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[gotup]

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[myheartglows]

Tony has mapped out the human muscular system in his mind's eye as a guide. Layered next to the spine here, corded around the neck there--he pushes and pulls at each group; has to practically throw his weight into his arms to manipulate Steve's tense, serum-enhanced muscles. Steve guides him, too, with every sigh and groan, even more than the mental map, because he'll know what he likes best. Either way, it's something for Tony to focus on that rewards effort. Ever-so slowly, Steve's upper back gives way to Tony's hands. He keeps working at it, digging in his palms and thumbs, rolling his knuckles. He must lose track of time again, because he comes around to his skin misty with sweat, his arms and wrists aching, a small chill in his bones from an adrenaline crash--and a clearer head, his racing thoughts more ordered and tame, or at least not as immediate and all-consuming as usual. The fact that he even acknowledges the differences tips him off: he's coming back to his senses.

He's seated atop Steve's thighs, his hands flat on either side of Steve's lower spine. Blearily, Tony looks up along the slopes and ridges of Steve's resting form. "Steve?" he tests his voice out.

[gotup]

Steve's never actually had a massage before, and the rhythmic movements lull him into something like a trance. When Tony stops, his muscles are pleasantly sore, but much more relaxed. Steve himself feels more relaxed, looser, almost lighter, like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders.

He turns his head to glance back over his shoulder, blinking slowly. "Hmm?" Tony is, he hopes, gradually coming out of it; he doesn't usually address him directly while he's under. "'s feels good."

[myheartglows]

Tony stares back at Steve, nodding dumbly but also with a wondrous awe, before it registers that he should speak. "Uh," he begins and shuts his eyes to try and rebuild his composure, but his usual walls are flimsy beneath his grip--then, he realizes that his grip on them is flimsy, too. "I think I'm comin' out of it?"

[gotup]

"Yeah, I think so." Steve laughs breathlessly. "You done with the massage?" He wonders if the subdrop will hit Tony soon, and if he needs to be prepared for that. Even though Tony claims that isn't an issue with him, Steve has his doubts. Neither of them have ever been awake for this part before. "Come back up here," he encourages him.

[myheartglows]

Nodding, Tony crawls up and flops onto his stomach beside Steve. He shivers a little, teeth chattering once. "Wow, you, uh," he slurs, partly into the pillow, only one glazed, chestnut eye peeking out from it at Steve, "really did a number on me, huh? Dunno if I've ever been that far gone before."

[gotup]

Steve can't help a bit of a smug grin at that, but he also wriggles under the blanket with a few grunts, then gestures for Tony to move so he can tug the blanket up over him. He could probably keep him warm enough with just his own body heat, but there's something cozy about being snuggled under the blankets.

"Now you're gonna expect it from me every time, aren't you?" He laughs quietly. "Maybe I need to aim lower." As if that's something Steve's even capable of doing.

[myheartglows]

Tony barely manages getting onto all fours for Steve to tug the covers out from under him. Immediately grateful for the warmth, he snuggles up to Steve with an arm slung over his waist and face shoved under his jaw. "Nah. You're still learnin'," he says, then adds, "Gonna expect even more."

[gotup]

Steve just huffs. "You could at least take it easy on me." He wraps an arm around Tony's shoulder and tilts his head slightly to accommodate his head. "I barely know what the hell I'm doing," he admits. "One of these days, I'm gonna do something wrong." That's what he worries about, going badly wrong and hurting Tony somehow, whether physically or mentally.

[myheartglows]

Guilt pangs in Tony's chest, a mood one-eighty. He dragged Steve into this sexual practice and he's still failing to really be any sort of guide. (He still feels responsible, even if he's finding his way through the dark, too, in more ways than one.) Greedy. Selfish, his crashing brain hisses at him. Tony hooks a leg around Steve's, nylon on skin, and shuffles closer for as much contact as he can find. "If--if you ever wanna quit playing, full-stop, um..." he trails off. He can't even finish that sentence. How cowardly is that?

This isn't you, some part of him realizes. It's the endorphin crash biting you in the ass, but he's cracked open and raw, nerves exposed to every word.

