Avengers 1. Chapter One

In Which Steve Accepts Another Drink

Tony Stark usually spends a little bit of time in his workshop every day. Okay, he spends a lot of time in his workshop every day. But what he doesn't usually do is spend three consecutive days there working on an apparently hopeless project. He was tired, he was hungry, he was irritable, and he had not talked to a single person in 60 hours- save for JARVIS, of course, who doesn't really count. In regards to this, one can only imagine his reaction when said AI informed him that he had a 'visitor.'

"Who the hell would be visiting me, JARVIS?" He growled into the air, leaning over his screen. "If you don't tell me who it is, I swear, I wil-" He was cut off by a knock on the glass behind him: two slow, hesitant, knocks. He groaned and leaned forward on the table, burying his head in his arms. Great. Reaching to his right, he slammed his hand on a button, opening the sliding glass door.

"Let me guess, Cap," he said when he heard footsteps entering the room, "blew up another iPod? Smashed a TV remote?" He grinned and jumped up, spinning around and pointing a finger at the blonde man standing before him, "No, no, give me one more. Your Bluetooth snapped in half again!"

Steve, who was standing a few feet away, pulled a face. Tony, however, could tell that he was slightly impressed as he gently laid the shattered pieces of his mechanics on the workbench. "Am I really that predictable?" He grumbled disappointedly, looking more than slightly ashamed.

Moving from his desk to the workbench, Tony picked at the pieces of what resembled a mobile. "Ah, your phone… Your phone! That was my next guess." Turning to the soldier, he raised an eyebrow and held up a large piece of keyboard. "What did you /do/ to it?"

"Well, um," Steve was mumbling, looking down at the floor with the demeanor of a kicked puppy, "the uh… the 'W' key wasn't working… and that, eh, annoyed me… a lot..."

Tony looked back and forth between the remains of the phone and Steve. "The hell…" after a moment, he burst into laughter, dropping his piece of phone and bending over, clutching his stomach as he howled. It took him a moment to compose himself before he cleaned up the pieces of phone and dumped them in a trash bin. "Thanks kid. That's just what I needed."

Steve gave the trash bin a confused look and stumbled over his words. "But. But. But aren't you going to, go to, you know…"

"I need a drink," Tony interrupted, ignoring his blathering, "You want a drink?"

Steve, who still looked upset about hurting the phone, looked a bit bewildered. "A drink? Like, as in alcohol? Yeah, sure… okay I guess."

Tony moved to the bar that was located in the corner of the room, because he is Tony and he keeps a bar in every room of the mansion, and started to pour two drinks. "Tell me something, Cap," said he as he measured out the alcohol, "Did you manage to destroy every piece of technology that existed in the forties too? Or is this just a twenty-first century thing?"

Tony leaned casually against the bar counter and held out the drink for Steve as he approached. Taking it, the man studied it wearily, holding it up to the light and sniffing it with some distrust. "Well… before the serum, I was a tiny little twig. I probably couldn't have broken a toothpick then if I tried."

"Probably broke easier than a toothpick, too. It's not poison, by the way- at least not that kind." Satisfied with the hesitant sips Steve was drinking, he leaned back and tugged open a draw, sifting through it with his free hand.

Steve looked over his shoulder curiously. "Looking for something?"

With much triumph, Tony pulled out a sleek black phone. It was then that he realised how incredibly close Steve was to him. Tony could feel warm, minty, breath on the back of his neck as his muscles froze up. It's not like he was attracted to Steve or anything. Tony was always one hundred percent totally honest with himself. So if he happened to have interest in the tall, muscular, blonde, then he would have definitely known it. His nervousness was attributed only to the fact that he was afraid of falling over after bumping into him or something, because he really was built like a brick wall and… right. Not attracted. "Here," he choked out, twisting awkwardly to hand the phone to him. "Steve-proof model. You know, you're about as bad as Thor with these things." As a rule, Tony was always humourous, no matter what, "But he's not human. He has an excuse. You, on the other hand…" He chuckled and managed to smoothly slip around the counter, out of the close premise he had seconds earlier been trapped in.

