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Steve didn't plan to say the words out loud.
He meant to eventually, of course. He just thought that it was too early in their relationship to make such a bold declaration. He and Tony had only been dating for a few weeks. Granted, they had been the best few weeks of Steve's life, but this was uncharted territory for him and he was worried that one wrong move could end this before it really had a chance to begin.
It had taken him long enough to realise that the chaotic mix of emotions Tony evoked in him - exasperation, fondness, frustration, admiration, befuddlement, attraction - all boiled down to a simple truth. He was in love with Tony Stark. But he wasn't stupid enough to just blurt it out to the man. Instead, he thought he would test the waters a bit. He started visiting Tony in his lab, bringing him coffee, asking him about the work he was doing, inviting him to dinner.
It took three meals at increasingly fancy restaurants before Tony froze in place, fork lifted halfway to his mouth with forgotten strands of spaghetti dangling dangerously close to his tie, eyes wide with dawning comprehension and no small degree of shock.
"This is a date," he'd said.
Steve hadn't been able to contain the blush that reddened his cheeks and crept beneath his collar. "It, ah, could be," he'd stammered (if Bucky were there, he would have rolled his eyes and drawled sarcastically "smooth, Stevie, real smooth"). He cleared his throat. "If you wanted."
Tony had stared at him for a long moment, as though Steve was a complex algorithm that he needed to figure out. Steve had shifted minutely in his seat, unnerved by the uncharacteristic silence from the man who was usually somewhere between talkative and hyperverbal. He had no idea what Tony was thinking, or how this revelation about Steve's intentions would be received.
"Alright," Tony said, and belatedly shoved the spaghetti into his mouth.
The meal went on much the same as it had before, and outwardly Steve thought he did an admirable job of keeping his cool. Internally, his heart was beating a mile a minute and he thought he was going to combust from the strain of trying to keep the goofy grin off his face, not to mention the struggle that came from carrying on a normal conversation while his brain was shouting three words so loudly he could hardly hear what Tony was saying.
The important thing was that he had managed to keep those words to himself, even when Tony ended the date by pressing a quick kiss to his lips and giving him a smile that could have lit up Manhattan. Steve had stumbled out of the elevator in somewhat of a daze, but he hadn't said the words and he counted that as a win.
Over the past 23 days, there had been hundreds of little moments like that. Horrendously close calls, where the words had been on the tip of his tongue before he caught himself and hastily swallowed them back down.
Like when Tony showed up in the kitchen at five a.m. with his hair sleep-muddled and his eyes blinking owlishly as he made grabby hands at the coffee pot. Or when he grumbled at Dummy that he didn't have time to play, but tossed a scrunched-up piece of paper at the basket in the corner and deliberately missed so the bot could bring it back to him. Or when he forgot he had an audience and started waggling his hips to the music as he worked. Or when he playfully snagged the sketchbook from Steve's hands, then gazed down in awe at the charcoal drawing of Avengers Tower nestled into the New York skyline and promptly demanded that he be allowed to frame it when it was done. Or when he casually dropped a bouquet of flowers next to Steve's breakfast plate while simultaneously stealing a strip of bacon. Or when he made up a ridiculous story about marauding robot vacuums to explain to Pepper why they were late to the gala, when one glance at their mussed-up clothes and a poorly-concealed hickey gave the game away.
Even in the heat of battle, when Tony pulled the craziest manoeuvre to catch Steve out of the air and then lifted his faceplate to kiss Steve's nose before depositing him safely on the ground and rocketing back into the fray, Steve managed to hold the words back.
It was too soon, he knew that. He didn't want to scare Tony off.
He had no intention of saying it yet. Maybe in a few months. Or in a year. Or maybe after Tony said it first - assuming he ever felt that way about Steve, and he might not, and Steve was okay with that, really. It was enough that Tony was willing to give him a chance.
But they were watching episodes of Star Trek (which Tony insisted were crucial to his 21st century education), and Tony was sprawled out on the couch with his head in Steve's lap. His fingers were tapping away at schematics and math equations on his tablet, even as he kept up a running commentary about the show and the fearless way it challenged societal norms while dreaming up advancements in technology that would inspire scientists across the globe.
It was a combination of small things. The relaxation in his posture that spoke of a trust that Steve knew did not come easy to him. The bubbly enthusiasm in his words. The nimble movements of his slender fingers. The incredible way his mind could multitask with so many different things at once. The well-worn ACDC t-shirt that was riding up a little, revealing the enticing curve of his hipbone. The sparkle in his eyes when he glanced up at Steve and caught him staring.
