liyetxt.cc 
"Good." Tony nodded to himself, taking the stairs two at a time.
He should've known better than to flirt with Cap. Karma always loved to bite him in the ass. Who cared about some relic of a soldier Howard had known once upon forever ago, when he had Steve right here? Steve was nothing short of incredible. Steve was everything Tony hadn't even dreamed of, and he wasn't throwing it away for some flag-faced do-gooder.
Part of him was glad Captain Clumsy had deleted Steve's messages. They were retrievable, after all—he was Tony Stark, come on—but the momentary panic that he'd lost them was enough to remind him who he really wanted.
And it sure as hell wasn't the one prancing around in America-themed tights.
"Please tell me you made popcorn?" Tony greeted, waving a hand at Steve as he entered. "I'm dying of starvation over here."
"Big project?" Steve asked, raising the bowl of popcorn to Tony in answer and offering.
"Like you wouldn't believe. They made me sign confidentiality and everything." Tony mimed zipping his lips as he collapsed next to Steve on the couch, stealing the popcorn greedily. "Sorry. I'll tell you when it's public. I can tell you one thing though—don't meet your heroes. They turn out to be human."
Steve gave him a weird look, and Tony paused.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just…nothing."
"Don't you nothing me." Tony bumped shoulders with Steve. "What's up? Has the serial killer decided to murder me at last?"
"Keep making fun of me, I just might." Steve snorted. "It's just…well, what's wrong with being human?"
"Nothing wrong with it." Tony shrugged, trying to figure out how to phrase himself without giving too much away. "I'm exaggerating, sort of. He wasn't that bad. I just had an important realization, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I kind of stood him up, actually, but I can make up an excuse later."
"What kind of important realization?" Steve was looking at him with very intent curiosity, and Tony found himself wanting to fidget.
Oh, you know, just that it turns out the supposed peak of human perfection is nothing compared to you.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Robinson." Tony waved him off, grabbing another handful of popcorn. "What you should worry about is bringing a change of clothes tomorrow."
"Oh?"
"The kids have a surprise for you." Tony nodded innocently. Oh, tomorrow was going to be fun.
"The kids, huh?" Steve shot him a look, obviously not buying it.
"Yep." Tony just grinned, not missing a beat. He paused briefly, then, "They missed you, y'know."
"They did, did they?" Steve seemed amused, probably seeing right through Tony's flimsy excuse.
"A lot more than they expected." Tony was careful to keep his eyes on the movie instead of Steve. "I mean, it was only three days, I told them they were being ridiculous, but. You know kids."
"Kids." Tony could feel Steve watching him. He was clearly aware that they weren't talking about the kids anymore. "Well, you can tell them I missed them a hell of a lot myself."
"I'll be sure to do that."
They watched the movie silently for a little while, and Tony was trying to figure out why the hell he couldn't just tell Steve he'd fucking missed him like a normal, functioning human being, when Steve leaned closer, putting a hand on Tony's wrist.
"Tony?"
"Yeah?" Had his voice always sounded that squeaky?
"Could I ask you something?"
"Anything." Tony answered immediately before backtracking, trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks. "Uh, you know me, open book, ask away."
"Your…nightmare. Last week?" Steve was being gentle, reminding him, and Tony wanted to curl up and die.
That had been utterly mortifying. He'd woken up clinging to Steve like a leech; he still wasn't sure why Steve didn't stopped coming over after that, but he was terrifyingly grateful he hadn't.
"I remember."
His voice sounded dry. He should probably get some water. Get up and move in any direction at all, really. Away sounded good. Something kept him in place, though; it was probably Steve's hand, cautious but steady on his wrist. Tony was pretty sure Steve didn't realize his thumb was rubbing circles there, and Tony wasn't inclined to let him know. He might stop, after all.
"Could you tell me about it?"
"That's, um, a really very long story, complicated, you know, I'm sure you'd find it rather dull, actually, maybe it's best if—"
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Steve was looking down at his hand, the one he still hadn't removed from Tony's. He looked up, meeting Tony's eyes with a sincerity Tony wasn't sure he knew what to do with. "But I'd like to know."
Well, shit.
"JARVIS, shut the movie off." He waved a hand impatiently at the tv, looking at Steve dubiously. "I wasn't kidding when I said it's a long story."
"I'd like to hear it." Steve's voice was soft.
Under different circumstances Tony might've been irritated with the fragile treatment, but it felt different, with Steve. He wasn't treating him like he was breakable, exactly, just…like he cared. Like he wanted to hear the answer and was willing to sit in silence until he got it.
"StarkIndustries was my father's baby. He loved that company more than anything; more than me." Tony waved Steve's open mouth off insistently. "No interrupting. I'm not exaggerating, and that's not the point of the story. He died when I was seventeen, less than a week after I graduated college. There was a car accident, same one that killed my mother, and Jarvis."
He didn't mean to fall silent. He didn't even realize he'd stopped speaking until Steve was hugging him tight enough to bruise.
"If you're going to hug me every time something bad happens in this story, we're not going to get anywhere."
"Fine by me." Steve's voice sounded odd, constricted.
Tony let himself drop his forehead against Steve's shoulder. It was nice. It was sappy and shouldn't matter half as much as it did, but it felt good to know Steve was there to hold him up even when he didn't know he needed it. When Steve eventually released him, Tony didn't meet his eyes. He wasn't exactly proud of this part, and he had a feeling Steve wouldn't like it much either.
"StarkIndustries was, uh. Was Howard's legacy. I never really made him proud, not the way the company did, and…even if he was dead, that was still…that was all I wanted. So I kept going. I made it bigger and better. I went international. I made weapons powerful enough to take down mountains. They called me the Merchant of Death, by the end of it, and I—look, if we're going to talk about this, I should probably get everything out there, over and done with before you read it in a tabloid somewhere—I was a, well, a pretty shitty person. I was a war profiteer, really, and I didn't care. I drank, partied, and fucked away any second thoughts."
He still didn't look up. He really didn't want to see Steve's reaction.
"I'd wake up, spend a few hours in the shop, hit a board meeting or two, get wasted, find a party, fuck someone, rinse and repeat. There were some award galas and business lunches and some charity events in there, but, um."
Steve was still sitting there. He was very still, but he wasn't running for the door. That was something. Tony pushed forward.
"Anyway. Someone decided I was too much of a loose cannon. I was in, uh, Afghanistan demonstrating the Jericho—last mass production weapon I ever designed, able to take out a mountain range—when my convoy was attacked. I got a bunch of soldiers killed, and they—the terrorists, well, Ten Rings grunts really, but it's sort of the same thing—they, um, well. Kidnapped me. I spent a while in captivity while they tried to, to convince me I should build them a Jericho. I told them no, obviously, but they didn't really take that well, mostly just made them up the ante, really, which is, you know—" Tony had to actively fight the urge to tap at the arc reactor. It was hidden under two shirts and a case cover to block the light, but he always felt its presence, now more than ever. "Nightmare material, I'm sure you can imagine."
