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Almost dying, Tony decides, really puts one's life in perspective. They weren't kidding when they said your life flashed before your eyes, right up until your last breath. His life flashed alright, in a riot of color and noise, camera flashes, cheers, and jeers alike. And when he opens his eyes, he's greeted by Rogers kneeling over him looking distraught.
His almost death aside (he'll deal with that trauma later) Tony does what he does best to break the tension; he cracks a joke. And because today is just chock full of surprises, Rogers laughs. He laughs, and his eyes are as brilliant as the sky above them. Tony swears his heart stops again. It's happened enough for him to recognize the feeling.
Tony knows he can be an asshole. He can be rude and obnoxious and interruptive, all very much asshole behaviors. The majority of the time, it's just an act. People have come to expect a show from him, whether they know it or not, and Tony's never been one to half-ass anything. The public wants a rich, smarmy bastard? He can do rich, smarmy bastard. He's the fucking poster boy for rich, smarmy bastard.
But Rogers, laughing with him, smiling at him after dealing with Tony Stark: Peak Asshole Edition™? It makes Tony pause. The joke isn't that funny (you try coming up with a zinger after sacrificing yourself for the sake of the world), so why is Rogers smiling? It's not that Tony hates himself so much to the point where he immediately distrusts any signs of affection. But Tony's Tony. And Steve is Steve.
"That's why," he tells himself. "This is Steve Rogers. Being kind is in his blood." There's only death in Tony's.
"You're a real piece of work, aren't you, Stark?" Steve says, chuckling to himself. There's no heat to his words.
"You wouldn't like me nearly half as much if I wasn't," Tony says and immediately wants to shovel the words back into his mouth. He and Steve aren't friends. Steve isn't like Rhodey or Happy or hell, even Romanov, who Tony's still not sure what the status of their relationship is.
Instead of rolling his eyes or sighing, that slight smile stays on his face.
"Okay," Tony thinks. "That's new."
Tony's got a new perspective on things. Maybe Rogers isn't that bad. That doesn't mean that they're friends, not even close. But, Tony thinks, as he shuffles from foot to foot outside the soldier's makeshift quarters on the Helicarrier, that doesn't mean he doesn't want to at least try.
Tony knows how to be the bigger person when he wants to be.
He knocks on the door, and before he can change his mind and retreat to Stark Tower like a recluse, Steve is opening the door.
Tony must have caught him while he was stripping out of his uniform; Steve's still wearing the bottoms of his suit, utility belt and combat boots in all. Aside from that, Steve is shirtless. Which is fine. Tony isn't going to question why Steve is shirtless, but it is hard to make direct eye contact with him when his abs are right there in front of Tony's face. And it's not like Steve didn't have time to put on a shirt before he answered the door.
"Stark?" Steve says. "I'm surprised to see you up and running."
Right. Near-death experience. "I may have bribed the doctors in the med-bay into letting me leave early," he says.
Steve frowns. Tony's quite familiar with Steve's frowns now. There's the "I can't believe you just said that" frown and the "Captain America is disappointed in you" frown, but this one, Tony can't seem to pinpoint.
"Your heart stopped."
"After the second time, you get used to it," he says with a shrug. "Look, I didn't come to talk about my medical issues."
A muscle works in Steve's jaw. Tony shouldn't find it as attractive as he does. "Why did you come, then?"
"I wanted to apologize."
Steve arches a brow. "For?"
"For being an ass." It comes out sounding like a question. "I...said some hurtful things, and I want to own up to them instead of sweeping them under the rug."
"It wasn't just you," Steve admits. "We both were at each other's throats."
"Still," Tony says. "You're not a lab rat. Not even close."
Steve's lips quirk up. "I'm a step up from rat, now?"
"Yes," Tony says. This is good. Steve is smiling instead of punching him in the face. Tony can handle this.
"You know...what you did today, that took courage."
Oh, God. Tony doesn't want this to be about him. (Despite popular belief, his ego isn't that fucking big.)
