TITLE:
Withdrawal Symptoms
Iron Man (movie) and comic-verse mix
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Steve/Tony
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by
people with a lot more money
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can do. Any
mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved
Tony had had a spectacularly bad morning.
It had started out with his coffee machine dying on him. He had stood in front
of the hideously expensive, state-of-the-art machine and cursed it quite
colorfully. Still no coffee. With his required morning
coffee quota badly lacking, he had opened his emails with the Extremis – which
had been a mistake. He had nearly had a yelling fit.
Idiots! Why had he hired Callahan anyway? The man was the chief engineer and
supposed to know better, but he had overlooked the quite obvious design flaw
for the VTOL engine the Airforce was getting for a healthy sum of money. Tony
had written a scathing reply, sent back all designs and slammed them onto the
man’s virtual desk. He had added ‘Engineering 101’ out of spite.
Callahan would have a fit in return, probably demand an appointment or even
just storm into his office, brandishing his precious designs, and Tony would
have to listen to the asshole rant. The man couldn’t accept when he made
mistakes. He also couldn’t accept that his boss was a genius in his own rights.
Damn, what had made him hire the man? And keep him this long?
Okay, so he was good, but he was also a bastard.
Tony drummed his fingers onto the glass table top. Callahan was too much like
himself. That’s why they clashed.
A cup of coffee appeared in his line of view and he glared at Pepper. “What
took you so long?”
“You’re welcome,” the replied dryly.
Tony inhaled the hot, strong liquid, feeling his nerves settle as the bitter
taste soothed his addiction.
“You received a call from Dr. Callahan,” she said.
Tony checked his answering machine. Yes, there it was. He had apparently
ignored it instinctively.
“Tell him he knows what to do. I already told him.”
Pepper smiled thinly. “He’s ready to argue that point.”
“Let him. He’ll bring down the whole Airforce with his designs.”
Tony sent an email to the man while he spoke, detailing again – actually
copying from his first mail – what was wrong with the design. If Callahan
didn’t correct it, Tony would and Callahan was off the design team.
Pepper just watched him curiously, then shook her
head. “You have a lunch date at noon.”
“Cancel.”
“No.”
Tony frowned at her. Pepper’s face was set into her ‘personal assistant will
kick your ass’ expression.
“You already cancelled twice. This is important, Tony.”
He sighed. “All right. Where?”
“The Masa.”
He rolled his eyes. The Masa was a very exclusive restaurant in the
Tony got up and walked over to the selection of suits he kept for such uppity
pretence dinners. Pepper shook her head at his first choice, got the deep black
jacket, crisp white shirt, and charcoal tie with the single golden stripe
across, and shooed him to change.
“I’m old enough to dress myself, Potts.”
She raised her eyebrows and looked at the ensemble he ha chosen.
“What?” Tony asked, slightly piqued. “It’s okay!”
“Only if you’re colorblind.”
“I’ve dressed myself for a very long time, unless…” he put a leer into
it, “ you want to dress me.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“There’d be more up than just my hopes.”
She smiled patiently. “Your date is in twenty minutes. Get dressed. Happy is
waiting.”
With that she turned and left the office.
Tony smiled a little, then did just that.
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Lunch wasn’t spectacular; it was close to bad.
It was a matter of smiling, charming the lunch date, and trying not to fall
face first into his food because of boredom. Keith Kolmar liked to hear himself
talk. He also liked to pretend he was the most desirably bachelor on God’s
earth and had the tact of an anvil. He had the guts to actually try flirting
with Tony. Not that he was Tony’s type. Even if he hadn’t been in a committed
relationship with Steve Rogers – and his past dates would call him a liar and
unable to commit –
He simply didn’t react to the blatantly obvious come-ons, though he laid on the
charm a little more just to get the man to sign the papers they had come here
to discuss.
“My hero,” Pepper commented dryly as he told her of the lunch date.
“Superhero,” he teased.
“Don’t overdo it. You got him to sign one contract, Tony.”
“You want me to sell myself, too?” he asked sarcastically.
“My opinion never stopped you in the past.”
“Harsh, Potts. Harsh. But my
past ended when I got this,” he gestured at the arc reactor underneath his
shirt, well-covered no to give him away.
“If you really wanted to, you’d find a way around it,” Pepper only said, face
completely straight.
She took the signed papers and walked off.
Tony undid the tie and collapsed into his chair. Yes, maybe. She had a point.
