The dream was always the same. He was dark and cold and voices screamed at him in a dozen languages. Each sentence was punctuated by a word he knew: Jericho. They demanded it from him. If they could rip it out of him, they would, leaving his viscera spread across the cave like homage the modern art he collected. He'd seen what they would do with it. Though it meant his unmaking, he kept screaming, "No, no Jericho."

Pain lanced through the darkness with the voices. He couldn't breathe. Water flooded his senses, pouring down his throat as he opened his mouth to yell. Blood cascaded from his chest, too much to stop, too much to survive.

A new voice joined the others, this one calm and cool, speaking in English, "We call them the walking dead."

He tried to put pressure on the yawning void of his chest. His hands slipped in the dark gore. His head felt like it was floating. There wasn't anything he could do. Even if he stopped the bleeding, the shards of metal would cut their way to his heart. He could feel them working through his chest as if they were alive, wriggling through the soft tissue like worms through dirt. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but there was blood filling his throat. He choked and fell, the voices still shrieking for the Jericho missile.

Tony jerked awake, his hand going to his chest. There was no blood. His fingers grazed lightly over the puckered scar tissue on his left pectoral, pausing at the raised lip of his arc reactor. The device was warm, as it always was. Tony absently drummed the metal and glass dome that covered the reactor, trying to chase the wisps of dream out of his mind with thoughts of a new type of combustion engine.

His breathing slowly evened out while he was doing the math for potential feedback on the cylinders. Inhale, square the output to find the reaction speed, exhale. He was optimizing the fuel injectors when the bedroom door clicked open and the light from the hall spilled across the foot of his bed. It wasn't difficult to determine whom the silhouette in the doorway belonged to. Using height and stance, Tony had it narrowed down to the Captain long before the other man spoke.

"I heard shouts."

If he were capable of blushing, Tony would have, but he'd thankfully stopped that childish habit before he got out of high school. Instead, he pulled a smile on over his embarrassment and rolled out of bed, "Sorry, Cap. Did I ruin your beauty sleep? I'll try to be a little quieter next time I go after my gun." Tony followed his words with a quick gesture that should've made a prude like Rogers run for the hills.

The Captain was usually an open book. He hid very little and shared what he was thinking with only slight prodding, but being lit from behind made Steven's expression impossible to read. Tony had been working with Steve for almost a year. In eleven months, they'd had a dozen missions, each one giving Tony more insight to the Captain's simplistic, but oddly effective mind. If anything could get the man to go away, it was jokes about masturbation… or scientific explanations that went over his head, but the jokes were more fun.

Normally, the upper levels of the tower were empty, but another crisis had brought the team together a week ago and they hadn't quite gotten around to breaking apart yet. The end of the mission had turned into a celebration with too much booze, so they'd stayed that night. The next night had evolved into a surprise movie marathon planned by Hawk to catch some of their pop culture deprived teammates up on the times. With Thor demanding another movie at the credit roll of each show they'd watched, it had turned into super heroes sleeping on Tony's couches while Pulp Fiction played in the background. It was nice to have a little company since Pepper had left, so Tony didn't complain, but he was running low on liquor and cups to put it in since Thor had a habit of throwing mugs.

When Steve didn't move, Tony pursed his lips and went to the window. He'd never been the type to own drapes, so the glass was opaque to keep out of the glare of Manhattan. "Jarvis, bring up the schematics for the engine block I've been working on. And get the capsicle a warm glass of milk; he seems to be having tro-"

"I know that's not what was going on," Steve's tone was level and sure.

The window flared to life with a brilliant blue wireframe of an engine and a sidebar of Tony's notes. Tony flicked his finger over the smooth glass, watching intently as the notes flashed by. When he got to the one concerning cylinder output, he expanded it to the next window over. The glass filled with equations.

"It was nothing," Tony stated, despite the sweat cooling on his bare chest and the tight knot still twisting his stomach.

After a moment, the door closed, leaving only the glow of the projections and the white-blue light of Tony's reactor. Tony let his hand drop from the window. The lines of the wireframe pulsed softly with the rhythm of the tower's arc core. It was so faint that it was impossible to detect in the daytime, but at night, Tony admired the faint pulse. It was almost a heartbeat.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as Tony realized he wasn't alone. Steve was lighter on his feet than Tony would like to give him credit for. When Tony turned, the Captain was only an arm's length away. The blonde stilled when Tony's eyes fixed on him. In the light of Tony's reactor, Steve's expression was somber and pale. The Captain was dressed for bed in loose cotton pants and a grey t-shirt, but didn't look like he'd woken from a deep sleep. His short, soldier haircut was still perfectly combed.

