The Avengers had just finished their second mission, it wasn't as bad or as apocalyptic as the

first but it had still taken them a hell of a lot of effort to defeat an army of around 50 genetically

enhanced bears who had been released into New York city.

Tony was just glad the whole ordeal was over.

They were making their way back to a hotel because everyone was too tired to travel back to

headquarters that evening, except for Thor who had decided to go back to Asgard in order to

tell his father of their latest triumph, cute, really.

Tony sat at the back of the minibus, alone on the four seats. Steve and Natasha were at the

front, two rows before him and Steve seemed to have fallen asleep. He was resting his cheek on

her shoulder and every now and then she would give his neatly combed hair an affectionate pat

before turning to glare at him and Clint as if daring them to say something. They didn't of course,

but Tony was pretty sure that if anyone else even came within touching distance of Natasha then

she would break their necks. However, for a reason that Tony can't possibly fathom, she doesn't

mind Steve.

Clint is sitting behind them and is literally playing with death when he pokes Steve in the back of

the head. He turns around to smirk at Tony who stifles a laugh as Steve jerks awake. He whips

around to look at Clint, who must feel at least a little bad because Steve doesn't even look

angry- just a little scared. Tony supposes that considering he once woke up from a sleep to find

everyone he knew was dead and gone and he was about seventy years old, this is to be

accepted. He even feels a little sorry for the man, and he's Tony Stark.

Natasha says something to him that the others can't hear and Steve almost smiles at her. He then

rests his head back on her shoulder.

"Thanks Tash." he mumbles. Natasha touches his smooth cheek gentley before she turns around

slowly to mouth a threat at Clint.

"I will skin you." He holds his hands up in mock innocence but if he has any sense at all then

Tony expects he just shat himself. He shakes his head and turns to Bruce who sits alone on the

other side, behind Coulson who occupies the drivers seat, he's bent over a notebook of some

kind and is writing in his small, neat, controlled strokes. Tony doesn't know what he writes in his

book, only that he spends a lot of time writing it. Curiosity eventually beats exhaustion as he

scoots over to the seat behind Banner and quietly folds his arms over the chair to prop himself

up. He is taken aback by the scribbled words and the forms they take on the page, he's writing

poetry. Tony almost laughs at the mental image of The Other Guy reciting poetry but holds it in

as he slumps back down into his chair. He sighs, all apparent signs of entertainment on the

minibus gone.

He puts his feet up beside him and tries to get some sleep in the final ten minutes before they

reach the disappointingly shabby hotel.

Tony can't help but mutter something about how he could actually of bought the entire hotel and

one a lot nicer besides as he slopes inside with his assigned rucksack over one muscular

shoulder.

There were enough beds for them all, of course there were.

But then Natasha had refused to share a room with either Tony or Clint and they weren't stupid

enough to argue, surprisingly.

Steve said that he wasn't going to share a room with Natasha because he didn't want

to 'accidentally see her naked' or something(a comment that earned him a smile from Natasha

that was about as close to loving as she got).

Then Clint and Steve had bagsied the beds and actually high-fived (yes, Steve Rogers high-

fived) at the disgruntled expression on Tony's face. As a result Tony ended up sleeping on the

floor.

A folded duvet and a towel-styled-into-a-pillow were all that he had. They spend a while

getting ready for bed but they're too tired to shower tonight so they just change into their

pajamas and slip into bed, well, almost-bed in Tony's case. He is just getting comfortable when

Steve's face appears above his off the end of his bed, looking annoyingly cheerful. He grins at

Tony and Tony hears him kick his feet against the mattress happily. It's as though he just

reverted back to his 5 year old self.

Tony takes in the fact that Steve is wearing thick red gingham pajamas and takes a mental note

to resent whichever SHIELD worker assigned with him with just a thin t-shirt and worn jogging

pants.

"This is exciting." Steve says quickly. Tony sighs, ready to regret his next words.

"What is?"

"This!" Steve wriggles his arm free of his duvet and it comes to join his face in Tony's line of

vision to encompass the room. "I've never stayed in a hotel before, especially not a nice one like

this." Tony laughs.

"Steve, this is not a nice hotel." Steve looks at him skeptically.

"I think it is, it's nice and cosy. Also, it's clean and you can reach basically anything from your

bed." Tony thinks for a moment and he can almost see where Steve is coming from but then a

pillow hits him in the face. At first he thinks that Steve is attempting to start a pillow fight- he

wouldn't put it past him, until then he hears Clint's annoyed tone.

"Will you two shut the hell up and go to sleep." Steve's face disappears.

"You're not getting that pillow back, smartass." Tony calls and Clint just grunts at him.