Had he wanted to, he would have found a kind of fake human skin cover or
something. He might even have claimed it as a trophy. Everyone knew of
But he hadn’t.
Huh.
Tony glanced at his watch. The day was only half over and he was already beyond
the point of total misery.
When Callahan called again, Tony knew he was in hell.
“Don’t take your mood out on me,” Pepper told him when that particular fight
was over. She had walked in on him pacing in front of his desk, yelling at his
chief engineer via Extremis, and had just waited him out. “Call
Steve. Or better yet: fly to DC and stay with him. No one here needs
you.”
Tony glared at her. “After the fiasco with Callahan? I
am needed, Potts, because those airheads down in R&D seem to think VTOL was
designed for shooting planes into the air and then crashing them!”
“Tony… call Steve.”
“He’s busy,” he answered coolly.
“How do you know? Did you call?”
“What are you? My counselor?”
“I’m your personal assistant, Mr. Stark. As that I advise you to call
Steve.”
“I won’t, so stop interfering.”
Pepper’s face was a mask of polite anger. Her eyes flashed and Tony was once
again reminded that the hair color wasn’t fake. Pepper
Potts was a red-head and she was barely keeping control.
She gave him a cool look. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark.”
Okay, frosty bordering on
“That would be all Ms. Potts.”
She left and Tony could have sworn she was leaving icicles behind.
Tony flipped through the Manolo Blahniks online, found a pair Pepper’s size who had just come out and were completely ‘in’, and ordered
a pair from the West 54th boutique. Delivery in an hour, to
Pepper personally.
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The incredibly bad day dragged on and Tony’s mood went from really bad to
abysmally worse.
Pepper had sent him a brief mail, telling him thank you for the shoes, they fit
perfectly, but she couldn’t be bought with shoes. He had mailed back that he
would never dream of buying her. She should consider them a gift, a sign of his
appreciation for her hard work. The mail coming back had been quite…
unprintable and had made him laugh.
It had been the highlight of his until then truly miserable day.
He finally fled the office and let Happy drive him
home. He holed up in the workshop, put up the ‘Do Not Disturb Or Else’ sign – which almost all Avengers clearly respected
after the last incident when someone had disturbed Tony, and went to work on
the suit.
Working with the armor was soothing. Working with Jarvis was balm on his
strained nerves – even if the AI was at his most sarcastic. Tony tested the new
repulsors, went over ideas and designs with Jarvis, went back to the drawing
board on a deflector he had been thinking about, and generally lost himself in
the familiarity of the armor.
Pepper’s words echoed in his mind.
He didn’t miss Steve.
No way was he missing Steve.
The man had been gone for three days on some meet and greet thing Fury had
commandeered him to attend. Captain
No, Tony wasn’t missing him. He wasn’t dependent on Steve Rogers. He wouldn’t
call him like some homesick teenager and be happy to hear his voice. He had
done fine without him.
Yeah, right, part of his brain sneered. You did fantastic. Just face
it. You’re a sap and you want him back.
Tony slept in the workshop because this was where he spent most of his time and
fell asleep. He didn’t sleep there because he missed the second person in his
bed; Steve. He had had ‘persons’ in his bed before, all kinds of them. Hopeful
women, the occasional man, the giggly party girls with the great bodies and the
less than stellar IQ, even one or two potential serious partnerships. Nothing
had worked out. Steve had worked. Steve was still working after nearly a year. It
was frightening and amazing in one.
He found himself dozing on the couch for the same reason. He didn’t avoid the
other Avengers, even if Peter claimed he was. He had overheard the younger man
saying so over breakfast when he had just gotten himself coffee.
Steve wasn’t his reason for living.
-- Tony had survived until the day he had met Steve Rogers quite well. But it
had been survival, not living.
Steve wasn’t his anchor.
-- Steve was the most grounded person Tony had ever met. In the beginning he
had caught himself looking at Steve’s feet, wondering if he also grew roots.
Steve was his lover.
-- And it was great and wonderful and he relaxed around him and he could be
himself and there was this ease between them and…
Tony stopped his train of thought, scrubbing a hand over his face. It left dark
smears.
Steve Rogers had become part of his life so quickly and completely, it should
be scary.
It was and it wasn’t. It was because it was like an addiction and Tony knew he
wouldn’t be able to kick it. It wasn’t because Steve was so right for him,
completed something inside him that had been curled up in a corner like a
wounded animal. Steve was balm on his soul. He was… Steve.
