Work Text:
Tony
"You’re miserable."
Tony sighed, throwing the wrench he had been using down onto the bench in front of him, and swivelling in his chair to face Pepper as she strode into the workshop.
"I’m not miserable," he replied, but it sounded unbelievable even to his own ears. "I’m fine."
"Don’t you dare bullshit me," she disagreed, pointing a finger in his direction. "Ever since you started this thing with Steve -"
"We’re not a thing," Tony cut in quickly, because it hurt his soul when people assumed they were. "It’s just sex."
"But it’s not, is it?" she asked, quietly, gently. "Not to you."
And the truth was, it wasn’t just sex. Sure, it had started off that way - he and Steve had come to an agreement that they would help each other let off a little steam every once in a while - but since then their friendship had come on such a long way, and Tony had seen parts of Steve that he doubted many other people had. Hell, he had shown Steve parts of himself that very few people had seen, and now… well, now he had gone and fallen head over heels for the guy, and he hadn’t even seemed to notice.
"This, whatever it is that you’ve got going on between you… it’s going to kill you, Tony," Pepper sighed softly, stepping up into his space to wrap her arms consolingly around his shoulders. "Since Steve went on that mission a few weeks ago, you’ve barely even been out of the workshop. You miss him, I get it, but he -"
"Doesn’t feel the same way, and I shouldn’t be shirking my responsibilities to come and sulk down here?" he asked quietly, and felt Pepper wince a little at his words.
"You need to talk to him," she told him, stroking a hand through his hair comfortingly. "Either tell him how you feel, and see if he wants the same things, or end it and move on. Limiting yourself to friends with benefits with him when you feel this way isn’t healthy."
Tony sighed, long and deep, and brought his arms up to wrap around Pepper, too. “I know,” he murmured, shutting his eyes as they began to sting and water traitorously.
—
Steve arrived back from his mission later that evening, and trudged into the kitchen while the rest of the team were having dinner. Tony immediately perked up - he knew he did, and he knew the rest of the team save for stupid, oblivious Steve did, too - as soon as he saw the man, because he had just missed him so much, and it was good to finally be able to rest easy, knowing he was home.
"Hey, guys," the soldier smiled tiredly, before his eyes locked on Tony’s. "Tony, can I talk to you for a minute? It’s, uh… regarding the mission."
It wasn’t regarding the mission.
Tony still immediately got to his feet, because this was an excuse to spend time with Steve (and tell him about his feelings, a little voice in the back of his head, that sounded a lot like Pepper, told him), and studiously ignored Clint’s mutter of, “As if anyone here isn’t aware of what that’s code for,” as he followed Steve out through the communal living room and into the corridor.
As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Steve drew Tony in for a breath-stealing kiss that left him feeling lightheaded and giddy all at once.
"Missed you," Steve mumbled against his lips as he pulled away, and oh God, this was it, wasn’t it? Steve had finally realised that he was in love with Tony, and - "Not had sex in three weeks, for God’s sake - missed your tight ass so much, Tony."
To add insult to injury, Steve grabbed his ass and gave it a squeeze. Tony really shouldn’t have been as desperately disappointed as he was - it had been stupid of him to ever assume Steve would want him for more than just his body, after all - but he still had to choke back the lump that was forming in his throat.
"I promised I’d take Sharon out on a date later, but there’s time, if you want to… you know," Steve grinned, oblivious to the fact that Tony’s heart was breaking right in front of him.
"You’re… you’re still seeing Sharon?" he asked faintly, putting on as real a laugh as he could muster. "I guess you don’t really need me anymore, then -"
"What?" Steve frowned. "It’s only our second date, Tony. I won’t be getting anything like that from her for a while. Don’t you… do you not want to keep doing this?”
Tony should have told him the truth, there and then - spilled his feelings out in the hopes that Steve would break it off with Sharon and be with him like Tony wanted him to - but the soldier’s eyes were just so big and sad all of a sudden, and Tony was so, hopelessly in love with him, that he realised he’d rather get whatever he could while he still had the chance, rather than risk their friendship altogether.
"Sure, buddy," he nodded, but his voice was brittle and barely held together. "Of course I do."
"Great," Steve grinned, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him off to his suite.