"Shut up and sleep or i will knock you both out." Steve obviously takes Clint seriously as he

flicks his bedside light out. There is darkness and quiet for a minute and Tony thinks the others

are asleep, he can definitely hear snoring coming from Clint's bed, until Steve speaks again. His

tone is more subdued this time and Tony misses the excitement that was there before, the

excitement that is only there with Steve because no other fully-grown adult could sound so

happy about a freaking 3 star hotel room. He supposes this is why Natasha is always so caring

when it comes to Steve, in fact perhaps this is why all of the avengers try to keep an eye out for

him, he seems so innocent.

Even Fury has had words with Tony about looking out for Steve when on a mission.

Tony remembers their first meeting with a painful clarity. He remembers how he's disregarded

Steve as some naive, patriotic type who was as out of his depth as he was out of his time. He

remembers how defensive Steve was, it was so easy to taunt him that he almost feels guilty. He

also remembers how happy Steve had looked when Tony opened his eyes after disposing of the

bomb- as if just like that all of the unplesant things they had said to each other were forgotten.

He guesses that in Steve's eyes they had been because they were part of a team then.

After that Tony had laid off him a bit and took his anger out on Clint instead, who was much better

equipped to deal with the taunts and insults that Tony threw his way and more than ready to

respond.

Tony might even say that they were friends now, maybe. Because as a general rule Tony tried to

avoid friends but with Steve, telling him they couldn't be friends was like punching a puppy in the

face and then laughing at it. Also, if Natasha could like him, Tony sure as hell could as well.

He cuts his mental rambling when Steve speaks.

"It's nicer than the place at SHIELD where i normally sleep at least." Tony isn't sure whether

Steve knows he's awake or not but he stays quiet anyway because even if Steve wanted a

response he wouldn't know what to say.

His final thought before he slept was of Natasha and of what she could of said to Steve on the

minibus that made him almost smile. He wished she'd been there a moment ago so she could

make Steve almost smile again and take away some of the loneliness in his voice that seemed

still to echo through the quiet hotel room.

still total and the night is still quiet, he turns his head to the sides and almost jumps.

Steve is sitting beside his pillow, which now lays on the floor, he's opened the curtain a crack so

that he can see out and there he sits, with his legs crossed.

Watching.

The light of:

-the moon

-the stars

-the cars

-the city

shines through that crack in the curtains and slices Steve's face in half, his skin is so pale that it

takes on the orange glow of outside as its own fire burnt pallor.

His blue eyes are un blinking and his mouth is moving slightly as though mumbling or chewing

something. He is still wearing the red pajamas that are twisted over his chest and the buttons

are stretched to reveal the outline of his sculpted torso. Even now, with his perfect frame Steve

sits as though he is slowly fading and withering away, still used to his younger, smaller self.

He seems to slowly detect Tony's wide-eyed gaze as he drinks in this statue of the night and the

starlight that Steve has become. He only has to turn his face a centimeter to see Tony, frozen in

the spotlights of the light that Steve's startlingly blue eyes reflect- or perhaps it's coming from

within, it's almost impossible to tell and in that one illuminated moment Tony could believe

anything.

Including what happens next.

Maybe Tony is still dreaming, perhaps he is past dreaming, perhaps his dreams were the real

thing and the rest of his life just occupies the time whilst he is awake. They both feel real whilst

he is there, whilst they were there and before they flickered out of existence.

Gracefully, Steve leans over towards Tony. The shirt stretching slightly, revealing a slither of

silvery-pale flesh at the small of Steve's back and the muscles in his arms tense as he rests his

weight on them. He leans a little closer.

Then he is suddenly very close, so close that Tony can feel his warm breaths on his face and

Steve's soft blond fringe sweeping over his cheekbone as he brings his mouth to Tony's ear.

"It's all so beautiful, in the dark, when you can't see it properly." his breath is icy as though the

past few months haven't happened and he has only just emerged from the ice. His voice soft

against Tony's skin; he stays stone still for a moment longer before pulling away slightly. "You

should go back to sleep." His whispers then, the words graze Tony's ear as they slip through

and lodge into his mind and he is about to agree, entranced by this new Steve, but then he

notices the slight catch in his voice.

up.

A tiny slip

Tony steels himself against the air beyond his bed sheet and reaches out a hand to grasp Steve's

wrist. Steve looks around to see where their skin meets; his mouth in a perfectly formed 'o' and

a look of mild surprise dancing in his bright eyes. Tony's tanned skin against Steve's pale

complexion.

"Properly?" Tony mumbles and in his sleep-hazed state he can't muster even a trace of his usual

smug sarcasm.

