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Charity Galas are a thing. A noble thing, Tony thinks. He has money, and he does all he can to help where his help might be needed – but there is no harm in convincing some other very rich people into giving some aid to the cause, whatever the cause may be, because some humility is good for the soul.
Or so Pepper tells him.
But Charity Galas sometimes are mind-numbingly boring. The Avengers make it easier, once they’re there. When they became a team, really became a team, and started to come to these events together, a whole new world opened before Tony’s eyes; No longer he’s juggling the attention of all the guests alone – Natasha and Clint are great at small talk in all forms, Bruce and Thor make everyone feel amazingly polite, and Steve, well, everyone likes Steve. How could they not?
Tony’s biased, sure, but isn’t that just a universal truth?
It’s just easier. They go around helping Tony get donations, all gracious and heroic and friendly, and when the party starts to dwindle down, they can just stop for a while and talk to each other, like actual friends.
That’s nice. Tony likes that part.
He’s usually the last one to get there, because it’s his name on the contracts, so he schmoozes more than anyone else, but it’s fine. He likes that, he likes seeing his friends, his team, huddled together in a quiet corner, laughing casually at some inner joke; Because when he walks towards them, it feels a lot like coming home. He’s already smiling long before he can actually hear what they’re saying, because they’re smiling and that alone fills him with happiness.
Today, when he walks closer, they’re snickering.
“Stark should have auctioned your old suit.” Natasha points out, voice full of amusement. “That would bring in a lot of money.”
“Can you not sell my things without my consent?” Steve complains, but it’s good-natured.
“Oh, careful, Nat, I’ve heard the Consent Speech before, it’s a very long one.” Bruce teases, lowering his head to hide his face, but his smile too wide to not be noticed.
“You too, Banner?” Steve jokes, raising his eyebrows and scoffing.
“How responsible of you, Doc.” Clint comments, and is dutifully ignored.
“Well, it’s for charity.” Natasha shrugs. “Just checking if Steve wouldn’t like to pitch in?”
“Not gonna lie, I only have like a hundred bucks on my wallet right now.”
“Tragic.” Natasha says, with no inflection whatsoever. “Doesn’t Tony give you money? Guess we got the favorite one wrong.”
“Hm, I don’t think we did.” Thor tilts his head, and he and Natasha share a devilish look.
Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh. “He does, though not without pestering me first.”
“Aw, you like it.” Clint jokes.
“Like what, you run his errands?” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “A hundred dollars for a coffee cup at three AM?”
Steve, unexpectedly, blushes. Just a little bit, but Tony knows because he can see his ears, and they turn an adorable shade of pink.
“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?” Natasha inquires, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Tony expects Steve to make a face, like he does when Clint tells a particularly crass joke, but instead, he chuckles and says, into his glass, “I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”
The smile slides right off Tony’s face.
The others groan loudly and make several gagging noises, amused, but Tony’s ears are ringing with shock, his stomach dropping so suddenly he almost feels like his entire body is about to collapse with how strongly his knees jerk mid-stride.
What.
He thinks of stepping back, but Natasha suddenly looks over Steve’s shoulder and spots him, and her smile widens – he can’t escape now, or else she’ll pull him back by force. Great.
“You don’t have to give money, you know that, right?” He says, trying to sound playful, as he steps into their little circle, pretending like he hadn’t listened more than the last few sentences in the conversation; No need to get knee-deep into this joke, he’ll just weasel his way out of this as soon as he deems it's unlikely Natasha will drag him back if he tries to leave.
Steve’s whole body jolts in surprise, and he chokes on a gulp of his drink, his ears suddenly going so red they look like they’re about to catch on fire. “Tony.”
“I promise, I’m not trying to steal any of your Army backpay – Rhodey would never forgive me.” Tony slaps him in the back, as if trying to help with his throat, and it’s too late when he realizes his hand is shaking. “You’re here for snacks and to look pretty, Rogers.”
“Whatever you say, Tony.” Steve smiles tightly, clearly flustered from being caught in the middle of this conversation, but it all vanishes so quickly when his insufferable instinct to be good, and nice, and helpful kicks back in, and his gaze turns genuinely earnest when he asks, “But are you sure we can’t be of any more help?”
A hundred dollars would make no difference at this point, but Tony would be lying if he said—
No. Bad Tony. Don’t do that.
“Steve.” Natasha drawls, exasperated, but Steve refuses to turn around to look at her, his eyes locked onto Tony’s – and it seems like a good idea to stare back, if only not to see the look his teammates are definitely sending them, he can feel them, no, thank you!
