Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Quinjet looks out of place compared to the Wakandan airships. It can almost match the slickness in design; out in the field the Quinjet would be a sight for sore eyes, but here it stands out like a sore thumb with the Stark Industries logo painted on the hull. Glimmering in the setting afternoon sun, surrounded by T’Challa’s personel; readying it for the upcoming flight.

   Steve watches the ordeal take place down below. He’s leaning against a railing, a clear view of the runway outside. In no more than twenty minutes, he’ll board that very ship. In twenty minutes, he’ll be on his way back.

   Another warm day is coming to an end, Steve’ll miss this when he leaves. Wakanda is a different sort of warm than Steve’s come across in the past; not nearly as dry as Houston in the middle of summer nor the blazing Italian sun he faced during the war. This is the kind of humid warmth that seeps into the cracks of his uniform, through his skin and settles deep in his bones.

   Nothing like the brisk and cold of the New York winter, where every breath used to send spikes down his throat. Sometimes he misses it, most times he tries not to think about it.

   What feels like a lifetime has passed since the last time Steve set foot on American soil. Ever since he broke Sam, Clint, Wanda and Scott out of the Raft, he’s grown to accept the reality in which he never may be able to go back home again; that he may remain a fugitive for the rest of his life, no matter how much he wished differently.

   Deep down, he knew he’d done the same choices all over. If it meant bringing Bucky out of harm’s way and give him the chance to recover from HYDRA once and for all, he’d take the shot and end up here in every outcome. Yet, there was one thing that always would eat him up inside - one thing he wished would’ve gone down differently.

   One truth Steve had known for years, the one that split the team apart. The one truth that was never his to keep in the first place.

   The burner phone weighs nearly nothing as he slides it out of his pocket. The message residing on the display, however, carries the weight of the entire world. Steve has reread the words countless of times since the phone buzzed to life the day before after months of silence. At first, he could scarcely believe that it was true; after all this time, Tony had reached out.

   Losing Tony after Siberia felt a lot like Steve imagines losing a limb feels like: first the numbness seizing his entire being, unable to process the reality of what his life had turned into. Then phantom pain, a constant ache after something - someone that still felt so real and present by Steve’s side, but wasn’t. He stopped counting nights of how he woke up screaming, covered in sweat and trembling with Tony’s name dripping like a poison from his tongue after the tenth one. It always left guilt behind; thick and sour taste in his mouth, down his throat.

   Steve never expected Tony to use the phone. He gave up hoping a long time ago.

   Tony, as always, never did what others expected him to. The text wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to spark even the faintest thread of hope in Steve back to life. A second chance he hadn’t even been able to dream of getting; not since he smashed his shield down into Tony’s arc reactor, breaking his own heart in the process.

   Need you back at the compound. ASAP

   Steve flips the phone shut, releasing a shaky breath. He can’t stop touching the damn thing, dragging his thumb along the uneven surface. With Tony’s message, he feels closer to him than he’s done in months. Yeas.

   In a matter of hours, Steve’ll be face to face with him again. Face to face with what he left behind.

   ”So, I take duty calls then?”

   Steve’s lips turn upwards in the ghost of a smile, one that intensifies as he turns to see Bucky leaning against the railing next to him.

   In between Bucky’s appointments with the very best of T’Challa’s medical staff, the brilliant princess Shuri’s tinkering on his new metal arm and simply coming to terms with being back into the world again, Steve’s barely been able to see his friend more than a moment here and there. He’s glad that Bucky’s getting all the help he needs and rightfully deserves, but he can’t stop thinking that he’s not doing enough. Steve’s as much at loss as Bucky is when it comes to certain things, what could he possibly provide to his friend other than his company that would do Bucky any good?

   Still, it’s good to see him up again; Bucky looks healthier than he’s done in a long time, with the long, brown hair falling around his face and the glint of serenity present in his eyes.

   ”Actually, duty sent a text,” Steve says, smiling with faint mirth when Bucky shakes his head and shoves at Steve’s elbow. He lets the phone slide back into his pocket.

   ”If this is what you call a joke nowadays, I should’ve stayed in cryo longer,” Bucky says, a hint of amusement showing in his eyes. ”Tasha said you’d gone dry while I was asleep, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

   Steve scoffs. ”I think you should stop taking everything Nat says so seriously, think it was a mistake to let you two work things out if you’re gonna team up on me.” He noticed rather quickly when Bucky came out of cryo that Natasha tended to stick around his friend’s room more often than not. From the way Natasha had spoken about Bucky in the past, Steve knew there was something of a shared history between the two of them; he’d never been fully aware of the extent of it until recently. Bucky’s smiling a lot more, how timid the smiles may be, and that’s enough for Steve.

   Bucky only snickers, gaze flickering between the runway and the workers milling around getting everything ready for the take off. Distance lingers in his expression as he scans the Quinjet, a line settling between his eyebrows. ”Back to New York?”

   Steve nods, fighting the urge to drag his fingers over where the old phone is stashed. Instead, he balls his hand loosely into a fist, keeping his feelings at bay. ”Yeah, Tony asked me to come back to the compound as soon as possible. Something’s happening, Buck, he wouldn’t reach out if that wasn’t the case.” Saying Tony’s name out loud sends an odd jolt of electricity down Steve’s spine. Not saying the name out loud for so long, he almost forgot the sound of his own voice when he says it.

   He misses Tony something terribly. Sometimes he misses him so much it feels like a physical ache inside; a wound that won’t heal and remains exposed and bloody, waiting to be poked at. Some wounds hurt more than others; one wound in the form of a single night, hurts in particular.

   Not that Steve could ever hide anything from Bucky back in the day. Bucky isn’t the same man as he was before the war, but he remembers enough about Steve to read between the lines.

   ”Whatever Stark wants, take your time. You don’t have to rush back on my account, okay? I’ve got everything I need here, Steve, I know you don’t want to hear it but I’ll be okay while you sort yourself out,” Bucky’s looking at him again, always blunt with his honesty in a way one can’t hide from. He’s right though, then again, he usually is. ”You’ll do more good there than here.”

   Steve smiles, a sad little thing that makes the blue of his eyes look like oceans. ”I know, Buck, I know.” Ever since Steve found out that Bucky’s alive all those years ago, he’s been worried about him. Stopping now, when Bucky’s in the safest place on Earth under the care of T’Challa and his brilliant sister Shuri, would be a good start to try.

   The matter at hand will need his full attention, that much he’s sure of. This is his chance to make sure that the rest of the team can get their redemption; both Clint and Scott haven’t seen their families in months. They’re both good at hiding their joint despair while out in the field, but it’s a completely different story when they’re back here at the base. Steve can barely look them in the eye anymore without having to swallow around the guilt in his throat, how it burns behind his eyelids.

   ”I’ll take Nat with me. She’ll know what to do”, Steve says, aiming for something lighthearted that ends up in the dust, on the verge of strained. Exhaustion runs so deep into him nowadays he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to feel truly at peace again; not when he’s plagued by the sound vibranium splitting metal every night in dreams. It wasn’t always like this. No, before the Accords, before the weight of the true nature of Tony’s parents’ deaths came into the picture, things were…good between Tony and him. After New York, they even became sort of friends.

   They didn’t see eye to eye on everything, far from it in fact, but they completed each other in. Out in the field, Captain America and Iron Man worked like a well-oiled machine, practically able to read each others minds. Steve had never felt like he couldn’t count on Iron Man to have his back; Tony Stark on the other hand, was a whole other deal altogether. Tony’s as frustrating and loud as he’s quiet and brilliant; he made Steve’s life difficult as much as he brightened it.

   Steve still isn’t sure the exact moment when the frustration grew into something else; something Peggy made him feel before he went into the ice. With Tony, barely anything could be pinpointed with certainty. Steve hasn’t stopped falling, he’s not sure if he ever will.

   ”Of course you will, she’s told me as much already,” Bucky says. He straightens, the sun catching the metal of his arm. His hand is a welcomed weight on Steve’s shoulder, reassuring and familiar; a flash of how they used to be. Before. ”I’ll let it slide this once, next time I might not be as understanding.”