Steve scratched his head and continued to slowly sip the alcohol, "I guess I'm still getting used to my strength, is all."

"No," Tony shot him down immediately. "Not true. You had time enough when you were fighting and dancing to get used to that. This is something different. An anger management problem is what you've got, or," Tony paused. He could see it now. Stress, fatigue, exhaustion, loneliness. Steve was not in a good place. It must be hard, he mused, to have to go through such drastic changes, lose everything you love… and then, how frustrating to be in a world you don't understand. Steve was not in a good place, and Tony had no right to go there. He had no invitation. "or something like that." He quickly downed the rest of his drink and poured himself another.

Yes, he definitely wasn't attracted to Steve. He wasn't even Tony's type anyway- and his being a man had nothing at all to do with it. Eyeing the other man over his liquor, Tony sorted out the situation in his mind. True, he did allow himself to spend more time with Steve than the rest of the Avengers, and maybe he was just a bit more lenient with him… But that didn't mean anything. It's not like he found that perfectly real smile he got sometimes breathtakingly adorable or anything, and he definitely did not love the way Steve would sometimes reminisce on the past and forget about the world around him. Because if either of those things were true, that would mean that he was interested in Steve and that the feelings would never be returned because it was Steve and he was Tony. It wouldn't ever work even if he were attracted to him, which he wasn't, so there was no point whatsoever, nope, absolutely none.

But what if, for some reason, in some alternate universe… what if Steve was attracted to him? What if Steve did like Tony's company? What id Steve didn't care about all of Tony's problems?

Yeah. Alternate universe.


	2. Chapter Two

"Hey, Tony, what are you looking at?"

Tony snapped back to reality and realised he had been staring at the soldier, who had a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Nothing, just thinking."

"Oh, well," Steve looked down at his lap and shoved his glass across the counter, "can I have more?"

Smirking, Tony poured another round. "Well, well," he sang, handing the glass to the other man, "I didn't know good 'ole Captain America was one to drink." It was all forced, it was all fake- because Tony Stark was supposed to be happy and teasing and flirty.

"I'm not," he replied, resting his chin in his hand.

"Fantastic." The response was immediate and sarcastic, hinted with a slight bit of exasperation and amusement. Having a blushing drunk Captain America sitting in his workshop was not only a bad idea, but also a terrible one. Especially since, as far as he knew, the Captain had never been drunk.

"What?"

"What what?"

Steve looked confused for a second before he replied. "You... you said 'fantastic.'"

"Did I?"

"Yes." Tony smirked into his drink as Steve's face contorted in confusion. The alcohol was definitely starting to take effect. "I think..." Yeah, yeah, he should be responsible, but this was too good- and, besides, Tony Stark is not supposed to be responsible.

"Nah, I think you're imaging things now, Steve." It was hard for Tony to keep from laughing, what with the slightly addlepated look on the other man's face. Oh yeah, this should not be okay. He was going to Hell for this.

"Can I have more?" Tony found himself wondering if Steve even knew you were supposed to drink the liquor slowly. Probably not. Of all times, this was the one where Tony should show restraint, be a responsible adult, say no…

"Sure! Take as much as you want, buddy."

Grinning, he poured another glass for Steve and slid it across the counter into his awaiting hands. "Huh, uh, thanks. For this."

"Anytime, Cap."

Steve sipped as his drink for a moment before slowly looking up and staring at Tony. "Tony… I, uh, I feel kind funny."

"Really?" Tony gasped, feigning surprise. He would definitely have to get the security tapes later. Clint would love this. "What's wrong?"

Going to Hell? Ha! There was a suite there already reserved for him.

Steve's brow furrowed in concentration as he drummed his fingertips against the counter. "This… there's like, um." Steve groaned and slammed his fist down on the counter, "Oh, I don't even know okay? I don't, because I don't know."

