything.”

Jarvis rolled up his sleeves, to put on the kettle and spill the tea. “It wasn’t her first time. She started with the small things, and thereafter got bolder. She’d literally put the silver spoons in her pocket. I can’t imagine what she was thinking.”

“Dad used to say that the moment you think you know what’s going on in a woman’s head, is when your goose is well and truly cooked.”

“I wonder why. I have found most women, your mother included, to be quite uncomplicated,” he said, lowering the eggs into the boiling water. “You, on the other hand, are a hard egg to crack. So, tell me, young sir, what’s bothering you?” he asked.

“Steve’s a jerk,” he complained, with a lot less heat now that he’d had a whole night to sleep stay awake over it.

Jarvis kept a lid on the pot, before turning to face him. “I’m going to need you to elaborate,” he said, with a raised eyebrow.

Tony opened and closed his mouth. The sleep deprivation must be affecting his memory. He’d been so mad at Steve the previous day. Forget Ten Things I Hate About You, he could have written a hundred things he despised about the man. But now, he could only remember one.

“He’s cracked, J. He’s been absolutely rotten.”

“Does this have something to do with your secret identity?”

“Ho - wha – how - how’d you even know about that?” he asked, bewildered. His secret identity was, thankfully, still very much a secret, with only the team having seen him in the suit.

But Jarvis knew. He knew everything.

“You missed our little reunion in Malibu. And I was sure I’d seen that suit somewhere. Perhaps in Winghead and Shellhead. Oh, no. That armour was silver and very, very bulky. The red and gold one was in Ironshield Bros, wasn’t it?”

Tony coughed, interrupting the embarrassing reminder of his self-insert comic books, written and illustrated during a Captain America phase he never grew out of. “J, the eggs!” he cried.

It was meant to be a diversion, but Tony soon learnt that something had, in fact, gone terribly wrong.

“They’ve cracked,” Jarvis observed, frowning at the liquid oozing out of the cracks. “Must have been rotten,” he hypothesised.

Tony didn’t agree. It was curious though. Eggs didn’t normally do that, unless - “Uh, J, were they from the icebox?”

“They were,” Jarvis admitted, turning the stove off.

Tony bit his lip. “You can’t. It’s not the eggs. It’s the shock, the change in temperature that’s-” he broke off when he noticed the look on the older man’s face.

He let out a quiet huff before taking his place at the stove, stirring up a gentle whirlpool. The contents of a broken egg were emptied inside and it didn’t take long before the clear liquid surrounding the yolk turned white. Serving the poached egg in a bowl, he presented it to Jarvis.

“Good save,” Jarvis commended, accepting the bowl with a look of delight. “You know how fond I am of poached eggs. And this, it looks splendid.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Tony said, after he’d given himself time to consider the point Jarvis was making. “So maybe, I shouldn’t have kept my secrets. That’s on me. But freaking out and writing that report to keep me off the team, that’s on him. He told me -”

Over eggs and toast, Jarvis listened patiently as Tony, back to his characteristic hyperverbal self, launched into a ten-minute tirade about Steve, his outdated beliefs, illogical arguments and hypocritical ways.

“So, you’re not allowed to be Iron Man,” he summarised for him, post-rant.

He shook his head, looking miserable. “Steve said no.”

“How odd. Do you listen to what people tell you now? Because your father said no when you wanted to drive his car, and it hadn’t stopped you then,” he said, bringing up a memory back when Tony was fourteen. “Oh, he was furious,” he said.

“No-cake-for-a-month furious,” he agreed, laughing.

“Your just desserts,” Jarvis said. “Though I’m sure you learnt your lesson?”

“There is nothing just about no desserts,” he solemnly answered, before falling back into a little grin. “But I did. Learn my lesson. And it wasn’t the one Dad was trying to teach.”

“What an enigma your father was,” Jarvis said, looking outside, eyes finally settling on the small road leading to the main house. “He expressly forbade you from driving, punished you for doing so, and finally decided on teaching you himself.”

“Our roads are fraught with danger,” Tony began. “And, well, you know, anything can happen.”

“I must say,” Jarvis began, a dark look clouding his face. “There have been a few things troubling me about your parents’ accident.”

Tony was up in his seat, leaning forward, in a moment. “You too, huh?”

“I thought it was peculiar how your father was suddenly so eager, desperate even, to marry you off. And writing that letter just before he left? The timing was uncanny. It was as though he knew. I think - I suspect there might have been a previous attempt on his life.”

“I’ve been doing some research myself,” Tony admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. “Found a few points of interest, some things that didn’t quite add up.”

“I hope you’ll be careful, young sir. The world is changing. The Ten Rings, the Chitauri and now the Mandarin,” he said, recalling the recent spate of attacks on humanity. “Don’t trust anyone. And please remember that nothing you find can ever bring them back.”

“I know,” he said miserably. “I miss him, J.” 

Jarvis offered him a look of commiseration, patting his hand lightly. “Fathers and sons. It’s a difficult relationship to manoeuvre. On both sides. But time heals all wounds.”

Tony nodded mutely, appetite gone.

They spent the rest of the morning in a companionable sort of silence, lost in their thoughts. Picking at the food on his plate, Tony wondered how Steve, the only family he had left, was getting on without him. Steve knew how to cook boil everything. He would probably be fine. Probably.   

***

The next morning, Tony woke up drenched in perspiration. His pyjamas, his sheets, were soaked.

He hadn’t had those nightmares in a while, if one could even call them that. He never knew where the dreams ended and the memories began, the lines blurring with the years that had passed.

He could still see the vivid images in his mind. The metal arm and the man who wore it, tragically beautiful and beautifully tragic.

He could still hear the sounds, as though they were right there, in the next room. The clashing of metal on flesh and flesh on metal, the screaming, the pleading, the crying, the begging.

He could still feel the regret washing over him, ebbing and flowing ever so often, all the what-ifs and maybes tormenting him day and night.

For some time, Steve’s calming presence in his mind had kept the nightmares away. But where the bond had once been was now a void, leaving room for the monsters to come back. Something must have triggered the memories, many he wished to forget and more he knew he could not.  

If only Steve were here. He’d make it all better, reinforce his walls, fend off the ghosts of his distant past. It was too bad then. He had made his bed and he was going to have to sleep in it.

Or maybe not.

It was only four in the morning, and he was getting up. There was so much to be done. And Tony had a feeling that time was running out.

***

Happy was taking him back to the tower, mid-morning, to pick up some things. He hadn’t thought of packing them, in his hurry to leave Steve and his pain behind. But, they were important and indispensable. And he needed them as soon as possible. 

He typed a message:

Heading to the tower to pick up some stuff. I don’t want to see you.

Then, he hit send and waited.

He frowned at the reply, which came almost immediately:

Okay.

That was the response he wanted, wasn’t it? Then why did it make him feel so bad?

I’m sorry was what he wanted to say, and he did type the words before quickly deleting them. Because it was how he felt. He was sorry. And he hated himself for it.

The penthouse wasn’t a complete disaster, objectively speaking, but it had been evacuated in a hurry. Half-fried bacon lay sizzling in a warm pan and bowls of beaten eggs were chucked messily on the kitchen counter.

 DUM-E scooted over, wrapping his arm around him.

“Hey, buddy, I missed you too. But what’s with the mess? You should have handled it.”

A few beeps and some oscillations. DUM-E was shaking his head.

Tony sighed heavily. “J,” he called, addressing the AI. “Can’t you get food organised for the captain? You’ve got his schedule. You know when he’s around.”

“I have my duties to see to. I’ll have to see what I can do,” JARVIS told him.

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. At least he was keeping both the kids in the divorce. But judging from the condition of the penthouse, they might have to stay with Steve for a while.

He picked up from where Steve had left off, plating the scrambled eggs and bacon before washing up, taking his time to scrub the sink and wipe down the surfaces. It was so annoying, like unfinished sentences or incomplete puzzles, when things were done half-heartedly.

Clothes were strewn all over the bed, a sight that hurt his eyes. Sighing heavily, he folded and sorted the mess into neat piles. Finding yet another one of his shirts in the pile, Tony decided to do the laundry. He didn’t want Steve wearing out his band tees just because he was out of fresh clothes.

From the laundry basket, he fished out the stealth suit Steve had worn on his last mission. Gross. It was covered in blood, probably belonging to Georges Batroc. He’d heard the rumours. That guy had a rep for maximum casualties. It was no wonder Steve had been so pissed coming home from that mission.

He sent the requisition to SI for a new suit before taking out the sewing kit for a few quick stitches.  With the company’s reputation on the line, it wouldn’t do for Steve to be seen with tears in the uniform. And it could be some time before the replacement arrived, even though he’d marked it as super super urgent.

Finally, he went around the house, collecting the items on his list. He placed some files in his suitcase, then picked up the rest: a pillow, a blanket, some clothes (not one of them his).

He told JARVIS to inform the captain he was leaving and reminded DUM-E to be good for his pops, programming him to manage the meals, housekeeping and laundry. Then, with a heavy heart, he waved goodbye to his robot child as the doors swished shut.

***

Tony found Jarvis bent over a flowerbed, hands and knees covered in dirt. “Do I want to know what happened to the gardener? Was he pocketing the good shovels?”

Jarvis stopped what he was doing, shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. “Mr Perkins is currently, or might I say, perpetually, busy running after your father’s flamingo. So, the task of managing the gardens has fallen on our shoulders.”

“Or just yours, maybe?” Tony asked, noting that Ana wasn’t around for the third day in a row.

Jarvis shrugged. “You know what they say? Plant and you plant together. Weed and you weed alone. Ana’s always busy when it’s time to take out the weeds. She’s gone to the atelier.” he explained, referring to Ana’s private workshop, where she made bespoke jewellery for an exclusive clientele.

Tony flashed him a wry smile. “Rush job for an important client, eh?”

“Something like that,” Jarvis answered. She’s a good gardener though. I’ll give her that. She has a knack for selecting the best blooms. And she’s fastidious about the watering. She’s found that perfect balance between tending to them without overdoing it, and they flourish under her care.”

“They are beautiful,” Tony agreed, putting on a pair of gloves and getting down on his knees to help.

“You’ve got to be careful with the weeds,” Jarvis told him. There’s no way to tell at first, with them pretending to be the plants you’ve sown. But time reveals their true nature. Then, you need to quickly nip the imposters in the bud. They spread so quickly, taking the light and all the good stuff with them, so much so that even the strongest and most beautiful of your plants will wither and die.”

“Is that what happened there?” Tony asked, pointing to a bare patch of grass with a single sapling growing on it.

Jarvis shook his head, looking sad. “Sometimes, one can only do so much. The heavy rains last month wiped out our rose garden, which was growing right there. Nature, however, has her way of showing you the best plants to grow, and the ones that can weather a storm.”

Looking at the sapling, he continued, “The other day, I found this lemon sapling sprouting right here. A stray animal must have taken it. And a new idea has taken root. Just imagine! A lemon grove on these grounds? Ana would be pleased.”

She would be. Ana loved her lemons. They both did, adding slices of them into their beverages and zesting all their desserts. And it was just like Jarvis to always be on the lookout for ways to make her happy.

Tony smiled in satisfaction as his gloved hands pulled out a particularly nasty sprout of black nightshade. Stalk by stalk, he weeded out the omissions and secrets and lies that had taken root in his heart and by evening, despite the hard work, felt fresh and zesty and full of life.

***

Tony had been cleaning his room, sorting things into piles, when he found his comics: Tony and the Howling Commandoes; Winghead and Shellhead, Iron Shield Bros and a new one –

Tony and Steve.

