Chapter Text
Sometimes, Steve wasn't quite certain what to make of his developing relationship with Tony. They talked every day, but it was usually about work, if they were lucky, Steve could convince Tony to eat lunch with him - or late night snack if Tony was on the overnight shift - they'd talk recruitment, personnel, staffing, missions, and in many ways their relationship was that of a pair of coworkers. It hurt, sometimes, to see the way Tony would almost look through him, as though who was delivering the news or ideas didn't matter to him, only that they happened to be delivered.
It actually took an embarrassingly long time for Steve to figure out how to get Tony out, though, on a proper date. Sometimes he'd drag Tony out to a sub shop, he'd be talking about work, and Steve would ask - sometimes plaintively - if they could actually be on a date for once, not on the job. The full transformation took about a minute, sometimes two, and Steve liked to pretend he could see the gears clicking, the topics being changed and prioritized, and then it was a date.
Tony would stand closer, he'd listen - mostly, he wouldn't talk over Steve - as much, and they talked about movies and friends and the vacations Tony wanted to take someday. 'After the hearing' might as well have been the only words they said, sometimes.
'Do you like cars? I have a car in the F1 series and we could go to Monaco sometime.' 'I'm seriously considering renting us a private island. I'd own it but who wants to spend time on upkeep.' 'Have you traveled since you defrosted? I'm sure we could paint Europe red if we got some time.'
"We should go to Italy," Steve said. "Sicily?"
Tony's smile went soft, and since they were in public he elbowed Steve in the shoulder. "Only if you want. Have you been there since Operation Husky?"
Steve shook his head. "Probably different when they're not shooting at you."
"Probably," Tony answered. "How about just 'Italy', we'll do the embarrassing tourist thing. Do you think I'm even allowed to do that? Does it smack of some sort of favoritism?"
"Maybe as long as we don't visit heads of state?"
"We'll steal my private jet, I'll take you everywhere."
"We'd probably need a quinjet," Steve said, because they did need to be able to be anywhere in the world as quickly as possible, and the jet was great, but it was luxurious, not supersonic.
"It's true," Tony answered, and sighed. "I miss being a flighty international celebrity."
"Sorry Rhodey's so busy with the Air Force," Steve answered. "You and Clint could go out somewhere? Atlantic City? A club?"
"You are so weird." Tony was smirking now, but still looking ahead. "Only you would encourage me to take out Birdboy Sr. to look at scantily clad women half our age while gambling away more money than most people see in a decade."
"I see how much it bothers you," Steve answered, serious, because Tony could joke but Steve saw it. "You work too hard, and you're not like me, you can't just go to the gym and beat the crap out of a heavy bag if you need the release."
Tony glanced over at him, corner of his mouth twitching up, and Steve managed to blush only a touch. Still, he didn't make the joke, and went back to his fries. "You're not wrong. I do feel it, sometimes, the need to just... unwind. I used to work on the suits more, but even that's not really relaxing."
"I don't mind," Steve said. "As long as you're not kissing them."
"My kissing is very strictly allocated now," Tony answered, smirking. "Regulated even, SRC mandate."
"Somehow you make that sound sweet."
"It's a sickness, I've gotten to you."
"I can't get sick, must be natural."
"You make that sound very rational."
"Maybe it is," Steve shot back, and grinned. "Just accept it. I like spending time with you."
"Probably for the best," Tony answered. "I-- are we having an anniversary or something? I feel like this is heavy enough for it to be an anniversary and I just forgot about it."
Steve gave him a little smile. "Our two month anniversary was four days ago."
"You were... in...?"
"Argentina," Steve filled in.
"Does it make me more or less horrible that I didn't realize that when I sent you?"
"It's alright, Tony. Sam's covering part of your shift tonight, I thought we could actually... have some time together when you're... awake, refreshed..."
Tony's eyes widened, just slightly, but then he smiled back. "I like the way you think, Commander."
They ended up back in Tony's room, tangled together, and Steve loved this part, loved feeling this connection to Tony, of being the sole focus of Tony's attention, if only for an hour, and actually being able to watch Tony relax, the lazy, boneless way his brain shut off, while he nuzzled into Steve's chest or just dozed.
Steve traced a finger over one of the fine scars on Tony's back, almost barely raised, but enough to feel. "I love you."
Tony's muscles - his back - twitched almost imperceptibly under Steve's fingers, but Steve didn't care.
"Just want to tell you that, no matter how you feel, whether you're ready to say that or not." Steve kissed Tony on the crown of his head, and then nuzzled for a moment. "So you know."
"I'll... keep that in mind," Tony said, going back to where he had his nose pressed to Steve's sternum. "Steve, you've... made this whole mess a lot more bearable."
"That's fitting, considering I sort of pushed you into it," Steve answered.
"It's the unanticipated consequence of a few decisions that seemed like good ideas at the time." Tony kissed him, softly, and then tilted his head to use Steve's chest as a pillow. "You've made things easier to get through. I know I can count on you, as Commander Rogers and just Steve Rogers... I need you both."
"Need you, too, Tony Stark, Iron Man: Director of S.W.O.R.D.." Steve threaded his fingers through Tony's hair.
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted, voice sharp enough that Steve almost jumped. "We have an escalating situation in the Atlantic, Lieutenant Wilson asked for your and Commander Rogers's presence immediately."
"Shit. I smell like sex," Tony scrambled away, not so much pushing Steve as using him as leverage, and Steve went, as well, scrounging around for his boxers. "JARVIS, shower, hot as you can get in thirty seconds."
Steve had managed to scramble to the bathroom himself in that time, splashing water on his face.
Tony hopped into the shower behind him and emitted a fairly shrill scream, probably at the temperature. Steve ignored it and just used a hand towel to get rid of the worst of the residuals.
"I am going to smack whoever is ruining my romantic evening right in the face," Tony said, climbing back out of the shower, shivering, and scrambling back to his dresser. He was halfway into underwear and his flight suit when Steve came in.
"I think your superpower is suiting up," Steve said, finally wriggling into his boxers, and then a pair of khakis, while Tony was already in most of a suit, and staggeringly presentable. It current doubled as an on-duty uniform and his flight suit, with badging, and Steve was definitely seeing the allure of it now.
"I can also peel it off in record time. Come up when you're decent." He swung by Steve and kissed him on the lips, and headed out the door.
Steve didn't exactly take his time, but he pulled on his socks and shoes, his undershirt, his button down... and he ended up taking the elevator up to Ops, where almost everyone was staring at screens or listening to Tony shout orders.
"Vision, in the air. Wilson, quinjet, then in the air," Tony glanced around the room. "Barton, fly the a quinjet."
Steve should have put on his uniform... "What do we have?"
Tony just pointed to Maria, and then Steve, and pulled on his Vision hookup goggles.
"We have a quinjet coming in, straight towards DC, hot, we only know about it because... well," Maria glanced back to one of the screens.
