Standard Deviation

Chapter 7

By jennagrins and karengrins

Saturday afternoon finds Tony up to his elbows in the arc reactor's delicate wirework. Strange is making an obscene amount of noise as he works away on whatever the hell it is his research involves. All Tony can hear is high-pitched whirring noises followed by a succession of loud beeps and a bang. He tries to block out the noise Strange makes but the beeping sets his teeth on edge. He doesn't mind a bit of noise while he works usually, not really. But his noise usually involves some rock music, not the sound of the damn centrafuse spinning for four fucking hours. And Tony doesn't care what Strange says, he totally stole Tony's protractor.

Who's idea was it that he should have to share his lab space anyway?

Tony is so focused on soldering wires together and blocking out Strange's incessant banging that he doesn't notice the figure standing practically on top of him until it clears its throat. Tony looks up and…

Shit.

"Steve," he blurts.

He's not sure how long Steve has been standing over him. He looks nervous, hands toying with the hem of his coat, eyes apprehensive. Tony wishes he'd known Steve was coming. He hasn't had time to figure out what he's going to say to him yet. And what's he doing here anyway? Oh god, this is the part where Steve finally calls him out. This is going to suck.

"Hey, um," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, "can we talk?"

Tony nods mutely and shuts off the welding torch.

"Privately?" Steve adds, nodding in Strange's direction meaningfully.

Yup, totally about to tell him off for his horrible, inappropriate professor ways. Fuck his life.

"Sure," Tony says, throwing on his coat. He's not crazy about the idea of Strange witnessing this either. "Let's take a walk."

Steve nods and follows him out of the lab. They make their way down the engineering building stairs in silence. Tony's extremely conscious of the space between them. When they get out into the quad, Steve turns to him.

Well, better get this over with. Tony opens his mouth to apologize and—

"I'm sorry," Steve blurts.

"What?" Tony says intelligently. What's Steve got to be sorry for? Tony's the one who acted inappropriately.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve repeats. "The way I acted on Tuesday…I'm really ashamed. You didn't deserve that. I still can't believe I said those things but I want you to know I didn't mean any of it. I'm so, so sorry."

"Steve, I'm the one who should be apologizing," Tony cuts him off. And he should be. He's the one who fucked up and crossed lines that weren't meant to be crossed. Still, Steve's apology eases some of the tension in his chest. If Steve came back and Steve is sorry too then that means that he probably still wants to be friends with Tony. "I – I didn't realize what I was doing or how it might be interpreted – how you clearly did interpret it. I didn't think, but that's no excuse. I know I put you in a really awkward position and I feel awful. I need you to know how sorry I am."

Steve's mouth twists. "Sorry for what?"

Right, he knows this. A vague apology is no apology at all. He's sure Pepper or Rhodey or Pepper and Rhodey both covered this in one of their many, many lectures on the subject of apologies. Well, spit it out, Stark.

"This is about my flirting, right?" Tony ducks his head and keeps his hands buried in his pockets as he talks. "I know I crossed the line. You don't have to worry, it won't happen again. I know it seems like—"

"Wait, no, Tony—" Steve tries to interrupt but Tony soldiers on. This is important.

"—like I don't take the whole professor thing seriously—because who am I kidding, I don't—but I do take abuse of power seriously. If I'd stopped and thought for just a minute…" Tony shakes his head, but keeps his eyes down. He'll never get this out if he has to look at Steve's disappointed face the whole time. "I never meant to put you in an uncomfortable position. We're friends, Steve. I'm sorry if you think—god, this is awkward—if you think that I was hitting on you. I wasn't. I would never do that. Never."

"Oh," Steve says quietly. Tony risks looking up at him and crap, Steve looks tense, jaw held tight. He avoids Tony's eyes, like the scenery over Tony's left shoulder is immensely fascinating. Is he making this worse? Tony can't tell, he only know that he needs to fix this, needs to make sure that Steve understands.

"It doesn't mean anything," Tony states, flapping his hand around. "I'm just a flirt, Steve. Really. I flirt with everything on two legs—and several things that aren't. Hell, I flirt with inanimate objects..." He gestures to the quad as if to prove his point. Steve's expression is strained. "...So it doesn't matter whether it's guys or girls or friends or whatever. It's all meaningless, you know? I just hope that you can overlook my lapse in judgment."

Steve looks at him finally. "So you do like guys…" He says it slowly, carefully.

"Yeah…but Steve, that doesn't mean I like you." Steve winces and Tony breaks eye contact, concentrating on the pavement in front of him. Steve looks like he's waiting for the sidewalk to open up and swallow him. God, he hopes he didn't just ruin things by confirming that he's not completely straight. He never got the homophobic vibe from Steve before but that isn't always an indication of a person's comfort level. Jesus, this is awkward. "I mean, I like you, obviously, just not like that," Tony corrects. "So who cares who I like? You don't have a problem with me being bi, do you?"

"No," Steve says loudly. Tony whips his head to look at Steve. That protest was a little over the top. Steve looks like he was startled by his own voice. He gives Tony a strained smile. "No," he repeats with less gusto, voice soft, "I mean, no, of course not. It's fine, Tony. So you're not…"

"No, I'm not into you," Tony confirms. He sighs. How else can he put this? "Just because I like guys, doesn't mean I like you that way, right? I mean, take you and Natasha. You like women, but it's not like that with her, right? I mean, you've never had anything going on with her, have you? Because if you have and you didn't tell me—" He cuts himself off. It's not the time for this. "Right, well anyway, you and me, we're like that. You're like – like a sister to me, Steve. So you don't need to be freaked out at all."

"Okay," Steve says slowly, swallowing hard. "That…clears things up."