"Don't even mention it. Please," Tony says. "If you're not gonna let me apologize to you properly, at least let me do something for you, or buy you something. I'm great at buying things."
Steve frowns again, but his interest is piqued. "Like what?"
"I don't know, like a vintage car or something. A blowjob. Whatever floats your boat." Why did he say blowjob, why did he say blowjob, why the fuck did he say blowjob?
Steve's staring daggers into him. "Did you just offer to blow me?"
Seriously, why the fuck did he say blowjob?
"It was a joke," he says lamely.
"Oh," Steve says, his face dropping and—is Tony crazy, or does Steve actually look disappointed?
"I'm sorry. You don't have to if you don't want to," Steve says. "I thought...you know what, never mind." Steve's retreating back into the safety of his room, a blush flooding his cheeks.
Tony has two options, and he has to pick fast. He can either let this whole thing go and pretend it never happened, as that seems like it's what Steve wants to do. Or...he can roll with it.
"Wait," Tony says, grabbing Steve by the arm. His skin is hot to the touch. "It...it wouldn't be a chore or anything."
Steve swallows, looking Tony up and down. Tony feels oddly naked in front of him like Steve is seeing past every mask he's ever donned. "You mean that?" Steve says.
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it," Tony confesses. His stomach twists into knots. During their fight he had thought about Steve pinning him against a wall, wrapping a hand around his throat, kissing his mouth like a savage—
"Yeah?" Steve says, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips.
"Yeah," Tony breathes. The hallway feels like it's closing in on him.
Their eyes meet, and it's a matter of seconds before Steve's yanking Tony by his arm into the barrack.
Tony barely has any time to close the door and observe the room before Steve's on him.
He's kissing Captain America.
Tony Stark is kissing Captain America.
Steve kisses like he fights; All confidence and barely restrained power. Tony's back is pressed against the wall, but he can't find it in himself to complain as Steve's tongue finds its way into his mouth.
Tony doesn't know if they closed the door or not, and that sends an electric thrill running down his spine. Anybody could walk past and see him ready to fall to his knees and give Captain fucking America the blowjob of his life.
Steve slots his thigh in between Tony's legs, silently prompting him to spread them, and it's no skin off Tony's back to comply.
Steve's tongue is quick and clever, eliciting moans from Tony's mouth. Steve's a practiced kisser, and Tony's not sure if that bothers him or not. He had assumed that Steve was a precious virgin with 1940s sensibilities, but obviously, he had been with somebody. Tony wonders if it was recent and if Steve still thinks about them in his spare time.
The thought of Steve with another lover fills him with jealousy, and Tony finds himself kissing Steve harder. He winds his hands into Steve's hair and grinds his rapidly growing cock down on Steve's thick thigh.
Steve pulls back, chuckling as Tony chases after his lips.
"You're a needy one, huh?" he says, working at the fly of his tac suit.
"Like you're any better," Tony says, marveling at how out of breath he sounds. "You can barely get your pants down, you're so eager."
Steve raises his hands. "Alright, genius, you do it. I'll just stand here and look pretty."
Tony bites back a smile and instead makes quick work of Steve's fly.
"Oh, wow," he says softly when he pulls out Steve's cock, already hard and leaking precome. He's not a poet, but he's never seen a dick that looked so...nice. It's so hot in Tony's hands, like a brand. Steve keeps himself trimmed and neat, which makes sense, given the rest of his appearance. Tony can hear his heart beating a rapid rhythm in his chest as the gravity of what he's about to do hits him. It's not like he's never given a blowjob before, far from it. But this is Steve. Steve, who lied on registration forms just so he could serve his country. Steve, who freed prisoners of war with little to no help. Steve, who plunged a nuke-laden plane into the ocean without a second thought.
"Hey," Steve said. "I meant it when I said you don't have to do this if you don't want to. Are you still okay with this?"