“You are helping.” Tony shifts his hand and pats him in the shoulder this time, maybe a little too close to his chest, maybe just enough to fill the firmness of his pecs, and it’s shamefully indulgent but he will go with totally worth it. “Believe it or not, just the presence of Captain America in the room makes everyone’s wallet much lighter!”
“But every little bit helps, right?” Clint smiles, teeth sharp. “So an extra hundred doesn’t count?”
For christ’s sake, Barton!
“You wish, Birdbrain.” Tony throws him a smug look, and he desperately wishes he had brought his sunglasses. He has to settle for the hope Natasha is satisfied with his torment, and barely waits a second to turn around and begin to step back from the group. “You can’t afford me!”
“It’s not for me!” Clint says loudly behind him, but Tony is so determined to walk away not even the entire Avengers team could stop him.
It was a joke. Tony knows that. It obviously was a joke.
Steve, paying him a hundred bucks for a kiss? That’s funny. It is! Steve is much more of a bastard than most people would give him credit for, and despite what you might think, these kinds of comments are not unusual in the Tower. Every single one of the Avengers has a bit of a money problem, it seems, thankfully Tony has a lot of it – though he will be nice and admit that Bruce is very responsible when he wants to be. But the others? Fiends, heathens. Even Steve. In fact, Steve might be one of the worst, and Tony’s thankful Steve keeps his bets confined to their little band of misfits, or else he’d be completely bankrupt by now, from betting on every single team playing against the Yankees out of pure spite.
He’s glad he hasn’t been in a casino for years now. He can’t imagine what kind of chaos his team could create if presented with rigged slot machines.
Not that Tony would have minded. Kissing Steve, he means. Well – that’s, that’s the kicker, isn’t it? Tony’s an idiot, and Steve Rogers’ even jokingly implying he would kiss him is enough to have him second-guessing every interaction they’ve had since the first time they met. It’s weird, how – how easily flustered Tony can get at the mere indication that Steve might return his feelings.
Problem is, Tony is very obvious. He knows that. He knows because all the others make it their business to pointing it out to him, and they intentionally try to get Tony into situations where they can embarrass him in front of Steve.
And Rhodey doesn’t believe him when he says he’s the emotionally mature one in the group. Tony finds that very unfair of him.
Point is… It’s a joke. It’s just a joke. It was funny, and now we can move on.
Or rather, he would, if his team would let him.
The Villain of the Week – not an award, just a simple description for the current occupational hazard – is genuinely not a big deal. Calls himself… something, Tony didn’t quite catch it because he’d been so distracted by the minions he’s unleashed, little things that look like Roombas shooting lasers all over the city. Not difficult to beat, but extremely annoying.
Tony is allowed to critique the guy’s tech, he’s an expert on it, and even basic juniors would understand that the point of making a thousand tiny robots is to have them act overwhelming, not scattering around like a rat infestation. This is New York. They have enough of those already.
“This guy clearly hasn’t done his homework.” Tony grumbles, but it’s futile, because his comms are on, which means literally everyone in the team heard that. Including Mr. No-Chatter-On-Comms.
“Iron Man, now is not the time to complain about the enemy’s work ethic.” Steve warns him, with not a single heave in his breath, though it sounds like he’s smashing his shield on a bunch of the tiny robots all at once from the noise in the background.
“I bet that if we let the rats deal with this they would.” Tony comments.
“What?” The others ask, baffled.
“I’m just saying, it seems like they’re trying to escape using the sewers, I say we let them and then the rats will deal with this for us.”
Not everyone appreciates Tony’s logic, sadly.
“Rogers.” Natasha says, totally serious. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you kiss Stark right now and shut him up.”
“Romanoff!” Steve yells, and Tony is almost glad he does because it distracts from the blast of his repulsor accidentally going too far and hitting a trashcan, and he can blame it on Steve for startling him. Which he probably will have to do, as Clint is right there, and the trashcan almost falls on him when it’s coming down from the air.
“Argh! Stark!” Clint yells too, dodging the trash quickly, and not even bothering to be subtle when he can literally look across the street and give Tony a disgruntled face.
“Sorry!” Tony tells him.
“Cap.” Clint says on comms, staring at Tony, an evil grin spreading across his face. “Double that if you can convince him to leave!”
“Why would I leave in the middle of battle!”
Even from a distance, Clint’s eyebrow waggle is very clear.
“Alright, quiet, before you make you fearless leader die of embarrassment.” Tony says, before Steve can say anything else – Tony can already hear him sucking in a long, hard breath, which means that whatever follows would not be good.