They pause their walk once they reach the west side of campus. Steve shuffles his feet, lets his arms hang limply at his sides, looking off into the distance. Tony lets the silence stretch, unable to get a read on the situation. If Steve's okay, why does he still look so uneasy? They are still friends, right? That's why Steve came to talk to him in the first place, so they could move past this terrible misunderstanding.

"Um, Steve," Tony begins, "I know I messed up, but I really wish you would have come and talked to me first. Why didn't you tell me I was making you uncomfortable? If you'd've just said something, I could've explained—"

"I know, I'm sorry. You're right, I should have talked to you first." Steve gives him a thin smile. "I guess I just panicked."

Tony chuckles. "I guess I should just be glad you didn't punch me or something."

"What?" Steve looks horrified. "Tony, I would never—"

Poorly timed, Stark. He lasted three seconds before offending Steve again. Way to go.

"No, sorry, joke. Bad joke. Well kind of a joke. But I wasn't trying to say you would. I just…" Tony waves off Steve's protests. Once Steve looks soothed, Tony says, "But you know I wasn't responsible for your grades, right? Bruce has been marking all your stuff since September. Because we're friends and I was trying to be fair. I thought you knew that."

"I guess I just wasn't thinking," Steve mumbles.

"Right, well this is still my fault. I'll go talk to the dean or something. I can explain what happened and take full responsibility and I'm sure they'll let you back into the course."

"What? Tony, no." Steve's eyes go wide.

"Why not? This is my fault and you need stats to graduate, don't you?"

"What's done is done," he says firmly. "I'll just take it next term. It's not a big deal."

"I'm pretty sure you missed the drop deadline, peaches – um, I mean, Steve. I'm pretty sure you missed the drop deadline, Steve." God, he is really screwing this up. He's never going to convince Steve to let him make this right if he can't be appropriate for even thirty seconds. "So that means you're taking a zero on your transcript. I can't let you do that because of me."

Steve frowns, creases appearing between his eyebrows. He can't seriously think Tony is going to let him fail a class over this, can he?

"No, no, it's fine. I'm the one who overreacted."

"But Steve—"

"I don't want you to get into trouble because of me!" he snaps.

Tony falters. He didn't expect this from Steve, doesn't know what to make of this protective reaction. Does this mean Steve is really serious about continuing their friendship?

Steve takes a breath, then continues, "Look, this has clearly all been a misunderstanding. You didn't mean to flirt with me, I overreacted, it's fine. It's totally…fine."

"Right," Tony agrees. He needs to show Steve that he's serious about their friendship too. "I just want to be friends with you, Steve, that's it, I promise."

"Yep, yeah, I got that," Steve says, rocking back on his heels.

"Okay. So…"

"Friends?" says Steve, tilting his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Tony smiles. "Friends."

"Um, well, I know I interrupted your work, so I should really let you get back to it and we're really close to my neck of the woods so I'm gonna…" Steve trails off, jerking his thumb in the direction of his place.

"Right, sure. I guess I'll see you Tuesday?"

"Actually I'm trying to cut back on my coffee. All that Starbucks adds up, you know? But if I give in to my cravings I'll text you, okay?" He gives Tony a small smile.

"Um, sure, okay," Tony replies slowly. He can't help but feel like he just missed something.

"See you, Tony," Steve calls over his shoulder with a wave as he heads off towards home.

Tony watches him for a moment and fights back the urge to go running after him. That went well, right? Steve isn't mad at him. Hell, Steve even apologized for the way he handled things, which Tony never expected. And they're friends again. That's good, isn't it? This is exactly what he wanted…

Once Steve disappears around the corner, Tony heaves a sigh and turns to start the trek back to his lab. He tucks his hands into his pockets against the cold.

Steve wants to be his friend. Sure, he still seems a little uncomfortable with Tony's sexuality, but he's clearly trying. That's enough. They're friends, so it's not like this changes anything. It doesn't make a difference. Because it's not like he likes Steve.

Sure, Steve is stupid-hot, but he's always known that. And so what if he had him over for four full days and didn't get sick of him? He'll admit that he likes to spend a lot of time with him but that doesn't mean…

And so what if he wanted to be there for Steve when he was freaking out and Tony didn't mind not being alone when his parents called and pissed him off because Steve was the one there? And okay, so it's possible Tony was miserable when he thought Steve didn't want to be his friend anymore. And yeah, so maybe Steve's remarks on Tuesday had cut deeper than most people's because what he thinks matters to Tony.

But he doesn't…

Tony swallows against the lump in his throat. He can't help feeling like he's still missing something, a variable, some piece of the puzzle. Part of the equation just doesn't make sense.

Steve dropped him, his class, and he'd walked away without explanation. And sure, Steve apologized, but shouldn't he still feel angry and betrayed?

But…

Steve came back.

Tony stops mid-stride, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. Steve came back. Over the years, Tony's had a lot of so-called friends drop out of his life once they got what they needed from him. But unlike all those other part-time friends and users, Steve had actually come back. Just like after that first disastrous meeting way back in September, Steve turned up at his lab ready to try again.

And Tony had let him.

Because it was Steve.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

After all that protesting, all that denial, all the confusion, the missing variable is so laughably obvious.

He does. He likes Steve.

For a moment Tony feels like he's had the breath knocked out of him.

When did this happen? How did this happen?

No, he knows how. Steve is…god, he's everything Tony's ever wanted. Even setting aside how good looking he is, Steve's smart and funny and always up for Tony's crazy ideas. He knows better than to try to offer advice when Tony's upset and somehow still manages to make him feel better. He doesn't judge Tony's fucked up family shit. And Steve is good. He cares about people and doing the right thing and despite Tony's many, many shortcomings in these areas, for some crazy reason Steve likes him anyway. Steve came back. And he wants to be his friend, even after the terrible position Tony put him in. Even after Tony cost him a credit.

