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[gotup]

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[gotup]

"Oh, well, that makes perfect sense." It doesn't, but Steve doesn't need an attempt at a further dumbed-down explanation. "Why are you messing around with your brain?" Brains, Steve feels, are the kind of thing that are typically better left alone, but Tony never found anything he didn't want to poke with science. It's definitely a trait that runs in the family.

[myheartglows]

More involved with the food than their current conversation, Tony only answers, "Therapeutic experiment," as he checks the layers of his burger.

[gotup]

Since Tony's actually eating, Steve doesn't want to distract him from his task. He figures a full explanation will be forthcoming at some point (or maybe it won't, if it doesn't go anywhere). "Is there enough ketchup for you?" he asks instead, giving the sack of ketchup packets an amused look. "I guess I could've asked for a to go cup full of it. Maybe a ketchup milkshake."

[myheartglows]

Tony is just about to attempt a bite when Steve brings up that imagery. His hands lower the burger and his nose wrinkles. "Eugh. Your timing. I've been nauseated as it is," he complains, and then takes a bite, anyway. The worst of the migraine has dulled, but Tony chews carefully.

[gotup]

"Payback for that time you talked about taking a shit while I was eating." Steve just grins back at him. Of course, it's nearly impossible to put him off his food, whether it's shit or ketchup milkshakes, so he goes on eating his own burger and fries. (Steve, of course, has impeccable timing - it's always the worst.)

[myheartglows]

Piling heavy, greasy food into his stomach might be a bad idea after the nausea of the migraine, but Tony feels all right enough now and he needs food for the soul as much as for the body. "Yeah? When was that?" he asks between bites, undeterred as well. Seeing terrible things on the battlefield, then going home and eating a post-victory meal became routine with the team, after all—until Ultron. Tony treated the new group to one fancy dinner after their first victory, and neglected any more.

[gotup]

Steve just huffs, a little insulted that Tony would forget their first- okay, he can't exactly call it a date, but that's how he thinks of it. "When we went out to dinner in town," he reminds him. "You said you were gonna name your dump Steve."

[myheartglows]

"At that gay pride place?" Tony remembers. The idea to use this as a segue strikes him. "We should go back there. You know, after I move in," he suggests, pointedly focused on his food.

[gotup]

Steve's about to mention that not every place decorated in rainbows is necessarily gay, but the next thing Tony says catches him by surprise. "You're still-" He hasn't said that he wouldn't, but Steve kind of expected he'd managed to sink that idea single-handedly. "I just figured since you were busy with everything else, you'd be staying in the city." It's a lame-sounding excuse, and he knows it."

[myheartglows]

"Actually, most of my business takes me elsewhere, so having easy access to helicopter and jet travel is a massive pro," Tony casually points out and waits for Steve's further reaction as he chews—waits for ... for Steve's permission or something, the reassurance that Tony is facing a moral north.

[gotup]

Steve gives him a soft smile as he reaches over and puts his hand on Tony's knee. "Well, I'm glad to have you around, whatever the reason. You still going to remodel?" While Steve's never seen the need to have more luxuries than the rest of his teammates, he knows that if he and Tony live together, they'll need more space, and definitely more privacy than the communal living quarters afford.

[myheartglows]

Tony breathes out, "Yeah, definitely," and lowers his half-eaten burger to the workbench, where he gazes at his distorted reflection in the steel. Despite everything—despite making Ultron, dividing himself from the team, and losing Pepper, he hasn't ended up alone, thanks mainly to the efforts of one person; and if his relationship with his parents taught Tony anything, it's to not leave the important things unsaid. With a soulful gravitas, he finally turns to Steve and tells him, "Thank you. For being patient, and honest, with me. You helped to get me through some dark times and I dunno if I've thanked you properly for all that yet, so ... there it is." Unwilling to meet Steve's response head-on, Tony chows down on his burger again.

[gotup]

Steve blinks at Tony's words. "You don't have to thank me," he replies softly and sincerely. Maybe he'd done it because he had feelings for Tony, but more importantly, he'd done it because Tony deserved to have someone there for him, someone there with him. In Steve's mind, it's part of being a friend (albeit maybe in an unorthodox manner). He's utterly devoted to his friends, to the point where some might consider it unreasonable.

"But you're welcome," he adds, before Tony can feel like he's dismissing what's clearly hard for him to say. "If you ever need anything, you can always come to me, Tony."

[myheartglows]

A deep fondness settles into Tony's gaze. Somewhere between Steve refusing to let go of him in that office and later showing up with the promised cheeseburger, the last remnants of doubts in Tony have cleared. Steve has earned his complete trust. With a shy little smile, Tony says, "Ditto," and grabs a napkin, which he waves between the two of them before he wipes his mouth. "This here, it's a two-way street," he clarifies.

[gotup]

It's the smile that gets him, that shy, vulnerable smile that represents a side of Tony few people ever get to see. "I wouldn't have it any other way," Steve agrees. He regrets now that impulsive decision to run away on the night of Valentine's Day; as much as he'd needed the distance to keep him from lashing out, now he feels like it makes him look like he doesn't trust Tony with his problems. He does, more than he would trust anyone else. It's just that he doesn't know what to do when Tony is the problem.

But that's something to deal with in the future, if it happens again, and Steve shoves it aside.