He knew Steve had been sketching, but he hadn’t known what it was. He balked at the thought of Steve reading his amateur work before illustrating his response - the masterpiece in his hands.

He couldn’t contain the smile spreading across his face, as he read the comic about two married engineers, dominating saving the world, one invention at a time.

He wondered if 1940s sickly Steve, who illustrated comic books for a living, had ever once considered the possibility of being an enhanced human being who read books about coding algorithms and programming language in his free time. 

A marriage was a collision of two worlds, the destruction of individual pasts and the construction of a shared future. A couple often had to give up parts of themselves in order to fit.

Some things, those at the superficial level, were easy to relinquish. Trying new cuisines, watching the films one hated, studying a new subject required no real sacrifice. But it became harder, more painful and sometimes, even impossible to surrender the parts one held close, as they tried to forge connections at deeper levels.

He eyed the robots at the foot of his bed, the damned useless machines, which had once given Steve a glimpse of who he was.  Tony had been euphoric that night, when Steve had told him he was a mechanic. He was thrilled at having found a kindred spirit, someone who understood.

Neither of them had known then, but there was even more to him, a deeper layer, to be unearthed only by the most catastrophic of events. 

He knew it now, and he wondered if Steve one day would. That stripped of all his armour and coverings, at the heart of it all, right down to the core -

He was Iron Man.  

And he would never be able to give that up.

***

His white pawn reached the eighth rank, and Tony promoted it to a queen, prompting a quick exchange of glances between his opponent and his wife. It’s a blunder. One that someone like him shouldn’t have made.

It didn’t take long for his opponent to capitalise on his mistake, and very soon, it was checkmate.

“You won,” Tony said, beaming graciously at the man who taught him to play.

“That’s enough chess for tonight,” Ana decided. “I’ve made dessert. Come and help me serve it.” Lured by the aroma of blueberry muffins, Tony followed her dutifully to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to let him win.” Ana said, when they were alone. Edwin knows what you’re doing. And it takes the fun out of the game.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s a compromise. Nobody likes a show-off. And everyone likes to win.”

“So, three games each? Do you alternate? Or you let him win three in a row?” she asked, drily.

He ignored the questions. “They smell amazing,” he said instead, watching her place the mini-muffins on a serving tray. “Are they all for me?”

“Edwin likes them so you’ll just have to compromise. Three each sound fair?” she teased, before relenting at the sight of his disappointed face. “I’m kidding, dear. You can have the batch. I’ve got a slice of his favourite lemon cake. And I’m baking a new one tomorrow.”

Jarvis had just about finished pouring tea into their cups when they returned with dessert. “Lemon cake,” he said, cheerfully accepting the plate from Tony. Then, he turned to Ana, casually asking, “Have we got more lemons, darling?”

“Why?” she asked. “We’re down to our last one.”

“Can I have it? I’m working on a little project.”

“I was hoping to use it myself,” she told him, quietly. And there was no missing the consternation in her voice.

“Then, you take it, my dear,” Jarvis offered, without any hesitation.

“Oh no, you take it,” she insisted, almost immediately.

And, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to her, she said, “Tony’s been teaching me about compromise, you know? What would you say to half a lemon each?”

What?  That wouldn’t work. These two needed to communicate (better).

“Uh – guys,” he interrupted. “I think Jarvis wants the pips. And Ana wants the zest. So you could, maybe, just take the parts you want? And leave me the rest for lemonade.”

“That works,” they piped in unison, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, as they held hands across the table.

They were so sweet that Tony wanted to throw up.

“So, Tony, what are you going to do about Captain Rogers?” Ana asked, putting a stop to the retching noises he was making in the background. “You going to compromise? Because I’ve decided I quite like it after all.”

“It’s too hard, Ana,” he sighed, feeling helpless and sorry for himself. “It’s a stalemate. And I’ve got no more moves.”

“It’s not so hard,” she said, smiling cheerfully at Tony over the rim of her teacup. “Compromise when you can. And when you can’t, don’t.”

“I can’t,” he told her. “Not when I know that what I’m doing is right.”

“Then,” she said, “You need to plant yourself like a tree, look him in the eye and tell him to make his move.”

Tony laughed. “See, that is exactly the sort of thing Steve does. And he gets away with it too. It’s not fair. Life is just so much easier when you’re an alpha,” he added.

But Jarvis disagreed. “Life is hard, whoever you are. It is never going to be easy to take the high road, especially when you’re struggling at the intersections on your long journey home.”

Tony considered the truth of that statement.

They had started out, at the beginning, walking side by side. Along the way, Tony had wandered off, made a few detours, without giving Steve a chance to follow. With time, they’d drifted far from each other, losing sight of their destination.

A compromise meant meeting in the middle, a halfway point he couldn’t move to. There were too many positions from which he could not budge. But the collision of their worlds had also created new paths, and there were so many other places to meet halfway. The distance wasn’t so large that it couldn’t be crossed. And they had just enough common ground between them to find their way back to each other.

Nonetheless, it would be hard work and an exhausting journey. But wasn’t that how it was for everything worth working for?

Listening to the Jarvises discuss the difficulties of life brought to mind a boulevard, lined with fresh green grass and lemon trees. It was a eureka moment, an epiphany, and a vision of the path ahead of him.

So, when Ana remarked that the grass always looked greener on the other side, he argued that it was greenest where it’s been watered, weeded and allowed to thrive. From the looks of approval sent his way, he knew then that he’d read the signs and read them right.

It had been a week of small talk and big revelations.

But he was ready to go home.

***

“You know, J,” he told Jarvis, taking his bags from the man. “It’s a shame you and Ana never had children of your own.”

It’s a statement, a candid one, that Tony had made many times. A statement which invariably provoked the same series of responses.

A sad look in the eyes, followed by a quiet smile and a cheerful reply, with all the sincerity and affection in the world. “We had you.”

“Thank you for -,” he said, gesturing vaguely. Because he never knew what he was thanking Jarvis for. What he knew was that every time he found himself in a quandary, a tight spot, a jam, Jarvis was already there in his corner, ready to show him the way out.

And he came to realise there were three kinds of guardian angels. There were the Howard Starks, who drove you down well-trodden roads paved with good intentions. There were the Steve Rogerses who trailblazed through the wilderness to build you highways. And finally, there were the Edwin Jarvises, who gently guided lost children back onto their boulevards of mended dreams, one roundabout comment at a time.

It dawned on him how very fortunate he was. Because his life had been blessed with all three.

With Happy behind the wheel, they drove the long, winding road through town, passing a number of familiar landmarks.

Tony reminisced about Saturday evening motorcycle rides with his arms closely wrapped around Steve’s warm body. Riding slowly, his husband had pointed out the various alleys, parking lots and diners, where he’d ever got beat up.

Tony had been teasing when he asked if Steve had something against running away. But Steve had been earnest and sincere in telling him that running wasn’t a solution. But fighting was. And if you loved or wanted something badly enough, you’d always stay and fight for it.

What was he thinking? Telling Steve that all his special qualities came from a bottle. It was a pathetic insult. And what was worse, was that it wasn’t even true.

Steve was special. He was special in every way. The serum amplified whatever a man was. It transformed what was good to great.

And Steve was the one of the most extraordinary people he’d ever known.

***

His arrival at the tower was greeted by an eerie silence. Rhodey hadn’t been exaggerating about how quiet it was. He soon realised how much of the tower's activity had previously revolved around SHIELD, not till they'd moved out into their own headquarters at Washington D.C., leaving the first thirty floors of the building vacant. Not finding Steve in their apartment, he headed to the workshop, but he didn’t find him there either.

Tony did, however, find something else. A silver box, with a glass cutout. On it were etched the words: PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS MY HEART

They were quirky and goofy and could only be the work of one person he knew. Tony laughed, finally recognising who Ana’s mysterious client was.

He caught a glimpse the jewellery inside. It was a ring, a simple band, embellished with blue stones, sapphires perhaps, set in the shape of his first arc reactor.

He picked up the elegant piece, marvelling at Steve’s magical ability to turn art into science and science into art. And what he had in his hands was nothing short of beautiful and poetic.  

He knew exactly what it was.

It wasn’t a replacement, because the original was well and truly gone, buried in the sands of Gulmira, like the person he’d once been. This was a new ring for the person he was now.

And Steve was asking for his hand.

He must have been called away urgently, leaving behind an incomplete note:

Dear Tony,

I’m sorry. I was a jerk.

Tony laughed at the verity of that statement. It didn’t mean that things were instantly all right between them. There were a number of words they needed to have. A few compromises to be made. And a lot of forgiveness to go around. But the ring was so pretty and right there and no one was looking and he was only going to try it on for size.

Wow. It was beautiful.

His phone rang. The call was from an unlisted number.

“Steve?” he said, cheerfully, into the receiver.

“Stark, this is Hill. We need you to come in. Fury’s been shot. Cap and Widow are missing. And SHIELD’s been compromised.”

Chapter Text

At the penthouse, Tony found Fury lying on an armchair. Music was playing on their turntable. He stopped in his tracks, looking warily at the man of secrets. “I don’t remember giving you the access codes.”

“You really think I’d need them?” Fury said, his voice strained. “Wife kicked me out.”

Tony noticed the blood on the upholstery and hurried over with fresh towels.

“I’m sorry to do this, but I had no other place to crash,” he said, showing Tony a message [SHIELD compromised].

“Who else knows about your wife?”

“Just my friends,” Fury answered, this time showing him a new message [You and Hill].

Tony was surprised. “That’s what we are?” he asked.

“That’s up to you," he said. 

"Gum?” Fury offered, after a pause, although he held out a flash drive, which Tony reluctantly accepted and slipped into the pocket of his jeans. Then, Fury sank down further in the armchair and closed his eyes.

“Foxtrot is down. He’s unresponsive. We need EMTs,” Agent Hill said into her phone when she got there. 

She began CPR while waiting for the medics to take his lifeless body to the emergency room. There, they watched, with bated breath, as the professionals tried (unsuccessfully) to revive him.

Questions swam around in his head as he tried to make sense of what had gone wrong. The public reaction to their response to New York attack had been largely positive. Apart from a handful of cynics like Miss Everhart, people were thankful that they had been around to stop the attack. So, who could possibly want Fury dead?

And where were Steve and Nat? Agent Hill said she’d sent them to assist Fury but they’d gone dark, making it impossible for her to confirm their involvement in a second shootout along the freeway. Had they been shot too?

His heart sank at the idea that Steve and Nat could be lying in some ditch, bleeding to death. Dread pooled at the pit of his belly as he recalled the last things he’d said to Steve – I hate you; Everything special about you came out of a bottle; I don’t want to see you. At that moment, all he wanted was to see Steve again, safe and sound.

He slipped his hand in his pocket to check that Fury’s flash drive was still there. The director had spent his last few minutes of his life racing back to the tower just to hand it to him. Tony could only hope it contained the answers to the millions of questions racing through his mind.

Before they could pull a sheet over the body, Agent Hill whisked him off into her SUV. She spoke over the phone in hushed whispers, stressing to someone that they were operating under “deep shadow conditions”. Finally, after hours of driving down unmarked lanes that were off the map, she pulled into a nondescript compound in the middle of nowhere, referring to it as The Playground.

“A secret base. Why am I not surprised?” Tony commented, as he stepped out of the vehicle.

“Can’t stop something that doesn’t exist. Can’t kill a man who’s already dead. You remember Agent Coulson, right?” Hill asked, when she saw Tony gawking at the man walking toward the car.  

