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It couldn't be happening. Not really. After working in his office all morning, the droning television a mindless background noise, he hadn't been prepared for his attention to be almost physically torn from the project proposals spread in front of him to something that threatened to tear down one of the foundations of his life. Tony watched the perky blonde on the television screen reading her news bulletin, all fake smile and peroxide blonde and feigned shock and interest nearly hiding the predatory glint in her eyes, and felt like puking. Realizing his hands had curled almost painfully into the arms of his overstuffed leather chair, he took a long, deep breath, counted to ten, felt his nausea recede, and stood up.
After all the recent problems, he'd been so close to telling Steve the truth. After Happy had been hurt, and then kidnapped, the temptation had been there, but he'd fought it. Tony managed to convince himself that it was an unnecessary risk, that letting anyone else know who he really was would only further increase the dangers. The little voice in his head that pointed out that of all people, Steve would understand those dangers and be able to handle them, was pointedly ignored. The desire had been harder to overlook. He wanted desperately to tell Steve who he was, but lately there was just too much potential for... damage. And now this.
He'd heard Steve enter the other room a few minutes ago, right around the time the reporters started repeating themselves, but he'd been unable to pull himself away from the screen. Old newsreel footage, grainy photographs, wartime posters of Captain America, all had been flashed across the screen, interspersed with recent footage from the Avengers' fights, reporters' voices crowding over the top of it all like the piranhas they tried so hard to pretend that they weren't... All of it had conspired to draw Tony in, fascination nearly drowning out the shocked horror that he felt. He'd been almost amused to realize that at least half of the images being featured were currently in his possession.
Tony had never actually told Steve about his collection of Captain America memorabilia. For some reason, it embarrassed him. It was one thing to have the worst case of hero worship he'd ever seen when it was directed at a legendary hero, a semi-mythical icon shrouded in tragic mystery. It was something altogether different to look said icon in the eyes and tell him that, especially once he'd gotten to know Steve as a person, rather than just the icon. There was no way he could look that man -- his best friend -- in the eyes and actually admit his lifelong hero worship, let alone the fact that it had grown into something completely different over the past few years.
Tony wasn't naive enough to think that Steve was a blushing virgin. The man had fought in World War II, injured and killed people, rescued victims, been showered with praise and love and lust... he'd worked with Nick Fury, for God's sake. He was about as pure as Tony was -- which was to say, not at all. And yet... and yet. Something about Steve, his eternally optimistic outlook, or maybe just the barely-hidden shock in his eyes at the fast and loose ways of the modern world, kept Tony from even thinking of telling Steve how he felt. For that matter, the 1940s hadn't exactly been accepting of anyone out of the norm and although Tony knew that Cap was anything but close-minded, he just couldn't quite see Steve Rogers being happy to know that his teammate -- his friend -- was hopelessly in love with him.
Especially not when Tony couldn't seem to be honest with him about the most important thing in his life.
And now, still staring at the television as it announced, for probably the fiftieth time now, that Captain America -- Steve Rogers -- was retiring... all Tony could think of was what a coward he was. The last few years had been the best years of his life, and it was entirely due to Steve -- who would never know that. Because Tony was too scared of telling him the truth and losing his friendship.
With a sigh, Tony forced himself to turn away from the television screen. He cold hear Steve talking to someone in the other room -- presumably tailors, from the instructions he was giving them -- and although normally Tony would have smiled to hear that happy, excited tone in Steve's voice, at the moment it was agonizing. And he couldn't let Steve know that. There was too much chance of other things slipping out, too, if he did.
He couldn't put it off any longer. It would be bad enough to do this with witnesses, especially strangers, but if he had to face Steve alone... Enough. He straightened, pasting a casual smile on his face, and opened the door.