3. Crime and Punishment

The alarm to assemble blasted through the air with unusual force, nearly throwing Phil off his feet as he wrestled with Clint in the boxing ring. Natasha was already out of the door before Phil and Clint managed to clear the ropes, everyone running flat out. Over the howling noise of the alarm, Jarvis announced an emergency in Tony's workshop.

"Armory!" Phil yelled at Clint, who swooped off to grab his weapons. Natasha changed course using an actual goddamn ballet move to follow while Phil barreled on, grateful that he had grabbed his side arm from his duffle when they scrambled. He knew Natasha and Clint were armed with knives, because they always were, but Jarvis was keeping the alarm going at full volume and the idea that Jarvis was worried bothered Phil like nothing else.

He skidded into the workshop and drew his weapon…on Captain America. Phil's instinct was to lower his gun but Tony was bloodied up, one gauntlet on his shaking arm and pointed at Steve, who was advancing on Tony despite the active repulsor, looking murderous.

"Stand down, Captain Rogers!" Phil snapped.

"Oh shit. Agent, get out!" Tony yelled, blood dripping down from his nose and mouth.

To Phil's shock, Steve didn't stop. He grabbed the gauntlet before Tony could fire and crushed it, breaking Tony's fingers in the process if the screaming was any indication.

"He's lost it, sir. Permission to take him down. Tranqs." Clint clipped beside him, his bow drawn lightly due to the short distance.

"Take it." Phil snapped the words. The arrow flew through the air and Steve heard it, turning towards them in surprise. It struck in a pectoral, and Steve stared it for a second before dropping like a stone.

Clint cringed. "Sorry, sir, they're Hulk tranqs. Kinda strong."

Phil nodded. While that level of drugs would kill anyone else, it would only keep Steve down slightly longer than the Hulk himself, which wasn't actually very long. Phil yanked the arrow out, knowing the shallow wound would heal quickly. He looked over to where Natasha was helping Tony, who was almost delirious with pain and cradling his arm. Clint was calling for a med team from the medical wing of the tower when Bruce finally made it in.

"Jarvis kept me out," Bruce said, furious but not green. "What is going on—shit, Tony!" Bruce landed on his knees by Tony, who finally held out his arm. Bruce started giving short, angry instructions to Natasha to bring him tools to cut the gauntlet off. Phil stood behind him, judging Tony's lucidity.

"Sor-sor-sorry, Agent. Didn't mean…to piss off your boyfriend," Tony chittered through the blood, his words slurring. "Never. Never again. Swear." Tony nodded as Natasha wrapped him in a thermal blanket to ward off shock, concern written on her face. Tony nodded at her and then passed out, Natasha and Bruce following him down, Bruce cursing as he peeled pieces of the suit's hand off Tony's damaged fingers.

Phil stepped back slowly. He knew his relationship with Steve was no secret from the team, despite Steve's almost paranoid worry that they would find out and his insistence on keeping it a secret. Phil had not been happy about that but it wasn't as if he had not lived deep in the closet during his time in the Rangers, in an era when even "don't ask, don't tell" was considered progressive. He understood the fear, and given that Steve was actually born in 1918 and not 1988, Phil had decided to let things unfold naturally for the younger, if misplaced in time, man. Tony's words sent a chill down his spine.

"Jarvis, I want the recordings of this event locked down to Tony, me, and Director Fury only." Phil announced. Clint, squatting by Steve to keep an eye on him, looked up with worry, but Phil gave him a quick shake of his head.

"I can do as you request, Agent Coulson."

Phil let out a breath. He wasn't too sure exactly what parameters Tony had given Jarvis, so requests like that were always a crap shoot. He let his team do their jobs as the medicos hustled out, Bruce walking along with the gurney while still dismantling the gauntlet. Natasha turned and went to where Clint was crouched over Steve.

"Sir?" Clint looked over at him. Phil saw Steve twitch a leg, the tranquilizers already wearing off.

