The problem with Tony Stark is that he just wants to be good enough.

He could have picked any profession. Doctor. Teacher. Stock broker. Lawyer—he would have been one hell of a lawyer. Steve's certain. But he went with physics. Because his dad was in physics, and it was a connection Tony was seeking to make. Something in common with Dad. Who, Steve had learned, was not the same cool, joking guy to Tony that he had been to Steve.

So Tony, to be close to his dad had chosen physics. His little kid brain had picked the thing most likely to connect him to his father and ensure that they have something in common.

For the same reason, brilliant young Tony went to MIT to follow, again, in his father's footsteps. A good four years earlier than his father, which may have been part of the cause of the rift: Howard's son so much smarter than Howard. Maybe that's why he stayed aloof. So as not to be overly-impressed with his son's achievements. So he could hold something over his son's head. And if it couldn't be knowledge, then it may as well be affection. Because what else did Howard have to lord over his son. His son that didn't care about the brain-power. His son who only wanted an authentic 'Well done.' His son who only wanted to be loved.

Steve saw it in every gesture. Every play for power. The same motivations fuelled Tony as Howard. They wanted general approval and for people to rely on them and find them trustworthy.

It was why Tony took over the business. What else was there to do save improve upon what Howard had left Tony, keep the legacy alive, and do his father's name proud. Hence the Jericho. Hence Tony's goings on about big sticks and showing power. Just a small boy with a lot of bluster to show he wasn't afraid and he wanted attention.

It made Steve want to hold him close and reassure him he was worth every dollar to his name and much more. Tony was worth every compliment he never got and every look of admiration from a room full of people and every kind gesture done to him (which were far too few, requiring Steve to pick up the slack).

It was why he decided to quit the weapons business, Steve decided when he'd been told about the event later. Partly, he was sure, because it was certainly galling to be mortally injured by your own creations. (Though that hadn't stopped it from happening again in the future...) But Pepper had told him about Tony's decision and how it was 'right.' And in the modern society, they certainly needed more love and less ways to kill one another. Steve had been told that was very hippy of him. He had to look up the reference.

But Tony knew what was right and what was wrong. And weapons production was wrong. So the decision to halt weapons production and move on to worthier pursuits. Like that renewable energy Tony was always going on about. And the cell phones. It wasn't lame or overdone. Tony's devices were always elegant and well-thought out. He put effort into them, and they were the best on the market. Steve always had a signal.

It was why he decided to join the Avengers. To prove that he could to it all. He could run a company, be a secret super hero, a full time inventor, and work for SHIELD all at the same time. And he would do it pretty darn well. Except for maybe Stark Industries. Because no matter what, it seemed like Pepper always ran more of Stark Industries than Tony did. He just threw money and ideas at it until it went away. But being a part of the Avengers meant he got to prove that Iron Man: Yes; Tony Stark: No; could be changed. And he was good at it. He worked well with the team, helped everyone out in his spare time. Clint's new bow. Natasha's knives. Tony always tried his best, and it warmed Steve's heart when Clint had thanked him profusely, awed by the improvements.

But Tony still tried. And sometimes took it twice as hard when he failed. Even though they all failed at one time or another. But Tony, of course, held himself to his own ridiculous standards. They were such fluid things. For Tony.

He shook his head, watching Tony from across the room during the movie. Tony had snuck in late, sprawling himself across the empty end of the couch. Perfect for viewing while the movie—something about people in prison—while not seeming like it. He couldn't help the small smile on his lips though.

Tony did so much. He made so much happen. Like the damage. Whenever there were fights, damage was paid for by the Maria Stark Foundation. Tony's mom's charity. And when he'd found out how much Tony secretly gave away, via the MSF, his jaw had dropped. Tony played a mean stock market game. And he probably played hard and fierce in order for the MSF to have those kinds of funds. Tony gave away lots of money. So much that Steve felt uncomfortable even comprehending it. And he'd spent a lot of time around Tony and Tony's wealth. So when the amounts of money Steve was talking about were obscene in comparison to what Tony spent on his cars, his liquor, and his technology? Then the average person might come up with several numbers that could be considered high enough.

So with what he couldn't give with his time, effort, power, smarts, opinion, and name, he gave with money. And when he couldn't do that, he gave it anonymously.

"Did you catch any of the movie?" Tony asked when Steve had cuddled into Tony's bed with him.

"What?"

"You spent the whole time watching me. I was going to start feeling self-conscious," he joked quietly, leaning into Steve's embrace.

Steve nuzzled the back of his neck. "Sure. I saw most of it."

"Was something wrong?"

"Of course not," he assured gently. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"What's the saying about cats and curiosity?"

"I'm neither a cat nor has curiosity ever harmed me! Wait, that's a lie. I know." He chuckled.

"You're everything," Steve said quietly. Tony stilled in his arms, quiet. "I don't think I tell you enough, but you're everything."

"Steve..." Tony said, like he was helpless to say anything else.

"It's fine. I don't want you to say anything. Just listen. You're so important, Tony. And you don't see it. And that's fine. I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

Tony curled in on himself.

"You're important to me. To the Avengers. To the world. You're so good at so many things." Steve kissed the juncture of Tony's neck and shoulders. "You deserve good things."

"No!" Tony gasped out, the word broken. "No I don't, Steve, I—"

"Shut up, Tony." Steve hugged him tighter. "You do so much! How can you not see that."

Mumbling, the words sounded something like 'penance.'

Steve sighed. "I see it. I wanted you to know that too. I see how good you are. How strong you are. How important you are. And not just to me. So don't ever think that you wouldn't be missed. Okay?"

Tony mumbled again.

"Okay, Tony?" He shook him slightly.

"I hear you," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but you don't listen."

"I listen!" Tony turned in his arms. "Where'd all this come from?"

Steve blinked at him, lips quirking up. "You're so special."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Special ed."

"Hey. I don't like that."

"Sorry."

"No, like you mean it. That's not nice."

Sighing, Tony bumped his forehead against Steve's clavicle. "You're right. Sorry. That's not...even in private."

"You're brilliant, and kind, and generous, and special, Anthony Stark." Steve was glad for the faint moonlight coming in the window because it meant he got to see Tony blush like he always did whenever Steve called him his full name. "And don't you dare argue."

Chuckling, Tony nodded. "Fine. Uncle. You win."

"I know. I just hope you know it." Steve cupped Tony's face and kissed his forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," Tony murmured, arms snaking around Steve. "Sleep?"

"Sleep. Good night, Tony."

"Mm... 'night."

Tony may not have really listened to Steve, but the words would percolate. And if Steve said them more frequently, Tony would be more likely to believe them. Tucking the other man's head into the hollow of his neck, Steve smiled and let himself drift off to sleep.