Tony groaned and let his head fall onto his arms on the table.
“I’m such a sap!” he groaned.
“I beg your pardon?” Jarvis asked.
Another groan. “I’m not some fourteen year old girl!”
Jarvis was silent for a very long second, showing how perplexed the AI was. “Definitely not, sir. According to my scans you’re neither
fourteen, nor a girl.”
Tony grimaced. “Thank you, Jarvis.”
“Glad to be of assistance. May I ask what brought that on, sir?”
“Just feeling pathetic.”
“I see.”
Tony sighed. Not that the AI could actually understand, but Jarvis knew how to
make it sound like he did.
“May I ask why, sir?”
He let his head sink down again. He was a fourteen year old girl. He missed
Steve.
“You could call him,” Jarvis offered.
Tony realized he had spoken out loud. Great!
“I’m not that desperate!” Stark snapped.
“I didn’t imply that, sir,” was the reserved answer.
“You did!”
“I would never dare to, sir.”
“I’m not that pathetic, okay? I don’t have to call my… my…. I don’t have to
call Steve and make small talk and kissy noises!” Tony went on, anger rising.
“He’ll be back in two days! I’m not some kind of weepy girl!”
“Of course not, sir.”
Tony slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself up, anger rising. He
wasn’t the woman in this relationship. He wasn’t clingy and needy. He was
stronger than that. Needing someone wasn’t a weakness and it didn’t make him
soft. It was just…
The others missed Steve, too. He knew it. They just missed him as a team leader
and comrade and friend. None of them were sleeping with Steve Rogers – they
better not! – and Tony couldn’t go to any of them to
talk about his feeling of loneliness. He had never confessed to any weakness
before. Not when he had been simply a very rich bastard with an alcohol
problem; not when he had had an arc reactor keeping him alive; not when the
Extremis had changed him so completely, but had kept the reactor in place. Tony
had never talked with anyone before Steve, and Steve now knew him better than
even Rhodey or Pepper.
“Fucking hell!” he hissed.
Without thinking he reached out with the Extremis to call his armor, the
underarmor already flowing out of his skin. He tore off his work clothes and
exhaled in relief when the weight of the armor closed around him. The HUD lit
up, the status a perfect 100 %, and without further thoughts he powered up the
propulsion system.
“If anyone calls, I’m unavailable,” he growled.
“I’ll let them know, sir,” Jarvis answered calmly.
Iron Man shot out of the mansion’s basement workshop, straight into the sky. He
didn’t care where he went, as long as he could go high and fast, working off
his frustration.
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Steve came home late in the evening. The return had taken longer than expected
since Senator Quimby had delayed them. Fury had snarled and growled something
under his breath, chewing on his cigar until it was a wet mess, but at least
the whole promotion tour had helped. Steve was glad to be finally home. As much
as he was patriotic and would do everything for his country, even hold
recruitment speeches for SHIELD, shake hands with senators and make nice with
potential money givers, there was a limit.
It had been reached.
The mansion was mostly silent. Peter was busy grading papers, MJ was watching a
movie and apparently studying the lead actress, and Luke Cage was dozing on the
second couch. Of Aunt May there was no sign, so he suspected she was in her
room.
“Steve!” MJ had seen him first and had jumped up.
Steve found himself with an armful of redhead.
“I’m so glad you’re home!”
She hugged him tightly.
“Uh, yeah, hi… It’s good to be home. Uhm, MJ, are you okay?”
“I am now.”
Peter was looking at him with a clear expression of relief. “Man, am I glad to
see you here at last.”
Hopefully the other wouldn’t want to hug him, too, because he looked like it. What
was going on here?
“Something happen?” Steve asked.
He had kept himself up to date on Avengers matters, but there had been nothing
grand happening. Spider-Man had saved several people out of a burning building,
but no Avengers mission had come up.
“Tony happened,” Luke rumbled without opening his eyes.
Steve felt alarm run through him. “What did he do?”
“Let’s say we’re all glad you’re home and if you’re looking for him, try his
usual haunts. You might want to duck the low-flying welders, metal parts,
curses and death glares.”
“What?!”
MJ shot Luke a dark look. “What Luke wants to say is that Tony’s been kind of…
moody in the past few days. We tried to get him to call you or even go to
“Oh.”