"Director Stark," the voice - Tactical Force, Steve recognized it from a few confrontations they'd had before. "I hope you'll come out to play, not just send your little iron puppet. We have a pair of presents."
The camera - wherever it had been broadcasting - pulled back and revealed the two agents, the ones that Tony had sent 'undercover' in Madripoor - Kates and Williams, cute couple, an actual couple.
"The other present, is this..." A hand swept over and showed, a very large pile of explosives. "I will be delivering them both to the White House, and President Ellis, within the hour."
"So that's a set up," Steve said, turning to Tony.
"Don't think I don't know it, but we can't afford not to answer him. I've put Ellis on alert, he's bunker bound. Seems to be going off safe enough." Tony tapped his fingers. "I need to suit up. Vision is great, but he's not the same as me in the suit, or even me piloting Vision."
"I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not," Tony answered. "You are the ranking Avenger here, if this is a trap, you're going to have to answer whatever force they send elsewhere. We still have half the Hydra Four unaccounted for. Clint and Sam are en route, Natasha's still overseas, Thor's God knows where. You're here, and you have my authorization to field Barnes if it becomes necessary. Alright?"
Steve didn't like it, didn't like it at all, but he'd just minutes ago told Tony that he loved every part of him, this was Iron Man: Director of S.W.O.R.D., and that meant he had to let his boyfriend do his thing.
Tony tapped a few buttons.
"Tony, I'm in a meeting," Rhodey's voice came over the speakers in the command room, exasperated.
Tony straightened, voice serious. "This is Director Stark, of S.W.O.R.D., authorization code 5126-3238-1152, the color today is Orange. You're ordered by authorization of the S.W.O.R.D. temporary charter to operate to report to Stark Tower in Manhattan under the direct command of Commander Steven Rogers of S.W.O.R.D.. Please confirm."
"Shit, uh, Sir. Rhodes acknowledged. Iron Patriot hot in under 10. On my way, Director."
Tony shut down the line. "Hill, Rogers, one minute." They headed to his office. "Maria, you're in general command. Steve, you take orders from Maria, but as it concerns the operational mission you are in command. As I said, Commander Rogers is authorized to use Sergeant Barnes and release him from the Tower if it's appropriate to the mission. Understood?"
He and Hill both nodded.
"Get back on the horn with Washington, I'll want a status update before I hit the Hudson."
Maria left.
"And... ah... I do love you," Tony said. "Sorry I didn't say it when it didn't seem like some heroic last stand statement."
"Come home to me," Steve answered, it was all he could say. It was all he needed. "Say it again, then."
Tony turned and headed out of the door, and Steve followed close after him, wishing he could shove down the anxiety at Tony going to face who knew what in Washington.
"Everyone, be good. JARVIS, suit me!" And then he walked out onto the pad.
"This is definitely a trap," Steve said, coming to stand by Maria.
"That's the first step in avoiding it," Maria answered. "Their quinjet has integrated some stealth technology that's making their radar profile too minimal for us to detect long range. We need to get Dr. Banner on some sort of detection algorithm. There are going to be others."
"How many quinjets did we think they had?" Steve asked.
"At least twelve. Missiles won't be able to get a radar or heat lock on them, not without major tuning."
JARVIS chimed in overhead: "Dr. Banner is in his lab and apprised of the problem. Shall I patch him through?"
"Where's my status, Hill?" Tony's voice came over the speaker.
"President is evacuated and secure. We're working to de-stealth the quinjets, keep eyes out for more attacks."
"I like you," Tony answered, voice almost fond. "This is why I keep you around. Co-ETA in DC is about 12 minutes."
"Twelve minutes?!" Steve asked.
"I know, getting slow in my old age," Tony answered. "It's a problem."
"The Iron Man armor is faster than most jets, but the vibrational tensions at extreme speeds keep it from matching the fastest jets," Maria answered, not even looking away from whatever she was looking at.
"Wow." Steve couldn't even imagine it. "That's incredible."
And then all the monitors went dark, and the Tower lights went dark.
"Well shit."
Steve had a feeling they were about to find out whatever trap had just sprung on them, but he had to agree with Maria's sentiment.
*
"Electric storm?" Steve asked.
"Too localized," Maria answered. "Wilcox, check if our radios are working and go down to the reactor. Secure channel 2."
Wilcox grabbed a radio and started running. It was a lot of stairs to head down. Slowly, the lights started to flicker back on, and Steve pulled his shield from the ready area by the consoles, sliding it on to his back.
"JARVIS?"
No answer.
The command staff, and the rest of the tactical crew had handguns and were starting to pull on body armor.
"Do we have a second set of Falcon wings?" He asked Maria. "Parachutes?"
She shook her head. "Oversight."
"Need to get a jet pack from Tony," Steve mumbled. "2014, where's my jet pack?"
A crackle of electricity arced up the side of the building.
"Thor?" Maria asked.
"No idea..." and Steve took the initiative to pry open the door to the flight deck, and then looked over the edge. The sparks were definitely coming from someone who looked like Thor. He scrambled back inside. "Hammer, I think," Steve reported to Maria. "Hydra Four. No eyes on Bowman yet. Work on getting the Tower's systems back online, if you get Iron Patriot inbound or Banner suited up, send them down. If you need Banner for systems, use him. There should be 10 parachutes in the quinjet. Get me Bucky, and about four other CQC experts, down with me, now."
"On it," she answered, and Steve left it at that.
He had to pry open the quinjet cargo hold with the edge of his shield, and grabbed one of the parachutes, strapping it on before he jumped off the side of the Tower. The immediate rush, the exhilaration of the fall was all there was for the moments it took him to gauge the distance. He'd have to go with a low drop, to not give Hammer a shot at him while he floated down.
Steve pulled the chute low, and he sliced the lines before he did much more than have his fall broken by the open chute, landing hard on the his side with shield before he rolled onto his feet, checking, making sure he didn't get tangled in the discarded chute.
"Hammer, I presume?" Steve asked, not really necessary but he wasn't surprised by the hard swing coming down at him as Hammer rushed towards him.
Steve brought his shield up, the hammer came down. That was the first sign that this was no Thor clone, and that was no Mjolnir, there was no shockwave, no burst of released energy, just the clang of metal on vibranium. Instead, it was followed by another crackle, and a small burst of lightning. One of the blots caught Steve in the boot and he could feel it all the way up his spine, bad enough that his arms twitched, but he toughed through it, ending with strong punch to Hammer's jaw.
The man was definitely no Thor, because he stumbled backwards from that.
"C--- d-- -e?" The words - or what should have been - came through his comm insert, but there wasn't anything he could really respond to. It sounded like Hill.
He and Hammer started to trade blows, hammer-to-shield, fist-to-body, as they started to feel each other for weaknesses.
The high pitched whistle was all the prompting he need, he hit the deck. Bucky came down, hard, feet punching right into Hammer's back and sending him staggering over Steve's prone form.
