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"He and I have a common interest, I suppose." Tony sounded amused.
"If you have a common interest, what do you think he's after?"
"Revenge, sounds like." Tony shrugged, not seeming very invested in the topic of conversation. "Who knows?"
"You're not even curious?" Steve frowned. "Are you feeling well?"
"Shut up." Tony grinned. "I just don't think it matters so much anymore, that's all."
"What do you mean, anymore?"
"Well, seems to me like he's going out of the supervillain business, don't you think?"
"What?"
Steve had spent half an hour convincing Nick it wasn't a joke, that Iron Man had really said he was leaving the supervillain business, and here Tony had come to the conclusion all on his own.
"The increased attacks, the sudden focus on StarkIndustries, the forcing Stane to step down…it's all got an air of finality to it, doesn't it?" Tony pointed out. "You ask me, it seems like he's cleaning house, finishing up his affairs."
"I suppose so." Steve head still reeled at the prospect of it. He knew he should be upset about the lack of justice served, but to be perfectly honest, he just felt cheated. Now he'd never learn Iron Man's identity, or the purpose of his vendetta.
"Maybe all he needed was a good reason." Tony gave him a long look Steve couldn't begin to interpret. "Maybe he wants to try and be a better person."
"He's a supervillain, why would he care about being a better person?"
He knew he was being a little bitter about it, and that Tony of all people didn't deserve to be snapped at, but all he could think of were the times he'd all but begged Iron Man to reconsider, to change sides, to think things through. All the times Iron Man had blown him off.
"You don't think he could change?" Tony's voice was oddly quiet, but Steve was too distracted by his thoughts to notice. "If the right person came along?"
"Because all it takes is a pretty face, right?" Steve said bitterly. "Captain America's been trying to convince him to do the right thing since all this started, but some pretty dame walks by and that's it, game over, that's all it takes?"
"I don't know about a pretty dame, but…maybe someone came along. Someone good. Someone good and genuine and everything he wasn't, and he wanted to be better. For them, but for himself, too. For everyone. What if he just…" Tony looked down at his hands. "If he wanted to try to be the person they thought he was?"
"Then he's fooling himself." Steve snapped, and regretted it almost instantly.
"Maybe." Tony shrugged, but it was stiff, forced.
Steve still felt indignant and frustrated about Iron Man quitting, but he knew he was taking it out on Tony and that wasn't fair.
"Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I just…" Tony cut him off with a frustrated noise, and an aborted hand motion. "I don't think you're being entirely fair."
"He's a supervillain, Tony, it's not as if—"
"People do bad things." Tony said quietly. "It doesn't make them bad people. Right?"
Steve was momentarily stunned silent. Tony just waited for his answer with uncharacteristic patience.
"Tony, I…you're not…" Steve reached between them impulsively to take Tony's hand. "I know you, Tony. Just because I think Iron Man's got a screw loose doesn't in any way translate to how I feel about you."
"How you feel about me?"
"I…" Steve's mouth suddenly felt very dry. Backed yourself into a corner with that one, Rogers. Nice. "I feel that you're a very good person who doesn't give yourself nearly enough credit."
"Do you." It wasn't a question, but Steve answered anyway.
"Of course."
Tony's lips quirked to the side at that, just the littlest bit. It was barely even a half-smile, but the sincerity of it stole Steve's breath away all the same. He felt himself lean forward, not to try anything, but purely because something about Tony drew him in like gravity. He knew one of these days he was going to fall too far, was going to fall into Tony completely, and he knew that if he did he'd never be able to pick himself back up again.
He ached to do it all the same.
The ache was a familiar one these days. Usually he managed to hold it close to his chest, but every once in a while, it threatened to break free like a bird from a cage and fly out towards the sun. He wondered often if he would be happier to let himself fall and be burned than keep himself in check all the time.
He could do it now, if he let himself.
Tony was close, impossibly close, and it would take no effort at all to close the space between them. He could take Tony's face in his hands right then, could kiss him until they both couldn't breathe. He could lose hours kissing him, could lose days, weeks, years and Steve wouldn't mind. He'd give Tony all the time he wanted and more, all the time he could possibly spare, because Steve had never wanted anything in his life more than he wanted Tony.
He wanted to lean forward that extra inch and wrap Tony up in his arms, wanted to kiss him without warning. Tony wasn't surprised enough, he thought, and Steve wanted to surprise him, wanted to see the flicker of his expressions as he went from surprise to disbelief to bliss as Steve kissed him again, and kept kissing him long after anything resembling a doubt was gone without a trace.
He wanted to kiss Tony when he was smiling, when he was scowling, when he was plotting a new experiment with that manic, twitchy little smile that just begged to be kissed. He wanted good morning kisses and goodbye kisses and celebratory kisses and just-because-I-can kisses and everything in between. There were a million moments in any given day Steve wanted to kiss Tony, and they flickered through his mind then like a movie still in the making.
Tony's phone went off.
Tony glared at it like it had insulted his mother. Steve felt rather inclined to do the same.
"I have to answer this," Tony grumbled, "Remember the contractor I told you about? It's them. They're military, and very…demanding."
"Go ahead, it's fine." Steve waved him on.
While Tony went into the other room to answer his phone, Steve pulled his own out. He was surprised to find his battery had died, but it did explain why SHIELD would call Tony in the middle of the night and not him. Though, Tony was a tech consultant, what could they possibly want him for? Steve plugged his phone into Tony's charger, and while he was waiting for it to turn on again, Tony finished his call and raced through the living room.
"I've got a, uh, thing." He scrambled for his shoes, grabbing a jacket and his keys as he hopped on one foot. "I technically said they could call me anytime Tuesdays or Thursdays, and it turns out they're holding me to it. Sorry, feel free to stay, obviously, I just won't be back for a while."
"Alright." Steve watched in bewilderment as Tony disappeared out the door in a blur. That didn't seem like the kind of exit consulting work would warrant. What on earth had Nick asked of him?
Finally, his phone came back on, and Steve flicked through his missed calls; four from Nick in the past half hour. He didn't bother listening to the messages, just hit redial. Nick answered immediately.
"You're officially on duty as of a half hour ago. We're sending a quinjet to your location."
"A quinjet? Is that necessary?"
"Short answer is yes. We'll brief you on the details once we've got you on board, right now I don't have the time. Get on the roof, and for fuck's sake, keep your phone on you."
"Yes, sir."
Steve disconnected, grabbed his stuff and Tony's charger—Tony had made it very clear Steve was welcome to his things, and though Steve tried not to take advantage of that, it was apparently an emergency—and headed out the door. He wondered briefly if Tony would be getting on the same quinjet; talk about an awkward reveal.