"Was it your time as a POW?" Steve asked with his tone heavy with concern.

Tony rolled his eyes and went back to his engine block, "Just because SHIELD puts something in my file, it doesn't mean it's true."

"But the conclusion that you were suffering from post traumatic stress disorder is not an unreasonable one."

Tony's shoulders went rigid. "Jarvis, exploded view," he somehow managed to keep his voice level. As the engine came apart on his screen, Tony flicked a few of the obsolete features into the glowing recycling bin by his foot. "What would you know about PTSD? They hadn't even decided it was a real disorder in your time."

"No," the Captain came close enough that Tony could feel his body heat at his back. "But that doesn't mean that I haven't watched men suffer from it. I know what you're going through."

Anger flared through Tony. He whipped around and shoved Steve's chest to get a little distance between them. "Don't you dare. You can pretend to be a lot of things, but don't even begin to think that you understand me," Tony growled without really meaning to.

He liked to act as if his past didn't bother him. He put up shields to keep people away from the still-aching wounds, away from the terror he wished he didn't have. But it didn't change what was there, and for some grade A science project to come waltzing in as if he knew how to suture a wound like Tony's… it was too much.

Steve studied him, strangely unaffected by Tony's outburst. The blue of his eyes was even more vivid in the glow of the reactor, cutting into Tony like he could see what Tony had successfully hidden from every therapist and doctor he'd been forced to speak with in the years since his abduction.

When the Captain didn't say anything, Tony swiped his hand over the window to clear it and said, "Jarvis, let's start from scratch. What do you have in the archives for a baseline engine block?"

A stream of glowing wireframes slid down the glass like radioactive rain as the computer responded, "Sir, if I knew what kind of engine you were trying to build, I could narrow the search."

Tony absently knocked away the images that didn't fit with his mental math, "Just keep them coming." He pressed his index finger to a Chevy block and dragged it off to the side as a possibility.

"I do understand." Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Steve beat him to it, "I had a buddy named Bucky who spent months in Hydra's camp. Watching him struggle to fight them off even after he was safe, I learned a lot about your modern disorder." The word 'modern' was almost bitter. It hung in the air longer than the rest of his statement.

Tony left his hand hovering over the glowing engines, his work forgotten. He remembered the notation about Steve's friend, so small it was barely a footnote in the man's file. It was the reason he'd gotten involved in the war, the reason he'd dropped into the heart of enemy territory and become the legend everyone knew him to be. Tony also knew James Buchanan Barnes had been killed in action with the Captain looking on. Even with his textbook knowledge of the man, he'd never heard Steve talk about him.

"I may not understand what they see on brain scans of broken soldiers, but I know that Bucky would wake up screaming and I was the only one who could hold him down so he wouldn't hurt himself," the Captain explained in a voice that was distant.

Tony glanced over his shoulder to find that Steve was just as far away. The man hadn't moved, but his mind was fifty years in the past with the people he'd known and lost. Tony didn't want to do this. He'd fought alongside the other Avengers, but he really didn't want to get too close to them. The closer he was, the harder it would be to accept when one of them got killed. Being emotionally remote was easier. On Tony's deserted island, he was king and he didn't want any well-meaning rescue boats changing that.

The words came to his lips like a defense mechanism, cold and hard-edged, "Well, I'm sorry about your fuck buddy, but I'm fine. It was just a dream." Tony turned his back to the Captain before he could see the hurt in those bright, sapphire eyes. He pulled an Audi racing engine over with the Chevy and continued to scroll through his options.

Powerful hands clamped down on his shoulders and spun him around. For a second, Tony was certain Steve was going to hit him. He instinctively threw his arms in the way to block the blow, even knowing the Captain could break both of his arms with one good hook. Instead, Steve yanked him tight against his barrel chest. One strong arm slid down around Tony's waist and the other curled comfortably around his shoulders.

Pressed against the Captain's body, Tony blinked and then blinked again, his brow dipping, "Um… what are you doing?"

He felt more than heard Steve's chuckle, "Most people call it a hug."

Tony squirmed in the Captain's hold, pressing at the man's chest with both hands, "Quit it. I don't do hugs."

