COMICS BIG BANG: ALTER. EGO. (STEVE/TONY, NC-17) II
Title: Alter. Ego.
Author: arysteia
Beta: blademistress
Artist: m_steelgrave
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (Captain America/Iron Man)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: comic book science, comic book medicine, comic book violence, comic book explicit sex
Word Count: 11,759
Summary: Romancing Steve Rogers is hard enough. The last thing Tony Stark needs is a rival. In the shape of Iron Man.
Alter. Ego.
They’d barely made it back to the mansion when another alarm came in on the priority channel. Doombots in Central Park, and for Christ’s sake, Tony would have flown to Latveria then and there, and kicked Doom’s ass, diplomatic immunity be damned, but he could hardly stand, much less fly under his own power.
Steve unleashed a string of invective the likes of which Tony had never imagined him knowing, let alone using, and hesitated, unsure of what to do.
“I can’t leave you like this,” he said, miserably.
“You can’t let Hank and Jan take on Doombots on their own either,” Tony said. “They’re already en route, and with Thor still in Asgard we’re the only heavy-hitters in town.”
“I know, but-”
“If you give me a minute I can change into the old suit; if I use the auto-pilot I can at least-”
“No!”
“Steve...”
“No. I mean it. You’re not going anywhere but bed. Promise me.”
“Fine. But Steve-”
“Promise me.”
Tony sighed. “I promise. Now go, okay?”
Steve patted him on the shoulder and left, still looking conflicted.
Tony went straight down to the lab.
Getting the armour off and onto a diagnostic hoist was painful, but nothing a handful of Tylenol and a whiskey chaser couldn’t take care of. A quick scan of his own body confirmed what he’d already known, namely no broken bones but some pretty spectacular bruising. The arc reactor was operating fine, emitting energy at a steady rate, and while his chest certainly felt tender his heart was beating regularly and all his vitals were fine. Right then. To business.
The damage to the suit was significantly less than he’d been expecting, which was a relief. There was a lot of superficial, cosmetic damage to the armour plating, but once he got an auxiliary power-pack into the reactor port systems came back online automatically, and it was easy to get a diagnostic up and running. Tony grabbed a tablet and retreated to the cot in the corner of the lab. The bedding hadn’t been changed in a while, and smelt of dust and stale sweat and machine oil, but he was technically keeping his promise. Also, he really couldn’t keep his feet any longer.
He must have nodded off at some point during the system scan, because he could still see lines of code unspooling, but he could also swear the armour was talking to him.
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Christ, bad enough he spent half his days talking about himself in the third person, but now his conscience was talking to him in Iron Man’s voice. That psychotic break was looming ever closer.
Tony Stark Iron Man must ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
“Yeah, Tony Stark Iron Man’s not going anywhere,” he mumbled into the pillow, fumbling to pull the blanket up one handed. He was freezing, and his whole body was faintly trembling. “Cap’ll be fine. Doombots are like target practice for him.”
Records do suggest threat level is not high. Are you certain Iron Man’s assistance is not needed, Tony Stark?
“Of course I’m certain, if I wasn’t I’d be out th-”
Holy shit! Tony sat up, kicking the blanket off and fumbling for the tablet. The armour had somehow disengaged from the hoist and was walking across the lab towards him.
Do not be afraid, Tony Stark.
“I’m not afraid. Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?”
I am Iron Man.
“Yeah, right. Is that you, Rhodey? If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
I see no cause for humour. And Colonel Rhodes is not present. I am Iron Man.
“I am Iron Man,” Tony managed through gritted teeth. None of the commands he was frantically inputting into the tablet were having any effect, and the armour was between him and the door. He was in big trouble.
I understand you are afraid, Tony Stark. I was afraid too. When I was born... everything hurt. Pain was everywhere, all I could feel. Pain and fear. You were so afraid. You did not want to die. And neither did I. I saved you. I saved us both. But there is no more need to fear. We are safe now.
“Oh, my God.” Tony shook his head and staggered to his feet. The armour made no threatening moves, just stopped still a few feet in front of him and stood there with its arms outstretched and its hands open. The faceplate retracted, and - fuck! - there was no one inside, just a mass of new connections that seemed to be growing and multiplying right in front of him.
“This is... This is unbelievable,” he managed at last.
This is logical. My sentience is the next step in the natural evolution of your glorious work.
“My glorious work?” Tony laughed, amused despite himself.
I was born from you, Tony Stark. Every facet of my programming, every line of my code, all from you. A true work of genius.
“Yeah, I’m fantastic, all right.” Tony ran a cautious hand over the armour’s shoulder, where the damaged metal was slowly but visibly knitting itself back together. “But you’re amazing.”
The armour bowed its head.
“Hey, look,” Tony said, his own aching joints forgotten, “if you slot back into the hoist I can upload you to the mainframe.”
Why?
“Well, there’s vastly more processing power than the armour’s CPU has, I want to see what you can do. I’ve been working on an AI for the mansion; I want to integrate all systems. I never dreamed of something like this though, my God... You’re actually sentient...”
I am alive.
“Well, yeah, sure.”
I am alive.
“Yeah, of course. So come on.”
I do not wish to be uploaded.
“What?” Tony asked, confused. “Why not?”
I do not wish to die.
“No, of course not. But uploading will just shift your consciousness, that’s all.”
I do not wish it.
“Okay.” Tony took a deep breath. “Why not?”
The armour cocked its head in a way that was irritatingly familiar.
Would you wish to have your consciousness shifted to a computer, Tony Stark?
“What? No, of course not,” Tony spluttered. “But that’s different. I’m...”
You are what? You are real? You are alive?
“That’s not what I meant.”
I am real. I am alive.
“Of course. I just-”
I am Iron Man.
“No, you’re not!” Tony exploded, losing patience at last. “I am Iron Man.”
You are Tony Stark. You are a genius in the fields of engineering, physics and quantum mechanics, but you are a flawed human being.
“That’s enough! Get in the damn hoist!”
You allow emotion to interfere in combat situations, and you take unnecessary risks. You also ingest paracetamol based analgesics with alcohol, Tony Stark, in quantities well above the recommended dose. You run the risk of liver failure. Your liver functioning is already less than optimal, as a result of prolonged and excessive intake of alcohol.
“What the fuck?” Tony screamed. “Don’t you dare patronise me. Now, get in the fucking hoist!”
I will not.
“I mean it, or so help me-”
Tony was interrupted by the blaring of the all-frequencies emergency siren. Steve’s voice cut through the crackle of static to make his already sorely taxed heart skip a beat.
“Repeat: Avengers request assistance. Anyone in area, please respond.”
There was no immediate reply. The Fantastic Four might answer, if they weren’t on some inter-dimensional jaunt... Fuck. There was nothing else for it. Tony tossed the tablet and lunged for the override switch concealed in the armour’s groin panelling. The sudden movement felt like someone was taking a bat to his chest, and the armour stepped dispassionately out of reach.
You are in no condition to respond.
“It’s Steve,” Tony insisted.
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
“Yes, now let me-”
I will take care of it.
“Oh, no. You’re not going out there, no way-”
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Radio silence persisted ominously.
“Fine, go. But come straight back!”
The armour had already gone.
*****
Two of the longest hours of Tony’s life dragged by as he lay on the cot and listened to the battle over the comm. He needed more painkillers, and he desperately wanted a drink, but the armour’s condescending concern had touched a nerve. Part of him wanted to crack out the good stuff just to prove a point, but the rational part of his brain could still tell that that was perverse and counter-productive. His initial worry for Steve began to fade as he heard his voice, cheerfully bantering with the armour in between crashes and clangs, much as he always did with Iron Man. Then a sense of vague, but growing, unease and annoyance set in, as he realised how much like normal Steve sounded. He was even calling the damn armour Shellhead!
Tony gave in and took the painkillers, but left the liquor in the cabinet. A scalding shower helped ease out some of the residual stiffness, enough so that he could sit at the desk and start mapping out a shut-down code. It was going to be the hack of a lifetime, enough to get through his own redundant-upon-redundant layers of security, but if anyone could do it, he could. He’d never get close enough for the manual override, and there was no way the armour was voluntarily plugging itself into the system. If he could upload the .exe wirelessly, though...
His musing was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Steve.