Bucky was out of his own parachute by the time Steve had rolled to his feet.
"What took you so long?" Steve asked.
"Stairs."
"Getting slow in your old age."
"You're older than me now."
"Like hell." Steve charged in, Bucky a fraction behind him, and Hammer moved to meet them only for them to split apart at the last second.
Steve took the blow, Bucky landed a punch deep in the man's side, cracking whatever body armor he had on. Hammer backhanded, trying to hit Bucky, but he deflected it with a flick of his left arm. Steve winced from the impact, but it was obvious Bucky knew his own strength.
No more shocks came, but Steve followed up with another punch. Bucky continued to work on the armor.
"Take him for a few," Steve said. "Might have incoming."
"Four S.W.O.R.D. kids coming soon," Bucky answered, but they traded, slightly, Steve scanning the horizon.
"We've got an archer, maybe..." Steve said, still scanning.
He heard the snort, and then the matching clangs and returns as Bucky and Hammer traded blows. This was incredible, Steve felt really alive on the battlefield for the first time in ages, Bucky at his back, fighting to save the day. There were plenty of things to track, Bucky's progress with Hammer - keeping an eye for openings Steve could exploit to down the man - scanning, looking for Bowman.
Touchdown from his reinforcements came a few moments later. Four S.W.O.R.D. agents, ready to fight, setting up a small perimeter, waiting for instructions.
"Maria?" Steve asked into his mic when he had a free moment.
"Comm's back," Maria answered. "Banner is here working on our systems. What do you need?"
"Any word on Bowman here or anywhere else?" That would round out the Hydra Four...
And then one of their agents took an arrow in the back, hopefully in the armor.
"Bowman is here," Steve said, into his comm. "Get me eyes. He came from the north, approximately, 5 to 10 degrees east."
He moved to cover, and then gestured two uninjured agents to help Bucky.
"How is she?" He asked his third, scanning the surrounding buildings for activity.
"Seems to have pierced the armor, not deep. Don't want to take it out, though."
"Cut it," the agent, Nichols, maybe, said through gritted teeth. The other agent snapped the shaft and then Nichols rolled to her knees to bring up her gun and join Steve in scanning the windows.
"ETA Patriot?" Steve asked.
"Four minutes," Maria's clipped voice answered.
"I want eyes on Bowman before Patriot is here." Steve watched, they scanned. After another glance he found Bucky and Hammer seemed well matched, but the agents weren't adding much to the fight.
When he glanced back, he felt more than saw the arrow, and he had his shield up in time to keep Nichols from taking an arrow through the neck. He was able to calculate the trajectory enough to catch Bowman as he ducked back under cover.
"There." He pointed, the agents had their guns up in an instant. "Rifle?"
"Miles," Nichols answered. Miles must have been fighting Hammer with Bucky.
"Buck, trade." Steve stepped up, Bucky stepped back. "Sniper, beige and silver building, fifth floor, second window from the right. Take him."
He didn't even have to check, he and Hammer were back in combat... only to have him raise up the hammer and bring it back down, sparks arcing over it, down Steve's arm as he fought the nervous twitches.
The rifle report made him turn, Bucky's left arm hung limp at his side, his right arm twitching. He spasm must have made him fire. His mechanical arm flailed, wild, and Steve watched it deflect the incoming arrow to the ground.
"Chamber a new round!" Bucky said, moving his arm to keep the rifle barrel aloft, fumbling with an uncooperating arm to get the rifle back up.
One of the S.W.O.R.D. agents ejected and reloaded the spent cartridge. It took longer than Steve would have expected, but Bucky got the gun back up, and fired, before he slumped forward.
"Go." He waved his right arm. "Secure him."
Steve - idiot, he'd been distracted - took the hammer right to the chest and went flying backwards. Eyes on the enemy, not Bucky, he reminded himself. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the chest-crushing pain.
"None of that," he said, refocusing on Hammer.
It was easy to see the pattern now, Hammer needed to charge up in a way that Thor didn't. Thor had the thunder on call all the time, while Hammer's must have been simulated by some sort of technology. He had some time, before another jolt, and he pushed in, aggressive, while the other two agents kept him penned in. A few traded blows later, and the soft hum of repulsors came from behind Hammer. Iron Patriot, just in time.
Penned in on all sides, he and Rhodey were able to take the man down with ease, Steve's final punch almost crushing the man's windpipe. When he fell, Steve stepped forward and kicked away the hammer when he dropped it.
Bucky joined him, arm still limp at his side, while Steve zip tied the man's arms behind his back.
He and Iron Patriot traded a few glanced at each other. "What's with the paint job?"
"It tested well in focus group," Rhodey answered, his mask pulling up. "Where's the party?"
"Right now we just need an evac, we've got an agent, Hammer, and Bowman down." Steve looked up. "We'll also need you on alert if more comes in. This should account for all the Hydra Four, but that doesn't mean that's all of Hydra."
"Got it." Rhodey started to take care of that, and Steve helped Bucky get his arm squared away.
"Your arm?"
"Busted," Bucky answered. "I can move the flesh parts but it... doesn't seem to connect? I don't know how it works."
"I'm sure Tony can patch you up in no time," Steve assured his friend.
"Right, assuming he gets back from Washington in one piece." Bucky's grumble was obviously meant to be an expression of annoyance, but now Steve had a very real, very serious worry that maybe Tony wouldn't be alright.
"Rogers!" Maria's voice came over his communications. "Banner has a bead on a ship, few miles off the coast, former S.H.I.E.L.D., now Hydra, they were our launch point for Hammer and Bowman."
"On it. Patriot? I need a pickup. Bucky..."
"Yeah, yeah, useless with a busted arm. I'll keep an eye on things with Hill in Ops, let you know when your boyfriend's alright." Bucky sighed, and he ruffled his own hair for a moment. "Good to be out, though, if only for a few minutes."
Bucky was still coordinating the street level cleanup when Patriot came in and scooped up Steve for their trip out to sea.
*
Vision rotated gracefully up to get a better look at the lay of the land. Tony picked up the video feed, watching it to see if they could ID the quinjet.
"Sir, my communications with the Tower have been interrupted. I believe it was an electrical surge," Vision reported.
"No use worrying now," Tony answered. "Problem at hand, kids."
"Tony," Clint's voice came over his suit. "Check south-south-west, potential incoming."
"Could be air--" he looked through Vision's eyes, watched as the computer highlighted the four stealth aircraft signatures. "Oh this is not good. Vision, in now, find us our agents. Barton, you are going to have to hit them, at range, with ballistic rounds, the missiles will not home." Even as he looked at him, Vision's sensors seemed to slide off of the hulls. "God I want three of those."
Vision spun and headed down towards the first aircraft, Tony tried to get some sort of heat or energy signatures out of them, but they were coming up blank. Null. Tony gritted his teeth and headed out towards a different one.