"Get out." Phil un-chambered the live round in his gun, pulled out the cartridge and set the safety before placing it on a workbench where it got lost among piles of junk. He looked over at Natasha and Clint, who had both stood up and were glaring at him, unmoving.

"He was unhinged, Phil. You saw how much damage he did to Stark," Clint said, clutching his bow.

"He could be possessed, or brainwashed," Natasha added grimly.

Phil knew that was possible, but also that it wasn't true. He suspected he knew exactly what had happened. "That's an order, Agents. Out. Now."

Loyal if unhappy, they trudged out slowly, acting more like school kids than Avengers (Phil had to admit he sometimes felt like more like a principal than a liaison). When they were gone, Phil had Jarvis lock the doors behind them and play the recording.

"Hey, Tony. You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. Working on some adjustments here, could use a live target." Goggled and distracted, Tony waved his gauntleted hand at Steve.

"And here I thought you wanted me for my mind." Steve smiled.

"Was that innuendo? That was innuendo! Oh, my little boy, all grown up!" Tony snarked, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Where do you want me?" Steve asked, and Phil could tell that he had not realized the double entendre until Tony laughed.

"No no no, I'm not going there, because your boyfriend will take my balls."

"What?" Steve stilled. Tony kept futzing with his gauntlet, completely missing Steve's defensive posture.

Phil braced himself for what he suspected was coming next. Steve knew that Tony knew about them, but it was another thing entirely to bring it up in casual conversation. Phil honestly wondered if Tony actually had any natural survival instincts, outside of his intelligence. He doubted it.

"Or would you take his? I'm not sure how that works. You put him into position, don't you? He's probably so happy to bend over and take it from—" To his credit, Tony stopped there when he saw Steve's face. "Uh, just joking there, Cap."

"Don't talk about him like that." Steve's voice had dropped and even in the recording, which was from an awkward angle via a camera up high in the walls, Phil could see that Steve was livid.

"I won't." Tony raised his hands. "I won't, Steve. Whatever you two do together, that's all you."

"He's a man, a good man, and you don't get to disparage him that way," Steve continued, stepping up in a posture that was pure challenge.

Tony eased away from him, finally realizing the danger he was in. "No offense meant. Hey, every guy worth his salt likes it up the ass, right? Me and Pep—" Tony never finished speaking, because Steve decked him.

Phil flinched, surprised that Tony's jaw had not shattered, and it said something to Steve's own sense of control that he had pulled the punch that far. The alarm overrode their words at that point, Jarvis asking for help in the only way he knew how.

The fight was brutal and short, and while Steve clearly wasn't out to kill Tony, it was pretty clear to Phil that if Tony had not had the gauntlet on, with the repulsor in working order, he would have ended up a lot more damaged because Steve was fighting with intent. In classic Captain America style, he was out to prove a point and teach Tony Stark a lesson. Phil grimaced as the blood started splattering.

Steve groaned next to him, and Phil asked Jarvis to cut the recording. He knew how it ended, he thought with sour humor.

Rolling onto his side, Steve flopped around for a second as the drugs wore off, then fell onto his back again, blinking at the ceiling. He smacked his lips and worked his jaw. "Did Barton tranq me?"

"He did." Phil nodded.

Steve was quiet for a long time. "Is Tony okay?"

"No. He's probably going to need some dental work, and you broke at least two of his fingers."

"Shit."

Despite his wholesome reputation, Steve Rogers cursed regularly, but usually within the confines of appropriate context. That he was letting loose with the expletives meant he had some awareness of just how badly he had fucked up.

"Jarvis showed me the recording of what happened. It's locked down, no one else but Tony and Fury can view it, but you should know that I saw what happened."

"So you heard what he said," Steve answered, sounding angry again. "What he said about you."

"You really think what he said was any excuse to attack him?"

Steve stayed still and quiet for a while. "I don't back down from a fight, Phil. I never have, not even when I was 110 pounds soaking wet."

"That wasn't a fight. That was you, for lack of a better term, hulking out."

Steve frowned. "You heard what he said."

