Archive of Our Own

The distress call comes in while Pepper is at the helm.

Tony’s in the workshop when this happens, and SOP (inasmuch as they have an SOP) is that Rhodey only calls everyone up once he has enough intel to make brainstorming worthwhile. But this time Tony’s communicator pings as soon as the Pepper gets the call and, since there are only a handful of reasons that she’d do that, Tony drops his wrench and starts running.

He makes it up to the flight deck what seems to be a scant few seconds after Rhodey, who’s in the middle of asking her to plot the jump.

“It’s the Furtherance,” Pepper says over her shoulder. “Red distress.”

“Do we know what’s happening?” Tony says.

“We’re going to find out,” Rhodey says. “T-153A. Not on the scope last I checked. What’ve you got, JARVIS?”

“Mining system,” JARVIS says, while one of the screens pulls up a map and stats. Tony scans it quickly, half-listening as JARVIS reads out the most pertinent details – three gas giants around a yellow star, non-voting member of the Uyb Federation, not a known high-crime area – then pulls the relevant-looking data into his tab to send it to the armor.

“Who made the call?” Tony says.

“The Widow,” JARVIS says.

Rhodey whistles. “Okay. Tony, you’re on warm-up; Pepper, prime in as soon as we’re clear; JARVIS, let the others know to be on standby. It’s not a hot zone on digital, but they’ve been wrong before.”

“Understatement,” Tony scoffs. “Want me to check the guns?”

“No, let’s keep her blue for now.” Rhodey’s frowning at the screens, but he squeezes Tony’s shoulder – an action that’s probably meant to comfort, but it just makes Tony tense up. “Who’s on warm-up?”

Tony rolls his eyes, but takes the hint and starts jogging away from the control panel. “I’m on warm-up.”

By the time Tony gets down to the port hangar, his armor is prepped and waiting by the bay doors, its eyes flickering as it downloads reams of data. Rhodey’s armor is at the starboard bay one level up – risk management and all that – but Tony checks his wrist tab anyway, making sure that it’ll be ready if/when Rhodey needs to head out.

Tony could laugh.

The Furtherance is a formerly-SHIELD ship that features a formerly-SHIELD crew, which by all accounts should mean (and has meant) that the scanty few distress calls transmitted between them before have been from the Iron Advance to the Furtherance, not the other way around. This is not because the Furtherance has the greater firepower – because she doesn’t – but because while Rhodey is a level-headed captain with an eye on the greater hazards, the Furtherance’s captain has a self-sufficient can-do stubbornness that’s approximately two million miles wide.

As far as Tony could tell from the short time that their crews have known each other – mostly by interfering in each other’s business by accident, and then by “accident” – Rogers didn’t even seem to know the Furtherance had a distress beacon.

But these are thoughts that are better indulged in later, once the Furtherance and her crew are secure. The fact that Romanoff sent the call is… well. Tony’s not going to worry about that yet.

Tony steps into the armor, the panels clicking shut around him. The HUD lights up, a segment on the lower left showing the display from the flight deck, while Pepper, Rhodey and JARVIS’s voice echo through the helmet.

“Coming out of jump,” Pepper says, “in three, two, one.”

A new segment lights up, with T-153A and her primary moon, and a small blue dot that is the Furtherance’s beacon.

“Pepper?” Rhodey says.

“I… that’s it. That’s her.”

“What’ve we got?” Tony says.

“An immediate rescue,” Rhodey says. Tony can hear him running through the comms, the rhythmic clang of his boots hitting the metal walkway. “Tony, you getting the read?”

A wire-frame readout of the Furtherance appears on the HUD, spattered with red dots that mark life-signs – one number short. Tony ignores the sudden tightening of his stomach, and warms up his retro rockets for flight. “Yeah, it’s in.”

“Bruce, take the aft bay,” Rhodey says.

“Gotcha,” Bruce says.

“Tony,” Rhodey says. “No hostiles, but we can’t be sure they’re not out there. I’m going in first.”

“Genius,” Tony says. “The captain going in first? I thought you weren’t taking lessons from Rogers.”

“You’re perfectly welcome to stay behind if you need your beauty sleep.”

“Ha!”

In the old days, Tony would’ve taken flight as soon as they were out of the jump, but he doesn’t feel particularly nostalgic for that. He’s been in space too long, and seen Rhodey’s instincts proven right too often. Knowing him, Tony might even do something stupid about that one missing life-sign, and then they’d be in actual trouble.

Though it can’t be worse trouble than what the Furtherance is already in. Within the HUD’s readout, the ship appears shattered in two major sections, as though cleaved right through by a planet-sized knife. Tony’s never been a fan of SHIELD’s grim ship designs, but Rogers and his crew made the Furtherance their own, painted and modified her like the lady she was.

“Tony, to me,” Rhodey says.

The repulsors come to life. Tony takes a running start down the ramp, following the drop through the force field and out the bay doors. The rockets kick in just as he hits the vacuum of space and he’s off, flying into formation behind the small human-sized comet that is Rhodey in his own armor.

Static crackles in Tony’s ear. “—to Advance, do you copy?”

“We copy, Furtherance,” Rhodey says. “We’re coming to get you.”

“Wait, you need to get Steve first,” Natasha says. “There was a fight in the airlock, he fell out with the hostile and lost contact. The flight deck’s gone so we can’t scan for him.”

“Acknowledged,” Rhodey says. “Tony?”

“Yeah.” Tony’s scanners are already hard at work, pinging off Iron Advance and breaking the sky into scannable segments. “Rogers fell out the airlock? What a surprise.”

“Tony—” Rhodey says.

“Got him.” Tony takes off in a blast, the rattle of the armor around him almost loud enough drown out the hammering in his chest.

Fucking Rogers.

Fucking Captain of the fucking Furtherance, the bane of Tony’s existence, whose stupidity looks like courage from a distance. Everyone on the Iron Advance owes Rogers (and the rest of Furtherance, sure, but mainly Rogers) their lives, but somehow it’s Tony and only Tony who doesn’t like the odds that stacks up against them.

Tony’s scanners found Rogers quickly, but it takes too long to get a visual, and longer still for contact. Rogers is in free fall in the shadow of the Furtherance’s remains, his body stiff and his hair oddly illuminated by the glow of the gas giant beside them. The HUD informs Tony that Rogers is wearing a force suit, but the blue-tinged field that should be wrapped around his body is absent.

How long can Steve survive out here with a malfunctioning suit? He has the super-soldier serum, but he’d always been cagey about what abilities that gave him, that vagueness no doubt giving him the advantage to push himself further than anyone knew he could go.

Tony sets his retro rockets to hover in tandem with Steve. He takes the spare suit port out and locks it to Steve’s chest, prompting the force-field to spring into action, wrapping around Steve.

It’s only then that Tony pulls visual on Steve’s face.

Even with the blood-streaked bruises over his temple and neck, the man looks like he could be sleeping. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth partially open, and his hands open as though he’d been in the motion of reaching for something before… well. With the gas giant providing rim light, it’s almost picturesque.

“JARVIS, tell me what to do.” Tony scans the vitals scrolling down the HUD. “Should I shock him?”

“That’s not necessary,” JARVIS says. “He appears to have gone into a form of defensive hibernation, and is now waking up.”

“Space hibernation,” Tony says flatly.

“In a manner of speaking. He’s very cold, though, so it may help to adjust the heat settings.”

Steve gasps. His head snaps back as he gulps great big lungfuls of air, his whole body jerking with the shock of waking up. Tony holds his gauntlets out, steadying Steve by his forearms before he can start spinning in the free fall.

At long last, Steve’s eyes focus. He finds his surroundings – space, space and more space – before settling on Tony’s faceplate.

“Oh hey,” Steve says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Space hibernation?” Tony says. “That a serum thing?”

“Yes, definitely a serum thing.”

“Did you know you could do that?”

Steve looks abashed for all of two seconds. “I was confident that it was likely to be a possibility that I could do that.”

“I should leave you out here.”

“I’m glad Nat called you.” Steve squeezes Tony’s gauntlet, not that he can feel the gesture through the metal alloy layers. “Is everyone okay?”

Tony checks the HUD. He’s quieted the open comms, but JARVIS has a transcript of the conversation scrolling along a panel. “Yeah, Rhodey and Pep are on evac. Give me a sec.” He opens the line. “Hey, Steve’s fine. Bringing him in now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rhodey says.

“Tell Steve that…” Natasha trails off. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”

“Natasha sounds mad,” Tony tells Steve. “What happened?”

“Stumbled upon an R&D lab, turned out to be pretty touchy about gate-crashers. We suspect it’s Kree-funded but couldn’t get a trail. Plenty of experimental tech, though. Your favorite.”

“Oh, goodie.” Tony switches on the electromagnets on his right arm, locking them to the harness of Steve’s back. When Steve nods, Tony starts slowly flying them back to the Iron Advance. “They sliced the ‘ol girl?”

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, disappointed but resolute. “It doesn’t matter. As long as everyone’s all right.”

Tony grits his teeth. Close calls are just the way of the universe, so it’d be useless to point out that Steve wasn’t all right and could’ve just as likely ended up as T-153A’s new satellite. “Did you lose the shield?”

“Yeah. I had it with me when we got blown out the airlock.”

“Whoa, did you throw it out here? With enough force you could’ve sent it into orbit.”

Steve laughs. “That would be quite the sight but thankfully, no. Wouldn’t want a vibranium projectile out here.”

“You’re way too chipper considering how much you loved that thing.”

Tony’s facing forward, ostensibly watching the growing shape of the Iron Advance as they approach, but the HUD helpfully supplies a visual of Steve’s face, and of how Steve turns away from the planet to look over at Tony. Steve’s pale and exhausted, but Tony can’t see any attempt on Steve’s part to hide said exhaustion. Instead there’s just relief, all the post-battle tension drained away as he lets Tony lead him to dock.

“A fair trade off, I think.” Steve has the audacity to grin. “Got to fly with you this time.”

“A drone could serve the same function.”

“But the conversation would be far less interesting.”

“What are you even talking about, you used to think I was a drone.”