—
"Hey, Steve?" Tony mumbled, sweaty and physically sated, around an hour or so later.
"Mmm?" Steve hummed in reply as he slowly pulled out. "What?"
"Do you ever…" he paused, frowning, as he tried to find the right words. "Do you not think that, I don’t know, maybe it’d be easier if we just kept doing this forever?"
And then he winced, because he hadn’t meant to be so telling straight away. He paused, however, when Steve huffed out a laugh as he dropped down next to him.
"Like when we’re old men?" he asked, grinning. "I don’t think our wives would like that."
"Well, why would we need wives when we have each other?" Tony asked, feeling a little sick with the stress of it all. "We make each other happy, right?"
"I…" Steve seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "Tony, are you…? I’m not gay."
And that was so far from what Tony had been expecting, that he actually snorted out loud. “Yeah, sure, Steve.”
"No, really, I’m not gay," Steve reiterated, and Tony didn’t understand, because the guy seemed genuinely confused. "You’re not either, right? I thought this was just a way of letting off steam -"
"It is!" Tony agreed quickly. "But you… you just had your dick in my ass, Steve! That’s pretty damn gay -"
"Well, it’s not like I was thinking about you!" Steve replied, and then fell silent as he obviously - finally - must have seen the flash of agony on Tony’s face that he couldn’t quite hide. "Tony, I…"
"It’s fine," Tony snapped wearily, sitting up and slinging his legs over the side of the bed to hide his tears. "Yeah, no, I wasn’t thinking about you, either. Don’t worry, Steve."
"We agreed… this was just to help each other out," Steve breathed from behind him, voice unsure. "Tony?"
"I have work to be getting on with," he replied, jerking up off the bed as Steve’s hand snaked out to rest on his shoulder and scooping up his clothes from the floor. "Have a nice time with Sharon."
"Tony -" Steve tried as he headed for the door, but he was pretty sure he was seconds away from breaking down, and he absolutely would not be doing that anywhere near the blond.
"I’ll talk to you later," he mumbled as he basically ran from the room - still partially naked - and didn’t stop until he collapsed onto the couch in the workshop to weep.
—
He didn’t know what to do. He had never felt this way before - as though Steve had personally reached inside him with a whisk and blended everything up until his whole body felt like it was churning, aching, and dying.
Days had passed since his run-in with the soldier - how many exactly, he couldn’t be sure - and he had initiated panic-room level security as soon as he had entered the workshop, which meant that, under no circumstances except his express consent, would anyone be disturbing him. Not that he was doing much, other than slowly starving and dehydrating himself to death.
Steve had said he wasn’t gay; that was the thing that hurt the most, because the way he had been in bed with Tony - how gentle and loving - had made him believe… well. It had given him hope, where there was obviously none. Tony just didn’t understand.
Not that it mattered anymore, really. Steve had Sharon to love and be loved by, and, though it was actually, physically killing him, Tony loved him enough to want him to be happy. He didn’t need Tony, and that was fine, because he didn’t really feel like sticking around in a world where nobody was ever going to love him.
"Sir, the other Avengers have expressed their explicit distress over your self-impeded isolation again, and -"
"Mute," he mumbled into the back of the couch, having pressed his face into the pillows there a long time ago to block out the world around him. Immediately, JARVIS went silent.
He didn’t want to hear about the other Avengers - didn’t want to hear about anything anymore. Everything was a lie - his life, his friends, his happiness. None of it was real, and never would be.
He’d be better off dead.
That thought - ironically - sparked some life into his tired body, and he managed to get himself off the couch and over to a safe that he kept at the other side of the room. Inside was a supply he had been hoarding for years, just in case things ever became too much - in case there was no other way out.
Silently, he pulled out the bottle of whiskey and half a bottle of Diazepam he had leftover from the days of his anxiety, and carried them back over to the couch, where - before he could second guess himself - he popped the lid of pills and tossed them all back, and then opened the seal on the bottle to take a long pull.
Now all he had to do was wait just a little longer, and the pain would be over.
–
Steve
Steve was gay.
Well, correction – Steve was bisexual (because he did actually like Sharon, too), but that wasn't important. The main thing was that Steve liked guys, even though he had never said it out loud before – had never even really admitted it to himself before, actually. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, though, there was a little part of him that was attracted to Tony Stark.
