Tony would love to argue with Steve, at the very least that he probably knows himself better than Steve does but... is that even true anymore? He has no idea. Sometimes Steve is so in sync with him that he wonders if the serum gave him mind reading abilities and he's just been too polite to ever mention it. Would drinking help? In all the ways Tony thinks it'll help, but Steve's got a point. If he lets himself go overboard he'll probably have a very bad time. And if he doesn't want Steve to look at him while he's a ball of emotion, drinking will only enhance that. No matter what lies he wants to tell himself about it.

But that doesn't mitigate the itch. The feeling like he needs to be sipping at a glass of something fresh and dark.

He sits still, though a little rigidly, while Steve shifts closer to him. And it's not because he doesn't want Steve close, he's realizing he just kind of wants to reach out and grab him. But it's everything else. The last thing he wants right now are platitudes- even if he knows Steve's not the kind of man to serve them. It still sounds like it. Especially anything having to do with strength. Something that Tony thinks he has very little of. He just knows how to get up and carry on, that's all. And usually can figure everything out if he gives himself enough time. That's not strength.

His shoulders come down again, same as always in that he doesn't realize he's sitting so tightly until he's coming off of it. But when Steve talks to him so softly, when he rests his head against him, he just feels...

A long breath gets pushed out from his lungs, something that turns into a little chuckle near the end of it and he shakes his head. "You have a real problem with that. You're very bossy." Not that Tony doesn't love it in most instances, anyway. Maybe half and half.

Looking at Steve, he takes a moment longer than he means to, time slowing a bit for him as his thoughts get a touch fuzzier. "I can't- right now. I know you don't mean for it to sound like you think it's easy- letting go- just. Not right now." Never, if he has anything to say about it. It's just not a time in his life he wants to emotionally revisit. Not like that. "I'll do all that- grieve," a little wry twist as he says it, like the word is dirty the more he contemplates the action of it. "When we're finished. When it's done." Like he shouldn't be allowed to until they see it through to the end.

"Until then I just need..." He has no idea. Has he ever known what he actually needs in life? His eyes fall to his empty glass again, tilting it in his hand. A drink. He needs another drink. But with that out of the mix... "Anything else. Something else. To fill the space while we're waiting for intel." His eyes raise to Steve again and then he looks at all the food he'd abandoned to come snuggle up. "You should eat more." As if he has any right to say that to someone else.

"I can't think of anything less I'd like to do than situps and jumping jacks right now," there's no sharpness in his tone when he delivers that news, and he manages to grin just a little. He knows Steve's penchant for punching bags until they collapse into dust or veer off into a wall and he doesn't really want to do that either. Even less so when Steve says something sweet, maybe without even meaning to. But...

He thinks he agrees. Tony himself still has tendencies to hole up. In the lab. Working through his hands and the mess in his brain is the only way he ever gets anything done anyway. Can't very well dwell on things that are bothering you when you have hot metal in your hands and have to concentrate, or if you run the risk of losing your place in a line of code if your mind wanders. He's best in an environment where he's creating rather than stewing on his own problems.

There's only slight resistance when Steve tries to take his glass, maybe one or two seconds worth before he lets go. There's no point in fighting with him about it. Or anything of that nature. Steve beats him out physically in every arena. And they're not fighting right now. Which is probably how it should stay. It's better like this.

With his hands empty they fall to his lap, as does his gaze. Thinking. Steve's giving him an out. What if he said yes? He'd go back to the lab- but he remembers those files are there. He'll start himself up again. It's not smart, which is precisely why he almost says yes of course. "That's my usual MO." But he's not so certain right now. Not when he looks up, at Steve so close, and can't seem to help the way he reaches out, stealing one of Steve's hands. Like he just needs to be holding on to something, and if it's not a glass, then...

"I think we both know that's not a good idea right now." Being as painfully honest as possible where Steve's just going to see through him anyway. He'll start on one thing and then he'll transition into running himself ragged trying to find leads while they're waiting for their other one to come in. In the mess of all of this, he seems to be thinking about something, the wheels churning behind his eyes. He just has this look about him and then very suddenly-

"Thank you. By the way." He clears his throat like those words had been stuck in there, breathing out a sigh after. His eyes drop, fingers turning Steve's hand over, palm up, so he can idly trace the lines there. "You don't owe me anything. You didn't... I know it would've made your life a lot easier to not bring this home. So..." If Tony had ever found that out, though, he probably would've never trusted Steve again. Ever. But that's just it. Most everyone else he knows wouldn't be as forthcoming. Hell... he might've tried to fix something like this before actually bringing it to light. One of his very huge, glaring personality errors. Somehow still, even though it could've destroyed them, Steve brought it home and told him right away.