“A robot, Tony,” Steve says patiently. “I used to think you were a robot. Completely different.”

“No, it isn’t.” Tony pauses to adjust their trajectory, moving in a wider arc around the remains of the Furtherance. “Drones and robots are on the same evolutionary tree. Are robots so advanced in SHIELD that you can’t tell the difference between one and a human being?”

Steve laughs, hearty and pleased. “Look. If an old-fashioned red-and-gold armor’s going around space stations blasting pirates into orbit—”

“You literally almost died because your force-field suit got damaged in a bog-standard fight, and you’re going to rag on my very reliable, very secure, very air-tight armor?”

“I’m just saying that it’s a reasonable conclusion.”

“You didn’t think Rhodey was a robot,” Tony says sullenly.

“Rhodey’s your captain.”

“So robots can’t be captains now?”

“Robots can’t be Sol Republic captains, no. Unfortunately. But I’m sure that’ll change within our lifetime. Besides,” Steve leans in despite Tony’s earpieces working just fine, “I only have your word you’re not a robot.”

“I can still drop you.”

“I accept the risk.”

“You’re lucky I’m magnanimous.” Tony brings them in line with the bay door, and slows down so that Steve can regain his bearings. “Where do you hurt most? I don’t want to—”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

“You are aware I’ve stopped believing your ‘it’s fine’ ages ago?”

Steve huffs and holds an arm out, reaching for the force field. “Call me an optimist.”

Bruce and Happy are just inside the force field, so Tony decouples the magnets and carefully guides Steve through and into their arms. Steve winces as he adjusts to the ship’s gravity, but he pops a thumbs up as he passes through.

“You coming in?” Bruce says through the comms. “Pepper’s already getting Natasha and Clint.”

“Nah.” Tony kicks up his rockets, blasting away from the doors and back out into the debris. “I’m going to make a sweep, salvage what I can. That cool with you, cap?”

“I’m doing that myself,” Rhodey says. “Stay sharp.”

“Gotcha.” Tony rises to a hovering position, looking over the spread of a dead ship. He sighs, then double-checks that he’s off the comms. “Hey, JARVIS? Grid up the sky again. Let’s see if we can find Rogers’s shield.”

Tony stays out there for almost an hour, flying through metal and foam like a vulture working on a carcass. It’s not a long time, and definitely not long enough to recover most of the Furtherance’s still-functional engine parts, but Rhodey thinks it’d be best to jump out before the hostiles can return with reinforcements.

“I need a minute,” Tony says into the comms. “Happy, you can warm her up.”

“I hear you,” Happy says.

Tony lingers, his whole HUD filled with the raw view of the Furtherance split asunder. He’s not a soldier, but he taps two fingers to his temple, a lazy man’s salute.

It’s hard to say goodbye to a ship. Tony’s had to rebuild the Iron Advance from near-scratch more than once, but as far as he can tell Steve and his crew have held onto the Furtherance since SHIELD collapsed, which is damned impressive track record. Clear evidence of the kind of show that Steve runs.

It’s tricky to find allies in the wilderness beyond Sol, though in the years Tony’s flown with Rhodey, they’ve collated a decent selection of calling cards – Thor and his companions, the Guardians, and even a handful of Nova Corps. Steve, though.

Steve shouldn’t be out here at all. The guy’s a hero of the Ceres wars; he can and has and should command entire fleets. Instead he has a tiny crew of the deathly loyal, and they run missions barely larger than the kind Rhodey does. Tony understands the impulse to be out here making a difference (it’s why he flies, too) but the lawlessness of the outer rim breeds a certain way of thinking and a certain way of life, into which Steve doesn’t quite fit.

Sure, Steve’s as vicious a fighter as any of them, but he’s also glossy and sincere and wields hope like a weapon. The Furtherance seemed barely large enough to contain the goals he’d set for himself and his crew, and although Rhodey (and Pepper, JARVIS, Bruce, Happy) like the guy, Tony doesn’t know what to make of him.

Tony may trust Steve – the half-dozen times they’ve had each other’s backs in a fight made sure of that – but he’s also baffled by his existence. Tony is always on edge whenever they cross paths, and this time it’s going to be even worse, what with the Furtherance’s whole freaking crew loaded onto their ship. Only Steve and Natasha have been on the Iron Advance before, but that was for only like five minutes the time they rescued civilians from the collapsing star bridge, and it’d been in and out, no fuss no muss.

Tony already gets tetchy whenever Rhodey invites other people on board to begin with. (Peter and his friends exempted.)

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself of the bigger picture. The Furtherance is dead. That’s enough a cruelty in itself, so a few days or maybe weeks of bed-and-board is the least they can do. It might even be a nice change of pace.

“Okay,” Tony says. “I’m coming in.”

Tony flies into the Iron Advance, the chain of magnetized scraps trailing after him as he goes. The doors close behind him after he lands, and he takes a moment to make sure everything settles on the floor safely. Steve’s shield, ice-cold but otherwise intact, is placed on top.

The hangar is crowded. Bruce, Pepper and Rhodey are the welcome wagon, helping and chatting with the injured crew. Barnes, Romanoff, Barton and Wilson are in various stages of being tended to and picking at their injuries, but Steve has the worst of it, unsurprisingly. Steve’s sitting on the cot with a blanket over his shoulders, and although his skin is still a little blue, the steaming mug in his hands seems to be helping.

“JARVIS,” Tony says, “run through inventory, let me know what we can do with a double-up.”

“Will do.”

Tony walks up to the bulkhead, aligning the armor to the charging port and locking it in. The armor panels click open and Tony steps out, as always grimacing at the olfactory switch from the armor’s filtered oxygen to the burning after-smell of a space walk. Not his favorite smell in the world, but it marks a completed job.

He looks up.

The others are still doing their thing, still talking, but Tony’s eye is inextricably drawn to the Furtherance’s captain.

Steve, who’s frozen in the motion of bringing the mug up to his mouth, is looking at Tony.

Tony has a quip on his lips: See, not a robot. But it crumbles away, unspoken, because Steve is still staring, the easy smile of earlier gone. Tony looks down at himself – he’s still in his overalls because they’d gotten the call while he was working. Hell, there’s still grease on his hands.

Tony pats his hands together, and is then irritated at himself for being self-conscious. It doesn’t matter, it’s stupid to be nervous over nothing, and as long as Steve doesn’t say something moronic like oh, Tony’s shorter than he expected, or older than he expected, then everything will be copacetic.

“JARVIS,” Tony says. “Pen a reminder for me to clean inside the armor.”

“Hey, Tony!” Rhodey calls out. “Where you going?”

“Gotta clean up.” Tony waves at the pile of recovered material. “You guys better go through your shit, I’m not doing that for you.” And, because Tony’s a masochist, he meets Steve’s eye again. “I got your shield. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, that’s—” Steve jerks upward, but Natasha puts a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down. “Uh.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tony waves over his shoulder as he goes.

Technically, the Iron Advance could be considered Tony’s ship, because he built her, maintains her, and sees to everything she needs. But Tony gave her to Rhodey ages ago, freely and without an ounce of reservation, because it’s only under Rhodey’s command that she can be the best at what she’s made for. Tony is the mechanic and Rhodey is the captain; Tony’s possessiveness doesn’t extend as far as most people think it does.

Even so, Tony cannot confess to being a fan of strangers rattling around her innards, no matter if Rhodey invited them, and no matter if they’re here for perfectly good reasons. Even the few times Thor and the Warriors Three came on board, Tony had stayed out of their way, unnerved by their crowding up the familiar rooms – and Tony even likes them most of the time.

So, despite whatever curiosity Tony may have of the Furtherance’s crew, he stays in his workshop for the next couple of hours, sorting through inventory and sending the results to Rhodey. Pepper and Rhodey are far better at making people feel welcome, so Tony’s better served seeing to the ship’s preparedness in the headcount’s doubling.

He has to come out for dinner, though. And the size of the ship being what it is, he can’t even blame serendipity for his bumping into Steve in the corridor.

“Oh,” Steve says, coming to a standstill. The upper portion of his uniform’s gone, leaving him in a dark long-sleeved undershirt that, miraculously, makes his biceps look even larger. His wounds are wrapped up or stapled, and his face washed. “Hi.”

“Yeah.” Tony squints at him. “Heading to mess?”

“Yes. Actually.” Steve nods rapidly. “Over here?”

“Got it in one.” Tony pauses, discomfited in a completely different way from earlier, though for no obvious reason he can immediately pinpoint.

But that pondering is derailed when he sees the way that Steve’s gaze shifts: from Tony’s eyeline to a couple of inches higher where the armor’s eyeline is, before coming back down. Steve’s mouth quirks, and though that’s always a ridiculously handsome look on him, this time it has Tony bristling.

“Excuse me,” Tony says, pushing past him.

“Right, yes—”

Tony doesn’t stomp. If he’s disappointed, then that’s his own fault. So what if he’s wondered what it would be like to have Steve right in front of him, reachable and visible without the HUD and armor between them. Steve is a young, virile soldier with a young, virile crew – all of whom are in the ship’s mess being young and virile and giving Tony a headache. God, look at them, being fit and muscular all over the place.

“Hey, saved some for you,” Happy says as Tony approaches. He pulls the lid of the steamer, proud as the dickens. “Might as well make an occasion of it, yeah?”

“Sure.” Tony picks through the stew, hefting two large spoonfuls into his bowl.

They’ve moved the tables and chairs around to accommodate their larger numbers. Where usually the four smaller tables are bunched together while they sit around it, they’ve split the tables up haphazardly, with chairs set at various angles. It suits Tony’s purpose just fine, and he settles at the outermost edge of the gathering, Bruce to his right. Rhodey’s at the table across with Natasha and Pepper, who are soon joined by Steve.

“Rhodey wants to follow the trail before it gets cold,” Bruce tells Tony.

“Makes sense.” Tony half-listens as Rhodey and Steve hash it out, filling in the gaps of what Tony doesn’t know of this encounter that went wrong. An R&D lab shouldn’t have the kind of security and firepower they’d encountered, so whoever’s behind it have a great deal to lose.

