Word Count: 1,282
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Summary: Tony's working in his garage when Steve drops by for a visit.
Notes: Birthday present for schomperilla ! ♥ Happy birthday bb!
There are few things that distract Tony Stark quite like wires and steel, open before him like a puzzle that needs solving. It can be argued that restoring one classic car in just like restoring another, but it would have to be an argument made with someone lacking the creative streak that powers Stark Industries. Tony is happy where he is, shut away in his garage, avoiding real work by lying on his back beneath the body of his latest project. There is no such thing as having too many customised sports cars. Especially not when you’re Tony Stark.
He’s lying there, puzzling over speed versus handling when he hears the door sliding open.
“Pepper?” Tony only slides halfway out, his mind still filled with algorithms and risk assessment scenarios. “I thought I’d locked the door. Computer, check—”
“It’s me,” a voice replies, distinctly not Pepper. “You gave me an access code for your garage and I was told that you weren’t in your office, so…”
“Steve.” Tony slides completely out from under his car, pushing his goggles up to perch on his head. He gets up, wiping his hands on his pants and offering the cleaner one for a shake.
Steve takes it, and he doesn’t even seem to take notice of the engine oil while Tony inwardly cringes, hating that he’s dressed in a worn tank and old jeans, covered in grime when Steve is here, wearing his military jacket with an ease that only comes from being a soldier.
There are several positives to befriending your childhood hero, Tony is sure, but he’s still getting over the awkwardness, the way that Steve’s smile makes him feel like a teenager all over again.
“I’m sorry, you look busy. I should probably—”
“No,” Tony interrupts, shaking his head. “No, no. I told you, any time you wanted a bit of company… well, I gave you the access code to get down here for a reason, didn’t I?”
Steve smiles again. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Is there anything I can help you with? It’s the least I can do.”
“Well, if you want. You’ll have to be careful though, because your jacket…” Tony trails off, Steve already shrugging his jacket off and leaving it on the table, unbuttoning his shirt so he’s down to the tight, white t-shirt he has on underneath.
Tony swallows hard, dragging his eyes away. “Right. This way, then. I’m fitting a V8 engine into this baby.”
Steve raises his eyebrows, looking lost. Tony sighs, scratching his head.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
With an apologetic smile, Steve shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Would you prefer if I just got out of your way?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, come here,” Tony waves him over as he walks to an empty bench, a bit further away from the cars. “If you don’t know, then there’s one obvious solution: I’m going to teach you.”
Steve looks doubtfully at the bits and pieces Tony collects, placing them on the table along with his simplest tool set.
“Look, this is just child’s play. Literally. I’ve had this set since I was a kid. Since the time I built my first engine.”
“I’m going to go ahead and guess that you were still in single digits when that happened,” Steve says, and he’s got a smile, like he’s proud of Tony’s achievements from way back then. It warms Tony’s chest and he looks down at the coils of wire on the bench, furiously reminding himself that he’s too damn old for hero worship now.
“Come on Cap, I’ll go easy on you. Not everyone’s a genius.”
To his credit, Steve does his best to learn whatever Tony has to teach. Considering the substantial gaps in Steve’s understanding of modern technology, he does better than Tony expects, even if it isn’t by very much.
“Okay, so you can’t build things from scratch. We’ll try this instead.” Tony pops the hood of one of his less-used cars, rubbing his hands in anticipation when he looks down at its insides. “I’ll teach you what the different parts are, and what they do.”
Steve has better luck with this, but it’s not even about teaching him anything any more. He laughs with open delight whenever Tony cracks a joke, and he’s far more relaxed now, in just his undershirt and slacks, than he was when he’d first come into the garage.
“Alright, we’ll leave the machines to me,” Tony decides with a grin. “At least we can rely on you when we need charisma.”
Steve laughs, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. They’ve both been spattered with oil now and Steve’s efforts only end up spreading the dark smudge even more. Tony’s own laughter is a little breathy; seeing Steve getting physical and dirty with a car engine apparently does things to him that he probably should have expected, all things considered.
There’s no way Tony can deny how attractive Steve is now, with his muscles bulging from under is t-shirt, wrench still held loosely in one hand. He’s surrounded by machine parts and yeah, okay, it’s Tony’s two favourite teenage jerk-off fantasies rolled into one. Turns out that he’s not too old to find it devastatingly sexy.
Except this isn’t just his imagination and Steve is really here, giving Tony a concerned frown. He looks like he’s about to ask if Tony’s okay, and really, there’s no possible polite way to say, yes I’m fine, it’s just that I have weak impulse control at the best of times and you’re making it worse by existing.
His brain is already running as fast as it can to process all the possible scenarios, trying to find the one that ends without him making a complete idiot of himself. Except then, Steve is stepping forward, hands on Tony’s shoulders, and he’s asking that damn question.
“Tony, are you—”
Steve doesn’t finish, because Tony doesn’t let him. He leans forwards, pressing their lips together and Steve immediately goes still and silent.
Fucking fuck, this is one of the scenarios he’d already discarded. Tony’s immediately pulling back, trying to break the kiss, but Steve’s hands are still on his shoulders, holding him in place. When Steve kisses back, it takes Tony a long moment to realise that he’s not just imagining things.
They exhale slowly and quietly, drawing back just far enough to look at each other. Then they’re kissing again, one of Steve’s hands holding the back of Tony’s head. Tony rests his hands on Steve’s waist, his mind reeling.
He can’t believe this—he’s standing in his garage, making out with Captain America. His younger self would be passed out with bliss.
“Tony,” Steve murmurs, pulling away, the taste of his mouth still strong on Tony’s tongue. Steve’s lips are glistening and he licks them absently and before Tony can panic, he asks with a shy grin, “Do you think that maybe we could go out for dinner?”
Tony laughs, not only because he’s here despairing about his lack of self control while Steve is concerned about being a proper gentleman, but because there’s a look in Steve’s eyes; something soft and warm and affectionate that says that he truly wants this too. Tony wonders if he’s ever going to stop grinning.
“Dinner,” he agrees, like it’s just the most casual thing in the world to be agreeing to a date with Steve Rogers. “Yeah. Sounds good. I know a place.”
And with that, he’s pressing into Steve’s space once again, claiming another, deeper kiss.
Steve slides his arms around Tony and kisses him back, only too happy to oblige.