Steve was a little speechless. Tony had… missed him? And wait a minute! The
others had tried to get Tony to call him? That meant…
“Hey, we tried to appease him with coffee, new gadgets, liquid caffeine feeds,
and Dr. Strange even offered to magick him to Washington,” Peter piped up. “No
chance. He’s prickly as hell and just as short-tempered. Especially after the
coffee machine went up in smoke two days ago right around his breakfast time. I
think he went through early morning withdrawal, made two of his head scientists
cry before nine a.m., and buried himself in his workshop ever since.”
“Uh…”
“Pepper’s keeping him caffeinated. I think she’s the only one who can face his
wrath. He was close to getting into a fight with
Steve felt his head reeling.
“Go, Cap,” Luke said, cracking an eye open. “You’ll never hear me say this
again, but you’re good for him. I don’t know how long you two have had this…
little arrangement, but I guess not long enough for him to last through that
kind of withdrawal.”
He smirked knowingly.
Steve realized all of a sudden that his friends knew exactly about the nature
of his and Tony’s relationship. They hadn’t really consciously decided to keep
it a secret, but Tony was very private when it came to himself, so Steve had
taken his lead from there.
“Go.” MJ gave him a little push.
Steve went, still a little off-kilter from the knowledge that a) they knew, b)
Tony was apparently a mess, c) they knew and… approved? and
d)… Tony truly had missed him.
A smile played over his lips.
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The workshop was the usual chaos. Controlled chaos, true, because Tony knew
exactly where what was.
The armor was hanging from iron chains, the upper part
completely assembled and hooked up to the maintenance unit. The lower part was
in pieces on the work bench. Both boots were standing upright, spread apart
like Tony was doing an autopsy, and the holographic design table showed the
parts in clear lines. Tony was fiddling with something small on one boot. Dummy
had rolled over, lending a helping… arm.
Steve used his entrance code to gain entrance and walked around a stack of
metal parts that he couldn’t identify.
Tony was… well, not a mess, but he was a bit worse for wear. The goatee and
mustache now had three-day-beard company, the white
t-shirt was stained with grime, oil and sweat, the work pants looked like they
had seen better days. Steve felt his eyes fall on the smooth skin and clearly
defined muscles of Tony’s arms, running along the sleek lines of his back, the
well-defined ass…
Geez, okay, he had missed the man as well! He was already looking him up! He
was how old? Twenty-seven? He should be out of the
hormone driven teenager years craze by now. Then again, he was looking at Tony
Stark. The man was pure sex on legs.
“Hey, Tony,” he said casually, trying to dial down the desire he felt flaring
inside him.
The reaction from Stark was far from casual. Tony froze, then
straightened so abruptly Steve thought he heard his spine crack, and turned. Dark
eyes widened and Steve could read the sleepless nights in them. The rings under
his eyes that looked more like bruises were another giveaway.
“You’re back,” Tony stated, voice hoarse.
“Yeah. Finally. Took a bit longer.”
Steve closed the distance as Tony rose from his chair. “Miss me?”
He didn’t know why that had slipped out, but it had, and it had an immediate
reaction. Steve found himself with an armful of Tony, kissing the living
daylights out of him. The scrape of stubble, the smell of Tony, the strength in the deceptively slender frame… he had missed
it, no doubt about it.
“Okay,” he whispered when they parted, feeling slightly breathless. “That
answers that question.”
“It was a stupid question,” Tony rasped.
Steve framed the unshaven face and wiped at a smear with his thumb. “You look
terrible.”
“I’ll have you know, I always look cool and suave. Read the papers.”
“Unless you haven’t shaved or showered in three days.”
“I showered this morning.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Tony drew him into another kiss, less desperate this time, and Steve shivered
at the intensity. Tony’s fingers curled around the waist band of his jeans and
held on tight.
“How about we take this upstairs? And you shower?” Steve suggested after they
had parted.
“Here goes my fantasy of making out in the workshop.”
“We can talk about that fantasy another time,” Steve replied, tugging Tony
toward the stairs. “Shower first.”
“Yes, Mom.”
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Tony had fallen asleep. More or less throughout kissing
Steve. They had been making out on the bed when Stark had surrendered to
his exhaustion.
Steve watched the man next to him with a fond smile, fingers playing through
the longish hair, wrapping strands around his fingers and letting them slide
through again. Tony’s face was more relaxed in sleep than it was when he had
seen him in the workshop. The harsh lines put there from next to no sleep, as
well as the dark rings under his eyes, would need time to fade.