   Steve feels another smile spread, tugging his lips upwards. It reaches his eyes even, no matter how faint. ”I’ll miss you, Buck. Take care of yourself while I’m gone, yeah?”

   Bucky squeezes his shoulder. ”I’ll miss you too, Steve. I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve has barely reached the stairs when Bucky calls after him. He turns, seeing how his friend still stands by the railing, not looking at Steve but down at the runaway. Bucky hasn’t even opened his mouth, yet Steve knows what Bucky’s about to say.

   He’s far from the only one carrying guilt around with him, after all.

   ”Tell Stark… tell him - tell him I’m sorry”.

   Steve wants to say ”HYDRA used you, you couldn’t think for yourself”; he wants to say ”Tony’s a good man, he’ll understand that you were under their control”; he wants to say ”It was my fault for keeping the truth from him for so long. I fucked up.”

   ”It wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

   Bucky tries to smile, it falls flat and strained around the edges. He looks as old as Steve feels. ”I know, Steve. Doesn’t change the fact that it was my finger pulling the trigger, or my hand squeezing her neck. Tell him I’m sorry.”

   Breathing feels tough; every breath sounds shallow and forced. There’s a wetness forming around the brim of Steve’s eyes, he wipes it away before it becomes something too real to handle.

   ”I will.”

Steve passes Natasha on his way down to the runway. She doesn’t say anything, only nods in his direction.

   He doesn’t turn to watch her go.

*~*

T’Challa, Bucky and Shuri are at the runway when the Quinjet takes off. Steve watches them through the window until they’re nothing more than tiny spots blending in with the background. The royal home, the whole capital of Wakanda becomes smaller and smaller until they’re well above the clouds, only seeing the ground below in patches of breathtaking green and rocky mountains.

   Natasha and Clint are bickering by the controls, taking the two pilot seats for themselves. They mended things between rather quickly after Clint got out of the Raft; then again, they never had any bad blood for each other in the first place. Only circumstances forced them to be on opposite sides after all.

   Watching them fills Steve with a sad sort of nostalgia. They’ve been out on missions during their stay in Wakanda, off the record, but it’s not the same as it used to be before the Accords. Steve tries not to think about red and golden armour, brown eyes and cultural references that flew over his heard more often than not. He tries not to think about how Tony once fell asleep against his shoulder after a particularly draining mission with a hostage situation that left them all in various degrees of shambles, how Tony acted like it never happened when he woke up half an hour later.

   Steve tries not to think about how mesmerised he’d been to see Tony without his guard up, only the human behind the eccentric facade. How much he wanted to lean closer, wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him until the frown disappeared completely from Tony’s face.

   He should’ve known then that it was hopeless to fight it. No matter how much he’d tried to stop himself from feeling over the past few years, Tony remained as the one, constant thing that shook Steve’s existence by the very core.

   On his good days, he remembers the way Tony’s face would light up when he thought something was even mildly interesting; the sound of his laugh when Steve had said something funny; the passion in his voice when he talked about his latest experiments or told Steve about the adjustments he’d done to his suit. On the bad days, he remembers Tony’s look of sheer and utter panic as Steve slammed the shield down; the betrayal and overwhelming hurt in Tony’s voice when he’d shouted at Steve to leave the shield behind, how Steve no longer deserved it; how Tony’s eyelashes had fluttered close, his breath warm and heavy against Steve’s skin that night when they almost kissed.

   Steve shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He can’t linger on the past now, not when he needs to be sharp and ready to tackle the now once they get back to New York. There’s no gain to be found in reliving a kiss that didn’t even happen, no matter how much Steve wishes it did. He can dream about it all he want, it won’t change anything.

   Does Tony remember that night? Does he even think of Steve -

   A shaky breath escapes his lips. He massages his temple, pieces of memories flashing by in his head quick enough to leave him in a daze. Leaving Wakanda to meet with Tony is the right thing to do; in case there’s a storm coming, all of them needs to be prepared for it. Yet, having to face Tony again is bound to drag the past back into light, and not in a good way.

   He’s tired of running. If he’ll ever be able to move on, he needs to confront his past head on and accept the consequences of his actions. The traitorous heart of his aches; aches for the future he wanted to spend with Tony, still wants to spend with him. He doesn’t know how he’ll react once they’re in the same room again. With Tony, he can never be sure of anything.

Steve remains by the window. He gazes down at the sea, how effortlessly they soar through the sky without making much noise at all. The quiet inside the Quinjet is palpable enough to gain physical form; Wanda’s leaning back in her seat, eyes closed and expression leaving out any sort of emotional turmoil. She’s not asleep assuming her breathing is anything to go by, unlike Scott who’s slumped down a few seats away from her, head hanging forward in an angle that’s bound to make his neck hurt like hell when he wakes up; Sam mirrors Wanda’s stance, but compared to Wanda there’s a visible tension in his shoulders, the way his face’s graced by deep lines.

   The rustling of Steve’s uniform and his boots hitting the floor causes both Sam and Wanda to look in his direction. He gives a small nod in acknowledgement, showing that there’s no need to be alarmed. Their gazes are on him as he stops between Natasha’s and Clint’s seats, arms spread over the backrests.

   ”Something on your mind, Rogers?” Clint says, stretching his arms out over his head. A bone pops in his elbow.

   Things were strained between Clint and him in the beginning. In hindsight, when everything was said and done, Steve doesn’t blame him for distancing himself from the whole matter. He don’t have a family of his own, he can’t even begin to fathom how tough it must be to be away from them for such a long amount of time.

   ”Try to contact the compound. See if we can make some stops along the way.”

   ”Aye, aye,” Clint does a small mock-salute, while Natasha sighs over his antics. Steve doesn’t mind it; he’s only grateful that Clint can find it in him to joke around with Steve again, like they used to do before.

   It only takes half a minute or so to establish a working channel with the compound. Within seconds a notice flashes over the screen that the channel turned private, encrypted from the other side. Hopefully it’ll keep Ross from interfering and arresting the lot of them when the Quinjet lands. Quite frankly, Steve’s too tired to worry about what Ross could do to them at this point.

   He’s broken his team out of prison once; he’d do it again if he had to.

   ”Anyone listening? This Uber has a few questions about the pick-up point,” Clint says.

   A dry snort comes from the other end. One Steve could recognise anywhere.

   ”Relax, Legolas. The channel’s secure. If this is your idea of a prank call, it’s kind of the worst attempt I’ve come across. Absolute disgrace is what it is.”

   ”Tony,” Steve injects before Clint can come with a snide retort. ”Are you sure Ross won’t overhear?”

   ”I encrypted it myself, Cap. Give me some credit, will you? What do you want?”

   Steve hates how he can’t see Tony’s face while he talks. There’s only so much he can pinpoint in Tony’s voice from hearing him alone. He sighs. ”What’s the deal? How long will Ross stay off our backs?”

   ”You got a day, starting the moment the Quinjet touches the ground. Also set up so Barton and the new guy can visit their families while you’re here. Took me a lot of arguing to get Ross to even consider letting you back into the country I might add, not that any of this fucking mess will matter soon anyway. I feel like a round of ”thank yous” are in order.”

   A day is not a lot to work with. There’s a lot of issues to cover in such a short amount of time. Steve is in no position to complain. He can only imagine what sort of troubles Tony must’ve gone through to make this a possibility, and for that he’s grateful.

   ”Thank you, Stark,” Clint says, every ounce of frustration and hurt dimmed until only crumbs remains. ”Scott and I appreciate it.”

   ”Don’t mention it, Barton. Sure your family will be happier to see your face than I will.”

   Clint snorts, sharing a knowing glance with Natasha. ”You got that right, tin can.”

   ”Anything else?”

   Steve shakes his head before he remembers that Tony can’t see him. He clears his throat, letting his hand rest on the nape of his neck while he wrecks his brain after anything else to say. Coming up empty-handed or with issues that could be discussed once they meet face to face, Steve says the only thing that’s deemed to fit. ”No. Thank you, Tony. I -”

   ”Got to go, bye.”

   The connection goes out abruptly, only a trace of static left behind.