"Absolutely no excuse whatsoever. He could call me your girly bitch for all I care; that was unjustified. You were a grade school bully."

Steve blanched. "Don't say that."

"Girly bitch? Or that you were being a bully?"

Steve sat up quickly. "Stop it. You're not."

Phil sighed. The problem was even worse than he thought. "No, I'm not, but it wouldn't matter if I was."

Steve's anger was back, but he sat still, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. "Yeah, because I am, right? That's me." He dropped his head onto his knees.

Phil sighed, then scooted closer. They were facing opposite directions but their shoulders were touching, mostly because Steve was slumped over. "I have never, not once, thought that you are a lesser man because you let me make love to you. There are those who would, I'm not going to deny that, but Tony Stark isn't one of them. You took down a team member, a friend, and hurt him very badly because of your own insecurities."

"He made it…demeaning."

"Actually, no he didn't. He was making a joke, a tasteless and rude joke but he wasn't insulting my honor. You heard him making fun of me, thinking that I like it up the ass. And in fact, I do like it up the ass, but really? That's not the point. The point is that you think it makes you less than a man because you like it up the ass."

Steve huffed out a breath. "Could you please stop saying that?"

"How about, 'you like to get fucked within an inch of your life like a good pillow biter'?" Phil snapped.

Steve bounced up and walked away, stopping cold and staring at the floor. Phil glanced at what had caught his attention, and saw a puddle of Tony's blood congealing.

"Believe me, I'm not trying to anger you, Steve. But you have got to get over this. I can't allow this to happen again. You've critically damaged the team; we're down an Avenger for however long it takes for Tony's bones to knit, due to your internalized homophobia." Phil stood up, feeling old and tired. "I'd break up with you right here and now if I thought it would mean you would never do this again."

Steve spun around, wide eyed. "No." He stepped forward, one hand out. "Beloved—"

Phil put both of his hands up, and Steve's hand dropped. Phil sighed. "I'm not breaking up with you because that would not solve this, would it?"

"It will never happen again. I swear to you," Steve said, his jaw set in Captain America mode. Phil believed him, but he also knew this went far deeper than Steve wanted to admit.

"Fury is getting a full and accurate report of what happened here. I'm not a betting man, but I'll lay good odds that he's going to require you to get help before clearing you for the field. We should have kept you in therapy since you came out of the ice; I'm not sure why I thought the transition to the modern world would go smoothly."

Steve looked shattered. Phil really wanted to hold him, to put his Stevie on his knees and comfort him, but the stakes were too high. They stared at each other for a moment before Steve closed up, his shoulders squaring.

"I'll turn myself in."

Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself because he should have expected it. "Jarvis, let Barton and Romanoff back in." He knew they were sitting outside, pissed off about not being allowed to protect him. The door opened immediately and they walked in. Steve refused to look at them.

"Barton, Captain Rogers is relieved of command of the Avengers until further notice. Please take him into custody." Phil waved a hand at Steve.

To his credit, Clint only gave Phil a short double take before walking over to Steve and rattling off the SHIELD version of "you're under arrest." He did not even try to restrain or cuff Steve, since they all knew that would be pointless.

Natasha stood next to Phil supportively as Steve marched out, Clint at his elbow.

"What is going on?"

"Tony opened his fucking mouth," Phil said, and Natasha snorted.

"I knew that. I mean with Rogers."

"He took it personally." He turned to her. "Go, get with Pepper, and keep this under wraps. If this shows up online or in any news reports, I'm throwing all of you in the brig of the helicarrier. Indefinitely."

He'd done it before, and she knew he'd do it again. She peeled out of the room, talking quickly and in Russian with Jarvis.

The rest of Phil's afternoon was spent trying to keep the Avengers from fracturing as a team while convincing Fury that everything was 100% under control. He was only marginally successful in both cases.

Steve was under house arrest and told to stay put by one very pissed off Agent Barton, who parked himself in Steve's quarters to keep an eye on him. Everyone was furious with Steve and since neither he nor Phil was explaining what had happened in the fight and Tony was in surgery, Phil suspected things were not going to be an easy clean up.

