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“Alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems.”
Tony ignored the sound of Stephen’s voice, echoing through his lab. Instead, he gripped the bottle seated between his thighs and took a deep swig of it, eyes forward on the hologram of information before him.
“Neither is sitting by yourself on the floor in the dark.”
Tony snorted, “not my doctor Strange.”
The man in question slowly sank down next to him, shoulders just barely touching, “is this you avoiding the issue or you wallowing in despair over the issue?”
“What’s the difference?”
He could feel Stephen shaking his head and Tony was too tired and too tipsy to deal with this right now, more then ready to tell the man to get lost. Except, just then, trembling fingers reached over and pried the bottle from his grasp. Tony watched, wide eyed, as Stephen stole his alcohol. He’d never seen him drink before but he was suddenly inclined to let him, the sight of those lips wrapped around the bottle, his throat working rapidly to swallow the fiery liquid, more then making up for the loss.
Stephen set it down between them, shooting Tony a look when he still hadn’t torn his gaze away from the man, “sex won’t solve anything either.”
Tony huffed his disappointment, but he couldn’t help smiling, “then why are you here? Please tell me its not to drag me out of my comfortable little pit of despair.”
"God your dramatic.”
“Years of practice,” Tony muttered.
There was a lull and Tony found he didn’t mind. It was nice sitting here next to Stephen, it always was, even when they were doing nothing. He didn’t understand it and he didn’t really want to, preferring to chalk it up to ‘hey this is cool’ and leave it at that.
But of course, it couldn’t last. Stephen’s hand reached up before them, trembling fingers sorting through the documents projected in front of them. Technically Stephen didn’t have the clearance to look at them, but they’d thrown out such pretenses a long time ago.
“When are they due back?”
His almost amicable mood shrivelled as he took another drink, staring sullenly at the pictures, “seven days.”
Stephen nodded, “all of them or?”
Tony sighed heavily, wiping at his face, “no, Barnes is staying in Wakanda and Wanda…I don’t know, they are still trying to figure out what to do with her.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, actually worked out better then expected,” Tony planned on leaving it there, but for some reason the words kept coming. That was the thing about Stephen, he was so easy to talk to because he just listened, impassively, his silence doing more to prompt you then any words could. “Barnes didn’t even want to come back, thank god, though Cap’s been throwing a hissy fit about it. He wants him to at least be pardoned so he has the option should he ever choose…but even then-”
“You wouldn’t allow it,” Stephen finished easily.
“Yeah,” Tony frowned, hating the tiny spark of guilt in his gut.
Trembling fingers were suddenly gripping his, firm but gentle and Tony found himself looking at Stephen’s shadowed face, those understanding eyes, “he killed your parents Tony. Brain-washed or not, you shouldn’t have to look at his face everyday and truthfully, he shouldn’t have to look at yours. This is the best decision all around.”
Tony was never going to understand how this man, made things so easy all the time. He always just seemed to know what to say and how to phrase it and it was probably the alcohol, but he resented that a little bit.
Another pause and Tony found himself unwilling to let go of Stephen’s hand, choosing to press against his side a little more firmly. It was hard to believe that this man had been his, these past two months, well, technically. They were still very much in the feeling things out stage.
“Did they agree to the accords, as they were?”
Tony hummed, “yup, seems like Natasha managed to convince them. Smart having someone on the inside. Why?”
“Kamar-Taj wanted to know what the situation was.”
Tony pressed a hand to his heart, leaning away in mock offense, “and here I thought you came all this way to see little old me.”
Stephen’s smile was tight, his usually amused eyes a bit sad and Tony once more felt his mood sour as he stared at him. Something wasn’t right, and not the ‘I just fought my way out of the shittiest dimension of the week’ not right, but the ‘something is on my mind and if affects us’ kind of not right. Tony could honestly say he was pretty proud of his ability to read the man next to him in such a short time.
In an attempt to appear serious, Tony set the alcohol up on the table they had been leaning against and turned bodily toward Stephen, giving him his undivided attention and only getting a raised eyebrow for his efforts. He waved at Stephen, “alright, tell me what’s wrong.”
Stephen didn’t even bother trying to deny it, eyes dancing away for a moment before meeting his again. Tony waited, figuring he’d come out with it eventually.
The man’s gaze darted to the bottle next and Tony had to suppress a snort. Finally, Stephen looked at him, expression resolute, “I thought I might check in on where the return of the rogues leaves us?”
It took a moment for the words to filter through to him, but when they did Tony found himself blinking at Stephen in confusion, not at all following the train of thought and pointing that out eloquently with a, “uh?”
Stephen sighed, resigned, “I’m aware you used to have a relationship with Captain Rogers and the last thing I want to do is-”
“What the actual fuck?” Tony snapped, staring at the man who winced at the abrasive tone.
“I didn’t want to presume-”
“Stephen, seriously what the fuck?”
His eyes flashed then, expression hardening, “Tony, cut it out.”
“No, you cut it out, in what world do you think I’d ever want to be with that asshat? He abandoned the Avengers, me, broke my suit and left me in Siberia. I’m willing to work with him if it means saving lives but why the hell would you think I’d go back to him over you? What have we been doing these past two months?” Tony couldn’t stop himself from practically hissing the words, eyes on Stephen and heart beating erratically in his chest.
Stephen at least had the decency to look chastised, a blush blooming on his cheeks, “its only been two months Tony and you haven’t exactly…told me what you wanted from this.”
Tony blinked again, realization dawning. Alright so maybe they had been having a little more sex then was appropriate for a budding relationship, and maybe their dates have been pretty private, and maybe he wasn’t the best at expression himself, and maybe he should have actually…shit.
“I love you.”
Stephen froze, like a deer caught in the headlights as the words settled between them. Tony swallowed thickly because maybe being abrupt wasn’t the right move but right now it was all he had. Still, Stephen looked distinctly shell shocked so he offered an out, “we can pretend that was the alcohol talking if you want.”
Another strained moment passed, then Stephen asked hesitantly, “was it the alcohol?”
The bravery was, definitely, but the thought of Stephen not knowing how much he cared, or thinking that he would drop him so easily, was stronger than any liquid courage, “no, not really.”
Stephen nodded, a slow smile spreading across his lips and the relief that went through Tony was like a bloody hurricane, “good, cause I love you too.”
“Great, good, that perfect…we should…definitely move things faster…like announcement…or moving in, that would be good we could stay in your museum or-”
Stephen’s trembling hand pressed against his lips, eyes glittering with amusement, “now I know that’s the alcohol talking.”
Tony deflated, “yeah probably.”
He shook his head, “come on, let’s get you to bed and in the morning, we’ll decide how much you regret this.”
Tony snorted, “you and regret could never belong in the same sentence.”