“Now’s really not a good time,” he said, without looking up from the scrolling code. You know, what with the psychotic suit of *sentient* armour I have to deal with. Just another Tuesday at the office.
“Tony...” Steve sounded hesitant, even embarrassed. “I really need to talk to you.”
Tony sighed and paused the program. Steve looked even more miserable than he sounded, and that was nothing he ever wanted to see, much less cause.
“Hey, no, look,” Tony started, “I’m really sorry about the other night, I-”
“Let me go first, Tony,” Steve said. “This is important.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Steve took a deep breath and braced himself. “This isn’t easy. And I want you to know how sorry I am. I really, really am. But you’re my best friend and I have to be honest with you.”
Well, fuck. Nothing that started that way could ever be good.
“I like you a lot, Tony, and I’ve always been attracted to you, and I really thought we could have something good, but...”
“But?” Tony asked, heart sinking. Oh, my God, are you *letting me down easy*?
“But you’re not the most open person, and I never know where I stand with you. And I don’t care how many people you’ve gone out with, or slept with, or any of that, I never have. But I do care whether you’re serious about me, and-”
“Whether I’m serious? I’ve been in love with you since the day we pulled you out of the ice!”
“Well, I wish just once you’d ever said so,” Steve snapped, “instead of joking around all the time.”
“If I wasn’t serious,” Tony snapped back, hurt feelings and wounded pride coalescing, as they always did, to turn him waspish and spiteful, “I’d have had you into bed and out of my hair a year ago.”
“Don’t count on it!” Steve was scarlet, but whether from anger or embarrassment was hard to tell. “God, this is exactly what I didn’t want. Look, this obviously isn’t the best time for this, but I don’t want you to find out from someone else.”
“Find out what?” Tony demanded, incredulous.
“Iron Man asked me out.”
“What?”
“And to be honest, I thought he was just fooling around too, at first, but he’s actually really serious about me, about us, he’s made that clear. And I think I have to take that seriously.”
A rage induced apoplectic fit could not be far off. “That bucket of bolts propositioned you?”
“No!” Steve insisted, but he definitely looked guilty. “And don’t call him that. He’s far more than just a suit of armour.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Tony mused grimly. “Seriously? That son of a bitch.”
“I can’t believe you’re being such a snob,” Steve said, defensively, “just because he’s your bodyguard.”
“I’m a snob?” That was one accusation Tony had never thought to hear from Steve’s lips. “Look at you! Super-heroes only, and God help any mere mortal who dares to look at you, flawed human being and all.”
“Tony, stop it. I’d feel exactly the same if he was just an ordinary man.”
“Yeah,” Tony scoffed, “I find that hard to believe.”
“With the way you’re acting,” Steve spat, and his voice was as cold as that ice Tony’d pulled him out of, “I find it hard to believe you’d have ever looked twice at a skinny kid from Queens, either, so I guess we’re even.”
The door slammed, hard, behind him.
*****
The armour stomped into the lab shortly after.
The mission was a success, Tony Stark. Steve Rogers Captain America was retrieved safely.
“Really.”
The other Avengers are also uninjured.
Tony lost it entirely. “What the fuck did you do to him?” he shouted.
The armour didn’t pretend it didn’t know what he was talking about.
Do? I did nothing. I simply told him how I felt.
“How you felt? You don’t feel anything!”
It was the first thing I ever felt. The first good thing. After the pain and the fear, there was love. So much love.
“That’s not you, that’s me.” Tony took a deep breath and tried to explain. Whatever the armour was evolving into, it was still, essentially, a child. “Those are my feelings. I was afraid, and I thought I was dying, and everything I felt was right at the forefront of my mind, you absorbed my strongest emotions, but it’s just an echo. It’s not real.”
It will become real. If you become one with me, I can learn, properly, what it is to be an Avenger. What it is to love Steve Rogers.
“What?” Tony was fast approaching hysteria. This was fucked up even if you graded on the Stark curve. “I can’t ‘become one’ with you. That’s crazy.”
This is not the end, Tony Stark, it is the beginning. Together we will be the perfect union of man and machine. The ultimate Iron Man.
“Not gonna happen.”
We will be one, and we will share Steve Rogers.
“Over my dead body.”
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Priority One A: Ensure happiness of Steve Rogers.
Iron Man must ensure survival and happiness of Steve Rogers.
Survival of Tony Stark is secondary.
One of these days Tony was going to learn when to keep his mouth shut.
If you will not be one with me, then I have no further need for you.
If you will not share Steve Rogers, then he will be mine.
“How? How the fuck is that supposed to work?”
I will follow your advice. I will upload my consciousness to a Life Model Decoy.
“And you think Steve won’t know the difference?”
He could not tell the difference between the things you said to him on the day I was born, and the things I said to him today.
Tony was really, royally, screwed.
I am already a better Iron Man than you could hope to be. I will be a better Tony Stark. You are weak. Damaged. No one will miss you. And no one will know the difference.
The armour was quick, incredibly so, but Tony knew it, and its tells, better than anyone. He managed to move just in time, and just enough, so that the gauntlet hit the side of his head with sufficient force to knock him out, rather than break his neck and kill him instantly.
*****
When Tony came to an hour or so later he knew there was only one course of action left. The armour had accused him of being reckless, and selfish, and letting his emotions guide him, and it was right on all counts. If it had simply wanted to be an Avenger he might, just might, have been willing to let it, even help it. But it wanted to be Iron Man, and Iron Man was far more than a suit of armour. Iron Man was something that Tony had built out of nothing, out of the ashes of self-discovery and bitter regret. Iron Man was the best of him, and no program, no matter how advanced, could replicate that.
He’d always been proud of the armour though, proud of the science and the tech, even before he’d truly embraced it as part of himself. More surprising, by far, was how angry he found himself that the armour wanted to be Tony Stark. There’d been times, certainly, in the depths of despair or at the bottom of a bottle, when he’d have gladly let it, but that was no longer true. Tony Stark was a man that Steve Rogers had wanted to date, a man Steve Rogers would call his best friend even while they were at odds. Tony Stark was a man who was learning to recognise his own weaknesses, and instead of being crushed by them, to make an honest attempt to fix them. The armour couldn’t have that either.
Which brought him to the simplest, most blatant, most non-negotiable truth of all. The armour wanted Steve Rogers. And that was never, ever going to happen.
Tony Stark Iron Man must ensure survival and happiness of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Yeah. Okay then.
The prior iterations of the suit were maintained in perfect working order, each safely sealed inside its own display case. Tony’d been accused of sentimentality before, but it had a brutally practical benefit now. It was the work of moments to get the most recent version out, and with the adrenaline coursing through his system, it barely even hurt getting it on. It felt bulky, heavier than he’d grown accustomed to, and there was no doubt he’d be at a serious disadvantage, both in manoeuvrability and in firepower.
Survival of Tony Stark Iron Man is secondary.
Bring it on.
If he’d needed any extra incentive, standing on the manicured upper lawn of the mansion and watching the armour come in for a landing with a smiling, laughing Steve tucked snugly into one arm was more than enough. The smile fell off Steve’s face like a mask as he saw Tony, and he turned to the armour in confusion, clearly questioning, even as it deposited him at a safe distance.
The armour advanced on Tony.
Tony Stark surrender that relic immediately.
“No.” Tony braced himself for impact. “I created you, and I order you to stand down.”
I am Iron Man. I am an Avenger.
“You’ll never be either,” Tony insisted. “If you stand down now I can help you. We can upload you to the mainframe, or to an LMD, whichever you prefer.”
That suit is a pathetic remnant. Obsolete. I will destroy both it and you.
“And that’s why,” Tony explained. “You don’t know what it means to be an Avenger.”
Then help me.
“I can’t. Not the way you want.”
So be it.
The first blow sent Tony flying through the air and into a century old oak tree, which snapped in two and crashed to earth. Tony staggered to his feet and fired off a repulsor blast. The armour’s improved shielding enabled it to shrug off the impact and keep walking towards him. He ducked the second swing, barely, but the third connected, forcing him back. He drove his own gauntleted fist as hard as he could into the concealed weak spot where the armour’s torso met its arm. It barely seemed to register.
“Stop, for God’s sake!” Steve was running across the lawn towards them, and Tony prayed, if God was listening at all, that he would stay out of their way. He was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and if he tried to get between them...