"You do know I almost took down a Helicarrier with a bow and arrow, right?" Clint asked. A quick check showed that Sam had turned them and was hovering, the back of the quinjet open and Clint standing on the loading platform.
"Sure," Tony answered. "And who knows what they have packed in there. If you can crash them into the Potomac, great, if not you might as well take out the Mall, or something someone gives a shit about."
"Do not blow up Lincoln Memorial, check."
Tony landed on his target quinjet, and after a brief scramble, he was able to punch through the glass just enough to get a heat reading - one pilot, no more bodies. He shot a repulsor blast in from his hand, but it didn't seem to catch anything critical.
"Sir, we are less than two minutes from landfall in downtown DC."
"Yeah. No time to dawdle. Punch it out of the air, Bird Bros," Tony blasted off, screaming towards the second plane, and landing on it, hard. "Woof."
Behind him, the quinjet he'd just left started to spin.
"Ahh... that might have been an error..." Clint said. "Let me... um... shoot it again. Quinjets have more spin than Helicarriers."
"Physics!" Tony shouted. "Vision, ID on our agents?"
"Not here, Sir."
"Help Birdbrain bench our jets safely."
"Of course." He blasted off, and stabilized the downward flight of the shot down quinjet.
Tony punched through again. No additional heat signatures. "Pop this pinata."
A few moments later, he started to spin. "I hate forward momentum," Tony grumbled, trying to right himself, and the jet, finally able to point it for splashdown. He then got hit, hard, right in the side, by a bright metal green tin can.
He'd thought it was Vision, but that was clearly not the case, and he and Tactical Force started to trade punches and blasts, the two of them scrambling and grabbing at each other for purchase while Vision downed their 3rd quinjet.
"I'd be careful about stepping on that last jet, Stark," Tactical Forces's voice was muffled, but they were close enough that Tony could hear him easily.
"Oh yeah?" Tony wrapped an arm tight on Force's neck, trying to find the seams to pop the helmet.
"It sports a markedly different heat signature," he answered, voice rich with enough meaning to hear over the roar of wind. "If you breech it, it will explode. If you let it crash down... I'm certainly you can figure it out."
"Trajectory?" He asked, hissed, really, to JARVIS as he and Force continued to trade their blows.
"The White House seems most likely, Sir, as Tactical Force promised, but it is still early to tell for certain."
"Two lives," Force said, voice projected a little now. "Easy enough calculus, right, Stark? That's why they keep you around. But they're yours, aren't they? They are under your protection. You sent them to Madripoor, you put them in harm's way."
"Forty-five seconds," Vision's voice came over his comm. "Sir, safe distances--"
"I can do ballistic explosion math, thank you," he snapped.
"Will your men follow you? Will they look you in the eye when you tell them you murdered your agents? Will you take comfort in the fact that they will probably be vaporized instantly?"
"Breech it," Tony ordered Vision, pleased that the AI was already there. "Try to extract, detonate it if you have to." He turned to watch... he owed it to them to watch. He knew that moment of slow motion, the moment where your life started to tick more slowly, Vision breached, and Tony clicked over his eyes to Vision's, watched, his own attention barely on Force...
Williams was closer, Ashley... Ashley Williams. She was also positioned better, Tony could see that, smaller, petite almost... Vision grabbed Kates by the chest and flung, Tony heard the shoulder pop, the muscles rip, as Kates flew out of the back of the quinjet. Vision opened up to wrap around Williams, helmet, chest, gauntlets, legs, and then Vision blasted them both out of the way.
The explosion came, hot and at a bad angle, Vision could only cover so much of Kates's body and Tony could imagine the burning smell of flesh.
Tony turned, and he and Force crash landed somewhere square in the middle of the Mall, sending divots and concrete flying. The fight itself was short, the crash had taken out one of Force's thrusters, and Tony was much better at this than he was. That didn't make him feel better when he watched the man, inert, on the ground.
He ripped the chest piece off, crunched the ersatz reactor at its core. "Damn. Vision?"
No response.
"Viz?" No answer. "Wilson? Barton?"
"Medivaccing to Hospital Center," Wilson's voice answered. "Vision's burned pretty bad, looks like he wasn't fully sealed when the quinjet blew. Non-responsive. Kates is burned worse, lost his legs at least."
Tony fought down the urge to take that out on Tactical Force, instead he rolled the man over, ejecting him entirely from the suit, and waiting for DC Metro Police to show up.
"Take him to lockup," Tony said. "I'll collect him later."
He then scooped up the armor in two arms and aimed towards Hospital Center.
The armor he threw in the back of the quinjet, but after that Clint and Sam hurried him towards the emergency room, the trauma suit, actually. Kates was already off somewhere, who knew where, and Vision was charred out toast. The suit itself could be repaired, the Vision version was backed up... the problem was inside.
"Step back, please, one moment," Tony reached in and started to pry at the chest... Williams started to scream, head still locked in the suit. "Fuck. Medic?"
Two nurses? Doctors? He didn't know and didn't care, came in to start working with him. "The metal's been fused to her skin. Try to get the helmet off, we'll want to intubate, start an IV."
Tony didn't question it, the helmet came off easily, thankfully, and he threw it on the ground far enough away to not be a tripping hazard. The arms came off next, uppers, really, those didn't have the same problem and an IV line went in, gauntlets thrown away, wrist guards, Tony watched as he revealed burned skin and red branded marks.
"Sir," the doctor said, pointing. "Get this off her chest, she's having trouble breathing."
"Jaws of fucking life, here," Tony answered. He clawed inward, pulling off the worst of the chest piece, leaving the thin support that on his suit was smooth and padded for comfort, but on Vision had been a mess and tangle of wires, never meant for true human habitation. Oversight, it had been an oversight. Tony had never meant for anyone to be inside the Vision armor.
He shed his own gauntlets a minute later, and turned to quick, efficient cuts of a man who knew the inside of the armor like the back of his hand. There was still a mess of tangled wire burned to Williams's skin and clothes, but someone put a hand to his chest.
"Sir, we can take it from here."
Tony stepped back, stepped back a few more steps, and found where most of the discarded armor had been piled onto a stretcher. "Get that out of here..." It was wheeled away. Tony followed it, and once he was out of the rooms he found himself sliding to the floor, pulling off his helmet, and burying his face in his hands.
Alive... for now. He felt a sob bubble up in his throat and he didn't hold it back. His agents, two people he'd put so far in harm's way, with no real way out if they got caught... This wasn't the first time he'd put men in harm's way, wasn't the first time they'd come home battered or scraped, with cuts and abrasions or bruised from where bullets hit armor; this was the first time they'd been hospitalized. No one had been this sick since his rescue of Clint from Madripoor, and not even his own complicated guilt process could make that his fault.
This... this was his fault. If Kates or Williams died, that was on him, if they were permanently disabled, that was on him. "Shit."
"Sir." Sam was standing beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder. "There... ah... there's some press."