They hadn’t talked.
Maybe they wouldn’t.
Tony was, after all, a private man when it came to his emotions. He opened up
sometimes, and then it all poured out, almost smothering Steve with the
intensity of Tony’s feelings.
They were in their room. Actually, it was Tony’s room, Tony’s bed, but Steve
had spent so much time here in the past year, it was theirs. His
own room was all but abandoned, a token room at best. Now that the
others knew – and had apparently known for some time, at least Peter and MJ had
– Steve thought about giving up on his room completely and simply getting all
his stuff in here.
Tony sighed in his sleep and Steve smiled, running gentle caresses over the
man’s neck and shoulder blades. Tony had thrown an arm over Steve’s waist, his
head was halfway between his shoulder and his chest, and he seemed to be
comfortable. Steve was for sure.
So Tony had missed him. Enough to fall into the abusive
pattern of little to no sleep, too much coffee, and working himself into the
ground.
Steve knew he couldn’t change Tony just because he loved him, just because he
was Captain
And he would.
No one had disturbed them. The other Avengers had known to leave the two men
alone, to let Tony catch up on sleep and Steve be with
him. Should Fury or anyone else call, they would deal with it. Captain
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Tony roused three hours later and Steve, who had dozed off, was woken by hands
caressing his stomach underneath his t-shirt. He blinked his eyes open and met
the mischievous ones of Tony Stark. Before he could say something, the other
man kissed him, the hand sliding under the sweat pants’ waist band.
Now there was a very clear come-on.
“No coffee?” Steve teased, lips moving against lips.
Tony smirked. “Morning sex is much better than coffee as a get-me-upper.”
“Hm, but I’d erase it. Got a reputation to lose.”
Steve felt his brain pool in his groin as Tony leisurely stroked him. The
kisses grew more sloppy.
“I think your reputation was proven again in the last few days. You scared the
others.”
Tony laughed, sounding breathless and more than a little aroused. Could be because Steve was by now using his knowledge of hot spots
to drive the other man crazy.
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
“Oh.”
Steve wasn’t sure whether this referred to the past week or the fact that he
was now sliding his hand over a very prominent bulge. He went with the latter.
Pinning Tony down onto the mattress he pushed the t-shirt up, the pants down,
and when he trailed wet kisses down the flat stomach to the prominent erection,
Tony gave a deep groan of need and encouragement. Steve didn’t need more. Tony
pushed himself up on his elbows, watching him. Steve grinned up at his lover,
then took the hardness into one hand and drew his tongue over the hot length.
Tony gave a hiss of appreciation. The move had caught him by surprise and his
eyes dilated a little as Steve continued to use his tongue and lips to pay
attention to him.
"Damn, Steve…" Stark groaned.
He decided to up the ante and closed his lips over the glistening head,
suckling gently.
Tony gasped, hips twitching up, the dark eyes reflecting the growing need. Steve
smiled to himself and paid undivided attention to what he was doing. He wasn't
as skilled as his lover, who seemed to have mastered all forms of sexual
entertainment, but he knew what he was doing, and he knew from the growing
tension and soft encouragement that Tony was appreciating this very, very much.
"Close," Tony groaned. "Steve…"
He squeezed the hard length and fondled the balls, licking and suckling. His
tongue flicked against the erection and had his lover moan loudly. Tony's feet
pushed into the mattress as he cried out, coming suddenly,
and Steve drew back. He licked off the few specks on his lips, but swallowing
it all had never been his forte.
"Oh hell," Tony whispered. "Damn."
“Better than coffee?” Steve teased.
He had closed his hand around the deflating erection, playing with it, making
Tony twitch. It was like gentle torture and when his lover groaned and batted
at his hand, he pulled back, grinning. He kissed him instead, a move that was
very much appreciated.
“I don’t think you’ll ever make it to the level of ‘better than coffee’,” Tony
said breathlessly, hands already busy again on Steve’s body, “but I’m willing
to let you try again and again.”
Steve grinned. “I’m up for the challenge.”
Tony’s hand found his hardness. “You sure are.”
The blond rolled his eyes, but his reply was cut off when Tony tugged and
twisted a little, making him groan. Damn, Stark was good. Really
good.