"Being with you, it makes me feel needed," he says quietly. "Not just as Captain America, but as Steve Rogers. You're with me 'cause you want me and not the guy in the suit. For the longest time, I was just kinda adrift outside of the Avengers. I didn't see a place for me in the world. But-" Steve stops and laughs softly, shaking his head. "God, I'm such a sap. My place is with you."

[myheartglows]

Mid-chomp on his burger when Steve begins, Tony pauses and slowly pulls the bite off. Truth be told, he expected nothing from Steve now or even soon; the guy tends to bottle things up out of some 1940s raising or because he feels he needs to be the Strong Leader or whatever. (Part of that assumption comes from Steve needing space that night, but also from the most vulnerability that Tony's witnessed from him being Steve's lack of confidence in domination.) So when Steve starts pouring out his soul, Tony is caught cheek bulging with burger mush and trying to give Steve all of his attention and compassion even though part of his brain is required to process chewing.

Swallowing thickly, Tony says, "I thought you'd found your home here," and then shuts his eyes. Little overwhelming to realize he's Steve's anchor as much as Steve is his. What a pair they make.

[gotup]

Steve laughs, and the sound is bitter. "Working for an organization that was secretly Hydra? I thought SHIELD was the place for me because it used to be the SSR, because it was something familiar I could do. I thought they wanted to help people the same way I did. And, well- there's not much use for a guy like me outside a war, you know? What else was I supposed to do for a living?"

Not that he strictly needs to earn a living; the Army owed him enough money when he was thawed out (thanks to listing him as MIA rather than dead) that cash isn't a problem. But Steve can't remain inactive, can't just sit around doing nothing. He's spent enough of his life idle already.

"I'm a man out of time, Tony. I don't fit. I tried to see things in black and white, but it's all just grey. I didn't know how to deal with that for awhile. I'm not sure I do now, but I'm trying the best I can. All I can do is trust my heart and follow where it leads me."

[myheartglows]

I meant here, with the Avengers, Tony should correct, but he's realizing how far Steve separates himself from Captain America. That day on the compound lawn, when Steve said he was home, that was Cap talking. Had to be. Their righteous and steadfast leader, right? Infallible. A soldier who poured his identity into a war and a symbol, unsure of who he is without them, made worse by losing the world he knew, lacking even that framework to figure himself out in.

"Well," Tony begins amicably, having straightened his back to listen with a concerned frown, "some of that's true. Other bits, not so much. 'Least not how I see it."

[gotup]

Steve scoots his stool closer to Tony's, close enough that he can bump their shoulders together. The contact reassures him, grounds him. It's not easy to talk about how he feels, but he's trying his best to get it out for once in his life - emotional constipation, Tony would probably call it, and it's not totally inaccurate. Back when he was growing up, men didn't express feelings, especially not the kind that would make them look weak to others - and that was even more true for someone who was already about as weak and vulnerable as anyone could be. He's always hidden his feelings, his pain. During the war, he tamped down his fear and grief, his shock at the reality of war. And now everything's bubbling up to the surface, decades later.

"How do you see it?" He has to ask, of course.

[myheartglows]

With a soft smirk (ever the showman drawing in his crowd), Tony answers, "You said it yourself: you're home." He gestures around. "Here. With this ragtag bunch of misfits we call a team."

[gotup]

"We call a team," Steve echoes with an arched eyebrow. Maybe it's a slip of the tongue, but he's not going to let that pass without calling Tony out on it. Every time he goes out on a mission without Tony, he feels the space where he should be, and he misses having him at his back.

[myheartglows]

"... Right," Tony drawls with the expectant look he gives when he's waiting for his audience to catch on until with a start he realizes Steve is waiting for him to catch on and he adds, "Your team, of which I am the benefactor, thereby also partially making it my own—look, don't spin this around on me. I'm trying to be comforting."

[gotup]

"Of course, dear," Steve replies dryly, but the entire effect is spoiled by the sappy smile he gives Tony. The implication, though, is that he prefers his interpretation of Tony's words to the so-called explanation. Softly, and with more sincerity in his voice, he adds, "I appreciate it."

[myheartglows]

Tony studiously examines Steve's face before he sighs, with which the weight on his shoulders returns. A weak half-smile precedes him returning to his food, but he simply stares at some spot on the bench. He's one to talk, really, about finding one's place; he's still flip-flopping about his own. He can decree himself dedicated to the future and philanthropy all day long, can play the benefactor seemingly content to support and manage from the sidelines, but what he really wants, what his heart wants—

With a sudden start Tony stuffs the last bit of burger into his mouth. Oddly animated, he says to Steve while wiping his hands, "Leave your door open. I'm spending the night."

[gotup]

Steve almost, almost replies with As you wish, but thinks better of it, doesn't want to fuck things up yet again by pushing the issue, because he knows now that what feels right to him doesn't necessarily feel right to Tony.

"Like you wouldn't just let yourself in anyway." He chooses the more sarcastic retort - but, really, he doesn't care if Tony barges in on him. He doesn't have anything to hide from him. "Which, by the way, you're welcome to do," he clarifies. His door is always figuratively open, even if it's physically closed.

"You gonna keep working in here till bedtime?" Steve sucks up the dregs of his milkshake through a straw as he waits for an answer.