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The first time Stephen ever got a glimpse of Tony’s chest wasn’t in the best of circumstances. He sat, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed in disapproval as Tony slipped the blood-stained shirt over his head, revealing a long gash and disturbing array of bruising on his side.
In front of him stood one of the nurses, who was clearly tense from having both Tony and Stephen watching her, as she prepared to stitch the wound. Stephen, however, had his attention stolen almost immediately by the thick mound of scar tissue decorating the center of his lover’s chest.
He knew, of course, that Tony had the surgery done to remove the reactor and he couldn’t help but think as he stared at it, just how much of a better job he would have done if he’d been able. Almost immediately his mind going over procedures and the intricacies of such an operation, where he’d take the skin, how he’d fill the hole.
He had almost forgotten about the stitching when the attendant moved a little and Stephen’s eyes automatically flickered to Tony’s face, only to find him staring at him with a small frown and contemplative look. He could feel himself blush when he realized he’d been staring but Tony didn’t say anything, simply looked away, stoic as the thread was cut and tied.
The second time was better by all accounts.
In the privacy of Tony’s on suit, they had been preparing to strip to take a shower and Tony had just slid the shirt over his head, not meeting Stephen’s eyes, when he was able to take in the entirety of his chest without an active injury in play.
“Does it hurt?” the question had slipped out unthinkingly, mind analytical as ever.
Tony rolled his eyes, “only phantom aches.”
Stephen’s fingers lifted to touch and Tony stilled abruptly, mouth twisting a little, “what?” he asked quietly.
Tony shook his head, “nothing, go ahead.”
He did if only because he had no self control and this was the most he’d ever seen of Tony’s body at once, since they had tentatively begun dating, agreeing to move slowly, glacially. But instead of ghosting his fingers along the mass of scar tissue like he knew Tony expected, he ran them along the upper half of his chest.
Tony’s breath caught and Stephen had to smother a smirk. Here too, his chest was littered in scars, small and slivery, occasionally marred by fresher ones, but just as beautiful. He didn’t bother looking up at Tony, as he carefully followed a trail further down, simply skirting the edge of the center, before lowering onto his stomach, which jumped under his touch.
Stephen knew Tony was fit, had to be in order to maneuver the mechanics of the Ironman suit, but he was always covered, the blue light at the center of his chest, distracting people from his broad shoulders and of course the carefully shifting muscles underneath.
The room was quiet and humid, but for the sound of the shower and Tony’s breathing. Stephen wasn’t blind, he knew his lover was self-conscious about his scars though he’d never admit it and since the first time he’d glimpsed Tony’s chest, he’d decided he would make sure he knew Stephen thought they were nothing to be ashamed of.
Without taking a moment to consider, Stephen leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, right in the middle of where the arc reactor had made its home. Tony shuddered under him, but he didn’t stop, leaving soft little pecks as he moved up and through the dusting of hair, to press a harder one over his heart.
Tony’s hand tugged on his hair suddenly, making him pull back and Stephen got only a moment to see his lover’s dark eyes before he was being pulled into a volatile kiss so filled with emotion that it made Stephen’s heart ache.
He hated knowing how insecure he was about them, knowing that even that simple touch was all it took to make Tony’s walls crumble a little further. He wanted him to be proud of his scars, of the fact that they were his very lifeblood, the very reason he was who he had become today. Without being kidnapped, horrific as it was, he never would have saved millions of lives and made up for the ones he’d taken with his company.
Stephen’s scars weren’t like that. They had led him to become a sorcerer and a better man, yes. But they were also a painful reminder of one horrible, stupid mistake and he was grateful everyday that the only person he’d gotten hurt on that highway had been himself.
In comparison, these scars were a thing of beauty.
He couldn’t wait for the opportunity to worship every part of Tony the way he deserved.