Because the very idea that Tony was hitting on him had sent him into a panic.

Fuck.

Tony feels the exhaustion of the last week catch up to him all of a sudden. He's just so tired. He just finished reassuring Steve that it wasn't like that and now… What a time for this revelation.

Fuckity fuck fuck, fuck his fucking life, fuck.

He can take care of this. He'll get it under control. He can't risk Steve's friendship again. It's fine. Fake it till you make it, right? He'll just keep this under wraps and soon enough he'll have forgotten he ever felt this way.

Steve's friendship is enough. It has to be.

So Tony will just bury this somewhere in between his need for his dad's approval and his hopes of ever having a healthy relationship. It's fine. He can do this.

After all, Tony's got a lot of experience wanting things he can't have.

Steve leaves Tony on the edge of campus. It takes everything in him not to run the whole way home.

Good god, that was painful.

Steve takes the steps to his house three at a time and throws open the door. He lets the screen slam behind him and pulls the inner door shut.

He sheds his coat, aims to put it on the hook, misses and doesn't even care. He wants this day to end. Now. Actually he'd like it if this day had never happened. He sighs and scrubs his hand across his face. He almost wants to laugh when he thinks about how foolishly optimistic he'd been the night before. But really…what had he expected? Did he really think he could go over to the lab, say "Hey Tony, I like you" and have everything fall into place?

Grow up, Rogers. He's such an idiot.

He kicks off his shoes and debates whether to crash on the couch, watch movies and pretend like this isn't his life, or maybe get an early start on happy hour. Steve doesn't believe alcohol is the solution to heartbreak, but if having the object of your affections basically hand you an essay entitled "Why I Don't Like You: An Overview of Just How Much" isn't an excuse to drink, Steve doesn't know what is. He just wants a beer. Yes, he'll get a beer, sit on the couch and figure out a plan for moving forward.

It's not like he's never crushed on someone who didn't return his feelings before, right? This is clearly the rejection the first sixteen years of his life were preparing him for.

Only, Tony hadn't said that he didn't like Steve, he'd said that he could never like Steve. Would never like Steve. But that doesn't make sense, does it? Hadn't Nat said that Tony flirted with him? Hadn't Thor thought they were dating? The ladies at Starbucks certainly do. Doesn't that mean anything?

Apparently not.

Yeah, he needs a drink.

He heads for the kitchen, but as he nears he's hit by the smell of coffee. He walks in…

And almost walks right into Clint.

"Jesus!" swears Clint. "When'd you get home?" He takes a step back from Steve, side-eyes the coffee pot. Steve follows his gazes and notes the coffee cups.

Steve squints at him. "A minute ago."

Clint nods in an obvious attempt to look nonchalant. His jeans are slung low on his hips, the top button undone.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Steve asks after a beat. It's not like Steve cares if Clint goes around shirtless—but it's two in the afternoon and Steve is pretty sure Clint was dressed before he left to talk to Tony. He hasn't even been gone an hour.

Clint looks down at his bare chest like he just noticed and then casually does up the button on his jeans. "I was…just grabbing something to eat. Didn't think anyone was around. I thought you'd be gone for a while." Clint points to the stairs and gestures to himself, "I'll just go…" He bounds up the stairs and disappears.

Steve shrugs and helps himself to a cup of coffee. Probably a better idea than beer in the long run. He opens the fridge to retrieve some milk.

"So, how'd it go?" asks Natasha, appearing over his left shoulder.

Steve gives her a look then closes the fridge door a little more firmly than necessary. "It was a goddamn disaster, Nat."

Natasha puts a hand on his shoulder, "What happened?" She pulls out two chairs from the table and they sit. Steve cradles his coffee.

"He doesn't like me, simple as that."

"Oh," Nat replies, looking surprised, "What did he say when you told him you liked him?"

Steve looks down at his coffee. "I didn't. There wasn't any point. He basically went on a diatribe about how he doesn't like me and was sorry if I thought that. He apologized for flirting with me, said it all meant nothing and seemed to think that the whole fight was because I thought my professor was hitting on me." Steve sighs.

"And you didn't correct him?" says Clint. He's standing in the kitchen entrance, fully clothed and looking slightly horrified.

"No!" exclaims Steve. "What do you say to that?"

"You tell him he's wrong!" Clint shoots back.

"You weren't there, Clint, you don't know what he said," Steve says, looking up at his friend, too weary to be annoyed.

"I don't care." Clint crosses his arms. "You can't let him keep thinking that you two fought over a little flirting. That's ridiculous."

"Clint," Natasha cuts in, "I think Steve did the best he could under the circumstances."

"No, Nat, he wussed out." The two are glaring at each other now. Then Clint looks over at Steve and shakes his head. "Steve, man, you took the easy way out."

Steve stares at Clint. Really? Clint is really giving him a hard time right now? After he just told him that Tony wasn't interested. Can't Clint see how upset he is?

"Tony practically gave me a dissertation on how unattractive he finds me. He was extremely passionate on the subject." Steve can feel his voice rising but he can't seem to help it. "And after listening to all that, you expected me to, what, share my feelings? Get real!"

"But all his assumptions are based on a false premise!" Clint snaps.

"Look," says Natasha, "Steve did the only thing he could do. Admitting that he liked Tony then would have only strained the friendship. Say what you like, Clint, it's awkward when someone has feelings for you that you don't return."

Steve gives Natasha a grateful look, thankful that someone gets it.

"But sometimes you have to fight for the things you want, Natasha," Clint says quietly.