Steve easily outmatched him without his suit and didn't seem particularly inclined to let him go. In fact, the man gave him a light squeeze and asked, "Who doesn't do hugs?"

"I think even in your timeframe, bro hugs are not supposed to last longer than a second or two. You're breaking the rules here, Cap."

"What's a bro hug?"

"Seriously, we live in a tower full of super heroes. If you don't let go, I'm going to yell rape," Tony threatened, though they both knew it was an empty threat. He'd sooner go into battle naked than live down Thor and Natasha's endless mockery for a situation like this.

Steve sighed, his breath rustling Tony's hair, "Is it that bad?"

Tony stilled and curled his hands against the Captain's chest. He quickly analyzed the warmth radiating from Steve's frame and the strong arms circling him like nothing in the world would hurt him again. It wasn't bad, it was even kind of nice, but it wasn't what he was used to.

The closest he'd ever come to something like this was during his years at MIT. Like any good college student, he'd used his time away from his parents to experiment, though it was difficult to find willing partners since he'd been in his teens at the time. There was one man he'd been with, almost as brilliant as he was and just a few years older. It was nearly something real.

The media hounds had ruined it before it could grow into its potential and Tony never saw him again. After the fallout with his father, Tony had thrown himself into his studies and started sleeping with a girl a week hoping to get back in his father's good graces. Looking back on it, he was foolish to think that the old man could ever forget something like that. Howard Stark could strangle the media so not even a whisper of his son's tryst made it to the national news, but it didn't mean he would forgive his boy.

Tony relaxed against Steve, letting his cheek rest against the other man's shoulder, "No, it's not bad, just weird."

Steve stroked meaningless patterns on his back, encouraging Tony to relax even further, "Why is it so weird?"

"Are you going to start singing Kum ba yah? Because I don't think I can handle that."

Steve snorted, "I'll skip Kum ba yah this time."

"Good. This moment doesn't need any extra help getting cheesy, we're already there," Tony complained even as he slid his arms up around Steve's shoulders.

He let the Captain take a little more of his weight. Steve could probably carry him in his armor, let alone like this, but Tony wasn't willing to get held like an infant. His feet stayed planted in the carpet. Sleep dragged at his mind, reminding him that it was the middle of the night. Tony was no stranger to staying up at all hours, but that usually involved coffee.

Wrapped up in the Captain's comforting warmth, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Some small part of him knew that going to bed meant Steve would go back to his own rooms and the idea of staying with him seemed more appealing. Tony doubted that the Captain's good will would extend that far. It was Tony who was thinking about old relationships while Steve was probably just trying to soothe a friend.

Tony started to drift off to the steady, strong sounds of the Captain. The sound of the man's breathing balanced perfectly with the throb of blood rushing through his body just beneath Tony's ear. Vaguely, he wondered if a heartbeat that was augmented by super soldier serum had a different rhythm than one that was kept alive by an arc reactor.

The arms at his waist shifted back so Steve could wrap his hands around Tony. The Captain lifted him easily, bracing one arm under Tony's ass as he carried him.

"What are you doing?" Tony mumbled with little conviction.

Steve's lips brushed against the top of his head when he responded, "Putting you to bed."

Steve went a few steps before Tony's eyes fluttered open with realization: the Captain just kissed the top of his head. This was not a casual attempt to comfort; it was exactly what Tony suspected. He was never wrong. When the Captain set him down on the tangle of sheets, Tony stayed upright. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared up at Steve as if it would produce answers without the need for questions.

Noticing Tony's attention, Steve knelt on the floor in front of him and took a gentle hold of Tony's biceps, "Are you alright?"

"You were sleeping with Bucky, weren't you?" He didn't intend on being so blunt, but he wanted the truth and being nice gave people the room to dance around a question. His curiosity had always been stronger than his need to keep people at a distance.

Steve drew away from him, his eyebrows pinching together and his mouth parting with obvious shock, "How did you-"

"Know? I didn't know until you confirmed it, I just had suspicions."

Dropping back onto his heels, Steve ran his hand through his hair. His gaze flicked around the room. It ended up settling on the glowing images on the window in his attempts to avoid Tony's intense stare. "Bucky and I were in a relationship before the war started, but he was always looking for the perfect woman and trying to set me up with one too. After the serum, after Hydra, neither of us were the same. We started sleeping together again, but it was different… it was more…" Steve trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

Tony supplied him with a few, "Desperate? Forced? Kinky?"


