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And now for something slightly less depressing and infinitely more shallow. Can you believe how long this man’s legs are?
Got your Steve/Tony goggles on? Put ‘em on or hop off this ride; I wouldn’t want you to feel sick.
Who needs an engagement ring when you have a shield, anyway?
“Are you sure, Tony?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I love you; you love me. You do still love me, right?” Tony asks and oops, maybe he should have thought this through a little more, but—
“You know I do.” Steve catches Tony’s gaze and holds it. “I never stopped.”
“Then let’s get hitched. Life is short. We don’t know how much time we get.”
Tony slides the ring back on Steve’s finger the shield back on Steve’s arm. They both sigh and glance down at it with a mixture of gratitude and relief. It looks…right.
“I’ll get down on one knee if you want, but concrete? Much as I hate to say it, not so forgiving on the joints.” Tony raises his eyebrows at Steve. “Do you want me to kneel?”
A hint of a smile flickers around the borders of Steve’s mouth, and his eyes are very blue and very bright as he says, “Now would be the right time to get back at you for all the old man jokes, wouldn’t it?”
Okay, he deserves that. Maybe. So Tony just rolls his eyes. “Haha. It would be, but you’re a much better person than me so you won’t do that.”
“No, stop it. I won’t listen to you talk about yourself like that. I’m not a better person than you.”
“So, is that a yes? Please say it is, or I’ll have humiliated myself for nothing.”
“Yes, Tony. I’d be honored to be your husband. And out of consideration for your old-man joints, the only time you should be on your knees is on the carpet.”
“Oh thank god, Steve. I was starting to sweat. I don’t think my deodorant’s formulated to take this level of stress.”
Steve’s lips twitch into a full smile, and wow, being on the receiving end of it is like standing in a puddle of sunlight. “Where’s my kiss?” Steve asks.
“I’ll do you one better than that.” Grinning, Tony tilts his head toward his car. “Hop in the backseat and I’ll ride you.”
Steve laughs, and it breaks over Tony in a warm wave of sound. “Do you have lube?”
“Psh,” Tony says. “Do I have lube? What do you take me for? Of course, I have lube.”
They scramble into the backseat, and yes, it’s a bit of tight fit, but they manage just fine. When they eventually climb back out of the car, Steve has swiftly-fading hickeys all over his neck, and his shirt is woefully misbuttoned. A bright flush rides high on the slant of his unfairly high cheekbones; Tony thinks he’s never seemed more beautiful—because he looks happy.
And Tony, well, when he glances at himself in one of the side mirrors, his hair’s totally askew courtesy of Steve’s grabby hands, his sunglasses are missing, and his lips are kiss-bitten. None of it matters, Tony thinks, unable to suppress the cheesy smile he can feel stretching his mouth. He glances down at their joined hands and decides none of it matters because Steve loves him. After all the loss, maybe they get to find or make a little happiness. It’s enough.