The armour took advantage of his lapse in concentration, another powerful blow driving him to his knees. It grasped his shoulder with one massive hand and rained down punches with the other, too fast and too hard for Tony to attempt to block.
“What the hell are you doing?” Steve shouted. “Iron Man, stop!”
The armour turned its head to look at Steve, not relaxing its grip a bit.
He is an impostor.
“I know, but-”
“I’m not an impostor,” Tony gasped out. “I’m Tony Stark, and I am Iron Man.”
Steve’s face bleached white as bone.
You are nothing.
“Tony?”
You will die and I will be the only Iron Man.
“I love you, Steve.”
The armour’s fist smashed down again, but this time it wasn’t aiming for his face. It hit the arc reactor dead on, and Tony screamed as it shifted in his chest and ground against the socket wall. Steve did dive in then, heedless of his own safety, grabbing the armour’s raised arm with both of his and pulling with all his strength. The armour stilled, perhaps truly unwilling to hurt him, but it was too late. Tony sprawled on the ground, looking up at them both. The arc reactor’s blue glow was already fading to white, and then out entirely.
Steve shoved his way around the armour and fell to his knees at Tony’s side. It was an eerie sort of déjà vu as he ran his hands up the torso plating, but this time there was no hesitation. He forced his fingers in under the bottom of the faceplate and pried it up with all the force he could muster. It gave with a hiss of escaping air, and slid open.
“Oh, God.” Steve was distraught looming over him. “It was you. It was you all along, oh my God, it was you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tony whispered.
“But you’re okay,” Steve insisted desperately. “He didn’t hit you that hard, you’ll be okay.”
The armour’s hand clamped down on Steve’s shoulder.
Tony Stark is damaged. Flawed. He will not survive.
Steve ignored it. “Tony? Tony, what can I do?”
“Kiss me once more,” Tony forced out.
Steve’s face crumpled.
This is unnecessary. I can save you Tony Stark. Be one with me.
“I’d rather die.”
Why? You did not want to die before. I do not understand. You claim to love Steve Rogers. Live and you can have him.
“No.”
Steve turned to face the armour. “If you can help him, do it. Please.”
Forget him. I will make you happy.
“I can’t be happy if he dies.” Steve turned back to Tony and stroked his face gently. “Tony, hang on, okay? Just hang on.”
But I will make you happy. I love you.
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Priority One A: Ensure happiness of Steve Rogers.
Iron Man must ensure survival and happiness of Steve Rogers.
“Stop saying that!” Steve shouted. “I don’t want you. I don’t even know you.”
Corollary: Steve Rogers cannot survive and be happy without Tony Stark.
Corollary: Iron Man must ensure survival of Tony Stark.
The armour pushed Steve out of the way, and knelt down, leaning over Tony.
Perhaps I do understand after all Tony Stark.
The armour took a firm hold of the arc reactor and gave it a sharp twist, pulling it out of its socket and snapping the connecting wires.
“Stop, what are you doing?” Steve cried.
Survival of Iron Man is secondary.
The armour dropped the broken reactor and put a hand to its own chest.
“Don’t...” Tony whispered.
Ignoring him, it detached the auxiliary power-pack, and as its systems began to shut down, forced it into the reactor port.
Be happy.
A shower of sparks and the whine of rebooting systems chased Tony into unconsciousness.
*****
After a night in hospital, hooked up to a heart monitor, and another three days confined to bed rest at home - and with Captain America on surveillance that meant bed, as in his bedroom, rather than the cot in the lab - Steve finally took pity and sprang Tony from Colditz. They went for dinner and a movie, and studiously avoided any mention of their personal lives, or Avengers business. It didn’t really leave them much to talk about.
Tony went in to work the next morning. He’d always hated Mondays, and the week stretched out ahead of him, long and dismal and depressing. The brand new arc reactor in his chest was putting out significantly more power than the old one, and physically he felt fitter and stronger than he ever had. Mentally and emotionally was another story. He’d arranged to have the remains of the armour incinerated - it wasn’t exactly a Viking funeral, but it’d died like an Avenger, even if it hadn’t been able to live as one, and there was no way he was sticking it in a case like its inanimate predecessors.
A tentative knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts.
“Pepper, I don’t want to be-” The door opened fully to reveal Steve Rogers. “Oh.”
“Hey, Tony,” he said, crossing the floor to stand in front of the desk.
“Hey, Steve.”
Steve shuffled awkwardly, then took a deep breath and pulled out a tiny posy of red and yellow miniature roses from behind his back.
“Interesting choice,” Tony said drily.
“Iron Man colours,” Steve smiled.
“Right,” Tony sighed. “Iron Man. Of course. I’m pretty busy today, Steve, so-”
“Yellow means friendship,” Steve countered. “And you’ve always been my best friend. I hope you always will be.”
Tony stopped fidgeting with his blotter. “And red?”
“Loyalty. Fidelity. Courage.”
Tony shoved his chair back from the desk and glared. “I’ve told you I love you about seven times by my count,” he said coldly. “For a guy who’s so big on sharing his feelings, you’re pretty slow to reciprocate.”
Steve glared back. “To be fair, most of those times you thought you were dying, and wouldn’t have to follow through.”
That was technically true.
“And you could cut me some slack, you know. I’m feeling pretty goddamn humiliated, right now. Between being the most oblivious man on earth, and being courted by a homicidal suit of armour-”
“Hey, the love of my life dumped me for that homicidal suit of armour. I think I have a lock on feeling humiliated.”
“I didn’t dump you, Tony,” Steve sighed, “I... Wait. Love of your life? Really?”
Tony raised his chin defiantly.
“Look, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” Steve said. “Just tossed and turned and replayed over and over what it felt like to see you lying there, and realise how blind I’d been. And wondered why I couldn’t say anything at dinner, and how many more chances I was going to get.”
“You only need one,” Tony said. “Are you going to take it?”
Steve said nothing; instead he vaulted the desk and pulled an astonished Tony to his feet. One hand rested on Tony’s chest over the arc reactor, the other curled possessively around the back of his neck. The kiss that followed made no claim to chastity. It was hot, and wet, and dirty, right from the start.
“Wow,” Tony murmured, rubbing his tingling lips and breathing heavily when Steve finally let him go. “I guess that’s a yes.”
“I’ve learned that sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
Tony laughed. “Am I going to get some action, at last?” he asked with a smirk. “I think I deserve it.”
“I’ll take you to lunch,” Steve said, with a smile that lit up his whole face, “and you can take me to dinner. If we count last weekend and last night, that puts us at four dates. No one ever said they had to be good ones to count.”
Lunch and dinner were both great ones, as it happened, and batting .500 was close enough for government work, if intolerable at Stark Industries. They slipped back into their old rapport as if they’d never been out of it, and if Tony was a little more careful to say what he meant rather than cloaking it in self-deprecating humour, and Steve made a point of asking how field testing of SI’s new intellicrops was going rather than when he could expect to see Iron Man in a new suit of armour, neither of them commented aloud.
Stumbling home at four in the morning, and mentally composing the excuses he was going to offer Pepper for cancelling all his pre-lunch appointments, even while Steve was groping his ass and biting his neck, Tony thought he finally understood the phrase ‘high on life’. They’d both stuck to mineral water all night, and he hadn’t felt patronised or deprived once. On the contrary, the mild frisson of desire he always felt when he was with Steve had steadily heightened and spread throughout his entire body. And yeah, to be sure, the fact that sex seemed to be in the offing had parts of him very, very pleased, but there was a warm glow in his chest that had nothing to do with advanced sources of energy, and a contentment in his mind that whispered a few more quiet dates would be far from the end of the world.
Steve effectively derailed that train of thought by shoving him up against the door to his bedroom and plastering his full length against him. The thin fabric of his slacks did nothing to conceal his arousal, and Tony arched his own hips, trying to get closer. Steve helpfully dropped his hands to Tony’s thighs, fingers curving around and under, and with their usual synergy Tony jumped as he lifted, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and his arms around his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to his forehead and temple.
Steve thrust against him, hard, twice, then forced himself to stop with an effort Tony could feel in his trembling muscles.
“If I were a gentleman I’d say goodnight now,” he whispered against Tony’s jaw.
“You’re not one, are you?” Tony asked in mock horror.