Steve was completely mute on the issue, giving Fury one word answers and refusing to look him directly in the eyes.

That night, Phil showed up and chased Clint out of Steve's apartment. Steve was sitting in the living room, staring at the wall. Phil sighed and sat down across from him. "Captain Rogers."

Steve nodded to show he was listening, but still wouldn't look at Phil.

"You're going to stay under house arrest until we get this situation sorted out. Tomorrow you start mandatory psych sessions, which will probably be ongoing daily depending on their recommendations. You'll also be seeing a specialist in anger management issues. Dr. Banner has, unsurprisingly, volunteered to work with you in that area."

"He's willing to see me?" Steve asked, his voice and inflection flat.

"He's mad at you, everyone is, but I think if you can count on one ally in this matter it's him."

Steve nodded once.

"Stevie."

Steve's eyes flickered over at him.

"Stevie, listen to me. Things have to be different for us for a little while. I can't stay here and you can't come to me. We—"

"You're punishing me." Steve's posture locked up even tighter.

"Do you want me to?"

Steve blinked and looked at him, surprise overtaking his stoicism.

"Because I don't want to. Not for this. It would not be fun for either of us, even if it was cathartic."

Steve's nostrils flared but he kept his mouth shut.

"You really want me to punish you, don't you?" Phil shook his head. "Would that help you apologize to Tony? Would it help you be Captain America again?"

"This isn't about Captain America," Stevie said, his jaw clinching over the words. "You're always blurring the lines, pushing me. I don't even know what you want."

It was Phil's turn to sit in silence for a moment. "I love you. That's all."

Steve frowned, anger flickering over his features. "Me, or Captain America? I don't know. I thought I knew. But that…what we do, that can't be a part of who I am as Captain America. You act as if it doesn't matter, but it does. Captain America is no one's boy."

"And this is only part of our problem, here." Phil rubbed his face, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked up at Stevie. "You know you will have to tell your therapist about our relationship. And about your history as a gay man prior to the serum."

Stevie's face went tight again. He shook his head.

"Damnit, don't make this more difficult for everyone. The problem here is straight out of your past, and our relationship. You will be talking to your therapist about it."

"Is that an order, sir?" Steve looked forward blankly, his hands on his knees, his back ram-rod straight.

"You're really pushing it, Stevie." Phil sat up and crossed his arms. "You don't like bullies, that is your classic line, in every comic book ever printed and every movie ever made about you. You don't like bullies. You fight against bullies you—" Phil stopped as the penny dropped. "You punish them."

Stevie flushed bright red, his eyes flicking around uncertainly but his voice was firm. "I stop them."

"So were you punishing Stark, or stopping him?"

"I…" Stevie's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"And if I punish you, would that stop you?"

Steve opened his mouth again, but didn't answer. Finally, he dropped his head, although his body stayed taught. "Maybe."

Phil took a deep breath. "I'm not going to punish you for that, Stevie."

Stevie's shoulders slumped with disappointment.

"It's not my job to mandate your moral compass. I think you know you over-reacted to Tony's comments, and I think you know you need to deal with your internalized homophobia. You're too smart to play innocent, here."

Stevie nodded once, eyes glued to the floor in front of him.

"What I think you want from me is reassurance."

Stevie looked up at him in surprise. "I do?"

"The only reaction I got from you downstairs was when I threatened to break up with you."

Stevie let out a long, slow breath. "Please," he asked, stopping there as realization dawned on him. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I lost my temper. I hated what he said about you, talking like you were less than a man because you were with me. It felt like a threat and I reacted accordingly and then you showed up, telling me I was in the wrong. It felt like I was losing everything; and now you see me for the fraud I've always been, and I…I understand if you don't want to deal with this anymore. I'm sorry."

Phil felt his head tipping, as if changing the angle of his brain would make the words make sense. "You're not a fraud."