Steve was sure that he meant to say something else entirely, but when he opened his mouth the words just wandered out on their own.
"I love you."
Tony blinked at him.
“Oh,” he said. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his gaze skittered away. “That’s, uh.” He sat up and scooted to the other side of the couch, curling the tablet protectively against his chest, almost like a shield. “That’s- I mean- uh-”
Terror slammed into Steve so hard that it knocked the breath from his lungs. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. He made an aborted movement to reach for Tony, his hand spasming in the empty space between them before he clenched his fist and dropped it down to his side. “Please forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to- I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, or forced to say- Not that I’m presuming you would, I just, it was a mistake- I’m sorry, I didn’t think- can you- can we just finish the episode? It’s a good episode.” For the life of him, Steve couldn’t remember what the episode was about, or even which show they were watching. He was too caught up in wide brown eyes and an overwhelming sense of dread. This was over. He had ruined everything.
“Steve,” Tony said. His voice sounded hoarse.
Steve braced himself.
“Do you really… did you mean it?”
Every line of Tony’s body was tense, but there was something in his expression. Something almost like… hope?
Steve swallowed down his fears, and told the truth. “Yes. I meant it.”
Air gushed from Tony’s lungs. “Captain America wouldn’t lie.”
There was an underlying note of anxiety in Tony’s voice, and Steve didn’t understand the cause but he was quick to reassure him. “Not about something like this.”
Tony nodded jerkily. “I…believe you? I mean, there’s a whole host of reasons why you shouldn’t. I don’t even really understand why you wanted to date me in the first place. You’re you, and I’m me, and I’ve got to be the furthest possible thing from a good match for you, but you still- so I figured it couldn’t hurt, or, well, that if you changed your mind it wouldn’t hurt you too much and that’s what was important, but I never expected- I didn’t think you would ever- it doesn’t make sense.”
Steve’s heart splintered. “Tony…”
“I’m sorry. I am- I have a lot of issues, okay? You should know that about me. I mean, there’s all the obvious surface stuff like the alcohol and insomnia and the narcissism and the reckless behaviour, but under all that I have a lot of… there’s a bunch of mixed up, messed up- Let’s just say a psychiatrist would love to get their hands on me, but if they did then they’d probably never let me go again.” His self-depreciating laugh was tinged with hysteria.
Steve wanted to interrupt him, to say that he wasn’t exactly a poster boy for mental health either, and he had nothing but respect for the strength with which Tony faced his demons each and every day. It was one of the reasons Steve loved him, but Tony was on a roll now and he barrelled onwards without letting Steve get a word in edgewise.
“I’m arrogant and insecure. I shut myself away but I’m also completely overbearing. I throw myself at people but I won’t let them get close. I crave connection but I sabotage my relationships at every turn. And I know that I do it, and I wish I could stop, but it’s happening again and I can’t- I can’t- god, I can’t help myself, I have to tell you what a hideous mistake you’re making. I could try to explain how I became this- this walking disaster, but what it boils down to is that I hear you saying those words and I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but I have a hard time- I can’t even begin to fathom how it could be true. So I’m sorry if I- if I’m not responding the way a normal- hell, that’s the best possible thing a person could ever hear, and coming from you it’s- but some part of me just can’t- and god, I want to- but I-”
Tony was shaking, his knuckles were bleached white around his tablet and his breath was coming in small hitched gasps.
“Tony.” Steve’s voice broke over the word and tears blurred his vision. He blinked them back and tried again. “Tony, is it alright if I hug you?”
Tony couldn’t meet his gaze, turning unseeing eyes to the muted action on the television, but after a moment he gave the tiniest nod.
Steve didn’t hesitate, crossing the length of the couch and gathering Tony into his arms. The man was shuddering like he had just come in from a blizzard, and Steve willed his own warmth to soak into his skin. He cupped the back of Tony’s neck and drew his face into his shoulder, not caring that tears began to soak into his shirt. “Hey, shh, it’s alright,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into Tony’s curls. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Steve wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually Tony’s body began to relax. Steve gently pulled the tablet from his slackened grip and set it aside, then continued to rub a soothing hand up and down his back until Tony slumped wearily against him.
“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered.
Steve held him a little tighter, as though he could bind all of his broken pieces together through sheer force of will. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t intend for those words to hurt you like that.”