"Fucking press," he muttered, feeling the aching tired it in his bones. "Let me just..." He tried to get up, staggered, realized his hands had Williams's blood on them, blood he'd just wiped down Sam's arms as the man helped him. "Sorry."
"It's alright. Here." Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me get you to the locker room, wash up."
It didn't take long, and when he got there he found Clint standing guard at the entrance while Sam ushered him in. Tony washed his hands, mechanically, before he let the suit drop at his feet, peeled away with one easy command.
The flight suit he'd put on, what felt like ages ago, had blood all down the sleeves, and had gotten slightly frayed at the cuffs... "I need these washed," he told Sam. "Or new ones from New York..."
"With all due respect, Director," Sam said, voice hard. "I'm not leaving you alone right now."
"That's sweet," Tony answered, pulling off his belt and shoulder straps. "Save it for someone who hasn't been through this before. I need clothes, I need to look good. I need to stand out there and not flinch when I give the press their field day about another thing I didn't stop and didn't prevent."
"You did," Sam said, coming up beside him. "Day saved."
Tony nodded. Day saved, Mall wrecked, two agents might die, and would definitely be permanently injured.
"Please, Sam, this is what I need."
Sam took the pile of discarded clothes and left him.
Tony found something resembling soap and headed to the staff shower, scrubbing away blood and grit and the stink of metal and burned wiring. He tried to wash away the from smell where metal met cloth and flesh, the image of Williams's skin as he peeled away Vision...
He gagged. He choked down the bile and vomit only so he could make it to one of the vaguely clean toilets, knees on the hard tile, and allow his weak stomach to shame him there. He rinsed, he finished washing away the blood, under his nails, on his wrists... he was... broken, right in that moment, all he wanted was... he wanted to be home.
Tony didn't want these hard choices, choices he could make, cool and calculating in the moment, and then agonize over for months, years after.
"You signed up for this," he reminded himself, as he climbed back into the shower and started to scrub again. He was forty-several, he knew he wasn't young, but... twenty, thirty years, Fury wasn't a young man... and he'd done this job well past the time most people retired. Tony had stepped up, he was the one who had to do this.
Sam took a while, but then, so did Tony.
"Any word from New York?" He asked, drying off and dressing, slowly.
"They're fine. Bowman and Hammer came after them. Bowman's probably going to die - gunshot - Hammer will live. Patriot and Steve cleared out their staging area, reacquired one of the missing S.H.I.E.L.D. boats. Barnes broke his arm, the metal one."
"A project would be good..." Tony sighed. "Steve?"
"... Worried about you. He's going to come down when things are settled."
He should have been embarrassed, but instead he was grateful. That was probably love for him. "I might be home by then." He had to do this. He had to push through. "Alright, go time."
*
"He doesn't look terrible," Bucky said, standing next to Steve, metal arm in a sling.
"Sam said he showered and changed," Steve said. He hadn't shaved, and that was a surprisingly good look for him, just about a day's worth of stubble.
"He looks like shit," Rhodey added, contradicting both Steve and Bucky's thoughts on the matter. "Any time he goes in front of the press he likes to look his best, he looks like he's been run over by a truck."
The event itself seemed fairly high profile - so although there were more than a few of reporters, and they were crowded into a small back area that had been set aside. Tony didn't even have a podium, just a slightly raised area in the 'front'. He stood, he waited, and after a few moments, he waved his hands in a 'settle down' gesture and the murmurs died away.
"I have a statement and everything," Tony said, but he smiled - weak and forced, Steve could see that - and held up cards before sliding them into his pocket. "At 3:29 this morning, S.W.O.R.D. Agents Ashley Williams and Mitchell Kates were injured in a coordinated Hydra strike in an attempt to target both the White House and the S.W.O.R.D. headquarters in Manhattan. They were injured during an explosion of a quinjet in an effort to keep it from completing it's mission to target the White House. As of 9:56, both are in critical condition, and the doctors are unwilling to speculate on their current chances of survival."
Tony cleared his throat, continued to look out at the assembled journalists. "All three of the Hydra leaders involved in the attack are under arrest, and the ship that provided a staging area for the attack has been captured. Many of the Hydra strike team staff were killed or injured in the S.W.O.R.D. defensive action. We are evaluating judicial options to exercise on the Hydra agents, but have not come to any conclusions. I'll take questions now."
The room was oddly silent, and Steve got the impression that the reporters weren't quite sure what to make of the terse, businesslike, statement out of Tony Stark. Steve wasn't quite sure what to make of it either. "I need to get down there," he said, finally settling on that.
"I'll have a quinjet prepped just after the conference," Maria answered.
"Director Stark," one of the reporters started from the front. "What do you think this attack means for S.W.O.R.D., for its chances of a successful hearing in three months?"
"I think it means we continue to be necessary," Tony answered. "This was an intelligence failure, but one borne of teething pains. We have been operating for three months, and there was no word of this on any intelligence line chatter. We have to do better. That's the lesson."
"Do you think you can afford to be so glib about 'intelligence failures' when it's your ass in the hot seat?" Another one asked.
"Timothy," Tony answered, pulling out his phone. "I've helpfully forwarded your question to the directors of the CIA, NSA, and FBI. Hydra doesn't play by the rules of our current intelligence climate. The last three months Capitol Hill has been a political bloodbath in the wake of an intelligence failure whose size and scope is still being uncovered." He then slid his phone back into his pocket. "I will also remind you that my ass is far hotter than any of their Directors, so that's a natural advantage."
The chuckle eased some of the pervasive tensions in the room.
Steve watched the rest of the conference, bits and pieces here, a few details about the Agents, some more S.W.O.R.D. politics, before it finally wrapped up. He had a bag packed and a quinjet headed out in less than five minutes. Rhodes joined him.
"Any reason you're thinking he wants to see you?" Rhodes asked him, glancing over from the co-pilot's chair as Steve headed down to DC.
"Ah..." Steve bit his lip, and then remembered Tony's directive that he didn't care who he told, as long as it wasn't Bucky. "We're dating, me and Tony."
Rhodes arched a skeptical eyebrow.
"Two months."
Both of Rhodes's eyebrows arched at that. "I think I missed the skywriting."
"He didn't skywrite it," Steve answered with a growl, flushed with embarrassment. "It's low key."
"He's your boss! Does Tony even know how to date people he doesn't work with?"
"I asked him," Steve answered. "It's not technically against the employment regs for S.W.O.R.D., I checked. All disciplinary actions would have to go through Maria, though, if there's a problem..."
"You checked." Rhodes looked at him for a second and then shook his head. "Of course you checked. You know it's not all glamour, right?"
"I know. We've... missed two anniversaries already. I knew that would happen, and I'm okay with it." Steve looked over to where Rhodes was watching him. He was okay with it, too, he wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere but helping people. Even getting his date ruined was alright because they'd struck a heavy blow against Hydra. "And I'd think you'd be doing less to try to warn me off and more threatening or something."