He had had no idea the other man was in love with him, though.
And, really, what was he supposed to do with that information? It had been Tony who had insisted from the beginning that what they were doing was strictly just sex, as though he had expected Steve to fall in love with him, so... what had changed? When had Tony suddenly realised he wanted more, and why hadn't he said anything about it? He could understand if it was nerves, but what had he expected Steve to do about it? Punch him? Stop being his friend? Immediately reject him -
Realisation hit Steve so quickly that it knocked all the breath out of his body, and he rolled immediately out of bed. He had rejected Tony, hadn't he? He had been so self conscious about what Tony would think about him, that he hadn't stopped to think about how his words had been hurting the other man, and... oh God, his face had been heartbreaking.
Steve was scum.
Fumbling around on the floor for his clothes, he tugged them on quickly and raced out of the room after the recently retreated genius.
“JARVIS, is Tony in the workshop?” he called as he stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for the right floor.
“Indeed, Captain Rogers, but I must inform you that Sir has enabled the highest level of security within this tower. Not even I can override it without his express permission.”
That gave Steve pause, because, where Tony was known for locking himself in the workshop and disallowing all the other Avengers' override codes, he always built in a loophole of some kind that JARVIS – genius that the AI was – could override for them, should the need occur. The fact that Tony had locked out essentially the closest person (AI) to him was a very, very bad sign.
“But I... is there no way you can reason with him?” he asked, feeling about as big as a mouse. “He listens to you, JARVIS, and I just want to speak to him -”
“Intervention at this time would be ill advised, Captain. In my experience, it would be better to wait until Sir calms down and sleeps off his distress.”
Tony was distressed. That was... so not making Steve want to leave him by himself. His gut was churning horribly with guilt, and he didn't know what to do to make the situation any better. If Tony wouldn't open up for him, or talk to him, then there was nothing that Steve could do to rectify the situation. Hell, he wasn't even sure what he'd say if he did manage to get Tony to let him in, because he wasn't even sure what he was feeling, himself. Guilt, primarily, at the moment, but that wasn't helpful.
“JARVIS, take me to the communal floor instead,” he sighed, and felt the elevator shudder slightly as it changed course. “I've ruined everything, haven't I?”
The AI's silence was more telling than any words could ever have been.
–
“You're an actual piece of shit, Rogers; you know that?”
“Clint -”
“No, this needs to be said,” the archer snapped as Steve came to a halt in the kitchen doorway. “I don't know if it's some weird forties thing, where you treat those who care about you like crap, but that shit's got to stop -”
“What are you talking about?” he defended himself, because he hadn't, honestly, thought the others knew about him and Tony.
“You want to tell me why I saw a half naked Stark practically sprinting into his workshop, sobbing like a child? And don't you dare tell me it's nothing to do with you, because there isn't a person here who doesn't know how you're screwing him over -”
“I wasn't screwing him over!” Steve snapped, taking a few more steps into the room. “Tony was the one who kept emphasising it was just sex when we started this, and then never told me it had turned into more for him -”
“You should have realised!” Clint yelled. “Everyone else did! You're supposed to be his best friend – you didn't notice the way he fucking lit up when you walked in here earlier? He's been pining after you for three fucking weeks – hell, he's hardly been out of the workshop the whole time – and whatever you've just done has finally pushed him over the edge, because he looked wrecked, Rogers, you son of a bitch -”
“Clint, that's enough,” Bruce sighed, reaching up to pull the archer back into his seat after he had sprang up in his passion. “Tony was a willing party in this. He could have stopped it.”
“But we all know Stark's not capable of making his own decisions when it comes to his emotional well-being! It's, like, his whole deal!”
“Clint,” Natasha snapped. “Enough.”
Clint huffed indignantly, and shot Steve the dirtiest look he had ever seen on the other man, but finally fell silent. The other Avengers were all looking at him expectantly, even though they weren't explicitly telling him how disappointed in him they all were; Steve felt sick.
“I didn't... you all realised?” he asked, voice small and thoroughly chastised. “You knew, and not one of you thought to tell me?”