"I'm a fag who pretends to be Captain America. I'm an asthmatic wimp with an attitude problem who somehow convinced better men than me to take a chance by giving me the serum. They think it worked, everyone thinks it worked, but it didn't really change me. I just look different, last longer in a fight, and heal faster. I went AWOL to bring Bucky back not because it was the American thing to do but because I was in love with him." He never looked up. "I hit Tony because I'm in love with you. I'm always the lesser man, I always will be."

Phil sat still, the electricity of shock keeping him in the chair. They were quiet for a long time, and Phil's brain stuttered through a thousand responses until Stevie moved to get up.

"On your knees," Phil snapped, surprising both of them.

Stevie looked up at him uncertainly, caught halfway to standing, but he saw enough on Phil's face to lower himself to the floor, resting on his knees. He looked terribly young with the complex expression of hope and worry on his face, and Phil's heart broke again.

"Come to me, Stevie." Phil held out one hand but did nothing more to entice Steve to cross the room.

Looking more and more confused, Stevie did as he was told, crawling over on all fours. When he got to Phil's feet, Phil pushed him back to sit on his heels, holding Stevie's chin. "I don't think you are a fraud. You've kept your sexuality a secret your entire life, I understand that, but let me tell you that everyone knows you went after Bucky because you loved him. Maybe they don't know the depth of that love, but we all know it." He let his thumb stroke over Stevie's full lips. "There is nothing about you that isn't true. I love you, all of you: Steve Rogers, Stevie, Captain America. All of you, strong and weak, your whole history."

Stevie had gone stoic in his hands. Phil leaned over and kissed his forehead. "You've disappointed me, Stevie."

Stevie closed his eyes, trying to repress a shudder. "I'm sorry—"

"Shhh. You've disappointed me, but I think you've also disappointed yourself. There will be repercussions. Therapy and apologies and a serious discussion with your team about this whole situation. You've got a lot to face up to."

Steve's jaw worked and Phil felt a slight tremor but Stevie kept his eyes closed. "I'm so sorry."

"I will be there, if you want me. I will stand beside you and protect you as best I can because you are mine, Stevie, and I love you." He took Stevie's face in both of his hands. "But you need to know how much I care, how important this is to me, how badly this affects us."

Stevie tried to pull back in alarm, but stopped at Phil's firm hold of his face.

"So I think it might help, now, for me to punish you. Not for attacking Tony, not for being gay, not for being a fraud; I'm punishing you for disappointing me, because I don't think you can move forward until you know how much I care."

Stevie swallowed, his eyes drifting up to lock on Phil's face.

"This isn't absolution. This isn't the solution to your problems. My boy did something terrible, and I need you to know how much that upsets me because, honestly, I can't walk away from you." He kissed Stevie's forehead again. "Unbuckle your pants and shove them down your legs, Stevie." Phil's brain clicked through trying to figure out how to make this work while Stevie quickly shucked his trousers down. Shrugging mentally, deciding that Stevie would just have to compensate, Phil patted his lap. "I want your ass here."

Steve blinked at him for a moment before moving uncertainly to drape himself over Phil's lap. As always, the size difference between them made for an interesting tableau, and Stevie was not resting on Phil's thighs so much as holding himself up on his hands and lower legs. Phil set his feet firmly on the ground and without any warning slammed his bare hand down on Steve's ass.

Stevie gasped. The super solider serum had not dulled his pain receptors at all; he recovered quickly from injuries but felt them as much as anyone else did. There was no hope of bruising him but Phil knew that Stevie would remember this anyway. He set his other arm across Stevie's shoulders, anchoring him in place, and then smacked him again on the other cheek. Steve grunted a little but his head dipped down and he did not move after that.

Phil swung his arm like a baseball bat, over and over, slapping at Stevie's ass until it actually went red under the assault. After the 18th spank Stevie started gasping for air with wet broken noises. Phil's hand went numb after the 30th. After the 42nd, Stevie's arms began shaking. It was also the point where Phil, to his shock, felt Stevie's dick starting to react against his thigh. He stopped at 50 with his hand feeling jarred and tingly and disconnected, and Stevie's ass bright, dark red from where blood vessels had broken under the skin. Steve was sobbing, his body trembling on Phil's lab, but his cock was hard and eager to the point that his hips were giving small thrusts against Phil that he suspected Stevie wasn't even aware of. Phil ran his hands gently down Steve's back.

