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It wasn’t this awkward before. But then again, Steve thinks, they hadn’t really carved out time to just be with each other before – it was always quick glances across their teammates’ heads and sneaking into each other’s rooms after dinner. And on the rare occasion that they were fully clothed and alone together, they were often too busy shouting, too wound up by tension and all these repressed feelings to even think about anything else.
And now they’re here, sitting opposite each other in a sushi restaurant, music tinkling quietly in the background as they stare at their plates.
Tony looks nice today. It’s nothing Steve hasn’t seen before, of course – Tony in a well-pressed suit is a familiar sight at galas, talks, SHIELD HQ.
But today, Tony’s dressed specifically for Steve, and he’s allowed to look. He’s allowed to let his eyes graze over the sheer splendour of Tony Stark – take in his goatee, neatly trimmed for tonight; his gorgeous long lashes, framing warm honey eyes that gleam in the dim light; the slight hint of his collarbone, artfully hidden by the open top button of his shirt.
Tony, who’s tapping the edge of his chopstick against his empty plate. The serving plate in front of them is empty, waiting to be replaced by a second round of sushi that’s still in the kitchen.
“So,” Tony tests out. “What do you do for fun?”
Steve stares at him for a long moment. Then he snorts.
Tony looks mildly offended. “What?” he says defensively, “I’ve never really done this, okay,” and it makes Steve laugh harder.
“I haven’t really done much of this,” Steve gestures at his plate, the two of them, this hidden corner of the restaurant Tony’s booked out for them, “either, but surely we’ve gone past pleasantries.” He tries to catch his breath.
“Life was so much easier when we were just fucking,” Tony complains, but he’s got a warm glint in his eyes that says the opposite. “No small talk, no awkward dating stage. Just amazing sex.”
“What a shame,” Steve says dryly. “However will you cope.”
“I’ll probably have to think of something inappropriate to keep myself entertained,” Tony agrees. “Something completely out-of-this-world, like Coulson in a tutu and having tea with Margaret Thatcher.”
It’s such a jarring mental image that Steve has to pause for a moment and shake it away. “Or you could just talk to me like you normally do,” he offers.
“But,” Tony slides his hands across the table to take Steve’s, “we’re on a date.”
He has a small smile on his face that makes Steve’s stomach want to flip over. He settles for squeezing Tony’s hands in his. “Yeah,” he says a little giddily, “we are.”
And now they’re smiling stupidly at each other, neither looking away until there’s the sound of a throat clearing. They both look up to see the waiter holding a tray above their heads.
“Your egg fried rice and crab maki, sirs,” he says mildly.
At once, they hastily let go and tuck their hands under their laps. “Yeah, just here, thanks,” Tony says to the waiter, a little gruffly. Steve finds it adorable.
Once the waiter sets the food down and walks away, Tony leans forward. “Hey, Steve?”
Steve looks up from the roll he’s balancing between his chopsticks. “Hmm?”
Tony deliberately gives him a once over, brown eyes trailing appreciatively over the slightly-too-tight shirt he’d worn specifically for this occasion. It makes Steve flush all over.
“You look delicious,” Tony murmurs. “Just delectable.” He pauses, then adds slyly, “I could cook an egg on you.”
Steve bursts out laughing.
It turns out that putting a name to this heady, unspoken thing between them is… kind of nice.
Steve’s allowed to just reach out and touch Tony whenever he wants now, for starters. He can squeeze his hand whenever Tony’s passing by, wrap his arms around his hips when they’re preparing breakfast, lean into his warmth during team movie nights.
He can also kiss Tony whenever he wants. Before, they’d have to sneak away at opportune moments, which would usually end up in a heated make-out session. But now, he can peck Tony’s cheek just because he wants to, and watch as Tony’s lips curl upwards as a result. Steve didn’t think he’d enjoy such innocent kisses as much as he does, but he now takes every opportunity to do so.
There’s also so much time they spend together now. As amusingly awkward their first date had been, Steve’s pleasantly surprised to find that after all of their tension and anger and repressed emotions are stripped away, they do genuinely like each other. It’s resulted in more enthusiastic sex – of course it has – but more than that, Steve enjoys just being with Tony, asking him about his day, listening to him talk.
Like now, sitting together on the couch at the end of another eventful day, patching each other up after a fight. Tony has a cut on his cheek, a result of being punched too hard in the armour, and he’s just babbling as Steve dabs softly at it with a cotton ball.
And Steve’s just looking at the sheer brilliance of him – his too-bright eyes, his wild, sweat-soaked hair, the slight smudge of dirt on his cheek. He’s beautiful, Steve thinks, and he’s all mine.
“Hey,” Steve says, cutting him off mid-ramble about the reverse polarity of something-something the armour, he doesn’t know. “Shut up.”
Tony looks at him, offended. “Steven, for shame. I’m literally talking to you about how my repulsor tech can be used to end world hunger, how dare you –”
Steve leans in and kisses him square on the mouth.
“You’re such a little shit,” Tony mumbles against his mouth. “But nobody believes me when I tell them that Captain America’s actually secretly an asshole –”
Steve pulls back. “Shut up,” he repeats, and kisses him again.
Tony will deny this later, but he’s smiling as he pulls Steve in and kisses right back.
The rest of the world slowly starts to accept that Captain America and Iron Man, two of the world’s strongest superheroes, two of TIME’s 100 Most Influential People, are dating. Not only that, but that they’re head-over-heels in love with each other, no matter how private they are about it.