Tony's mouth twisted to the side as he admitted, "Well, I was a ways off." There was something else in the Captain's file that was bothering him, "Wait, wasn't there a woman? The one you were working with."

"Peggy?" Steve sounded surprised.

"Yeah, sure. I've seen enough of the reels to know something was going on there."

"Tony, things weren't the same back then. The only chance we had in surviving our own neighbors was to find a nice girl to settle down with," Steve explained as he got up.

"So, you were just faking it."

Something like pain crossed Steve's face. He sat on the bed beside Tony, leaving plenty of space between them, "No, I actually did care about Peggy. I cared about her more than I thought I would."

"But what about Bucky?"

"Bucky was the one pushing me to make things work with Peggy. He thought it was a good chance for me to make a normal life."

"And you just wanted to be with him."

Steve's muscles corded under his thin shirt, his answer was strained, "I- I did."

"But you ended up with her?"

Steve surged to his feet, "Damn it, Stark! Do you have to pick at something until its bleeding?"

Tony had never seen the Captain lose his temper. He'd gotten mad, gotten in arguments, but never yelled like that. Even as Steve was mumbling an apology, Tony was putting the rest of the pieces into place. The Captain had clearly done some research about what it meant to be a gay man in modern times, but there was still a lot left he wasn't considering. Being heroes in the public eye meant they had to be just as secretive about it as men were back in Steve's day.

Tony's eyes went wide as he recognized the decision he'd subconsciously made. He was already thinking about how they could make it work. How about that. Tony wasn't as against the idea as he thought he might be, it was a little stupid since he knew how much risk was involved, but he was willing to bet the over-all benefit was worth it. He'd have to repair the damage he'd just done and there was only one good way he could think of.

Steve was halfway to the door when Tony stopped him with a statement, "My SHIELD file is incomplete."

So far from the light of the arc reactor, Steve was just a shadow in the darkness, but Tony thought he turned towards him. Steve didn't have to put pressure on him for details; Tony had already decided to tell him.

"I didn't report how bad it really was. You know about the bomb and the arc reactor from the file, that was impossible to leave out since I came back with a nightlight in my chest, but I wouldn't tell them about the torture," Tony said quietly as he studied the point where his scarred fingers curled in the sheets. Talking about it brought it to the edge of his mind. He could practically hear their foreign screams. "It was almost a month before I came up with the idea for my suit. During some of that, I was still recovering from the bomb blast. The rest of the time, they tried to force me to make the Jericho missile. They'd hold my head under water until I started to black out, then they'd let me up just long enough to demand that I make the missile. It would go on for days."

Steve padded across the room silently, the thick carpet swallowing his footsteps. Tony didn't look up as the mattress dipped with the other man's weight.

"When the water didn't work, they found other ways…"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I've been running from it ever since I got back," Tony admitted weakly, hating the way the words felt on his tongue. They were true and that's what made them so sour. He had monuments built in honor of his bravery, art dedicated to his work as Iron Man, but he still couldn't shake a few months of being at the mercy of terrorists.

Steve's hand snuck across the distance between them and gently freed the sheet from Tony's fingers. When it was gone, he locked their hands together. Tony returned the gesture, squeezing the Captain's hand hard enough to hurt a normal man. He could feel himself drifting back into that cave, which didn't typically happen when he was awake. It only swallowed him in his sleep, and then chewed him into a sweating, trembling pulp before sending him screaming back into reality.

Tony focused on the engine choices on the wall and realized exactly which block would make a good base for his idea. He closed his eyes against it, not wanting to hide in his work like usual, "How long before Bucky stopped having nightmares?"

Steve stayed quiet long enough that Tony looked over at him. The Captain's sorrow was barely hidden, "He never did. The night before we deployed the last time, he had one so bad he woke up half the camp."

"That's not terribly comforting," Tony said dryly. "That can't make for very restful sleep for you. Why do you keep going for guys with PTSD? Though, I guess you knew him before he had problems, so really I'm the odd man out on this one." Once he noticed the Captain's arched eyebrow, Tony bit off his ramblings.

As if it was an answer, Steve said, "I've never met a man like you."

"Billionaire playboys? I assure you there are a few of us. Hugh Heffner really started it with his mansion full of-"

"Men who hide their best traits behind pomp and attitude like they're something to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed."

