fossilised | Birthday fun

Birthday fun

It all started with a cake. Not enough stories these days did anymore, especially not in the lives of the Avengers. This wasn't just any cake either. It wasn't store-bought, picked up from the grocery with a hope that the teenager doing the lettering spelled a name correctly. It wasn't from a fancy bakery, though the person who had taken it upon himself to do the baking could have afforded something outlandish. No, this cake came from various boxes and cartons, the contents of which were painstakingly mixed together in more or less the way the recipe card was read off.

There may have been some corners cut, the eggs might not have been carefully folded (mostly because how do you fold eggs when they're goopy), the buttercream might be too runny, but the result was still fairly remarkable.

Even more remarkable was how intact it arrived, in a box in the back of an Audi, to all the usual fanfare Tony himself enjoyed when speeding through the security gates that those working at the Compound feverishly rushes to open for him. One scratch on that car would mean less of a Christmas bonus for everyone.

The cake was transported carefully from the back of the car towards one of the living quarters, a building shared by most of the non-retired Avengers. It did not need to be announced, so the man carrying it didn't bother to knock. Not at the front door and not at the recipient's bedroom. There was no need. No one would be awake anyway.

The time on his watch read 11:58 and so the cake was forced to wait a full two minutes until the day rolled over to be dramatically presented.

Tony Stark burst through the door and JARVIS started the Star-Spangled Banner on his cue, red and blue lights flashing. It was all beautifully patriotic, much like the cake itself, decorated to resemble Captain America's shield. "Happy Birthday, Grandpa!"

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Okay, so that sounded more like he actually intended to move in here with the rest of them, and that made Steve flash him a genuine smile. Though it faded only a second or two later as he took in the implications of that.

"Tony-- has something happened with you and Pepper?"

He could answer questions about the warehouses later, but right now he was concerned about his friend. Maybe this was why he had got so drunk, he always did seem to have self destructive tendencies when he was sad.

Steve was talking to him. It seemed important, Tony could see his lips form ‘Pepper’ and that just made his head blank. At least it still worked, though, and he could shake it slightly. It didn’t appreciate being jostled though. A little smirk curled at the edges of his lips, but there was nothing mirthful about it. The shine of his eyes behind the lenses were dim at best.

Maybe that was just the alcohol though?

When Steve got to his shirt, Tony made a sad little huff and then stopped to sit on a pile of beams or flooring or whatever it used to be.

His breath was becoming almost painful in his throat, but he liked it.

“Can we go inside? I’m not in the Polar Bear Club.”

Steve grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head, wriggling his shoulders a little to ease the sticky sensation of having put on a shirt over sweaty skin, and rolled his eyes as Tony complained a little more. Especially since he was doing it to keep from answering Steve's question.

"Yeah, we can go inside, but I'm still gonna want to hear about you and Pepper when we're in there."

He's worried, and not just about Tony. Maybe something had gone wrong with Extremis and now Pepper was gravely hurt, or ill, or-- all sorts of bad situations. Any one of which could have sent Tony here in the depths of drink.

“Can you let it go?” Tony knew the answer already. Steve didn’t let things go. His tenacity was literally legendary. He could almost feel, along his palms, the way that shirt might feel, slicking down against wet skin. Pepper’s confrontation, the way she had spelled it out to him, the accusations she leveled at him, had stripped Tony of his look-don’t-touch center of wellness.

There was no current center at all. It had been balled up and thrown in the trash along with his relationship.

Tony led the way inside, managing a more or less straight line through the snow to the main building. At least it was only partially destroyed, and the two back rooms had been closed off to await roof and wall repair. Tony moved right to the conference room and had JARVIS brew him some coffee as Steve followed. If he didn’t shut the door on his own, Tony would tell him to.

“Pepper and I broke up. That’s all. Nothing happened, really. I can’t stop being me. I put her in too much danger. She wants and deserves a lot better.”

It was hard to dismiss the guilty memory of how many times Steve had privately wondered why Pepper had put up with Tony for as long as she did. Because while he could be kind and selfless, he was far more often selfish and thoughtless and rude. She was a very intelligent woman who deserved to be treated well.

Still, it made his heart sink a bit, because he knew that Tony had really loved her, and had tried to do best for her in his own way. So he closed the distance between them and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

And he was. Genuinely.

"We're all here for you, but you can't drink yourself to death over it."