“How much data did we get?” Rhodey says.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Pepper says, scrolling through her tab. “But there’s a pretty clear scan of the last jump pattern. Could use that to figure out what engine they were using.”

“What about sky parceling records,” Steve says. “Even if it was off the books, there’s got to be something worth poking at. Who had rights to put a lab up here?”

“Let’s just say that Uyb’s parceling procedures are a mess,” Rhodey says. “I’d say it’s more likely they’d been squatting.”

“So it’ll depend on what we’ve taken from the lab,” Steve says.

Tony zones out a little, preoccupied with eating Happy’s actually decent attempt at a celebratory stew with the pickings from DC-284. His eye wanders across the mess, taking in Barton’s wolfing down stew-dipped hardtack, Pepper’s efficient tapping away, and Barnes and Wilson’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as they listen to the main convo and mutter under their breaths.

“Yo, Tony,” Rhodey says.

Tony jerks up. “What?”

“You up for an engine fingerprint?” Rhodey says.

“Only if you ask really nicely,” Tony says.

Rhodey looks over at Steve.

“Uh.” Steve blinks rapidly. “I’m asking. Nicely?”

“That’s your idea of asking nicely?” Tony scoffs. “Put your back into it, why don’t you.”

“There’s…” Steve’s eyes dart around wildly. “It would be…”

“Whatever.” Tony waves it off, trying for flippant even as his stomach sinks with a growing realization. “Just send the data to me, I’ll look it over.”

Natasha, though, leans over to smile at Tony. “That’d be awesome of you.”

“I know it would,” Tony says, more on automatic than anything else.

“Now.” Rhodey claps. “To the bunking arrangement. Our ship may not be as fancy, but there’s enough space for all of us. Steve, you have the spare room.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, just as there’s a strange motion underneath the table that seems to be Natasha’s kicking him and him kicking back.

“Natasha’s with Pepper,” Rhodey says. “And the rest y’all can toss for it.”

“Is there space in Happy’s room for another person?” Pepper says.

“I can shove a cabinet up top or something,” Happy says.

“There’s the brig.” Bruce shrugs when the Furtherance crew stare at him. “It’s pretty comfy, actually.”

“It is,” Pepper agrees.

“Why do you even have a brig?” Sam says.

Tony stands up as the banter builds momentum. He moves to the side counter, where he rinses his bowl and sets it on the rack. After gesturing at Bruce, who nods, Tony slips back and out of the mess.

The voices rise, albeit in good-natured ribbing, though they’re muted out in the corridor. Tony taps at his wrist tab, pulling out the databases he’ll need if he’s going to do an engine fingerprint. He’s brought up short by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and looks up.

Steve’s poked his head around the corner. “Hey.”

Tony nods, and watches curiously as Steve approaches. He felt that there was something off earlier, and here’s the chance to test it.

“I, uh…” Steve says. “Where are you going?”

“Thor used the spare room last, left some of his junk there,” Tony says. “Gotta clear it out if you’re gonna use it.”

“Oh.” Steve nods. “Right.”

Tony waits.

See, this would normally be the part where Steve would offer an anecdote, maybe about Thor, and Tony would respond sarcastically and Steve would return a charming yet infuriating statement that would leave Tony twitchy for ages. Tony may not understand Steve, but in this Steve has always been predictable. Steve’s just so aggressively himself, which often means being upbeat (even in the face of impending disaster) and pulling words from Tony with an ease that made Tony forget that he’s pretty much a full-time crotchety bastard these days.

But now there’s dead air.

Now Steve’s uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant, when the only thing that’s changed is that Steve’s on-ship and Tony’s off-armor.

“Shield!” Steve blurts out.

Tony scowls. “What?”

“Thank you,” Steve says. “For the shield. It’s… thank you.”

“Didn’t do it for thanks, but okay.” Tony waits, but there’s nothing. It’s the easiest fucking bait in the world, but they might as well be strangers now, apparently. “I’m going now.” He turns and does just that.

Sorry to disappoint you, he doesn’t say.

A few hours later, Tony finds out who he’s bunking with. He’s in his quarters, trying to decide exactly how much bad karma he can afford to absorb today by being a bitch of a roommate, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah!” Tony calls out.

The door opens, and there’s Bucky Barnes, he of the sad ponytail and metal arm. When Tony gestures for him to come in, he does, looking blessedly uninterested in his surroundings.

“Your bed.” Tony points at the fold-out he’d put up by the bulkhead. “Bathroom’s there. Don’t touch my shit without asking. Any questions, let me know.”

Bucky nods and sits down on the fold-out. He’s holding a small pile that he spreads out next to him neatly – clothes, a few toiletries, a tab. Tony watches him for a suspicious minute, but Bucky just sits with his legs folded under him and reads.

Excellent.

Tony goes through what passes for his nightly routine, i.e. cleaning up, dressing down and going through his To Do list for tomorrow. When he gets to the point that he’s pulling his blanket back, Bucky tucks himself closer to the bulkhead and turns the light on his tab on.

“Thanks,” Tony says. Bucky inclines his head but doesn’t look up, so Tony turns the room light off.

He could sleep. There’s plenty to do tomorrow, not even counting the tracing algorithm he’d asked JARVIS to crunch through the sleep cycle. Tony doesn’t even know Bucky that well; of Steve’s entire crew, he’s the one that Tony only really knows by reputation, be it through Rhodey and Pepper, or via Tony’s reading on SHIELD. (So sue him, he’d wanted to know more about the Furtherance’s crew.)

Tony sighs and switches the light back on. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“What?” Bucky says.

“Your arm, I can hear grinding. Want me to take a look at it?”

“You can hear that?” Bucky says, surprised.

“It’s my job to know when things aren’t working properly.” Tony rises up to his knees and yanks the maintenance arm from its frame in the bulkhead, pulling it down to eye level.

Bucky puts his tab down. “Why do you have that in your quarters?”

“Quick maintenance.” Tony gestures at his chest, where the faint glow of the arc reactor is visible through his dark tank top.

“Oh.” Bucky sits up, eyes alight. “I thought it was cosmetic.”

“Yeah, well. I can’t reach over there. So.” Tony scoots over a little, making room for Bucky to sit on his bed. Bucky complies with calm curiosity, watching as Tony puts on his light goggles and starts tinkering with the arm.

It’s an advanced piece of tech, but not so advanced that Tony can’t see how it’s supposed to work and where the strain of recent battle has put pieces out of alignment. Tony works quietly and efficiently, which in theory is supposed to keep him focused on the immediate instead of letting his mind wander.

This is Steve’s best friend from childhood, who fought alongside him in the Ceres Wars, then lost and gained an arm under mysteriously redacted circumstances. Tony’s seen him fight a few times, but always from a distance. He seems to be quieter than the others of Steve’s crew, though maybe that’s just because he’s an actually decent human being who respects other people’s personal space. Or maybe he plans to rummage around Tony’s room once he’s asleep, who knows.

“That should be it,” Tony says when he’s done.

Bucky gets up and experimentally rotates his arm. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Tony puts the maintenance arm back, and nods with satisfaction Bucky tests his fingers. “I could do better in the workshop.”

“No, this is good. Do you need help with yours?”

“What?”

“Your…” Bucky gestures to the arc reactor.

“No,” Tony says quickly. “No, that’s not—no.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s…” Tony rubs a hand on his chest, just below the arc reactor.

Bucky politely averts his gaze from the movement, and Tony’s brain fritzes a little trying to imagine how this guy (quieter, cautious) and Steve (star bright) fit together. But they do, obviously, fit together; it’s just that Tony’s imagination is currently failing him on the how. Though that’s to be expected as well, because it’s not like Tony actually knows Steve that well to begin with. Brief, shared experiences out in space don’t translate much to actual camaraderie, as Tony needed to be reminded of today.

“Bummer to lose your ship,” Tony says.

“It happens,” Bucky says. “At least we’re all okay.”

“Same thing Steve said.” Tony scowls, annoyed at himself bringing Steve up.

“What do you think of him?” Bucky says.

Tony looks at Bucky sharply. “Who? Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Considering that he’s your captain, and you’re in my personal quarters with every opportunity to strangle me in my sleep, I’m going to decline to answer.”

To Tony’s surprise, Bucky smiles. “Fair enough,” he says. “He can be a dumbass, though.”

“I picked that up pretty quickly.” Tony slides back under his blankets. “A stubborn, self-righteous dumbass.”

“Exactly.” Bucky clears his throat. “But a decent guy, too.”

“Sure.” Tony shrugs. “You have to say that, though. He’s your best friend.”

“That just means I know what I’m talking about.” Bucky’s face flickers for a second. It could mean anything, really, but Tony can only ping it as discomfort, or maybe awkwardness. Which is weird, because any awkwardness to be had would’ve kicked in earlier.

“A good friend, and a good captain,” Bucky says, as though he’d chosen the words carefully. “An all rounder.”

“All right,” Tony says slowly. “You gonna keep reading or what? I need some shut eye.”

“Please, go ahead.” Bucky picks his tab again, and gestures at Tony to continue. “Good night, Tony.”

Tony never gets to see Bucky sleep, because by the time he wakes the next morning, the guy’s already up, dressed, and doing push-ups on the floor. Tony sits up and watches him through crust-thickened eyelids for a minute or so, oddly grateful that he’s too groggy to feel ancient and rickety at the moment.

Bucky pauses mid-push-up when he sees Tony’s awake. “Morning.”

Tony grunts and slides off the bed to the bathroom, where he cleans his teeth and face, and trims a few wayward hairs around his mouth.

When he comes back out, Bucky’s done with his morning warm-up and rolled over into a low crouch. “You’re going for breakfast?” he asks.

“Mm. Yeah.” Tony straps his tab into place on his wrist.

“Just like that? I mean…”

When Tony squints at him, Bucky makes a vague gesture at his appearance – tank and sweatpants, which are a far cry from the smart lines of Bucky’s repurposed regulation wear. Tony rolls his eyes; his guns are nowhere near the same league as Bucky’s, but he refuses to feel self-conscious about dress codes.

“This isn’t a military operation, Barnes,” Tony says. “If I want to have breakfast in my jammies, I’m going to have breakfast in my jammies.”

