starkingenuity | (no subject)

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"You have my name. On your arm."

Tony hadn't been agonizing about it but maybe he had just a little and maybe he had driven down to DC to tell Steve Rogers what he was pretty sure that the blond already knew. A plane or the Iron Man armor would have taken much less time, but Tony needed to make frequent stops along the way so that he could try to get himself to turn back and just leave it.

It didn't always happen, the mythical arm writing, but that's what made it to special. Every teenager pretty much spent their years before college hoping for a name to turn up one day. Less than ten percent ever did, and that number was dwindling seeing as how people didn't really care if they had a name on their arm or not. If their parents and religion weren't going to tell them what to do, weird indelible writing appearing on their bodies was not either.

The thing one, Tony did not have a name on his arm. There was no corroborating Steve Rogers written in interesting patterns on his skin. There was nothing. Tony hadn't been a lucky one.

But he'd seen, accidentally, on Steve well after they had first met and it was pretty obvious that yeah, Steve would know that he'd just met Anthony E. Stark, fought beside him in New York, nearly watched him die, and then just moved away to DC after as if nothing at all happened.

Now he wanted answers,

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Tony shut the door behind him and stayed by it because...wow. It was like stepping into something sepia toned. The appliances were modern, but this place still felt old and dark. Maybe it was the old photos laying around. Or the commendations. Or maybe it was just Tony Stark seeing things that weren't there.

He felt suddenly like he was intruding.

"I'm not going to say that I'm sorry for barging in on you... I'm not sorry. I probably should have called first. It's bothering me. I don't like it when stuff bothers me."

It was a little old-fashioned, yeah, because that was how Steve wanted it to be. He wasn't ready to fully step into the new world yet. He pulls out plates and set them on the counter beside him. It's mostly just down to patience at this point and waiting for it to cook.

He glanced toward Tony when he started talking and returned his gaze back down to the food.

"I'm sorry it's bothering you," he said, but he wasn't sorry about his reaction. It was completely fair.

"So you're cool with pretending it's not a thing?" Tony wanted to be cool with that, he did, but his brain was pretty much already set on the fact that he wanted to pursue it. He wanted to see if it led to the land of fairy tales and that he had never really been able to settle down because this was what he had been waiting for.

He didn't ask to help set the table. He wanted the wine, not the pasta, but he'd wait for dinner to be done before he went for the bottle, chilling neatly in the freezer.

"I already was," he replied with a frown.

Obviously he was fine with pretending it wasn't a thing or he would have said something long before now. He tasted the pasta and strained it, then plated the entire meal. He carried the plates to the table and went back to pour them both drinks, which he also brought over to the table before he took a seat across from Tony.

"Bon appétit."

It was delicious. One forkful had Tony's eyes widening. "Did you make this from scratch? I know the box stuff and this isn't box stuff. Wow." Shit. This was even harder now.

He hadn't planned on eating much but he cleaned his plate before he even touched his wine. After Steve answered the question about the food, everything else just sort of drifted into silence.

Tony had a lot to say but he, for once, couldn't find the outlet to say anything at all. His lips pressed together as he put down his fork. His eyes hovered to where he knew his name was. It was distracting.

Steve was distracting.

Food was distracting...everything was just nice and uncomfortable all at the same time.

"I use to think about it. A lot. What I would do if I ever found anyone-- And you know what? People have tried. They'd get my middle initial wrong or it would prove to be a tattoo. Why not link yourself to a billionaire? But you have the real thing...and you were just going to let it go. That's what's making me itch so badly."

"Yeah, we didn't have much in the way of boxed stuff in the forties," Steve said, taking his own bite.

He learned to cook because he was a bachelor with a name on his arm that didn't belong to anyone he could find. As a kid, he was excited about it but then he grew up. A name didn't mean anything. They might never find each other. They might not have compatible personalities. People changed. He certainly did. There was no point in fantasizing about 'soul mates'.

Steve still listened to him as he finished his own food and he understood. There were one or two people for him. Nothing like what Tony went through he was sure and maybe there were others during his USO time but they probably kept them from him. None of them matched the name on his arm so they were all a lie.

He understood, he did, but it was too late. He leaned back heavily in his chair after he set down his fork. "I gave up on it before you were even born. I fell in love with someone during the war. For me, it's been less than a year since I put the plane down in the water."

Tony held up a hand almost immediately. "I'm not asking you for any of that. I don't want to try it out or date or step out or whatever you use to call it back before I was born. I gave up on the idea of it thirty years ago. I have someone now that I like a lot better than you anyway with a more compatible set of plumbing."

But the idea of it wouldn't kick out of his head.

"Like I said. I just wanted to talk." And he was the only one feeling a terrible itch to do exactly what he said he didn't want to do.