Most times, keeping out of the public eye is an easy feat. Outside of the tower, Steve and Tony don’t really tend to bump into each other, what with Tony handling SI matters and Steve busy with SHIELD and the team. More often than not, Tony will fly out to give a talk to some college or across the world to Japan or Singapore for a business meeting. Steve’s quite happy for him to go; he likes his space.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, he’s on Tony’s arm for a Stark Industries gala, and the camera flashes would have blinded him if he were still the small, sickly man he’d been before the serum. It’s quite obvious that Tony’s showing him off, bringing him in flush against him at every photo opportunity, but tonight, Steve doesn’t mind. Tonight, he’s even strangely pleased by the attention they’re getting.
Later, after the red carpet and small food portions and lazy dancing, Steve will bring up the videos that are circulating on Twitter. He’ll look at one that shows the two of them being interviewed by a reporter, at how, while he’s talking about how honoured they are to be here and the incredible work SI is doing to solve the world hunger crisis, Tony lifts his hand up and idly brushes a kiss against his skin.
He'll think about how small a moment it was, how he didn’t even register it happening at the time. About how such a small, simple gesture has solidified how Tony feels about him to the world.
But right now, he’s comfortable right where he is, one arm around Tony as they pose together for the cameras.
They’re fighting against another set of aliens this time, the whole team spread out along Washington Square park. Tony’s up in the air while Steve throws his shield over to Natasha, who catches it and slams it against an unsuspecting alien in a smooth motion.
As per usual, chatter over comms is… fairly questionable, given their circumstances. Today, they’re discussing the merits of Thor’s hair.
“But it must be a bitch to manage,” Clint is pointing out from the top of some roof. Steve sees one alien explode mid-flight, a result of one of his arrows. “All the conditioner he’s got to buy. Must be expensive.”
“Not like he can’t afford it,” Sam retorts. He’s just a block away, handling evac.
Bucky, who’s with him, joins in the conversation. “It’s not that bad,” he says mildly over the radio. “Gets annoying when you’re falling out of a building and have hair all over your face, though.”
“Exactly!” Clint exclaims. Unfortunately, Thor is off-world and unable to come to his own defence.
Natasha, who usually tends to block out the mindless chatter, says, “That’s only because you don’t own a hair tie.”
Steve, who’s fighting right beside her, groans at her. “Really?” he says to her, even if his comm piece still picks it up. Usually, he can count on Natasha not to enable the others. “You’re getting in on this? What happened to solidarity?”
Nat shrugs, taking out another alien with a swift kick that leaves her completely unfazed. “I’m bored.”
There are multiple snorts of laughter over their channel. Steve sighs and moves towards the next alien that’s coming towards them, determined to get this battle done and over with.
“Aww, Cap,” he hears, and that’s Tony’s voice over comms, slightly breathless but undoubtedly teasing. “You’re just jealous. Thor’s hair deserves its own place in a museum. His man-bun is a fucking work of art.”
“I thought you liked my hair,” Steve grumbles, even as he takes another alien out.
Tony makes an, “Eh,” sound over comms, but Steve can hear the grin in his voice. Sure enough, he says a moment later, “You know I love you, babe.”
And he’s heard it all before, passed the whole emotional-confessions-of-love stage, but Steve still feels like his heart is about to burst from the sheer simplicity of it all.
“Anyway,” Clint draws out over the channel, “moving on. Anyone else think Strange’s a Grade A asshole, or is that just me?”
And now they’re in Tony’s workshop, and there’s tools and all sorts of dangerous parts strewn everywhere, and the music is so loud that it’s almost deafening. But Tony’s in his arms and they’re dancing, and Steve is having too much fun to care.
“What’s this for?” Steve has to shout, but he’s grinning. He’d been sat on the couch in the corner sketching, but this is much more enjoyable.
Tony just grins and spreads his arms. He’s holding Steve’s hands, and so Steve’s arms open wide by default, too. “Why the fuck not?” he shouts right back.
DUM-E is haphazardly zooming around the space in a panic, brandishing his fire extinguisher and trying to bring order to the chaos. It’s a futile effort, of course; Tony is a whirlwind of chaos, will always be this way for as long as he lives. Steve’s given up trying to get him to step in line.
But that’s what makes Tony Tony: the grand unpredictability of his actions. He’s the exact opposite of Steve in every way, and when Steve thinks about it, it was inevitable that they’d clash in the beginning, before getting to know their creases and their ends. Steve had hated this, before, but now he can’t imagine being without it.
How monotonous life would be, he thinks. How very dull, without Tony by his side.
“Hey,” Tony shouts, though not as loudly now that the music’s turned down a little. Steve shakes himself back to the moment, looks down at Tony looking up at him. “Tell me what’s going on in that gorgeous mind.”
Steve can’t help it; he has to lean down and steal a kiss. He pulls back, breathless, and simply says: “Thinking ‘bout you.”
The effect is immediate. Tony grins, a dopey little thing. “Sap,” he says, even as his cheeks are painted with the faintest flush.
Steve grins right back, and is about to open his mouth to say something incredibly cheesy right back, but Tony just says, “Nope, don’t you dare. JARVIS! Volume up, don’t let him say a word!”
“Tony,” Steve laughs, even as he pulls Tony closer.
“No more,” Tony says, “you’re giving me diabetes, Rogers, that’s enough for a day.”
But his smile is radiant, his eyes bright, and Steve loves this man so much that it hurts.
And Steve thinks, just maybe, he might want this for the rest of his life, Tony pulling him into impromptu little dances in the middle of a workshop binge, Tony grinning at him in that playful, devastatingly handsome way, the two of them here, together, laughing.