“Of course. Naturally.” Bucky stands up, his expression mild but with a startling glint in his eye. “May I join you?”

“Do whatever you want.”

Tony heads out, still partly asleep and navigating the ship by memory all the way across to the mess. He’s roughly aware of Barnes shadowing him, but pays it little mind. His goal is the coffee machine – built by him, watched over closely by JARVIS – which is fully prepped and welcoming by the time he gets there.

There are other people in the mess, though the noise is more subdued compared to last night. Tony stays by the counter, sipping his coffee while the clatter and chatter of morning washes over him.

Into this calmness breaks a sudden loud bang and “Fuck!” that has Tony jolting and almost dropping his cup.

Any loud noises on a ship is cause for alarm, but when Tony looks over there’s just Steve, who’s at the far side of the mess and hopping on one foot. His face is contorted with disgruntlement, and it eventually trickles into Tony’s head that Steve must’ve run into a table.

“Nice to know you need coffee to be functional, too,” Tony says.

“Um.” Steve clears his throat, looking elsewhere. Probably at his crewmates, two of whom are sitting at a table and shaking with quiet laughter.

Tony makes the executive decision to not start the day on the wrong, irritable foot. Rogers and his crew are here; that’s just the way it is. Tony turns away, grabs a cereal box at random, and drags himself over to Pepper’s table to take a seat.

“Morning,” Pepper says.

“Yeah.” Tony hunkers down to eat, and does his best not to notice that Steve’s in a short-sleeved tee that’s two sizes too small for him. Probably one of Rhodey’s shirts. The captains probably spent last night bonding over captain things and war stories and mission plans to take down illicit research stations. No way they’d have trouble keeping a decent conversation going.

The chair next to Tony is pulled back, but it’s only Bucky, who sits down with his own breakfast bowl. “Do whatever, right?” Bucky says.

“That’s what I said,” Tony concedes.

“You should give us things to do,” Bucky says. “We need to earn our keep.”

“Don’t be silly,” Pepper says. “You’re our guests.”

“Not used to being the rescued,” Bucky says.

From his place next to Steve one table over, Sam says, “Speak for yourself, man. It’s nice to be the rescued for a change.”

“It’s only polite,” Bucky insists.

“I got cleaning that needs doing,” Tony says.

Pepper sighs. “Tony.”

“They appreciate it!” Tony says.

“No, Barnes appreciates it,” Sam says.

Tony makes a face. “You call him ‘Barnes’?”

Sam shrugs. “That’s his name.”

“So ‘Bucky’ is a no go?” Tony asks.

“Sam likes to pretend we’re not friends,” Bucky says. “But you can call me Bucky if you like. Seeing as how I’ve watched you sleep and all.”

“No,” Tony says flatly. “We’re not there yet.”

“Sorry,” Bucky says good-naturedly.

“Okay. So.” Tony scrolls through his tab, pulling a few lower-priority items from his To Do list. “There’s some scrubbing that needs done in the upper bay, if you’re interested.”

“We are,” Bucky says.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Sam says.

There’s a little more discussion after that, mostly on light matters but also touching the trace that Tony’s doing to supplement Pepper and Natasha’s records digging. Though the people involved are different, this is at least familiar; the chase of a mission is often a long haul, with brief bursts of activity in between.

Once Tony’s done eating, he fetches two helpings of coffee: one for himself and the other for Rhodey, who’s sure to appreciate it on the flight deck.

But on the way out, Tony finds himself pausing by Steve’s table, attention snagged by the sudden realization that his face is… pinched. Almost miserable. Steve’s been quiet and working on his tab for most of breakfast, and Tony had assumed that he’s busy thinking about the Furtherance’s attackers. Or maybe he’s (understandably) still being sad over losing his ship.

“You feeling okay?” Tony asks. “Want me to get someone?”

Steve starts. “Oh! No. No, it’s fine. Thank you.” He looks down at his bowl, conversation over.

Tony doesn’t sigh, but it’s a very close thing. “All right.”

Along Iron Advance’s starboard, two decks below living quarters and thus deep enough that the working noise won’t bother anyone who could be sleeping, are the labs. Bruce has one, Tony has one, and there’s a slightly smaller general purpose one that’s currently filled with half-finished masterpieces courtesy of Peter, Ned and MJ, from the last time they’d been on board.

Pepper and Happy like to joke that Tony’s workshop is a sacred space, and the true belly of the ship. That’s based on a slightly-inaccurate story that goes: when Tony first designed the original Iron Advance, he’d started with the workshop, and built everything else around it. Tony obviously knows better than to design any vehicle that way, plus the labs have been rebuilt almost a dozen times, sometimes not even with the ‘excuse’ of battle damage to kick off another facelift. The workshop’s emotional continuity comes from what Tony does here, but he could do that anywhere, be it on any other ship, or any other planet.

That said, there are times when Tony kinda believes in the idea of the place’s sacredness. (Myths can be good for the soul.) It’s a place of creation and familiarity and comfort.

The last which can be shattered by change, or in this case the arrival of the foreign.

It’s been a quiet day, in which Tony’s been working on breathing pods and the engine trace and other sundries, but he raises his head when he hears a knock at the door.

Tony does not drop the iron solder he’s holding, but it’s close.

He knows, obviously, that Steve is on the ship, and might explore it, and might come down here, but for a few seconds Tony is dizzy from the strangeness of Steve actually being here. In the place that’s seen Tony during some of his worst and most brilliant brainstorming.

Steve Rogers of the dearly-departed Furtherance, a man that Tony’s only ever shared high-stress situations with, is walking into Tony’s workshop as if it’s nothing, as if this is a thing that’s always been possible.

“Hi,” Steve says.

Tony nudges his goggles up to his forehead. “Did you need something?”

“No. It’s.” Steve hovers there, standing between the benches and hands twitching awkwardly by his sides.

This is just the way it is now, apparently. Tony thinks he’s pretty close to actually accepting that, and on that vein reminds himself that Steve doesn’t owe him anything, and that they don’t actually know each other, and that whatever secret daydream Tony may have harbored about what this actual moment would be like is on him and no one else.

Tony gestures at a stool, which Steve takes with visible gratitude.

“You mentioned you had a workshop,” Steve says. “So I thought it would be nice to… see it. Pepper said it was fine?”

“I mentioned the workshop?”

“Yeah, at the… Remember when we took down the gate on Desda? You weren’t impressed with their security bots and said you could make better ones from your scraps. And I said something like, what the hell kind of scraps do you keep lying around your ship? And you said that people would pay through the nose to get a glimpse of your workshop.” Steve smiles sheepishly. “Not that I can pay through the nose at the moment.”

Tony definitely remembers Desda, and the gate, and maybe the security bots? It does sound like something he’d say, anyway, seeing as one his favorite hobbies is to complain about other people’s tech. A clearer memory is of Steve’s flying leap into the gate tower, and how he’d ignored the seismic tremors to corral the civilians they hadn’t even realized had been in the station.

“I’m going to have to take your word for it.” Tony carefully puts his soldering iron down and takes a quick look around. Instead of there being anything shiny to show off, there’s just mess and junk – and isn’t that just the story of his life? “Don’t have much for a show-and-tell right now, sorry to say.”

“I’m not an expert but even I can tell some of what you’ve got lying around would turn Hammer green.”

“Why’d you have say that name? Now everything I make in the next couple of weeks is going to be crap.”

“One man’s crap is another man’s revolutionary miracle.”

“You should write taglines.”

“That has been suggested to me before, actually.”

“Part of captain’s skill set?”

“Not a captain right now.” Steve says this calmly, without any hint of bitterness. Tony’s seen this calm acceptance in battle, too, which had unsettled Tony at first. Well, it still unsettles him, but at least now he knows it’s just part of how Steve rolls with the punches, always facing forward to the next fight and the next mission, without letting regret cling too strongly.

“You’ll always be a captain,” Tony says. “Just need to get another ship.”

Steve shrugs. “Could always steal another one.”

“You didn’t steal the Furtherance.”

“Technically, I did.”

“SHIELD owed you severance pay.”

“SHIELD didn’t exist anymore.”

“All the reason to take its assets,” Tony says. “It’s not like they were going to use ‘em.”

“I think Earth Gov would disagree.” Steve’s relaxing, slowly but surely. A smile, a real one, settles on his face, and Tony’s chest tightens for no reason whatsoever. Steve adds, “Would’ve accomplished a hell of a lot more if I’d had you on my crew.”

“No, thanks,” Tony says. “Me, a soldier? Right.”

“I have enough soldiers. Would be nifty to have an engineer. An ideas person.”

“Only so you’d no longer have to trade for tech,” Tony says with a huff. “Make ‘em all in-house.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“You want me to make you a ship, too?”

Steve’s face shifts, his expression going fond and exasperated. “It’s not about what you can make, Tony.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“It’s about, you know… Space? Exploration?”

“You got time to explore in your busy schedule?”

“I make time,” Steve says. “That’s what we do in between missions. I mean, I signed up to fight in the first place, but I could just as well fight within Sol, instead of out here.”

“There you go. I hate space.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“I hate space.” Tony knew it was a mistake even before he said it, but compulsion is as compulsion does.

Maybe it’s because Steve’s putting this effort into being nice. It’s bad enough that’s Steve up close, his bruises all gone, leaving him naught but pristine and fresh and free from even basic fucking crow’s feet, and it just makes Tony feel tired. More tired. Since Steve’s seen Tony without the armor, and he’s seen the mess that is the workshop, he might as well know this other thing, too.

“Space terrifies me,” Tony says. “That’s why you’d only ever seen me in the armor. I never leave the ship without it.”

“But that’s…” Steve reels. “That’s incredible.”

“What?”

“You’re afraid of space but you fly anyway? That takes guts.”

“No,” Tony says quickly, “you don’t get it. It’s why everything on the Advance has to be made by me. I’m a control freak, I don’t trust anything that hasn’t gone through my hands—”

“You have high standards for safety.”

“—and that makes me a liability—”

“I’m pretty sure no one in your crew things you’re a liability,” Steve says. “Least of all Rhodey.”