“I do. I cried at your memorial,” he said, gingerly shaking the hand offered to him. “Hi -  Ho - How are you? How are you not dead? Loki’s glow stick went right through your heart.”

“I was dead, Mr Stark,” Coulson informed him. “For a few days. But boss man said clocking out wasn't an option.”

“Then- How- ,” Tony asked, struggling with the words. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

“Technically, it’s Science. We gave him Extremis,” Hill answered. “Widow got us samples during our investigation. The virus, stabilised with Kree blood, resurrected him. Then, we kept him somewhere safe while he recuperated.”

“Tahiti. Magical place. Heaven,” he said, swooning.

“More like hell. You begged us to let you die,” she reminded him. “In any case, Bruce created an antidote and he’s been cured.”

“I am,” Coulson assured him. “Not going to blow up on you, I promise.”

“You planning to use the virus on Fury?”

“There isn’t any left. The antidote though, we’ve got a lot,” Coulson said, pointing to a large refrigerated cupboard where the counteragents were kept.

“There’s been a correlation between the recent explosions and the wave of people signing up for testing,” Hill explained when she noticed his confusion. “We think - the Mandarin campaign is a coverup for the incidental explosions of Extremis carriers.

“This is where you’ll be working,” Coulson said, opening a series of highly-secure doors to a laboratory of sorts. “It’s SHIELD’s version of Candyland.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Tony cried in disbelief, throwing his hands up. “Fury’s secrets have secrets.”

“They do,” Coulson agreed. “And you’re going to find them all.” 

***

What he first needed to find were Steve and Nat, so he hacked into surveillance systems and accessed the cameras along the freeways. He found Fury leaving the Triskelion, and followed his SUV on a relatively uneventful drive towards NYC, where things took a dramatic turn on the interstate, just outside the city.

A masked man in the way of his speeding vehicle fired a disc grenade, which exploded, flipping Fury’s car. The car careened in the direction of the mysterious stranger, who calmly stepped aside at the last second, and then, it crashed onto the highway. The assassin made his way to the wreck, ripping the door in an impressive display of strength.

Fury, however, was nowhere to be found.

So, Tony directed his efforts toward locating Steve and Nat. He found them speeding down the freeway towards Fury’s crash. Tony’s hand flew over his mouth when the same masked man, who attached Fury, landed on the roof of their car, shooting through the roof directly at Nat.

Her feet came off the dash, and she scrambled onto Steve’s lap, firing back. The assassin punched through the roof and ripped off the steering wheel, tossing it into the path of an oncoming truck. Steve hit the brakes, throwing the assassin off. With an impressive tumble, he landed on his feet, dragging his metal arm through the tarmac as he came to a stop.

To Tony’s horror, the masked man wasn’t working alone. His blood turned to ice as he saw Steve rip out the car door, covering himself and Natasha, as they ran into a hail of bullets. Like the gentleman he was, Steve pushed her out of the way, taking the heat.

Wow. A car door. Good luck covering yourself against an-

“RPG! STEVE! RPG!” he shrieked at the screen as Hill held his arm to calm him down.

A rocket-propelled grenade launched Steve off the freeway, through the windows of a bus. Nat leapt off after him, disappearing from their screens.

Tony tried to slow down his breathing as he shifted his attention to the camera facing on the bus. Tony counted four mercenaries closing in, firearms trained on the vehicle. Their machine guns swept the vehicle from the front to the back. Biting his nails, Tony imagined Steve running the gauntlet of bullets, before diving out the back window and rolling out of sight.

Before he could locate either Steve or Nat, he found the masked assassin, on another monitor, jumping off the freeway onto a car, crushing its roof and that of countless unfortunate others. He was objectively mesmerising to watch - good hair, killer thighs and trademark death strut. Finally, he hit the ground, striding purposefully in pursuit of his target.

He paused, listening closely to something. Tony increased the volume of the speakers to hear a woman’s voice – Nat’s. The assassin crouched. With slow, deliberate moves, he retrieved a grenade from one of numerous pockets and rolled it under a car. It exploded, tearing the car into pieces.

Tony sank into his chair, temporarily relieved, when Nat showed up on the adjacent screen. She was sitting on the assassin’s shoulders, trying to strangle him with a garotte. She looked like she was saying, “You could have at least remembered me”. He obviously did not, tossing her off and onto the bonnet of a car with nary a second glance.

Nat rolled off quickly and hurled a taser disc at his metal arm. Soft cheers went around the room as contact was made, decommissioning the bionic arm for a couple of seconds. 

Tony moved the cameras, shifting feeds from one to the next, tracking Nat as she scrambled for safety. She looked uncharacteristically terrified, shouting at the public to stay out of the way. She was about to reach one of the buildings when her left shoulder was shot, through the window of a parked vehicle.

“NOOOOO!” the occupants of the room screamed as the metal-armed menace positioned himself on the roof of yet another unfortunate car, gun aimed at her head.

Steve was on a separate screen in a moment, accelerating towards their friend. It was a sight that filled Tony with fresh anxiety and relief. He bounded up the car with the lid of a garbage can, which crumpled like an accordion with one swipe of metal. Then, the assassin sent Steve flying backward with a powerful kick to the torso.

Steve pulled himself up and began his rather impressive floor routine of somersaults and tumbles, performed to the rhythm of the assassin’s machine gun, then hand pistols, which were tossed onto the ground one by one, as they ran out of ammunition.

When the music stopped, Steve rolled over, engaging the assassin in a different sort of deadly dance, which Tony watched with a white-knuckled grip on the edge of his seat.

They traded punch for punch, kick for kick, before the masked man pulled out a knife, flicking it expertly with practised ease.

Stab. Stab. Slash. Slash. Knife toss. Stab.

He attacked with cold precision, making multiple attempts to plunge the knife into Steve’s throat. Steve was very skilled (or very lucky). He never got hurt, and even managed to disarm the assassin, forcing him to drop his knife.

Tony's heart stopped as he watched metal fingers wrap around Steve’s neck, squeezing mercilessly as Steve's face turned red from the strain. 

Thrown onto a car, Steve rolled off, and the assassin leapt after him, making a hole in the tarmac where Steve’s face had been a split second before. Steve hit the assassin’s jaw with a ripped-out car door on his landing. Then, he tossed the assassin over his shoulder, ripping off his mask. 

Finally, the assassin turned to face his targets without his mask for the first time. The room went silent, everyone eager to catch a glimpse of the mysterious attacker’s face.

Steve froze, blue eyes turning to ice. “Bucky?” he asked. His voice loud and clear, a contrast to his face, soft and unreadable.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Tony asked, in time with the confused and devastatingly-beautiful man on the screen.

Before anyone could process what was going on, Natasha took a shot at the assassin. He tossed something back and vanished into a cloud of smoke.

A convoy of armoured vehicles descended on the scene and Tony wondered what business they had being there, especially when the assassin had long gone.

Then, he saw the likes of Rumlow and Rollins ordering Steve and Natasha to the ground, slapping cuffs on their wrists. His mouth fell open. Coulson and Hill stared at each other in stunned silence.

SHIELD had just declared war on the Avengers.

Tony ran a search for the truck that the SHIELD agents had shoved Steve and Nat into. Hill and Coulson continued talking as he worked on tracking them down.

“Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's been credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“He’s a ghost story. Every lead we’ve followed has led to a dead end.”

“Fury tried to delay Project Insight. That is what has got Pierce so pissed.”

“Then, we can’t let those helicarriers go up in the air.”

Tony tried to disarm the helicarriers or ground them, but found himself blocked. “Disabling the encryption is an executive order, it takes clearance from two alpha-level members,” Tony informed the SHIELD agents.

“Or we let them launch. But we change the targeting blades, have them triangulate and destroy one another. Get rid of the threat permanently.”

“We'll need a team,” Tony pointed out, cognizant of the insurmountable obstacles and overwhelming odds stacked up against them.

“I’ll find us one,” Coulson promised before leaving with Hill to make other arrangements.

Finally, alone, Tony accessed the flash drive Fury had given him, which contained SHIELD’s top-secret files that Nat had downloaded while on the Lemurian Star. 

The drive was protected by some sort of AI, which kept rewriting itself to counter his commands. But he was slightly smarter than the person who developed it.

The first thing he did was to find information on Project Insight. It included an algorithm for identifying targets - assessing people’s bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls, even their damned SAT scores, to evaluate their past and predict their future. 

Then the Insight helicarriers would scratch those people, anyone deemed a threat to world safety, off the list, a few million at a time. It was baffling. Didn’t the punishment come after the crime?

He read the long list of names. It didn’t take long to find his, along with those of the Avengers. They were right at the top. Scrolling down, he found a lot more, some he recognised and others he did not.

• Steven Rogers (Avengers, SSI)

• Natasha Romanoff (Avengers, Ex KGB, SHIELD)

• Clint Barton (Avengers, SHIELD)

• Thor Odinson (Avengers, Asgardian Royal Family)

• Bruce Banner (Avengers, Culver University)

• Tony Stark (Stark Industries)

• Virginia Potts (Stark Industries)

• James Rhodes (Ex Air force)

• Peggy Carter (Ex SHIELD)

• Hank Pym (Ex SHIELD, Pym Technologies)

• Hope Van Dyne (Pym Technologies)

• Nicholas Fury (SHIELD)

• Maria Hill (SHIELD)

• Stephen Strange (Metropolitan General Hospital)

• Sam Wilson (Veterans Affairs, Ex Air Force)

• Scott Lang (Vistacorp)

• Sharon Carter (SHIELD)

• T’Challa (Wakandan Royal Family)

• Shuri (Wakandan Royal Family)

• Loki Laufeyson (Asgardian Royal Family)

He scrolled through close to a hundred names and their affiliations, reading the accompanying notes before making the connections. Unlike what they’d been led to believe, those on the list weren’t a threat to world security. They were a threat to HYDRA. And the organisation had been growing within SHIELD this whole time. 

He opened a folder named Scientific Strategic Reserve. In it, he found a surveillance video, labelled December 16, 1991.

He knew that date. He knew that car. He knew that road.

What was this?

The press had made it out to look like an episode of drink driving. But Tony knew his father. He hadn’t had a drop, not since the time he nearly drove their family off a cliff. He hadn’t had a drink in years.

The car crashed into a tree, followed closely by a man on a motorcycle. Tony saw his father crawling painfully out of the mangled wreck, blood running down his face as he pleaded, “Help my wife, please.”

The motorcyclist hoisted him up by the hair, forcing Howard to look at him. “Sergeant Barnes,” he croaked, in recognition.

It took two strikes of the metal arm to crush his father’s skull as was reported in the autopsy. Then, his lifeless body was dragged to the driver’s seat, positioned to appear slumped over the steering wheel.

It was particularly hard to watch his mother's final moments. He couldn't breathe as he watched her terrifying struggle with the flesh hand around her neck, squeezing. He’d had his doubts then, seeing the purple marks on her powdered neck.

There was no doubt about it now.

Finally, the killer walked towards the surveillance camera and took aim, giving Tony an unobstructed, close-up view of his visage.

It was him.

The man on the bridge. The metal-armed assassin. The New Fist of HYDRA. The Asset. The Winter Soldier. The Ghost. Bucky. Sergeant Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. Only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country. Steve’s presumably dead best friend.

The killer of his parents.

He didn’t have time to process the thoughts ravaging his mind because Coulson was back. “We have a location for Cap and Widow. The coordinates correspond to 29 Brickell Boulevard. It’s an 80-storey building in downtown Miami.”

