[So here's the thing: Steve Rogers, Captain America, actual Nazi-punching hero who has saved the world (and the universe) more than once, is terrified of dates. More specifically, asking people out on them, but also probably the action of dating itself if he got that far. (He's been on double dates before, but those don't count; Bucky had coaxed girls into bringing along a friend for him, but they nearly always ended up more interested in Bucky than Steve.)
He knows that after admitting his feelings to Tony, the logical next step is a date, but, at the same time, that feels too weird to him. Dates are for getting to know someone, and there's no one he knows better than Tony Stark. (Because he's kind of an idiot sometimes, it doesn't occur to him that there are other reasons for dates, that maybe the woman he's trying to romance would, in fact, like to be romanced.)
Maybe he lets the topic fall by the wayside for a week or so because he doesn't actually know what to do and he's overcome by sheer awkwardness, and maybe that means he ends up not talking to Tony again till they're suited up and fighting some AIM goons who think that souping up zoo animals is somehow a good idea.
It's not, and although they get most of the menagerie wrangled pretty quickly, Steve ends up disarmed and cornered by a bear that is way bigger than it should be. He catches a flash of scarlet out of the corner of his eye and prays that it's Tony; though he might not admit it, there are times that technology comes in handy.]
Mind lending a hand here, Stark?
[The bear swipes at him, and Steve dodges the paw, tackling it in the stomach. It feels like tackling a furry brick wall.]
[ Despite Steve's assertions that dinner wasn't necessary, Tony had decided to read between the lines. No, taking someone on a date before having sex with them wasn't a rule of nature, and plenty of happy and healthy individuals bypassed that step of courting and skipped straight to the main event. It was Tony's opinion that Steve could use a little courting, though, not because of his origins but because of his timeline. Tony knew more than enough about Steve's past—thin, frail, and single to tall, strong, and busy as hell fighting a war. There had been romance, but little time to act on it—then into the ice and, after thawing, back into the fight. So maybe Tony isn't the kind of man to wine and din everyone he falls into bed with, but he was damned if he wasn't going to give Steve that base courtesy.
Plus, it had been fun to test his skill with chopsticks.
Now, though, he's faced with the heavy tension post-dinner and pre-whatever it was they were going to get up to. Steve hadn't been entirely forthcoming about his desires, but he's stated them later rather than never. As Tony drives them away from the restaurant and towards Stark Tower, he contemplates his potential courses of action. ]
Since they didn't have many desserts to pick from, want to come up for a nightcap?
tony glances up from the ruined mark iii faceplate he's working with. on another monitor, beside the one with the mark iii model, reads the result of the analysis: "no identifiable match found." below the words lies the dna readout of the strands of golden brown fur that tony picked off his clothes a month ago during the helicopter ride out of that afghan desert and promptly forgot about until now. in his defense, building the armor consumed his thoughts, then with everything that happened after...
tony frowns. he's not equipped for this sort of analysis, knowledge-wise. "forward the data to dr. alan douglas. see if he gets any bites, literal or otherwise," he tells jarvis.
dr. alan douglas does not, in fact, get any bites. the dna of the fur is unrecognized anywhere in the world's zoological records. a mad scientist's amalgamation of human male and lion is the best douglas can surmise. "do you have any further information for me?" he asks curiously over the video call.
tony thinks of the hazy dream of a lion-man's face as he lay dehydrated and injured after exploding his way out of the ten rings's capture; the dream of soft fur against his cheek, of a clawed hand (paw?) so big it engulfed his entire head as it helped him drink. "... nope!" he says, and that ends that.
with a company to raise from the ashes and terrorists and weapons to turn into ashes, tony shelves the mystery of the lion man. but the possibility has wormed its way in and nestled, a quiet constant in the back of his head: what if it wasn't a dream? when he's talking up the investors about the company's new direction, what if? when he's detecting and removing old land mines in the mark iv, what if? what if?
there's someone else out there who saved me.
he happens to return to that area as iron man, a few miles from where he was held, farther into pakistan and in the pamir mountains. his mission is to eradicate the cache of weapons he located in another ten rings cell. it's night, so the explosions make for a spectacular light show. the ten rings are completely helpless against the armor. though this is a different cell, and each cell operates independently, tony rains fire down on them with prejudice.
once every terrorist is either dead or has fled, tony checks the site for remaining caches. he'll need to sweep all nearby caverns, too.
[ the water reflects himself back at him, complete with his annoyed frown. tony stands submerged up to his chest on the edge of the pool's deep end. he's finally addressing this little ... problem of his. he's iron man, right? his head and face being underwater should mean nothing. what if lina wants to go swimming sometime? he doesn't want to freak her out like he did simba. (he enjoyed their date a lot. when they got to his house, they ended up drinking wine and talking the whole time. she was a steadfast debater. after she left, the good feeling, while less pronounced, lingered, unlike when he leaves some random girl[s] in his bed and the good feeling evaporates.) he wants to be able to enjoy the water like he used to. come the spring and summer months, what, is he gonna avoid surfing because he's spooked by wiping out? no. he's tony stark. he's...
tony huffs and bounces on the balls of his feet to hype himself up. the waves crack apart his reflection, the lights from underneath refracting in broken lines. this is as far as he's made it, despite being drawn to leaping into the deep end first thing. but here he goes now. here he goes–
he's barely under for a second before his legs and arms jerk him back up. tony swims over to the pool edge and rests his arms on it, spreading a puddle on the concrete, gulping air like he's out of it. his hair drips in his face and the reactor sits too heavily in his chest, but there's no harsh arabic in his ears, no jolts of electricity surging through him. not really, at least. ] Okay, that wasn't so bad, [ he gasps. ] Take two. [ breathe. ] One... two...