Tony rolled them around, using Steve pliancy to his advantage. Normally
Pleasure ripped through him as Tony worked his magic with his mouth and lips
and his throat, and Steve cried out, trying to remember what breathing was all
about. It was hard. Tony was just that good. Steve lost all sense of reality as
he cried out incoherently, release hitting him like a tidal wave. When he could
think clearly again, panting harshly, he became aware of his lover placing a
light kiss on his lips, a burning expression of sheer, sated pleasure on his
features.
Steve wrapped his arms around him and kept Tony from getting up. The other man
didn’t put up much of a fight. He let himself sink down next to Steve, humming,
sounding pleased.
“You look incredible when you come,” Tony said softly when Steve remarked on
that pleased expression.
He felt his face heat up. Tony grinned, but it was a soft grin, full of
pleasure.
“You do.” Tony rubbed a hand over Steve’s chest. “Perfect.”
Steve felt the arc reactor pressed against his side, a clear difference to the
warm human skin, but it was so much Tony, he was so used to it, he couldn’t
imagine not feeling it.
“I’m not perfect,” he argued without heat.
“Super-Soldier ring a bell?”
Steve sighed and rolled them around to look into Tony’s eyes. The dark-haired
man smiled, wrapped a hand around Steve’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.
“You’re perfect to me,” Stark murmured.
“Same here.”
He snorted a little. “Yeah, right.”
Steve brushed a flat hand over the arc reactor and let his fingers play around
the almost seamless edge. It was a weird feeling, but he had grown used to it
quite quickly.
“You are. For me.”
Tony chuckled and buried his face against Steve’s neck. “We’re two very messed up people, hm?”
“Talk about yourself, Stark. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Right. Want me to count the issues you have?”
Steve gently bit one ear. “You’d win that contest.”
“Sure. I always win.” There was the old smugness again. “So…
how about coffee now?”
Steve chuckled and reluctantly got up. Tony followed, looking a lot better than
yesterday, but still in need of more rest. Steve would make sure he got it.
They showered – together this time and predictably it took a while. Steve
hadn’t been able to resist the temptation that was Tony Stark. He had slid into
him with Tony flat against the cool tiles, groaning his approval and demanding
more.
When they finally left their little haven, it was already past lunch time. The
whole place looked empty.
“Jarvis? Anyone around?” Tony
asked as he nursed his precious cup of coffee.
“Mrs. May Parker has left to go shopping,” the AI told him calmly. “Mr. Cage is
in the work-out room, Mr. Parker is at school, Mrs.
Mary-Jane Parker had an audition…”
Tony waved one hand. “I don’t want a head count, Jarvis.”
“Very well, sir. There is no one currently in the
mansion.”
Tony refilled his mug and Steve could tell when he actively accessed the
Extremis and linked himself into all systems that had run in the background. He
knew Tony was always right in the middle of his wireless connection to all
kinds of systems, was never alone in his head, so to speak, but he had learned
to read the barely perceptible signs when he was actively accessing something
or just listening to the hum in the background.
Tony had once tried to explain to him what it was like, but it was hard to
imagine being in the middle of this data highway, everything running at
lightspeed, and being able to match this speed. Extremis had given Tony an edge
no one else understood.
“Pepper mailed me to stay home for today and let the company run without me for
a day.” He grimaced.
“She’s right.” Steve regarded him solemnly. “You need some time off. And it’s
not like you can’t yell at your engineers from the comforts of your home.”
Tony chuckled. “True.” He stretched, the t-shirt riding up to reveal smooth
stomach skin, then winked.
Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips. He kicked back on the
couch, watched Tony’s mimicry as he went through mails and whatnot, and he
finally picked up the discarded newspaper and read over the headlines. Some
articles caught his attention and he smiled as he saw one of the photos Peter
had shot.
He didn’t care if Tony worked with the Extremis from at home. He didn’t care if
he spent the next hours berating scientists, taking part in meetings, bidding
on some obscure item in an auction or on Ebay. It was just nice to be with Tony
again, listen to his voice, see his smile, see the twinkle in the dark eyes,
see the child-like happiness when something worked, and Steve would make sure
Tony Stark didn’t disappear into the workshop – hid in the workshop.
“So,” Tony drawled, voice pure sex, “any plans?”
Steve knew that whatever plans he might have had, they had just gone out the
window, down the drain, turned to dust. Considering what they had been replaced
with… hell, he had no problems with spending the day in bed – or on various
surfaces in the house.
From the looks of it, neither had Tony.