“I’m not drinking myself to death over it.” But he let the touch linger and that made him want to drink himself to death. The alcohol wasn’t helping. He had honestly not been sure that it would, but a guy can hope, right? The tingle in his belly just seemed worse than normal and eventually, Tony did slide out from under Steve’s well intentioned hand. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine. Or will be, once I get started.

But first, coffee. Thankfully Steve was called away not too long after by a traitorous redhead who supposedly was trained to keep her mouth shut and couldn’t.

It was a relief to be alone. For the moment.

Over the next few days, Tony was taken to staring at Steve whenever they were together. He made comments like always, but they were sharp and often directed at himself, muttered and maybe a little more broody than Tony usually let himself be around other people.

Watching Steve paint, watching him put up dry wall, watching him eat— Tony knew obsession when he was experiencing it and this was absolutely obsession. He had to get it out of his system.

The Compound was quiet when a very sober Tony Stark knocked on Steve’s door. He could hear music playing, but he didn’t worry about interrupting anything. This had to end.

Steve was beginning to get annoyed with Natasha whenever they sparred or worked together now; oh, he was fond of her in the way that he loved all of his close friends, but that didn't stop it being incredibly frustrating to be on the end of those knowing half smiles. Like she was privy to a secret that concerned him, and if he'd just stop being blind then he'd know what she meant.

It had him retreating more and more to himself over the next few days. He spent hours rebuilding and painting the sections of the compound that needed it, and then holed up in his room sketching. He doesn't do as much drawing as he used to back before the war, but there seems to be less for him to draw now. Less that speaks to him personally, rather than the mission as Captain America.

Polite as always, he turned off the music before he answered the door, and gave Tony a welcoming smile as he stepped to one side.

"Oh-- hey, I wasn't expecting company, but won't you come in? I think I have some coffee somewhere that I can make."

“No coffee for me.” But leave it to Steve to always be a good host. Tony only appeared to be, but he usually had people doing it for him. Hands in the pockets of black jeans, the three piece suit replaced with a black graphic t-shirt, Tony brushed an inch from Steve’s chest with his elbow and took a good look at a room he hadn’t been in since Steve’s birthday.

He didn’t know what he was even looking for, honestly. It wasn’t like answers would appear in mid-air.

There was a casual tension in his shoulders as he turned, his easy smile painted on. “Can we talk? Actually, can I handcuff you to a chair and drop your shield in one of the retention ponds first before we talk? It’ll be safer, physically, for me.”

"Uh, sure."

Tony didn't often look this serious, he generally tended to couch serious discussions amongst inappropriate jokes and the kind of flippant tone that said he didn't care about the outcome. It was all baloney, of course, Steve knew that Tony cared a lot more than he said he did.

But this? The absolute seriousness and almost nerves, despite the smile that was so fake even Steve could see through it, it was unnerving.

"You can talk to me about anything, Tony. Have seat, take your time."

Tony didn’t have a lot of time. He was frustrated by that, and angry too, at himself more than at Steve. He had been through a great deal, tried his best to see that the outcome would be good for those around him, and ended up losing.

Pepper asked him to get rid of the reactor. He didn’t need it, she said. Helen Cho worked miracles for her and had been messing around with the idea of creating a device to rapidly stimulate cell growth. All Tony needed to do was contact her. They could collaborate—

And that had spiraled then down to Pepper finally asking Tony, point blank, if he was in love with Steve Rogers or if it was just lust. How they got from medical technology to Steve was a journey he couldn’t replicate if he tried.

Tell this to Steve wouldn’t be quite so circuitous, however. Tony didn’t need to take a seat. He didn’t need to take his time.

“I have a massive problem with you,” Tony said, glum but intense. “And everyone knows about it too. You probably do too but you’re that stand up guy that would never say a word to me.”

It wasn’t fair, the hostility, but Tony worked better under his own imposed duress.

“I’m in love with you. I’m not blaming you for that. It’s my own fault.”

Oh.

Oh.

For a wild moment, Steve thinks that Tony is making another inappropriate joke, or even a reference to something that he hasn't seen yet. But it's obvious that he's not. The look on his face is that of a man awaiting the executioner to swing the axe, like he thinks that Steve is going to vilify him for an emotion that he can't help feeling. And that makes him a little mad.