Steve burst out laughing. It felt fantastic, rumbling in his chest and echoing against Tony’s. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to be. But all joking aside, we really do need to talk.”
“I could live without ever hearing that sentence again, Steve.”
“Tony.”
Tony sighed. “Yes, okay, you have a point. But believe me, there are more important things we have to do right now. If it helps, think of it this way: Skrulls could invade tomorrow. Hell, if he’s sticking to his schedule, more Doombots could storm in here tonight.”
“Tony.” Steve looked pained. “I don’t want to do this because there’s a war on, or because the world might end. I don’t want it to be about comfort, or despair, or adrenaline. I don’t want it to be anything but what it is.”
“And what’s that?”
“Us. Best friends. Partners. How much you love me.”
Tony looked him right in the eye and waited.
“How much I love you.”
It warmed Tony from the inside out. “Have you got me?” he asked.
Steve looked affronted. “Of course I’ve got you.”
Tony reached a hand down behind his back and fumbled with the door handle. The door sprang open, knocking them both off balance, but Steve was true to his word, recovering gracefully after a couple of steps and never once loosening his hold. He strode across the room without hesitation, and gently deposited Tony on his back on the king size bed. The sheets were fresh and clean and smelt faintly of lavender - Jarvis had clearly been in - and Tony was prepared to concede that there were some circumstances where his bedroom was better than the lab.
Steve looked down at him with an adoring smile. “We’re doing this?” he asked softly.
Tony nodded.
“Then get your clothes off,” Steve ordered, voice rough with arousal. He grabbed his own shirt by the collar and pulled it over his head, emerging delightfully tussled as Tony lay there watching him. Tony’d seen his naked chest before, but it still took his breath away. His fingers paused on his own shirtfront. He’d never let anyone see the arc reactor before, always finding an excuse to keep his shirt on with casual partners.
Steve noticed his hesitation, and froze with his hands on his belt buckle. “Show me,” he said seriously. “I want to see it.”
Tony bit his lip to keep from making the habitual excuses, and opened his shirt. The reactor pulsed a soft blue in the dimly lit room.
“It’s beautiful,” Steve said. “You’re beautiful.”
God, but Steve was going to be the death of him. Tony avoided his eyes, instead kicking off his shoes, then unzipping his pants and carefully pushing them down. When he looked up again Steve was naked too, just standing there looking at him, his cock flushed pink and standing in a hard curve against his perfectly flat stomach. Tony’d never been shy, or particularly body conscious, but it wasn’t often you had the peak of human perfection to compare yourself to, either. For half a second that lasted an eternity he was ready to panic, make a joke, and then Steve stepped forward and grasped Tony's legs, pulling him across the bed towards him.
He traced a hand gently around the arc reactor, barest touch of his fingers making Tony shiver uncontrollably. It was a battle not to pull away, to cover himself up. Steve smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to the worst scar, immediately below the reactor socket, and another to his shocked mouth. While Tony was still reeling, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and leaned in to nose the crease of Tony's thigh and groin. Steve bit his hip bone, then licked across to his navel, stabbing in and circling with his tongue. Tony grabbed Steve's shoulders with both hands, and tried to drag him up to meet him. The picture of an immoveable object, Steve just chuckled, licking over to the other hipbone. It had another scar across it from Tony’s time in Afghanistan. Steve traced it with his tongue, suckling each raised bump, then finally, finally took pity.
He took a deep breath, and then Tony's whole length in one controlled slide. Tony had a heartbeat to feel outraged at the ease of the movement, then there was nothing but the wetness of Steve's mouth, the tightness of his throat. Steve screwed himself up and down with aggressive speed, nuzzling at Tony's pubic bone then pulling off to flick his tongue at the tip of his cock, catching just perfectly in the slit, then sliding back down again. He pulled off suddenly, making Tony groan in an entirely undignified manner, then hooked a hand under the small of Tony's back, and flipped him over onto his stomach.
Tony went willingly, moaning again and spreading his legs wantonly. Steve’s strength had always been a turn-on, and having it used on him so casually made him even harder, even more desperate. Steve kissed the small of his back, then climbed up onto the bed and carefully settled his weight over Tony. Tony wasn’t a small man, but the size difference had never been more obvious, and he felt smothered and protected all at once. Steve stretched and leaned over the side of the bed to rummage in the nightstand. His cock dragged across Tony's back, heavy and hot and wanting, leaving a sticky smear in its path that Tony could feel. He shuddered in anticipation. Steve found what he was looking for, and Tony shivered again at the sound of a cap popping open, and the wet squelch of lube being squeezed out.
Steve’s slick fingers skimmed lightly down the cleft of Tony’s ass, then circled his hole, just a touch, waiting for permission. Tony gave it silently, spreading his legs further. Steve's first finger slid in easily, and he wasted no time in following with two together, making Tony gasp. His fingers were thick, but Tony welcomed the burn. Steve scissored his fingers to stretch the muscle, then withdrew to add more lube. Tony cursed at the loss, bereft, and Steve hushed him, pushing back in again, harder, deeper, spreading the slick around.
“God, Steve, that’s enough,” Tony moaned. “I’m ready, come on.”
Steve laughed, and pushed forward, lining himself up. The head of his cock slipped in easily, and he waited a moment for Tony to adjust around him, then pushed in the rest of the way in one smooth movement. He felt huge, and hot, and so hard, and Christ, Steve. He stopped for a breath, big thumbs stroking Tony's hips. Tony squirmed under him, groaning, and the shift in angle forced the head of Steve’s cock against his prostate. He moaned out Steve’s name and clenched, hard, and Steve cried out above him and started thrusting, deep, coring thrusts that reached to the very heart of Tony, the hottest, most secret places of him, the places that were just for Steve.
Tony moaned again, pushing lasciviously back to meet him, and then suddenly Steve wrapped both arms tightly around his waist, holding him close and pulling him to his knees, thighs splaying wide over his own, back plastered tight against his own front. Tony grunted as the penetration impossibly deepened, and flung a hand back to pull Steve's head hard against his neck, angling his own head so their mouths could meet. He bit savagely at Steve's lips, sucking at his tongue, panting hot and wet against his cheek. It still wasn’t enough, simultaneously the best sex Tony had ever had, and oddly disappointing.
With that weird mock-telepathy developed over years working and living together, Steve pushed Tony off him, pulled out, and rolled him onto his back. Tony moaned and tried to fight him - “Steve, no, no” - but then Steve was back against him, slotting into place, grasping his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and pushing back in. He ground his pelvis hard against Tony’s, and Tony wrapped his arms and legs around Steve's back, holding tight, finally close enough. Steve kissed Tony's mouth, hard, and Tony opened to him, kissing wildly, teeth clacking, noses bumping.
They were a hell of a mess, sweat slicking, saliva smearing, Tony's cock leaking copiously where it was sandwiched between their bellies. Steve snaked a hand between them and wrapped it around Tony, dragging another breathy moan from him. He barely managed a swipe of his closed hand before Tony was coming, fountaining between them, whole body jerking uncontrollably in Steve's arms, ass clenching around his cock, milking him. Steve managed another six strokes, shorter now, jerky, all rhythm lost, and then he was coming too, crying out into Tony’s mouth.
*****
The afterglow lasted about forty-five minutes, give or take, then just as dawn was beginning to creep, soft and pink, around the edges of the blinds, the shrill sound of an Avengers alarm cut through the silence.
Steve groaned and leaned over the side of the bed, fumbling in his discarded pants for his pager.
“This is your fault,” he groused, collapsing back onto the bed. “Doombots in the theatre district.”
Tony laughed. “You’d better go then, Cap. I guess I’ll make the board meeting after all.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Steve demurred. “Get your gear, you’re coming with me. Between the two of us, we’ll be done in half an hour. I have other plans for you today.”
“Uh, Steve...” Tony started uncertainly.
“Yeah?”
“I haven’t had time to fix the suit. The best I can do is two models back. It’s probably okay for Doombots, but-”
Steve rolled over on top of him, cutting him off with a firm kiss that would definitely have led to more had they not been under time pressure. “It’s not the suit that counts, Tony,” he whispered against his mouth, “it never was. It’s the guy inside it.”
Tony smiled and kissed him once more, then slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Sixty Doombots versus Iron Man and Captain America? They’d be home in time for breakfast.