Tony drew in an unsteady breath. “I guess I’m not used to hearing them. My parents never really… And I think Jarvis would have, but it wasn’t a butler’s place. Obie said it once or twice as I was growing up, and there was the odd girlfriend or boyfriend back in college, but they didn’t- they loved the Stark name, or the Stark fortune, or the Stark tech. Not me.”
Steve wanted to throttle Howard. He wanted to resurrect Obadiah Stane so he could have the satisfaction of killing him personally. He wanted to hunt down every single person who had ever hurt Tony and return that pain to them tenfold.
Instead, he gently carded his fingers through Tony’s hair. “You deserve better, sweetheart.”
Tony pulled back and looked up at him through damp lashes. “Maybe,” he said, and he didn’t sound convinced. “But so do you. I know you, Steve, and I know that you’re the sort of person who will give of yourself whole-heartedly, but my heart… it isn’t whole, and it hasn’t been for a long time. You deserve someone who can hear those words without having a breakdown, and who can say them to you in return.”
Steve frowned. “The words aren’t important to me, Tony. You are.”
“But-”
Steve silenced him with a kiss. Tony held back for a moment, as though trying to deny himself, but Steve was gentle and persistent and eventually Tony melted into his embrace. When they parted for air, Steve could tell that the fight had left him.
“You’re not going to let me break us up, are you?” Tony said.
Steve smiled and pecked him on the lips again. “Not a chance.”
Tony’s answering smile was tremulous but genuine. “Well, then. You should know that, ah…” His cheeks coloured and he had to clear his throat. “The feeling’s mutual. And I’ll do my best to find a way to… to tell you properly, someday.”
Heart full to bursting, Steve took Tony’s hand in his own. “I hear you loud and clear, sweetheart. But if you want, I could let you in on a little secret code my mom and I had.”
“Oh?” There was curiosity in his tone, a good sign that Tony was recovering from the emotional wringer he had just been through.
Steve didn’t often talk about his mother. But Tony had been raw and vulnerable with him, and Steve found that he wanted to open up to him in return. He thought that maybe the idea should have been daunting, but it just felt right.
“I was sick a lot, as a kid. When my asthma was particularly bad, or when I doing my best to cough up a lung, it was hard to breathe, let alone speak. My mom came up with a system for me to tell her things. She would hold my hand and ask me a question. I would squeeze once for yes, twice for no.” Steve demonstrated by squeezing Tony’s hand. “And sometimes I would squeeze three times, to replace those three words I couldn’t get enough oxygen to say out loud. But she was always there taking care of me, and I wanted her to know, even if I couldn’t say it. When she contracted pneumonia, and our roles were reversed… she used the last of her strength to make sure that I knew.”
Tony’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
“I miss her,” he admitted, letting the grief settle over him anew before bundling it up and gently placing it back down in a little corner of his heart. “But I think it would make her happy to know that our little tradition lived on.”
“Yeah?”
Steve squeezed Tony’s hand three times. “Yeah.”
Tentatively, Tony squeezed three times in return. “I can do that.”
ooOOoo
In hindsight, Steve should have expected Tony to take the idea and run with it.
It started off simply enough. They went out for dinner, and Tony reached across the table to hold his hand. The wild story he was telling about streaking across his college campus on a dare from Rhodey continued unabated, but three gentle squeezes conveyed an entirely different message.
Steve couldn’t help but grin stupidly, and was too busy returning the gesture to laugh at the punchline of Tony’s story (the Dean of the college had not believed that an accident in the chem-lab had resulted in the dire need for a decontamination shower, or that a lack of towels had forced Tony to dry au naturel in the cold night air.)
Tony blushed, apparently more embarrassed by the show of affection than he had been when sprinting the length of the grounds at MIT without a single stitch of clothing on. But he didn’t let go of Steve’s hand all through dessert.
He expressed the sentiment again when they were walking through Central Park. Steve was caught up in describing the different pastels and watercolours he would use to depict the abundance of flowers that were blooming all around them. He found he only had one hand to wave around expressively; the other was intertwined with Tony’s. Three squeezes spoke louder than words ever could, and Steve felt the urge to draw again, but this time the only image he wanted to capture was the look in Tony’s eyes.
Tony found a way to balance his tablet on his lap during their movie nights, so he could have one hand free to rest on top of Steve’s while he typed with the other.
Teaching Steve how to use the video game controller apparently required steadying his grip and guiding his use of the buttons.
Claiming that Steve was stirring the pancake mix wrong gave him the excuse to wrap his fingers around the same spoon.