“You were dealing with your own stuff,” Natasha replied, and her expression told Steve she knew exactly what he had been going through with his sexuality crisis. “I don't think any of us expected this reaction, though. What, exactly, did you say to him?”
Steve hung his head, physically aching under the weight of his guilt. “I didn't realise he actually liked me. I thought he'd hate me if I told him I was actually attracted to men, too, so I... I told him I wasn't gay.”
“You what?” Clint snapped, and Thor had to physically hold him down as he went to stand up again. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“Thor, take Clint out of the room,” Natasha instructed, and Thor immediately scooped the indignant archer up to drag him away. “He is not helping anything.”
“He's never seen Tony this upset,” Bruce murmured, shooting Steve a placid, but still somehow judgemental, look. “You've really screwed up, Steve.”
“I'm becoming more and more aware of that fact, thanks, Bruce. I -” Steve paused, momentarily distracted, as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he baulked at the text message that had lit up his screen.
“What?” Natasha asked.
“I... it's Sharon,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I forgot – I promised her a date.”
“Well, I think this is the perfect opportunity to think about what you really want, don't you?” Bruce replied, raising a single eyebrow. “Before things go too far in either situation.”
“I... don't know what to do,” Steve croaked, holding back the sudden urge to break down and cry. “Tony's got military level security down in the workshop, and is refusing to talk to anyone, and I can't just... this isn't Sharon's fault, y'know? She's done nothing wrong -”
“You'll hear no disagreements from us,” Natasha shrugged, and Steve shot her a helpless look. “This one's on you, Steve, and before you text her back, you need to sit down and have a long think about you, okay?”
“I -”
“Okay?”
Steve sighed, shoulders drooping, defeated. “Yeah, okay,” he whispered.
“You owe it to Tony and Sharon,” Bruce nodded, leaning over to pat his arm. “And you owe it to yourself, too.”
“All right,” he nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket untouched. “I guess I'll be in my bedroom if you need me?”
And, with that, he left the room again – studiously ignoring the hateful glare Clint shot him as he passed him in the living room.
–
Days passed, and Tony still hadn't come out of the workshop. The fact that he hadn't texted Sharon back to explain told Steve that, really, he wasn't as invested in that relationship as he was in Tony – whether they ended up just being friends, or more – and so, after three days of sitting on it, he finally called her and arranged to meet in order to break it off with her. Hey, at least he was doing the honourable thing for once, and not ending it over text, or something.
The biggest kick in the teeth, however, was that even Sharon didn't seem surprised when he explained the whole Tony situation to her, and, therefore, why they couldn't keep seeing each other. Had they both been that obvious the whole time? Why had nobody told him he had feelings for Tony? Or that Tony had feelings for him?
“JARVIS?” he asked, weary and fed-up, as he got back to the tower. “Is Tony still in the workshop?”
“Yes, Captain.”
The AI's replies had been getting shorter and snappier as the days progressed, and Steve thought that must be a very bad sign. “Just take me down there?” he asked, instead of trying to gather more information. The AI conceded to his will, and the elevator began to move, but Steve knew that he would find no change down there – the windows would be blacked out, and no code he knew to type in on the keypad would get him anywhere.
He arrived at the right level, and – sure enough – the floor to ceiling glass was blacked out in front of him, and the door was firmly closed. Disheartened beyond belief, Steve sighed, and then took up his usual place on the bottom step of the stairs that led up to the Avengers communal floor.
“Tell Tony I'm outside and ready to talk whenever he is, JARVIS?” he asked, but got no reply, so he had no idea if his message had been relayed.
He would just have to wait and see, it seemed.
–
He jerked awake to a terrible, grating alarm, and immediately realised he must have fallen asleep on the stairs. Glancing blearily around, he realised that the whole corridor had been lit up with red light as the blaring alarm continued, and he had no idea what was going on.
“What the hell is that?” Clint yelled from the top of the stairs, before he and Bruce came running down. “What did you do, Steve?”
“Nothing!” he replied, getting to his feet. “JARVIS?”
“Fundamental base code one: 'protect maker's life' has been initiated,” came the AI's reply, but he seemed more robotic and monotonal than usual. “All previous orders invalid. Floor: 'Workshop' doors opening.”