"Then why hide?"

"I'm not hiding. What makes you think I hide anyth-"

Steve slid closer and wrapped an arm around Tony's waist, pulling him flush against him, "I've seen the reels." Tony smirked to hear his words tossed back at him. "You act like a superior asshole in the public eye, while you're risking your life privately to save those who have no voice. You've done it with us too. You act like you don't care, but no one cares more than you do."

Tony didn't know what to say. The only other person who'd figured that out was Pepper, and she'd been working for him for years and years before she'd noticed. The Captain was more intuitive than Tony thought he was and it caught him completely off guard.

Before he could think up a good response, Steve leaned down and kissed the smooth metal casing of Tony's reactor. Tony's breath caught in his throat. Every inch of him tingled as though he'd been administered an electric shock. Steve tightened his grip and lifted Tony up so he could place another kiss in the center of the reactor without having to bend down.

Tony squeezed the Captain's shoulders, his fingers digging into the hard swells of muscle. He wanted to tell Steve that he couldn't feel any touch on the reactor, but somehow the action itself was making his blood pump hot and fast. He took in an involuntary gasp of air and adjusted his legs so they rested on either side of Steve's hips.

"This," Steve whispered against Tony's chest, "This made you what you are. It made you better."

"I know that, I accepted it years ago."

Steve's eyes seemed to absorb the light from the reactor, gleaming brilliantly as he looked up at Tony, "But you haven't accepted the event that made you. If you hadn't suffered at their hands, would you fight as hard for those who suffer now?"

"That doesn't make the nightmares any easier."

"No, I know," Steve admitted and placed his lips against the reactor one last time before lowering Tony to his knees.

Feeling a little foolish, Tony settled into Steve's lap. He left his arms draped over the taller man's shoulders, studying features that were too young for a man so old. "Alright, I want an honest answer to this: Are you just interested in me because I remind you of Bucky?"

Steve chuckled, but there was something sad about it, "You're nothing like Bucky, Stark."

Tony wasn't sure whether he should be offended or pleased, so what he stuck on was, "Stark was my father's name, call me that again and this night is going to be real short."

"Alright, alright," Steve conceded, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender. "Tony it is."

"Yeah, and considering you knew my father, calling us the same thing should weird you out a little." Something struck Tony like Thor's lightning. His eyes widened just before he burst into laughter at the idea.

"What?" Steve asked. When Tony didn't stop to explain, he repeated, "What?"

"My father," Tony took in a gasp of breath and tried to subdue his uproar. "My father was the biggest homophobe in the world, but he gave a gay guy the super soldier serum. Oh, the old man is rolling over in his grave."

The flush that spread on Steve's face was hard to see with just the light from the reactor, but he clearly wasn't as amused by the idea as Tony was. He gave Tony a perturbed glare.

"Come on, you've got to admit that's pretty ironic," Tony flashed him a devilish grin and sat up on his knees so he could press his mouth against the Captain's lips.

Fire spread through him from the point of contact. He'd forgotten how good another man's mouth tasted. Steve's hands jumped into motion. They slid up Tony's spine, pressing Tony against him even as the Captain carefully kneaded the muscle under his shoulder blades.

Taking in his breath hard through his nose, Tony tilted his head and opened his mouth at the questioning touch of Steve's tongue. He curled his fingers in the Captain's short hair and rolled his body against the hard perfection of the super soldier. The room was quiet enough that Tony could hear his facial hair scraping against Steve's smooth skin.

Briefly pulling away, Tony said, "Jarvis, music," and delved back into Steve's mouth.

Some AC/DC clicked on, a song called 'Spoilin' for a Fight'. Though it wasn't exactly the kind of mood music Tony had in mind, he wasn't planning on stopping his lip lock again. The wet slide of Steve's tongue over his was more important that what beat played in the background.

Steve caressed Tony's ass through the cloth of his pajama pants. His hand gravitated to the small of Tony's back just before he readjusted them on the bed. He lowered Tony so carefully that Tony grit his teeth. The Captain was trying to keep his strength in check, which Tony could appreciate, but he wasn't in the mood for gentle.

Tony bit Steve's lip and snarled, "I don't mind a few bruises, Cap. Stop treating me like a girl."