Steve gets what Clint is saying. He does. And that probably explains why he feels so horrible right now. He lied to Tony. Sure, he didn't say "yes, your flirting is a problem" but he didn't deny it either. Steve isn't an idiot. But there was nothing else to say, no other explanation to offer that wouldn't feed into more lies. So he'd let Tony jump to conclusions…

"It's done, Clint," says Steve, shoulders slumping. "I can't dwell on that. He doesn't like me, end of story."

"Okay," Clint says. He wraps his arms around Steve and gives him a brief hug, patting his shoulder before pulling back, then saying "I'm sure you'll work it out, Steve. And like Nat said, you're still friends. That's something, right?" He gives Steve a smile.

Steve smiles back. Clint and Nat are right. He's confident that he and Tony can salvage their friendship, and maybe it won't be the same as it was before but at least they're still friends and for now, that will have to do.

Tony sees Pepper giving him an appraising look over the top of her mocha frappuccino. Oh crap. He knows that look. And really, he should have known better. This isn't the "friendly get together to catch up" that she'd suggested. This is going to be a full-fledged grilling. Oh joy, he loves those.

He takes several gulps of hot coffee to fortify him. Maybe he should have gotten an extra shot of espresso in here. A shot of brandy would've been even better. Why doesn't Starbucks offer those?

"Are you ready to talk about last week yet?" she asks.

Wow, straight to it. Pepper sure isn't wasting any time.

Tony gives her his best innocent smile. "What about last week? You mean when I got a shitload of research done? Because that was awesome."

She purses her lips. Yeah, Pepper knows better than to buy anything he's peddling. That girl is too smart by half. Still worth a shot though, right?

"Tell me about it," she suggests.

Tony eyes her suspiciously. Pepper has complained on more than one occasion that hearing about electrons and programming and atomic reactions makes her cross-eyed. But she waves him on with her straw impatiently and fine, Tony loves his research, if she wants to hear about it, who is he to say no? So he tells her all about the proton fusing, wire soldering and test simulations he ran last week. She lets him prattle on.

"And what did you get done on the weekend?" she asks when he finishes.

"Oh you know. More work. Work, work, work. You know how it is," he says, drumming his fingers on the table absently. When she continues looking at him expectantly, he continues, "Come on, this has to be boring you, Pep. You can't possibly be this interested in my research."

"Oh, I'm just trying to figure out when you talked to Steve."

He tenses. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Tony. It's Tuesday. Don't tell me you still haven't talked to him."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I have to talk to Steve?"

Pepper huffs an impatient sigh. "I believe you were going to apologize?"

Apologize… Shit. How does she even know about that anyway? He knows he didn't tell her anything. She shouldn't even know that he and Steve fought. The only person he talked to was—

"Motherfucker. I'm gonna kill that blabbermouth."

"Oh, come on, Tony. You know you were going to have to tell me sooner or later."

"No, I was pretty much counting on later coming never."

"He was worried about you, Tony. We both are."

"It's fine though, totally fine. Nothing to worry about!"

"Mhmm," Pepper says, swirling her frap with her straw. "So when are you going to talk to him? You need to handle this delicately. Start out by asking if you made him uncomfortable and see what he has to say."

"No, it's fine. We talked already."

"And?"

"You'll be happy to hear you've been proven right again, Pep. I crossed the line. So go ahead and get it over with. Tell me you told me so."

"What?" Pepper stops with her drink halfway to her mouth, staring at him over the crest of foam on top of the rim.

"My flirting made Steve uncomfortable, just like Rhodey thought. So you can say it."

"He said that?" Pepper says, lowering her cup back to the table without taking a sip. Why does she look surprised? Isn't this par for the course?

"Yeah…"

Pepper gives him a curious look. "So what set him off?"

"Um, my flirting? I thought I just said—"

"No, I mean, why was this suddenly a problem? You've been flirting with him since September and now it suddenly bothers him out of nowhere?"

"I, uh, I don't know," Tony says. He tries to remember what exactly Steve had said about what upset him and fails. "I didn't ask. I mean, I'm sure it was something I did."

"So what did he say? Just snapped at you that you needed to back off?"

Whoa, where is this coming from?

"No, no, Pep, it wasn't like that at all," he says, "He apologized for how he handled things too. I don't know, I didn't get too caught up in the details."

He'd just wanted to smooth things and get the conversation over with so they could go back to being friends again. He didn't need the particulars of his screw up.

Except…why hadn't Steve said anything before? He didn't think his flirting was that much worse on the weekend than it had been previously… But Steve is kind of naïve, maybe he hadn't noticed the flirting before. Except it's not like Steve was acting any differently during the weekend. Tony would have noticed if he had given even the slightest inkling that Tony was making him uncomfortable. Did someone point the flirting out to him?

Or…Steve made a point of confirming that Tony liked guys. Was the flirting okay when he thought it was a joke but maybe someone referenced Tony's bisexuality and suddenly it wasn't so fine anymore. Tony's head hurts. He doesn't want to think about this.

Her mouth twists. "I guess I'm just surprised…"

"Yeah, me too. I didn't expect Steve to come talk to me like that. It was clear he was really sorry even if he was pretty worked up by the whole thing. I had to make it clear that I didn't mean anything by it, that I'm not into him like that."

"Since when?"

"Noooooo, Pepper," Tony whines, "not this again. We're just friends! You know that, we've been over this before." There's no way he's confessing that she was totally right about his not-so-platonic feelings for Steve.

"Yeah, I didn't believe it then either."

Okay that was back in, like, October. There's no way he felt like this back in October…did he? This is totally not fair. No way Pepper figured out his feelings that much before him. Shouldn't the first person to know how he feels be him?

"Come on, Pepperoni," he wheedles. "Don't do this."

"Tony Stark, I don't know who you think you're talking to here, but I can smell your bullshit a mile away."