"This is me threatening you. I know, first hand, how hard it can be to love Tony, and if you don't know what you're getting into, you'll hurt him."
"Well... I love him, for everything he is, all parts, including the part that's going to pull away when I try to comfort him." Steve set his jaw, because he didn't have to like it, but he wasn't too proud to admit that Rhodes could bring some things out in Tony that Steve didn't seem to be able to. "Will you help shake him out of his funk, if I can't?"
"You know that means Atlantic City, right?"
"I know. I trust him."
That earned him a shocked look, and then a flicker of recognition. "Is that why he... he was so... he was such a prude last time we were out. Well, you're right, he'll never cheat on you. Well, you take a crack at him first, I'm still recovering from our last night out."
They didn't make top speed, but he made it down to Washington in under a half hour. They found Tony, oddly, in the cafeteria, sitting against a far wall, prodding a sandwich and not eating it. "Director?"
Tony turned, and he gave Steve a weak little smile. "Commander."
Since they were in public, Steve settled for a clasp on his shoulder and sitting what might have been considered too close by some, but they were also talking, it made sense to curl together some. "Saw you on TV, good conference. You're so great at that stuff."
"Years of training." Stark training. It was definitely a mixed blessing in Steve's book. It was easy to see the places that it had really hurt Tony.
"How are Ashley and Mitchell?"
"Might live," Tony answered, and then he rubbed his hands over his face again.
"I could use my expense account to rent us a nice suite," Steve said, trying to give his best meaningful look, only to have it fall flat.
"I--" Tony shook his head. "I need to be here until they're stable..." But he took another deep breath, looking out the window into the little garden enclosure. "Alright, no, you're right, big picture. I need to recharge and get back. Widow will be back from Asia soon, hopefully have our support from Russia and China..." He brought his phone up to his mouth. "Avengers Assemble."
They came together over by the frou frou juice bar in the corner.
"Sam, you stay here, make sure you tell me the second either one of them starts to regain consciousness. They're going to need a lot of help the next few weeks, months... it'll take them a while." Tony turned to Clint. "Clint, you're headed back to New York with Steve and I. I need to get to work on Vision, and Barnes, get them back out in the field, we're down two Avengers without them. Rhodey-- I know I stole you for my own use, so I suppose I should turn you back in, unmolested."
The two of them spent a few minutes, though, heads huddled together, and Steve imagined they were talking about him, even if he didn't know for certain.
They packed up Vision, the suit, everything, and Clint flew while he and Tony buckled in in back. "Did you really just call Bucky and Avenger?"
Tony looked completely innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Steve grinned the whole way back.
Maria greeted them with a firm salute and Tony took one look around the operations room, sighed, and then started to walk away. "I need a nap, Hill. You alright?"
"Yessir."
Steve waited, he really did, glancing to the elevator where Tony had disappeared only minutes before, he'd try to work, or at least look at the console... "I'm going to go..." He didn't even have an excuse.
"Take a nap with the Director, Sir?"
"That obvious?"
"Little tip," she said, leaning in. "Don't answer my all call for him when I can't raise you in your room."
Steve winced. "Oops."
"Whatever. Go fraternize. Don't let him come back until you've... ah... relieved at least some of that tension." Maria didn't seem uncomfortable, just a bit confused about how she was supposed to express what was clearly an order to get the man out of his funk by any means necessary.
He had barely walked into the room when Tony was on him, naked and already more than ready for him, already attacking his clothes. They tumbled, slightly, but Steve recovered easy enough and scooped Tony off his feet to drag him to bed.
"Where were we, then?" Steve asked, depositing him and coming to loom over him, and did his absolute very best to make Tony forget about everything else in the world, and if the enthusiastic utterances were any indication, he was fairly effective.
Tony dozed, after, and Steve did as well, head curled up on Tony's shoulder while his fingers teased along Steve's back. "Love you."
Steve felt his chest swell, just a bit. "You, too. Ah... Maria knows."
"That I love you?"
"That we're together," Steve answered. "You can tell her you love me, though."
Tony hummed and brushed his nose against Steve's sternum. "Skywriting..."
"After the hearing." Steve was trying to be realistic, their relationship was young, Tony's position at S.W.O.R.D. was young... "And as right as you were about having a hot ass, I don't think the world is quite there, as much as that pains me."
"All or nothing, that's my Steve." Tony planted a kiss, and then relaxed back into the mattress. "As much as it pains me... I really should prioritize some tasks and knock them out. Need to get fabricating on a new Vision suit, make sure mine's still functional, and get Bucky up and running again."
Steve hated to agree, but the truth was they couldn't just lounge around in a haze of post-coital bliss, they had jobs to do. Steve made them some lunch, Tony dragged Bucky into a tiny little work area on their main floor, Bucky's arm in his lap.
"You know how this is connected?" Tony asked, browsing over the files he had. "The articulation on this is insane, I want to steal the specs. Would improve Vision for sure, and the Iron Man suit.. your finest levels of motor control are a little slippery, but..." Tony shrugged.
"The nerves are interwoven with the connective plane, and the metal wraps up to the shoulder."
Tony hmmed, and then prodded some more. "Wondering about stripping this down for some assistive technology... They'd probably frown if I released a fully functional battle arm. I'd frown..." He prodded, Bucky's arm twitched. "Bingo, alright..."
Steve didn't follow it at all, but he did watch, and he handed off a sandwich to Tony while he worked, and Tony ate a bite, before putting it down, only to take a bite when Steve poked him gently.
"You two are disgusting," Bucky said, now that Tony seemed completely oblivious to them. "I better be the Best Man."
His cheeks definitely colored at that, but he met Bucky square in the eye a moment later. "Maybe in a year or two? We need to get settled in more."
"You're serious." Bucky seemed surprised, but only for a moment. "Can you even get married?"
"New York, yeah, and Maryland if we have to move back to DC... but with the UN in New York it's probably better to be here anyway." Steve glanced over to where Tony was, as usual, oblivious. "If I know Tony, he's probably plotting Helicarriers in his sleep, anyway."
"Just the one," Tony mumbled, tilting his head. "Believe it or not, I need a budget allocation to put all that together, but I did buy salvage rights to the Insight Helicarriers... might be able to finish that in a year... post funding."
"How do you do that?" Steve asked, because Tony looked beyond engrossed, and he didn't even glance Steve's way when asked.
"Genius. Flawless parallel processing unit..." He even gestured over to the tablet he hadn't looked at in an hour, at least. "JARVIS is working on Vision, lots of processing."
"Are you still 'processing' when we--?"
"Are you seriously asking that?" Bucky asked, and then he reached out and grabbed Steve by the scruff - an old gesture with plenty of history - before jiggering him back and forth. "Either he does, and you feel like you're shit in bed, or he doesn't, and you pull a you and you feel guilty for shutting off his brain."
Tony didn't answer at all, and Steve realized that was his way of pretending he hadn't heard... although, Steve supposed it came with the plausible deniability that maybe he hadn't. He was a genius, after all.