   Steve stares at the control panel, determined in his belief that his stare alone can bring the channel to reconnect. Technology however, remains one step ahead of Steve and he turns away with a sigh. The knot in his chest has grown and tangled itself with his nerves, filling him with worry. What if Tony might be distant when they meet? Judging by the shortness of the call, his worry isn’t misplaced.

   ”Good to know that Stark hasn’t lost his sense of humor at least,” Clint mutters, shutting off the communication device entirely. ”I’m not in the least bit sorry to sit this talk out.”

   Steve sighs. ”Keep us out of trouble, I’ll worry about Tony.”

Sam watches Steve slide into the seat beside him, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. ”Who would’ve thought that we’d get a 1st class ride straight back to the compound a year ago, huh? Is it just me or does this feel really fucking strange to you too?” He’s barely louder than a whisper, yet his voice sounds loud in the quiet space. Natasha and Clint have both gone quiet again; Scott’s still sound asleep, and now Wanda seems to have joined in on it too.

   ”Tony’s not asking us to come back because he wants us to be there,” Steve leans his head back against the headrest. The call with Tony left a tension in his shoulders that he can’t shake, along with the increasing worry in his chest. The bitterness in his tone leaves a sour taste in his mouth. ”If the circumstances were different, then maybe…”

   ”If the circumstances were different, we wouldn’t even be here in the first place,” Sam finishes without much satisfaction.

   Steve nods. ”Exactly. Whatever Tony wants to tell us, it won’t be anything good.”

   Laughing quietly, Sam ducks his head to look at his clasped hands. ”Nothing that involves either of you ever is.”

   ”You got that right,” Steve agrees with a quiet chuckle of his own.

   Sam places a steady hand on Steve’s shoulder, so alike Bucky’s gesture from earlier. ”Dude’s got the right to be pissed, but he won’t avoid you forever. Him reaching out like this? That’s a step in the right direction, even though it can be about the world ending for all I know. You’re the most stubborn person I know, he won’t stand a chance if you decide to wait for him to come to you.”

   A rush of gratitude runs through Steve over Sam’s words. Where Bucky’s blunt, Sam’s reassuring, yet unafraid of calling Steve out on his bullshit. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone as Sam in his life.

   ”What would I’ve done without you, Sam?” he says, looking at his friend with a tiny smile.

   ”You’d crash and burn probably,” Sam doesn’t even skip a beat. ”Your old fanbase would probably have a joint cardiac arrest if they knew about how you are behind closed doors.”

*~*

”Do you think Rhodes’ still at the compound?”

   Steve glances at Sam, catching the full meaning of the rough lines gracing Sam’s features. Of course Sam’d been thinking about Rhodey. Even though the colonel had contacted Sam a few months after the fight in Leipzig, reassuring him that he didn’t blame Sam for what happened, Sam still carried around the guilt of coming out of the fight unharmed.

   ”I think so, yeah,” Steve says.

   ”Good,” Sam breaths, some tension fading from his shoulders. ”He’s probably tired of hearing my apologises by now, but the guy got to prepare hearing one in person as well.”

   ”You know he doesn’t blame you, right?” Now it’s Steve’s turn to place a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. ”It could’ve been you in his place, he knows that.”

   Sam offers him a sheepish smile, one lacking any sort of mirth. ”I know. Doesn’t make the guilt any easier to carry, though. Maybe seeing in person what happened to him will help me deal with it all.”

   Steve wonders how much Sam thought about his friend Riley when he saw Rhodey go down. He only saw pieces of the encounter, a tiny figure falling through the sky, chased by a red and golden figure and the Falcon from different directions. Finally being out of Ross’ hands had been too good of a chance to get to Siberia and put an end to Zemo’s schemes, even though Steve had wanted to do nothing more than to the turn the Quinjet around and make sure that everyone was okay.

   He blamed himself for not reaching out to Bucky in time when he saw him fall from the train. What Sam’s going through, Steve’s been dancing the very same dance before.

   ”Rhodey’s tough. It’ll take more than a fall from the sky to break him.”

   Sam only smiles meekly in return.

*~*

When they finally reach American border, Steve’s unable to keep himself still. He paces around the ship, going through every possible scenario he can come up with about why Tony’s summoned them back to the States. Every possibility is worse than the previous one; some of them ends up with Steve’s immediate capture, while others end up connected to Tony’s talks about a coming alien invasion. Steve’s witnessed Tony’s paranoia about the matter up close, even though he’s never understood the very extent of it himself.

   He used to think of it as a nightmare Tony carried around with him at all times; nothing Steve should be taking too seriously. After all these years, he still didn’t know for sure what Tony had seen inside of the wormhole; stupidly enough, he’d never taken the time to make Tony explain in detail.

   No wonder why the Avengers ended up the way they did. If Steve had taken his time to hear everyone out, maybe they wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Not that Tony ever gave him much of a chance to get close enough to find out just how serious Tony’s fears were. They both could’ve done so much more; yet, Steve still fell in love with the few glimpses he got to see.

   His frustration about Ultron made him distance himself in hopes to deal with the particular mess inside of him that carried Tony’s name. Losing himself in his search for Bucky, travelling all over the world chasing the ghost story Natasha spoke so fondly of; by the time Steve got back on his feet, with faint understanding of Tony’s reasons behind Ultron, he’d fallen even deeper in love in with Tony. He got closer to him, slowly learning more about the man behind the myth; then Accords happened. Over the span of a week, Steve’s life turned upside-down; his relationship to Tony blown to bits before it even had the chance to become something.

   He still haven’t fully grasped it yet, two years later.

Before heading to the compound, the Quinjet goes on a cross-country trip to drop Scott off with his family in San Fransisco. Scott’s already running down the ramp before it’s fully touching the ground, mirroring the antics of a little girl on the outside; they meet by the end of the ramp, Scott scooping up a laughing Cassie in his arms and spinning her around, his laughter mixing with hers.

   Steve can’t help smiling at the sight of happy his teammate is to be home. He breaks inside simultaneously, because tomorrow they’ll take Scott away from Cassie again; not even being able to make her any promises of when he’ll be able to come home again.

   ”I’ll call when we’re in the neighbourhood,” Steve calls out after the retreating pair. ”Don’t do anything reckless!”

  ”I won’t, see you guys tomorrow,” Scott retorts with a wave, his other arm curled around his daughter. A woman with bright, red hair comes to join them, one who Steve faintly remembers to be Scott’s ex-wife.

   By the time the ramp’s up, the trio’s already gone.

Another hour down the line and they’re landing on the field behind the Barton homestead. Steve’s still not 100% sure where they are, everything blends into one, green mess around these parts with the soaring fields and lush forests. Natasha knows the way, that’s what matters.

   Similar to Scott, Clint’s also welcomed by running kids. Steve spots Laura standing on the porch by the house, cradling the newest addition to the Barton clan in her arms. Nathaniel is a lot bigger than the last time Steve saw him, at least a few years old by now. When Laura places him on the porch, the boy’s off towards where his dad’s surrounded by his older siblings as fast as his tiny legs can carry him.

   Natasha waves to them all, offering the family a genuine smile that makes her eyes glow. She’s standing next to Steve, watching the whole ordeal take place with clear amusement. ”I wish we wouldn’t need any of them,” she sighs, quiet enough for only Steve to hear her. ”They don’t deserve to be dragged back into this mess.”

   ”I wish that too, Nat,” Steve agrees. His heart will keep breaking as he thinks about how these kids will have to say goodbye to their father in the morning; it won’t stop breaking until he’s made sure to get both Clint and Scott back home again, free from further duty.

   When the ramp closes, along with it the disappearance of the Barton family, Steve wonders when he stopped wanting a family of his own. It used to be a dream of his when he grew up; meeting the right partner, getting married and having kids. The apple-pie with a white picket fence and a villa.

   His life couldn’t be more different than his childhood wishes. An old mind exceeding the years of his body, living each day as it would be his last. He knew what he wanted; no more villas or picket fences. More late night walks down to a workshop, the smell of oil and a pair of deep, brown eyes that could read Steve like an open book.

