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Steve’s been fretting about whether or not to ask for almost a week.
He thinks it’s a good idea, something romantic that involves a lot of close body contact (although that’s not doing anything to calm his nerves), but it’s potentially a very sore spot for Tony.
“The only way you’re ever going to know is if you ask him,” Natasha says.
Steve sighs because she’s right.
Apparently now is the time because Tony strolls in and says, “Ask who what?”
Natasha pats Steve’s arm and slips out of her chair, leaving Steve to ask Tony in private, which he’s immensely grateful for.
Tony has moved to the fridge and is rooting around inside, for something in particular or just to browse, Steve isn’t sure—and Steve decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He asks while Tony has his back turned.
“Would you want to go flying with me? Not, in the suit. Just me. Uh. Holding you.”
Tony is silent for a moment that seems to go on forever. Then he straightens up, shuts the fridge, and turns around. His brow is furrowed, but it’s his thinking look, not anger. “You can do that?” he says. “Sustained flight carrying someone my size?”
“Sure,” Steve says, shrugging. He hasn’t tested it, not really, but he’s pretty sure he can. “I’m pretty sure, anyway.”
That’s when Tony’s eyes light up. “So we’d be doing a test run? I’m in. When did you want to go?”
That’s…not exactly what Steve’d meant, but maybe it can be both. That’s how it always worked in the pictures, right?
“Now?” he suggests, and Tony grins.
Tony talks, mouth and hands moving a mile-a-minute as they make their way up, and Steve’s so happy and relieved he wasn’t upset that he doesn’t get nervous again until they’re standing on the flight pad, Tony’s eyes fixed expectantly on him. “So how do you want to try this?”
“Uh,” Steve says. He licks his lips, throat suddenly dry. “Well, I can lift my body because it’s under my wings, so presumably the physics are similar if I’m carrying someth—someone.” He corrects, feeling himself blush like an idiot.
It must be the light, but it looks like Tony’s eyes go a shade darker, his expression turning hungry.
“Front it is,” he says and Steve’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the way Tony’s voice has dipped a little lower. He hopes not.
Feeling a little surge of confidence, he waves Tony forward. “Let’s try it out and see.”
Tony steps into reach and Steve slides a hand around his waist, realizing at the last second that he’s pulling Tony in like they’re about to dance. Then Tony’s pressed up against him from chest to knee and there isn’t anymore time to think.
Tony’s eyes are so big—dark, but bright, too. Beautiful.
“Ready?” Steve breathes.
Tony nods and his fingers tighten around Steve’s biceps, steady pressure. Tony meets Steve’s eyes until he spreads his wings. Then he tilts his head back, watches them spread out to their full length, his expression not unlike awe.
Steve feels a quick rush of pride. White wings aren’t rare, but they’re prized—kind of like blond hair, and since the serum Steve knows that his are particularly striking. Fully stretched out, they’re twenty-five feet long, the color of freshly fallen snow. They’re lush and full, and a total pain in the ass to take care of.
“Gorgeous,” he thinks he hears Tony murmur.
Steve makes sure his arms are extra tight around Tony, then lets himself tip backwards over the edge of the landing pad toward the street below.
He feels Tony’s gasp, then the way a crowing laugh bubbles out of his chest, his fingers clenching hard around Steve’s biceps.
They plummet downward until, at just the right moment, Steve snaps open his wings and they take a sharp turn back up toward the sky.
“Show off!” Tony shouts giddily over the rush of wind.
Steve just grins, because yeah, maybe he is.
It takes a little concentration to compensate for Tony’s weight, but it’s not difficult. A few extra flaps of his wings and they’re rising up beyond the skyscrapers, into the clouds.
Tony giggles and shivers as the cool mist clings to their hair and faces. It occurs to Steve he’s only wearing a tank top and isn’t exerting himself. Damn, he should have thought to tell him to change into something warmer.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “It’s cold up here—”
Tony leans back a little, face stretched in a mile-wide grin. “It’s chilly, but I’ll live, I promise. How’re your arms holding up so far?”
“Fine. It’s a little strange because I’m used to the shield or a gun, but I’ll get used to it.”
Tony’s laugh is the best reward.
“Might be easier if I help out a little,” Tony says, and before Steve can ask what he means, Tony slings his legs up around Steve’s hips, ankles hooking together at the back of Steve’s thighs. For a second, Steve forgets how to fly and they drop several feet.
When he recovers, his face is red hot and Tony is laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he chokes, “should have warned you I was going to feel you up with my feet.”
“It’s-it's—that’s fine,” Steve stutters.
“Well, in both our self-interests, I’m going to warn you now that I’m going to put my arms around your neck, okay?”
Steve can only nod dumbly.
Tony leans forward so he can get the crook of his elbow around Steve’s neck, then grasps the wrist of his other arm in one hand. He’s so close it’s scrambling Steve’s brain, reducing his thoughts to pure nonsense. “Voilà,” Tony says. “Now you should be able to go hands-free.”
Uncertain, Steve releases his grip on Tony a little at a time. When he doesn’t go plunging to his death, Tony grins at him, eyes glittering.
It’s more than Steve can take, having him so close, being so happy. There’s warm sun on their faces and cool cloud dew dampening their backs and Steve is so painfully glad that he somehow made it here, to the future, to Tony.
He kisses him.
Tony makes a noise of surprise, then kisses back to Steve’s delight, slipping one arm free of Steve’s neck so he can cup one side of his face with his hand. Steve clutches him tighter.
“Thought you might be hitting on me,” Tony breathes when they break apart, tilting his forehead to rest against Steve’s. “In your own strange way.”
Steve blushes. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Tony grins, eyes crinkling. “I can tell. But don’t worry, it works for you. I like it.”
“Dating’s hard,” Steve says and Tony laughs, head tipping back to expose the long line of his throat.
They spend another twenty minutes lazily spiraling around in the clouds before Steve starts to feel the strain in his muscles and Tony starts to lose feeling in his fingers. They’ve drifted all the way to Jersey and laugh themselves silly about it as they climb into the back of a cab.
Tony’s smiling even though he’s shivering and his smile just grows wider when Steve tentatively pulls him up against his side. Tony has no such hesitations and he slips his ice cold hands up under Steve’s shirt to press them to his abs.
“Jesus,” Steve breathes.
“My own personal heater,” Tony purrs, laughter thick in his voice.
“I’m only allowing this because I didn’t suggest you get a coat,” Steve tells him, wincing as he covers Tony’s hands with his.
“My hero.” Tony’s eyes are fixed on Steve’s face and he’s a little intimidated by the attention until Tony says, hesitating almost imperceptibly, “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
Steve’s heart skips. He nods. “Yeah, Tony. I—I’d really like that.”
And to think he’d been afraid to ask.