“What?” Steve all but screamed, an unbearable panic shooting through him all of a sudden, as the workshop door slid open of its own accord. “What's he talking about – why does he need to protect Tony's life?”
Clint sped right past him – down the rest of the stairs and into the workshop – closely followed by Bruce, and, pulling himself momentarily together as his heart beat frantically against his ribs, Steve followed after. The sight he was met with in the workshop was like something out of his worst nightmare. The whole room was trashed, as though Tony had thrown whatever he could find in his rage and distress, and the genius himself... oh God.
Tony wasn't moving.
Clint was already over his body where it lay in a heap next to the couch – the archer's constant stream of, “Shit, shit, oh God, Stark, what did you do -” travelling all the way across the room – as Bruce moved over to the coffee table, gasping in horror at the two empty bottles he found there – one of whiskey, and the other of pills.
Steve felt himself stagger a little.
“Banner?” Clint called, going into professional mode as he rolled Tony onto his side, and – with a sickening jolt – Steve realised the genius was frothing at the mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, and he was so pale -
Steve had done this to him.
“Banner, what do we do?”
“On it,” Bruce nodded, taking a deep breath and moving quickly to the other side of the workshop. “Clint, I need you to call an ambulance right now, and tell them he's overdosed -” Steve heard himself whimper, but it was as if from far away – as though he was having an outer body experience - “Steve, I need you to wait outside, okay? Steve -?”
Like hell. Instead, Steve made his legs move, and crossed the room in a few, long strides, before dropping down next to Tony's shuddering, spasming body. He didn't know what to think – what to feel – and was distantly aware that he might be going into shock. Reaching out, and careful to keep Tony on his side so he could spew out the froth in his mouth onto the floor, he drew the smaller man to his chest and let out a choked sob.
“- put him back down, Steve, or he'll choke. Let go of him.” Bruce was in his line of sight again, and he was glad for the instructions, because he could follow those easily, so he put Tony back down again.
“What's that?” Clint asked from above them, alternating between chattering away to the emergency response team on his phone and watching the scene play out in front of him.
“Activated carbon,” Bruce replied distractedly, holding up a small, dark lump and prying Tony's mouth open. “Not the best way to give it him – usually the pills are more filtered – but he's going to have to take it pure, I'm afraid. It should soak up the toxins before they have a chance to get too far into his blood steam.”
“Is that really a good idea?”
“It's actually standard medical practice these days,” Bruce replied, physically sticking two fingers into Tony's mouth to scoop out the foam forming there, before dropping the substance in and pressing his jaw closed again. “Used more than stomach pumping, actually.”
“Is he – what did he -” Steve didn't know what he was trying to say, and, looking at Bruce and Clint, it seemed they had only just remembered he was still there.
“Shit, Steve, you don't look good,” Bruce snapped into motion again, using gentle motions to steer Steve backwards onto the couch. Honestly, he was glad for it, because he was beginning to feel quite faint – something he hadn't felt since before the serum. “It's not your fault, all right? Take some deep breaths, and... Clint, they're on their way, right -?”
“I have just let the paramedics in, Doctor Banner,” JARVIS announced. “They should be here momentarily.”
“There, see, Steve? Look at me,” Bruce instructed, and Steve did as he was told mindlessly. “They're going to do everything they can for him, okay? This is not your fault.”
Steve had never disagreed with something so vehemently before in his life.
–
The wait was agony.
They took Tony immediately into the ICU when they arrived at the hospital – Steve and the other Avengers hot on the ambulance's heels – and he had been in there for three hours now, with no word from any of the doctors. Steve and the rest of the Avengers had to sit outside in the waiting room – Thor and Natasha demanding to be filled in on what had happened, because they had been in the gym at the time – so Bruce and Clint told them while Steve sat to the side, trying not to scream.
The more he thought about it, the more real it became. He could – could still – have lost Tony, and that thought was more terrifying than anything else in the entire world. Not seeing Tony every day – not being able to touch him, and hug him, and... and kiss him – suddenly seemed unbearable, and he realised, heart aching in his chest, that -
“I'm in love with Tony,” he whispered, but it was still out loud, and he knew the others heard it.