"So what?" he says, squeezing his coffee cup a little too tight. He feels laid bare with Pepper right now. He can't hide from her and right now all he wants to do is hide. So he tries one more time. "Now I can't have friends without wanting to fuck them?"

"Except you're not just friends with Steve," she says. "It's more than that. You're smitten with him. Every single minute you're not in the lab or in the classroom, you're spending it with him. And when you're not with him, you're texting him. Or talking about him."

"It's not like that," Tony croaks but his throat has gone dry.

"I've never seen you like this, Tony," she says, shaking her head. "I mean, you've even ditched your research to spend time with him. I've known you a couple years now and you've never done that before. Not even when you were dating Sunset. And you invited him over for Thanksgiving when I know for a fact you hate the holidays. Weren't you looking forward to having several days in the lab free from interruptions?"

"We worked…" Tony tries, but the protest is weak even to his own ears.

"You wouldn't do that for just anyone. Not for just any friend."

"I'd do it for you."

"For a day, yeah, but not four in a row. And you've known me a lot longer."

"Just drop it," he snaps. She stares at him without saying anything. After several long moments of this, he breaks. He can't handle her looking at him like that. "Okay fine, you're right, I like him, okay? Are you happy now? But look, he doesn't like me, Pep. He dropped my class and avoided me for a week over a little flirting. I was only able to salvage our friendship by swearing up and down that I don't like him like that. Can you imagine if I told him I want more?"

"Tony…"

"He'd never speak to me again," Tony sighs. "I can't…" He lets his voice trail off. He feels so defeated. He likes Steve. A lot. And he'd rather bury these – these feelings than let them destroy the friendship entirely. If Steve cut him out for good, he couldn't handle it.

"Do you really think he'd do that?"

"He already did once. I mean, hell, he's taking a fail on his transcript because he freaked out so bad. Why else would he drop my class two weeks before finals?"

"Maybe," Pepper says slowly, "he didn't want to be your student anymore."

"Well, yeah, obviously. Not after I failed completely as a prof."

"That's not what I meant." She pauses, tilts her head, looks at him. "Wait, you still think of yourself as his prof?"

"No, but forgetting that is what got me into trouble in the first place, isn't it?"

"So you really don't think—"

"Pepper, stop," Tony says. The last thing he needs is to have any surviving hopes. "He doesn't like me like that, trust me. Steve's like 150% straight."

She stares at him quietly for several long moments.

"So what are you going to do?" she asks finally.

"Same thing I've always done," Tony says with a shrug. He can do this. "Get over it."

"And in the meantime?"

"I don't know, I have to figure it out. I, uh, I'm not quite sure how to act around him anymore, to be honest. It's not like I ever stop flirting. I don't know. I'll work out something." Tony knocks back the last of his black eye and stands. "Okay well this was…awful. See ya later, Pep."

As he stomps out of the Starbucks, he imagines himself stomping on the flickers of hope Pepper had stirred up. Hope is the last thing he needs. No, what he needs is to get over this.

Steve is draped across big green, design textbook open on his chest. He's on chapter four. He's supposed to be on chapter twelve.

It's late afternoon and Steve is done all his classes for the day. The house is unusually quiet for midday, with the TV off and the kitchen empty. The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall above his head. Steve closes his eyes for a moment; reading about design isn't exactly titillating and he's had a stressful week.

"Hey," Clint says, materializing suddenly beside Steve.

"Gah!" Steve startles and nearly sends his book flying. Geez, where'd he come from? That guy is like a ninja sometimes.

Clint chuckles while Steve clutches his chest. "Give a guy some warning. You almost gave me a heart attack."

Clint settles on the couch, sprawling across the entire length. When Clint doesn't say anything, Steve picks up his book again.

"What are your plans this weekend?" Clint asks after a beat.

Steve shrugs. "Mmm, nothing much. Thought I'd finish up design." He lifts his textbook so Clint can see how much there is left to read.

"You're not hanging out with Tony?"

"No." Steve shakes his head. "I haven't heard from him since our chat."

He hasn't, not really. Steve texted him twice to let him know that he wouldn't be getting coffee on Tuesday or Thursday, but all he'd gotten back was an "alright" and "ok". Steve feels vaguely guilty about avoiding Tony, but Saturday's rejection still stings like an open wound.

"You're not going to," says Clint, staring up at the ceiling.

"Huh?"

"You're not going to hear from him."

"Why?" Steve's pretty sure he and Tony are friends again, at least on paper they are. True, things have been a little cool this week, but texting is a two-way street. Why wouldn't Tony text him?

"'Cause of how you ended it," replies Clint, looking at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

"What do you mean? We ended on friendly terms." Although the whole not showing up for coffee thing probably wasn't helping the situation.

Clint turns to face Steve. "If he thinks flirting is the problem, he's not going to initiate conversations with you. He's going to be on his guard."

"I highly doubt that," scoffs Steve. Tony isn't exactly the type of person to worry about offending someone. Surely Clint remembers the horror stories from stats class.

"Okay, so if a girl you liked suddenly said, 'Please stop flirting with me, it makes me uncomfortable,' would you continue to text her?"

"No, I guess not," Steve says slowly. He has the sudden urge to bang his head off the coffee table. Why does this all have to be so damn complicated? They made up, for crying out loud! Why would Tony feel the need to tiptoe around Steve's feelings? The answer is obvious, of course. Because Steve made this whole mess about his feelings.

Damn it all to hell.

He eyes Clint. He gets the feeling this conversation is some sort of intervention.

"You'd wait for her to make the first move, right?" Clint returns his gaze to the ceiling.

Steve glares at Clint over his textbook, "I know what you're doing."

Clint tries to look innocent but the grin gives him away. "And what is that exactly?" When Steve doesn't deign to answer, he continues, "You have to talk to him, Steve."