"So proud of you, baby. So proud. You took your punishment so well, like a man."

Surprise stuttered out of Stevie's mouth. Phil ran a finger gently down the crack of Stevie's ass. "I'm sure you're not going to argue with me."

Stevie shook his head, back to the gasping sobs. Phil slid out of the chair, pushing Stevie ahead of him until they were on the ground. He shoved at Stevie until he turned towards him then pulled him close to his chest. Stevie spilled out of the space between Phil's legs, too large to really be held in his lap but curling in toward him. It was a familiar position, one they often ended up in after sex, but Steve was still heaving through sobs, hiding his face against Phil's chest and gasping "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over, his voice hoarse. Phil suspected that the apology was not for anything they were doing, that it was for anything and everything and nothing.

Phil cooed at him, keeping one arm wrapped around him tightly while Steve crumbled. He let his other hand trail down Stevie's back and his naked and burning hot ass, then over his hip. Stevie's cock was hard and swollen. Phil petted it gently but Stevie flinched, clutching at Phil's jacket.

"No."

Phil moved his hand back to Stevie's hip. "Your punishment is over, Stevie. Do you think you don't deserve to be loved, too?"

"I don't…I don't." Stevie shook his head.

"Hmmm." Phil squeezed his ass and Stevie shuddered. "Did the pain turn you on?"

Stevie took a huge breath but kept his face pressed into Phil's shoulder, his answer barely more a wet, strangled whisper. "A little?"

"Did being punished turn you on?"

Stevie's fists tightened on Phil's jacket again, which was more of an answer than Stevie's tremulous "Maybe?"

Phil sighed. "It didn't turn me on to punish you. Not tonight, at least, but we can explore that some other time. In different circumstances, okay?"

"Okay."

"It does turn me on to pleasure you. I'm not going to press the issue, though. We can stay like this all night if you want." Phil kissed his temple, noticing that Stevie's breathing had finally evened out again. There were a few minutes of quiet, then, with Stevie coming back to himself.

"You'd stay?"

"I'll never leave. I thought you knew that."

"I fucked up."

"Yes, you did. Spectacularly. The paperwork for this is going to be monumental." Phil tried not to think about that too much.

"I'm…I'm not sure I can be Captain America, Phil," Stevie whispered, tucking his face further into Phil's chest.

"I think you are Captain America, like it or not. And you do like it; it is an important part of you. Just like being a homosexual is part of you; just like the way a little bit of pain and punishment turns you on."

Stevie squirmed but didn't pull out of Phil's hold.

"Your discomfort with that is why you're going into therapy."

Stevie leaned in, lifting his head up so his mouth was against Phil's ear. "Touch me."

Surprised, Phil squeezed Stevie's hip. "Should I?"

"Beloved, please, please touch me," Stevie whimpered.

Phil slapped his ass lightly, and decided that he would remember until the day he died the way Stevie actually squealed in reaction. "Still sore?"

"Ugh," Stevie choked, then grabbed a mouthful of Phil's lapel, gnawing on it as his hips gave a little thrust.

"God damnit, you're so beautiful. My Stevie boy," Phil sighed through clinched teeth, finally wrapping his hand around Stevie's dick. Stevie whined, mouthing the lapel with his eyes closed like a baby sucking, and Phil felt the charge of that submission down to his toes. He wrapped his arm around Stevie and hauled him in closer, binding him to his chest, while his other hand moved up and down Stevie's dick in quick, sure motions. Stevie roiled against him, his breath ragged again, sounding as much as if he was trying not to cry as he was trying hard to come. Phil's hand slowly slicked up as pre-cum leaked out of Stevie's dick and soon he set a punishing pace. Stevie let go of him to grab the arms of the chair behind Phil, caging Phil in with his mass but moaning as he kept worrying the suit's lapel with his teeth and pumping his hips up to fuck into Phil's hand. The body heat between them was dizzying, making Phil gasp for fresh air in his lungs.