Tony stares. Steve meets his gaze easily, exuding sincerity and keenness that should, in theory, be comforting. Tony almost even gives in to it, because wouldn’t it be wonderful to take what Steve’s saying at face value? Tony agrees that Rhodey doesn’t think of him as a liability, but that’s not the point he was trying to make.

The point is that Tony’s reasons for being out here aren’t Steve’s. What they get out of it is different, and their definition of success is different. It’s a misalignment, and another point among the reasons that friendship was probably too much to hope for, let alone ship-sharing, but Steve isn’t acting like any of this is a big deal.

In fact, he seems genuinely interested.

“Clint’s not a fan of spacewalking, either,” Steve says.

“He got thrown out of an airlock, too?” Tony grimaces, twisting away when Steve starts in surprise. “Sorry, that’s… Lots of people aren’t fans of space, you don’t need a reason.”

“When did that happen to you?” Steve asks.

“Long time ago, before…” Tony waves at the ship around them. “Was on a space station. My space station, actually. Someone I trusted threw me out the airlock. Not fun.”

“That was before you got the arc reactor?”

“Yeah.” Tony feels cold. As though he’s out there again, Obadiah’s face looking out the airlock port as the locks slammed shut. “Can’t lose a power source when it’s part of you, right?”

“Right.” Steve nods, contemplative. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“No big. We all got something. You were in a war for crying out loud.”

“Geez,” Steve says, as though he hadn’t heard Tony, “and I made you – you had to see me like that, frozen in free fall. I mean, I’m glad it was you who found me, but that must’ve rustled up some bad memories.”

Yes.

“Meh,” Tony says with a shrug. “It turned out okay.”

“Even so.” Steve’s dismay is heartfelt and lovely, and it nudges at that base desire everyone has (even Tony) to be acknowledged. Tony finds himself marveling at it, curious that Steve would find any of this interesting at all.

Realization hits: Steve may be honestly, seriously thinking of having Tony on his crew. With the Furtherance gone, it’s expected that Steve would have to think long-term. He could steal a ship, but why bother to steal when there’s one right here, with a crew he already knows he can work with, and backed by a science support team he’d just taken pains to highlight?

Hell, last night Bucky asked Tony for his opinion on Steve. As a crewmate, as a captain?

“Good thing Natasha called when she did,” Tony says carefully.

“The Iron Advance was first on our distress call list,” Steve says. “We knew we could count on you.”

“Right.” Tony’s going to have to think this one through. “I mean. That’s awesome? Rhodey must’ve been touched.”

“He’s pretty smug about it, yeah,” Steve admits. “Perfectly within rights, in my opinion.”

It’s Rhodey’s call, Tony tells himself. Rhodey’s far more protective of the Iron Advance than Tony is, and any choice he makes will be the right one. That said, this wouldn’t be like taking Thor on for a few weeks, or ferrying Peter and his friends across the galaxy. This would be a merging, and that’s only if he assumes the best-case scenario.

On the one hand, some missions do need more hands on deck, and goodness knows more than once they’d had to drop something they could have done if only they’d had greater close-range firepower. A larger crew would also allow for easier rotation; Tony’s content to be a permanent fixture on the Iron Advance, but the others need their planet leave.

But on the smaller front, it would mean having Steve constantly nearby and within reach, and on a time scale Tony that had not at all considered. Would it make things better or worse? Would they find a new rhythm? Well, they’d have to, because that’s just how crews work, and there’s no way that Tony’s ever leaving this ship.

Tony looks at Steve. He tries to imagine inhabiting the same living/working space as him day after day. By the logic of exposure therapy, there’ll come a day when Steve’s presence will just be background noise, unremarkable and humdrum. Customary. There’d be no more annoying little jolts in Tony’s stomach, and that would be a good thing because then he’d be able to concentrate better on things that need to be concentrated on.

But getting there will take time.

Time in which not only will Tony have to see more of Steve, but vice versa. In which there’ll be plenty more opportunities for Tony to disappoint the man.

“I need to—” Tony gets up, flustered and trying to mask it by shoving a thumb into his goggles to push them off. Except the motion has the strap tangling tight in his hair and he hisses, though more from irritation than pain.

There’s a scrape on the floor when Steve rises from the stool.

Tony freezes. Steve has come close, and warm hands are on Tony’s, stilling him and detangling the mess above Tony’s left ear.

“I need better conditioner,” Tony mutters.

“No, not really.”

Tony can feel Steve’s fingers at the back of his head – two of them, maybe, hooking the edge of the straps and trailing upward along Tony’s skull to tug the whole thing free. That line of touch tingles, mirrored by a flickering shiver up his spine that he just barely stops himself from curling his body to follow.

That leaves Steve right there, barely a few inches away, with body heat rising off of him. Tony’s eyeline is at Steve’s jaw, but at his mouth, really – which is an objectively decent mouth, not exactly full lips, but full enough. When Tony’s eyes flicker up, it’s to meet the steady blue of Steve’s. Blue like gems of Ceres, like the oceans of Earth, like an atmospheric sky.

Bad idea, Tony thinks. Well, there’s no actual ideas in his head at the moment, but if he had any, he’s pretty sure they’d be bad.

“Thanks,” Tony says.

“No problem,” Steve replies.

The air feels thick as syrup. Tony should back up, or at least break eye contact, because Steve doesn’t seem inclined to. An impromptu staring competition where the prize is one of the bad ideas Tony’s not thinking of.

This is it, isn’t it? This is why everything about Steve is a problem, and Steve always getting into trouble is a problem, and why Tony never really wanted the guy to come on board the Iron Advance. Steve’s just a fantasy, best enjoyed from a distance, and only when Tony is Iron Man, i.e. efficient, battle-ready.

“Can’t even take my safetywear off without a ruckus,” Tony says carelessly. “Everything’s got to be a production.”

“That’s all right, safetywear can be complicated,” Steve says. “I wouldn’t know, of course, seeing as how my idea of safetywear is just… the shield.”

Tony laughs.

It’s not even that funny, so maybe he laughs because it’s something to do. Plus it gives him an excuse to scoot away a little, out of the range of the furnace that is Steve Rogers.

When Tony finally looks up, Steve’s face is – strange. Again. His eyes are wide and his hands are sort of clutched to his chest, as if he’s having the mildest heart attack, or is perhaps offended by someone’s fashion sense. Probably not the second one.

Tony feels his smile fade a little. “I know. Not that funny.”

“It’s not that. It’s – your face—” Steve raises a hand, almost as if to touch, but he thankfully drops it back to his side. “There’s so much going on. I mean, I’m so used to talking to a helmet.”

Tony’s stomach drops. “You’d prefer I put it on? I can do that.”

“No, that’s not – it’s fine—”

“Oh, my face is fine? Thanks, I definitely needed your approval.”

“Tony, no.” Steve shakes his head, gathering himself. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Me, uncomfortable? You’re the one who’s been uncomfortable.”

“I’m – it’s not – I like you, Tony.”

Tony frowns. “Okay?”

“I do, I like you,” Steve says, while being the very image of six foot plus male fumbling tragically, “but it’s not like – I don’t want you to think that – because I already liked you before.”

“U-huh. You liked me for what, before what?”

“I just…” There’s a whole different kind of dismay radiating off of Steve now. His shoulders seem to droop, though that may just be a trick of the light. “I liked you as a friend. Before we came aboard the ship.”

“Oh.” It’s back to how compatible they’d be if they merged crews, then. “Okay, yeah.” And because Tony can acknowledge Steve’s effort, he adds, “You’re not so bad yourself. I mean, you’ve done a lot for Earth, and all that.”

Steve huffs, almost self-consciously. “First time we met, you called me a Sol poster boy.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t respect those skills,” Tony says. “But also, you deserved it.”

“I deserved it?”

“If you’re gonna crash someone’s heist with a big speech about lying on the wire – yes, Steve, you deserved it.”

And now Steve’s doing the other thing again, eyes all soft and making Tony’s skin itch. All these ups and downs does not bode well for the possibility of them being full-time crewmates, not that Tony’s even sure that that’s going to happen in the first place. Pepper has so many times asked Tony if he enjoys leaping to the most headache-inducing conclusion possible.

But it pays to be prepared. If it doesn’t happen, then things will just go back to normal the next time they dock. What a relief that would be, whereby Steve will be gone instead of breathing the same air and walking the same halls and eating in the same mess. But if it does happen, then Tony must have the fortitude to manage it.

Tony takes a calming breath. “So. You want me to make you something? Since you’re here.”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“It’s a thing I do, don’t get twisted up about it. Boots for Happy, glasses for Bruce, a toothbrush with a very specific curved handle for Pep. Things like that.”

“And you enjoy that, right?” Steve says, watching him closely.

“Yeah.”

“Then yes,” Steve says. “I’d be honored and grateful. Have you seen my gauntlets? They’re practically held together by staples and tape these days.”

Tony makes a face. “Yes, I have noticed. Say no more. You will have new ones.”

“Can I watch you make them?”

Well, fuck.

“Sure,” Tony says, because he is stupid. “Why not.”

It just figures that all of Tony’s fellow Iron Advance cohorts seem far more at ease than he is with their ship’s increased number. Pepper has always liked Natasha and wanted to get to know her better; Happy always enjoys having new people to talk to in general; Rhodey gets along with everyone but is extra lit up this time by the shared military angle bonding.

Bruce comes closest to Tony’s level of caution, but then he goes and shocks by telling Tony how Sam has a collection of obscure gravitational warping incidents and isn’t that amazing and apparently they’re buds now.

“But what’s their plan?” Tony asks him. “Are they going to get a new ship? Are we gonna help them get a new ship? What’s the thinking?”

Bruce just seems confused. “You’re in a rush to get rid of them?”

“No, it’s just that… this is our ship. If there’s going to be a change, we have to know.”

“But it’s been, like, two days. They’re still taking stock of what they’ve lost, let alone thinking of… Didn’t Gamora and the Guardians stay a few weeks that time?”

“At what cost! I still have splinters and fur all around my workshop.”

Bruce sighs, offers a far-too-kind smile, and squeezes Tony’s shoulder. “Maybe you should spend some time ruminating on why you’re so bothered.”