Try it out. Just a moment. Just to see if there was anything to it.

Tony poured himself another glass of wine, finished it, and then stood up. "Speaking of having someone, I should get back. I didn't plan on staying for this long."

No, Tony wasn't the only one with the itch but Steve could ignore it. He found it hard to believe that the man drove all the way to DC just to confront him. He wasn't so sure that the man was as over the idea as he was trying to pretend. He sat in a car the majority of the day for no reason?

"What did you want to talk about?" Steve looked confused. This was talking? What were they discussing? He didn't really understand what Tony intended with this.

He added, rather helpfully, "You've had too much wine to drive."

"I just wanted to know how you felt about it. You made it clear. We're on the same page with the whole ignoring..."

Why did he have to have the bluest eyes he'd ever seen? And why did his hair have to fall like that, like each piece had one job to fall a certain way and each one did like little soldiers?

Tony wasn't staring. See? Not staring at all.

"I've had three glasses. After six we can talk about maybe having too much wine. I'm fine. Good seeing you again, Cap."

They were on the same page but he still didn't see why Tony drove all the way down here to find out. Was it to rub how handsome he was in Steve's face? Or maybe to show him how he was missing out on companionship living all alone. Decked out in the suit, he really didn't fit in here, just like Steve really didn't fit in with all the technology in the Tower.

Tony was definitely staring. Steve noticed because he was staring. In the end, it didn't matter. It just wouldn't work. If Tony was around seventy years ago, things might have turned out differently.

"You know I have a phone right? You could have just called me," Steve said, standing up to show him the door. Three glasses might be pushing it a little but he was sure that Tony built up something of a tolerance over the years. "I can video chat too. I'm not completely out of the loop."

"Just because you have a phone doesn't mean it isn't rotary," Tony said, pulling down on his vest as he turned at the door. It was ajar now, he'd pulled it open himself to make a speedy get away that seemed to be getting away without him.

Tony didn't really feel the need to make too much fun of poor Steve. He was amazing with his ability to adapt. He was bright, over the norm for intelligence really, but it felt good to get a ribbing in.

It let him linger longer enough to insinuate himself into Steve's personal space to take a kiss from him that neither said that they wanted. It felt like chocolate melting on the tongue and Tony pulled away, turning abruptly on his heels. "Just testing. Okay, good night. Just throw out the rest of the wine if you don't want to finish it," he said, already moving down the steps across from Steve's door.

He scowled, he didn't have a rotary phone, thank you very much. SHIELD gave him a smartphone right out of the ice and told him to go to town. He wasn't afraid of poking around and figuring out how it worked. If it broke, that wasn't his problem.

Steve was annoyed enough that he didn't see the kiss coming until it was happening and then it was already over. It wasn't fair for Tony to say that he agreed with Steve when he went and did something like that. Just testing? Yeah right.

"Good night, Tony," Steve said, shutting the door and sighing as he listened to Tony walk down the steps. The man was never supposed to see the name on his arm. It just complicated things that didn't need complicated. He went and finished the wine. He might not be able to get drunk, but that didn't mean he didn't need a drink.

A lot of really crazy things happen when you've had the best kiss of your entire life at age 43. First, you stop being able to sleep. No, actually, that happened first. The vortex, the fall-- Tony hadn't gotten a decent night sleep in ages but he still blamed that on Steve and the fire that had gone right to his groin at that kiss. Second, you try to mollify your girlfriend, who you don't tell you're having an emotional and one sided affair with a man, with a giant rabbit. Third...you tell a terrorist exactly where you live.

Steve might be in Brooklyn, but the news that Tony's home in Malibu had blown up with the Engineer inside? Well it was all over the news.

It was all over the news. Steve caught the part where Tony threatened a terrorist too because he was one of those people that actually spent time watching it and catching up on current events. It was crucial considering how much he missed spending time in the ice. He didn't know what SHIELD was doing letting Tony get away with this nonsense.

Steve was on site, in uniform, at the house within two hours. Modern technology was fantastic. He told himself it was only because he was SHIELD and they were a team. It didn't have anything to do with the writing on his arm. There wasn't a lot he could do here. It was gone. There was nothing here. All of the terrorists were long gone. There were people scouring the water for Tony but he wasn't going to be there.

The itch he pretended didn't exist was still there and he was sure that was because the man was still alive. Where would he have gone? Steve stood in the wreckage and he could only wait while SHIELD tried to track him.

What little there was left of the house didn't give Steve any clues. Pepper was hysterical, SHIELD was on scene, the news was all over the place, but that night, as the stars came out and Steve was left shifting through absolutely nothing, if he stopped really hard and thought about it, he would be able to locate Tony.