No, it couldn’t be.

“What’s the name on the lease, Phil?”

“It’s been leased out to Aldrich Killian.”

Of course, it was.

“We think he’s working for the Mandarin.”

***

“Rhodey,” Tony greeted, when the door opened to reveal his surprised best friend.  

“Hey Tones, where you been, man?” he said, pulling Tony inside.

“Listen,” he said, somewhat shortly. “I’m running out of time. Do you have my suit?”

“No?” Rhodey said, confused. “Why would I? We’re not even the same size?”

“They didn’t give you my suit?”

“The Tom Ford?”

“No, the Iron Man.”

“No? Wait, what?” Rhodey asked, looking at him differently. “Are you - Are you Iron Man?”

Tony let out a sigh. Briefly, he told Rhodey about Gulmira, Stuttgart, New York, glossing over the details in the interest of time. He told him about his fight with Steve, apologised for going silent and explained his plan to rescue Steve and Nat, throwing out an invitation for his friend to come along. He was desperate for all the help he could get.

“Wait, wait. Hold up. Am I hearing you right?” Rhodey interrupted while Tony was in the middle of breaking it down. “You want me to help you infiltrate a highly-secure building, heavily-guarded by Extremis soldiers, maybe go face-to-face with the Mandarin, and rescue Captain America?”

“No, of course not,” he answered, reaching the limits of his patience. “I want to help you infiltrate a highly-secure building, heavily-guarded by Extremis soldiers, maybe go face-to-face with the Mandarin, and rescue Captain America. Breaking and entering. Search and rescue. That’s your strong suit.”

“I don’t know, Tony,” Rhodey said, with a heavy sigh. “I just got out of the military.”

“Dude. Captain America needs our help. Now’s the best time to get back in. Are you not ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell, no,” Rhodey declared. “Honestly, right now, I just want to kick his ass.”

Then he let out a deep exhale, changing his mind when he saw the crestfallen look on Tony’s face.

“But, the little guy who built an arc reactor, and a kickass suit, in a cave, with a box of scraps,” he began, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “I’m following him.”

It was a sweet sentiment, spoken from one best friend to another, but it really ended up being the other way around, with Tony trailing behind while they made their way past the heavily-armed soldiers in the AIM compound.

“ls your gun up?” Rhodey hissed, after they'd successfully avoided detection by yet another set of guards.

“Yep. What do I do?” he whispered back.

“Stay on my six, cover high and don't shoot me in the back. See if you can give us the cover of darkness.”

Following his directions, Tony aimed his handgun at the lamp closest to them and fired. “You see that? Nailed it,” he boasted.

“Yeah, you really killed the glass,” was Rhodey’s unimpressed reply as the lights stayed on.

“Well, you can’t shoot the bulb at this distance,” Tony huffed defensively.

Rhodey rolled his eyes, taking out the light like the marksman (and showoff) that he was.

“Don’t gloat. We have incoming. Save my spot. Ready?” Tony said, looking over the waste disposal bins they were hiding behind.

“What'd you see?”

“Too fast. Nothing. Again,” he said, this time making a slower sweep of their surroundings. “Two techs, unarmed, walking in our direction. They’re taking out the trash."

They listened carefully as the footsteps got closer. Then, Rhodey knocked one of them out with a well-positioned blow to the head. Tony pointed his firearm at the other one, experimenting with different angles to maximise the intimidating effect he was failing to create.

“Mr Stark. Huge fan,” the technician professed. “But, threatening people with firearms. That’s not really your style.”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t,” Tony agreed, lowering the gun. “It’s his,” he said, tilting his head in Rhodey’s direction.

Rhodey instantly had his gun trained on the technician. “I swear to God, Tones. I’m going to blow this guy’s brains out,” he warned, voice rising in a theatrical show of bad-cop frustration. 

“All right. Whatever,” he sighed, conceding. “Honestly, I hate working here. They are so weird. Cap’s on the top floor and the Black Widow’s in the basement.”  

“Thank you for your co-operation,” Rhodey said, politely, and knocked him out with the butt of his pistol. “We need to split up,” he said, looking troubled at the thought of leaving Tony to his own devices.

“Hey, remember when Luke and Han went into the Death Star to rescue the princess?” Tony asked, looking down at the unconscious techs in front of them.

“I do,” Rhodey answered, grinning back at him.

Moments later, they were dressed in the technicians’ outfits (AIM T-shirts and lab coats), which were frankly quite comfortable. Tony slipped his ginormous backpack inside the trolley. Then, they breezed through the building in their disguises, finally saying their goodbyes at the lift lobby.

Tony kept his fingers crossed and muttered a soft prayer for smooth traffic. His backstory for Dr Howard Potts wasn't ready and he wasn't in the mood for awkward elevator talk. He’d just about made it to the top when the elevator slowed down and stopped. He shuffled inside, avoiding eye contact with the new arrival.

A pair of hot, burning arms enveloped him and he gasped, struggling to break free. He didn’t even need to turn his head to know who'd joined him.

“Looking good, Tony,” Killian said, sweeping his disgusting hands over his clothed body. “It’s not very useful as a disguise though. I sniffed you out the moment you entered my building. And now, like the first mouse, you’ve walked right into my trap.” Killian kicked the trolley out of the elevator, dragging Tony behind him.

“What do you want?” Tony demanded, twisting out of Killian’s painful grasp with a quick jab to his ribs.

“What everyone does. A piece of you. The suit. Very impressive. I knew it was you, despite your ridiculous stories about a bodyguard.”

“Well. Too bad for you then. I don’t have it.”

“I know,” Killian said, rifling through the trolley to find his backpack. “Big bad alpha does. He took your suit, and here you are, like a good little boy, bringing him this?” he said, pulling the shield out. “I told you, Tony. I would have given you the world.”

“You’re a maniac.”

"I’m a visionary. But I'm nice. I’ll show you what you came for. Real generous of our friends at SHIELD to let us keep him, even if it’s only for a few days,” he said as he rolled three metallic balls on the ground between them.

They lighted up, like an inferior version of his holotable, to project a video of Steve bound to an upright chair. His eyes and skin were glowing hot, burning with Extremis. He looked to be in agony, eyes squeezed shut as tears leaked out and trickled down his pained face. 

“Now, this is live. I'm not sure if you can tell, but at this moment the body is trying to decide whether to accept Extremis or just give up. And if it gives up, I have to say, the detonation is quite spectacular. But until that point, it's just a lot of pain.”

Tony had to look away, overwhelmed by the images of Steve gritting his teeth, struggling in his bonds.   

“The serum in his blood is a stabiliser. It’s our last step in perfecting the virus. Thanks to our last encounter, I managed to collect a sample to run diagnostics. It was well worth the beating I got.”

His eyes went back to the image. Steve was writhing now, struggling to break free from his bonds.

“Now, genius like you should already have figured this out. You both are goners, with Project Insight launching in a few days. Nothing I could say to change Pierce’s mind about the captain. Or you. I could keep him here, pained and miserable, as I harvest what I can. Or, I could let him go right now, so you can spend your last few days together, saying your tearful goodbyes.”

“What's it going to cost?”

“A few minutes of your time. Hammer’s been working on an Iron Legion. Look what you’ve inspired,” he said, flicking his wrist to bring up images of an army of drones.

“But these drones he’s made,” he paused, sighing. “They’re only good for a salute. We just need you to give our friend a few pointers, so he can build the Mandarin an army. I know. Tough choice. You take a minute,” Killian said, smug smile on his face.

“Or, you can go to hell,” Tony said as he sliced his hand off with the blade Rhodey had slipped into the lab coat. He stabbed him a couple more times for good measure. “You take a minute,” he huffed, before grabbing the shield and his backpack.

He bounded up the stairs, two at a time, till he reached the top floor. Hacking their codes, he found his way into a highly-secure-looking room and found Steve strapped down, with some serious-looking cuffs.

Steve was in between phases, or the virus was taking a bit of a break. Either way, the alpha looked relatively free of pain, just sleeping. Tony was tempted to watch him sleep, but he had a plan and time was not on their side.

“Come on, buddy. Wake up,” he said, softly shaking the sleeping man.

Steve’s eyelids flew open at the sound of his voice.

“That’s my man,” Tony breathed, incredibly relieved.

Steve squinted, blinked and shook his head, as if unable to believe what he was seeing. “Tony?” he asked.

“Yeah, it's me. Do you know the way to the Cutler Fossil Site? Because I’m trying to pick one up.”

“That's hilarious,” he deadpanned. “I’m 75, not dead.”

“You’ve looked better,” he said, thankful that Steve was at least responding to his jabs.

“I don’t understand. Why are you here?” he asked.  

“Turns out resentment is corrosive. And I hate it. And you know what else is toxic? Extremis. So, here is the antidote, courtesy of Bruce,” he said, brandishing the syringe in his hand, before swiping his arms with some alcohol swabs. 

“Hold still. I’m not that kind of doctor. Actually, I’m not any kind of doctor at all,” he reminded him before pushing the plunger down.

Then, he freed Steve from his bonds and helped him to an empty spot on the ground.

“How long before it takes effect?” Steve asked, rubbing his forearms at the places where they’d chafed.

“About a minute, thereabouts. It'll take longer for you to regain your strength. But you also are a super-soldier, so I’d give it ten minutes, tops.”  

“Ten minutes,” Steve said, looking increasingly uneasy by the second. “Oh God. What are we going to do for ten minutes?”

“I don’t know. Talk? Anything in particular you want to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, after stealing a glance.

And there it was, the apology, out in the open. It looked promising. No accompanying ifs or buts. But Tony could tell that there was more.

“I freaked out,” Steve explained. “I wanted to protect the one thing I can’t live without. That’s you.”

“Yeah. I get that,” Tony said. He understood that Steve was coming from a good place, even if he went about it the wrong way. 

"I thought I was protecting you. But I can see now - that I was just protecting myself. I wasn’t strong enough - to come to terms with what you've been through. And I let you down. I'm sorry.”

Steve looked like he had more to say, so Tony stayed silent, allowing him to continue. 

“I don't even know what I was thinking. You have never needed my protection. Look at you,” he said, waving in Tony's general direction. “Storming through the tower like a knight in shining - lab coat?” he added, after noticing his attire. 

“Actually, I’m your squire,” Tony responded, laying the shield over his arm.

“You –,” Steve said, inhaling sharply at the sight of his shield. “You brought me this.”

“Yeah,” Tony told him, softly. “Why’d you leave it behind?”

Steve looked away again, refusing to meet his eyes. “It felt wrong. It didn’t belong to me,” he explained, as he tried to return the weapon.

“Why?” Tony pressed, firmly placing the shield back over his arm. “I made it for you.”

“I don’t deserve it,” he insisted, even though he allowed Tony to place it over his lap.

Tony looked at him in concern. "And you were planning to get yourself killed?"

"It wasn't going to matter anyway. If you weren't -," he said, voice breaking.

"Steve-"

“When I woke up in this era, I had no one, nothing. You – you gave me a purpose, somewhere to belong. A home. You made me - a shield. And I - I took the one thing you made for yourself. The only thing you care about,” he said, hiding his face in his hands.  

“Steve,” he cried, alarmed. “Do you have to be so dramatic? The suit is NOT the only thing I care about.”

But Steve was too far gone to hear what he was saying. “I made you give it to me. I'm sorry. I knew it was wrong. It felt wrong. It killed me. When you left,” he managed to choke out between tiny sobs.