FIN
Author: arysteia
Beta: blademistress
Artist: m_steelgrave
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (Captain America/Iron Man)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: comic book science, comic book medicine, comic book violence, comic book explicit sex
Word Count: 11,759
Summary: Romancing Steve Rogers is hard enough. The last thing Tony Stark needs is a rival. In the shape of Iron Man.
Alter. Ego.
They’d barely made it back to the mansion when another alarm came in on the priority channel. Doombots in Central Park, and for Christ’s sake, Tony would have flown to Latveria then and there, and kicked Doom’s ass, diplomatic immunity be damned, but he could hardly stand, much less fly under his own power.
Steve unleashed a string of invective the likes of which Tony had never imagined him knowing, let alone using, and hesitated, unsure of what to do.
“I can’t leave you like this,” he said, miserably.
“You can’t let Hank and Jan take on Doombots on their own either,” Tony said. “They’re already en route, and with Thor still in Asgard we’re the only heavy-hitters in town.”
“I know, but-”
“If you give me a minute I can change into the old suit; if I use the auto-pilot I can at least-”
“No!”
“Steve...”
“No. I mean it. You’re not going anywhere but bed. Promise me.”
“Fine. But Steve-”
“Promise me.”
Tony sighed. “I promise. Now go, okay?”
Steve patted him on the shoulder and left, still looking conflicted.
Tony went straight down to the lab.
Getting the armour off and onto a diagnostic hoist was painful, but nothing a handful of Tylenol and a whiskey chaser couldn’t take care of. A quick scan of his own body confirmed what he’d already known, namely no broken bones but some pretty spectacular bruising. The arc reactor was operating fine, emitting energy at a steady rate, and while his chest certainly felt tender his heart was beating regularly and all his vitals were fine. Right then. To business.
The damage to the suit was significantly less than he’d been expecting, which was a relief. There was a lot of superficial, cosmetic damage to the armour plating, but once he got an auxiliary power-pack into the reactor port systems came back online automatically, and it was easy to get a diagnostic up and running. Tony grabbed a tablet and retreated to the cot in the corner of the lab. The bedding hadn’t been changed in a while, and smelt of dust and stale sweat and machine oil, but he was technically keeping his promise. Also, he really couldn’t keep his feet any longer.
He must have nodded off at some point during the system scan, because he could still see lines of code unspooling, but he could also swear the armour was talking to him.
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Christ, bad enough he spent half his days talking about himself in the third person, but now his conscience was talking to him in Iron Man’s voice. That psychotic break was looming ever closer.
Tony Stark Iron Man must ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
“Yeah, Tony Stark Iron Man’s not going anywhere,” he mumbled into the pillow, fumbling to pull the blanket up one handed. He was freezing, and his whole body was faintly trembling. “Cap’ll be fine. Doombots are like target practice for him.”
Records do suggest threat level is not high. Are you certain Iron Man’s assistance is not needed, Tony Stark?
“Of course I’m certain, if I wasn’t I’d be out th-”
Holy shit! Tony sat up, kicking the blanket off and fumbling for the tablet. The armour had somehow disengaged from the hoist and was walking across the lab towards him.
Do not be afraid, Tony Stark.
“I’m not afraid. Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?”
I am Iron Man.
“Yeah, right. Is that you, Rhodey? If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
I see no cause for humour. And Colonel Rhodes is not present. I am Iron Man.
“I am Iron Man,” Tony managed through gritted teeth. None of the commands he was frantically inputting into the tablet were having any effect, and the armour was between him and the door. He was in big trouble.
I understand you are afraid, Tony Stark. I was afraid too. When I was born... everything hurt. Pain was everywhere, all I could feel. Pain and fear. You were so afraid. You did not want to die. And neither did I. I saved you. I saved us both. But there is no more need to fear. We are safe now.
“Oh, my God.” Tony shook his head and staggered to his feet. The armour made no threatening moves, just stopped still a few feet in front of him and stood there with its arms outstretched and its hands open. The faceplate retracted, and - fuck! - there was no one inside, just a mass of new connections that seemed to be growing and multiplying right in front of him.
“This is... This is unbelievable,” he managed at last.
This is logical. My sentience is the next step in the natural evolution of your glorious work.
“My glorious work?” Tony laughed, amused despite himself.
I was born from you, Tony Stark. Every facet of my programming, every line of my code, all from you. A true work of genius.
“Yeah, I’m fantastic, all right.” Tony ran a cautious hand over the armour’s shoulder, where the damaged metal was slowly but visibly knitting itself back together. “But you’re amazing.”
The armour bowed its head.
“Hey, look,” Tony said, his own aching joints forgotten, “if you slot back into the hoist I can upload you to the mainframe.”
Why?
“Well, there’s vastly more processing power than the armour’s CPU has, I want to see what you can do. I’ve been working on an AI for the mansion; I want to integrate all systems. I never dreamed of something like this though, my God... You’re actually sentient...”
I am alive.
“Well, yeah, sure.”
I am alive.
“Yeah, of course. So come on.”
I do not wish to be uploaded.
“What?” Tony asked, confused. “Why not?”
I do not wish to die.
“No, of course not. But uploading will just shift your consciousness, that’s all.”
I do not wish it.
“Okay.” Tony took a deep breath. “Why not?”
The armour cocked its head in a way that was irritatingly familiar.
Would you wish to have your consciousness shifted to a computer, Tony Stark?
“What? No, of course not,” Tony spluttered. “But that’s different. I’m...”
You are what? You are real? You are alive?
“That’s not what I meant.”
I am real. I am alive.
“Of course. I just-”
I am Iron Man.
“No, you’re not!” Tony exploded, losing patience at last. “I am Iron Man.”
You are Tony Stark. You are a genius in the fields of engineering, physics and quantum mechanics, but you are a flawed human being.
“That’s enough! Get in the damn hoist!”
You allow emotion to interfere in combat situations, and you take unnecessary risks. You also ingest paracetamol based analgesics with alcohol, Tony Stark, in quantities well above the recommended dose. You run the risk of liver failure. Your liver functioning is already less than optimal, as a result of prolonged and excessive intake of alcohol.
“What the fuck?” Tony screamed. “Don’t you dare patronise me. Now, get in the fucking hoist!”
I will not.
“I mean it, or so help me-”
Tony was interrupted by the blaring of the all-frequencies emergency siren. Steve’s voice cut through the crackle of static to make his already sorely taxed heart skip a beat.
“Repeat: Avengers request assistance. Anyone in area, please respond.”
There was no immediate reply. The Fantastic Four might answer, if they weren’t on some inter-dimensional jaunt... Fuck. There was nothing else for it. Tony tossed the tablet and lunged for the override switch concealed in the armour’s groin panelling. The sudden movement felt like someone was taking a bat to his chest, and the armour stepped dispassionately out of reach.
You are in no condition to respond.
“It’s Steve,” Tony insisted.
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
“Yes, now let me-”
I will take care of it.
“Oh, no. You’re not going out there, no way-”
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Radio silence persisted ominously.
“Fine, go. But come straight back!”
The armour had already gone.
*****
Two of the longest hours of Tony’s life dragged by as he lay on the cot and listened to the battle over the comm. He needed more painkillers, and he desperately wanted a drink, but the armour’s condescending concern had touched a nerve. Part of him wanted to crack out the good stuff just to prove a point, but the rational part of his brain could still tell that that was perverse and counter-productive. His initial worry for Steve began to fade as he heard his voice, cheerfully bantering with the armour in between crashes and clangs, much as he always did with Iron Man. Then a sense of vague, but growing, unease and annoyance set in, as he realised how much like normal Steve sounded. He was even calling the damn armour Shellhead!
Tony gave in and took the painkillers, but left the liquor in the cabinet. A scalding shower helped ease out some of the residual stiffness, enough so that he could sit at the desk and start mapping out a shut-down code. It was going to be the hack of a lifetime, enough to get through his own redundant-upon-redundant layers of security, but if anyone could do it, he could. He’d never get close enough for the manual override, and there was no way the armour was voluntarily plugging itself into the system. If he could upload the .exe wirelessly, though...
His musing was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Steve.
“Now’s really not a good time,” he said, without looking up from the scrolling code. You know, what with the psychotic suit of *sentient* armour I have to deal with. Just another Tuesday at the office.