"I don't want to hurt-"

Tony ripped the Captain's shirt from collar to hem, and then fixed him with a feral smirk. It was like giving Steve permission. All of the gentility vanished, replaced by a man who was as desperately hungry for sex as Tony was. Their clothing fell to the floor in scraps, not a single item surviving their need.

Tony let out a soft, appreciative moan as he stripped away Steve's boxer-briefs. It didn't matter whether it was the serum that made the Captain so large, or if he was always ridiculously well endowed, because Tony was too wrapped up in how magnificent the man's cock was. It was long and thick, standing proud in the blonde nest of curls between Steve's legs.

Steve didn't give him a lot of time to admire it. He pushed Tony back into the mattress, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his throat and chest. Tony lifted his head to give Steve better access and watched with half-lidded eyes as the bigger man paused long enough to give the arc reactor another lingering kiss. The emotion Steve put into it made Tony shudder pleasantly.

Despite the over abundance of stimulation, Tony's mind was in high gear. There was another puzzle he was trying to solve: why the Captain was so affectionate towards him. Before he'd come wandering down the hall earlier in the evening, Steve and Tony had been civilized at best. On the battlefield, Tony looked to Captain America for his insightful tactics, but off the field, they argued and butted heads. Tony didn't really like to follow and Steve preferred to lead. If the Captain didn't have as much experience as he did, Tony wouldn't listen to him at all.

"How long have you been thinking about doing this?" Tony asked, his voice roughened by lust as Steve wrapped his oversized hand around Tony's erection.

Steve braced himself up on an elbow, drawing his hand slowly up Tony's fully erect cock. He didn't look away from his work when he asked, "What makes you think I've been planning this?"

A squeeze to the base and a thumb pressed firmly over the tip had Tony writhing on the sheets. He cursed loudly and canted his hips up into Steve's hand. Pleasure filled his head like foam, taking up all the space. It was almost a full minute before he could adjust to the sensation of Steve pumping him, and make real sentences again, "The way you, ughn- the reverence you give my reactor. You think about it a lot."

"Do I?"

"Don't be coy," Tony groaned, making Steve smile. It was bittersweet, like the one he gave when he was talking about his old lover. Tony furrowed his brow.

Steve set his slightly sticky hand on Tony's hip, leaving Tony's erection alone. Tony wanted to cuss and howl at the lack of release, but he still had some measure of control. As Steve crawled up Tony's body, his fingers lingered over the ragged scars pitting the skin next to the arc reactor. It was the only answer Tony needed. The Captain did spend a lot of time thinking about the reactor, and he knew exactly what it was designed for. It was in Tony's file, but it was buried so deeply under the comments about his narcissism and lack of team skills that he doubted anyone read that far.

Steve nudged Tony's legs apart and settled between them. Their bodies slid and ground against each other almost frantically, trying to get any kind of traction they could. Tony reached up into the headboard to steady himself. His gasps only seemed to spur the Captain on.

"Shit, Steve," Tony moaned and wrapped his arms in a vice around the taller man's neck, giving up on the headboard because it was coming loose from the wall. "There's lube in the nightstand. Get it."

The only light was coming from Tony's chest, so it took a few moments of fumbling for Steve to pull out a bottle of Ultraglide. AC/DC flipped to 'War Machine' and Tony decided he'd heard enough. Even as Steve was pouring lubricant across his fingers, Tony tilted his head towards the ceiling, "Jarvis, play something a little more romantic."

"Sir, that file has not been updated in several years, should I choose something I find appropriate?"

Tony let his head fall back into his pillow, mentally cycling though possible songs. He was leaning towards a little Aerosmith, but the Captain spoke up before he could decide, "Jarvis, could you play some Billie Holiday?"

"Of course, sir."

As the first few thin strains of 'If You Were Mine' started, Tony studied Steve with a smile. It was so old fashioned, so out of date that it was charming. Even with Jarvis's high-end surround speakers, the music sounded like it was coming from an old radio.

Steve noticed his grin and a flush of red crept across the man's neck, "I know it's not really your style, but give it a chance."

"I kind of like it," Tony admitted, sitting up so he could catch the Captain's mouth in a kiss.

As their tongues dueled and tangled to the soulful cry of muted trumpets, Steve got Tony positioned so he was kneeling over his hips. His lube slicked fingers trailed up the insides of Tony's thighs, leaving gleaming trails across the soft skin just behind Tony's balls. By the time Steve's hand got to its destination, Tony was trembling against him.