He'd had a taste of him. Briefly. He could visualize him. Following the tingle in his arm would lead him to where Tony was, holed up in a shack in someone's backyard, badly injured but still trying to figure out what to do with the tools he had and the armor that was mostly deadweight.

Once everything died down, Steve was left crouching in the rubble. He didn't know Pepper before this and it was even worse that Tony barged into his house, then kissed him, when he already had someone. Why would he throw everything away just because there was a name on Steve's arm?

He didn't want to draw on their connection. It was a bad idea. However, with The Mandarin hunting Tony. He would need help and Steve was going to be one of his best options here. So he sighed and focused, boarding the jet again, then dropping out on his bike when the feeling got stronger.

Steve pulled up outside the house sometime in the middle of the night and headed to where the strongest sense of Tony was located. Then he knocked.

If it was that kid again, Tony was going to scream. He just didn't like kids, it had nothing to do with this one in particular and it wasn't personal.

He was sure that his ribs were broken. He knew he had a black eye and a split lip. Breathing hurt but if he curled up on the sofa with the armor as it was now, he might not want to wake back up again.

It was cold here. It was cold and he could see his breath as he turned off the torch to the soldering iron and went to get the door.

"If you don't have scotch then-- Rogers." Color him surprised.

"Were you going to tell anyone you were still alive?" he demanded. No hello, no greeting, just annoyance because the man couldn't be too bad off if he could answer his own door. The only reason for radio silence after your house was blown up was inability to get to a phone or coma, which basically tied to the first thing.

Steve wasn't happy. This was for plenty of reasons and not because of the writing on his arm. Okay, maybe it was a little because of the name, but only because he liked to keep his options open and if Tony was dead, well, that closed the door on it officially.

Just because he didn't want a relationship now, didn't mean he wouldn't change his mind later.

Oh,, so Steve got to decide everything? No. Tony scowled at the blond who....was still such an asshole. For a man to have his name written on his arm, he might have expected different treatment, but it was still all business.

"Who am I suppose to call when I can't get the armor working? It's better that they think I'm dead. It's better that the whole world does and-- How did you find me?"

Because if Captain America could track him, they might be on to him.

"Damn it, how long as SHIELD been tracking me? Be honest. You know I'll find the bug when I get back."

Well, Tony had a person right? Why would Steve treat him as anything but a friend in that case? Now that he met Pepper it was going to be even harder to convince him to act on the writing.

"Maybe Ms. Potts?" he offered, though it was mostly just to let Tony know that he knew about her. "Maybe any other member of the Avengers? People that can help you?"

He shook his head, "SHIELD wasn't tracking you. They're probably tracking my bike so they might know now, but I'm the one that found you." He tapped his arm, like that explained everything, "Are you going to let me in?"

Tony already didn't know what to do about Pepper. He couldn't remember the last time he was really with her. Sleeping in the same bed didn't count. The occasional sex didn't count. Tony was distracted.

Everything about Steve distracted him.

"Ditch your bike. I can't keep anyone safe if they know I'm okay. No. Actually bring it in here. I'll disable the tracking. I need the parts for my armor anyway."

He couldn't fall for someone because they had his name on their arm. He couldn't. Especially for Steve.

His bike was already a number of blocks down and around the corner. In a residential area it would take awhile just to narrow down which direction he went. He wasn't sure Tony was keeping anyone safe. What about the people in this neighborhood?

"I'll be back," he agreed, then headed back toward his bike. It would take him ten minutes before he was pulling into the shack with it and shutting it off.

"Whose house is this?" he asked when he dismounted. Once he got a good look at Tony, he helpfully added, "You should be in a hospital."

"Could you just shut up?" His head was aching, pulsing between his ears and he really needed to focus on this and not on Steve Rogers.

He might have trouble breathing and his whole body was aching and his face was raw and scabbed over but you know what? He was getting shit done. Alone. How be preferred it, thank you.

Tony crouched after Steve got the bike into the shed and immediately pulled off the cargo bags and riffled through them.

"Who's going to save you from yourself, Tony?" he asked, then turned away from the bike to inspect the suit that was sitting on the couch. It looked like a disaster and that would explain why Tony wasn't breathing easily. He could hear that much without any trouble and it didn't sit well with him.

Tony wasn't going to be alone if he dismantled Steve's bike for his suit. He leaned on one of the posts and watched the man go through his things. "Can I help you find something?"

"I need wiring. The reactor's supply isn't getting to the whole armor and I can't just hook myself into it." A back surge could kill him.

He let Steve see to cannibalizing his bike for him and he went back over the the workbench to finish what he was doing.

Even if he just kept looking up over to a blond hair. Tony but his lower lip.

"You didn't have to come looking for me, Cap."