Steve didn’t cry, cry. He did a manly shaking thing with silent tears that Tony would one day learn to do. But he was distressed, and Tony was horrified. 

There was a lot they needed to work out, but at that moment, after having seen Steve close to dying at the hands of the Winter Soldier and Extremis, Tony just wanted him to stop hurting and pull himself together. 

"Hey," he said, taking Steve's hands into his and forcing the sobbing alpha to look at him. "Hey, Steve, look here. It's going to be okay. I'm going to forgive you, all right?"

Steve looked up in surprise and Tony couldn't help but notice how wet his face was. "You shouldn't," he argued. "I'm the worst kind of person, Tony. I'm a bully. You should stay away from me, run as far as you can."

Sighing, Tony brushed away the tears from Steve's eyes with the pads of his thumbs. "Steve, you are not a bully. Yes, you were mean and you made me feel small and helpless and betrayed. And it wasn't a good feeling. It sucked. And it made me all kinds of furious.”

Steve nodded his head slowly, acknowledging what he did. His face was coloured in shame.  

“But here's the thing. You did the wrong thing. Everyone does, sometimes. I don't judge people on their worst mistakes. Neither should you. And, you know, being away from you made me realise something. In this crazy business we're in, there's no one else I want to fight with. I never had a choice. But if I did, I would choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a thousand different worlds, I'd find you and I'd choose you. Every single time."  

Instead of keeping the tears at bay as Tony had hoped, the words brought on a fresh wave of ones. There was nothing Tony could do except wait for Steve to cry them out, hold his rocking body in an attempt to calm him down. It took a few minutes, but finally, they stopped. 

"I chose you, Tony," he said, sniffling. "And I'll do it again. Every time."

“Right. So, here's what's going to happen. When all this is over, and our lives aren't in imminent danger, we're going to sit down calmly and work things out. But right now, you need to get a grip on yourself. Because we need to fight our way out of here. So we can end the fight and go home."

"Home?" Steve asked, breathlessly, as if unable to believe his ears.

"Yes, our home," Tony assured him with a quick squeeze to his hand.

Are we going to be okay?” Steve asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “You’re in a relationship with me. “Nothing is ever going to be okay. But if we work on it, I think it could even be good."

"I’ll work on it. All the time," Steve promised. "You make me want to be a better person, the best version of myself. Until I come close to being worthy. I’m sorr -,”

Tony put his hand on Steve's shoulder, interrupting the rambling. “Oh my God. Steve. Stop. Just stop talking. This grovelling thing is really quite unattractive on you. If you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m keeping it,” he threatened, smirking as his husband held the shield protectively, clutching it closer to his chest.

“Thank you,” he said instead. "I thought - I thought you were going to end this. I thought it was going to be my last time talking to you."

“Yeah. But I’m warning you. You pull something like that on me ever again, I’ll be out of your life in a heartbeat. You understand?” 

Steve gave him a solemn look of understanding. He knew what was at stake. Yet, Tony could feel the tension abating as they relaxed against the wall, bodies pressed close to each other's as they waited for Steve to recover.

Then Rhodey’s voice came in his ear, speaking so loudly that Steve could hear him. “Tony, come in. Our cover has been blown. Like literally. Into a ball of flames. You and Cap need to get out of there ASAP.”   

Tony groaned, bracing himself for the long battle ahead. “I gotta say though. I would kill for some armour right now.”

Steve didn’t seem to hear him, eyes fixed on the ring on his finger. “You’re wearing it,” he observed quietly.

“I am. It – It’s for me, right?”

“It’s yours. It’s always been yours. Do you like it?” he asked in a hopeful voice.

“I do,” Tony assured him. “There’s something about it though. Something I can’t quite seem to put my finger on.”

“Maybe you should,” Steve said, offering him a meaningful smile.

“Maybe I should what?”

“Here, let me show you.” Steve said, taking his right hand and placing his index finger on the largest stone in the middle of the ring.  

It lighted up. The panel above it lighted up soon after, then the next, one by one. Right before the last panel could light up and complete the cursor-like image, Steve broke the nearest window to them with his shield.

“What in the world, Steve? Why’d you have to go and do that for?” he screamed, as Steve caught the shield before it hit his head.

“Tony, baby, sweetheart. I adore you. You know how much I do. But right now – Right now, I need the other guy.”

Tony watched, amazed, as the pieces of his armour came flying through the broken window toward him. The left repulsor glove was the first to attach itself to his ring, before the left arm plates. Then the chest plate came on, and the right arm plate too. The right repulsor glove was next, followed by the thigh guards and jet boots. The helmet linked itself up from behind. Tony never saw it coming. Finally, the face plate came on, attaching itself smoothly to the helmet in the flipped-up position.

He flexed his fingers, marvelling at the fluid motions of the gold-titanium covering his hands. “You - you finished the code,” shocked and impressed at the incredible feat of engineering that Steve had pulled off. All on his own.

“I did,” Steve said. “It’s coded to your print. Bracelets were a little big. Thought this was more discreet. And you never quite took it off. Not unless you were already in the workshop,” he added, looking at the ring, which was partially visible from outside the suit.

“Steve,” Tony interrupted. “I don’t understand. Now, you want me to be Iron Man?”

“No,” he said. “I want you to be whomever you want. For as long as it makes you happy.”

“Just like that?” he asked.

“Not in a position to ask for anything,” Steve said. “But I’ll tell you my priorities. Being honest? I hope, yes. Building trust? We have to, at all costs. And maybe not dying would be nice.”

“I don’t know, Steve. I’m not ready,” he said, the panic rising within him.

“Tony? Cap? We need backup. Ground floor,” Rhodey’s voice came into the earpiece again. “Now.”

“Look, Tony,” Steve said, peering closely at his face. “Are you up for this? Are you? I need to know, because everyone is blowing up. I have to go. Your friend Rhodes. Nat. They need help. You can do this. You know you can. But if you don't want to, you’re in the suit. You’re safe. You can fly out the window. Back to the tower or anywhere you like. I’ve got a tracker on it. I’ll find you. Once this is all over.”

Tony wasn't sure how to respond, so he stared blankly ahead.

Steve placed his hand on his shoulder as he pushed his next point. “But if you walk out the door, you fight and you fight to kill. And if that’s the choice you make, then, Tony, you are an Avenger.”

“Good talk,” Steve said, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and closing the face plate.

Then, he hurried into the elevator and disappeared out of sight.

Tony would have stayed on the spot for a lot longer if not for a familiar voice in his ear. “Welcome back, sir.”

Tony sucked in a quick breath and exhaled. “J, it is so good to be home.”

“I’d love to help you put your feet up. But later. Right now, we’re expecting visitors.”

Tony hurried to the door, assessing the four soldiers making their way towards him.

Extremis made them hot, so he couldn’t let them touch him. And their regenerative abilities made them practically impossible to kill. Medically though, they were sick. And he had the cure, hundreds of injectors in his backpack. He spilled the contents of his backpack all over the medical trolley.

“Do me a favour, J. Replace the missiles in my shoulder-mounted guns with the antidotes. Are the targeting systems functional?”

“Yes, sir. If anything, they’ve been improved by Captain Rogers to be heat-sensitive to enhanced individuals.”

Stupid fucking genius.  

“Then target Extremis heat signatures with extreme prejudice. Do it. Now!” he ordered, as twelve injectors flew out, easily finding their targets. He used his jet boots and repulsors to his advantage, moving out of reach each time they came too close. The moment the soldiers stopped glowing, he took them out with a quick one-two of his repulsor blasts.

He repeated the process, over and over, until they stopped coming. And all was quiet.

He heard a commotion on the roof. He flew out the broken window, and found Steve and Killian fighting it out.

Killian turned to face him, looking at him with appraising eyes. “Here we are. Again. On top of the roof. And this time, you’ve brought me the suit.”

“It’s not for you,” Steve said, launching himself at Killian.

Killian calmly placed his hand on Steve’s throat, and slammed him on the ground. He sat astride Steve’s torso, keeping his hand on Steve’s throat, which glowed with heat. “Take off the suit,” Killian said. “Take it off if you want to hear his voice again.”

The armour began falling from Tony’s body, with two taps of the ring, crumbling into a heap on the rooftop, beside a familiar circular object. Tony picked it up quietly, flinging it away in the opposite direction, while Killian, oblivious to his surroundings, began complaining about the Extremis antidote. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony. What were you thinking? Giving him the cure. Extremis needs no cure. Extremis is the cure. And I was sooooo close to having him perfect. I –”

“Talk too much,” Steve said, bringing his shield down on Killian’s head after catching it on its return.

Tony suited up with a quick tap, hurrying to Steve’s side. They switched around, alternating attack and defence as they teamed up on Killian. But regardless of what they did, Killian just wouldn’t die. Or quit.

The suit was fully charged and Steve could do it all day. But Killian was getting more and more fiery by the second, putting themselves and the occupants of the building in grave danger.

They had to change their plan of attack, so Tony tossed the solution at Steve. Steve read his mind, the chemistry between them negating the need for a bond.

With a grunt of effort, Steve stabbed at Killian, nodding imperceptibly to confirm that he'd found his target. However, the blow appeared to have no effect and the deranged man retaliated with a swift stab of his own to Steve’s middle.  

Then, Killian, drunk on his power, drew up and glowed, breathing fire into the sky like a dragon. Tony forced himself to wait, shooting at Killian in a desperate bid to keep him away from Steve and to buy themselves time.

… 28, 29, 30, …

 Thankfully, Killian loved to talk. A lot.

“You know, Tony? When I looked out over the city that night that I waited for you on the rooftop, nobody knew I was there. Nobody could see me. No one was even looking. I had a thought that would guide me for years to come. Anonymity, Tony. Thanks to you, it’s been my mantra. You rule from behind the scenes. Because once you give the people a face, you hand them a target. And I see that you’ve learnt how wonderful it is, to hide, to wait, until it’s the right time.”

… 58, 59, 60 …

It was the right time. Killian wasn’t glowing anymore. The antidote that Steve had stabbed him with had run its course.

It was time for Tony to run his.

He jogged toward the crazed man, accelerating in his approach. Killian matched his speed and swung his fist back as if to strike, but the omega slipped deftly between his legs. Killian pulled himself back, just before sliding off the edge of the roof. He turned back around to face Tony, who had flicked his face plate up.

“You know, Killian?” Tony said, walking towards the alpha. “After you've said so much, I still don’t know. Who, really, is the Mandarin?”

“No more false faces, Tony. You want the Mandarin? You’re looking right at him. It was always me. Right from the start. I am the Mandarin!” Killian roared as he towered over Tony in an attempt to scare him back.

But Tony stood his ground, refusing to cower, or be trapped in a corner ever again. 

“AND. I. AM. IRON. MAN,” he answered, emphasising the words with repulsor blasts to Killian’s heart.

Killian stumbled backwards, shocked by the impact of the successive shots, still unaware of what had happened to his body. “You will never -,” he began, faltering, before taking the one-step shortcut to the lobby.

“We will never what? You didn’t finish!” Steve screamed after the falling body.

Then, he turned to Tony, looking at him in a mixture of pride and awe.

Rhodey’s voice was on the comms again, confirming that he and Nat had neutralised the threats, curing some and killing others, which they reacted to with little whoops of victory.

They laughed. And laughed. Then laughed some more. They were having a moment. For a few good minutes, they enjoyed the view of Miami from the rooftop, celebrating their victory and what they’d almost lost and found.

