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The night air was cool enough to warrant the need for a sweatshirt, a warm fleece hoodie which Tony pulled over his head as he stood by the lakeside, watching the stars reflected in the ebony ripples of the lake. He felt himself smile into the gentle, cool breeze as he took in a deep breath of lake air, eyes closed.
Stephen had been right, as usual, to send him out here. The sorcerer had pushed him out the front door of the wood cabin, insisting Tony get some fresh air and cool down after Harley had accidentally broken a plate while drying dishes.
He and Peter had been helping clean up after dinner, while Tony scrubbed the remnants of his homemade macaroni and cheese off the plates. The boys had been joking around, about what Tony wasn’t sure, he’d been tuning them out, when Harley suddenly whipped Peter with a damp drying cloth. This elicited a squeak from the younger teen, while the wet plate in his hand went crashing to the floor in his surprise.
Stephen looked over his shoulder from where he had been making popcorn with Morgan, eyebrows knitting together as he shot a glance at the boys before his eyes stole to Tony, like he could hear the ringing in the other man’s ears. Even six months later, Tony’s nerves were still as raw as ever since the Undusting (or the Blip, as the younger generation had insensitively dubbed it) and the Battle for Earth. A culmination of years of PTSD, mainly stemming from alien encounters, and new, seeping wounds to his mental state had left Tony jumping at every little sound for weeks after they got home. Six months later, he still found himself reeling at any sudden noise louder than a normal speaking volume, heart hammering in his head, vision swimming as anxiety gripped him fully. He was ashamed of it, no doubt, even around the people who’d seen him at his worst, finding it so hard to move on after the battle which had evidently been the last straw.
Now, Tony’s gaze was blank as he stared through the floor, as it had been two days ago when Peter left a bag of popcorn in the microwave too long and it exploded. Heart pounding in the infant stages of an anxiety attack, Tony felt as though his arc reactor scar was burning, suppressing the urge to claw at it. The crashing ceramic had sent his consciousness hurtling back to that battle field and he could feel indefinite panic settling in.
He was drawn back slightly as he felt Stephen’s strong but shaking grip on his shoulder, shoving a sweatshirt to Tony’s chest, firmly, but not unkindly, and shooing him towards the door.
“Go outside for a bit. Breathe”, the sorcerer’s soothing baritone reminded him. “We’ll finish cleaning up. Go on.”
Tony resisted weakly, anxiety-addled mind faltering as he shuffled towards the door.
“You’re not doing dishes. Your hands…”, he sputtered, mind numbing as he though of Stephen’s scars, hot water, painful shaking, incessant trembling. Green-blue eyes narrowed at him with no room for argument within them.
“Harley can finish them, because he’s lost all drying privileges”, Stephen said, sending a steely glare in the teen’s direction, who put his hands up in mock surrender; he knew the sorcerer wasn’t truly mad at him.
Tony was guided out the front door by a pair of softly trembling hands into the cool, pine-scented air, followed by Peter’s string of, “Sorry, Mr. Stark”s, all the way out onto the porch. Sweatshirt on, he shoved his hands in the pockets, trudging to the edge of the lake as his heart pounded hotly in his chest. He stopped by the wooden bench he and Pepper (and now often Stephen too) sat on to have their coffee on warm mornings, watching the sunrise over the water. He gripped the back of the bench tightly, suspended, like he was going to sit down, but didn’t, his skin still itching with anxiety.
This was the first night Pepper had left him and Morgan alone since the Battle for Earth, checking with Tony over and over if he was okay before going out for a girls’ night with May and Natasha, having grown close to the two women in the past six months.
Not that Tony and Morgan were actually alone.
Being a Friday night, May had dropped Peter off at the Stark cabin, carpooling with Pepper on their way to meet Natasha at a restaurant. It wasn’t unusual for Peter to spend the weekend at his second home at the lake, including many a school night which Tony and Peter would spend tinkering in the garage in between working on his homework.
Then there was Harley, all his wit and spunk still intact, having made contact with Tony again after the Battle for Earth and hearing about his role in it. They’d kept in touch over the years, of course, sporadically at best as Tony dealt with problems at the forefront of his mind like the Sokovia Accord and the resulting falling out of the Avengers. He’d sent money over the years, Harley’s mom beyond grateful as she struggled with two jobs, and extra money for Harley to get himself equipment for tinkering and making gadgets. Now, eighteen and finding his way in the world, he’d sought out his “mechanic”. He’d showed up as a surprise for Tony to the celebration party after the Undusting and their win of the Battle for Earth, after asking Pepper for the cabin’s address. Now an engineering major, he drove in from the city to spend the weekend at the cabin every few weeks, much to Morgan’s delight, as he always brought her a treat or small trinket of some kind.
Tony felt tears prickle at his eyes, at the same time as a soft smile creased his face, as thinking of his kids always did. Though his heart had slowed from its panicked racing, his eyes welled up as he took in a deep lungful of cold air, the stars blurred by tears as he looked up through the dark boughs of the pines. His mind wandered, as it often had in the past six months, to his reunion with Stephen.