“Iron Man.” He says instead, through gritted teeth. Great, Tony thinks, now he’s angry.
“Don’t mind them, Cap.” Tony appeases. “And I’m putting that trashcan on your paycheck, Barton.”
“Aw, c’mon!”
Steve doesn’t say anything back.
But Tony swears the sound of his shield whacking away the Roombas gets even louder.
Steve gets weird in the following days. Sometimes Steve gets weird for all sorts of reasons, but this time, Tony is having a hard time believing it’s not his fault.
They’ve had this conversation – this fight – before, when Tony simply assumes everything is his fault, and so does Steve, and Steve refuses to get help, and Tony refuses to not be allowed to help. It’s nothing new; They might be superheroes, but the position doesn’t come without some sort of trauma as pre-requisite. He knows that. And he knows, on some level, that Steve might just be going through some rough days that are completely personal and Tony should not interfere. If Steve wants to talk to him, he will.
That doesn’t stop him from worrying about it, though.
“Is everything alright?” Thor asks him, in a gentle tone, when he finds Tony drumming his fingers around a cup of coffee in the dim kitchen at almost midnight.
Tony lets out a harsh breath. “Just—” he gestures vaguely. “Worried.”
Thor pauses, and then, with surprising insight, says, “About the Captain, I assume.”
“Well, you noticed too.” Tony grumbles, almost childishly. He knows why Thor is assuming – correctly – this is about Steve, because they all know, but Tony is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed Steve is off, somehow.
“It is very obvious.” Thor replies, with a sharp edge of amusement.
“I can’t help if he won’t talk to me.”
“I think you help more than you think, Stark.”
Tony throws him an unimpressed look.
Thor makes a disbelieving noise “I bet you a hundred dollars the Captain would really appreciate… your help.”
“Do you even know how much a hundred dollars is worth?” Tony asks, before he can remember that absolutely is not the point. “Also, what are you implying here, Point Break?”
“Uh, nothing.” Thor leans back, looking away, not convincing at all. “Well, you know, as our Captain’s trusted friend, I imagined you could help him with his troubles better than most.”
“Hard to do that when he won’t even tell me what his troubles are.” Tony complains.
Thor makes a pause. “Yes, I imagine it is. If he were to be honest, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“It’ll be fine.” Tony decides, determined to push through this with dignity. “He’ll get over it. I’ll get over it. It’s – good.”
Nevermind the fact that all Steve has to do is to get over being embarrassed about a joke.
Tony has to get over being head over heels with the guy.
He’s tried.
He knows it doesn’t work.
Tony hides in the workshop. It’s a tried-and-true method, familiar and comforting, and might be the only thing stopping Tony from doing something he will regret, like confronting Steve about why he’s so uncomfortable at the mere idea of kissing Tony. Steve is not homophobic, Tony knows, because he’s in a team with Natasha, Thor, and Tony, who are all very open about their sexualities, but some kind of bad thing must be running through his brain, because if that’s not the cause of his distress, then what is?
Tony speculates, finds no conclusion, and then speculates some more. After the third repeat, he decides this is getting him nowhere, and making a new armor from scratch is a far more productive way to spend his time.
That’s when Steve shows up. Of course. Steve always shows up when Tony is not ready – not ready to believe he’s alive, not ready to be in a team, not ready to fall in love. And Steve is always there, pushing his limits, not even knowing he’s doing it.
The workshop door opens, and when Tony turns, Steve is there.
And Tony’s stupid heart flutters.
“Hey, Cap.” Tony greets, a little breathless.
“Hey.” Steve replies, looking a little sheepish. “Am I bothering you?”
“No, no.” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Make yourself at home. Need anything?”
Steve shrugs, stiff. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Doing… fine.” Tony says, just as stiff. “You?”
Steve nods, and the conversation dies so awkwardly it’s nearly painful. It’s ridiculous, the situation they’re in – long gone are the days where they used to be at each other’s throats, actually, Steve is now his friend, one of his best friends, actually, and a joke about them kissing should not be enough to destroy the bond they’ve build over the past few years together.
Tony’s face must make some sort of funny expression, because something shifts in the air. Like he can read Tony’s thoughts, Steve seems to let go of the tension he’s holding in his shoulders when he suddenly chuckles, dragging his hand on his nape like a shy teenager about to ask his date to prom.
Tony stares, unsure of what’s happening.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Steve teases, eyes lighting up with amusement.
