It's peanut butter chocolate time!

The question that Steve Rogers asked himself every night, while touching the sleeping form of his lover, was not why or when he started sleeping with Tony Stark, but when he would stop.

It had started as a one-night stand, all lust and heat, the clash of bodies, members and mouths fighting for dominance and pleasure.

However, in the pleasurable mist of the after orgasm it had all changed, Stark had drifted to unconsciousness, exhausted by the wild rhythm of sex, Steve lying next to him, glanced at his one night lover and knew at that moment that everything had changed.

He liked Stark, at least until he talked. He was a smart and strong man, the image of the future and science, all bravado and pride, the man who knew that was in disadvantage with almost every one of his “teammates” but wouldn’t let that bother him, contrary to that, he would find a way to make himself day by day more valuable.

He was a spoiled rich boy; there was no way to deny that, always willing to seduce others whether with sex, money or charm, and everything in the midst of a cancer that was slowly stealing his life.

Seeing him sleeping like that, body slack from exhaustion, face blushed and relaxed, it had done something to him. For the first time since he knew him, Stark looked as a man, as a human being, affected by the same evils as others, and more. A man who, albeit in secret, was afraid of the death that was slowly reaching him and was craving for some sort of contact to keep himself anchored in the world. Contact that had been given and taken by Natasha Romanov, leaving Tony alone and blaming himself for Jarvis's death

It was surprising how the way he saw the man had changed just by seeing Stark stripped of his defenses, it was surprising but understandable, for he could see Stark, no, Tony in a new light. The barriers that the man had built around himself had disappeared to reveal something new; something that everyone knew Stark had but almost no one had a chance to see: his heart.

In broad daylight, however, nothing would have changed. They would act as they had always acted, not minding the other but for an occasional discussion. There were no smiles, no flirty looks; in the eye of the public and their teammates there would be nothing.

At night though everything was different, and Steve would find himself reaching for the man sleeping at his side, pulling him closer, while he asked himself the same question.

“Who will stop this? When will this stop?”

He knew the answer, and he feared it.