Stubborn bolts on old robots evidently required two sets of hands to pry loose and to tighten on again later once the necessary repairs had been made to a bent axel.
When Steve wouldn’t relinquish his steaming cup of coffee, Tony curled his hands around the cup as well, vowing to claim the warmth if he wasn’t allowed the caffeine.
He might have thought he was being subtle, but Steve noticed how Tony took every opportunity to hold his hand, and he wouldn’t let go without squeezing three times first.
Tony bore too many scars from too many people to find the courage to speak those words aloud. But he made sure that he told Steve anyway, every single chance he could get.
And he didn’t stop at hand-holding.
He squeezed Steve’s shoulder after a stressful encounter with nosy reporters. He squeezed Steve’s hip after slipping an arm around his waist. He squeezed Steve’s knee under the dinner table. He even squeezed Steve’s toes after giving him a foot massage.
It wasn’t long before the pattern of threes became evident in other ways as well.
Tony tapped his fingers three times against the conference table during a routine briefing at SHIELD. He rapped his knuckles three times on Steve’s door when he came to see if he was ready for their date. He pecked three quick kisses to his lips before he left to attend a board meeting at SI. He changed Steve’s text-alert sound to three beeps. He smoothed down Steve’s tie three times before they attended a charity event, and clinked his glass three times before giving a speech.
Since Steve had told Tony about the secret code, not a day had gone by without Tony using it in a myriad of different ways. Even when they got into arguments or shouting matches, Tony’s hand tapped out a fierce rhythm of threes on whatever surface was within reach.
Steve knew that he was completely, utterly, unconditionally loved by Tony Stark. In all his life, he had never felt so happy.
Until the day his world came crashing down around him.
ooOOoo
They were eating dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant. Tony was friendly with the owners and the paparazzi never thought to look for them on that side of town, so it was one of their favourite date-night destinations.
Candlelight flickered between them, casting golden hues across Tony’s features. His face and his hands were equally animated as he described the school science fair he had attended in Tennessee the weekend prior.
“-most were your standard baking-soda volcanoes, solar-system models or milk-bottle geraniums. Harley’s project blew all of them out of the water. You should have seen it, Steve, all the teachers were gathered around his table, watching in awe as his robot peeled, chopped and fried each potato to perfection in under 30 seconds. Launching the fries into a serving basket was a brilliant finishing touch. But the look on their faces when he spun the barrel and caught a fry in his mouth – absolutely priceless.” Tony swiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Honestly, I’ve never been so proud. Apparently, the robot has since been put to work at his mother’s diner and they are raking in the customers.”
Steve adored Tony like this. Bubbling over with enthusiasm and boasting about the child prodigy he had taken under his wing, his eyes were sparkling and every atom of his being seemed to radiate joy.
“That’s great, Tony. He must be learning a lot from you.”
Tony waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I’ve hardly done anything. Sure, I gave his garage a makeover and installed a basic AI into his computer mainframe, but he has been teaching himself. I don’t even check up on him more than once or twice a month. He’s a genius, Steve, and one day he is going to be building tech that will make Stark Industries look like-”
Glass shattered.
Steve was hitting the ground before he fully registered the echo of a gun-shot. “Everyone get down!”
The other patrons screamed and scrambled under their tables as more bullets pelted the windows. Steve hit the emergency beacon in his pocket and snatched a large round serving tray from a wide-eyed waitress who was huddled behind a chair. “May I borrow this, ma’am?” Steve asked, not waiting for an answer before he jumped to his feet. The tray wasn’t made from vibranium, but it was the closest thing he had to a shield. It was date night – he was unarmed. He hadn’t been expecting trouble.
“Tony, you’ve got your watch, right?”
He expected to hear the whine of Tony’s repulsors charging.
He didn’t.
“Tony?”
Steve didn’t want to look away from the source of the threat. Another round of fire forced him to duck behind the tray and the force of each hit shuddered up his arm. He was grateful that the bullets only dented the metal, rather than piercing through.
Even as he scooped a knife from the table and tried to calculate which direction the fire was coming from, he hoped that no one else had been hit. Normal people didn’t have the advantages of his super-serum healing abilities.
“Tony!”
He tried to remember everything that Natasha had taught him about knife-throwing. Trajectory, distance, spin, force. Harder when he didn’t have eyes on the target.
Flinging a prayer to the heavens, Steve lined up his shot and threw his make-shift weapon with every ounce of strength he possessed. The blade glinted as it zipped through the broken windows and vanished into the darkness of the alley outside. He didn’t know for certain if he hit his mark, but the shooting stopped. The sudden silence was jarring until the sound of distant sirens filtered into the restaurant.