There's not many people in his life he trusts like he trusts Steve. And this, tonight, solidifies why. "Thanks," he says again softly, tips of his fingers brushing over the inside of Steve's wrist, eyes still downcast.

It must be sick. Probably. That he just wants to shrug to that. That he maybe wants to say that Steve wouldn't have been the first. Not the first to lie to him, certainly, and not from a position on the inside where Tony trusts him so it makes it easier to do. Steve also wouldn't be the first person to hurt him. Wouldn't be the last either. It's more what he expects out of everyone, so when someone acts outside that he thinks they should be thanked.

When Steve touches the side of his face he recognizes the color of desperation but is a little too late to do anything to stop it as he tilts further into Steve's palm. His hand reaches up again, hand locking around his wrist not to deter or pull him away but to hold on. Eyes steady on Steve he really tries to soak everything in and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards just lightly. "Just wanted you to live a little."

Because Tony, in his ever expansive hypocrite ways, had been worried about Steve. That he'd disappeared into the cowl and the shield. That he fooled himself into being content marching around campus and waiting on a call every single day to come into battle, and put everything else on hold. He worried about Steve losing any part of himself that was Steve Rogers and not just Captain America. And maybe that wasn't his right to do at the time, and maybe he was being a little over dramatic, but his position had always been that... Steve Rogers was an intensely more interesting man than Captain America. And the world would suffer losing one out over the other. Not in the way it would've assumed. Hero over man, is usually the pick. But not for Tony.

And. Sure. That came from a place of bias. But that ground soon shifted into lighter and more loving hues. Look where they are. Sometimes it still blows him away that it's here.

Which is why when no other words make sense, "I love you." Sometimes that feels like an all encompassing thing. Those three little words. Sometimes it's also not enough on its own. "I'm glad you didn't. You could've. Could've done anything with this. I'm not used to- ...I'm still trying to figure out how to handle being someone's first priority. Usually doesn't feel like I deserve it." For a multitude of reasons, his last relationship and how he treated Pepper notwithstanding.

With his muscles and mind a little more whiskey-loose it doesn't take much encouragement for Tony to shift and almost melt right into Steve's side. This is an impossible situation but since when was that different for either of them? They dealt with things that most normal people couldn't even comprehend, let alone contend with. Somehow they'll get through this, if only because clearly that's what they want to do. They want to see through the end of this still hand in hand with each other.

Back in the lab Tony's fears really came down to one thing, and that's who Steve would pick. When faced with it. And making that choice for him seemed a lot easier than having to face the possible truth that it wouldn't be him. In the moment that had felt easier. Safer. But...

"No," he says simply, softly. They can put on a movie but it is highly unlikely it'll do anything to help him. He won't be able to sink into it, he'll just recede into his own messy headspace. It gives him the barest point of focus to just stare at but not really receive. He's too busy mentally thinking about a million other things and he just doesn't want to. "I need to turn off." If he doesn't there are many things liable to happen. But he's not used to that.

To putting something down while waiting for intel. Waiting is really not his strong suit. He likes to overanalyze and do everything himself. Charge in. Make things happen. It's a little frustrating that their initial game plan relies on other people. One of which is deep in hiding. And just like that, "Once we find out where Fury is we'll take the Quinjet. Odds are he'll know we're coming. Not that I don't trust Nat but the suddenness of this might make her want to at least alert him." And even if Fury's not one to run from anything, if he has the heads-up he'll know exactly what lies to service, if need be. Tony wants to cut through the fat of that.

But he hears himself saying this, going right back into planning because yes, he really can't sit. He can't. It's impossible for him. He heaves a sigh, this one far more exasperated than anything else. With himself and the situation. "Should've just listened to you to start," he says this immediately after, brain changing gears as he puts his hands at Steve's shoulders to push him further back against the couch and in one clean, though slightly wobbly, sweep he moves to position himself atop his lap, knees resting against his thighs. "What was it you were saying? Other ways to turn your brain off that you like more? Maybe I should try some of that." After all, next to drinking, there was one other way Tony coped with his problems.

While it's not a terrible idea, Tony won't regret it, and he definitely wants it, it might not be the healthiest coping mechanism. But it's one he sinks so easily into. A little too learned and too ingrained. And at this point, Steve fits into that part of his life too well to want to do anything else. To say that he's a little addicted to Steve, and to the sex that they so often seem to have, would be putting it almost a little too mildly.