   Steve just doesn’t know how to make it a reality.

*~*

Vision waits by the landing pad.

   It’s late spring; the forest surrounding the compound is green and full of life, flowers seeking refuge in the outskirts, hidden by the trees. The air is not as humid here as in Wakanda, but the surroundings are then again nearly not as beautiful either.

   Tony isn’t there.

   Wanda is the first to rush down the ramp, towards where Vision’s waiting. She’s been awake for most of the last hour or so, quietly studying Steve pacing around on deck. Not much was said after they left Clint back with his family; everyone dealt with coming back to the compound on their own, more so than others.

   Vision greets her with a hug. There’s no hesitation in either of their movements; they embrace each other like they’ve longed for it, Wanda burying her face against Vision’s shoulder and holding onto him like he was the sole thing keeping her grounded.

   ”I’ve missed you so much, I’m sorry,” Steve hears Wanda say while he follows Natasha and Sam down the ramp, intending to join the pair. Proof of another pair caught in the fire of stupid mistakes; forced to pick sides and ending up against each other, despite their own wants and needs.

   ”What happened is not your fault, Wanda. We all made mistakes, I shouldn’t have kept you here against your will.”

   Vision looks at Wanda like she’s his entire world. It feels like Steve and the others are intruding when they reach the pair; Steve stares off towards the compound, searching after signs of anyone else being present.

   The building silently gapes at him with its thick walls and bulletproof windows. Not much have changed since he left; the grounds are as clean as ever, neatly cut grass and blank enough windows to show their reflections. Not a soul in sight.

   He knew the ins and outs of this place like the back of his hand; even after being away for so long, it still feels like home. Despite what he wrote in that letter to Tony, the compound (the Avengers) would always feel like home.

   ”Vision,” Steve says, extending his hand for Vision to shake.

   Vision, still with one hand on Wanda’s back, takes it without hesitation. His hand’s warm against Steve’s. ”Captain Rogers, it’s good to see you again. Same goes for you two, too,” he adds, offering a light nod to both Natasha and Sam.

   ”You haven’t changed a bit,” Sam comments, giving Vision a once-over. ”Man, I feel old.”

   Chuckling dryly, Vision gestures for them to follow him inside. ”One of the perks of not ageing like a human. Colonel Rhodes finds it most aggravating, to say the least.”

   Pebbles crunch beneath their feet. Steve’s not sure where to put his hands. ”How you’ve been? How’s.. - everything?”

   ”Thankfully, feelings don’t work the same for me as they do for you,” Vision says, the faintest hint of pity in his eyes. Sometimes he makes it so easy to forget that he’s not human, ”nonetheless, it’s been tough. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”

   Steve doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He already knows what Vision’ll say. A lot can happen in two years; some wounds can heal. Others? Not so much.

   Wanda slides her arm around Vision’s. ”Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it. Together.”

   A reminder of a different time. The workshop, back at the Tower. Ultron had just escaped; Steve’s furious. Can’t understand how Tony could keep something as massive as Ultron from him; weren’t they supposed to be a team? To trust each other? He’d pushed buttons then, playing a game that would end up exploding in his face a year down the line.

   Tony hadn’t believed in it then. How could he possibly believe in it now?

*~*

The compound hasn’t changed a lot inside either. Vision guides them down familiar corridors, passing empty rooms that used to hold so much life. No new faces; not even any old ones, only the sound of their joint steps echoing through the still space.

   They end up in their old conference room.

   Same chairs, same table. No stack of papers. No Ross.

   ”Mr Stark will be with you in a moment,” Vision informs, gesturing that they all should take a seat. ”It’s been good to see you all alive and well, but if you excuse me, I have to get back to my patrol.” He leaves with the promise of returning later, when he’s off duty. Wanda follows his retreating form with her eyes, something raw and undeniably alive shining in her eyes.

   With his departure, the room falls into a tensed silence. Being back here brings back memories; not just for Steve, but for all of them. He feels like an exposed nerve; all of his worry visible on the outside, lingering on top of his skin. Conflict, a whirlwind of emotions all trying to take control at the same time.

   Steve wishes he was as good as Natasha to hide what he feels. Her face’s blank, with the exception of her eyebrows being slightly furrowed together. He has no idea what goes beyond her mask.

   When Rhodey comes into view, opening the door and sliding inside with practiced ease, it stirs the room back into action. From afar, it’s hard to notice that the accident even happened; up close, the braces around his legs become visible, even though they’re dark enough to blend in with the fabric of his pants.

   Tension visibly deflates from Sam’s shoulders at the sight of Rhodey being up and walking around; almost like he didn’t fall out of the sky two years ago. Steve, on the other hand, isn’t sure what to make of the knot in his chest from seeing the braces; guilt stands out, it always does.

   When it comes down to it, he’s one to blame for what happened.

   ”I know what you’re wondering and no, it’s nearly not as bad as it looks,” Rhodey gestures to the braces. He’s smiling. A little bit sad, but at least it’s free from anger and hurt. ”You kind of get used to them after awhile. I’m practically as good as new, thanks to Tony.”

   Natasha rises to her feet, she’s over by Rhodey’s side in no more than a second. ”You never catch a break, do you?” She aims for a handshake; Rhodey has other plans, pulling her in for a brief hug that manages to crack her collected facade with surprise.

   ”These bad boys, if you excuse my horrible phrasing, aren’t a walk in the park,” Rhodey offers, warmth seeping into his smile. ”Never been one to sit anything out, this ain’t different.”

   Natasha only shakes her head, stepping back to give Sam and Wanda the chance to come and greet Rhodey properly. Sam jumps on the opportunity; he’s shakes Rhodey’s hand, his other hand resting on Rhodey’s elbow.

   ”Do you have any idea of how much of a sight for sore eyes you are right now? Damn, Rhodes, walking around in here like a dream,” Sam says in complete and utter awe, ”I know, I’m a broken record repeating the same thing over and over, but man, I truly am sorry. If I hadn’t dodged, then you’d be fine. Would’ve been better that way.” Sam sounds so earnest; through his words, it shows just how much he’s been battering himself up over this since it happened. Maybe even believing in his own words; that it would’ve been better if Sam himself had gone down instead of Rhodey.

   Steve’s about to tell him that Sam being hurt wouldn’t have been any better, but Rhodey beats him to it. ”Stop it, Wilson. I’ve flown hundreds of missions for the government that could’ve ended the same way as that one did. If it hadn’t happened that day, then it would’ve happened some place else, some other time. You know I’m not blaming you for what happened, just as little as I’m blaming Vision for firing that beam in the first place.”

   Always the voice of reason.

   Sam only nods, too stunned with Rhodey’s honesty to form any proper words. He tugs Rhodey into a quick hug, muttering something that sounds a lot like ”tough son of a bitch” under his breath that brings out a chuckle from Rhodey.

   Steve’s hovering by other side of the table, unsure if he should make a move or not.

   Out of the four of them, Steve’s the one that hurt Tony the most. They hurt each other, over and over in the worst possible ways. Rhodey and him might’ve been out on a few missions together years ago, when Rhodey was free from his military duties, but the trust they shared was only a breath in a hurricane compared to what Rhodey had with Tony. They’ve known each other for so long, that’s bound to mean a lot for both of them.

   Steve takes a breath. He steels himself for the worst and heads over to where the others are hudled together. Relief washes through him when Rhodey extends a hand, one Steve takes without hesitation. ”It’s good to see you doing so well, Colonel,” he says with every ounce of warmth he can muster; still, he feels like his guilt bleeds into his words, as if he has no right to be happy about Rhodey’s recovery.

   Of all the enemies he’s faced through the years, his own mind will always be the worst one.

   ”Captain,” Rhodey says, expression guarded. He studies Steve’s face, searching after something Steve isn’t sure if he can give him. Without saying anything else, he pulls his hand away, leaving Steve bound to do the same.

   The door clicks shut.

   Fingers tapping, followed by a snicker lacking any sort of mirth.

   Steve snaps his head instantly in the direction of the door. Breath hitching in his throat, his face melting into something soft, he’s so warm yet trembling all the same; Tony’s right there. He’s not looking at Steve.

