A/N: I've decided to upload all my fics into a single account. eye of the beholder until let the walls break down were originally only uploaded to my AO3 account, callingthequits. Then I went back to my roots and thought, "Hey, why not post it on Fanfiction too?" so here I am.

No person that is sane would call him stupid. He's not; he's a genius, got it written on his business cards, and everything. Being stupid is possibly the one thing he is physically incapable of doing. Or mentally, should he have said mentally? The brain is part of the body, so, maybe using physically is okay...hm. But the brain is the thing that thinks, so mentally should be more appropriate. You know what, why is he fussing over this anyway? Words are not his thing. His thing is being a mix of crazy, daddy issues, and robots. And being smart.

Not stupid. Because he's not. Tony has seen the way Steve looks at him. It's glaringly obvious and really damn obvious. So obvious, in fact, that even Thor's picked up on the obviousness of it all. Hell, even Dummy has. Every time Steve heads down to the workshop, he's pushing him at Tony like he's subtle about it. Well, you know, not that Tony actually minds...body heat, body heat is a good thing, good energy, and stuff.

He groans and clutches his head. Four a.m. is too early to sleep, let alone think about complex things like self-discovery and emotions. Nope. He's saving that for adolescent teenagers, thank you very much.

"Jarvis, make me some coffee, will you?" He mumbles, knowing that the AI, with his auditory senses, would be able to hear it.

"Of course, Sir," Jarvis quips, and Tony never gets tired of watching of watching the coffee maker just turn on, even though he's five feet away and his arms aren't exactly that long and he can't control things with his mind. Nope, no, nu-uh. He's just Tony Stark, and maybe he's a genius one, but he's still just a plain human. He doesn't get spy training, a god for a father, or chemicals running in his blood. He was born a rich and genius, but a rich and genius ordinary mortal. Knowing that he could, and did, create something that's entirely unique and his own, is something he lives for. He smiles into his waiting cup, and maybe he's hallucinating, but it seems like his coffee is ready a few seconds faster than normal.

He pours it out, adding a few spoons of cream and sugar, then takes a sip. "J," he croons, because let's be honest here: Jarvis is his baby. He's like that one kid you have that's everything you ever wanted him to be; happy and successful. And J? He's the absolute best. "Have I ever told you just how wonderful you are?"

"Perhaps once or approximately thirty-seven times this week, Sir," Jarvis says, and Tony laughs, tipping his head back. Tony will lie about a lot of things, but he will never deny the fact that his bots are awesome. Because those bots? Dysfunctional and impossible as they are, they're his. And will never be ashamed of that.

"Gee," someone says by the kitchen door, and Tony knows who it is without even looking. Nevertheless, he tilts his head to see Steve smiling, empty glass in hand, in sweatpants and a loose shirt. "Sorry to interrupt something intimate," he says, walking in. Without even thinking about it, he lets himself grin, an open loose grin that lets his teeth show. Steve looks at him, smiles hesitantly, a blush forming on his face.

Tony allows himself to be lost in blue for a bit, before setting his cup down on the counter. "Nothing intimate about it, Steve, don't be jealous," he says, still grinning, and ignoring the sudden burst of warmth he's feeling. Magic of coffee after a fifteen hour creativity binge, he supposes. "I still love you most, I think," he winks, and Steve is still smiling, so. Okay.

"Hey, Steve," he says, walking over the man. Tony notes that Steve turns a bit redder, gulping, and also notes that Steve has to look down to see him properly. Why does Steve have to be so tall, and he has to be so short anyway? Unfairunfaiunfair, his mind chants, but his face is still the eyes shining, broadly grinning Tony he knows Steve is seeing.

He doesn't miss the way Steve looks at him in that moment, his eyes dipping lower, leaning down. Tony is too well-acquainted with that look to ignore it. It's the face of a man who's hungry. Hungry in the way only another person can satiate.

And, whoever's up there help him, but he gulps too.

"Hey," he says in a puff of breath, a puff of breath that's the only thing separating them now. Tony maybe, maybe steals a glance at Steve's lips, to find them pink and open and waiting. He looks back up, seeing blue, all of it blue, and so familiar and so, so loving.

And that's it. That's the way Steve's been looking at him since three months ago when he finally let himself loose around the other Avengers, when he finally let himself genuinely smile at movie night. Back then, Clint had smirked and said, "Looks like we finally cracked the great Tony Stark," and Thor had boomed, "Anthony! It is a pleasure to see you so gleeful this day!" and Bruce had a this pleased, content expression on his face, and Natasha, when he glanced at her, it almost seemed like she was smiling back.

And Steve had looked at him, and gave one of his blinding grins, and kept on looking like he looked at Tony from then on after. Like right now, early morning at the kitchen, the both of them probably just looking for a drink, just happening to find each other, and ending up with the both of them staring at each other in suspended animation. Tony sucks in a breath because this is awkward, and the heat in this room is outstanding, honestly. You mix that together and you regret it because you rendered Tony Stark unable to breathe, and you should ashamed of yourself. Tony sucks in a breath because he needs air, and it feels like he's suffocating. Tony sucks in a breath because he has to, otherwise it'd be silent and dramatic and meeting people in the kitchen doesn't need to be silent and dramatic, Jesus Christ.

Tony sucks in a breath, because Steve is looking at him like he's precious, and he can't deal with that.

"Hey yourself," Steve finally breathes back, and Tony can smell mint and orange juice. And he wants, he honestly just wants, for all of this tension in the air to go away, make this less uncomfortable, just let him take his coffee and go. But he breathes in Steve's air, and Steve breathes in his, and neither of them move. For a moment, they are staring at each other, then Steve dips lower, and Tony leans forward, eyelids fluttering shut, and-

Air.

Tony opens his eyes, and looks at Steve, who looks panicked and is a foot away from where he should be. Steve is fidgeting and awkward and isn't looking at him. He cocks his head at him in a confused motion, which Steve's peripheral vision catches and Steve glances at him, baby blue on brown, and looks away.

"Steve-" Tony says, stepping forward, and Steve quickly says, "We should wait 'til morning, yeah?" Then he's off, and Tony can still hear his slippers slapping the floor. Leaving him alone.

He sucks in a breath, shakily, because for one moment, he had wanted for the same thing Steve did. Each other.

And, you know, maybe Tony is stupid after all, because for all the times he caught Steve looking at him, he hadn't been able to catch himself looking at Steve.