[gotup]

"Shhh," Steve shushes Tony, placing a finger over his lips, tucking his chin closer to him to enfold him. "Tony, if I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't do it. You know how I am, right?" God knows he would dig his heels in if something was contrary to his nature; he's done it often enough in the past. "Stop blaming yourself. It's all right, darling."

[myheartglows]

Tony puffs out a breath, but melts into Steve's warmth. With the arm curled between them, he rubs his fingertips against the collar's blue leather. "Right. Yeah. Sorry."

[gotup]

Steve lets his fingers fall to cover Tony's hand over the collar. "You oughta see what I got you." He feels a little gleeful thinking about it. At any other time, he might get up and get it out from the duffel bag he brought along, but not right now. "You'll love it."

[myheartglows]

With a sigh Tony shuts his eyes and whispers halfheartedly against Steve's skin, beginning mental reconstruction, "Holding out on me, Rogers? After all I've given you..."

[gotup]

"Like you want me to leave you here while I get it," Steve points out pragmatically. He tangles his legs with Tony's, feeling his toes drag over the nylon. Truth be told, he could barely reach over to the nightstand to get another piece of chocolate right now, let alone peel himself away from Tony to get out of bed.

[myheartglows]

The tiny conductor of the train station in Tony's brain must think, "Nice while it lasted, I guess," because that one sentence awakens all the engines and the first train rolls down a tangential track. The past month, when Tony has come home from fending off the press (one lady had the gall to call Bruce a dangerous monster still) or attending social events or smoothing the way for the scholarships he wants to create or any number of political meetings and science conventions and—well, when he's come home to an empty mansion, and for the first time since Pepper, Tony has thought, It doesn't have to be like this. You could have someone to come home to. You could have the new team. You could have Steve, but he's shied away from it each time out of fear. His last team and his last love—he ruined both of them, irreparably (and even if he hasn't, he eventually will).

So, Tony rebuilt some barriers, upped the security, and readied his lasers. He pulled on the skirt he bought and bristled; he looked Steve in the eye and stood his ground. The end result was probably a given, though. When Steve Rogers lays siege, he finds his way in, no matter what. And when Tony finally fell apart under his hands, rather than scared, he felt treasured.

"You're right. I don't want you to leave me here," rasps Tony. "Or anywhere, for that matter, um—starting over. What I'm saying is, I think I wanna live at the compound. Not—not in any Avenging capacity. I just wanna be around..." You. "Anyway. Been mulling it over. Probably better for me than slowly turning into a J. D. Salinger case."

[gotup]

Steve's pretty sure his heart actually stops for a moment. Having Tony live in the compound - live with him - is a thought he hasn't been able to resist returning to, one he's avoided lingering over too long lest it consume him (as if the rest of his thoughts about Tony haven't already, a flood of emotions that he finds increasingly difficult to keep dammed up). He's even wondered once or twice if he could live in the mansion and somehow commute back to the compound, perfectly happy to spend four hours a day driving if it means he could come home to Tony at the end of it.

He takes a couple seconds to remember how to breathe, to pretend that there isn't a tiny part of him that wants to shatter into an emotional basket case. Steve presses his face into Tony's hair, inhales his scent before he presses a kiss to the crown of his head. There's still a lump in his throat when he finally speaks. "That- yeah, that sounds good." Better than good, but he doesn't want to sound too needy, doesn't want to scare Tony off with his intensity. "I'd like to have you there." His one-armed embrace tightens, the biggest clue to the depth of his emotions right now. It (hopefully) stops just short of rib-cracking.

"Although I think we'll need our own bathroom," Steve adds, trying to lighten things with a touch of humor. (He's entirely serious about the bathroom.) "And you'll need more room for clothes."

[myheartglows]

Tony might've let out a great, relieved sigh if not for the super-soldier arm squeezing his ribs. He was uncertain where he'd go once he moves to the compound, like he'll have all his boxes and crates and be standing dumbfounded at the front door, no idea where he belongs inside. Luckily, Steve just gave him an open invitation. They can live together. Tony can wake up next to someone—if, he chortles to himself, Steve ever sleeps past dawn. Steve can keep the nightmares at bay, and Tony can maybe find happiness again. (He'll crash and burn all the harder for it, his still-dropping brain supplies, when it eventually unravels. Everything he touches does.)