At this point Tony, who was leaning on the back of a chair, had had too much. This entire situation was, frankly, hilarious- so, as would be expected of Tony Stark, he burst into laughter. He laughed so hard, in fact, that his balance was thrown off and he tumbled to the ground beside the now upturned chair, not even fazing his howling laughter. He had been needing to get this out, and damn was Steve's face hilarious! Why hadn't he thought to get the kid drunk before? Plus he looked so cute when he was flustered…

"S-Stark?" Steve leaned over the counter to peer down at Tony, "What, what are you doing down there, huh? Stark?" This, of course, only resulted in more laughter on Tony's part (as he tried to ignore those stunning blue eyes with their dilated pupils and that fucking adorable slur between his words when he talked), and a small frown advanced over Steve's face. "Stark? Tony? You should probably get up… you'll get dirty if you're on the floor."

We've been over the fact that Tony Stark is not supposed to be mature, if I am correct?

"Nah," he said dismissively, throwing his hands beneath his head as he laid flat against the floorboards, "Nah, I'm pretty comfortable."

Right, we have. I thought so.

Steve rose slowly from his stool and clung to the counter, slide-clinging over to where Tony lay. "I, uhm... can I try?"

Cocking an eyebrow, Tony smirked at the man standing above him. "Try what?"

"Try- try the ground. You said and then, you said because it's comfortable.

"Right." Tony flushed- most definitely not at the idea of have a drunk Steve Rogers lying drunk on the floor next to him, pink cheeks and slurred words, and- Tony figetted uncomfortably and banished those thoughts from his head. They were not okay. He was just a little affected by the alcohol, that was all. "Eh, sure. I mean, I'm not going to stop you."

Steve grinned cluelessly and lowered himself to the floor, stretching out beside Tony and looking over at him, all teeth. "This is nice!"

Tony squeezed his eye's shut without looki gback at Steve. He chose to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach as he took slow, steady breaths. No way was he affected by Steve's closeness (they were almost touching)- it was just the alcohol, that was all. "Do you always lay on peoples floors when you visit them, Cap?" He choked out shakily. "Is this what they did back in the fourites?" Eye's open now and glued to the ceiling- _breathe_- Tony definitely was not avoiding looking at the attractive man laying next to him.

Steve didn't answer for a moment."Um... no? But people in the twenty-first century do, they do. Apparently."

"Tell me something, Star-Spangled Spandex," Tony chuckled deviously, "have yopu ever been drunk before. Because you are. You're drunk. Drunk as a... irishman, they get drunk right? You're so drunk that you're acting like a confused five year old."

"Am not!" Steve retorted defensively.

A smirk consumed Tony's face. "You're laying on the floor of my workshop," he pointed out evenly.

"So are you!"

"My workshop." Tony grinned cockily, propping himself up an his elbow and looking devilishly down at Steve, "I can lay on the floor if I want."

"Well you had no problem with me, and then with me laying on the floor here too." Steve raised his eyebrows and felt his response was a winning one.

"You asked me to." Tony tugged his sleek black phone out of his pocket and fiddled with it for a moment. "And I'm a good host." _Click._ "And you are most definitely drunk." Tony dropped lazily back to the floor and sent the photo to clint. _'Cap is drunk and laying on my floor,'_ read the caption.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't, it doesn't look like... nothing." Steve looked like he was confusing the hell out of himself on his own, so Tony felt no need to help.

"Doesn't matter." Tony stood then, grabbing ahold of his glass (which had thankfully been on the counter and survived a near fall) and taking a long drink. "You know what does matter, though..." he prompted the man still lying on the floor.

"What?" Steve sat up a bit, interested and not nearly as afraid as he should be.

"The elephant in the room. The big question. The mystery-that-I-will-solve."

"What?" Steve was now even more curious, and still not afraid. That was the one flaw in the situation, the one thing that allowed Tony to screw up everything he had worked so hard to keep un-screwed- but then again, it was Tony Stark and he liked screwing things. All kinds of things. In all senses of the word.

And if he only knew the screwing he was about to get himself into that night...

"What kind of drunk are you?"

**A/N: So. Sorry it took so long. Just for your information though, even with all the mentions of screwing, I don't write smut. Nope. Won't do it. (Can't) So, eh, if you want smut and aren't satisfied with fluff and crack and light slash, well. Sorry ^^;**

**If I ever stop being awkward and uncomfortable writing sexy times, that will be the day I write you some. Kay?**


End file.

Avengers, Romance