He's right, of course. Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket, types out a quick message to Tony, and hits send before he can over-think what he wrote.

- Hey, wanna hang out tomorrow?

Steve sets his phone down on the coffee table and looks over at Clint. "Happy now?"

Clint laughs. "Yeah."

Steve rolls his eyes as his phone chimes the arrival of a new message.

- Sure what did you have in mind?

Steve thinks for a moment. How can he let Tony know that everything is fine so they can go back to how they used to be?

He texts: Video games? He's already hit send when he realizes that he is essentially inviting himself over to Tony's, but he figures a healthy dose of Halo ought to get things back to normal.

His phone shows that Tony is writing, then vibrates in his hand. - Ok. 5pm?

Steve almost replies "it's a date" before realizing how horribly that would go over and hastily deletes the message. He amends his message and hits send: Sure, see you then.

Steve wants to be excited about seeing Tony. And he is, mostly. After all, who doesn't look forward to seeing their crush? But their texts felt so formal and lacking in any real warmth. There was no teasing. It was all just perfunctory.

Maybe Clint's just getting to him, but there's a significant part of him that's freaking out.

Why is he convinced that this is going to go terribly?

It's five o'clock on the dot when Tony buzzes Steve in to the apartment. Tony looks around his place. It looks fine but he isn't sure. Should he have tidied more?

After talking to Pepper on Tuesday, Tony spent a good chunk of the week in his lab trying to get Steve out of his head. It seems the only time he wasn't thinking about Steve was when he was up to his elbows in wiring.

He wasn't surprised when he got Steve's text Thursday telling him he wouldn't be coming for coffee. He was disappointed of course, but he figured Steve probably needed space. After his untimely little revelation, Tony probably needed some distance too.

He'd thought about texting Steve numerous times over the course of the week but had chickened out each time. After all, if he didn't talk to Steve then he couldn't flirt with him. It's strange to stop flirting only after realizing that he likes Steve. And these new boundaries feel strange and foreign. To be honest, he isn't even sure where exactly the boundaries are now. What can he say to Steve? It's frustrating.

But when Steve texted him yesterday, Tony still couldn't help but grin.

Yeah, he's a goner.

Tony heaves a sigh. How is this going to work? It was complicated enough before he'd puzzled out that he had feelings for Steve. Before, it was just casual, friendly flirting, but now Tony feels like he's got some deep, dark secret that needs to be hidden at all cost.

There's a rap at the door. Tony takes a deep breath and opens it.

And there's Steve.

Gorgeous, sexy, smart, funny Steve. Fuck.

Steve's face is open, eyes bright and friendly. He gives Tony a little wave and he's even got a bag of chips in his hand.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," says Tony, stepping aside to let him enter and carefully closing the door.

"Munchies." Steve tosses Tony the chips.

Tony catches the bag. "Thanks."

Steve toes off his shoes, removes his coat, and follows Tony into the apartment.

"So, how's your week been?" asks Tony after the silence stretches. He takes the chips into the kitchen, Steve right behind him. The air feels heavy somehow.

Steve shrugs. "Wasn't the greatest week of my life, but it was okay, I guess."

That's an understatement.

Tony nods. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asks as he opens the fridge. "I've got beer, some milk—but that might be left over from the last time you were here—and orange juice—also yours, I believe. And, of course, I've got coffee."

Steve is looking at him strangely from across the room. "Um, I'll have a beer, I guess."

Tony snags two bottles from the fridge and passes one to Steve, careful to make sure their hands don't touch in the exchange. Hand touching would be extremely inappropriate, right? Right.

"So, how are your classes?" Tony opens his bottle and tosses the opener to Steve. He contemplates the chips for a moment and decides to put them in a bowl. Bowls minimize the potential for accidental hand touching. Does he own a large bowl? He must.

Steve talks a bit about his design project and a group presentation he's working on for media while Tony rummages in the bottom cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks after a moment.

"Looking for a bowl." Tony surfaces from the cupboard empty-handed. He glares at the cupboard and kicks the door closed.

"You keep your bowls above the fridge," Steve says with a smirk.

Tony grins at Steve and shakes his head. "Of course you know my kitchen better than me, sweet— um, Steve." Tony cringes. "Sorry." He turns away immediately, but not before he sees the smile slip off Steve's face. Fuck. Tony boosts himself onto the counter, pulls down a large bowl and empties the bag of chips into it. He gets down off the counter and turns to glance at Steve. "Do you want anything else to eat?"

Steve is leaning against the doorframe, face neutral.

"No, thank you," he replies. Steve's voice sounds different somehow, quieter, more reserved.

"Alright, we're all set then." Tony grabs the chips and his beer. He gestures Steve through when he doesn't move from the doorway.

Steve's eyes search Tony's face for a moment before he finally turns and walks into the living room. Tony feels a small wave of anxiety. He's messing this up, isn't he?

"Great weather we're having," Tony says before he can stop himself.

Oh god, did he really just say that? Steve's shoulders stiffen but he doesn't turn around. Tony wants to kick himself. What is he doing? He's acting like he's at one of his mother's soirees trying not to offend some ancient relative, not hanging out with one of his best friends. Ugh. He just doesn't know what's appropriate anymore.

Steve flops onto the couch and Tony follows suit, careful to leave a respectable amount of space between them. He sets the chips and beer on the coffee table.

"I think it's supposed to get warmer later in the week," Tony adds, now that he's committed himself to one of the most impersonal conversation topics possible.

"Really?" Steve says, staring at him. "We're really going to talk about the weather?"

"What's wrong with the weather?" When Tony starts something, he finishes it. Besides, the weather is least likely to lead to accidental flirting. "You don't care about unseasonal warm spells?"

