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It was late when Stephen stepped through his portal and into the familiar surroundings that was Tony Stark’s penthouse. The entire house was dark, and the late hour was punctuated by the stars twinkling at him outside the floor to ceiling glass wall and the quietly ticking clock on the above the fireplace. He bit his lip, uncertain for a moment, feeling inexplicably intrusive despite Tony’s near constant reassurance to come over at any time.
The memory was a warm one and Stephen allowed himself a small smile, all he could really manage at the moment. They had been dating for only two months and things were going at light speed, but for once, Stephen was afraid, he was here after all. The way Tony would practically plead for Stephen to start treating the penthouse like a second home was overwhelming, in a good way but this would be the first time he actually takes him up on the suggestion.
He went to move, simply take a step forward, when a sharp pain in his side and slicing up his leg made him bite his lip harder on a low groan. His Cloak flicked him disapprovingly prompting him to whisper, low and pained, “I know, I know.”
Stephen knew he should be at the Sanctum with Wong, getting medical attention and one of his lovely herbal teas, and maybe an ice pack or two. It sounded lovely, the perfect way to rest his body and recuperate from his less then pleasant experience. Except…well except those things would do nothing to calm his racing mind, the throbbing in his heart, not like Tony could.
His mere presence could be so god damn soothing, even with his snark and sass, Stephen always felt at ease. That was maybe a bit scary but at the moment he’d rather embrace it. Righting his posture, Stephen’s next step was much more careful, mindful of every bruise and crack his body had sustained in the past few hours.
He was able to move slowly toward the bedroom, with the Cloak hovering nearby in barely concealed irritation. It didn’t really like Tony, at least not yet, but that was to be expected from such a picky old thing, tonight wouldn’t help its assessment any, clearly preferring Stephen get actual medical care.
When he got to the doorway he paused, unsure exactly how to approach. It was late, much later then he thought, and he knew the man had nightmares. Stephen had no wish to frighten or disturb him, not over something so trivial as his inability to face the night alone.
“Stephen?”
Startled, Stephen peered through the gloom to see Tony half sat up in bed, gentle blue glow emanating from housing unit on his chest. Suddenly all the words on his tongue dried up and his eyes began to sting, making Stephen want to hightail it in the opposite direction.
“Friday told you me you were here, come on.”
The words are almost as gentle as the tone and Stephen found himself swallowing thickly because its exactly what he wanted to hear but its also too much, always too much with him. He tried once more to dispel the dryness from his tongue, “I’m sorry.” He whispered.
Tony sat up a little more, patting the bed firmly, “its alright, I told you I don’t mind. Come lay down.”
He’s grateful for the direction and carefully limps his way forward, glad that Tony didn’t bother commenting, until he’s at the bedside, looking down into Tony’s face, hidden by shadow but even still, Stephen can feel the loving expression he doesn’t deserve there.
Tony dragged back the covers without a word and Stephen’s happy he thought to change into his lighter robes as he gingerly lowers himself onto the mattress, stretching out carefully beneath and relaxing his muscles one by one. Tony pulls the blankets back over them, and from the corner of his eye, Stephen spots the Cloak draping itself on a nearby chair, ready to be needed.
Tony lays down next to him and the moment he feels his head settle on his shoulder, lightly at first as though waiting for a gasp of pain, then more firmly when none was forthcoming, Stephen can finally breath.
“Are you alright?” its quiet and not at all pushy which is how Stephen knows he must look or sound terrible. Maybe Friday informed him of injuries that weren’t obvious from his gait, or even informed Tony about his expression like she had done in the past.
Or maybe he just knows him that well already.
“Starting to be,” he answers and doesn’t even regret the cheesiness of that line because in the moment its true.
He feels a kiss being pressed to his collarbone and maybe tomorrow Stephen will tell Tony all about Mordo and how he’d been forced to face his old friend and nearly lost his life in the ensuing battle. Maybe he’ll explain that all he see’s when he looks at the other man is a friend he let down and that he might never be able to save him. Maybe he’ll bear his whole fucking heart out to Tony because its only been two months, but it feels like he can tell him anything and it wouldn’t change the look in his eyes.
But for tonight he chooses to simply close his eyes and revel in the warmth of his body, the air ghosting across his skin, the feeling of home filling his heart, the unconditional love he was never sure he’d feel again.