He's never ever held what someone feels against them, not unless it actively hurts someone else, and he wouldn't do it in this regard. Though he does have to admit that the confession is a total shock to him and he has no idea how he feels about it in return, because he's not been looking.

"Is-- is that what happened between you and Pepper?"

The question is quietly neutral, just to give him some breathing room to try and process this before he needs to give an answer.

“Probably. Mostly. Also my ego and my work ethic and my inability to remember her birthday and make you a home made cake so wait. Yeah. That last one is still you. Ah shit. I’m such a shit.” Only drunk Tony would say that about himself and he decided to take Steve up on the initial sit offer, sighing softly as he did so. His head hurt, but not in the pleasant way that signaled new ideas and work to keep his hands and brain busy.

He slumped into Steve’s couch as if he had been poured onto the cushions, knees apart and t-shirt scrunched up over his belt buckle. He looked older, lines more defined. He looked guilty, awaiting a sentence.

“Romanoff and Barton warned me. Told me. She’s right. I need to start listening to people,” he grumbled, the she being Pepper but it could easily apply to Natasha too.

Does he like Tony too?

Honestly, he has no idea. He just has never thought about him that way, and he never thought that he'd be in this situation with someone that he actually cared about telling him that they were in love with him. He's dealt with it from fans, an infatuation with Captain America rather than Steve Rogers, and that's always been easy to deflect. This... not so much. He doesn't even know if he wants to deflect.

"Thanks... for telling me, that was really brave."

He means that. Even if the times have changed now to be more accepting of different lifestyles, it was still a terrifying thing to put feelings out there for someone else to see and judge.

"I don't know what I feel. But maybe, if it's not too difficult, I could take you out to dinner sometime and start figuring out if I could feel the same way?"

“You’re messing with me.”

Tony dropped the hand from his face long enough to look up at Steve. The blond looked idyllic, like he was a part of the scenery that really should always be wherever Tony looked and he couldn’t help but be annoyed by feeling that way. No one should have that sort of power over anyone. Steve had no idea how crushing this all was. He just played up the nice guy role he’d always had and decided to…what?

Pity him?

How far had he sunken that he needed Steve to take him out on a pity date? The guy just called him brave for it. Tony had never felt more dumb than he did right now. Not even when he blew himself up or accidentally exploded his workshop.

"What?"

Steve's forehead crinkled in confusion and then slight anger. He always meant everything he said, he would never lie about something as important as someone else's feelings, and he wouldn't use them to make a joke. Not ever. And he didn't do pity. He knew what it was like to be pitied, he spent most of his life being the subject of pity, and he hated it with a fiery passion.

"...is that you saying no? Because I've gotta say, Tony, that's giving me mixed signals."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"I'm asking you out because I can't say what I think you want me to say, I don't know how I feel, I've never looked at you that way. But maybe I can figure out what I do feel if we go on a few dates."

Dropping a few fingers so he can look at Steve between them, Tony arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect you to say anything,” he muttered. “I thought you were going to drop kick me to the moon.” That was a little dramatic, even for him. He sighed, flamboyant flip of his wrist trying to play Steve off. “I don’t— I don’t want to date you. Not once. Not a couple of times. I just wanted you to stop being so easy to look at and be around.”

It made sense to an engineer with a mind addled full of uncomfortable conversation talking points and alcohol.

“I liked our under cover hostility. And your abs. And those boots.”

"You expected me to be mad because-- why? Because you're another fella and I'm from a time when that was illegal, or because you're my teammate and it might mess with the dynamics of the group when we're in a battle situation?"

Because he couldn't think of any other reasons that Tony might think he'd be mad, and even those two are kind of insulting. Does he give off the impression that his methods for everything, not just bullies, is punch first and ask questions later?

"Well, here's news for you, Tony. You'd not be the first fella I'd stepped out with, and you wouldn't be the first teammate I'd liked either. I can't change what I look like or be someone else, so if you don't want anything from me then why did you even tell me about this?"

Tony didn’t look like someone anyone should date. He had melted into the couch and lost his neck in the process, slumped there and barely keeping his eyes open. He could process what Steve was saying, though, could process that Steve had no objection to men, sure, but the question was what lingered in Tony’s mind.

Why had he told him?

He had gone on for the better part of the year not telling him anything. He’d gone on the better part of a year before that barely even registering it.

“I told you because not telling you was starting to scratch too deep. Not telling you isn’t an option anymore. And I had to tell someone.”