   No loud proclamations announcing his arrival. No snide remarks; Tony’s just there, plain and simple, looking like he hasn’t slept at all over the last two years with the dark circles around his eyes. Instead of taking control of the entire room directly as he used to do, his arrival sucks out the air from it.

   ”Tony,” Steve says quietly, a reflex still so deeply rooted into his being. He wants to go over to him, wrap his arms around Tony and hold him close. Fighting the impulse is much harder than expected.

   Tony flickers his gaze upwards, away from the table and onto Steve for the briefest of moments. Something so raw, so unguarded flashes in Tony’s eyes, knocking the air out of Steve’s lugns.

   It’s gone in a flash, hidden behind the smile Tony uses when he deals with the press. Like this doesn’t mean anything to him. Steve has to believe it does, he needs to. There’s so much he wants to say, but he’s incapable to say any of it.

   ”Dropping the kids off at daycare went well? Ross wouldn’t accept a longer stay, so if they have any complaints, take it up with him and not me. Don’t shoot the messenger, only the sender, whatever.”

   He leans against the table, as far away from Steve as he can be.

   Natasha rolls her eyes. The grin on her lips tells a different story. ”Both Clint and Scott sends their thanks, but I doubt they’ll send you any extra cards for Christmas if that’s what you think.”

   Tony holds his hand over his heart, mouth agape. ”And here I thought I was doing something nice, tsk tsk, how wrong of me to assume such a thing,” he drops the act, dragging a tired hand over his face instead, peering at Natasha from behind his fingers. ”For a moment there I didn’t recognise you with all the blonde you got going on, Romanoff. Does blondes truly have more fun, that’s why you left the red behind?”

   Natasha shakes her head, still smiling. ”Good to see you too, Stark.”

   Tony manages to smile at her in return. He keeps his gaze on Natasha, not showing any sign of being bothered by how Steve keeps looking at him from the side. Steve can’t believe he’s actually there.

   ”Wilson,” Tony nods to Sam, offering a mock-salute. ”Maximoff.”

   ”Tony -” Steve says.

   Tony throws his hand up, cutting Steve off. He still isn’t looking at him; by this point, Steve’s sure that Tony’s probably avoiding him on purpose. ”Great that you all could get here so fast. Ross’ been a severe pain in the ass lately, but I didn’t ask you to come because of that douchebag. Something’s happening. Something really, really bad.”

   A stone makes it way through Steve’s throat. Reaching his stomach, it grows wider and wider until it takes up everything, a deep worry and something close to fear spreading through him like a wildfire. His mouth feels dry when he speaks. ”What’s about to happen?”

   Tony taps at the tablet. The room’s suddenly filled with blue, holographic images; diagrams, statistics, heaps of information, blurry photos of unexplained phenomenas in the sky; six, tiny stones in different colours being in the centre of it all. Infinity stones, as Tony’s written above their pictures; one that looks a lot like the Tesseract. Nothing that makes any sort of sense, but comes off as disturbing nonetheless.

   ”So, remember the alien invasion I’ve been trying to tell you about? I have reasons to believe it’s going to happen; if it’s not already debuting, it’s happening soon. And we need to be ready when it does.”

*~*

As the meeting progresses, the past two years and the present become almost painfully clear. Ever since New York, Tony’s been trying to tell the Avengers about the threats circulating out in the universe; Steve never believed in any of it, he was too busy with finding a place in the world, and then with Bucky in the picture, his sole focus had been on keeping the world safe and finding his friend again.

   Tony, on the other hand, has worked tirelessly for years, trying to prepare the world for what’s out there. He’s cleaned up mess after mess; when Steve left in Siberia, and later on also broke the others out of the Raft (certain images of the facility leaked to the public, it’s been closed ever since), Tony’s been the only one there to clean up the messes. Ross’ hounded him around, breathing down his neck and demanding answers more than once. That he’s managed to do anything at all with how much Ross’ kept Tony on a leash is nothing short of a miracle.

   Steve’s aware of it to some extent. He’s kept an eye on Tony and things back home while he’s stayed in Wakanda; thanks to the internet, and Tony Stark being one (if not) of the most famous people on the planet, Steve’s had no problems with following the debates around both the Avengers and the Accords. Hearing from Tony first hand about what he’s been through over the last few years, does put it into a whole different perspective though. Tony’s worked day and night to make the Accords reach some kind of improvements, all while helping Rhodey with his recovery and preparing for the inevitable battle that’s now right on their doorstep.

   If they only would’ve listened straight away.

   Steve can’t help but feel powerless as he flickers through the images of grainy skies, blurry ships caught with mobile cameras. Loki’s invasion along with the chitauri had been one thing; by the looks of it, this won’t be nearly as centered and easily dealt with.

   They need to be spread out; ready to protect those who can’t protect themselves. It’s a task larger than life; one that leaves Steve beaten from simply thinking about the stakes they’re up against.

   He’s not the only one to be taken aback by the severity of the situation. Natasha has settled by the table, her expression turned into something grim; gone is the blankness, succumbed to the fear brewing in all of them.

   Wanda’s pale as a ghost. She keeps looking at Tony, her dark eyes full of guilt that Steve has no idea as to what it means. Did this have something to do with the visions she made them see while she worked under Ultron? What exactly did Tony see under her influence? Steve’s never shared what he saw, at least not with Tony, and he’s pretty sure Tony’s never shared his fear with him either.

   ”T’Challa knows about all of this already. I briefed him a couple of months ago, we’ve worked together to try and gather as much information as we could about the stones and what they’re used for. There’s still so much we don’t know, it makes me want to smack my head against a wall.”

   Steve’s throat full of needles. He leans forward, propping his head up against his hands. If he could, he’d hide away from the world for a few hours; just go get his spinning head under control enough to process everything.

   ”What about Thor? He may know more about the stones. Isn’t his father supposed to be all-knowing or something?” Natasha asks, glancing around at the others.

   Tony shakes his head. ”Haven’t heard from him in years. Not since Ultron. He’s not the easiest guy to get in contact with, pretty sure he doesn’t own a phone nor a computer. Can’t exactly send a dove after him when he’s probably not even on the same planet as us anymore.”

   ”Nothing from Banner either?” Natasha continues.

   ”He’s not picking up his phone, hasn’t been for the last few years, so we can’t count on him showing up any time soon either. Shouldn’t you know that, Romanoff? Weren’t the two of you sort of a thing back before he disappeared?”

   Natasha goes still. Her glare is poisonous, almost physically painful to be on the receiving end of. Tony doesn’t even look bothered by it. ”Things change.”

   ”Okay, alien invasion, that’s just fucking terrific,” Sam throws his hands up, briefly, before lowering one to massage the back of his neck. The tension is back in his shoulders, forcefully so. ”What’s the plan? How can we tackle something like that?”

   Tony leans against the table, arms spread wide. In the light from the holograms, he looks almost magical. ”All of you’ll head back to Wakanda tomorrow. T’Challa and I have reasons to believe that one of the attacks will be centered on Wakanda, so they’ll need all the help they can get. Vision’ll come too, same goes for Rhodey. I’ll stay here in New York.”

   Steve frowns in disbelief, brows bumping together in a scowl. ”You can’t stay here and protect New York on your own, Tony. That’s a death wish bound to happen.”

   Tony meets his gaze then with force. He doesn’t budge, the intensity of his stare is enough to make Steve feel like he’s been burnt. So much hurt. Enough to drown in. ”I’m not the one who’ll fight down at the front, that’ll be you, Captain. And, for the record, I won’t be alone. Spider-Man’ll be around; it’s New York for fuck’s sake! I just have to walk down street and run into at least five masked vigilantes before I’ve reached the next intersection. It’s not like I’ll be defenceless.”

   It’s not even close to reassure Steve of Tony not being in ay immediate danger. What is it with Tony and always throwing himself head-first into these sort of things? Can’t he see how everything would crumple without him?

   ”Vision has one of the infinity stones. I can’t protect him here, it’s safer for him to go with you to Wakanda. And Rhodey - sorry for talking about you like aren’t here buddy, but I’ve heard about the technology the princess posses. She can do things I can’t, like getting Rhodey back to 100%”.