Something in Tony's heart softens at that, and he silently pushes it down. This is a one time only situation. He can't afford to get feelings involved, so instead, he nods. "Yeah," he says, "You think I'd say no to this?" And with that, Tony fully sinks to his knees.
He takes Steve into his mouth before he can ask any more questions. A sharp intake of breath escapes Steve's mouth. Tony's hands come up to rest on Steve's well-muscled thighs. It's hard to breathe at first—Steve is so big, Tony would bet his fortune that he had been like this before the serum too.
Tony takes his time, and Steve lets him adjust to the foreign weight in his mouth. He breathes through his nose because he's not a goddamn amateur, and settles into a steady rhythm, bobbing his head along the length of Steve's dick.
Tony savors the little gasps and moans that Steve emits whenever he swallows around him or flicks his tongue a certain way. He commits them to his memory like a raven collects shining trinkets.
Steve's hand curls into Tony's hair, not necessarily pushing him down, though. Just a steady, almost comforting weight on Tony's head that makes something in the back of his mind purr in satisfaction.
"You're doing so good," Steve whispers it like it's a secret.
Tony looks up at him, and Steve looks just as wrecked as Tony feels. The blue of his eyes is naught but a thin ring overtaken by a pool of black. His skin is sweaty and flushed, his lips red and swollen from where he had been biting them to stifle his moans. Tony wants to devour him.
Steve's fingers tighten in his hair, and Tony's moaning himself now. Steve's eyes flutter shut, his mouth dropping into a slight 'o'.
"How can someone be so fucking beautiful?" Tony thinks.
His own cock tents his jeans, leaking precome, but Tony will deal with it later. He's not expecting Steve to return the favor. This is an apology, after all. An unconventional one, sure, but an apology all the same.
"I'm close," Steve says. "Do you want me to—"
Instead of answering, Tony hollows out his cheeks and sucks. His teeth ghost over a vein along the length of Steve's cock, and Steve's coming with a muffled shout into Tony's mouth. Tony's careful to swallow it all, not wanting any of Steve's come to go to waste. He tells himself that it's just so that there's less of a mess.
"Jesus, Tony," Steve says, his voice all scratchy like he had been the one on his knees for the past fifteen minutes.
Tony pulls off of Steve and looks up at him with big eyes, his lashes shining with unshed tears. Something primal crosses Steve's face, and he snaps. The next thing Tony knows, he's being hauled to his feet, and Steve's tongue is down his throat like he wants to become a part of Tony. A pang of arousal hits Tony in his stomach like a sucker-punch at the fact that Steve would still kiss him after what he had just done.
Steve unbuttons Tony's jeans with deft fingers and shoves one of his hands down Tony's jeans. He finds his cock with ease. Tony wraps his arms around Steve's neck and digs his fingers into Steve's skin as he jerks him hard and fast like he's trying to punish him.
It should hurt. But a savage part of Tony's brain revels in Steve's loss of control. Steve isn't Captain America right now, America's golden boy. He's Steve fucking Rogers, and he's taking what he wants, consequences be damned. Tony doesn't even bother trying to hide his cry when he comes hot and wet into Steve's hand, pleasure lighting up every single one of his nerves as if he has been struck by lightning. Tony's knees tremble, and if it weren't for Steve pinning him against the wall, he surely would have fallen to the ground.
Steve breaks their kiss and tucks his head into the nape of Tony's neck.
"God," he says, his voice like sandpaper. "God," he repeats as if that says everything that needs to be said. In a way, it does.
"Hell of an apology, huh?" Tony says. He's always known how to ruin a moment.
Steve gives him a breathless chuckle in return. "If that was your apology, I'd kill to see your 'thank you,'" he says.
"Give me something to be thankful for."
"Yeah?" Steve says, lifting his head up to look at him. His eyes are bright, but there's a glint to his gaze that makes Tony feel like he's being hunted.
"Yeah," Tony says. Steve's smile cuts like a knife.