"Would you just stop it?" Steve snaps.

"Stop what?" he asks helplessly. Steve can't get mad at him for this. This is totally above board.

"The way you're acting!" Steve gestures with one arm, which Tony supposes is supposed to encompass his behaviour, but he can't be sure. Steve's voice is tight with exasperation, but Tony doesn't understand what he's done to make him sound that way. There was only the one little slip, surely Steve can't be that mad over it? He's being so careful…

"You're going to need to be more specific," Tony says. "I'm honestly not sure how I screwed up this time. What did I do wrong? I really didn't think… Is this because I almost accidentally called you sweetheart? Because I caught myself. I'm trying, Steve, I really am. At this point, I don't know what else I can do."

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "You don't have to be so careful, Tony."

"No," Tony says. "No, I do, or else I'm going to start flirting with you. I told you, Steve, it's not something I mean to do, I just flirt without thinking."

"So flirt then, I don't care," says Steve, sounding exasperated.

That brings Tony up short. "What?"

"I'm not upset about the flirting, Tony," Steve says, and okay, now Tony's really confused because that doesn't make any sense at all. Isn't that what this whole thing's about? He eyes Steve suspiciously. "I get that you're not interested in me like that, okay? You made that very, very clear. But you don't have to go acting differently because of me. Just be yourself."

Tony shakes his head. "But we talked about this. I thought this was what you wanted…" When did he step into bizzarro world? Steve's the one who barely talked to him for two weeks because Tony made him uncomfortable.

"Of course not. I don't want you to be a completely different person. I never said that," Steve says sharply.

"No, you said that my flirting freaked you out and that you panicked," Tony says, frustration creeping into his voice.

"I didn't say I wanted you to change!" Steve retorts.

"Of course I had to change!" Tony exclaims. "I was making you uncomfortable! Steve, I'm an all or nothing kind of guy. I'm either in full blown playboy mode or I'm, well, like this. There's really no in-between, toned down, just-a-little friendly mode. I'm sorry."

Steve clenches his fists. "Stop apologizing! I'm not asking you to change at all. Just go back to being you." He pauses for a breath. "Look, I understand that it doesn't mean anything. I can handle it."

"Really? 'Cause apparently you can't."

"Tony—" Steve says, voice pleading.

"I don't know what to do here," says Tony, gesturing to the space between them. "You stop talking to me because I make you uncomfortable, I apologize, I change, and now you're saying it's not good enough?" His disbelief infuses his voice.

"No, Tony, I—"

"This isn't easy for me, Steve." It's not. It's not fair really that he has to constantly censor himself, constantly be on his guard on the off chance Steve decides to end the friendship again.

"I get that and I am sorry," Steve says quietly. "I know I'm sending mixed signals. It's just because I want—" Steve cuts himself off abruptly and looks away.

"Steve?" Tony asks tentatively.

"Never mind." Steve shakes his head wearily. "Just be yourself, okay?"

"It sounded like you were about to tell me you want something?"

"It's nothing. It's fine." Steve picks up his beer and takes a drink, careful to avoid Tony's questioning gaze.

"But you started to say that you want—"

"What I want doesn't matter," he says, eyes flicking to Tony's face.

"No, it matters. A lot, actually," says Tony. He goes to put a hand on Steve's arm but stops himself.

Steve looks down at his hands. "It's stupid, don't worry about it."

"Steve, I am so fucking confused here. Would you please just tell me what's going on?" For the last week Tony has been trying to play by Steve's rules and for what? To get yelled at more?

"Please don't do this, Tony. Please don't make me say it." Steve looks tense and desperate. And he's red—that can't be a blush, can it?

"Please, Steve," Tony says quietly. What does Steve want from him? How can he fix this if he doesn't understand?

Steve exhales. "I'm saying that if we can't be more than friends, I at least don't want to be less. So please, just go back to the way you were before, okay? I miss that Tony. The one who wasn't so…careful all the time. And this…whatever…" Steve flaps his hand, "I'll deal with it."

What?

"More than…?" Tony echoes. Did he hear that right? Tony can barely breathe around the bundle of nerves in his chest. Steve can't mean… He doesn't… Tony has to be reading this wrong, right? He swallows hard. "What will you deal with?"

Steve turns his head to the side and gives Tony a long look. "My feelings," he says finally, voice tight. His grip on his beer bottle has gone white.

"Your feelings," Tony repeats dumbly. Does he mean his discomfort? Because surely Steve couldn't possibly mean the other kind. "You're going to have to spell this out for me. You've been having a lot of feelings lately."

"What does that even mean?" Steve demands.

"Exactly," says Tony, "What does that mean?"

"You're talking in circles." Steve throws his hands in the air, practically vibrating with tension.

"No kidding. You're not making any sense." He scowls. "You were going to say something so why don't you just spit it out?"

Steve glares at him. "I like you, Tony," he snaps.

"You know, generally when people say that they're not glaring at—oh my god, you like me? Wait, no, you can't like me, that doesn't make any sense. I'm misunderstanding you, right? I cut you off before you got to the but."

"The but?" Steve echoes, scrunching his forehead. At least Tony's not the only one completely lost in this conversation anymore.

"You know, 'I like you, Tony, but you're too loud, too annoying, too difficult, just too much, etcetera, etcetera.' Whatever, you've got a lot of choices. Take your pick."

"You're fine the way you are," Steve sighs. "I wasn't saying that at all."

"This still makes no sense. You can't like me." Tony boggles. "You're the one who went running because my flirting scared you!"

"I didn't disappear because of anything you did, Tony," Steve says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. He seems to be finding the ceiling fascinating. "That, um, that was when I realized…"

"…that you like me."

"Yeah."

