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In The Tower

Summary:

A conversation on a balcony at the wrong time.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

   Stephen stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the cool air and smiling softly. It was late, nearing two in the morning and behind him, the penthouse was silent, while far below the sounds of New York, his city, drifted up to meet him. He wore only his boxers, reveling in the goosebumps prickling his skin, the gentle breeze that warned of cooler air to come.

   He walked to the edge and leaned against the glass railing, hands coming up to grip the wooden top, before leaning over it precariously. It was dizzying, being up so high. Stark Tower never really seemed that large when one looked at other skyscrapers dotting the city, but like this, with empty air in front of him, it sent a thrill through him.

   “Careful,” came an amused voice behind him. “Wouldn’t want to fall over.”

   Stephen leaned back a bit, throwing a look over his shoulder, at where Tony stood leaning against the doorway, wearing tight briefs and an unbuttoned shirt thrown on for good measure. He made a handsome sight and Stephen would maintain for the rest of his days, that it was the source of all their troubles.

   Instead he shrugged and went back to gazing across the city, “I should probably go,” he murmured, unmoving.

   Footsteps moved toward him, nearly silent against the wood as he did so, and Stephen was utterly unsurprised when heated bare skin pressed against his back, arms coming to wrap firmly around his waist.

   “Stay,” Tony murmured against his neck.

   “Thirty more minutes,” Stephen bargained.

   Tony hummed, “forever, forever sounds better.”

   Same words every time they did this. Stephen didn’t know what he could have possibly done to ensnare Tony Stark’s heart. He was arrogant and all too aware of his looks, but he was a realist, and realistically Tony should have dropped him long ago.

   Regardless, it would happen eventually. Until then, Stephen had to keep that precious distance, the one that would keep him from breaking when the end inevitably came. He leaned back into the embrace a little, smiling when lips pressed against his neck, goatee scratching the sensitive skin, “forever is a long time, sounds rather boring,” he teased.

   He expected Tony to joke back, to pull away, just like always. He didn’t.

   “With you? Couldn’t imagine a dull moment.”

   “Really? What would we do then?” Stephen’s kept his voice light, but a small part of him yearned to know, what Tony fantasied, believed.

   A hot breath of air hit is skin, a stark contrast to the cool around them and Stephen felt his cock begin to stir, though that might have something to do with Tony’s arousal pressed into his back, “I see us, together, side by side, taking the world in our hands and making it ours.”

   “You want me to be some kept plaything?” Stephen commented, snorting.

   Tony groaned, pinching his side in retaliation, “I didn’t say that. I want…I want the world to know about us, know how I feel about you. I want you to let me.”

   Stephen stilled at the serious tone. Tony was supposed to know better then to say things like that, to bring up things Stephen could never give him. They would never last, between Stephen’s rapidly advancing career and Tony’s company taking off, soon enough there would be more important things for them to focus on.

   “Tony…”

   “I know,” he said quickly. “You’re not ready.”

   Stephen didn’t comment that he would never be. This game they played, started all those years ago at that stupid gala was never meant to last. Stephen was a neurosurgeon and Tony’s company was rapidly becoming the leading force of destructive war. He might…like Tony, see a good man beneath the intellect and bravado, but it wasn’t his place to demand he change his path and eventually, Stephen would have to leave…if only to protect his own soul…even if like wasn’t even close to the emotion boiling inside him.

   “I should go,” he murmured, serious this time.

   “Not yet,” Tony whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Let me just pretend, a little while longer.”

   “You’ve always been good at avoiding things.”

   “I don’t even come close to you.”

   Stephen sighed softly, leaning forward and dislodged Tony’s hold, eyes drawn down again, at the empty space and busy street below. Tony settled against him, shoulder to shoulder against the railing, forever stubborn and unwilling to just let go.

   “You know this is temporary,” Stephen said quietly, not looking at him.

   Silence for a long moment, then Tony was resting his hand over Stephen’s, “this might be, us like this, no matter how much I don’t want it to be. But the way I’m feeling, I don’t imagine it ever changing.”

   Stephen shook his head, “you’ll find someone. Someone you don’t have to hide, who has all the time in the world for you and you’ll forget about this, us.”

   “If that makes you feel better about leaving, then feel free to think it.”

   “Tony-”

   “I wonder what would have happened if we’d met at a different time,” Tony mused quietly, squeezing his hand.

   Stephen swallowed thickly, forced a smile but still not looking at him, “we would have torn each other apart. It’s one in a million that our attitudes didn’t make us enemies.”

   Tony hummed, “I’m not so sure.”

   There was a sudden hard gust of wind and Stephen couldn’t help the shivers that travelled through him this time, finally biting into his skin. Tony straightened automatically, tugging Stephen away from the balcony and toward the doors, “come on, sleep here and I’ll make sure you get to the hospital on time.”

   For once, Stephen didn’t protest.

Notes:

Writing with a headache always leads to some weird shit.

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