A part of Steve could understand the burden of keeping something inside, but not that it had to bubble out to the person involved. If Tony needed to talk, but he didn't actually want anything to change between them, then why not talk to one of the others? Vent his feelings until they disappeared, if that's what he was waiting for.

"Okay, so now I know."

He still kept his voice level, because even if he was kind of frustrated with how Tony was choosing to go about this, he wasn't going to be angry at someone for what they couldn't help feeling.

"But if all you wanted to do is tell me, then I'm not really sure where to go from here."

Selfish prick. Steve could say it. Tony had the name tossed at him time and time again. He believed it too, embraced it. Lived by it.

“Now you know. And going out on another date won’t tell you anything you don’t already know about me,” Tony pointed out.

That might not be exactly true though. Taking Steve out for his birthday have Tony insight into his enjoyment of jazz and pizza. And also that Steve didn’t want to be an ambassador for gay people.

“You already made it clear you’re not interested. Or you wouldn’t have gotten mad at me that night. So we don’t have to go anywhere. Stick to our corners. That’s served us well since we met.”

"Of course I wasn't interested," Steve said, folding his arms as if Tony were being a giant idiot. Honestly, sometimes he had real trouble remembering that Tony was supposedly a genius, because he could act like a real moron. "You were attached, you never gave me any indication that you liked me at all, even as a friend, and the last meaningful conversation we had before that night was that you hated me for what I represented to your dad."

So why would he ever have looked at Tony in that way?

"But, I guess there's a part of me that might become interested, or I wouldn't have suggested trying a few dates. I guess we won't know, though, since you just came to tell me and nothing else. It's no problem, so long as we're on the same page."

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled himself out from the seat he’d commandeered. It took three tries, but he wasn’t going to stick around to let Steve use some of the same childish tactics he himself might have been known to use. Not tonight.

“What part of you? Your dick?”

Probably uncalled for, but Tony had no intention of staying. The way Steve was taking his confession couldn’t have been more different than he had expected it to be but the result was pretty much the same. Tony knew going in that he was going to get pissed off.

That was how their relationship worked.

“Don’t answer that. I’m going back to the garage.” Maybe he wouldn’t remember all of this when he woke up later.

Tony made him so angry, it was like he was deliberately trying to be an asshole, and it made Steve so frustrated that he wanted to put a fist through his wall. It sincerely pissed him off that someone could be so selfish as to dump that sort of revelation on someone and then accuse that same someone of only thinking lustful thoughts, like Steve was the one in the wrong here for maybe wanting to try and see how some dates went.

Well fine.

If Tony didn't want to date him, that was okay, he wasn't going to force the issue. And if Tony wanted to apparently use this as just another thing to blame Steve for, then he was tired of it. He didn't exist just to be someone else's punching bag, and Tony had given him almost no reasons to want to keep giving him chances.

So he'd let him stalk back to the garage and spend the rest of the night sleeplessly staring up at his ceiling. He was done with this, done with being treated like he was the devil no matter what he did.

It was like Tony fed off of Steve’s anger, like fighting with him was some sort of one sided aphrodisiac. It riled him up, leaving him flushed. Steve’s lack of direct response was not what Tony wanted and just stalking away to sulk had been pretense for a prolonged confrontation.

But Rogers wasn’t giving in, like he was playing some sick game of hard to get. Only Tony Stark would even see it as that. It was any wonder Pepper found anything redeemable about him to stay for so long, right?

When Steve did nothing save perhaps to follow him so he could shut the door behind him, Tony turned and, because he was more drunk than he had Reason to be, half stumbled into the wall, or Steve, trying to get his hands in the blond’s t-shirt. He had always been dumb when drunk.

Tony's fingers closed in Steve's shirt, but only for half a second before he was being held out at arm's length with one strong hand on each shoulder. He was careful not to actually grip tight enough to hurt, but without the armour there was no way that Tony was strong enough to resist Steve.

"No, Tony."

His voice sounded tired, he looked tired.

"I'm not your punching bag, and I'm tired of being yelled at for anything that you decide is my fault. You said that we were friends now, and apparently you have feelings for me, so maybe learn to treat me with a modicum of human respect, because I sure as heck wouldn't treat anyone I cared about even a little bit this way."

He stepped back and let go.

"I think you should go and sober up, and if you think it over and want to talk to me then my door's open, otherwise I'll see you in the training room."

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