The crisis wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Project Insight was launching in three days. The Winter Soldier was out there. Hammer’s drones could present a threat. But they were going to beat them. Together. They wouldn’t lose. But in the unlikely event that they did, they’d do it together too.

Steve spoke first, his voice cutting through the silence of the night. “God, Tony. All that red and gold. You have no idea what it’s doing to me. I can see why you don’t want to give up the suit. Quite frankly, I don’t want you to ever take it off either. What are we going to fight about now?”

“Well, it’s me. You’ll think of something,” Tony said.

Steve pulled him in, suit and all, for the embrace. “I know who you are.”

“Yes,” he agreed, meaning every muffled word he said into that broad, warm chest.

“You know who I am.”

Chapter Text

Tony was having a dream.

He was turning ten and going through quite the phase (a waxing interest in astronomy), So, that year, his parents had honoured his birthday wish to visit the space museum.

By midday, after hours of aimless wandering, Tony had charted a course for them, making sure to explore his favourite exhibits multiple times before making the return trip home.

When the birthday candles had been blown out and they’d had their cake, they’d raced upstairs for the rooftop, where his birthday gift was set up.

It was a telescope.

A note (in his mother’s cursive lettering) was tied to the gift.

Tony,

Happy birthday, our little star! Dear child, you were always meant to shine. When you gaze at the stars and their constellations, I hope you’ll think about your own journey. What stories will you tell as you connect the bright sparks in your life? So, reach bravely for the stars, and we will be right there, loving you to the moon and back!

Dad and Mom

It was a beautiful summer evening with clear skies, so making out the constellations had been somewhat of a breeze.

“That’s Polaris,” his dad had said. “It appears in the same place each night to guide travellers on their journeys. If you’re lost and all alone, finding the right star will lead you home.”

Tony was exultant at finding it, making sure to shout his discovery from the rooftop. Gazing through the telescope, he could barely discern two distinct bodies.

“Daddy, there are two of 'em!” he cried.

“Ah. You’ve found the companion. There is a third one too, you know? But it’s very hard to find."

He spent the rest of the evening trying to do just that, but hours of stargazing made his eyes bleary with fatigue.

So finally, the birthday boy was tucked snugly into his sleeping bag, with his parents lying on either side, and that was how the three of them drifted off under the evening sky.

Alas, the moon waned and the stars dimmed. The images began to slip away until all that was left behind was the emptiness of the bedroom ceiling.

Instead of his parents, Steve was beside him, tossing and turning in his sleep. Tony glanced at him, observing the perspiration dotting his forehead. His face was taut with tension, eyes squeezed tightly as they remained shut, keeping their owner trapped in a different sort of dream.

Nightmares had been constant companions, frequent and unwelcome visitors to their marital bed. A recurring one for Steve was an old memory. Yet, for Steve, the wound was still raw, having never been given the time to heal.

Tony knew the official story, about the Howling Commando and his courage, resilience and loyalty. A true friend, he stood by Steve, through thick and thin, and they were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.

Even when Steve had nothing, he had Bucky.

Steve had never referred to him by that name, so Tony was surprised the first time he’d heard it, in the recordings of that highway fight.

He had always been James. Tony had even once remarked on the coincidence that their best friends shared the same given name. What was more incredible that neither of them went by it.

Tony wondered. If it had been the other way around, and Rhodey had killed Steve’s parents, albeit under brainwashing, would he tell Steve? Or keep his mouth shut to protect the precious peace that hung precariously on the balance?

Rhodey was his best friend and he could never give him up, but Tony had also learnt the value of honesty, respect and trust. Without these pillars, empires built from the hardest bricks would still crumble from within.

Finally, Steve opened his eyes, blue lights framed by starbursts, and stared blankly at the ceiling. Slowly, they blinked, before stopping to focus the brilliance of a thousand stars on him.

Tony moved closer to press his body against Steve’s. “You okay?” he asked.

Steve didn’t seem to hear the question. “That man on the bridge – I knew him,” he quietly told him instead.

“Was it really your friend?”

“It was. He looked right at me.”

“How’s that even possible? It was like fifty years ago.”

“Zola. The whole unit was captured in 1943. They experimented. Whatever they did helped him survive the fall. They must have found him and -,” Steve sighed, unable to continue, stricken with guilt as he imagined the horrors that his friend had lived through, while the world spun on and thought him dead.

“Tell me about Bucky,” he asked.

The name, spoken aloud, was the password to the safe in Steve’s heart and the stories, like treasured gems, were soon tumbling out.

“You’d have liked him,” Steve said, when he finished. “He was a great friend, a good person. The best kind.”

Bucky, to Steve, was the sun, warm, giving and full of life. He, in contrast, was the much-smaller moon, a mere reflection of the sun’s light yet invisible in its presence.

There wasn’t anything wrong with being a moon. The moon never attacked, keeping only to its course. Yet, it held an invisible and profound sway over others. No other body could pull an ocean from shore to shore.

Still, Steve was no moon. He’d always been too bright, too hot for anyone to hold. And the others had kept their distance. Everyone but Bucky.

Gravitating towards each other, they found an equilibrium in their orbits. Like the figures of ‘8’ Steve was drawing on his back to lull him back to sleep.

But Tony couldn’t sleep, not when he had something to say. He had to say it, even if it would cause an implosion that would lead to an infinite gravitational warp- a blackhole.

“Steve. The accident. My parents. He was behind it.”

“Who?” Steve asked, fingers frozen in the dip of his back.

Tony paused, then opened his mouth again, saying the words as carefully as he could. “Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.” He paused to swallow the huge lump in his throat. “He killed my mom.”

There it was. The hard truth, the comet, rocketing towards the sun.

“It wasn’t him,” Steve instinctively said as he braced himself.

Impact was made and tears streamed from blue eyes in a trail of vaporised ice and ash. “I’m sorry, Tony. It’s my fault. I let him fall from the train,” he said, over and over, as Tony held him through the tremors.

“None of that is your fault, Steve,” he said, wishing that Steve would believe that, even if he didn’t believe anything else.

Tony wiped the tears away with his thumbs, kissing the streaks that ran down his husband’s face. He rubbed his back, whispering softly to calm him down as one phrase stuck in his head. 

It wasn’t him.

Steve was right. He had never known Bucky, but he knew the Winter Soldier.

It was him.

***

“I live one floor away from you and it takes the world ending for you to visit?” Natasha complained, when she opened her door.

“A cold war would do it too,” Tony said. He surveyed her red-rimmed eyes and the stiff smile on her face, indicating that she, like Steve, had been a victim.

She did a good job of hiding her sorrow. Someone who didn’t know her might even say she glowed. But Tony knew how to recognise the cracks. And stars shone brightest just before they collapsed.

He took her hand, dragging her towards the communal kitchen, hoping a good talk was all it would take for her to discard the burned-up boosters holding her back.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, referring to his unusual invitation to have breakfast because they usually did not eat that sort of thing, at least not together.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” he said.

“I’m not alone.”

Tony wondered about that. Nat never spoke of her family. Did she have anyone to turn to in her darkest hour?

“Nobody special though?” he probed.

She smiled. “Believe it or not, it’s kind of hard to find someone with shared life experiences.”

“You know, if you ask Kirsten out from Statistics, she’d say yes,” Tony remarked.

“That’s why I don’t ask.”

She was about say something else, but changed her mind. Then, she made a sharp turn, changing her course, at the sight of someone at the door.

Steve.

She ignored him as he entered, alienating herself at the other end of the room, so she could finish her peanut butter sandwiches without fielding intrusive questions about her love life.

Tony pushed a plate towards Steve. “Hi,” he said. “How are we feeling?”

Steve shrugged, downcast. “I’m good. Thankful that the only person who doesn’t hate me right now is you.”

Tony kissed him lightly on his cheek, trying to cheer him up. “Nat will come around,” he said. “There is nothing like the world ending to bring the team together.”

Bruce was the first to shuffle in, looking sheepish and washed out.

“You know, for a man who wants to avoid stress, you picked a hell of a place,” Tony commented, referring to Bruce’s decision to hide in one of the busiest cities in India, a place where he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“I’m not trying to avoid stress,” Bruce explained.

“Good. Because we could really use a Hulk.”

A loud thump overhead announced Thor’s arrival.

“Bring me HYDRA!”  he boomed as he entered the room, so Tony thrust a large mug of coffee into his hands to calm him down fire him up some more.

He downed the beverage and said, “I like this one.” That pushed Tony to refill his cup promptly before the Asgardian could smash it and ask for another.

“Oh my God! What are you doing?” Tony exclaimed, when he caught Clint putting coffee grounds in the disposal.

“Disappointing my kids,” he sighed, oblivious to the mess he was making. “I’m supposed to go water-skiing.”

“Well, we need you," Tony said apologetically. "You go on vacation for five days and everything goes to shit."

It made Clint smile and ruffle his hair before leading him to cluster around Coulson and Hill like the rest of the team to go over the mission brief.

“He’s going to be there, you know?” Hill reminded them, looking specifically at Steve, then Natasha.

No names were mentioned but everyone knew of whom she spoke.

Rogue stars form during intergalactic collisions. As they drift through dark matter, they face the risk of being drawn into the void.

But, what did one do with a rogue? Pull it back or let it go? Who would risk a galaxy for a star?

“Look, whoever he used to be, the guy he is now. I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the kind you stop,” Bruce pointed out.

Steve sighed. “I’m not sure if I can do that.”

“Then, I will,” Natasha said, raising her voice in a challenge. “What? You don’t trust me?” she asked when she saw Steve shaking his head, obviously still displeased about her side-mission on the Lemurian Star.

What are you not telling me?” he demanded to know.

But she wasn't going to give in without a fight. “I’m allowed to have my secrets. I’m not the one who signed that report.”

Speeding giants on a collision course, they glared at each other for more than a moment.

“Sorry, I’m lost,” Bruce cut in. “What did Cap do?”

“Said we didn’t want Tony on the team,” Clint explained. “Which, by the way, isn’t true,” he added, for Tony’s benefit. “And he took his suit,” he finished, adding to the charges.

Thor turned red and Bruce turned green, so Tony intervened, trying to contain the situation before it spun out of control. “Guys, it’s fine. We’re okay. Can we just focus on the mission right now?”

“Winter is mine,” Natasha insisted, direct and to the point.

Clint held her arm, looking at her in concern. “Nat, I know how much he means to you. Stay out of this. You’ll only make it worse.”

“If he’s this far gone, I should be the one to bring him in. I’m the one least likely to die trying,” Steve argued, staying on his course.

Tony, though, was still determined to look on the bright side. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight,” he said, reminding them that there always was a way out.

“It always ends in a fight,” they snapped, simultaneously, responding to Tony without taking their eyes off each other.

“Sorry, did you just agree with me?” Steve asked, taking in a deep breath.

Nat shook her head. “Oh. I take it back.”

“Guys, stop,” Bruce intervened, before being swiftly attacked.

“You, where were you when all this happened?”

“Earth’s mightiest heroes. Scattered like stardust.”

“More like space junk, my friends.”

“We’re not friends. All we ever do is fight.”

“No, we’re not,” Tony agreed, shouting over the cacophony of outraged voices. “We’re a family,” he finished and the room went silent as they acknowledged the truth behind his words.

Nat the first to react, kissing his forehead before placing her arms around his shoulders. Then, Steve wrapped his arms around hers. Tony couldn’t tell who was next but they were soon part of a massive group hug.

The Avengers - Not the friends he was looking for, but the family he’d found.  And he’d be damned to let them take sides in a war that could tear them apart.