“About fucking time -”
“Clint, I will throw you out of a window,” Natasha snapped, before a warm, petite arm was circling around Steve's shoulders, and he was being pulled into a fierce embrace. “It's okay, Steve -”
“It's not,” he disagreed, desperately trying to hold in a sob, and failing. “I'm the reason he's here – if I'd just figured it out sooner -”
“You mustn't think like that, Captain,” was Thor's sombre response. “Anthony would not want you to punish yourself so. You must steer your efforts into his recovery.”
“But what if he... what if he doesn't recover?” he choked, clinging to Natasha like a child. “What if he -?”
“Uh... Avengers?”
Every head shot up at once – Steve's included – to look at the bemused looking doctor stood in front of them.
“Oh, God,” he breathed, springing to his feet and batting his tears away. “How is he? Is he going to be okay, is -”
“Mr Stark had a staggering amount of toxins in his body,” the doctor began, and Steve felt a little light headed. “It was most certainly... not an accident. There was intent, which is worrying.
“That being said, Doctor Banner's quick thinking with the activated carbon may well have saved his life.” Steve let out a strangled noise of relief. “There was still a considerable amount of chemicals in his body when he arrived, so we've pumped his stomach as well to be safe, but he seems to be stable now, and I'm confident that he'll make a full recovery.”
“Oh, thank God,” Bruce muttered from behind him. “Thank God.”
“We're going to have to have a chat about Mr Stark's mental well-being when he's a little better, of course, and we'll probably proscribe some therapy for him. The worst isn't over yet, but he's alive, and that's what matters.”
God, Steve hadn't even really thought about the ramifications of what Tony had done. He'd... he'd wanted to die – to stop living altogether – all because of what Steve had done to him. He suddenly felt sick and dizzy with guilt all over again.
He had to make this right.
“Can we see him?” he asked faintly, looking back up at the doctor.
“He should be awake pretty soon, so yes, but it's probably a good idea that it's not all of you at once – it could get a little overwhelming,” the doctor replied, and then Steve was off – down the corridor, weaving in and out of patients and doctors alike, until he spotted Tony's prone form lying in a bed through one of the windows, and stopped in his tracks.
Slowly, he moved to the door and opened it – closing it again behind him – and all the sounds from outside immediately fell quiet as he stepped over to Tony's bed. The genius was still much too pale for his liking – and skinny, too, in his hospital gown – but he was alive. Steve could see it in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the quiet, barely there whistling of his nose.
Without really thinking about it, he reached out and gently – so gently, because Tony was precious – swept slightly sweat-damp hair out of the genius' face with a couple of fingers, and whispered, “I'm so sorry,” before he could stop himself.
Those words were his demise, because he was suddenly falling apart at the seams as he reached out to hold Tony's hand in both of his own. His vision was blurry because of his tears, and he couldn't stop his bottom lip from trembling as the weight of everything he had been carrying over the past couple of days collapsed on him all at once. He could barely breathe for the agony tearing up his chest, and had to slump down into the visitors chair and tip forwards further still so that his head rested gently against Tony's chest. He had to feel it – had to know for certain that Tony's heart was still beating, and that he was still with him - because he physically couldn't comprehend the very real thought that – if not for Bruce – he could have been sitting in a morgue right now, instead of a recovery room.
“I love you,” he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing a gentle kiss to the very centre of Tony's chest, where the reactor used to be. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you – I'm sorry I made you believe you were alone – but I do, Tony, I love you. I'd never really thought about it before – didn't want to, because I was terrified of what you'd think of me – but I never thought... how could someone as perfect as you fall for someone like me? I'm... I'm a bad person, I... I drove you to this, I -”
“Steve?”
Immediately – heart hammering in his chest – Steve's head shot up, eyes wide, and instantaneously caught the sight of Tony, awake and alive, looking back at him confusedly.
“Oh, God,” he choked, and couldn't see for the tears as he tentatively reached out and cupped Tony's pale cheek in his hand. “God, Tony, you're all right, you -”
“Why are you here?” Tony cut in, face unreadable, as he pulled away from Steve's touch.
Steve felt like he'd been stabbed.