When he speaks next Steve's voice holds the dregs of a truth he's not familiar with speaking, it

seems. "This is how the city looks, properly, at night when it's dark and not clouded by people.

When i can look out and, if i squint, imagine that i was still home. Not here, alone."

Tony watches Steve turn back to the sky and his mouth twitch up into a momentary smile

before he feels like an intruder and closes his eyes. He hears a gentle rustling but it's a moment

before he realizes that Steve has moved closer again. He feels Steve's mouth kiss his eyelids

gently, his lips aren't soft, they're bitten and torn and broken but they're alive and they are

Steve. Alive. Steve. The two words mingle themselves together in his foggy mind and it hits

Tony how happy he is that they both co-exist, that Steve's so alive.

He realizes then that he really must be tired, or dreaming because when he reaches a hand up to

rest on Steve's cheek the man doesn't pull away. Tony opens his eyes again and he stares up at

Steve, his lips parted slightly, his hair hanging forward and his eyes desperate. He realizes that

he was right, he doesn't know the right words to say to help Steve, but he can still help. Tony

barely hesitates before propping himself up on the elbow that isn't still reaching up to rest against

Steve's cheek. He moves his fingers to tangle into Steve's soft hair and pulls him gently down.

Their noses touch and then neither of them move for a moment. They remain, breathing heavily,

staring, searching each other. Tony snaps first and he tilts his face upwards until their mouths

meet. The angle is awkward but neither of them really cares, they just want to feel someone

else. Steve follows Tony's lead and parts his lips, tongue slipping forward questioningly. Tony

smiles against him, he can't help himself; even when kissing Steve is almost unbearably polite.

He pushes forward, stroking along the side of Steve's tongue with his own. Steve gasps, a little

out of breath already. Tony can taste the bubblegum flavoured toothpaste that Steve had insisted

on using after he'd discovered it in the supermarket and his tongue darts over Steve's teeth in an

attempt to find more of the sweet flavour. Then Steve gently bites his lip and Tony has to fight to stay

quiet- something he doesn't excel in. Ever. It's a long time then until they have to break apart

and Tony finds himself missing the feel of Captain America's lips.

He lets his head fall back onto his pillow, breathing heavily. He grins up at Steve, whose lips are

even pinker than usual and whose eyes are still sad but now hold something else, something

tangible but unreadable. There are a couple of moments that are only breathing. Then he makes

yet another out-of-character decision, he just wants to try and clear some of the lonely

hopelessness that still caresses Steve's every moment. He moves over a little and lifts up the

edge of his duvet. Steve stares at him for a moment, biting his lip, before sliding into the warm

cocoon of Tony's bed covers.

They lie face to face, their foreheads touching and Steve reaches forwards gingerly to take

Tony's hands. Tony doesn't resist and the look Steve gives him then is worth it, trusting, content.

They lie, quiet so as not to wake Clint, before Tony tilts his jaw forward once more to steal a

final tender kiss from Steve's lips and turns over to sleep. Steve shuffles forward and Tony

finds that he is surprisingly grateful from the warmth and the perfect way their bodies fit together.

He reaches back and pulls one of Steve's arms over his waist and grasps his hand in his.

They lie together and wait for sleep to find them, the faint taste of bubblegum still present on Tony's lips.

When Tony awakes he is alone again, after the tidal wave of disappointment passes, however,

he realizes it's probably for the best because Clint is already awake.

And also he doesn't actually want to be snuggled up in bed with Captain America.

"Morning." Clint smirks as he wonders out of the bathroom in just a towel. "Sleep well down

there?" Tony throws his pillow at him but then regrets it because he just can't seem to get

comfortable with his head against the floor. He eventually gives up and stands, begrudgingly to

make his way to the bathroom. He casts a glance towards Steve's still sleeping form, stretched

out over the blank canvas of the white hotel bed sheets, his face peaceful in sleep as his long

eyelashes cover up the pain. Tony shakes his head, wow since when did he start getting so

sentimental?

Maybe deciding not to argue with Steve Rogers was a bad idea. Kissing Steve Rogers was definitely a bad idea.

"Don't come into the bathroom, I'm showering." He grumbles at Clint, who raises his eyebrow.

"And why would i want to see that?" He mocks, Tony just growls in return.

"Because I'm Tony fucking Stark." He snaps automatically and leaves Clint's laughter behind him as he

makes his way into the bathroom. He decides to brush his teeth first because he's convinced that he

can still taste that bloody bubblegum toothpaste. He looks into the mirror as he methodically cleans each

of his teeth and sighs, they say bad things always come in threes and maybe this was his third bad idea

because as he looked at his reflection he couldn't help but think of Steve, again and also how liking Steve

Rogers was most definitely and completely a bad idea.