[ with a deep breath, tony shoves himself down with the heels of his palms under the lip of the edge and his fingers clutched over the top. he's eerily still, until his hands curl into tight fists and his arms stretch straighter, forcing him deeper under. ]
[He and Tony settle into a comfortable pattern of almost-domesticity. At Thanksgiving, he watches Tony enjoy a full meal with all the trimmings; he's happy with the lion's share (haha) of the turkey, which is reduced to a pile of bones by the end of the meal. Memories stir deep in the recesses of his brain, but nothing concrete, nothing he can latch onto.
After Thanksgiving, Tony surprises him with a new mattress - it's not necessary, he tries to tell him, he's perfectly happy with his arrangement on the floor - and although he has to stay out of the way while it's installed, he has to admit, it is pretty nice. And finally he gets pants, and even though Tony has to custom tailor the holes for his tail, god, it's nice to wear something other than a bedsheet or a cobbled together loincloth.
Though it's December, it's still southern California; there's a slight chill in the air at times, but not one that he feels - and nothing compared to the mountains where he'd been living. He stretches his muscles with a run along the beach, the roar of ocean waves in his ears, the crunch of sand under his paws. At one point, he shucks his pants briefly and runs on all fours for a few minutes - while he clings to humanity as much as possible, he can't deny a certain satisfaction in really running at a speed no real lion could manage, the wind streaming through his mane. (He'll have to use conditioner to get the tangles out later.)
Once he puts his pants back on, he keeps jogging along the cliffs, in the grassier areas of Tony's property. He's a little uncertain of how long he should stay out here, worried someone might see him somehow - Tony's assured him the closest neighbors are nowhere near close enough to see him, even accidentally, but a well-honed sense of paranoia is what's kept him alive all these years, and that's why he loops around and heads back to the house once he's managed to shake the worst of the cooped up feeling from his bones.]
[The next couple of weeks pass fairly uneventfully. Tony's in and out on a typically irregular schedule, the weather dips down to something that might almost be considered chilly to someone who hasn't spent decades in the mountains, Dum-E helps him string Christmas lights in the workshop one night while Tony tinkers. He tries some simple side dishes - cooked vegetables, mostly - and they presumably aren't awful, because Tony eats them.
On Christmas day, they watch a movie that Tony insists is traditional - something about a kid and his family. He can't really tell why it's a classic, but he's obscurely pleased when Tony relaxes enough to put his feet in his lap during the movie. After Tony leaves for his party, he watches some black and white movie with Jimmy Stewart. It's no Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but it still strikes an emotional chord with him. He's quiet and thoughtful, and he goes to bed before Tony gets home.
The next week is pretty much the same. Tony occasionally touches his shoulder or arm, and he gives a couple of gentle nudges or friendly claps on the shoulder in return. He feels like something else has thawed between them, but maybe Tony's just feeling festive because of the season.
"Don't wait up," Tony tells him before he leaves for a New Year's Eve party - and he doesn't. He doesn't even bother to stay up till midnight; one year is much like every other to him. When Tony gets home, he's curled up in bed sleeping.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for fireretardant
He knows that after admitting his feelings to Tony, the logical next step is a date, but, at the same time, that feels too weird to him. Dates are for getting to know someone, and there's no one he knows better than Tony Stark. (Because he's kind of an idiot sometimes, it doesn't occur to him that there are other reasons for dates, that maybe the woman he's trying to romance would, in fact, like to be romanced.)
Maybe he lets the topic fall by the wayside for a week or so because he doesn't actually know what to do and he's overcome by sheer awkwardness, and maybe that means he ends up not talking to Tony again till they're suited up and fighting some AIM goons who think that souping up zoo animals is somehow a good idea.
It's not, and although they get most of the menagerie wrangled pretty quickly, Steve ends up disarmed and cornered by a bear that is way bigger than it should be. He catches a flash of scarlet out of the corner of his eye and prays that it's Tony; though he might not admit it, there are times that technology comes in handy.]
Mind lending a hand here, Stark?
[The bear swipes at him, and Steve dodges the paw, tackling it in the stomach. It feels like tackling a furry brick wall.]
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Plus, it had been fun to test his skill with chopsticks.
Now, though, he's faced with the heavy tension post-dinner and pre-whatever it was they were going to get up to. Steve hadn't been entirely forthcoming about his desires, but he's stated them later rather than never. As Tony drives them away from the restaurant and towards Stark Tower, he contemplates his potential courses of action. ]
Since they didn't have many desserts to pick from, want to come up for a nightcap?