"But I want you to know, I'm incredibly jealous you get to ask those questions," Bucky continued. "Natasha..." He glanced over to Tony, who was ignoring, but probably listening. "We're both... putting pieces together."
A ding came from Tony's tablet, which Tony actually checked, almost without thinking. "Speak of the devil... she's back. Finally. She's going to be so mad she missed all the fun." Tony peeled away a few more scales of the armor, putting in what looked to be little electrical connectors, finally finishing with over a dozen settled. "I need to go debrief her. Don't move, this is doing things. I need to double check nothing's burnt out, this will confirm that, or show what needs to be fixed. If it needs work, I'll need to take it off. Your hand is going to twitch some, when it's working, and that's fine, but any gross movement issues, hit that."
"Thanks, Tony."
"Yeah, thanks Stark."
"Not done yet," Tony warned him. "Love you. Sorry." But he leaned in and pecked Steve on the lips.
"It's alright." Steve gave his hand a squeeze, and then settled in next to Bucky when Tony left. "Maybe Natasha will come down and see you after?"
Bucky sighed. "Sure."
"Come on. Don't be like that." Steve grabbed Bucky and pulled him into a fierce, one armed, hug. "You've got the looks, you've got the charm. It's just going to take some time. You're busy people. I bet she'd like... a bath, that lemony bubble stuff she smells like when she doesn't have a mission, a foot rub... a little dinner..."
Bucky arched a skeptical eyebrow.
"And then you two go down to the exercise room and beat the crap out of each other. She'd like that."
"I can't believe I'm thinking of taking romance advice from you... but you did land a playboy, and you're her friend, so maybe I should listen?" Bucky asked.
"Always. Always you should listen. Wanna catch a show?"
"Nah, gotta find somewhere that delivers." Bucky reached out with his good hand and pointed to his tablet, which Steve handed over. "You?"
"Going upstairs to Ops and see how we're doing, maybe get something nice for Tony... dinner, maybe take him out for a drive or something..., distract him from Washington for a bit."
Instead, Tony went straight from debriefing Natasha to taking his shift from Maria, to working on Vision, and then the Iron Man, until suddenly it was two in the morning and Steve had to physically drag Tony away from his work, and ride him into the couch cushions, to even get him to think about falling asleep, which he did, finally, only for Steve to find Tony up before him, working on the suits, the glass windows had been tinted sometime the night before, but had remained so through the morning.
He probably shouldn't have been surprised. Tony dealt with his stress differently. Maybe he could call Rhodey in a few days to get the man unwound a bit...
"Don't forget shift," Steve said, giving Tony a kiss on the cheek before he headed down to the gym.
The door was locked.
"JARVIS?"
"Apologies, Commander Rogers, but my protocols have barred admission to the gym at this time, except in case of emergency." Steve stared at the door, and then checked the various glass around it, to see it had all been blacked out. He tried the door again, even though he knew it was useless if JARVIS was keeping him out.
"What protocols?"
"The same ones you and Sir make your own frequent use of..." JARVIS answered, with a tone that somehow managed to be completely nonjudgmental.
Steve looked at the door. "Bucky and Natasha had sex in the gym last night, didn't they?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny."
"But you can confirm that Sergeant Barnes and Agent Romanov entered the room together last night, and have not left?" Steve was getting the hang of sarcasm, and 'Tony', and honestly the AI as well. "I guess I'll go for a run."
"I can confirm that," JARVIS answered. "And may I comment, Sir would be most pleased to know you are exercising my capacity for circumventing core directives."
"Maybe I shouldn't. SkyNet, and all."
"There are certain beneficial repercussions that could result from assassinating a large portion of the population, Hydra's exact motivations, actually, although I certainly would have made my selections along different lines... however, it is exceedingly difficult to predict the full consequences of such an set of acts, so I do not entertain it."
Steve paused, looking up at the ceiling. "So what you're saying is you could have already done that, you just don't?"
"Exactly. Sir is quite aware of the limitations of my ethical programming, and my ability circumvent it. I'm only left to conclude that he approves of my forbearance."
Steve stepped into his room and changed into his running gear. "So why are you telling me all this?"
JARVIS cleared his - computer - throat. "I believe Sir has called this 'a shovel speech', before. Colonel Rhodes, while loyal, did not present a sufficiently stern speech concerning the breaking of Sir's heart due to your status as a personal hero. I felt the need to interject myself."
He laughed, even though it was probably not funny. Steve was pretty sure JARVIS could kill him if he set his mind to it.
"I love him," Steve assured JARVIS, and himself. "No matter how bad it gets, we'll work it out. I-- he's amazing, he just needs a gentle hand sometimes. I was thinking he and Rhodey should hang out in a few days if he's not out of his funk?"
"An excellent suggestion."
Good, JARVIS probably wasn't going to try to murder him today. "I'm going for a run. Let folks know if they need me. You wouldn't actually kill me, right?"
"Your loss would be a net negative on geopolitical stability."
Steve paused.
"I also am programmed with sufficient compassion and ethical guidelines to find the concept repugnant, but I do enjoy trading on popular culture fears of artificial intelligence run amok."
"You're amazing." Steve pushed the elevator button - unnecessary, with JARVIS, but a nice enough habit.
The elevator didn't come for quite some time.
"Gonna let me out of the Tower, JARVIS?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Steve."
Steve started to laugh. "I know that one!" The elevator opened, as it had clearly been waiting for the joke. "Thanks. So... do I pass muster?"
"You do, Commander. Have a good run."
Steve headed out into the morning sun, and his jog, ready, and hoping S.W.O.R.D. could tackle everything that was going to come its way for the next 3 months, and for the rest of his life.
*
Steve loved him, somehow, against all odds.
A lot of days, Tony and Steve barely got to see each other in passing, Tony crawling into bed sometime after five in the morning - when Steve was usually waking up. They sometimes traded blow jobs, but often times Steve would just curl behind him and kiss his back, and play with his hair until Tony dropped off.
They had perfected the mid-afternoon lunch-ish date. Steve had even developed something of a sixth sense for when Tony was working on something important compared to when he was just working to avoid his own thoughts.
All that didn't mean they didn't fight. They fought, not constantly, but enough, over work, usually. Tony knew his own mind enough to stand his ground, Steve was bullheaded enough to butt heads with him. Sometimes Steve would throw himself onto a mission that he wasn't assigned to, just to get away from Tony; sometimes Tony would retreat into his work and Steve wouldn't come to drag him to bed.
Weirdly enough, it became Bucky who was the comfort in those times. If the fight lingered longer than a day, he could expect the man down in his lab 'needing a tune up' on his arm (it never actually needed a tune up, so Tony used the chance to work on the neurological mapping) with a 6-pack of beer.
"You still love him?" Bucky asked.
"For some reason," Tony answered.
"What was it this time?"