“Authorities are on their way,” Steve announced, preparing to vault through the windows to seek out the unknown attacker. “Tony, are you-”
He finally looked back, expecting to see Tony right behind him.
The words died in his throat.
Tony’s body was sprawled on the floor. A crimson stain was spreading from a ragged hole in his shirt, just below his sternum.
Shot.
Tony had been shot.
Tony wasn’t wearing his armour. He wasn’t even wearing Kevlar. He was wearing Armani.
Tony didn’t have the serum and Armani offered no protection at all and Tony had been shot.
“Oh my god.”
Steve dropped to his knees. He didn’t know if it was a conscious choice or if his legs had given way beneath him.
“Tony. Tony, don’t. Don’t-”
The tray clattered loudly as he cast it aside. His hands worked on auto-pilot, snatching a nearby tablecloth and wadding it up to press tightly against the wound.
This shouldn’t be happening. They weren’t on a mission. There were no aliens invading New York or supervillains trying to take over the world. It was date night and they were at their favourite restaurant. They had a table perpetually reserved for Tuesday evenings and wrangled their schedules as best they could so they would make it there more often than not. It had become something of a tradition- a routine.
A predictable routine.
Oh god.
“Tony, wake up, dammit, you can’t-” He choked, not even sure what he was trying to say or if Tony could even hear him. Desperate, he pressed down harder.
A gurgled moan was all the warning he got before Tony’s body arched beneath his hands and his eyes flew open. “-eve?”
“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m right here, you’re okay, you’re going to be okay-” He was babbling, he knew he was babbling but he couldn’t stop. “I’ve got you, you’re safe, the ambulance will be here any second and you’re going to be just fine, you hear me? I’ll make it an order if I have to, and this is one order you better not ignore or so help me, Tony-”
“Steve-” A spasm wracked his body and his lips parted in a silent cry, even as his fingers scrabbled to hold onto something.
Steve caught one of his hands in his own, even as he flattened his other palm more firmly over Tony’s injury.
“I’m not losing you,” he growled. “It’s not an option. I lost everything once and I can’t do it again. Don’t make me go through that again. Tony, I-”
He was interrupted by a gentle squeeze.
Tony’s skin was ashen and agony was written into every line of his face, but he smiled up at Steve and squeezed his hand again.
Steve waited for the third one.
But Tony’s mouth went slack. His eyes slid closed.
His hand fell limp.
ooOOoo
“Steve, man, you need to get some rest. You haven’t slept in three days.”
He didn’t bother to glance up. He knew what he would see on Sam’s face. A mixture of concern and sympathy. It was the same expression that each of the Avengers had worn when they came to visit. Nick and Agent Hill, too, when they stopped by to tell him that the shooters had been apprehended. Small comfort that had been.
He gave Sam the same reply he had given the others. “I’m fine.”
“This isn’t healthy,” Sam persisted. “Your body needs a break.”
“Serum,” Steve said. He continued to stroke the knuckles of Tony’s hand, careful to avoid disturbing the I.V. He wondered at how small Tony’s hands were compared to his. Strong, though. Calloused and scarred from all the work he did, yet still elegant. Beautiful. Steve wanted to capture their beauty in his sketchbook, but he wasn’t about to let go. Not for a second.
“You haven’t even showered or changed your clothes. Steve, they’re still stained with Tony’s-”
Steel blue eyes flashed a warning, and Sam hastily changed tack.
“How many times have you pulled Tony out of one of his workshop binges? Don’t you think he’d want you to take care of yourself the same way you take care of him?”
Steve remembered tossing Tony over his shoulder once, using a fireman’s carry to get him up the stairs. Instead of protesting, Tony had made a quip about the ‘nice view’ and pinched Steve’s rear three times. “Was I saying that to you or your ass?” he asked, then dissolved into helpless giggles that were no doubt a result of sleep-deprivation. He was unconscious almost as soon as Steve dumped him on their bed.
Steve had shaken his head, convinced that his boyfriend was ridiculous. But he toed off his boots, then lay down next to him and pulled him gently into his arms. When Tony snuggled into his chest with a happy sigh, Steve realised that he had found a home in this man. This ridiculous, amazing man.
“C’mon, Steve, let someone else sit with him a while,” Sam continued. “Colonel Rhodes and Pepper are just outside. Why don’t you come back to the tower with me, freshen up, catch a few hours of sleep and then you can come straight back. I promise.”