“Wow, penny?” Tony balks. “I’m hurt, didn’t think the Stark Charm was something that depreciated so fast.”
“What?” Steve frowns.
“I thought you’d gotten the hang of modern economics, big guy.” Tony tries, gauging Steve’s reaction, trying desperately to find the source of this unease between them.
Like clockwork, Steve’s expression turns more serious. “Can we not do this now? At least… when it’s just the two of us?”
Helpless, Tony shrugs. “You started, Cap.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you realize I didn’t mean to start it.” Steve walks closer, slowly, cautiously. As if he’s trying not to startle Tony. “Natasha was just…”
“Pulling your leg? I got that.” Tony reassures. “You’re a fun guy to tease, Steve.”
“Yeah, you’d think that.”
“But we really should cut that short if it’s bothering you so much.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, it does, but not for the reasons you think.”
“What exactly is the reason I think?” Tony says, exasperated. “I get it, you’re uncomfortable. And because I am an adult, and I am very respectful, I won’t ask why it makes you uncomfortable, even though I already know it’s because you’re overwhelmed by my amazing looks, brains, and—"
“Tony.” Steve reprimands.
“Sorry, habit, shutting up now.” Tony stops. “I promise. I’ll talk to the team.”
He wants to ask why it bothers Steve, that’s not a lie, but he won’t. And he also can’t figure out on his own, so even if it kills him, there’s only one option to choose – he has to drop it. Steve is here; Tony has to trust that the worst part is over, that Steve is done hiding, and they hopefully can go back to normalcy and Tony can return to ignoring his desire of doing something really ridiculous like holding Steve’s hand.
But then, Steve pushes.
Because that’s what he does.
He’s there, and he pushes. And even if he isn’t ready, Tony is helpless but to follow.
“That night, at the Gala.” Steve says, as he steps impossibly close, hovering over Tony while he sits on the workbench. “I didn’t know you were listening.”
Tony swallows dry. “Yeah, I got that. So?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I knew you were there.” Steve admits. “That’s not how I wanted to tell you.”
Is he—
“Tell me what?”
“Are you really gonna make me say it?”
Wait—
“Well, I need a little more info than that, Steve, because what it sounds like you’re trying so say—”
“I’m trying to say I want to kiss you.” Steve interrupts, like he always does, infuriating, daring, so openly honest and so, so earnest that Tony feels it all the way down to his bones, it hits into his chest like a blow, pushing, pushing, like Tony’s being thrown off a cliff, like he’s learning to fly again. “No money involved.”
Oh.
That’s—
Oh.
“Not a joke?” Tony asks, breathless.
“Not a joke.”
“Really?”
Steve’s eyebrows pinch together. “You could sound a little less surprised.”
“I really couldn’t.” Tony says, and it shocks even him how he sounds like he’s laughing. He’s really losing it. “I – you – you were freaking out—”
“I didn’t want this to be a joke—” Steve complains, frustrated. “And you would make it worse.”
“I wouldn’t—” Tony gets up, annoyed, and their faces are suddenly so close.
“You would—"
“But you acted like there was something wrong with kissing me—”
“For money? Yes! You’re not a—”
“I most definitely am—”
“And I want to…” Steve stops suddenly, nervously. “I don’t want this to be a… what do you call it? A fling. I want – something more.”
Steve Rogers. Always pushing.
Tony Stark. Always pushing back.
“You can have anything you want from me, Rogers.” Tony smiles, holding Steve’s hand, and it’s so, so good to mean it. “For you? Free of charge.”
Next time Villain of the Week – again, not a title – shows up and they win, because of course they would, it’s a little different.
When Tony lands next to Steve after the battle and lifts his helmet, ready to say an awful joke, Steve does kiss him to shut him up.
“Mom and Dad are being gross.” Clint warns on comms, to the sound of Thor’s boisterous laugh.
“I will give you all the money in my wallet if you can just take your flirting somewhere else.” Bruce offers, from where he’s sitting in flimsy shorts and a shock blanket around himself, after the green has seeped away from his skin.
“I’m afraid you have no wallet now, Dr. Banner.” Steve jokes, smiling wide, ears still pink, still embarrassed, but a good kind of embarrassed now. “And this isn’t flirting.”
“Because it’s much grosser than that.” Tony agrees, entirely too satisfied. “It’s—”
“If you say love, I’ll destroy every coffee machine in the Tower.” Natasha threatens, through comms.
“I was going to say it’s my get-rich-quick scheme, but now you ruined it.” Tony jokes, and from the way Steve laughs, it sounds like it was the best joke in the world.