But more than any of that, Steve has become a safe harbor. He's easy to seek out when life isn't going right, when he can't shut down when he really needs to, when he needs to quiet everything and he just can't. Steve's always there. So maybe it's a little bit of a learned behavior, and maybe one day he'll regret falling so into it with Steve, but he hopes not. Especially not right now while he's busy trying to press himself as close against Steve as he can as if they could blend into one being. Reciprocated almost instantly with the way Steve's hand slots against the back of his head and he can't seem to help a little groan that gets lost between them.

His hands perch at Steve's shoulders, anchoring there as he rocks his hips down against Steve's to try and catch some friction. There's no hesitancy, but that's due to the fact that there might be no other thoughts in his race to get them to go away with Steve's help. Eagerly offered, something he appreciates wordlessly. When he pulls away to breathe, it comes in short, shallow draws but he can't stay still. Leaning in he presses a line of bites and kisses across Steve's jaw and to his neck.

"Yes," he finally answers a little breathlessly while he still grinds down against him. "I don't just want that. I need that." Being terribly honest. He then tilts up, lips brushing over the shell of Steve's ear and he murmurs honeyed and low, "I need you."

It's those three words followed by the fourth, layered together with how close they're pressed up against each other. Urging a shiver out of him as he leans a little more heavily against Steve. They're almost more important than the other three words they share, I love you. Maybe sometimes they mean the same thing, but right now there isn't anything more perfect to drag him away from his mental mess than this. Knowing so deeply that Steve does have him. In all the ways that matters. Despite the flare of emotions getting the better of him, always driving him to somehow make the worst decisions- like trying to cut Steve off early- Steve still has him.

Didn't back down for a second. Saw right through him. And now they're here.

With a warm noise of surprise leaking out from the back of his throat when Steve lifts him so effortlessly, sending that comfortable thrill through him like always. Being toted around, manhandled, possessed so thoroughly by Steve is everything he's ever needed. Especially right now. And while he tries to wind himself around Steve while he's walking, not really letting up in their kisses when Steve seeks his lips out again, he's just as easy to get onto the bed.

Steve above him, laying slightly atop him with that heavy weight anchors him all the more and it gets a little quick, heated spill of breath from him, eyes closed tight for a few seconds so he can just bask. His hands shift up the length of Steve's bare back, and he feels himself saying something to Steve but it disappears entirely when Steve bites down into his neck. His fingers press in harder against Steve's skin, nails following quickly almost entreating him to stay there for as long as he'd like.

The groan that leaves him is something deep, wordless until another inhale and then he lets it out shakily in a single word, "Fuck." Practically writhing against Steve then, his hands dropping to grab a hold of Steve's hips. Not that he needs to hold him there with that weight, but he clutches to him while he rocks up against him. Impatient and needy as always. This is it. It always is. All it takes to get him away from himself. Handing himself so thoroughly over to Steve in just a bare few moments. Everything else is gone underneath the weight of him, the feel of his lips and teeth against his neck and suddenly nothing else matters but this. Just him. The two of them together.

"I'd out of my clothes for you but it doesn't seem like you wanna move," the words exit him in a rush, teasing though they are, needing to bound forward to the next thing and that's the two of them pressed against each other skin to skin. His hands flex at Steve's hips, shifting back to grab two handfuls of his ass, squeezing him hard and then hauling him forward as he rocks upwards again.

The sparks that light up his skin, that delicious sizzle of pain blurred with pleasure, almost having him melting completely underneath Steve. About at the same time that he's holding on hard to him because he doesn't want him to move away. Wants him to stay right where he is and make a mess of him. Stake his claim. Do whatever he wants. But somehow he finds it in him to huff out a little amused noise, looking up at Steve with one of those wry smirks. "Oh. Right. All me," teasing him.

Falling into it with him so easily. This is what he wants. And when they're like this he never wants it to stop. It makes it easier, too, because he's always in good company. That Steve only ever seems to want him and to want to lose himself in return. How can he ever want for anything else?

And where he was once maybe a little self conscious of the patchwork of scars sitting at the center of his chest, any errant ones he's accumulated in battle, now he settles so sweetly beneath Steve, his hands curving up the length of Steve's back again, fingers digging in when he drags them back the other way. A breath hitches in the back of his throat in the middle of all that attention and he arches so very shamelessly, body begging Steve for more. "I don't want you to help yourself," it comes out of him in a rush, truthful and strong.