Tony scowls at him. “Whose side are you on?”

“I did not realize there were sides involved,” Bruce says. “You know what? You should just talk to the captain.”

That’s a good idea.

Tony leaves Bruce to his machinations and combs the ship, eventually finding Rhodey on the observation deck up top. Unfortunately, Steve is also there. Fortunately, the two of them are in such deep conversation that neither has noticed Tony’s presence, where he’s hovering just around the corner of the stairwell.

Loathe to interrupt, Tony stays where he is. He watches them: his best friend in the whole wide universe, and the other guy.

Judging from their body language, it doesn’t seem to be an overly serious conversation. They’re standing by the observation windows, friendly and at ease. Rhodey’s doing the hand gesture that usually accompanies one of his war stories, and Steve’s body is angled towards his in interest. Their voices are a low murmur, the words just out of reach.

It’s nice to have confirmation that Steve only gets fidgety around Tony. But that’s not Steve’s fault, really. Tony’s been meaning to do something about his habit of being an asshole, but it’s kinda far down his list.

It’s an asshole move to want to kick out the homeless, too, right? Yeah.

Tony retreats around the corner, sighs, and starts the trek back down.

He should be more reasonable about this. Any status quo doesn’t last for very long in space, and Tony’s known that from the moment he’d left Earth, freely trading the security of the family name for the dark unknown. That should prove that whatever Tony’s concerns may be right now, he is capable of adaptation. Compared to that first painful experience, the potential doubling of the Advance’s crew is a tiny change.

On the other hand, the Iron Advance has never been and is deliberately not a military-influenced operation, despite Rhodey’s standing at the helm. Steve and his people would tip the balance. Not to mention that having two captains is always a recipe for disaster.

Yes, these are all logical counterpoints.

But underneath that is Tony’s fear that his anxiousness has nothing to do with logic.

Steve sat with him the workshop yesterday, and again this morning. Tony told him that he can’t talk much while working – he needs to concentrate, etc. – and Steve said okay, and actually sat a corner doing goodness knows what on his tab, perfectly quietly aside from answering the occasional question Tony threw his way. He’d stayed until he was needed somewhere else.

It made no sense. It accomplished nothing.

But! It’s a means to gain something.

Tony has as poor a handle on Steve now as he did before the guy came on board, but if there’s one thing Tony’s gaining clarity on, is that Steve wants something from him. Expectation wafts off of him, low-key but continuous, though it’s not the demanding expectation that Tony knows well from his Earth years. This expectation is quiet, patient, unclear.

It’s not the new gauntlet that Steve’s after. That’s just an excuse.

Maybe it’s because Steve’s won over the rest of the Iron Advance crew, leaving Tony the last holdout.

It’s a thought, and Tony doesn’t like it.

Night cycle number three with Bucky as his roommate, Tony discovers that the guy loves watching Martian soap operas. By the time Tony’s crawling into bed, Bucky has set up a binge nest around himself: propped up on pillows, with another pillow on his lap for his tab, and bright orange earbuds that Tony’s pretty sure came from Pepper.

“That from the drive?” Tony asks.

“No, JARVIS downloaded these,” Bucky says. “We had horrible Sol connection on the Furtherance. Never found out what happened to Beth and her evil triplet sister. Did you know she had a triplet sister? Sorry, spoilers.”

Tony huffs under his breath. “Glad to see you’re maximizing use of our amenities.”

“JARVIS makes excellent recommendations, too.” Bucky tilts his head a little, presumably because JARVIS is saying something into his earbud. After a second, Bucky taps at something at the tab, and looks pleased at the result. “Yeah, that’s good. Thanks.”

Tony falls asleep to tinny noises coming from Bucky’s earbuds.

He wakes up to a ship-wide alarm, and the lights on amber alert.

Tony kicks his blanket off and rolls over to grab at his earpiece. Rhodey’s voice comes through: “—we got?”

“Pirates, looks like,” Bruce says. “Uh… J-Series? A Killian make.”

“What are you talking about.” Tony’s already up and out of his room. “Killian has never and will never have any connection whatsoever with pirates.” He looks over his shoulder at Bucky, who’s followed him, and says, “Go up to the flight deck.” Bucky nods and runs.

“I’m hailing,” Bruce says. “Oh, okay, that’s rude.”

“I’m going down,” Tony say. “Let me know what you need.”

“It’s supposed to be quiet out here,” Rhodey says. “If they were following us from the last slingshot, I want to know. Pep, can you get to the turrets?”

“On my way,” Pepper says.

The armor’s warmed up and ready by the time Tony gets down to the bay. Once inside, the HUD shows Tony the size, make and readiness of the ship outside. It won’t necessarily be a cakewalk – Tony knows better than to measure a ship by the first read – but definitely not as immediately alarming as some other surprises they’ve bumped into.

A new voice comes on comms:

“Hey, so,” Steve says. His voice is crystal clear on the Iron Advance’s far superior comms audio, compared to when they’d cross-channeled with the slightly static-y Furtherance. Goosebumps run up Tony’s arms. “Good morning, all. I’m Steve, I’ll be your man in the chair today. Bruce is heading down to the armory.”

“Good morning, Steve,” Pepper says.

“The rest of his team is on standby to assist,” Rhodey says. “I don’t want a late-night scramble, but I’d rather find out what they’re doing here before anything else. Tony, you primed?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Locked and loaded.”

“Hail them again,” Rhodey says.

“Aye,” Steve says. “Still no call and – ah.”

Tony sees the readout on the HUD, too. The other ship is opening multiple bay doors, which is usually prelude to an attempted boarding.

“All right,” Rhodey says, resigned but focused. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

It’s pretty straightforward. The other ship, the Dissolute Monarch, belongs to Alpha Centauri pirates who are equipped with Killian’s latest stealth tech, which they’d been using to circle the greater orbit of the Kreyon superstation for easy pickings. Unfortunately, they thought that the Iron Advance’s lack of a Federation escort marked them out as an easy target.

A hard lesson to learn, but there it is.

It’s pretty quick, just lasting barely over an hour. Tony is Rhodey’s sky support, circling both ships and blocking any attempt use tractor beams or docking tech. Rhodey runs a tight operation no matter the time of day, and it’s over the moment JARVIS takes control of the Dissolute’s computers.

At the end of it, Rhodey and Bucky have all the pirates secured in the Dissolute’s holding bay, and Bruce makes the call to Kreyon, asking if they’re interested in collecting the trash.

While they wait for Kreyon’s party to arrive, Tony boards the Dissolute’s engine deck to poke at the stealth drive. The others are chatting away on comms, providing background noise while Tony makes notes on ways he’s going to fuck Killian up the next time they encounter each other.

“No bounty?” Clint says. “That can’t be right. Not for a single one of these guys? Is the ship at least stolen?”

“The ship’s repurposed,” Pepper says. “Probably bought really cheap. Maybe even above board.”

Clint chuckles. “What’s the universe coming to when we can’t count on pirates to be running on stolen planks?”

“Hey, Bucky,” Rhodey says. “Can you do a second sweep? Let’s be doubly sure on the lack of stowaways. Not that I’m doubting your scanners, JARVIS.”

“No offense taken, captain,” JARVIS says.

“Wait a sec,” Bruce says. “Got a bounty hit for two of your holds, actually. After adjusting for face mods.”

“Would it be too gauche to start asking about the cut?” Clint says.

“Yes,” Steve says.

“Very gauche,” Rhodey says. “Have half a mind to toss you to the Kreyon myself.”

“Hey,” Clint says.

 “I’d help you toss him,” Steve adds.

“Hey!” Clint exclaims.

Despite himself, Tony smiles.

As a pilot study of how the two crews could work together, this is a decent data point. They get along, and the formerly-Furtherance all seem fine with taking support points under Rhodey.

Then there’s Steve, who’s still holding the main comms. Tony can admit that the guy’s cool and efficient; his voice familiar yet unfamiliar as he directed movement from a vantage point without being in the movement itself. Tony would’ve thought that Steve would be frustrated (though polite) about having to sit it out but, no. He’s sounded nothing but glad to be able to help, and responds to Rhodey’s commands with an ease that should not be as disconcerting as Tony finds it.

“Clint’s enjoying the brig too much,” Natasha says. “Probably always wanted to live in one.”

“See, this is just getting nasty,” Clint says.

In Tony’s educated opinion, there are no solid conclusions to be reached just yet, aside from the fact that it isn’t disastrous when they work together. Unfortunately, they already know that they’re not disastrous when they work together. It’s the whole reason this cultural exchange happened in the first place, with the Furtherance trusting the Iron Advance to come to their aid.

Tony wonders if he would’ve preferred that they’d showed some incompatibility somewhere. Not enough to get anyone hurt, or to let the pirates get away, but something minor.

Maybe it’s because he’s busy thinking about that, and second-guessing what the near future will hold for his ship, that Tony gets sloppy.

He’s switched to taking in-depth readings of the stealth drive core, and doesn’t register the minor magnetic interference until it’s no longer minor, surging from the quantum core in a sudden pulse of energy that sends him staggering backwards.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve says. “Just got a strange reading from your location.”

“Built-in defense, looks like.” Tony tries to stand up straight, and realizes that the clench in his chest isn’t receding. “Okay, this is not, uh…”

“Tony,” Rhodey says.

“It’s the drive, it—” Tony stops, breath stuttering. “Oh, here we go. Happy, I need you to get me a spare.”

“On it,” Happy says. “Should I bring it out—”

“No, I’m crossing back, get to the hangar.” Dots of light dance across Tony’s eyes, and they only get worse when he powers the rockets up, tilting his surroundings wildly. “Wow, Killian’s going to owe me big time for this. JARVIS, take the armor, would you, buddy?”

“Got it,” JARVIS says.

Rhodey asks if anyone else has stumbled on other defense mechanisms, but the replies mesh together in a blur of noise. Tony’s focus is on the wire-frame escape route guide on the HUD, complete with a helpful little distance-to-destination countdown underneath. JARVIS is doing most of the work correcting the armor’s trajectory, but Tony tries to convince his body that he’s still piloting instead of having a heart attack.