   Rhodey places a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing it. ”You’ve done more than enough, Tones. Wouldn’t be here without you, buddy.”

   A small smile spreads across Tony’s lips in response. ”Once you’re better, you can come back here and kick some serious ass with me.”

   ”I’m counting on it.”

By the time the meeting reaches some kind of end, they’re all in various states of exhaustion. Rhodey and Sam take off together, their voices bouncing against the walls while they walk towards the kitchen. Wanda’s lost in her thoughts, rocking her chair back and forth as best as she can; Natasha’s about to say something to Steve when Tony clears his throat, staring at the door Rhodey and Sam just left through.

  ”May have cleaned out your rooms a bit while you all were away. Still good to use, though. Vision’s really set on this idea to the turn the compound into a Bed & Breakfast establishment, so don’t break his heart by leaving before you’re tried his lasagne. Packs a mean punch, that lasagne. Not in a good way,” Tony’s flickering between the door and the table, the fight or flight response in him coming up to the surface. He’s so close. If he could just look at Steve, maybe it could stop making Steve feel like they’re still oceans apart. ”Well then, meeting concluded, whatever. The world won’t save itself.”

   He’s halfway to the door by the time Steve realises he’s leaving.

   It hasn’t even completely shut when Steve goes after him.

*~*

Tony isn’t running, but he could’ve fooled Steve by how quick he’s walking down the corridor. He doesn’t acknowledge that he’s aware that Steve’s following him; keeps looking straight ahead, not back at Steve.

   ”Tony,” Steve says, not loud enough for it to be a shout. His voice sounds loud in the narrow space; the urgency to make Tony listen even sounds desperate to his own ears.

   Tony isn’t looking at him.

   ”Tony, wait,” Steve picks up in speed, knowing where Tony’s headed. He could’ve walked through the compound with his eyes closed and still find his way down to Tony’s workshop. Nice have some things won’t change, even though the rest of the world does.

   ”Sorry, think you have the wrong number,” Tony states, taking the steps down to the workshop two at a time. Still not looking back. ”Think you’ve got me confused with someone who gives a damn, Cap.”

   ”Tony, just listen -” Steve calls out, but it’s in vain.

   The workshop’s door already closed when Steve’s down on the right floor. He doesn’t even have to try the handle to know what he’s locked out. Tony’s probably changed removed all of Steve’s personal codes since he left, restricting his access to the workshop among other things. Doesn’t mean standing out there, trying to catch a glimpse of the person inside through the darkened windows, hurts any less.

   The workshop is a different world; one Steve’s not allowed into anymore.

   ”Boss doesn’t want to be disturbed right now, Captain Rogers. You should probably go and wait with the others.”

   As on reflex, Steve squints up at the roof, like he used to do before he got used to hear JARVIS’ disembodied voice. Old habits die hard. ”Thanks for the heads up, FRIDAY,” he mutters, sighing over how frustrated he sounds. ”Any idea if he’ll want to see me before I leave?”

   ”Afraid not, Captain. He’s made it clear that you’re not allowed to come inside, so I suggest you wait it out somewhere a bit more comfortable than here.”

   FRIDAY’s right about that. There’s nothing outside of the workshop except for the staircase. Tony’s not known for quick sessions; if Steve’s lucky, there’s a chance Tony might resurface before the Quinjet’s due to leave in the morning.

   ”I fought in the war, FRIDAY. I’m used to worse conditions than these,” Steve sighs. The stairwell is not made for someone with his height to sit comfortable, he ends up with his back against the wall and his legs fitting in as best as they could. It’s not comfortable in the slightest; but, as he said. He’d dealt with much, much worse.

   ”It’s your call. I’ll tell you if Mr Stark changes his mind.”

   Steve leans his head back against the wall. Exhaustion weighing him down, along with the storm Tony’s sparked in him, he could probably sit here forever and still not feel rested enough to deal with all of this.

  ”Thank you, FRIDAY,” he says with a sigh.

Steve has no idea of how much time passes as he sits there in the stairwell, unable to bring himself to leave. His personal phone, the one which isn’t a damn flip phone that’s seen better days, keeps going off every now and then; he declines every call.

   The world can do without him for awhile. There’s only one person he needs to talk to, and he’s shielded from Steve. If Steve weren’t so intent on working things out, he’d be tempted to punch a hole in the wall and climb inside on his own accord. Tony would probably blast him into outer space, but at least Steve would’ve done something to resolve this mess.

   Out here, he’s left with nothing to do but to think. With a mind like his, constantly buzzing and gnawing away on hopeless scenarios, it’s not much of a comfort. He should be hungry, shouldn’t he? He haven’t eaten since they made a quick stop in San Francisco, after dropping Scott off with his family. There’s nothing. Not even an ache.

   The light went out after awhile. Steve kept waving his hand, keeping it lit with the help of the motion censors, but for the last hour or so he’s let it be. Completely left in the dark, with the exception of the faint glow around the keypad by the door, Steve knows he’s reached a whole new level of dramatic.

   The sort of drama that causes Tony to jump at the sight of him when he finally leaves the workshop, a lifetime later. He’s clutching his his hand over his heart, staring at Steve like he can’t believe this is really happening.

   ”Jesus fuck, Rogers. Way to give a guy a 1st class ticket to an early grave.”

   Steve can’t detect any anger. Only exhaustion. Deep, bone-rattling exhaustion. Then again, Tony’s always been good to keep things about himself hidden; things or feelings he didn’t want people to know.

   Steve stands up, limbs cracking from sitting down for so long. He feels too big all of a sudden, compared to Tony, who’s leaning against the wall a few steps down. Steve’s everywhere, stretched too thin. He shrugs sheepishly, once again not sure what he should do with his hands. ”You’ve avoided me since I got here.”

   Tony bites on the inside of his cheek. He’s not glaring, but it’s close. ”Yeah? You didn’t get the hint that I maybe didn’t want to talk to you? Do I need to tattoo it on my forehead or something to make you understand?” He keeps rubbing his hand over his his left elbow.

   Battling an alien invasion didn’t seem so bad compared to this.

   ”I just want to talk, Tony. I didn’t come here to fight you.”

   Steve’s tired. Tired of being on the run; tired of constantly fighting the world, Tony and himself at the same time. Can’t Tony see how much this has cost him, too? That he aches just as much for losing Tony that day as Tony pretends not to care about losing Steve?

   He wants so much. More than anything, he wants this to go right.

   Tony laughs, a bitter sound that’s wrong. It hurts to hear it. ”It’s kind of hard to believe you when you say stuff like that, you know? You kind of ruined my arc reactor and left me to rot in Siberia the last time we saw each other. Fighting’s always been the only thing we’re good at.”

   ”I know, just, I never meant for things to go that bad. With the Accords, Peggy’s death, Bucky - I couldn’t think straight. All I knew for sure was that I needed to help him, I never meant for the rest of you to get dragged into that mess as well,” Steve explains. Causing the team to fall apart is one of the things that hurts the most. They used to be a family. A dysfunctional one, but still a family. ”Leaving you behind that day is one of the toughest things I’ve ever done, Tony. There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t thought about that day and what I could’ve done to make things better.”

Tony crosses his arms, defiantly looking everywhere but at Steve. He looks so vulnerable like this, without his armour. So human. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there’s a person behind the suit. ”Why did you send the phone? Was it a part of your plan to make my life a living hell, or did you just make things up as you saw fit?”

   Wracking his fingers through his hair, he slams his eyes shut while trying to keep his frustation in check. He owes Tony an explanation, he really does, even though it’s like pulling of the scab on a wound, painfully slow. ”At the time it seemed like a good idea. The phone, I, well, was never meant to hurt you, I’m not good with words and that letter, I’m not proud of it, Tony. I could’ve phrased it better, but the end is still true. If you ever needed me, I’d be there.