Without a thought he lifts his hips to help Steve get him undressed faster. Always sprinting ahead to the next best thing. Which would be the two of them naked. But he's a little bit in the lead. That's when he paws at Steve's shoulders with a firm insistent grip. "Want you to just take whatever you want. Then tell me what you need, too. But. Before all that. I need you to get naked." He grins down at him, mussing up Steve's hair as he sweeps a hand back through it and then pulls it forward, leaving some over his eyes. "You're a little overdressed for the occasion, gorgeous."

He feels so flush and warm, not missing a single thing about the way Steve claims him as all he needs. It's a dizzying thing, to be somebody's anchor point. To try and give them everything and love them so wholly that they give themselves over completely in return. But that's the reciprocal affection he finds himself in with Steve. Extreme give and take. As much as Steve has found something deeply rewarding, gratifying, and something he needs in Tony, Tony finds just as much meaning in Steve. And giving that over to somebody is terrifying.

But it's Steve. Steve who has only done right by him as much as possible and put him first when it's possible. The world calls to them for greater things and protection and they both know that that comes first. But when it's quiet, when it's just the two of them and no one else needs to be saved... he knows he has everything with Steve. And wants to give him everything in turn.

It's that exact swirl of thoughts in his hazy lust driven mind that has him gazing up at Steve with reverence and a deep well of love. But... he can't help the way he spins out towards lust-blown half-lidded eyes and a sudden deep flush that runs throughout his entire body when Steve's so very obviously putting on a show. He has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, even seeing this for what it is. Steve's getting undressed- for him. Slowly. And-

"Fuck you are so hot," words exiting in a shivering exhale. The rest of him seems to physically agree, unable to hide the way his cock throbs with eagerness at every new inch of skin revealed. Even when Steve gets to the less fluid final parts of getting undressed all Tony can think about then is, "I want you so bad." Almost whining it, but then being immediately rewarded when Steve finally gets completely nude and just slides right back atop him like that where he belongs.

His hands drop low, curving over Steve's ass with a hard appreciative squeeze and then drift up, palms and fingertips pressing in as he tilts up to catch Steve in a deep, heated kiss. He touches over Steve's hips, and up the length of his back again, almost like he's holding Steve to him. Further still up towards the back of his head until he tangles his fingers in Steve's hair, grasping at the strands. The problems they were having, Tony's head full of grief and rage and anger, all of it has completely disintegrated underneath the very real weight of Steve, the way Tony needs him.

It's that promise, almost more than anything, that settles something deep inside him. That roiling pressure, the learned impetus behind mistrust and shying away from personal connections. When Steve promises things like this, that he's got Tony, that he'll take care of him- Tony believes it. Both because he so desperately wants to and because Steve makes it easy. This, more than anything else, has him sinking into this so much easier, giving in or up or both. Just giving all of himself to Steve come what may.

They've barely even started so he tries not to present as the shivering wreck he already is, but that's just what Steve does to him. He watches with stilted breaths and dark half-lidded eyes, almost hypnotized by the sight of Steve between his legs. The way he directs him, seems keen to take what he wants. Even if that just Tony's personal pleasure. He swallows hard, reaching, sinking his fingers back through Steve's hair in a few long, slow, passes. Tries not to tighten his grip at the back of Steve's head when he sinks into it. Takes him into the wet heat of his mouth in a way that renders Tony into a useless puddle on the bed.

A groan spills out from him, pushed up from his lungs and for a few moments his eyes roll back and closed focused on the intense feel of Steve's mouth around him. He immediately tries to separate his focus on that while also trying not to ride Steve's mouth, to not buck his hips up or grab him. He devolves the way he always does, into curses and warm murmurs of praise that he doesn't even really hear. "Fuck," almost sighed out on a pleased exhale, eyes flickering open again to catch the sight of Steve looking at him and that alone gets a harder throb from his cock while Steve's sinking down again. "Fuck your mouth is so fucking- ...perfect," words lost to him for a second as he trembles beneath him. And perfect doesn't even begin to come close.

Steve might not be as learned as Tony is, but it's the eagerness, the fact that he seems to always want Tony as badly as Tony wants him, that's all that matters. He feels dazed and incredibly needy all at once, remnants of those drinks hitting him all at once while he's there underneath Steve's devoted attention. Everything else, all the very intense troubles they're facing, seem to have completely vanished as he lets himself go, lets himself exist in this space they've crafted so carefully for each other. "God I want you so bad," he groans out like Steve's mouth isn't currently on his cock. "Every way I can have you, every way you'll take me- all of it- fuck-" Maybe none of it makes sense, he barely even hears himself. But it makes sense to him.