Then, they assembled, a bunch of misfits, in their suits, circling around Steve like the planets. “You know your teams. You know your missions. No mistakes, no do-overs. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re going to win. Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He is pretty good at that,” Rhodey admitted, hurrying to join them just before they set off.

“Right?” Tony agreed. 

***

“What about that girl from accounting? Laura?” Tony asked, back on his mission to find Nat a date. They were in a limousine, heading towards the Triskelion in their disguises.

“Lillian. Lip piercing, right?” she asked, raising one plucked, grey brow. “I gotta say, she’s attractive. And the metal is a draw.”

It was Pierce who personally greeted them as they stepped out, giving them each a biometric pin. He explained that it would accord them unrestricted access to the Triskelion’s facilities, the main one being the observation room, from which they were to watch (and stop) the launch of the helicarriers.

When he had the floor, Pierce addressed the group, describing that very moment as the tipping point between order and chaos. They were going to give that delicate balance a little push, just a tiny push of a button in his hand, to give the world the freedom it deserved.

He was having a moment, one that was unexpectedly interrupted by Steve. Over the PA system, Steve gave a speech of his own, revealing the truth for what it was.

SHIELD had been taken over by HYDRA.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high. It always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. If I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not,” Steve said, ending his speech with a rousing call to arms.  

Tony wondered if he wrote that down first, or if it was off the top of his head. It was inspiring, powerful, and hopefully the extra thrust they needed to improve their odds.

The members of the World Security Council looked uneasily, at each other, then at Pierce. While Steve’s speech drew loyal agents to their cause, it also alerted the enemy of their plans.

But the countdown had started, and they were past the point of no return.

Pierce drew a handgun, so Tony pushed a threatened councilman out of the way while Natasha disarmed the secretary, amidst panicked gasps and cries and more gunshots. Still, working together, it didn’t take long before all the STRIKE operatives were down.

Following that little display, they peeled off their photostatic veils, tickets to the most exciting box seats in the century, revealing their real identities to those present.

While Natasha trained her firearm at the secretary’s head, Tony worked on disabling the security protocols. For a couple of minutes, he focused on his task to publish the contents of Fury’s thumb drive, information regarding SHIELD and HYDRA into the Internet.

Not once did he lose sight of his side-mission. “How about the nurse that lives across the hall?” Tony suggested. “She seems kind of nice.”

Nat, unfortunately, was not on board. “Upload the files, then find me a date.”

“I’m multitasking,” Tony explained.

“If you do this, none of your pasts are going to remain hidden,” Pierce told them, before focusing on Tony. “Mr. Stark, are you sure you’re ready for the world to see you as you really are?”

Tony studied the secretary. This was HYDRA’s commander. The man who had ordered the hit on his parents, the assassination of Fury. The same person who declined the Nobel Peace Prize, claiming that peace wasn’t an achievement, but a responsibility?

“Are you?” he asked, turning the question back to Pierce, because Tony, for once, wasn’t the one with something to hide.

He hit the button without waiting for an answer. Then, Nat urged Pierce toward the control room with a well-placed gun at the dip of his back.

“Disabling the encryption is an executive order. It takes two alpha-level members,” he reminded them with a smug smile.

“Don’t worry. Company’s coming,” she assured, raising more than a few eyebrows (Tony’s included).

He heard the thud before he saw Rhodey, looking suave in the suit he only completed the previous day. There was no time for a test run, but it obviously worked.

Rhodey wasn’t alone. And Nick Fury wasn’t dead.

The words escaped before he could stop them. “Fury, you son of a bitch,” he said as a surprised hand flew up to cover his trap.

Nick winked in response, asking him if he kissed his husband with that mouth while Tony continued to gape in disbelief as he looked at the scanner with his dead eye, granting himself full access to the system.

“Upload complete,” Tony informed the crew once confirmation was received. “And it’s trending.”

“Good work, Tony,” Steve said over the comms.

Then, Phil’s voice was in his earpiece. “Iron Man, War Machine, we’ve got incoming. Hangar. It looks like a Hammeroid attack.”

***

They’d done this a thousand times on the playground – Knights and Dragons; Heroes and Villains; Jedi and Sith. While they opposed each other in play, Tony knew that when it really mattered, they would always fight on the same side. If Bucky had been Steve’s companion, then Rhodey was his.

“Earth to Rhodes?” Tony asked, waving a hand in front of a blank face.

“Hey, I’m here,” Rhodey assured him.

“Yeah, good. Because you looked a little spaced out back there. Sure you don’t want to sit this one out?” Tony asked.

“138 combat missions. That’s how many I’ve flown. Every one of them could have been my last. But the fight needed to be fought. And this - this is the fight of our lives.”

“Okay, partner,” Tony said. “What’s the play?” he asked, deferring to his battle experience.

“Well, we want to take the high ground.  So, let’s put the biggest gun up here.”

“Got you,” Tony agreed, beginning to make his way to the position.

But Rhodey was holding him back. “I meant me,” he quietly said.

Tony scoffed. “You have a big gun. You are not -. Fine,” he sighed. “You go on up. I’ll draw them in.”

“Don’t stay down here,” Rhodey advised. “This is the worst place to be. It’s the kill -” he broke off.

The drones were there and they were surrounded. Tony took his place beside Rhodey, so they stood side by side, ready for the onslaught.

The face plates went down and the shooting began. They worked in tandem, targeting the grey comets who dared to approach, burning up anything that got too close, leaving behind their trails of dust.

It barely made a dint to their ranks, Tony realised, as new drones flew in to take the place of the ones they’d decimated. They were closing in, forcing them towards the barycentre.

“We need a plan of attack,” Rhodey pointed out, when he realised their situation was critical. 

“I have a plan!” he shouted. "Get down!"

Rhodey complied instantly, in a show of complete trust. Then, lasers beamed out of Tony’s suit, as he swung around in an arc, terminating the drones (and a lamp post) in what felt like a long second.

 “Wow. I think you should lead with that next time,” Rhodey commented.

“Sorry, boss. It’s a one-off.”

“So, those things just stopped whatever the hell they were doing,” Rhodey mused, after kicking at one of the drones to be sure.

Tony sighed. "Hammer Tech," he said and Rhodey began to chuckle.

“Alpha locked,” Steve said over the comms, indicating that things were going well on his end. “Thor, report on the Hulk.”

“The gates of Hel are filled with the screams of his victims! But not the screams of the dead, of course. No, no- wounded screams, mainly whimpering.”

“Houston, we have a problem,” Bruce informed them calmly, making it painfully obvious what the issue was.

It was happening (or not happening) again. Bruce was having issues turning into the Hulk. It seemed like being part of a big, loving family was doing nothing for their predicament wonders for his temperament.

“Banner, give the blades to Thor. Can you coordinate evac?” Steve asked, the safety of innocent employees not far from his mind.

“As long as I don’t have to take the stairs,” he explained while Rhodey raced over to pick him up.

“What’s the situation in the control room?” Steve asked, pushing Clint for a status report.

“We’re clear,” Clint said. “Nat’s here. Pretty sure we’ve got this covered.”

“Thor, you’ve got Bravo,” Steve said. “And Tony, I’m going to need a ride.”

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Tony told him.

“I just did,” he said.

Tony cursed as he shot off, catching Steve just before he hit the ground.

“Look!” Tony shouted. “I know you trust me, but you’re taking the idea of a trust fall way too far!”

“You got me,” Steve pointed out, ignoring his complaint as he picked up the server blade from Thor and soared towards the last helicarrier.

“You're a lot heavier than you look,” Tony grumbled when he set Steve down, as gently as he could. Only for him to be violently pushed off the edge.

Tony’s eyes moved upward, trying to keep the cold blood in his veins from freezing as he took in the boots, the uniform, the arm, and the iciest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“I need backup,” he shouted into the comms. ‘Helicarrier C. Steve is down. And – And Winter is here.”

He was fast. He was strong. He had a metal arm.

Tony did his best to hold him off and stay out of the way. But it was unbelievably hard to fight someone you weren’t actively trying to kill. He tried to escape. He wanted to help Steve. But the assassin kept getting in the way.

“Bravo locked,” Thor reported. “Here comes the parade,” he said as a group of HYDRA pilots began firing at him.

“Guys?” Tony called, trying not to panic.

“Relax, Shellhead,” Nat said. “Not all of us can fly.”

Then, a blur of silver, red and blue whizzed into the helicarrier, landing on the ground in front of him.

Rhodey pushed Steve off him. “Sorry, Tones. Had to make a detour,” he explained.

“Helicarrier C. I said Helicarrier C!” Tony shouted.

“It’s not like they put letters by the sides of these things, you know?” Rhodey fired back before disappearing to assist Thor.

Steve was rubbing his wrists as he groaned, “Your friend. He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

“I could say the same about yours,” Tony pointed out.

Steve was up and in front of them in a second, shield up. “Tony, he’s coming. Eyes up. Stay sharp.”

“You know my armour is bulletproof, right?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yup, and you can also fly,” Steve answered, handing the targeting blade to him. “So, go. Finish the mission. I can hold him off.”

“Fine,” Tony sighed, deciding to do as he was told, but not before giving orders of his own. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

Then, he fired up his blasters to take him to the control room on the upper deck, where he successfully switched the server blades.

“Charlie locked,” Tony said, reporting back to Hill, who was coordinating.

He sighed, relieved, as the number of targets dropped from ‘645,427’ to just ‘3’, one of which they were standing inside of.

“You have five minutes,” Agent Hill informed them. “Get out of there now.”

All hopes of a quick escape were dashed when he came out to find Steve on the ground with the Winter Soldier on him. Steve, like an idiot, was lying down and just taking it.

“You know me,” Steve gasped, despite the death grip on his neck.

“No, I don’t!” the Winter Soldier shouted, releasing his neck to punch his right eye with the metal hand.

“Bucky, you’ve known me your whole life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Shut up,” he cried, punching the same eye again.

“I’m not going to fight you. You’re my friend.”

“You’re my mission. You’re my mission. You’re my mission,” he chanted, ending each statement with a new punch to an already-bloodied eye.

“Then, finish it,” Steve gasped, looking defeated. “Because I’m -.”

A self-sacrificing dumbass damnit!

“Steve,” he shouted, and the Winter Soldier froze at the sound of the name. Tony took advantage of his hesitation to drag Steve towards relative safety.

“Get out of here,” Steve urged, pushing Tony towards the exits.

But Tony refused to budge. “No, not without you,” he said.

“You go first. I’ll catch up,” Steve insisted, trying to sit up despite Tony holding him firmly by the shoulders.

“Hey, you’re done. Stand down. Final warning,” he threatened, flicking up his face plate to show Steve he meant business.

“I can do this all day. I can do this all by myself,” he gasped, clearly out of breath.

“The thing is, you don’t have to," Tony said, frowning at his husband. "Because I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Steve stopped struggling at the words, staring at him, with his eyes wide and mouth open. 

“Do you trust me?” Tony asked.

“I do,” he said.

“Good. Because contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I am doing.”

Tony knew exactly how many words it took to activate the winter soldier.

Ten.

He recited the words, one by one, in impeccably-polished Russian. He’d practised, made sure he’d said them right. There was no room for mistakes.

Longing

Rusted

Furnace

Daybreak

Seventeen

Benign

Nine

Homecoming

One

Freight car

He paused to look at the assassin who staring at him in a mix of curiosity and wonder.

