Being gentle, of all things, is honestly a side of him that Steve’s never shown Tony. Being gentle isn’t a luxury that Captain America had been able to afford back home. But this is different. It’s Tony’s comfort he’s worried about tonight, and as Steve listens to Tony explain, all he can think about is one question over and over again: Why would it scare me?
It takes Steve a moment of silence before he realizes — it’s not that Tony thinks Steve would be afraid of him. No, Tony’s worried that his scars, the reactor, his past, all of that would scare Steve away. Suddenly, the lack of eye contact suddenly makes a lot more sense.
Steve pulls back, his movements soft as he slips his hand back around Tony’s cheek and gently guides him to make eye contact again.
“Can I show you something?”
Being a guy gives Tony an unfair advantage in this situation. Steve grew up at a time in which close friendships between men was something to be cherished, and while he’d never had his feelings extend past friendship in those situations, he’s still used to things like seeing other men with their shirts off and being comfortable with that. But if Tony had been a dame? Steve would’ve never asked her to take off her shirt. Never in a million years. He also wouldn’t be comfortable taking off his own shirt in front of her. Like he’s about to do.
Once Tony nods, Steve unzips the top of his GREEN jumpsuit, revealing the same cotton shirt he’d had on when he’d been shot five days ago, and his arms cross over his chest and his fingers tug the corners of his shirt up until Steve can lift the fabric over his head.
And yeah, by all ways of measuring it, Steve’s body looks picture perfect.
“When I was little, I got into a fight with a kid at school. He’d been throwin’ rocks at another boy on the playground. Said it was cause his family was Italian and so they didn’t belong in America. I didn’t think it was right so I stepped in. Got hit by a rock so sharp … right here … that my Ma had to take me to the hospital just to make sure I’d be alright.”
But when Steve says right here and points to spot on his side, there’s nothing there except perfect skin.
“After I got the serum, that scar disappeared. Gone like nothin’ ever happened.” Steve pauses, eyes glancing out into the distance for a second before he looks at Tony again. He hadn’t thought about that memory for years.
“Back in New York, when we were fighting the Chitauri, I got scraped and cut so many times I lost count. My uniform afterwards, you saw, it was fallin’ apart. I remember — before we’d figured out how to close the gate — I’d gotten bombed out of a building and my body was thrown a few stories down onto a car. A piece of metal cut left a gash down my left side … here. But that’s gone too. Like it never happened.”
There’s suddenly a moment when Steve realizes what he’s admitted: that the serum is working again. Tony’s probably put it together by now, but the serum isn’t the point of him saying these things, and he doesn’t want it to be, so after a brief hesitation, Steve just keeps going.
“Five days ago, I was shot in the stomach, trying to save the girl from INFRARED who had no business being dragged onto that stage for show and tell. But that scar … and the one from the shot I took to the back, they’re both gone too.
“I’m not complaining, because the serum gave me a chance that every kid wants growin’ up: the opportunity to make a difference for his country. But Tony, your scars — they don’t make you look awful. Seeing you with so many of ‘em? It doesn’t scare me. It just reminds me how much you’ve had to go through, and that despite everything people have thrown at you, you refuse to give in, or give up. It makes you look stronger than I ever will.”
Steve gives him a small, comforting grin.
“I gotta be honest. I probably look like the kinda guy who goes to the gym every morning, but isn’t ever willing to risk his life — or his perfect skin — to protect what really matters. But you … I see you and I …”
no subject
It takes Steve a moment of silence before he realizes — it’s not that Tony thinks Steve would be afraid of him. No, Tony’s worried that his scars, the reactor, his past, all of that would scare Steve away. Suddenly, the lack of eye contact suddenly makes a lot more sense.
Steve pulls back, his movements soft as he slips his hand back around Tony’s cheek and gently guides him to make eye contact again.
“Can I show you something?”
Being a guy gives Tony an unfair advantage in this situation. Steve grew up at a time in which close friendships between men was something to be cherished, and while he’d never had his feelings extend past friendship in those situations, he’s still used to things like seeing other men with their shirts off and being comfortable with that. But if Tony had been a dame? Steve would’ve never asked her to take off her shirt. Never in a million years. He also wouldn’t be comfortable taking off his own shirt in front of her. Like he’s about to do.
Once Tony nods, Steve unzips the top of his GREEN jumpsuit, revealing the same cotton shirt he’d had on when he’d been shot five days ago, and his arms cross over his chest and his fingers tug the corners of his shirt up until Steve can lift the fabric over his head.
And yeah, by all ways of measuring it, Steve’s body looks picture perfect.
“When I was little, I got into a fight with a kid at school. He’d been throwin’ rocks at another boy on the playground. Said it was cause his family was Italian and so they didn’t belong in America. I didn’t think it was right so I stepped in. Got hit by a rock so sharp … right here … that my Ma had to take me to the hospital just to make sure I’d be alright.”
But when Steve says right here and points to spot on his side, there’s nothing there except perfect skin.
“After I got the serum, that scar disappeared. Gone like nothin’ ever happened.” Steve pauses, eyes glancing out into the distance for a second before he looks at Tony again. He hadn’t thought about that memory for years.
“Back in New York, when we were fighting the Chitauri, I got scraped and cut so many times I lost count. My uniform afterwards, you saw, it was fallin’ apart. I remember — before we’d figured out how to close the gate — I’d gotten bombed out of a building and my body was thrown a few stories down onto a car. A piece of metal cut left a gash down my left side … here. But that’s gone too. Like it never happened.”
There’s suddenly a moment when Steve realizes what he’s admitted: that the serum is working again. Tony’s probably put it together by now, but the serum isn’t the point of him saying these things, and he doesn’t want it to be, so after a brief hesitation, Steve just keeps going.
“Five days ago, I was shot in the stomach, trying to save the girl from INFRARED who had no business being dragged onto that stage for show and tell. But that scar … and the one from the shot I took to the back, they’re both gone too.
“I’m not complaining, because the serum gave me a chance that every kid wants growin’ up: the opportunity to make a difference for his country. But Tony, your scars — they don’t make you look awful. Seeing you with so many of ‘em? It doesn’t scare me. It just reminds me how much you’ve had to go through, and that despite everything people have thrown at you, you refuse to give in, or give up. It makes you look stronger than I ever will.”
Steve gives him a small, comforting grin.
“I gotta be honest. I probably look like the kinda guy who goes to the gym every morning, but isn’t ever willing to risk his life — or his perfect skin — to protect what really matters. But you … I see you and I …”
What could he say, except the truth?
“Tony, you blow me away.”