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Tony loved to poke. It's a thing, alright. He poked his small circle of friends, his bot children, and his beloved AI. He poked SI interns, employees and the disgusting board of directors. He poked villains, including but not limited to glow stick wielding aliens from space and senators. (Yes. They should be said in the same line).
The point is, Tony loved to poke. It was not something that he intentionally did,(shut up, Pepper), not at first anyway. The poking was a result of underlying curiosity and desire to understand, according to his 35 year old definition. But his 14 year old version would disagree.
He could blame it on Howard, accuse him of shutting out his own son over the course of his childhood. But he had never done that. Not even on his worst day. Because the craving to impress his dad, even when he was wrong, grew up along with Tony like an unwanted, annoying younger sibling. The poking was a way to garner attention in the Stark household. Tony annoyed the hell out of his dad, his mom, Stane, Jarvis and Ana, the people with whom he assumed he had the freedom to poke. Only a few tolerated him, ofcourse. Stane and Jarvis were both exhaustingly amused while Ana was fond. His father abhorred it and his mother, well, she seemed okay but she was mostly out of everything that happened in real life.
He poked Rhodey like a 15 year old itch. Rhodey welcomed it and muttered 'Tones' in that embarrassingly fond way of his. And then, grief mingled with his eccentricity and his poking became flirting and cold, empty and devoid of feelings. He was mean to Happy and Pepper. Even to Rhodey. He poked them harshly, made their lives hard and never paused to think. Because thinking meant processing and that meant untangling all the confusing feelings about his parents and that was a big no. He was an asshole and that made playing the part even more easier.
Afghanistan was a wake up call, a hit to the head. More of a hit to his chest but you get it. He annoyed Yinsen with his poking too. That man was the strongest person Tony had ever had the chance to meet. Never backing down, surviving in hell and ready to sacrifice his life for a sinner like Tony. The first thing he did after coming back was poking everybody because now it was a part of his coping mechanism too.
Then came Stane and Palladium and New York and Mandarin. And he poked. As always. He got drunk because he was dying and poked Natasha and Fury. He challenged a criminal to try and kill him on camera. And New York was the epitome of poking. He poked Bruce, Thor and most importantly, his father's obsession, Captain America.
You see, Tony was good at poking. But no one had ever called him out on it. Either they got used to it (Rhodey, Happy and Pepper) or they neglected it (like so many people). Nobody had ever just looked at him and figured out his deepest insecurities within a few seconds and then had the audacity to challenge him. Nobody except Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. They poked and prodded like little kids, pulling pigtails and screaming at each other. But, Oh god, the fire was delicious.
When SHIELD went down and the ghost of the Winter Soldier vanished, Steve and Natasha became permanent fixtures in Tony's life. They never corroborated or talked much. Steve chasing dead trails with his new bird buddy, Natasha doing Natasha things and Tony being his eccentric self with Bruce. He wanted to poke, desperately at Steve. He wanted to see that fire reignite, and crush the captain's unflappable calmness. And that was the main reason why he was creepily staring at the lone figure sitting dangerously close to the edge of the tower's balcony at 3.14 in the morning.
"I know you're an adrenaline junkie and love jumping from huge heights but please don't jump off the tower."
Steve blinked, "what?"
Tony sighed, "Don't jump off the tower. If you die, then I have to answer the public's questions. "Captain America killed by a killer jump off the safest place on this side of New York" is a disgusting headline. And then, people come sniffing. And, it's too much paperwork and I abhor paperwork."
Somewhere along his nonsense rambling, Steve's frowny forehead smoothened and his lips twitched. Mission accomplished, no more brooding Cap.
"Now. We wouldn't want that."
Tony gasped theatrically,"He jokes."
And pouted when Steve raised his elegant, perfect eyebrow.
"Mind if I join you?," He gestured to Steve's dangling feet and suddenly noticed an opened but full bottle of tequila, a couple of SI champagne flutes and a bottle of water at his side. Steve shrugged and moved to make space. "It's a free country."
New York shined before them. The city was still bustling with energy, even during the sleeping hours. Lights blinking and shining in the distance competing with the stars that adorned the night (well, day) sky.