The words were perfect. He’d practised every day for over twelve years, waiting for their paths to cross again. There was no way he would forget the words, not after being kidnapped by the Winter Soldier, an attempt by HYDRA to force his dad into giving them his version of the super-soldier serum.

He was a child, having only just celebrated his tenth birthday. They hadn’t hurt him. Even HYDRA had their limits. But they had no problems drilling the words into this man’s head, breaking him and his will to pieces as they turned him into their own Manchurian Candidate.

Tony had thrown a tantrum, refused to eat or sleep, insisted he wanted to be guarded by the Winter Solider and only him. Then, when the lights went out, he whispered the same words to him and then some.

All night, every night, he’d traced the metal blades with his arm, closing his eyes as the red star burnt in his mind. That was how he slept, kept impossibly warm by a man who spent far too much time being cold.

They had a plan to escape together. And it would have worked. It was just too bad they never got to execute it. Tony hadn’t cried tears of relief when he was rescued, but tears of regret. If only they had one more day. If only they had one more night.

He spent the next 4,800 nights waiting for this moment. And this time, he wasn’t going to let him down.

Tony knew. It took exactly ten words to turn a good man into a ruthless killer. But how many words did it take to turn him back to the person he was?

Just one.  

“Sputnik.”

The word, spoken aloud, was all it took to undo the spell. Then, the Winter Soldier unravelled, falling to his knees, trying to ground himself to a helicarrier that was falling apart as icy blue eyes melting into pools of unshed tears.

“Дружище (Friend)?” Tony asked.

He breathed a word, another word, in response. “Apollo.”

He remembered him too.

Things were coming together and falling apart. So, grabbing Bucky with his left arm and the barely-conscious Steve with his right, he flew them out of the helicarrier as it shattered to bits.

***

It was a month before they were back in the public eye.

Natasha had to attend a committee hearing on Capitol Hill, basically told the government to kiss her ass. Bucky attended hearings of his own, and was pardoned for his crimes while acting under HYDRA’s control.

All that was left was the press conference. With the information he’d leaked, rumours were circulating, about him being more than the suit’s maker. So, the conference was nothing more than a formality, an official confirmation of his identity.

He had a quick shower, finger combing his hair so it at least stayed out of his face. Pepper came over with some face powder but he very gently brushed her aside.

He ignored the suit Coulson had picked out, opting instead for a T-shirt and dark jeans. He did, however, consider throwing on Steve’s his jacket in case it got chilly, but lately, he was running hot.

Right. His heat was on its way.

He strode onto the stage, to the sounds of applause and the lights of camera flashes. “And now, Mr Stark has prepared a statement,” Phil said, welcoming him to the lectern.

“Thank you, Phil. Hello, everyone,” he greeted.

Tony scanned the audience, mostly the media with their pens, notepads and cameras at the ready. He took a quick glance at the cue cards he’d prepared.

He opened his mouth. Then, closed it again. He wasn’t tongue-tied, nor suffering from stage fright. Talking to large groups of people had never been a problem.

It just didn’t feel right. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation. He was doing his best and that was all that anyone could do. They just needed to know one thing and it was the truth.

“I am Iron Man,” he said.

The media rocketed out of their seats, shooting hundreds of questions at him, even though Phil had specifically asked them not to. Tony looked past them, searching, scanning- for a face at the back of the room, beaming brightly back at him. It was a smile so brilliant it eclipsed everyone and everything there. He was looking at a smile of sunrises and new beginnings, a promise that he would never be alone. 

As he waved back at Steve, the light fell on the stones on his finger. He realised that happiness, true happiness had always been in his hands. He’d found himself and his family. He had built them a home. And that joy, that effervescent bubbling in his heart, it was real.

The after-party was in three hours, at their brand-new compound in upstate New York, somewhere along the Hudson River.

It was meant to be a picnic, on the lawn, under the stars. Jarvis and Ana had outdone themselves with the food and desserts and they were all in for a treat.

Rhodey arrived violently in front of him, blowing away the contents of his taco. He travelled everywhere in the suit these days, ruining everyone's lunches, so there was no excuse for missing the party.

He never needed one anyway. Just a word, a name – Pepper, and he’d dropped all commitments to be there. She was laughing at his War Machine joke (that no one else found funny), so he took it as a cue to leave them alone.

Things with Bucky had been awkward at first, but apologies were (sincerely and profusely) made and forgiveness was given. Still, Tony had to look away every time the arm came into view.

There was only one thing they could do.

Bucky loved the new arm, had a hand in designing it. They opted for a white star against blue to complement the new uniform Tony was designing for him. Yes, uniform. Because like Steve and Nat and the rest of them, Bucky was a fighter. And he was going to avenge all the people he had wronged.

“Apollo, I don’t know if I’m worth all this,” Bucky said as Tony described the weapons he was designing for him. 

Tony sighed. “What you did all those years ago, it wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.”

“I know. But I did it." 

He looked so sad and lost that Tony wanted to hug him but he stopped. Because Natasha was walking their way, looking neither sad nor lost.

Tony was thrilled to see her for the first time since DC because she and Clint had gone on a long series of missions to mop up what had been left of HYDRA.

Bucky, too, was surprised. “Natalia?” he asked, his voice breathy with disbelief, the use of her real name indicating they were acquainted.

“James,” she acknowledged with a quick slap to his face.

It wasn’t hard, not in the least, but completely unexpected. Once the shock had worn off, Bucky laughed and his eyes shone with mirth.

“That was for shooting me. In Odessa. And this is for DC,” she explained, slapping him a second time.

This time, her hand lingered on his cheek, so he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as he pulled her in.  

She leaned against his chest. “Me too,” she said.

The next time he saw them, their lips were locked, so he averted his gaze. Public displays of affection (at least the ones that didn’t involve him) made him very uncomfortable so he decided to quietly slip away.

Only for Clint to tackle him roughly from behind. “It’s Lila’s birthday next month and we’re having the party right here. Any chance of Iron Man making an appearance? And not just a flyby but maybe some mingling?”

“Thinks for thanking of me. As long as it’s next month. I’m working hard on being not-busy this month. You know right?” he said, reminding Clint that he was going on a vacation. With Steve. And barring any potential world-ending events, they were not to be interrupted.

“Yup. Let's see how long we hold up before everything goes to shit," Clint said before thanking Tony for the family suite he'd designed for his growing family. Tony waved away the thanks, just thrilled to have new people children joining them in their new home.

Thor and Bruce joined them and for a while, they talked about the ladies in their lives – Jane, Laura, VERONICA. Tony had to mediate when the discussion turned into a shouting match over whose lady was smarter, stronger, better.

Crisis was averted when Tony proposed an idea that had recently occurred to him – a suit of armour around the world. They explored the possibilities before agreeing that even it if was going to end up being a city-hall debate, it was a decision best made as a team.

A team was built in four stages – forming, storming, norming and performing. They were making good process on the whole, although once in a while, some members, the semi-stable seventy-five-year-old ones, tended to regress.

“Seriously, punk? You have never been a medium. Not in any universe. Stop trying to fit in,” Bucky said, calling Steve out for wearing undersized T-shirts.

“Seriously, jerk? You have to cut the left sleeves off all of yours?”

“You’re just jealous Apollo made me an arm.”

Tony got between them, standing protectively in front of Steve. “Steve, Sputnik, how nice to see you getting along."

“Bucky, his name is Bucky,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Rude, Steve,” Bucky said, glaring. Apollo can call me whatever he wants.”

“Someday, someday, I’ll get that arm,” Steve threatened.

“He just might,” Natasha warned, as she joined the group. “It’ll only be like the time he took Tony’s suit.”

“You, what?” Bucky growled, outraged, before he smacking Steve at the back of his head, thankfully with his flesh hand.

“Ow! Buck! I’m sorry! I said I was. Only about a hundred times!”

Then, Nat clinked a spoon against the rim of her wine glass, drawing their friends closer so they could listen to what she had to say.

“Everyone, I’d like to make a little toast. My romantic life has been on hold, until about ten minutes ago. Honestly, it’s hard not to be cynical about love. But couples like you give hope to the rest of us. Tony, you deserve nothing but the best. Steve, don’t you dare hurt him.” Natasha said, shooting him a glare.

“I won’t,” Steve said, laughing at what he thought was a joke.  

“Don’t laugh.” Bucky growled. “She means it.”

“Okay. I won’t,” he promised.

“Seriously, mortal, don’t hurt him,” Thor asserted.

“I’m not planning on hurting him,” Steve informed him, defensively.  

Clint put on his tough-dad face. “You better not be,” he warned.

“I’m not!”

“Hey, Steve,” Rhodey added. “You best watch yourself.”

“Why would any of you think I’d hurt Tony?” Steve asked, exasperated and hurt. “You’re my friends too!’

“Nah,” Bruce sang, grinning deviously at the frustrated alpha. “We are your family.”

They were. They were his family. He’d found them, all on his own. It was little and broken, but growing, and very, very good.

He was a little sad when they all dispersed, returning to their newly-assigned rooms. However, he was looking forward to the next step. Steve was already dressed in his uniform, ready for takeoff.

“Put on the suit,” he told him, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Why? You’re just going to want to take it off,” Tony teased.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Big man in a suit of armour. Take that off and what are you?”

It brought him back to a simpler time, before he was Iron Man, before they were even bonded. Right after they’d tied the knot.

“Thought you knew? I’m just a boy who wants to be loved.”

And it dawned on him, why he hadn't been able to say those words. Telling someone you loved them made you vulnerable. It meant stripping one of their armour, their clothing, even their skin to bare their heart.

He couldn't have done that when he hadn't even known who he was or who he was about to become. But now, he did.

“I love you,” Tony said, feeling light-headed at the confession. It was hard to breathe, and he felt dizzy, like they’d left the atmosphere.

Steve’s smile got impossibly wider. “I know,” he said.

Tony let out a huff. “Really? Steve? Now? Right now is when you choose to quote Star Wars at me? Do you know how hard it’s been to – mmph – ugh -,” he stopped, interrupted by the warm mouth on his.

Despite how close they were, pressed up against each other, the space between them was unbearably vast. But everything was falling into place. And the stars in the night sky appeared to pale in comparison to the brightness in his heart.

Finally, Steve broke away. And told him, “I love you too.”

Tony’s eyes drifted upwards to study the sun-kissed hair and brilliant blue eyes. With his finger, he traced the pink lips, appreciating the crescent of his smile. He gazed at the star of Steve’s uniform with the same focus he gave to his birthday candles and remembered how, many moons ago, upon those blue flames, he'd wished for the universe.

And Steve was the sun, the moon and all of his stars.

“Put on the suit,” Steve repeated, a little more impatiently this time. “Venice awaits. And we have a bond to mend.”

“We do,” Tony agreed, tapping the ring.

Then, they soared into the evening sky.

As a boy, he wanted to reach for the stars, what appeared to be the farthest thing out there. Later, he learnt to reach deep within his heart, which was the same thing in the opposite direction.

By doing both, he hoped that he would one day span the galaxy. It was to be a beautiful journey. And every journey began with one small step, one giant leap. Of faith.

And he didn’t need to do it alone.

His parents’ lights had gone out before their time. And in that moment of darkness, he’d looked up to the evening sky, found the right star and it had led him home.

As they streaked to their destination across the evening sky, Tony thought of a lone star, drifting through the universe before finding its twin and the rest of their cluster. Some called it a galaxy. He, however, called it a family.

His mind circled back to a verse he’d read, two years ago, perhaps on one of the darkest nights of his life.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light.

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

And today?

He was Iron Man.