"If your music is going to make us go this slow, we're switching back to AC/DC," Tony grumbled against his mouth.

Steve got the not-so-subtle hint and spread Tony's legs wider with his free hand. Two fingers pushed knuckle deep into Tony's body, sweeping away his every thought. It had been longer than Tony realized since the last time he'd been penetrated, but the slight burn was not enough to make him stop. A deep, ragged groan ripped out of Tony's throat and filled Steve's mouth. The soldier growled in response, making Tony shudder.

Steve pushed him back into the mattress again, his large frame coming down over Tony to fill up his vision. Steve's hand never stilled. He slipped a third finger in with the other two, pumping hard enough to leave Tony breathless and senseless. Tony couldn't utter a single syllable that sounded remotely like a word. After a few guttural noises and a long, low moan, Tony quit trying to talk and just took in the sensations Steve was wringing from him.

He let his gaze roam over Steve's features, over his sharp nose and strong jaw line. Even without the doctors altering the rest of him, Steve had a very handsome face. The way concentration and lust played together made it even better. A bead of sweat rolled down the Captain's brow, but Tony reached up to wipe it away before it could reach the man's eyes.

As Steve slid his fingers free, Tony asked, "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

Steve sat back to scrape the lube bottle off the bed. With sweat giving his every muscle and line a silver-blue sheen, the Captain looked just as god-like as Thor, but without the swollen sense of entitlement. Tony wanted him so badly he ached.

"I didn't think I had anything to offer you," Steve admitted. It was honest, frank, and every ounce of it was the skinny kid from Brooklyn talking.

Tony watched as Steve spread a handful of lube over his perfect cock. He wrapped himself willingly around the man as Steve resettled between his thighs, "You're still not used to it, are you?"

"No," Steve breathed against Tony's lips.

Tony almost lost himself in the kiss, in the firm weight of the Captain on his smaller frame, in Steve's callused hands spreading his cheeks. Almost. Then he remembered, "Wait, wait, wait.

Steve pulled away just far enough to meet Tony's eyes, his expression puzzled.

"Did you get a condom out of the drawer?"

"What?" Steve's confusion faded into amusement, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not too worried about getting you pregnant."

Tony nearly slapped his own forehead. The Captain was on ice through the sexual revolution and the alarming spread of the associated diseases, he didn't have a clue. Tony had to be sure, "When's the last time you had sex?"

"Tony," Steve groaned, his face close enough that Tony could feel the heat of his blush. "Let's just-"

"Tell me." Worry was sneaking into Tony's guts. If the Captain had exposed himself to something without realizing it, they would want to start testing right away. There was no way to tell what diseases could take hold in his augmented system.

"The nineteen-forties."

Tony's eyebrows arched, "Oh." Tony hadn't been with anyone since the last time he got tested, but the Captain had been awake for over a year without taking a new partner. Instead of commenting on it, Tony said, "Well, we're probably okay then, but if you plan on fucking anybody but me, wear a rubber."

Steve lifted Tony's legs and let them rest in the bend of his elbows. The head of Steve's cock nudged against his entrance. Tony took in a stuttered breath and willed himself to relax. Steve pushed inside in one long, steady move, dragging an embarrassingly loud moan from Tony's kiss bruised mouth.

It was too much and not enough. He couldn't think straight. Tony clutched at Steve's shoulders like a lifeline, leaving angry, red welts across the pale skin. His nails didn't break the surface, but Tony was certain the Captain's skin was too thick for that.

Once he was as deep as he could get, Steve brushed his lips over the shell of Tony's ear, "You're the only plan I had."

There was something strangely satisfying about Steve's words. With his brain running at about fifteen percent capacity, Tony wasn't sure what exactly it was and he didn't dedicate much time to figuring it out. He enjoyed the rush it gave him and turned his head to catch the other man's mouth. His kiss was more teeth and tongue than anything, but Steve reciprocated eagerly.

"Hard," Tony managed to say.

Steve obliged. Each long stroke out was accompanied by a hard slam in. The rough thrusts had Tony's eyes rolling back in his head. Instinctually, he noticed they were sliding across the bed and he flattened his hands on the headboard to keep them in place. The muscles in his arms trembled from the effort of trying to keep up with Steve's strength.

"Oh god, Tony," Steve cried, one of his hands shooting out to join Tony's on the headboard.