   I never meant to hurt you, fuck - I wanted to keep Bucky safe, give him a chance at getting a normal life back after everything he’s been through, it was never my intention for you to get caught in the middle of my mistakes, Tony. Please, think of me as you please, but don’t think I’m lying to you now when I tell you that I never meant to hurt you.” He needs to try to make Tony understand; he needs him to understand why he did what he did back then, how he’s paid the price for his own mistakes a thousand times over since Siberia by simply existing; knowing that Tony was out there somewhere, cleaning up the mess Steve hade left him with, hating his guts.

  ”Get in line, Steve. Take a seat with the rest of the world that wants to screw me over,” Tony lets out a stuttering breath. He only stands there, looking so vulnerable as he drags his hands over his face, as to shield himself off from Steve. ”Before the shitstorm with the Accords, I would’ve believed you. Hell, Steve, you could’ve told me the sun shone out of your ass and I would’ve believed it. Give me a reason as to why I should believe you now.”

   In a heartbeat, Steve’s down on the same level as Tony. He moves without thinking, aware of every little change in Tony’s body language; how he’s more or less daring Steve to come to him. Tony’s staring straight at him with a need Steve’s all too familiar with, deeply rooted with the challenging tone in his voice.

   The shift happened so subtly, so sudden. Steve’s terrified it might slip out of his fingers.

   Mesmerised by how Tony’s biting down on his lip, so painfully open with how he feels, Steve steps closer. Tony’s cheek is warm under Steve’s touch, blazing even.

   ”I did what I did because I was selfish. I kept the truth about your parents because I wanted to keep Bucky safe, but also because I couldn’t bear hurting you by telling you what happened. I was so afraid of losing you, Tony, that my fear down the line was the thing driving us apart.”

   He fights to keep himself together; holding onto to Tony grounds him, his fingers trembling against Tony’s cheek. So much of his own turmoil can be found in Tony’s eyes; they’re close enough to share the same breaths, the same heat. ”I should’ve told you the truth about your parents, but it’s not the only thing I should’ve told you. I can’t give you a good reason as to why you should believe me now, only you can decide if you can trust me again or not.”

   Flickering and burning, the blaze in Tony’s eyes have only increased in strength. He tilts his head to the side, just enough to cause Steve’s fingers to slip down along the curve of his jaw.

   ”What’s the other thing you should’ve told me?”

   Shivers break out across Steve’s skin at the drop in Tony’s voice. Tiny, fleeting things travelling from his fingertips down to his toes. He inhales, yet the words still come out in a breathless mess. ”I’m in love with you, Tony. Have been for years.”

   With a shuddering breath, Tony leans into Steve’s touch. The circles around his eyes are dark enough to remind Steve of bruises, it distracts him from thinking too much about the confession that just left his mouth. He wonders when the last time Tony got a decent night’s sleep was; if it’s been years, like it’s been for Steve.

   ”Kiss me.”

   Steve blinks. ”Tony -”

   ”Kiss me.”

   One second they’re staring each other down, the next they’re pressed against the wall. Steve hooks his hands around Tony’s thighs, hoisting him up so Tony can wrap his legs around Steve’s waist. A breathless, faint moan drops from Tony’s lips as Steve lifts him up, and it’s enough for Steve to press closer. He steadies Tony with his own weight, taking everything he can and offering every piece of himself in return.Wanting more until there’s nothing left.

   Tony’s mouth consumes him. He has thought about this moment for so long, ever since that night, long before the Accords; how they both had been hanging out down in the workshop, here at the compound, in a daze after a successful mission; Tony with alcohol on his breath, carefree grin on his lips, Steve with adrenaline pounding beneath his breastbone. He’d been so close then, to ask if those longing glances Tony kept giving him meant something.

   Now, with Tony’s lips leaving a warm, sloppy trail along Steve’s throat, he wonders if he’d done it then - if he had leaned forward, how different would things have ended up? Would it have changed anything at all?

   Fingers entwine with the longer strands on the back of Steve’s head. Barely more than a faint grip, until Steve bites down on Tony’s bottom lip and gains both a whine and a tug at his hair in response.

   Tony kisses a lot like he works. Efficiently. Determinately. Mind-blowing in every way. Not without faults, yet Steve melts into it; nibbles and presses closer until there’s no space left; only Tony, and he consumes everything. Tony tastes of coffee when Steve slips his tongue into his mouth; the sounds they make, sending shivers down Steve’s spine; thousands of tiny, electric pulses.

    ”Workshop,” Tony’s breathless, ravished in a way that makes Steve curse against Tony’s lips. ”Ah - language, Cap.”

   Steve presses him up against the door of the workshop. Every tiny sound leaving Tony’s lips cause warmth to pool in the pit of Steve’s stomach. ”Better?”

   ”Stop being a damn smart ass, I can’t even reach the damn panel with all of your muscles in the way - fuck, FRIDAY, open the door.”

   ”Right away, sir.”

*~*

Moving through the workshop with Tony clinging to him, leaves a trail of things scattered on the floor in their wake. Tony laughs, breathlessly, against Steve’s lips when the third screwdriver clatters against the floor from Steve backing them into another one of Tony’s desks.

   They end up on the couch. Steve’s on his back, Tony’s on top of him, and the only thing Steve can think of is Tony Tony Tony. Straddling Steve’s waist, Tony’s a warm, heavy weight that drives Steve rightfully insane.

   ”You’re ruining me with that beard of yours, you know? Fuck, Steve.”

   Steve slides his hand up under Tony’s shirt, He drags his fingers down, along Tony’s ribs and dig into the skin; over scars that feels rough against his palms.

   ”I guess I shouldn’t shave it off, then?” Steve steadies himself by leaning on his arm; a tiny shift causing Tony to slide further down, settling on Steve’s stomach.

   ”God no, it suits you,” Tony kisses him again, mouth warm, wet and electrifying. ”Keep the beard, lose the uniform, you know what I’m saying?”

   Steve pushes at Tony’s shirt, as much as he’s able to with just one hand. ”Way ahead of you, Stark.”

   Tony complies, removing his shirt without much effort. He tugs at Steve’s uniform, unbuckling the straps and tugging at the sleeves. ”How much straps do you need to keep this thing in place? It’s like breaking into Fort Knox, and not in a exhilarating way.”

   Steve kisses him. He can taste the smile on Tony’s lips.

Tony remains on top of him.

   Every kiss is an absolution. His fingers dig into Tony’s thighs; Tony moves, up and down, each move so painfully slow it drags tiny gasps from Steve’s lips.

   Fluttering eyelids, dark eyelashes gracing over cheeks; Tony’s hauntingly beautiful, eyes closed and lips puffy and red from all the kissing and biting.

   Steve wants and wants and wants.

   Tony’s everywhere.

   Steve tugs him down, planting sloppy kisses along Tony’s jaw, his cheek, his lips.

   He breaths him in. In. In. Until there’s nothing left.

”We can’t sleep in here tonight,” Tony mumbles against Steve’s cheek. He’s so warm, sweaty skin sticking against Steve’s own. ”You’re leaving tomorrow, and with the whole invasion thing, this might be our only night together, so we’re not fucking sleeping on a damn couch when I have a king-sized bed two floors above us. That’d be, I don’t know, a whole other level of stupid.”

   ”So sleeping together after not seeing each other for two years isn’t stupid at all, or?” Steve jokes, sounding somewhat flat even to his own ears. ”Do you regret it?” he adds, cautiously, when Tony doesn’t answer.

   Tony’s so still against Steve’s body, if it weren’t for the fact that Tony’s hand kept moving around in circling patterns across his chest, Steve would’ve considered Tony to be asleep.

   When Tony is quiet, it’s deafening.

   ”No, I don’t,” Tony finally says, exhaling against Steve’s throat. ”I don’t regret a thing.”

*~*

The truth is something neither of them can run from. Comes with the job, really. Steve tries not to think of how he’ll go back to Wakanda in the morning and try to stop the world from going under. Without having Tony there at his side, like it used to be.

   This night truly could be the last night they have together. It breaks Steve apart.

   He dresses himself, strapping up the uniform, piece by piece. He can’t stop looking at him.

   Tony’s always one step ahead of him. They move through the compound side by side; Tony still manages to be ahead of him, if only by an inch or so. Steve would follow him anywhere, he knows that now. Straight into hell if he had to.