"And just so we're clear…you don't mean like 'Gosh, Tony, you're such a good friend. I like you a lot!'" Tony knows he's being difficult, but he can't help himself. He actually can't wrap his head around what Steve is saying. It can't possibly mean what he thinks it means. Did the definition of like change when he wasn't looking?

Steve sighs, crosses his arms defensively. "No, Tony. So now you know but it's not a big deal!"

"The hell it isn't," Tony declares, turning to face Steve squarely.

Steve stiffens. "Please… Nothing needs to change. You don't have to act differently. Just be you."

"Because you like me."

"I think we've covered this," Steve says exasperatedly.

"You're an idiot," Tony says.

"Right. Maybe I should go…" Steve says and then he actually starts to stand up and hell no. Tony catches Steve's arm and pulls him down again.

"Sit down. You're not going anywhere," Tony orders. "I'm an idiot too." He runs his hand through his hair, lets out a little laugh. "We are both idiots!"

"Tony…?" Steve says and Tony sees hope in his eyes for the first time in weeks.

And god help him, but he's hopeful too. Could it really be that Steve feels the same way about him?

He leans into Steve, says "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong," and kisses him.

The kiss is brief, just a closed mouth press of lips, but Steve doesn't jerk or pull away. When Tony leans back, Steve blinks at him, eyes wide.

"But you said—" Steve starts.

"Let's not focus on what I said. The past is the past, water under the bridge, water off a duck's back, totally not important!"

"You said I was like a sister to you, Tony," Steve deadpans.

Tony winces. "I might have said some things that weren't, strictly speaking, true," he says. Steve raises an eyebrow at him. He so regrets teaching Steve that move. He huffs, "I thought that's what you wanted to hear! You could've said something too, you know."

"Why do you think I came to your lab? I was going to tell you, only then you kept going on and on about how unattractive you found me and how you could never like me!"

"Right. I think we covered this with the part where I declared I was an idiot too." He leans in closer to Steve. "Because obviously you are stupid-hot."

"Right," Steve chokes on a laugh, but he's smiling. "So when you said—you know what, I don't care. Can I kiss you again?"

Tony nods wordlessly. This can't be real, he thinks as Steve cups his face in his hands. This is his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. And then Steve closes the distance between them and his lips are back on his and it certainly feels real enough and oh, this is nice.

Steve's lips are every bit as full and soft as he'd dreamed they'd be and then Steve's coaxing Tony's mouth open and his tongue slides in and that's about when Tony loses all ability to think. The slide of Steve's mouth against his is perfect, he didn't realize how desperate for it he was until now, when he's finally allowed to have it. How could he ever have thought this wasn't everything he's ever wanted? Tony slides his tongue along Steve's and it's wet and hot and so good that Tony can barely even stand it.

And then Steve pulls him closer and makes a little noise that Tony feels all the way down. He grabs onto Steve's bicep for some kind of purchase, he needs an anchor in all of this, and oh god, Steve's bicep. He squeezes harder and maybe a little noise escapes him too but he's not entirely sure because Steve is kissing him. How can he be expected to be sure of anything? He's not even sure of his own name.

When he's been thoroughly kissed, Steve breaks away and presses his forehead against Tony's. Tony's gratified to see that Steve's out of breath too.

"Okay, I get it now," he says. "You like me."

"Shut up, Tony," Steve says, but his voice is that deep, fond tone that Tony adores.

"So wait a minute. Does this mean that all of this—you dropping stats and avoiding me and acting all weird—that was because you like me?"

"Um. Yeah," Steve says. Tony stares at where Steve's blush disappears under the collar of his t-shirt. He wants to follow it all the way down.

A thought occurs to him and he pulls back to stare at Steve incredulously. "Wait a minute, you mean you're taking a zero on your transcript because you like me?!"

"Yes?" Steve says. "Okay, when you put it like that it sounds stupid but I wasn't lying when I said I panicked when I realized how crazy I am about you. And then I started to think that the whole thing just looked bad and I didn't want you to get into trouble because of me."

"You were concerned for my honour. I'm touched," Tony says around a grin. "Don't worry, I took care of it. As far as the school is concerned, you were always going to take stats second term."

Steve stares at him. "What?"

"Let's just say the registrar's network security is not the most advanced." Tony smirks.

"Tony," Steve says disapprovingly.

"What? I wasn't going to let you take a freaking fail!"

"So," Steve says, drawing the syllable out slowly, "really, it's like I was never your student at all." Steve's eyes go bright and ohhhh, Tony sees where he's going with this.

He pulls Steve in again, catches his bottom lip between his teeth, and yeah, he could definitely get used to this. He never wants to stop kissing this gorgeous man.

Shit.

"Wait," he says, pulling back. Steve looks at him questioningly. "You only do relationships."

"Yes…" Steve says slowly.

"I don't do relationships. This is terrible." He sees Steve's face fall and pulls him in close again, says "No, you don't understand. The horrible part, darlin', is that I want to with you."

Steve gives him a ridiculous lopsided smile that should look goofy, but Tony just finds it sexy.

"You asking me out on a date, Stark?" he asks.

"Yeah," Tony says. "I guess I am. So what do you think?"

Steve just kisses him again. And really, that's answer enough.

The End

Notes:

Standard Deviation is finished, but the journey does not end here! This is just the first fic in a planned series. Next up is a little coda to the ending, showing what happens *ahem* after Steve and Tony get together. We couldn't put it in this chapter since we were trying to keep our T rating. That should be up before the end of the month.

A great big thank you to everyone who read and reviewed our fic. Your kind words sustained and inspired us.

As a thank you, please feel free to leave your requests for little snippets from Standard Deviation that you wanted to see. This can be a little scene from a different character's point of view or something that we didn't show you at all. We'll post the ficlets to tumblr. :)