Notes:

And that's time, ladies and gents. Thank you so much to everyone who has read,mented, left kudos, cheer-leaded (cheerled?) and made me feel wee in Avengers fandom.ing soon - more multi-chapter Steve/Tony and some Clint/Bucky because you are all terrible enablers.

Chapter Text

※Time,§ Steve pants as he skids to a halt in the basement of Avengers Tower, slapping his hand to the panel on the wall to close the doors behind him. His chest is heaving with breath and he＊s sweating buckets, though he doesn＊t care in the slightest because his whole body is thrumming and energised from the exercise. Outside, the sun is already creeping up and the day is already promising to be a glorious one.

※Youpleted the run in two hours and fifty-eight minutes, beating your previous personal best by three minutes,§ Jarvis says, and Steve punches the air delightedly, grinning.

※Not bad at all,§ he says breathlessly, walking across the garage towards the elevators. There＊s a bottle of water on the floor by the elevator, left there on his way out earlier that morning, and he stoops to grab it as the elevator doors slide smoothly open.

※Thanks, Jarvis,§ he says, twisting the cap off the water bottle and draining half of it in several easy swallows. Bracing his hands on the smooth chrome rail at waist height, he leans back against the wall of the elevator, smiling to himself as the elevator takes him up towards themunal floors. He＊s not ever managed to run that route in under three hours before, which can only mean that he＊s finally back to full fitness. It＊s taken way too long in his opinion; just over seven weeks of gradually building up his strength and energy, having to be careful about how much he attempts to do without rest.

Seven weeks. Seven whole weeks of recovering, looking back on his time in the multiverse and learning from it. He doesn＊t miss being there, but he does still miss the characters he met, particularly SJ. He＊d had a dream a couple of nights ago 每 a real dream, not a multiverse experience 每 that SJ had turned up at the tower and Steve had adopted him and Fury had gone absolutely spare and Natasha had taught SJ how to dance. He＊d woken up feeling close to tears, frustrated and miserable that SJ was gone, far out of his reach. It had taken him a while to realise that he was mourning SJ and the others and not just missing them; before he＊d made it back home they＊d all seemed very real and very much alive, and he hadn＊t immediately registered in his own head that they were dead.

It's not just SJ and the others that have been on his mind; it's also been seven weeks of living in the tower without Tony there, trying not to feel unhappy with how empty it seems. He hasn＊t heard anything from him, but he didn＊t really expect to. Tony made it quite clear that it was down to Steve to decide what he wanted from their relationship, and he＊d act ordingly whenever Steve finally did decide.

Seven weeks of time to recover and sort his head out, and Steve thinks maybe that he＊s starting toe to a few conclusions. Tentative, fleeting conclusions that are constantly creeping up on him at unexpected moments and then abandoning him when he actually tries to lock down on them. He＊s almost given up on trying to force his thoughts in any direction, and is instead just allowing himself to be content with the simple ache in his chest that misses Tony. He＊s starting to think that maybe that＊s enough anyway.

He knows Clint is in contact with Pepper and sort-of Tony (annoying him by sending him pointless picture messages, ording to Natasha) and Clint says Tony is safe and healthy and working his ass off. Pepper is apparently rather taken aback by his new and improved work ethic, though still wishes that he would stop bumping his own projects to the top of his schedule.

God, but Steve misses him.

Clint is sitting at the island counter in themunal kitchen when Steve walks in, fiddling with an arrow. There are more arrows and loose fletchings scattered over the countertop, alongside a screwdriver and something that looks suspiciously like a mini blowtorch from Tony＊s workshop.

※So, the no weapons at the kitchen counter rule lasted all of a week and a half, then,§ he calls out as he walks over.

※These are tools, not weapons,§ Clint replies, turning around and grinning at Steve.

※Arrows, Clint,§ Steve says, amused, and Clint glances at the carnage on the table and then grimaces.

※Sorry?§

※I＊m in too good a mood to be mad,§ Steve says honestly, stretching his arms above his head and grunting in satisfaction as his spine stretches and relaxes. ※Ran under three hours.§

※That what you were running before your excellent adventure?§ Clint asks, and Steve nods.

※Yep. Quickest I＊ve ever done, by three minutes,§ he says, and leans forwards, intending to stretch his back some more. He gets halfway down and feels his sweat-soaked shirt sticking ufortably to his back, catching under his arms. Wrinkling his nose, he stands up and peels it off, finding a semi-dry spot and wiping his face on it. The air conditioning in the tower is of course working perfectly, and the room feels fresh and pleasant against his sweaty skin.