“I’m not leaving him, Sam.” He used his Captain America voice. No one argued with Captain America when he was serious and firm like that, except Tony of course. He would argue until he was blue in the face, sometimes just for the hell of it. It was enough to drive Steve mad.
He would give anything for Tony to be driving him mad right now. His silence was unnatural, unbearable.
His tone softened. “He needs to wake up.”
Sam sighed. Wordlessly, he reached out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder.
Only once, not three times like Tony would, but it was enough to make tears burn at the corners of his eyes. Crying wasn’t allowed, though, because this wasn’t grief, he wasn’t grieving and he wouldn’t grieve, he wouldn’t have to, because Tony was coming back to him. His chest ached and his head hurt, but he wasn’t going to cry.
No crying.
The door snicked as Sam closed it softly behind him.
Steve was left with the quiet hum of machinery and the steady beep of the heart monitor.
He exhaled. His chin dropped to his chest. For a long moment, he let weakness overwhelm him.
Then he raised his head and set his shoulders.
“You’re going to wake up, Tony,” he said. “Do you know why? Because you are the most stubborn man I have ever met. You’re the guy who was kidnapped by terrorists to build a bomb, and instead you built Iron Man. You made yourself into a superhero. Reporters, politicians, big army brass, angry investors, irate board members and traitors couldn’t stop you then. One little bullet won’t stop you now. If you don’t believe me, consider this – you work alongside a demi-god, two serum-enhanced individuals and two super spies, and you’ve said yourself that you are not a soldier but damn if you don’t fight like one. You stand up against the biggest threats this world has ever known, and you don’t give them an inch. Hell, you threatened Loki without a single plate of armour on. Your suit isn’t what makes you a hero, Tony, that’s all you. You are Iron Man, and you don’t go down easy. You get back up every time you fall. They push you, you push back harder. A bullet is not going to be the end of the great Tony Stark. You’re going to wake up.”
Steve didn’t realise that his voice was growing louder, but he did feel the twitch under his hand and it startled him into silence.
He waited with bated breath.
Nothing.
But hope was tightening his chest. He wasn’t going to give up. He would never give up. “Tony? C’mon, sweetheart. I need my best fella.”
Another twitch of his fingers.
“That’s it, baby. See, I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You never do. You amaze me, each and every single day. With your genius inventions and your boundless generosity and your effortless charm. With the way you look out for your friends and make sure they have everything they could possibly need or want to be safe and happy. With your smiles and your laughter and that crinkle around your eyes. With your courage and your boldness. With your passion and energy and enthusiasm. And with the way you love, so much and so hard even though it scares you.”
The tears were threatening again. “I was so alone when I woke up from the ice. Everyone I had ever known was gone. The people at SHIELD thought I was depressed, but mostly I was angry. After everything I had been through, everything I had done, everything I had sacrificed, it wasn’t fair. I should have been allowed to rest. I didn’t want to get back into the world, and I resented being asked to save it.
“And then I met you. You were everything wrong about this century – loud and flashy, overloaded with technology and dripping with extravagance. You were the perfect target for my rage. But after all the horrible things I said, you had to go and prove me wrong. Because you’re stubborn, see? And you kept defying all of my expectations until I realised I had been wrong about everything. I didn’t hate you. Turns out it was the complete opposite. Of course, I didn’t dare believe that you could ever feel the same. I was scared to even tell you. But I did, and instead of yelling at me to get lost, you decided to say those three words to me every day in a hundred different ways until I couldn’t help but believe you.
“I just hope that you can believe me, too. Because I do, Tony, with every fibre of my being.” A tear fell from his eyelashes, splashing onto the back of his hand.
He squeezed three times.
But Tony’s hand was still beneath his.
Steve bowed over the bed, wracked with sobs that he suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore. They shuddered through him, tearing him apart and leaving him helpless, bleeding.
“Hey,” a soft voice croaked.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath. His head shot up and his gaze found Tony’s face.
Warm brown eyes blinked tiredly at him, and a slight smile curved his lips.
Steve thought for sure that Tony would return the gesture now. Anticipation thrilled through him.
But Tony proved him wrong yet again.
His slipped his hand out from underneath Steve’s and raised it to cup his cheek, rubbing away the tear tracks with his thumb.
“I love you, too,” he said.
Steve cried harder. When their mouths met, it was wet and messy and tasted like saline.
It was the best kiss Steve ever had.
ooOOoo
The End