  Tony’s always been a leader. The glue that kept everything together.

   Hands trace over clothing. They can’t stop touching each other, not now, when they know what it feels like. No one’s out walking around, just the two of them.

  Tony’s room at the compound is one of the few rooms Steve hasn’t seen before.

   Unlike most of the Avengers, Tony used to visit the compound from time to time. When Pepper still was in the picture, Tony only came by when he had some new tech to show them, but after things became rockier between the couple, Tony’s visits became more and more frequent. He rarely stayed the night.

   The night when they had almost kissed was one of the few exceptions; Steve had walked Tony back to his room (it only was a corridor away from his own, after all) and wished him a goodnight. Tony waved him off with a tired grin, disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him quick enough to prevent Steve from getting a good view of the room.

   Something must’ve changed down the line for Tony to take up permanent resident here. Steve wonders when things went so askew; if Tony only moved here to try and keep what little remained of the Avengers together.

   He watches Tony now, leaning against the wall while Tony struggles to find the key.

   ”Do you ever think about that night?” Steve asks, curious to see if Tony even remembers it.

   Tony’s taken aback by the question, rubbing at his temples. ”You have to be a bit more specific here, Rogers. I wasn’t born yesterday, have plenty of good nights to choose from.”

   Steve taps the wall with his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how Tony wracks through his pockets for the 3rd time, still no sign of the key. ”A few years back, months after Ulton. We’d been out on a mission earlier during the day, stopping Dr Doom from ruining New York, the usual. We came here afterwards. You were a bit drunk, it’s okay if you don’t -”

   ”I remember,” Tony unlocks the door, the sobriety of his tone causing Steve to look at him. His eyes are darker here, so sincere it makes Steve’s heart stutter in his chest. ”God, I’ve never wanted anyone as much I wanted you that night. Even though you were a bit of a righteous prick, I wanted you. Still do.”

   Breathing gets hard; there’s a thickness in Steve’s throat he can’t swallow around. ”I thought I knew, but I didn’t dare myself to hope that you felt the same as I did.”

   Years have gone by. So much wasted time.

   Tony sighs. The world sighs with him. ”We were idiots. Scratch that, we are idiots. Massive idiots that fights and fucks things up constantly. You didn’t exactly give me any positive vibes, Rogers. More the opposite, in fact.”

   ”That’s because you drove me crazy on a daily basis,” Steve grins faintly, lifting his shoulder in half a shrug. ”At first it was annoying, then it wasn’t.”

   Tony looks at him funny, one hand still curled around the handle. Like Steve’s a puzzle Tony needs to solve before they can enter the room. ”We’re not the type of people that’s supposed to work together. Then again, I’m not the sort of person that works well with anyone, Pepper’s bound to agree with that -”

   Steve cups his hand around Tony’s cheek, gently trailing his index finger across Tony’s upper lip, down along his goatee.

   Everything about Tony’s magnetic; bound to pull him in any way possible.

   ”What you said before, how fighting is what we do best,” he lets his finger trail up over Tony’s cheekbone, enjoying how Tony presses into his touch, sending another wave of heat through him. ”I agree. We fight, a lot. Maybe we’re too different, but why should it matter? We solve problems, we’ve battled invasions and saved the world over and over. We’re good at a lot of things beside fighting.”

   Tony snorts, lips curling upwards. ”You’re a big fucking cheeseball, aren’t you? Behind all of that stubborn, tough-ass exterior you’re just a big softie.” He pushes the door open further with his shoulder, slowly moving into the room

   Steve follows him inside, closing the door behind them. ”Takes one to know one”

*~*

”Bucky’s out of cryo. He’s doing a lot better. And, he’s.. he told me to tell you that he’s sorry for what he did. He wants you to know that he wishes things would’ve gone differently.”

   Steve waits for Tony to pull away. A flash of anger, sorrow, anything at all that would tell that Steve had made a terrible mistake bringing up Bucky now when Tony’s willing to listen to him; a warm, solid weight in Steve’s arms.

   It doesn’t come.

   Tony rolls over, eyes glimmering in the dark. ”I know it’s not Bucky’s fault. I don’t blame him.”

   Steve releases a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding back. ”You don’t?” He can’t help but sound somewhat in disbelief; this can’t possibly be real.

   ”No, I don’t. I blame HYDRA, for brainwashing the guy and using him as a weapon in the first place. My.. Howard was stupid enough to carry the Winter Soldier serum without back-up, he’s as much at fault as HYDRA for being a reckless idiot that got mom killed,” Tony spits out Howard’s name like it’s the plague, while he goes tired and a lot softer at the mention of his mother, Maria. Steve hates it, how the man he knew to be so good in his youth could make his own child feel so miserable.

   ”I hate what Howard put you through,” he traces his fingers down Tony’s shoulder, mapping it out with great care.

   Tony chuckles bitterly. He turns so he’s on his back, tearing his gaze off Steve to stare up at the ceiling. ”What can I say? It’s not like I expect anymore that people aren’t out to hurt me, one way or another.”

   Steve sighs. He knows a jibe when he sees one. ”I’m sorry, Tony. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

   A warm hand cups around Steve’s cheek. Steve turns, enough to nuzzle his nose against the crook of Tony’s thumb, feeling the weight of the past few years coming down all at once.

   ”I know. I’m still angry at you that you didn’t tell me, because it’s a fucking stupid thing to do, but I hurt you too by going after Bucky. I’m not perfect, and neither are you. Shit, what I’m trying to say is that we fucked up, okay? With the Accords, everything, it was a complete shitshow from start to finish, and we’re far from done with dealing with that mess, but there’s an alien invasion about to happen so can we just save properly dealing with our traumas until that’s over with?”

   Steve can’t help but smile, hopelessly at how bleak this situation really is. God knows when he’ll be able to see Tony again once the Quinjet leaves in the morning.

   The world is so much bigger than the two of them, and it’ll have to come first. Like it always does.

   ”Okay,” he says, pressing a kiss against Tony’s palm. ”I can’t argue with that.”

   ”See? Pepper would be crying if she knew I’m being this responsible. She’d probably have a cardiac arrest, bless her heart.”

   Steve nuzzles closer, eyelids falling shut.

   He falls asleep to the sound of Tony’s breathing.

*~*

Gently and cool, the wind tugs at Steve’s uniform. One day is nearly not enough to grow used to the crisp of the New York air. But, he knows he’ll miss it once he’s back in Wakanda; just like he’ll miss everything else about being home.

    Warm, brown eyes, fingers trailing patterns lines along his spine, kisses in the morning light.

   ”You’re sure about this? Sending both Vision and Rhodey with us back to Wakanda?” he has to squint down at Tony, the sun shining so brightly above their heads.The ramp gives him even more leverage than usual, practically towering above Tony. ”You won’t be able to take fight an invasion on you own.”

   Tony scoffs. A gentleness glimmers in his eyes, one Steve never expected to be the source of ever again. ”I’ve got friends, Steve. All I have to do is walk down the street in New York and I’ll run into at least five masked superheroes in the span of a minute.”

   Steve shakes his head, hiding a smile. ”If you say so. Know there’ll be hell to pay if you die on me, Stark.”

   ”Like you could afford me,” Tony retorts without missing a beat. He steps closer, smelling so much like coffee and the toast they shared for breakfast. His hand is warm, solid against Steve’s cheek. ”I’ve got it covered, no need to worry, Cap. Spider-Man’ll be around, heard something about some weirdo running around with magic spells and a cape too. That’s bound to be a fun addition to the team. You’ll be facing the bulk of the army, after all.”

   Steve leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering close. ”You don’t know that for sure. If you need anything, if you need me, Tony, I’ll - ”

   He opens his eyes to find Tony smiling at him, a tiny little thing that breaks Steve’s heart into tiny, aching pieces. Why do they always have to leave each other behind?

    Tony smiles. Not without fear of the future, but with determination that they can do this. Together.

   He has the phone Steve sent him, fingers loosely curled around the bumpy surface. ”I’ll call.”