The silence was nice but Tony never did silence. He wanted to poke again. He seriously did not notice his own fidgeting until Steve huffed and offered a champagne flute of clear water.
"I know you're not drinking anymore." His voice was low and soft, as if to not disturb the calm bubble around them. Steve Rogers had a soft voice. People expected him to have a harsh baritone that demanded attention, so did Tony. One among the many prejudices he had of Steve that were proven wrong. Steve's voice was heard because you listened for it, across the battlefield.
"Yeah. Sobriety is a thing now." Tony took a few sips.
"Why were you drinking hard in the first place?" And there he is, the poking Captain.
God! Tony missed that fire since the breakup with Pepper. She had a straightforward way of wrangling answers out of him too, with questions like "why do you think that it's not today, Tony?, "Why can't you sleep, Tony?", "Why can't you agree you can't stop with the suits, Tony?", "Why are we still doing this, Tony, when we are both unhappy?" Okay, that got depressing fast.
Tony bristled outwardly.
"I don't know. Maybe because my father pushed a glass of vodka at my chest and asked me to drink it at 6 years old to make a man out of me."
A stolen glance showed Steve's horrified face, his blue blue eyes wide with disbelief, the frown back on his face. Damn it, Tony! He never accused his dad but hey, Steve Rogers made him do stuff he never wanted to. The guilt was palpable and Tony did what he always did, deflect.
"How is the search for Barnes going?"
His 70 years of sleep had done nothing to diminish his youth, but Steve looked tired and old, all of a sudden.
"It's going as good as expected."
His voice sounded far away, eyes fixed at an invisible spot on the New York skyline.
"Reminiscing?"
"Something like that, yeah." Steve took a direct swig from the bottle, not that it did anything for him. "I am wasting your bottle, by the way."
Tony waved to show that it's of no consequence and kept on sipping the water.
"If I built you a time machine, like if I ever could. It's not exactly possible because you know, time and space continuum, basic quantum physics. The entire timeline might be linear, we don't really know. What if it isn't? Oh then! Multiverse is certainly a thing -"
"Tony."
"The point is, you look morose. And if I ever built you a time machine, will you be okay?"
Steve stared at Tony for a few long seconds, trying hard to understand the word vomit. He sighed heavily and shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know."
Tony hummed, "what will you do? If you could go back, that is?"
Steve's grip on the neck of the tequila bottle tightened, his eyes still far far away.
"I owe someone a dance."
"Peggy Carter?"
"Yeah," Steve gulped, "Yeah. Maybe we could go for that dance. I could search for Bucky…"
The silence that followed had Steve lost in thoughts and Tony considered actually building a time machine. Tony wanted Steve happy, not because of altruistic or ulterior motives. Just because Steve deserved happiness or closure.
"What would be the first thing that you would do after going back?"
Steve pretended to think, "Get that dance with Peggy." He gazed at Tony, "And then maybe punch Howard for being an asshole." Tony choked on his water and was startled into a loud bark of laughter. He tried to glare at Steve but was met with those blue (azure blue blue) eyes filled with mirth, dimples stretching with his genuine smile. It was the same smile that greeted Tony when he woke up in the middle of debris after settling for death.
"You're a troll, Rogers."
"Hush. It's my secret."
The darkness seemed less sharp and more hopeful.
"And you won't come back?" Tony knew he sounded stupid because of course not.
"Maybe not. There is not much to keep me here." He gazed at the bustling city lights before meeting Tony's eyes, "But, a Time machine should be built first, Mr. genius engineer. Until then, I will survive with my morose old man tricks and tequila."
Tony laughed again and clinked his glass to Steve's bottle, "We need you, Cap. The world and the avengers."
Steve smiled, and it's not perfect. It's haunted by ghosts of his past, what ifs and trauma. But it's close. It highlighted his dimples, brightened his azure blue eyes and smoothened his forehead. And that's perfect.
"To the Avengers."
And Tony poked. Because that's what he does. He poked until sad supersoldiers smiled. He poked until he got assaulted. He spoke machines and science but never learned to speak human. Poking was his way of caring, his way of listening and his way of expressing interest. It was his weird Tony language and somehow Steve seemed to get that. A huge start indeed.
"To the Avengers."
xxx