"I might have an idea about that," Tony says and splays open his hand on Steve's back. "It'd require moving away from the team dorms, but—okay," he gasps. "Steve. Steve, honey, you're a little snug there."

[gotup]

It might be a little presumptive of him to just decide that Tony wants to live with him - there's probably a difference between moving to the compound so they can see each other more than once or twice a month and moving to the compound to live together - but Steve's never done things by halves. (It's not like they won't still have their individual personal spaces, anyway, he reasons. Until now, Steve's spent nearly all of his waking hours outside his bedroom, anyway. But sharing a space with Tony makes him want to be in that space more, rather than being alone somewhere else.)

"Sorry." He laughs quietly and loosens his grip enough to let Tony breathe properly. There's a hint of awe to his laugh, like he's still amazed that Tony actually wants to move in with him, like any of his tiny domestic fantasies might come true. "That's fine. I'm sure the others would appreciate the peace and quiet." He grins over the top of Tony's head, the expression almost giddy. God, he's such a sap.

[myheartglows]

Tony laughs in kind, puffed out hot against Steve's chest. He's already making mental notes to call various contractors. How did he get so lucky? Steve actually sounds excited to live with all of Tony's daily quirks. "Peace of mind from not seeing a sock constantly on our door handle, maybe," he returns.

[gotup]

"A sock?" Because of course that's what catches Steve's attention. It's unfamiliar, but he can work out what it means from context, thank you very much. "I think the noise might be more of a hint." They aren't exactly quiet about things, after all. "Are you going to add on somewhere? Knock a wall or two out?"

[myheartglows]

"Maybe. Lemme consult with some architects," Tony says. With a groan he stretches against Steve, limbs achy. "Any other requests? Private kitchen? Lounge area? Secret sex dungeon?"

[gotup]

"First two, yes." Maybe this is turning into an apartment and not just a larger bedroom, but Steve can't say he minds. Especially since he bought Tony an apron with the express purpose of having him cook while wearing nothing else, which isn't such a good idea in a communal kitchen. "Decent-sized bathtub, and not just a shower." God, it's a far cry from when he used to bathe in a tin washtub with lukewarm water, when he lived in a single-room apartment. The Steve Rogers from those days would never recognize who he's become, and he isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.

[myheartglows]

"Sir, yes, sir." Tony wriggles in Steve's hold. "Right now, I want up, my present, cheesecake, a stupid romcom, and a bubble bath, in that order."

[gotup]

Steve snorts, but he pulls away from Tony obligingly, rolling over till he can sit up on the edge of the bed. From there, he tugs Tony up into a sitting position, then stands with a slight wince. The bag he brought this time is larger, mostly because he had to fit Tony's presents in. "I hope you're the one with the cheesecake," he comments while he's bent over. "'Cause if I was supposed to get it, then I missed the memo."

But he does have two boxes for Tony. The smaller one, on top, has an Iron Man-style apron - a gag gift more than anything else. The larger one is an elaborate leather harness in the same blue leather as Tony's collar, and, in fact, the straps at the top are clearly meant to fasten onto said collar. As awkward as he'd felt commissioning it - he hadn't even thought of the idea until it had been suggested to him - he's glad he has it now, which just goes to show that Tony's a terrible influence on him.

"Happy Valentine's Day." He plops the wrapped presents on Tony's lap, then sits down next to him, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

[myheartglows]

Tony misses the wince since he's shimmying his hips to fix the ruffled pencil skirt. He'd much rather switch into pants, but the outfit makes Steve happy and the whole "want to please Steve" mindset lingers for a while. As he stretches his arms he appreciates the view of Steve bending over—something niggles at Tony about that, but he's too blissed out to think deeper—and mentions that the cheesecake is in the kitchen fridge. He ordered it from one of his favorite bakeries as a treat for Steve and him. ("You're not allergic to strawberries, are you?" Tony blurts out, followed by, "Never mind, stupid question.")

"Two? You spoil me," Tony murmurs into the kiss once Steve drops the boxes onto his lap. Unveiling the apron, with its front printed as the Iron Man armor, brings a sadly wistful look, there and gone. Smirking, he holds the apron up and open and conspiratorially whispers, "If you think this is payback for all the flag gifts, joke's on you. I love it." He neatly folds it back into the box.