Tony’s going to hurt Killian a lot.

It feels like forever before JARVIS lands the suit on the Iron Advance. Tony rolls with the momentum, staggering up the hangar walkway as the armor clicks open, letting him step out with his hands hand outstretched.

Happy’s already there, one hand out to catch him, the other holding a spare arc reactor. The ship seems to spin when Tony’s knees buckle, but it’s fine because Happy knows what he’s doing, and Tony lets himself be caught and lowered to the floor.

“How many days since last unscheduled switch?” Tony says.

“Can’t say I’ve been counting, boss,” Happy says.

There’s a click down below, followed by the heavy tug within his chest cavity. Tony’s ears always ring during this part, though there’s no clear physiological reason why they’d do so. Another louder click and the pressure starts to ease, second by second, until Tony no longer has to push to breathe.

“Okay, it’s in,” Happy says. “How is it?”

Tony nods and takes a handful of controlled breaths. His vision returns, albeit blurrily at first, supplying the upside-down view of the hangar bulkhead, the charging ports off to the right.

“Tony’s clear,” Happy says, presumably into the comms.

“Tell Rhodey to—” Tony flails with his earpiece. “Rhodey? You gotta lock down that drive, get it out before the Kreyon get here. If Killian’s put that on a drive, he could put it on other things.”

“That would be stealing,” Rhodey says.

“We’re entitled!” Tony grabs blindly at Happy to pull himself up into a sitting position. “We can’t let it—” He stops.

Happy’s here, but so’s Steve. In fact, that’s one of Steve’s hands on him, braced on Tony’s back, though he pulls it away slowly when it’s clear that Tony can sit up on his own.

“Who’s on flight?” Tony asks.

“Bruce,” Steve says.

“Okay, so, Killian’s rigged a magnetic pulse that can kick the arc reactor.” Tony taps his earpiece. “Everyone getting this? That’s small scale. If it gets back to him that it works, you know what he’ll do? He can use it to take out the Advance. So we gotta take the drive.”

“Can you figure out how it works from the readings you got?” Rhodey says.

“Maybe, but that’s only a maybe.” Tony stands up and checks his tab. “If you wanna play it safe, that’s fine. I’m coming back out to finish the read.”

“Wait, what?” Steve says.

“I’m going to—” Tony blinks, surprised to find an arm blocking his way. Steve’s arm, which is attached to Steve, who is frowning. “I won’t go inside the engine, I’m not crazy. But the armor’s sensors are more accurate than the ship’s at the scale I need.”

“Can someone else get the read?” Steve says.

“Hey,” Tony snaps. “Are you the expert now?”

“I can get the read,” Rhodey says.

“No!” Tony pushes at Steve, who doesn’t have the decency to flinch. “You are not the fucking captain, Rogers. That’s Rhodey, so he gets to make the calls, and he doesn’t have to listen to your fucking orders.”

“I’m not giving an order,” Steve says calmly, grabbing each of Tony’s hands when he tries to swing. “It’s a suggestion, because you are in no condition to go back out. Wasn’t that a heart attack?”

“I’m an expert at heart attacks. I know what I can take. Right, Happy?” Tony turns to Happy expectantly.

But Happy just makes a small, apologetic shrug.

“Wow,” Tony says. “Wow. Really seeing who my friends are today.”

“We have the additional manpower today, Tony,” Rhodey says. “It’s fine. Stand down. Pepper’ll come to get the read.”

Tony looks at Steve.

Steve returns the gaze, resolute and unapologetic.

So that’s how it is, then. If Tony weren’t clammy and shivering he’d even try to throw a punch Steve’s way, but that would just give him a broken fist on top everything else. He settles for grabbing his earpiece and throwing it at Steve, where it bounces harmlessly off his forehead.

“This isn’t your ship,” Tony says. “This is my ship. It’s Rhodey’s ship. If you think you can come in here acting like you own the place now, as if we owe you our fucking obedience, you’re fucking wrong. Also, fuck you.”

Tony wobbles past him, and then past Happy (who sensibly stands back, chagrined) to head deeper into the ship.

Tony falls asleep in the med room. He didn’t plan to, but he’d been sitting on the medical cot taking his vitals and drinking a bottle of electrolytes, and somewhere after his putting the bottle away he’d apparently passed out. It’s still early in the morning, after all, so it makes sense that he’d fall asleep as soon as he parked his butt somewhere.

He startles awake what feels like five minutes later.

Somehow, he’s not that surprised to see Steve hovering over him, the man frozen guiltily. Tony looks down, registering through the grogginess that Steve had been in the motion of putting a blanket on him, and that must’ve been what woke him up.

“Sorry,” Steve says quickly. “Sorry, I’m—”

“Wait.” Tony sits up shakily, and pulls the blanket tighter around himself. He jerks his chin at the stack of stools opposite. Steve takes one and sits, though his body language’s all stiff and his hands are clasped awkwardly in front of him.

Tony rolls his shoulders and stretches his jaw. The post-cardiac arrest stiffness is mostly gone, as is the adrenaline rush. The nap probably helped, too.

“The Dissolute gone?” Tony asks. “I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, they took it,” Steve says. “Pepper got all the readings, though. And Rhodey managed to negotiate an auction purchase of the ship once it’s out of compound. You might still be able to get the drive.”

“Oh, awesome.” Tony bunches the blanket up against his chin. “I want to apologize for earlier. I’m sorry. Lost my temper.”

Steve starts a little. “Oh. It’s okay, I understand.”

“Anything to do with the arc reactor makes me touchy.”

“For good reason,” Steve says. “I didn’t know it was connected to you like that.”

Tony shrugs. “Not an excuse.” His brain hasn’t completely booted up yet, but there are certain talking points he’d just managed to draft out before he fell asleep. “Look, I’m a work in progress. And I know I haven’t really made you feel welcome—” now Steve really looks surprised, “—so I’m sorry for that, too. I know you’re not muscling your way in here. You wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Steve points out.

“Okay, maybe. But if you were muscling your way in, Rhodey is more than capable of handling you. So, if we can ignore that whole bit I said, that would be great, I’d appreciate it.”

“So those weren’t real issues you have with us being on board?” Steve says carefully. “Because it’s okay if they are. We can talk it out.”

Tony sighs. He almost wishes he had the energy to hold on to his anger for longer than a hot minute, but these days it just seems too much effort. Grudges are best spread around and shared collectively; this makes the fact that Tony seems alone in his reservations a hint that he should just let them go already.

Rhodey pointed out the obvious, too. If there are more people on board, there are more people to share the work. Maybe Tony needn’t push himself as hard. Or at least, he’d have options other than having to pushing as hard.

Besides, Steve’s a good guy. Infuriating and confusing, but still a good guy, and any other ship would be fucking stoked to have him, even if for just a little while. The others aren’t so bad either, of course, but Steve in particular? Yeah, it’s good. Tony just needs to stop thinking only about himself all the fucking time.

“Here’s how it goes. I respect you, Steve. Maybe I haven’t made that clear, but I do. And maybe in the past I’d wondered what it would be like to actually have you on board, and I thought that if that ever happened we would… I don’t know. Be friends.” When Steve looks stricken, Tony quickly adds, “No, I get it, don’t feel bad. You can’t force things, and just ‘cause we work well in a fight, that doesn’t automatically mean anything else.”

“Tony, I—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Tony says, hands up to wave him off. “I’m not saying this to guilt trip you. Really. I’m just explaining where I’ve been coming from. I don’t want to kick you off the ship, I promise. All of you should stay for as long you need. We’ll help you, and you’ll help us, and we’ll figure out the best next step. If it means I have to build a new ship, or a new wing, or whatever else, that’s okay. New project, always fun.”

Tony needs a second to wrestle with the blanket, but he eventually manages to get a hand out and offer it. Steve stares at it, then back up at Tony’s face. Tony smiles, hopeful but tired.

Steve takes the hand and shakes it.

“We good?” Tony says.

“I do want to be your friend,” Steve says. “I do—”

“Come on. Fresh start, okay? I just did a wonderful thing called being honest—”

“Look.” Steve fumbles with his jacket, eventually pulling out a small old-fashioned notepad. He hands it over. “Just look.”

Tony turns the notepad around.

- Past accomplishments – Tershin, Minati, Svartalheim

- Past common missions – FP-614, Lunar Exo, Desda, 85B Link

- Creations – armor, grav links, flight, AI, nitrogen dome

- Sol activities – SI, station comm, dark matter engine

“What is this?” Tony asks.

“Topics.” Steve’s voice cracks a little. “To talk about with you.”

“A crib sheet?” Tony says in bafflement. “Why?”

“Because…” Steve does a full body shudder, which is so utterly bizarre that Tony flicks a finger against the inside of his wrist to check that he’s awake. “C’mon, I told you! I said it, I said it outright, to your face! I don’t know why it’s…” He deflates. “Nat made me write the list.”

“Natasha,” Tony echoes.

“Because I panic whenever I’m around someone I really like. The list is supposed to help me know what to say.”

Tony looks at the pad again. Evidence of interest and intent.

“But it’s not that I’m expecting anything, or anything like that.” Steve crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then crosses them again. “It’s just so you know, that’s where I am. Since we’re sharing. And it’s not that you weren’t welcoming, you were, in your very Tony way, exactly like I knew you’d be. I’m the one who should’ve done better, but it got so important to me that I get it right that I kept tripping up. I didn’t want you think it’s only because… I’m not entirely shallow, that’s what I’m saying. Because I already liked you before.”

“Back up,” Tony says. “Shallow?”

“It’s not just that! I would’ve wanted to get to know you better no matter what you look like. Okay? I need you to know that.”

Tony is a literal genius. Given enough information, he can put a picture together and use it to make sense of the greater scheme of things.

Yet the information Steve has placed before him stays slippery and alien, and incomprehensible no matter which way Tony tries to grasp it.

Through Steve’s monologue his eyes darted around the room, avoiding Tony at all costs up until the press of silence settled upon them – Steve finished and Tony unable to respond. It’s at this point that Steve finally looks at him, and the anxious uncertainty on his face gives away to a confused double-take that perfectly encapsulates Tony’s own bewilderment.