His palm connected with the brushed metal with a bang and what remained of the bolts and screws holding it in place shattered. The headboard slammed into the wall, sending out a cloud of plaster dust. It might've been someone else's wall for all Tony cared, but the Captain's rhythm faltered as he took in the damage.

Tony adjusted to compensate, shoving down onto Steve's cock. "You're killing me, it's just a wall," Tony gasped. "Don't stop."

Steve wrapped a hand around Tony's hip and changed his position. Tony had to lift his legs higher on Steve's trim waist to make it work, locking his ankles behind the man's back. The next thrust in scraped across his prostate and set his nerve-endings ablaze. Ecstasy made Tony's back bow and an unrecognizable shout rip out of him.

The next thrust hit the same spot, and then the next, until Tony felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He threw his head back and the Captain's mouth immediately gravitated to his exposed throat. Teeth worried the tender skin over his raging pulse, marking him. Tony didn't care. He'd wear Steve's mark with pride.

"Close," Tony exhaled, not capable of much more. "St- Steve."

Steve seemed to understand him. He picked up his pace, slamming into Tony so quickly he was certain they were going to fuse. "Could keep going," Steve said.

Tony believed him, but he couldn't last any longer. It had been too many months since the last time he'd had someone in his bed. And it had been too many years since he'd been with someone who turned him on as much as the Captain did. "Can't. I'm too- I'm…" Tony couldn't get any words strung together, so he just hoped his need came through.

Steve only had to touch him once and it was the fourth of July behind Tony's eyelids. Pleasure rocketed to his toes and back, making him scream Steve's name loud enough to wake the entire tower. He was aware of Steve pushing into him twice more before the scalding heat of his release was pulsing into Tony.

Tony forced his eyes open so he could watch the unadulterated bliss take over Steve's face. It made Steve's body impossibly tense, his lips parting slowly with his low groan. After he was done, Steve carefully drew out of Tony and rolled off to the side.

For a moment, Tony stared at the dark ceiling while he tried to catch his breath. The subdued notes of Billie Holiday crept into his awareness, along with low, incomprehensible voices coming from the hall. Beside him, Steve tensed and sat up.

One voice broke above the others, not remotely concerned about being overheard, "I do not understand why we are huddling outside the door like ferhalm. They have coupled and should be congratulated."

Steve groaned and dropped his face into his palms.

A frantic, "Shut up, Thor," from Clint only made the others louder.

Natasha deadpanned, "You're right, why don't you go in and congratulate them?"

Tony didn't move. He was exposed in every sense of the word, legs still spread out, looking debauched in a way that only he knew how. Instead of worrying about it, he asked, "Jarvis, is my door locked?"

"It is now, sir, but my calculations suggest that it will not keep him out."

"Might want to get under the covers, Cap."

Just before the overzealous Asgardian burst into the room, Banner's level tone quieted the others. His voice was too low to understand through the walls, but whatever he said seemed to convince them to leave the new couple alone. All of the voices faded. Only when they'd been gone for a full minute did Steve lay down. He pulled Tony against his side, letting one hand come to rest on the arc reactor.

"We should probably get cleaned up or this stuff will be cement tomorrow," Tony advised.

Neither of them started for the bathroom, so Tony assumed it was a minor issue. He didn't want to get up and Steve seemed content to stay wrapped around him. Tony shoved his pillow out of the way so he could rest his head on Steve's arm. The Captain opened it across the bed to give him more room.

"You do realize we're going to get grilled over breakfast."

Tony smirked, "I can go down first, I'm pretty good at evading pointed questions about my sex life. You grab some bagels while I draw off their fire and we'll rendezvous up here."

"I thought I was the tactician," Steve joked with a smile that broke into a yawn.

"You've got to give me some room to grow." Tony was starting to drift off when he remembered the music, "Shut everything down, Jarvis."

Billie Holiday clicked off in the middle of a verse and the wireframe engines went black. It left them with only the light from Tony's chest. Steve cupped his hand over it, blocking a majority of the white-blue glare. There were no screams in the darkness, no one demanding weapons from him. When Tony finally slept, his dreams were filled with engines that needed work and a super soldier with warm hands and a disarming smile.


This was meant to be a one-shot, but ended up being set up for a story with plot. Gasp. Now you know how it started, if sex was what you came for, then you may or may not want to continue. There will be more sex, especially if Tony gets his way.