“Because I love you,” he replied, trying to sound as confident and earnest as he possibly could, because this was the only thing he truly cared about. “I'm in love with you, Tony, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I made you think -”
“No,” Tony replied, simply, and immediately cut Steve off. “No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to just tell me you love me after... after...” his voice broke, and he looked more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen him before, laid out as he was. “You said you're not gay. You told me... you said I wasn't even the one you were thinking about while we were having sex, while I was falling in love with you -”
“I didn't know how to tell you!” Steve insisted. “You said it was just sex, and that was fine, but then I started to actually like you, and I didn't... I didn't know what to do with that. I'd never admitted it before – not to anyone – that I like men, too, and I... I let things get out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” Tony all but screamed. “I was prepared to die. I wanted you to be happy so fucking much, even if it was without me, that I literally wanted to just stop being. I had to listen to you talking about all the dates you'd had as you fucked me – as you ruined me for anyone else – and now, even fucking now, I want to just fucking forgive you and kiss your stupid face -”
The kiss, when Steve drew their faces together, wasn't really a kiss at all, so much as a mashing of mouths, and an exchange of tears and shuddering, gasping breaths.
“No,” Tony gasped, sobbed, as he pulled away after only a few moments. “No, you can't just... you can't just kiss me and expect everything to be all right, Steve, I... you can't do that to me.”
“Then what do I do?” Steve begged, breathing ragged in his chest. “Anything, Tony, I'll do whatever you want, I love -”
“Don't say it,” Tony hissed, sniffling. “Don't. It's not real.”
“It is,” he replied desperately. “It is, Tony, I promise, I – what can I do to make you understand? I -”
“You should have told me,” Tony snapped, scrubbing at his eyes with both hands. “If you really loved me, you would have told me – you would stop seeing Sharon -”
“I have stopped seeing her!”
That, at least, made Tony pause. “You – you stopped -”
“You think I was going to go on another date with her when I realised that my relationship with you – even if we never had sex again, even if we were just friends – was so much more important?” Steve asked. “Of course I stopped seeing her. Hell, even she had realised I had feelings for you before I did.
“I've been... so stupid,” he mumbled, suddenly bone weary, “and I understand if you never want to see me again – honestly, I'm still trying to figure out a way that I never have to look at myself again, either – but just... just know that I'm telling the truth. I'm in love with you, Tony Stark. I love you like I've loved no other person in this, or any other, world.” With that, he got to his feet. “I'll... I'm going to go. You need to rest, and I... I don't think I deserve your company right now.”
Sighing heavily, he shuffled back across the room – trying to hide his tears, now, because he didn't deserve to feel sorry for himself, either.
“Steve, wait.”
At the door – about to grab the handle – he paused, and looked back. “Yeah?”
Tony looked torn – a deep frown cutting into his forehead – as, scrubbing his eyes a final time, he gestured for Steve to come back over to him. “Don't go.”
Steve was back across the room in a matter of seconds, tentatively taking Tony's hand in his own when the genius held it out to him. He didn't think – didn't dare hope – because Tony obviously just didn't want to be alone right now, and -
“Lay with me?” he asked, uncertain, as he pulled Steve a little closer and threw the sheet covering him back. “Please?”
Steve went willingly, still unsure what was happening, and allowed Tony to tug him onto the tiny bed and position him how he wanted – basically, with Tony laying half on top of him – because he was certain, if he spoke, or did anything, this moment would be lost.
When they were settled comfortably – Tony's head resting against Steve's chest – the genius let out a tired sigh, and murmured, “I'm furious with you – I hope you know that.”
“I know,” he nodded, risking everything by reaching up to run his fingers gently through Tony's hair, and breathing a sigh of relief when the genius leaned into the touch. “You have every right to be. I treated you horribly.”
“You did,” Tony agreed, pausing. “So please, please don't make me look like a fool for taking you back.”
Steve stilled as his breath caught in his throat for a moment. “I – you -?”
“We've never actually done this,” Tony sighed quietly, as though he hadn't just agreed to give Steve a second chance. “Just cuddled. It was always a quick fuck, and then one or the other of us had somewhere to be. It's nice.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed, clearing the lump in his throat, “it is.”
“I... I love you, Steve,” the genius whispered, voice still heartbreakingly insecure, and that just wouldn't do.
“I love you too, Tony,” he replied, with as much conviction as he could muster. “So, so much.”