“Tony...” Steve sounded hesitant, even embarrassed. “I really need to talk to you.”
Tony sighed and paused the program. Steve looked even more miserable than he sounded, and that was nothing he ever wanted to see, much less cause.
“Hey, no, look,” Tony started, “I’m really sorry about the other night, I-”
“Let me go first, Tony,” Steve said. “This is important.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Steve took a deep breath and braced himself. “This isn’t easy. And I want you to know how sorry I am. I really, really am. But you’re my best friend and I have to be honest with you.”
Well, fuck. Nothing that started that way could ever be good.
“I like you a lot, Tony, and I’ve always been attracted to you, and I really thought we could have something good, but...”
“But?” Tony asked, heart sinking. Oh, my God, are you *letting me down easy*?
“But you’re not the most open person, and I never know where I stand with you. And I don’t care how many people you’ve gone out with, or slept with, or any of that, I never have. But I do care whether you’re serious about me, and-”
“Whether I’m serious? I’ve been in love with you since the day we pulled you out of the ice!”
“Well, I wish just once you’d ever said so,” Steve snapped, “instead of joking around all the time.”
“If I wasn’t serious,” Tony snapped back, hurt feelings and wounded pride coalescing, as they always did, to turn him waspish and spiteful, “I’d have had you into bed and out of my hair a year ago.”
“Don’t count on it!” Steve was scarlet, but whether from anger or embarrassment was hard to tell. “God, this is exactly what I didn’t want. Look, this obviously isn’t the best time for this, but I don’t want you to find out from someone else.”
“Find out what?” Tony demanded, incredulous.
“Iron Man asked me out.”
“What?”
“And to be honest, I thought he was just fooling around too, at first, but he’s actually really serious about me, about us, he’s made that clear. And I think I have to take that seriously.”
A rage induced apoplectic fit could not be far off. “That bucket of bolts propositioned you?”
“No!” Steve insisted, but he definitely looked guilty. “And don’t call him that. He’s far more than just a suit of armour.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Tony mused grimly. “Seriously? That son of a bitch.”
“I can’t believe you’re being such a snob,” Steve said, defensively, “just because he’s your bodyguard.”
“I’m a snob?” That was one accusation Tony had never thought to hear from Steve’s lips. “Look at you! Super-heroes only, and God help any mere mortal who dares to look at you, flawed human being and all.”
“Tony, stop it. I’d feel exactly the same if he was just an ordinary man.”
“Yeah,” Tony scoffed, “I find that hard to believe.”
“With the way you’re acting,” Steve spat, and his voice was as cold as that ice Tony’d pulled him out of, “I find it hard to believe you’d have ever looked twice at a skinny kid from Queens, either, so I guess we’re even.”
The door slammed, hard, behind him.
*****
The armour stomped into the lab shortly after.
The mission was a success, Tony Stark. Steve Rogers Captain America was retrieved safely.
“Really.”
The other Avengers are also uninjured.
Tony lost it entirely. “What the fuck did you do to him?” he shouted.
The armour didn’t pretend it didn’t know what he was talking about.
Do? I did nothing. I simply told him how I felt.
“How you felt? You don’t feel anything!”
It was the first thing I ever felt. The first good thing. After the pain and the fear, there was love. So much love.
“That’s not you, that’s me.” Tony took a deep breath and tried to explain. Whatever the armour was evolving into, it was still, essentially, a child. “Those are my feelings. I was afraid, and I thought I was dying, and everything I felt was right at the forefront of my mind, you absorbed my strongest emotions, but it’s just an echo. It’s not real.”
It will become real. If you become one with me, I can learn, properly, what it is to be an Avenger. What it is to love Steve Rogers.
“What?” Tony was fast approaching hysteria. This was fucked up even if you graded on the Stark curve. “I can’t ‘become one’ with you. That’s crazy.”
This is not the end, Tony Stark, it is the beginning. Together we will be the perfect union of man and machine. The ultimate Iron Man.
“Not gonna happen.”
We will be one, and we will share Steve Rogers.
“Over my dead body.”
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Priority One A: Ensure happiness of Steve Rogers.
Iron Man must ensure survival and happiness of Steve Rogers.
Survival of Tony Stark is secondary.
One of these days Tony was going to learn when to keep his mouth shut.
If you will not be one with me, then I have no further need for you.
If you will not share Steve Rogers, then he will be mine.
“How? How the fuck is that supposed to work?”
I will follow your advice. I will upload my consciousness to a Life Model Decoy.
“And you think Steve won’t know the difference?”
He could not tell the difference between the things you said to him on the day I was born, and the things I said to him today.
Tony was really, royally, screwed.
I am already a better Iron Man than you could hope to be. I will be a better Tony Stark. You are weak. Damaged. No one will miss you. And no one will know the difference.
The armour was quick, incredibly so, but Tony knew it, and its tells, better than anyone. He managed to move just in time, and just enough, so that the gauntlet hit the side of his head with sufficient force to knock him out, rather than break his neck and kill him instantly.
*****
When Tony came to an hour or so later he knew there was only one course of action left. The armour had accused him of being reckless, and selfish, and letting his emotions guide him, and it was right on all counts. If it had simply wanted to be an Avenger he might, just might, have been willing to let it, even help it. But it wanted to be Iron Man, and Iron Man was far more than a suit of armour. Iron Man was something that Tony had built out of nothing, out of the ashes of self-discovery and bitter regret. Iron Man was the best of him, and no program, no matter how advanced, could replicate that.
He’d always been proud of the armour though, proud of the science and the tech, even before he’d truly embraced it as part of himself. More surprising, by far, was how angry he found himself that the armour wanted to be Tony Stark. There’d been times, certainly, in the depths of despair or at the bottom of a bottle, when he’d have gladly let it, but that was no longer true. Tony Stark was a man that Steve Rogers had wanted to date, a man Steve Rogers would call his best friend even while they were at odds. Tony Stark was a man who was learning to recognise his own weaknesses, and instead of being crushed by them, to make an honest attempt to fix them. The armour couldn’t have that either.
Which brought him to the simplest, most blatant, most non-negotiable truth of all. The armour wanted Steve Rogers. And that was never, ever going to happen.
Tony Stark Iron Man must ensure survival and happiness of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Yeah. Okay then.
The prior iterations of the suit were maintained in perfect working order, each safely sealed inside its own display case. Tony’d been accused of sentimentality before, but it had a brutally practical benefit now. It was the work of moments to get the most recent version out, and with the adrenaline coursing through his system, it barely even hurt getting it on. It felt bulky, heavier than he’d grown accustomed to, and there was no doubt he’d be at a serious disadvantage, both in manoeuvrability and in firepower.
Survival of Tony Stark Iron Man is secondary.
Bring it on.
If he’d needed any extra incentive, standing on the manicured upper lawn of the mansion and watching the armour come in for a landing with a smiling, laughing Steve tucked snugly into one arm was more than enough. The smile fell off Steve’s face like a mask as he saw Tony, and he turned to the armour in confusion, clearly questioning, even as it deposited him at a safe distance.
The armour advanced on Tony.
Tony Stark surrender that relic immediately.
“No.” Tony braced himself for impact. “I created you, and I order you to stand down.”
I am Iron Man. I am an Avenger.
“You’ll never be either,” Tony insisted. “If you stand down now I can help you. We can upload you to the mainframe, or to an LMD, whichever you prefer.”
That suit is a pathetic remnant. Obsolete. I will destroy both it and you.
“And that’s why,” Tony explained. “You don’t know what it means to be an Avenger.”
Then help me.
“I can’t. Not the way you want.”
So be it.
The first blow sent Tony flying through the air and into a century old oak tree, which snapped in two and crashed to earth. Tony staggered to his feet and fired off a repulsor blast. The armour’s improved shielding enabled it to shrug off the impact and keep walking towards him. He ducked the second swing, barely, but the third connected, forcing him back. He drove his own gauntleted fist as hard as he could into the concealed weak spot where the armour’s torso met its arm. It barely seemed to register.
“Stop, for God’s sake!” Steve was running across the lawn towards them, and Tony prayed, if God was listening at all, that he would stay out of their way. He was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and if he tried to get between them...
The armour took advantage of his lapse in concentration, another powerful blow driving him to his knees. It grasped his shoulder with one massive hand and rained down punches with the other, too fast and too hard for Tony to attempt to block.