※Aw,e on. Now that＊s just,§ Clint says in a tone somewhere between awed and exasperated. Steve lowers the shirt from his face to see Clint pointing an arrow at him, presumably because he＊s trying to make a point. ※I am totally not gay but seriously, you are like porn. If I sent a photo to Tony now he＊dbust.§

Steve folds his arms across his chest, trying not to be amused. Clint just raises both his eyebrows and spreads his hands apart, gesturing at Steve and then pretending to swoon, wrist pressed to his forehead.

※Clint.§

Cling straightens up in his seat, folding his arms across his chest in a mirror of Steve＊s pose. ※Steve.§

※Stop it.§

Clint grins. ※I＊m making you ufortable, aren＊t I?§

※Yeah, little bit,§ Steve says dryly, reaching for his water bottle again and feeling rather conscious of every flex of muscle as he does. He＊s not trying to show off, honestly, he＊s just thirsty.

※Not used to guys being open with the attention?§ Clint asks, eyes on the arrow in his hand. He reaches for the blowtorch, and then remembers Steve is there and puts it back down again.

Steve makes a thoughtful noise, shrugging one shoulder. ※Still not used to the attention, no matter who it＊s from,§ he says, and takes a swallow from the water bottle before putting it down. ※You spend most of your life as someone who never gets a look and then suddenly you＊re someone who＊s turning heads all over the place.§

※Wow, you＊ve clearly attended the Stark seminar on humility,§ Clint snorts, and then pulls a contemplative face. ※So, you ever banged a dude?§

※Clint!§

※I＊m just asking.§

Steve shakes his head, wondering how he can have such awful taste in friends. He＊s clearly going to have to make some more, ones that don＊t seem to consistently have winding him up as the top item on their to-do lists. ※You really aren＊t being very helpful.§

※Ha, that＊s almost exactly what Tony said.§

Steve huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before looking up. Clint is still looking at him, clearly waiting for an answer. ※Shall I do the abridged version of this conversation? No, I have never banged a dude,§ Steve says, making air "es with his fingers, and Clint chokes with supressed laughter. ※No, I never indulged in any helping hands with the fellas during the war. Yes, I have kissed a guy before, but it was over seventy years ago and was the result of a game of dare that got out of hand.§

Clint looks positively gleeful, shaking with restrained laughter. ※Captain America played gay chicken and lost.§

Steve stares at him, nonplussed. ※I have no idea what you＊re talking about.§

※Gay chicken 每 never mind. Did you like the result?§

※I didn＊t not like it. I didn＊t really anything it.§

※Alright. Continue.§

※Yes, I＊ve thought about kissing Tony. No, I can＊t think of any objections.§

※You know that positivity is not just the absence of negativity?§ Clint says cautiously. ※Like, you can＊t decide something is a good idea just because there＊s nothing to say it＊s a bad idea. You have to think it＊s a good idea because, well, because it＊s a good idea."

※Okay,§ Steve says, rubbing at his forehead. ※Maybe I quite like the idea.§

※Aaaaand touchdown!§ Clint says, throwing his hands in the air. ※Conclusion reached, that＊s time ladies and gents, please don＊t tell me anymore of your ideas about Tony.§

And despite Clint once again reaching Bucky-levels of annoying, Steve finds he＊s laughing. There＊s a funny sort of feeling in his stomach, a lot like butterflies, and the feeling only intensifies as he thinks about his admission. Kissing Tony＃it＊s true; now he＊s letting himself contemplate the idea, he＊s finding that maybe it wouldn＊t bepletely awful. Maybe okay. Maybe even pretty swell.

※So, if you would bang Tony and you hate being without Tony and you feel like a better person when you＊re around Tony＃?§

※Yeah,§ Steve says, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

※Yeah?§ Clint asks.

Steve blows out a breath, knowing exactly what Clint is actually asking. The ＆yes＊ is on the tip of his tongue, another admission waiting toe out into the open, but before it can, Jarvis is interrupting, his voice quiet and calm.

※Captain Rogers, Dr Richards is on the line. He once again says it＊s urgent.§

Steve sighs, folding his arms across his bare chest again and leaning sideways, checking his hip against the countertop. ※I＊m not in,§ he says, as Clint sniggers. There＊s a pause, and Steve holds his breath.

※I＊m afraid he knows you are here, Captain,§ Jarvis says apologetically. ※Johnny Storm saw you out running this morning as he was returning home. He has informed Doctor Richards that you appear fit and well, and that you were heading back into the tower. Doctor Richards is insisting that he needs to speak with you urgently, as he has spoken with Doctor Str

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