Chapter Text
Steve woke up.
Christmas morning.
Steve had been ghosted before, yet never on Christmas Eve. And perhaps never by someone who’s presence he enjoyed so much. Maybe that was why this disappointment felt like so much more. Tony had managed to convince him that despite their different social standings and Tony’s many achievements, he might still be interested in a washed up ex-soldier. An art-school drop-up. In Steve.
He grabbed Bucky’s and Natasha’s gifts and pasted on a smile -regardless of his damp mood - and trudged to their apartment per tradition.
It only took them ten minutes and a hot cocoa and the story came spilling out of him.
Nat spoke first, her special brand of bluntness. “What did you expect? He’s a billionaire. Steve, honey, I hate to break it to you-“
Steve blocked out her rendition of completely out his league. Steve had enough of that circling in his brain. He didn’t need to her it from her too.
“I thought we had a connection.”
Nat looked at him with pity in her bright eyes.
Bucky pushed a glass of consolation eggnog into his hand.
Christmas passed, in a blur of lights, slush, and unexpected rainfall which seemed to emulate his mood too perfectly. New Years came too, and Steve appreciated that his friends loved him enough they never mentioned Christmas Eve, or what a fool Steve had been.
That time he thought Tony Stark might like him wasn’t mentioned, and he couldn’t be more grateful to them.
They took down the Christmas trees in the park the same day that the newspaper Steve picked up had a picture of Tony - eyes obscured by tinted glasses and smiling a whole lot less genuinely than Steve knew he could.
The headline said: TONY STARK KIDNAPPED
Steve felt numb.
An anonymous source confirmed that Tony Stark was abducted on Christmas Eve…
Authorities have not shared any leads…
Acting CEO Pepper Potts was not available for comment…
And well,
He knew it was stupid to be happy that Tony hadn’t abandoned him in the wake of everything.
There was guilt too – that after two weeks of radio silence and discouragement, that it wasn’t Tony’s fault like Steve had blamed in his mind as he had walked home alone on Christmas Eve.
His next thought hurt more, because was he even still alive? People did not just get kidnapped for weeks and then… walk it off. Tony, who was so bright and big.
He’d only known him for one night, a handful of hours, and he managed to leave an empty hole when he was gone.
His best friend noticed when the cloud over his head seemed to stay.
Bucky frowned at him. “Steve – are you hung up over a guy you knew for two hours? Not to mention, that guy is Tony Stark.”
“He was more than he looks on TV, Buck. I just want him to be okay.”
“Sure, pal. I just don’t want you getting any more hurt.”
“I know.” Bucky had been looking out for him since they were boys. Still, after that, Steve found himself keeping his thoughts about Tony in his head.
He watched the news more diligently, and in March, Tony Stark came home.
He followed Tony’s story as best he could. Part of Steve was glad so much of his recovery was private, as it should be. The world didn’t deserve to know these intimate details about him – the length of his hospital stay, the surgery that came after, the very public collapse on a Tuesday at Stark Industries – that they did. The paparazzi were vultures, taking something painful and private and handing it out for public consumption. But there was a little part of Steve that craved knowing, and these little tidbits were all he had. The best way to know that Tony’s alive. Tony will be okay.
Once, some months after Tony’s return, Steve found himself in the lobby of Stark Industries.
The receptionist informed him coolly that Tony was not taking any appointments.
“Can I give you a message to give to him?”
“Sir,” she said. “Tony Stark is unavailable.”
He didn’t blame her. She was just doing her job. He didn’t blame Tony either, for not wanting to see anyone.
Summer turned to fall as Steve watched Tony from the sidelines and through the screens. He thought of him when he walked by Tony’s tower, a wisp of hope he didn’t admit to that their paths would cross again.
Snow fell and lights went up, and Steve wondered.
Bucky invited him for Christmas Eve drinks with some of their colleagues.
Steve declined. He had somewhere else he wanted to be that night.
The man’s back was to him, but he was wearing a sharp grey suit with a red scarf and had a shock of dark hair and Steve knew.
He didn’t hold himself the same way that Steve remembered. The easiness was gone, his shoulders were stiff. His posture reminded Steve of Bucky when he first came home, and Steve took great care to announce himself, letting his footsteps fall heavier and his voice be gentle when Steve said his name.
Tony spun around.
He inhaled sharply, his hand twitching towards his chest as if to protect, and Steve knew he hadn’t come home as he’d left. Whatever hurt he had sustained was still there. His smile was hesitant.
Still, he’d come on Christmas Eve, and that had to mean something.
“Steve.” He murmured. The Christmas lights danced in his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You’re perfect.” Steve said.