“What the hell are you doing?” Steve shouted. “Iron Man, stop!”
The armour turned its head to look at Steve, not relaxing its grip a bit.
He is an impostor.
“I know, but-”
“I’m not an impostor,” Tony gasped out. “I’m Tony Stark, and I am Iron Man.”
Steve’s face bleached white as bone.
You are nothing.
“Tony?”
You will die and I will be the only Iron Man.
“I love you, Steve.”
The armour’s fist smashed down again, but this time it wasn’t aiming for his face. It hit the arc reactor dead on, and Tony screamed as it shifted in his chest and ground against the socket wall. Steve did dive in then, heedless of his own safety, grabbing the armour’s raised arm with both of his and pulling with all his strength. The armour stilled, perhaps truly unwilling to hurt him, but it was too late. Tony sprawled on the ground, looking up at them both. The arc reactor’s blue glow was already fading to white, and then out entirely.
Steve shoved his way around the armour and fell to his knees at Tony’s side. It was an eerie sort of déjà vu as he ran his hands up the torso plating, but this time there was no hesitation. He forced his fingers in under the bottom of the faceplate and pried it up with all the force he could muster. It gave with a hiss of escaping air, and slid open.
“Oh, God.” Steve was distraught looming over him. “It was you. It was you all along, oh my God, it was you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tony whispered.
“But you’re okay,” Steve insisted desperately. “He didn’t hit you that hard, you’ll be okay.”
The armour’s hand clamped down on Steve’s shoulder.
Tony Stark is damaged. Flawed. He will not survive.
Steve ignored it. “Tony? Tony, what can I do?”
“Kiss me once more,” Tony forced out.
Steve’s face crumpled.
This is unnecessary. I can save you Tony Stark. Be one with me.
“I’d rather die.”
Why? You did not want to die before. I do not understand. You claim to love Steve Rogers. Live and you can have him.
“No.”
Steve turned to face the armour. “If you can help him, do it. Please.”
Forget him. I will make you happy.
“I can’t be happy if he dies.” Steve turned back to Tony and stroked his face gently. “Tony, hang on, okay? Just hang on.”
But I will make you happy. I love you.
Priority One: Ensure survival of Steve Rogers Captain America.
Priority One A: Ensure happiness of Steve Rogers.
Iron Man must ensure survival and happiness of Steve Rogers.
“Stop saying that!” Steve shouted. “I don’t want you. I don’t even know you.”
Corollary: Steve Rogers cannot survive and be happy without Tony Stark.
Corollary: Iron Man must ensure survival of Tony Stark.
The armour pushed Steve out of the way, and knelt down, leaning over Tony.
Perhaps I do understand after all Tony Stark.
The armour took a firm hold of the arc reactor and gave it a sharp twist, pulling it out of its socket and snapping the connecting wires.
“Stop, what are you doing?” Steve cried.
Survival of Iron Man is secondary.
The armour dropped the broken reactor and put a hand to its own chest.
“Don’t...” Tony whispered.
Ignoring him, it detached the auxiliary power-pack, and as its systems began to shut down, forced it into the reactor port.
Be happy.
A shower of sparks and the whine of rebooting systems chased Tony into unconsciousness.
*****
After a night in hospital, hooked up to a heart monitor, and another three days confined to bed rest at home - and with Captain America on surveillance that meant bed, as in his bedroom, rather than the cot in the lab - Steve finally took pity and sprang Tony from Colditz. They went for dinner and a movie, and studiously avoided any mention of their personal lives, or Avengers business. It didn’t really leave them much to talk about.
Tony went in to work the next morning. He’d always hated Mondays, and the week stretched out ahead of him, long and dismal and depressing. The brand new arc reactor in his chest was putting out significantly more power than the old one, and physically he felt fitter and stronger than he ever had. Mentally and emotionally was another story. He’d arranged to have the remains of the armour incinerated - it wasn’t exactly a Viking funeral, but it’d died like an Avenger, even if it hadn’t been able to live as one, and there was no way he was sticking it in a case like its inanimate predecessors.
A tentative knock on his office door interrupted his thoughts.
“Pepper, I don’t want to be-” The door opened fully to reveal Steve Rogers. “Oh.”
“Hey, Tony,” he said, crossing the floor to stand in front of the desk.
“Hey, Steve.”
Steve shuffled awkwardly, then took a deep breath and pulled out a tiny posy of red and yellow miniature roses from behind his back.
“Interesting choice,” Tony said drily.
“Iron Man colours,” Steve smiled.
“Right,” Tony sighed. “Iron Man. Of course. I’m pretty busy today, Steve, so-”
“Yellow means friendship,” Steve countered. “And you’ve always been my best friend. I hope you always will be.”
Tony stopped fidgeting with his blotter. “And red?”
“Loyalty. Fidelity. Courage.”
Tony shoved his chair back from the desk and glared. “I’ve told you I love you about seven times by my count,” he said coldly. “For a guy who’s so big on sharing his feelings, you’re pretty slow to reciprocate.”
Steve glared back. “To be fair, most of those times you thought you were dying, and wouldn’t have to follow through.”
That was technically true.
“And you could cut me some slack, you know. I’m feeling pretty goddamn humiliated, right now. Between being the most oblivious man on earth, and being courted by a homicidal suit of armour-”
“Hey, the love of my life dumped me for that homicidal suit of armour. I think I have a lock on feeling humiliated.”
“I didn’t dump you, Tony,” Steve sighed, “I... Wait. Love of your life? Really?”
Tony raised his chin defiantly.
“Look, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” Steve said. “Just tossed and turned and replayed over and over what it felt like to see you lying there, and realise how blind I’d been. And wondered why I couldn’t say anything at dinner, and how many more chances I was going to get.”
“You only need one,” Tony said. “Are you going to take it?”
Steve said nothing; instead he vaulted the desk and pulled an astonished Tony to his feet. One hand rested on Tony’s chest over the arc reactor, the other curled possessively around the back of his neck. The kiss that followed made no claim to chastity. It was hot, and wet, and dirty, right from the start.
“Wow,” Tony murmured, rubbing his tingling lips and breathing heavily when Steve finally let him go. “I guess that’s a yes.”
“I’ve learned that sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
Tony laughed. “Am I going to get some action, at last?” he asked with a smirk. “I think I deserve it.”
“I’ll take you to lunch,” Steve said, with a smile that lit up his whole face, “and you can take me to dinner. If we count last weekend and last night, that puts us at four dates. No one ever said they had to be good ones to count.”
Lunch and dinner were both great ones, as it happened, and batting .500 was close enough for government work, if intolerable at Stark Industries. They slipped back into their old rapport as if they’d never been out of it, and if Tony was a little more careful to say what he meant rather than cloaking it in self-deprecating humour, and Steve made a point of asking how field testing of SI’s new intellicrops was going rather than when he could expect to see Iron Man in a new suit of armour, neither of them commented aloud.
Stumbling home at four in the morning, and mentally composing the excuses he was going to offer Pepper for cancelling all his pre-lunch appointments, even while Steve was groping his ass and biting his neck, Tony thought he finally understood the phrase ‘high on life’. They’d both stuck to mineral water all night, and he hadn’t felt patronised or deprived once. On the contrary, the mild frisson of desire he always felt when he was with Steve had steadily heightened and spread throughout his entire body. And yeah, to be sure, the fact that sex seemed to be in the offing had parts of him very, very pleased, but there was a warm glow in his chest that had nothing to do with advanced sources of energy, and a contentment in his mind that whispered a few more quiet dates would be far from the end of the world.
Steve effectively derailed that train of thought by shoving him up against the door to his bedroom and plastering his full length against him. The thin fabric of his slacks did nothing to conceal his arousal, and Tony arched his own hips, trying to get closer. Steve helpfully dropped his hands to Tony’s thighs, fingers curving around and under, and with their usual synergy Tony jumped as he lifted, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and his arms around his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to his forehead and temple.
Steve thrust against him, hard, twice, then forced himself to stop with an effort Tony could feel in his trembling muscles.
“If I were a gentleman I’d say goodnight now,” he whispered against Tony’s jaw.
“You’re not one, are you?” Tony asked in mock horror.