"Beloved, please, I'm so sorry, I'm so…please, Beloved," Stevie chanted as he gnawed, his arms shaking again with tension. Phil though he heard the wood cracking in Stevie's hands, but he didn't stop, he kept up the punishing pace on Stevie's dick until Stevie was hiccupping his breath. "Beloved!"

"I'm here, Stevie. I'll spank you every day if that's what it takes, damnit, c'mon and come for me. Do it," Phil gasped, his hand cramping. Stevie clutched around him, lifting himself off the floor as he came, the name "Beloved" wrenched from him and the chair's arms splintering in his hands. Phil gasped in relief as the pressure between them dissipated with Stevie's orgasm. Stevie's arms dropped to wrap around Phil's shoulders and he put his forehead against Phil's shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing again.

Phil pushed his hips up. "Move, move."

Stevie shuffled back a fraction, and Phil let go of him to attack his own pants. "Damn. Damn! Oh!" He bit his lower lip as he finally got his own dick out, forgetting about keeping his pants clean in his desperation to stroke himself. He looked over at Stevie who was still effectively wrapped around him, physically sated but staring at him with clear, dark eyes.

"You with me?" Phil asked, pumping himself with both hands.

Stevie leaned forward and kissed him, tenderly and slowly in contrast to how fast and hard Phil was working himself. Phil cursed and gasped into Stevie's soft, worshipful mouth. "Ah, shit. Stevie!" Phil arched back as he came, a short job after a long buildup. He barely crested the top of his orgasm when Stevie pushed into him and toppled them backwards, Stevie shoving the broken chair so hard it slammed into the opposite wall. He climbed on top of Phil and covered him, pressing his face into Phil's chest again. Messy beyond repair, Phil just wrapped his arms around the bulk pressing against him.

The door flew open. "What the hell, I heard a crash—" Barton stood inside the doorway, staring at them. "All good, sir?"

Stevie hunched up, humiliation radiating off of him in waves, his bare ass as much a testament to what they had done as their position. Phil wondered if the spanking marks were still there, or had healed up completely. From the look on Barton's face, he didn't think so. He pulled Stevie down even further until his body was completely pressed down on his. "Present and accounted for, Agent. Stand down."

Barton stepped out again without question, closing the door softly. Phil combed his clean hand through Stevie's hair. "He knew already."

"I can't take this," Stevie sighed, his voice laced with anger and hopelessness.

"You can, and you will. With me. You'll apologize to Stark, to the team, and get help. I'll be here every day. I love you." Phil kissed his temple. "But, unfortunately, I can't breathe."

"Oh!" Stevie rolled off of him then hissed when his ass hit the carpet. He looked over at Phil, blinking. "Oh."

Phil, sprawled on the floor with his dick hanging out and his suit jacket lapel gnawed, literally, to ribbons, just smirked. Stevie blushed and looked down at himself. Phil waved him back and Stevie settled next to him, curled up against his side, acting as if he were small and delicate instead of overpowering. It hit home for Phil just how much of Steve Rogers' life existed as a study in contrasts: straight but gay, huge but small, a hero but also a scared young man.

Phil suspected that putting all pieces together so that they fit was going to take a team effort. He hoped that Stark didn't pull out of the Avengers over the incident, even if Phil couldn't blame him for doing so; although Steve would probably resign before letting Stark take that step. Phil was even less sure of where that would put him, in regards to SHIELD and the Avengers and his whole life outside of Steve, but Phil was going to be damned before he let the man he loved rip himself apart without doing everything he could to hold him together.

Steve stirred and roused himself. "Still here?"

"Always, Stevie boy." Phil pushed his head back down and held his precious gift closer, soothing him down until Stevie fell asleep there on the floor, guarded by his Beloved.