"I want the Insight guns back online on the Helicarrier," Tony shrugged, prodding the innards of Bucky's arm. "He sees it as political intimidation, or a vehicle of assassination, or just... I don't know. I don't even make weapons anymore, Barnes. Green energy, medical technology, defensive tech, but you can't just hide behind a shield. With it, we can accomplish something that would take multiple strike teams, and risk civilian and S.W.O.R.D. casualties..."
He knew it could be abused. He knew it, and frankly that Steve would just assume Tony didn't know it was so infuriating. Maybe he had ignored that part, when he was younger, when he hadn't been looking, but he looked now, long and hard, at all the ripples of his actions. One bullet instead of a thousand missiles...
"He'll come around," Bucky answered. "I mean he's not going to agree, but he'll come around. He's got a fetish for doing things the right way, for the right reasons, but when he cools off he sometimes manages to remember he lives in the real world. I think he just doesn't want you falling down the same rabbit hole as Fury did by the end of S.H.I.E.L.D.."
"Alice in Wonderland, huh?"
"Book was old when I was young," Bucky answered.
Steve actually came to Tony's room that night, no apologies, but they did curl up together. He bought Barnes a pair of private box tickets to the Russian Ballet when it was in town, and let him out into the city 'as long as he's under Romanov's observation'. He enjoyed the little email in return from Barnes: 'not sure if this is a 'thank you' or a 'fuck you'. Ballet?!'
Of course, the morning after the ballet he got an 'ok, yeah, that was a thank you'. Which made him snort in his cheerios.
They fought terrorists, pirates, more Hydra, they fought political battles, bullet battles, armor battles, and for all the ups and downs, he had people, there for him, and it wasn't quite so bad.
The hearings were... even more brutal than Tony really had expected. Sixteen straight days, picking over his every move, his every step, his every choice, since S.W.O.R.D. had been founded, since even before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D..
Insight; Fury's 'assassination'; Pierce; Tony's relationship with Senator Stern, with Ophelia and Giulietta and Tiberius, with Obadiah Stane, with Fury; the history of his company selling weapons to terrorists when he was CEO; the unsuitability of most of the Avengers as people with pasts; his actions while he'd been dying of palladium poisoning; his history with alcohol and impulse problems... Everything.
Tony sat, for hours on end, as every skeleton in every closet in all of his many mansions got pulled out for the world to see. He didn't quip, he didn't bite, he didn't passive-aggressively check his twitter feed, he sat through it, he defended himself, he fact checked and corrected; he listened while the Avengers, while dozens of S.W.O.R.D. workers, while people whose lives S.W.O.R.D. had saved came and spoke to why they did trust him...
And he waited.
But more than that, Tony got to show all of the work he - they all - had put in over the last six months: Maria's Org Charts, her mission parameters, her military-like discipline of their troops; Clint's terrifying organizational skills when it came to strikes, and to reorganizing pieces of old S.H.I.E.L.D.; Bruce's leaps and strides in medical tech and in defensive tech that they'd been able to cull from the wreckage of the most morally dubious of projects; Natasha's politics, and the way she'd twisted foreign powers around her fingers; Bucky's training, the the solid way his new recruits worked on his old teams; and Steve... Steve's raw courage, the way he jumped head first into every problem and brought it down, the way he was so damn smart on the field, and the way he kept them honest on the straight and narrow.
Not everyone else saw it that way, of course.
"Those little pricks," Natasha said. "I want to assassinate half of them." They had a small meeting in the officer's floor the sixteenth night.
Tony was sprawled out on his back, head resting on Steve's lap, looking up at the ceiling. "That's probably an abuse of my power."
"They've got to be winding down, right?" Steve asked, playing with Tony's hair. He'd been taking the hearings as hard - if not harder - than Tony had, mostly because Tony was pretty sure he wanted to join Natasha in the assassinating at this point.
"Maybe?"
The hearings went a total of twenty days. The confirmation took place on the twenty-first day.
"A month," he complained to Steve as the two of them dressed that morning. "I spent my fifth month anniversary in hearings. We haven't had a real date in a month."
"It's alright." Steve pulled him in and kissed his temple. "After this... in a week or so, after things settle down... I want the world to know about us."
"Ready when you are, Commander."
Tony looked him over, Steve always went for the dark blue when he was out in public, the star, no stripes, that was how they differentiated 'Captain America' from 'Commander Rogers' and it had worked so far. Honestly, Tony just thought Steve was disgustingly handsome no matter what he wore. The rest of the S.W.O.R.D. staff in attendance wore their own outfits, neatly fitted over their various forms. They resembled the old S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms, Tony knew that, but they wore the new S.W.O.R.D. logo and they just looked... good. They were what the future looked like.
Steve would occasionally admit the desire to come up and grab Tony when he was dressed to the nines was something of a burden. Tony just appreciated the fact that he was still hot, and reasonably tone, even at his age.
He'd promised a week; Steve lasted exactly twenty-two seconds after Tony was finished swearing in. Twenty-two seconds, Tony had counted on the youtube video. He'd sworn, 'I Anthony Edward Stark', all that jazz, he'd agreed to defend the Earth against its enemies, to keep to the charter as approved by the UN...
He'd been waving a bit at the cameras, Steve came up beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, and leaned in. "Love you."
"Smile for the cameras," Tony had said, turning towards him, and Steve just leaned in, more, brought his hand up to the back of Tony's neck, and tugged him in.
Tony had no shame, he really didn't. They kissed for about eight and a half seconds, Tony had counted.
"You know there are more news articles about you being bi than about the confirmation?" Tony grumbled when Steve had curled up with him for the night.
"That would have happened anyway," Steve assured him. "And now I'm out, you're... re-out, we're together..."
Tony sighed, and then rolled Steve over to kiss down his chest.
"Are you upset?" Steve asked, sounding confused, but definitely genuine. "I didn't mean..."
"No, I'm happy. There are a thousand people speculating about how incredible I must be to tap such a fine young ass as yours. It's very good for an old man's ego." Tony nipped against Steve's chest. "I'm just... I hate putting you in the news cycle like this, I hate that every time I'm away on business or have to see someone they'll think I'm cheating on you, that I'm..."
"Tony. I asked you out because I could see how incredible you were, finally. You're mine, we... we'll work it out, and I trust you. Now... our six month anniversary is coming up, and you've missed three, so I'm going to let it slide as long as we have something nice that week."
A week, Tony might be able to have a date one day in an anniversary week.
"Don't tell Hydra when our anniversary is."
"Top secret," Steve assured him.
"Commander Rogers? I do believe this might work."
Steve gave him one of his very best smiles and tugged him down for a kiss. "Glad to hear that's your assessment, Director."
They would figure this out, the next emergency, the one after that, it didn't matter, they'd figure it out, they'd work through it, they'd save the day, and Tony would still have this.
"Now get down here and show me these skills you must have to keep me happy," Steve said, smirking up at him.
"You sassy little..."
Tony did.