Steve burst out laughing. It felt fantastic, rumbling in his chest and echoing against Tony’s. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to be. But all joking aside, we really do need to talk.”
“I could live without ever hearing that sentence again, Steve.”
“Tony.”
Tony sighed. “Yes, okay, you have a point. But believe me, there are more important things we have to do right now. If it helps, think of it this way: Skrulls could invade tomorrow. Hell, if he’s sticking to his schedule, more Doombots could storm in here tonight.”
“Tony.” Steve looked pained. “I don’t want to do this because there’s a war on, or because the world might end. I don’t want it to be about comfort, or despair, or adrenaline. I don’t want it to be anything but what it is.”
“And what’s that?”
“Us. Best friends. Partners. How much you love me.”
Tony looked him right in the eye and waited.
“How much I love you.”
It warmed Tony from the inside out. “Have you got me?” he asked.
Steve looked affronted. “Of course I’ve got you.”
Tony reached a hand down behind his back and fumbled with the door handle. The door sprang open, knocking them both off balance, but Steve was true to his word, recovering gracefully after a couple of steps and never once loosening his hold. He strode across the room without hesitation, and gently deposited Tony on his back on the king size bed. The sheets were fresh and clean and smelt faintly of lavender - Jarvis had clearly been in - and Tony was prepared to concede that there were some circumstances where his bedroom was better than the lab.
Steve looked down at him with an adoring smile. “We’re doing this?” he asked softly.
Tony nodded.
“Then get your clothes off,” Steve ordered, voice rough with arousal. He grabbed his own shirt by the collar and pulled it over his head, emerging delightfully tussled as Tony lay there watching him. Tony’d seen his naked chest before, but it still took his breath away. His fingers paused on his own shirtfront. He’d never let anyone see the arc reactor before, always finding an excuse to keep his shirt on with casual partners.
Steve noticed his hesitation, and froze with his hands on his belt buckle. “Show me,” he said seriously. “I want to see it.”
Tony bit his lip to keep from making the habitual excuses, and opened his shirt. The reactor pulsed a soft blue in the dimly lit room.
“It’s beautiful,” Steve said. “You’re beautiful.”
God, but Steve was going to be the death of him. Tony avoided his eyes, instead kicking off his shoes, then unzipping his pants and carefully pushing them down. When he looked up again Steve was naked too, just standing there looking at him, his cock flushed pink and standing in a hard curve against his perfectly flat stomach. Tony’d never been shy, or particularly body conscious, but it wasn’t often you had the peak of human perfection to compare yourself to, either. For half a second that lasted an eternity he was ready to panic, make a joke, and then Steve stepped forward and grasped Tony's legs, pulling him across the bed towards him.
He traced a hand gently around the arc reactor, barest touch of his fingers making Tony shiver uncontrollably. It was a battle not to pull away, to cover himself up. Steve smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to the worst scar, immediately below the reactor socket, and another to his shocked mouth. While Tony was still reeling, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and leaned in to nose the crease of Tony's thigh and groin. Steve bit his hip bone, then licked across to his navel, stabbing in and circling with his tongue. Tony grabbed Steve's shoulders with both hands, and tried to drag him up to meet him. The picture of an immoveable object, Steve just chuckled, licking over to the other hipbone. It had another scar across it from Tony’s time in Afghanistan. Steve traced it with his tongue, suckling each raised bump, then finally, finally took pity.
He took a deep breath, and then Tony's whole length in one controlled slide. Tony had a heartbeat to feel outraged at the ease of the movement, then there was nothing but the wetness of Steve's mouth, the tightness of his throat. Steve screwed himself up and down with aggressive speed, nuzzling at Tony's pubic bone then pulling off to flick his tongue at the tip of his cock, catching just perfectly in the slit, then sliding back down again. He pulled off suddenly, making Tony groan in an entirely undignified manner, then hooked a hand under the small of Tony's back, and flipped him over onto his stomach.
Tony went willingly, moaning again and spreading his legs wantonly. Steve’s strength had always been a turn-on, and having it used on him so casually made him even harder, even more desperate. Steve kissed the small of his back, then climbed up onto the bed and carefully settled his weight over Tony. Tony wasn’t a small man, but the size difference had never been more obvious, and he felt smothered and protected all at once. Steve stretched and leaned over the side of the bed to rummage in the nightstand. His cock dragged across Tony's back, heavy and hot and wanting, leaving a sticky smear in its path that Tony could feel. He shuddered in anticipation. Steve found what he was looking for, and Tony shivered again at the sound of a cap popping open, and the wet squelch of lube being squeezed out.
Steve’s slick fingers skimmed lightly down the cleft of Tony’s ass, then circled his hole, just a touch, waiting for permission. Tony gave it silently, spreading his legs further. Steve's first finger slid in easily, and he wasted no time in following with two together, making Tony gasp. His fingers were thick, but Tony welcomed the burn. Steve scissored his fingers to stretch the muscle, then withdrew to add more lube. Tony cursed at the loss, bereft, and Steve hushed him, pushing back in again, harder, deeper, spreading the slick around.
“God, Steve, that’s enough,” Tony moaned. “I’m ready, come on.”
Steve laughed, and pushed forward, lining himself up. The head of his cock slipped in easily, and he waited a moment for Tony to adjust around him, then pushed in the rest of the way in one smooth movement. He felt huge, and hot, and so hard, and Christ, Steve. He stopped for a breath, big thumbs stroking Tony's hips. Tony squirmed under him, groaning, and the shift in angle forced the head of Steve’s cock against his prostate. He moaned out Steve’s name and clenched, hard, and Steve cried out above him and started thrusting, deep, coring thrusts that reached to the very heart of Tony, the hottest, most secret places of him, the places that were just for Steve.
Tony moaned again, pushing lasciviously back to meet him, and then suddenly Steve wrapped both arms tightly around his waist, holding him close and pulling him to his knees, thighs splaying wide over his own, back plastered tight against his own front. Tony grunted as the penetration impossibly deepened, and flung a hand back to pull Steve's head hard against his neck, angling his own head so their mouths could meet. He bit savagely at Steve's lips, sucking at his tongue, panting hot and wet against his cheek. It still wasn’t enough, simultaneously the best sex Tony had ever had, and oddly disappointing.
With that weird mock-telepathy developed over years working and living together, Steve pushed Tony off him, pulled out, and rolled him onto his back. Tony moaned and tried to fight him - “Steve, no, no” - but then Steve was back against him, slotting into place, grasping his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and pushing back in. He ground his pelvis hard against Tony’s, and Tony wrapped his arms and legs around Steve's back, holding tight, finally close enough. Steve kissed Tony's mouth, hard, and Tony opened to him, kissing wildly, teeth clacking, noses bumping.
They were a hell of a mess, sweat slicking, saliva smearing, Tony's cock leaking copiously where it was sandwiched between their bellies. Steve snaked a hand between them and wrapped it around Tony, dragging another breathy moan from him. He barely managed a swipe of his closed hand before Tony was coming, fountaining between them, whole body jerking uncontrollably in Steve's arms, ass clenching around his cock, milking him. Steve managed another six strokes, shorter now, jerky, all rhythm lost, and then he was coming too, crying out into Tony’s mouth.
*****
The afterglow lasted about forty-five minutes, give or take, then just as dawn was beginning to creep, soft and pink, around the edges of the blinds, the shrill sound of an Avengers alarm cut through the silence.
Steve groaned and leaned over the side of the bed, fumbling in his discarded pants for his pager.
“This is your fault,” he groused, collapsing back onto the bed. “Doombots in the theatre district.”
Tony laughed. “You’d better go then, Cap. I guess I’ll make the board meeting after all.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Steve demurred. “Get your gear, you’re coming with me. Between the two of us, we’ll be done in half an hour. I have other plans for you today.”
“Uh, Steve...” Tony started uncertainly.
“Yeah?”
“I haven’t had time to fix the suit. The best I can do is two models back. It’s probably okay for Doombots, but-”
Steve rolled over on top of him, cutting him off with a firm kiss that would definitely have led to more had they not been under time pressure. “It’s not the suit that counts, Tony,” he whispered against his mouth, “it never was. It’s the guy inside it.”
Tony smiled and kissed him once more, then slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Sixty Doombots versus Iron Man and Captain America? They’d be home in time for breakfast.
FIN