“Is that still unclear?” Steve says slowly. “Should I try again?”

“I think so,” Tony says.

“Which part? From the top?”

“I thought I disappointed you. I wasn’t what you expected, that’s why you were all…”

Steve’s mouth falls open. “No! No, geez, no, that’s not… I already liked you, right? I like you – you’re funny and smart and brave, and your voice is always so full of emotion, and even though I never got to see your face I could always tell how you’re feeling, if you’re glaring at me or anything like that. Then when I finally get to see you, and I can’t breathe.”

Steve’s chest heaves, as though he’s been running. Tony thinks he might be doing the same, out of sympathy pangs.

“There’s so much,” Steve says, quiet and amazed. “Your face. So much going on, and it’s… It’s all so beautiful.”

Tony seizes up. “Uh.”

“Is that really so strange? Pepper said you were, uh… very popular back on Earth.”

“Sure, when I was young, rich and pretty.”

“Those first two don’t mean much out here, and you’re still damn pretty.”

Tony feels his face twist. “Steve, come on, you can’t be saying that—”

“I am,” Steve insists. “This what I’m saying.”

Tony may not be awake enough for this. Though it’s just as possible that he could never be awake enough for this.

Better to think about the safer parts first, and how that clears up the portions that have been frustratingly murky. Oh, that’s why Steve’s been so awkward since he’d boarded. Oh, so Steve wasn’t being mercenary in his attempts to be kind. Oh, so that’s why Bucky, Sam and Natasha have been snickering assholes this whole time.

“I’m not asking for anything,” Steve says. “I’m just explaining why I’ve been….”

“Yeah, I get it,” Tony says. “Thanks.”

“Okay.”

“You really got worried when my arc reactor fritzed, huh?”

“I would’ve been worried whether or not I had feelings for you.” Steve twitches. “Um.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me.”

“Right.”

“Thanks for the blanket, too.” Tony frowns down at himself. “I should probably head back to my room.”

“Right, right.” Steve stands when Tony does. “I should head back, too.”

“This isn’t a ‘no’, okay? It’s a ‘maybe’. I need to think about it.”

“Of course. Naturally. Totally understandable.” Steve backs up, knocking his head a little on the partition as he passes through the doorway. “You don’t even have to say anything at all if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Tony. I’m glad you’re okay.” Steve smiles, a quick flash of warmth that’s gone when he ducks out of the room.

Tony feels… calm. Calmer than he probably should be under the circumstances, but he just had a heart attack, and maybe his body’s decided it’s not worth having another one over Steve.

Steve, who likes him, despite everything that Tony is, and despite Steve being everything that he is.

Tony had let himself imagine what it would be like if Steve were here. The reality didn’t play out the way he’d pictured, but apparently it also didn’t play out the way he thought it was playing out as he lived through it.

He wasn’t disappointed. The opposite.

Yes, Tony wants this, and him. He still doesn’t understand Steve, and quite possibly understands him even less now that he’s aware of Steve being the sort of guy who’d want Tony like that, but… why not. The universe is tremendous and unpredictable and has two million impossible things happening in every direction.

Tony puts the blanket down and steps out of the med room. Steve’s a fair distance down the hallway, but not so far that Tony can’t catch up.

Steve hears him and turns, which is good because then Tony can slide his hands up around Steve’s face and hold him in place to kiss him.

Steve makes a shocked sound high in his chest. For a second he’s perfectly still, but before Tony can second guess himself Steve comes alive, moaning and kissing back, his arms like iron bands around Tony’s back to yank him close. Tony does the decent thing and responds by wrapping his arms over Steve’s shoulders, holding on for dear life.

There’s not much finesse in this. Their noses mash together, their lips not quite aligned, but Steve’s laughing breathlessly between kisses and that may just be the best sound in the universe. Steve’s solid and broad and warm, and Tony fits so nicely in the circle of his arms.

There’s little leverage with the both of them standing in the middle of the hallway like this. As they kiss – and kiss and kiss some more – they also tip one way and then another, their shared center of gravity off-balance and almost sending them careening into a railing.

“So,” Steve says, lips brushing Tony’s cheek during in a lull where Tony’s trying to figure out how to not knock their knees together. “You’re done thinking about it?”

“No, not really.” Tony takes another kiss, this time watching the way Steve’s eyelids flutter shut and back open with the motion. “But I like you too. So I thought you should know that first.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You like me. But did you like me… before?”

“Does that make a difference?”

“It might. Seeing as that I liked you before.”

“Is this a competition now? Are we competing? Because I don’t…” Tony trails off, because Steve’s grinning now, eyes damn near twinkling and Tony has the sudden, visceral understanding of what Steve meant when he’d said he’d lost his breath at the sight of Tony.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly. “Missed you.”

“That’s your own damn fault, Steve.”

“Missed you anyway. Looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“You don’t care that I’m not like you and your crew, right? That I’m not a soldier, or uh… built like one?”

“Why would I… That bothers you?” Steve leans in, pressing his forehead to Tony’s. When he speaks, the words brush over Tony’s lips. “No, Tony. It’s not in any way a factor in how I like you. It’s just another new thing I learned about you, and important for that.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Just checking. And yes, I liked you before.”

“Ah, good. So I wasn’t imagining it.”

Tony sputters. “Fine. Whatever. But I really do need to go to sleep.”

“Of course.” They untangle their limbs, though Steve doesn’t go far. He stays close, his shoulder bumping Tony’s and fingers circling Tony’s forearm loosely. “I’ll walk you.”

“You’ll walk me,” Tony echoes. “This isn’t a big ship.”

“I can still walk you. You did just have a heart attack.”

“You weren’t going to walk me like five minutes ago.”

“It’s an excuse, Tony.”

Tony tries to hold a scowl, but Steve has that deceptively cheerful face on, the one that makes clear he has no problem letting this run for far longer than it needs to solely for the heck of it. Tony rolls his eye to the heavens and says, “I will let the excuse pass this once. You can walk me back.”

“Super.”

Close to noon the next day, Tony gets up, cleans up, and trudges up to the flight deck.

Rhodey and Pepper are there, though after exchanging pleasantries and confirming that Tony’s all right, Pepper excuses herself to perform a systems check. Tony makes himself comfortable in her seat, and listens to another round of Rhodey’s masterful storytelling, where he shares the excitement Tony missed when the Kreyon Enforcers arrived and were none-too-pleased about an unaffiliated ship besting the pirates that have been plaguing them for months.

“And in conclusion,” Rhodey says, “I got you the drive.”

“Holy shit, you got me drive,” Tony says.

“You could be more excited about it.”

Tony gasps. “Holy shit! You got me the drive!”

“That’s just embarrassing.” Rhodey’s relaxed now, but there’s concern in the way he studies Tony’s face. “No more cardiac arrests, right? We’ve talked about that.”

“None for me, and none for the ship.” Tony’s gaze drifts past Rhodey to the ship’s control panel.

It’s quiet for now, the screens sharing data of the Iron Advance in cruise mode, full steam ahead, with little dots on the ship map to mark her passengers. Tony’s constantly surrounded by machines he’d put together, but every so often it’d hit him what that actually means. He built this ship, but it’s the people in it that gave it purpose and made it a home.

“Hey, captain,” Tony says. “Just wondering. Did you know about Steve’s crib sheet?”

Rhodey coughs into his fist. “Ah. Well. The guy needed all the help he could get.”

“Yeah, true.” Tony sighs. “So, uh. There’s that, now. Me and Steve. But I don’t want it to influence whatever you decide for the crew.”

“Of course it’s going to influence anything I decide,” Rhodey says with a laugh. “I started flying this piece of bespoke machinery with my friends. Friends, Tony, not crewmates. It’s compromise all the way down, and that’s fine. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tony ducks his head, grateful and embarrassed for it. Rhodey reaches over to squeeze Tony’s arm, the warm pressure enough to loosen the knot in Tony’s stomach.

“Let’s finish the trace on the people that killed the Furtherance, and work it out from there,” Rhodey says. “But what do you think about extending the Advance? Don’t make anything yet, just… plan it out. See what options we have.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“You eaten yet? No? Okay, then you’re getting out of here. When you’re done, we’ll break down the drive, see what pops out of the box.”

Those are captain’s orders, so Tony goes down to the mess.

Surprisingly, there are people there. It’s usually quiet before the lunch rush, but there’s Bucky and Bruce together at a table watching something on a screening tab with near-identical expressions of extreme concentration. Sitting opposite them at the table is Steve.

There are two entrances into the mess, and Tony happens to be facing Steve’s back when he enters. He walks up, considers his options, and swipes a thumb across the skin behind Steve’s ear.

Steve’s whole body jolts in shock. His head whips around to face Tony, agonized smile twitching across the rictus that is his face.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to panic around me anymore,” Tony says.

Steve exhales slowly. “That’s just mean.”

“C’mon, you knew I was there,” Tony says. “Footsteps, all that.”

“Footsteps usually lead into a greeting,” Steve replies. “Something like ‘Hi’ or ‘Hello’ or ‘I’ve been thinking about you, have you been thinking about me?’”

“It’s too early for any of that.” Tony moves away to the dispensers, picking through the vacuum packs for something light that doesn’t make his sadly still-queasy stomach turn. Fucking Killian.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky says. “If you move out, can I take your room?” He looks up at Tony’s face, then back down to the tab. “Okay, we’re still not there yet.”

“Precisely.” Tony returns to the table, armed with food and coffee, and takes the chair next to Steve. He does not react when Steve scoots over a little, his knee brushing Tony’s underneath the table.

It’s fine. This is still potentially a bad idea, but it’s also potentially an excellent idea – it merely depends on the execution, and the will of all those involved. Tony does enjoy a challenge if the goals are worthwhile, and the chance to discover Steve, to know him and understand him and maybe help Tony understand himself – that’s definitely a goal worth trying for.

“So.” Tony considers Steve, dressed down and curved towards Tony and oh-so-very-touchable. “A little overdue, but do you want me to show you around the ship?”

Steve beams. “Yes, please.”