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tale as old as time...
tony glances up from the ruined mark iii faceplate he's working with. on another monitor, beside the one with the mark iii model, reads the result of the analysis: "no identifiable match found." below the words lies the dna readout of the strands of golden brown fur that tony picked off his clothes a month ago during the helicopter ride out of that afghan desert and promptly forgot about until now. in his defense, building the armor consumed his thoughts, then with everything that happened after...
tony frowns. he's not equipped for this sort of analysis, knowledge-wise. "forward the data to dr. alan douglas. see if he gets any bites, literal or otherwise," he tells jarvis.
dr. alan douglas does not, in fact, get any bites. the dna of the fur is unrecognized anywhere in the world's zoological records. a mad scientist's amalgamation of human male and lion is the best douglas can surmise. "do you have any further information for me?" he asks curiously over the video call.
tony thinks of the hazy dream of a lion-man's face as he lay dehydrated and injured after exploding his way out of the ten rings's capture; the dream of soft fur against his cheek, of a clawed hand (paw?) so big it engulfed his entire head as it helped him drink. "... nope!" he says, and that ends that.
with a company to raise from the ashes and terrorists and weapons to turn into ashes, tony shelves the mystery of the lion man. but the possibility has wormed its way in and nestled, a quiet constant in the back of his head: what if it wasn't a dream? when he's talking up the investors about the company's new direction, what if? when he's detecting and removing old land mines in the mark iv, what if? what if?
there's someone else out there who saved me.
he happens to return to that area as iron man, a few miles from where he was held, farther into pakistan and in the pamir mountains. his mission is to eradicate the cache of weapons he located in another ten rings cell. it's night, so the explosions make for a spectacular light show. the ten rings are completely helpless against the armor. though this is a different cell, and each cell operates independently, tony rains fire down on them with prejudice.
once every terrorist is either dead or has fled, tony checks the site for remaining caches. he'll need to sweep all nearby caverns, too.
he gets to work. ]
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tony huffs and bounces on the balls of his feet to hype himself up. the waves crack apart his reflection, the lights from underneath refracting in broken lines. this is as far as he's made it, despite being drawn to leaping into the deep end first thing. but here he goes now. here he goes–
he's barely under for a second before his legs and arms jerk him back up. tony swims over to the pool edge and rests his arms on it, spreading a puddle on the concrete, gulping air like he's out of it. his hair drips in his face and the reactor sits too heavily in his chest, but there's no harsh arabic in his ears, no jolts of electricity surging through him. not really, at least. ] Okay, that wasn't so bad, [ he gasps. ] Take two. [ breathe. ] One... two...
[ with a deep breath, tony shoves himself down with the heels of his palms under the lip of the edge and his fingers clutched over the top. he's eerily still, until his hands curl into tight fists and his arms stretch straighter, forcing him deeper under. ]
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After Thanksgiving, Tony surprises him with a new mattress - it's not necessary, he tries to tell him, he's perfectly happy with his arrangement on the floor - and although he has to stay out of the way while it's installed, he has to admit, it is pretty nice. And finally he gets pants, and even though Tony has to custom tailor the holes for his tail, god, it's nice to wear something other than a bedsheet or a cobbled together loincloth.
Though it's December, it's still southern California; there's a slight chill in the air at times, but not one that he feels - and nothing compared to the mountains where he'd been living. He stretches his muscles with a run along the beach, the roar of ocean waves in his ears, the crunch of sand under his paws. At one point, he shucks his pants briefly and runs on all fours for a few minutes - while he clings to humanity as much as possible, he can't deny a certain satisfaction in really running at a speed no real lion could manage, the wind streaming through his mane. (He'll have to use conditioner to get the tangles out later.)
Once he puts his pants back on, he keeps jogging along the cliffs, in the grassier areas of Tony's property. He's a little uncertain of how long he should stay out here, worried someone might see him somehow - Tony's assured him the closest neighbors are nowhere near close enough to see him, even accidentally, but a well-honed sense of paranoia is what's kept him alive all these years, and that's why he loops around and heads back to the house once he's managed to shake the worst of the cooped up feeling from his bones.]
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On Christmas day, they watch a movie that Tony insists is traditional - something about a kid and his family. He can't really tell why it's a classic, but he's obscurely pleased when Tony relaxes enough to put his feet in his lap during the movie. After Tony leaves for his party, he watches some black and white movie with Jimmy Stewart. It's no Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but it still strikes an emotional chord with him. He's quiet and thoughtful, and he goes to bed before Tony gets home.
The next week is pretty much the same. Tony occasionally touches his shoulder or arm, and he gives a couple of gentle nudges or friendly claps on the shoulder in return. He feels like something else has thawed between them, but maybe Tony's just feeling festive because of the season.
"Don't wait up," Tony tells him before he leaves for a New Year's Eve party - and he doesn't. He doesn't even bother to stay up till midnight; one year is much like every other to him. When Tony gets home, he's curled up in bed sleeping.]
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