Not the initial, panicked, “Oh, my god, he’s alive”, but the real reunion. After the battle was over, like actually over, when Carol had snapped Thanos and his army, and snapped the stones, Tony sought out the sorcerer. Bloodied and bruised and shaken, but relief growing in his eyes, those crazy blue or green or silver eyes which he had missed so much, even though he had only known them for a day. Those eyes met him with a tentative, lop-sided smile that was simultaneously so vulnerable and so guarded, a complete, shaking mess, trying to regain some of his usual composure even in the aftermath of a battle for the world.
“Wizard”, Tony half-wheezed, suddenly choking on dust and blood and tears.
“Hi, Tony.” He’d forgotten just how deep the sorcerer’s voice was, soft like it had been in his last few moments five years ago. Soft and ancient-sounding, while simultaneously regaining a youthful innocence Tony had never heard. Tony was taken aback by the vulnerability in his tone, but responded with a friendly squeeze on his cloaked shoulder, giving him an uncertain, but relieved grimace of sorts. A million thoughts and feelings where overwhelming Tony’s chest and head, his usual cocky facade struggling to hold up, resulting in shifting eyes and jerky movements. Stephen lightly touched Tony’s hand that was resting on his shoulder with his own cool, shaking fingers.
“It’s really good to see you”, Stephen managed. Tony nodded, still trying to swallow past whatever was stuck in his throat.
The choking feeling in his throat persisted as Tony brought his thoughts back to present day, willing control of his own mind. He felt like he was on auto-pilot half the time, his anxiety with one hand on the wheel, his PTSD with the other. He swallowed again as he could practically taste that day in his mouth. A lot of dust. Blood that tasted like copper. A lot of blood, overwhelming dust, stinging tears. He needed some water. Some air.
“Tony!”
Stephen’s voice pulled him back in fully; back to the pine trees and the lake, the stars and the cool breeze. Imaginary dust dissolved in his mouth, the coppery tinge leaving the back of his throat. He looked up from his grip on the back of the bench to see the sorcerer calling him in from the porch, the warm light from inside the house outline his tall, sturdy silhouette.
Solid, Tony thought. Not dust.
He sucked in another calming breath of the lake air, or what should have been calming if his lungs were working properly. Hands shoved in his pockets, left wrist tingling a little, he trudged back to the porch. He nudged Stephen with his elbow as he passed him through the open doorway, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe in silent thanks. He earned a bemused smile from the sorcerer, an easy smile that made him forget for a second why he was so stressed out.
Warm air from the kitchen and the scent of buttery popcorn hit Tony like a familiar hug as he went for a glass of water, though the forefront of his mind had forgotten why he was thirsty.
“You need to settle Harley and Morgan’s debate about what movie we’re going to watch. I tried to help them come to a decision, but they don’t trust my judgement”, Stephen said, sidling behind him to stir the pot of hot chocolate on the stove. Tony felt his presence pass close by him, the warmth from his body emanating like a reassuring sun. Tony shivered despite this.
“I’ll handle it”, he grumbled, stalking into the living room to find Harley and Morgan swiping the remote back and forth between each other as they browsed Netflix. Meanwhile, Peter was perched on the arm of the sofa with an enormous bowl of popcorn, quietly watching the two squabble as he picked at the popcorn. The second he heard Tony enter the room, he sprang form his perch, nearly dumping the bowl in the process, much to Morgan’s chagrin.
“I’m really sorry about the plate, Mr. Stark”, Peter said, true remorse and guilt showing in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to-.” Tony cut him off by clapping him on the shoulder and letting his hand rest there.
“Don’t worry about it, Pete”, he said, giving the teen’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Besides, it was Harley’s shenanigans that broke the plate, not you.” He shot a fond, teasing glare at the blond teen who was currently draped over the armchair he had claimed. Harley stuck his tongue out at Tony before snatching the remote back from Morgan.
“Daddy, Harley says ‘Jurassic Park’ is for nerds and we can’t watch it”, Morgan interjected, having retrieved the bowl of popcorn from Peter’s unreliable hands, looking up at her dad with big, brown eyes.
“We are nerds, and proud of it”, Tony shot at Harley with a testing smirk. “Of course we can watch it, Moguna, just wait for the Doc.” With this he turned to yell into the kitchen. “Hey, wizard, you done playing maid yet? We’re gonna start the movie.” Stephen came stalking out of the kitchen, armed with a tray upon which he was balancing five mugs of hot chocolate, bristling slightly at Tony’s comment. Tony pointedly took the tray from shaking hands which were shaking more than usual from the effort despite being steadied by magic. Tony’s warm, calloused hands grazed the sorcerer’s smooth, too cool ones as he received a breathed, “Douchebag”, too quiet for Morgan to hear. Tony’s only response was a quiet grin as they sat on the sofa with the kids.
Harley had claimed the armchair as usual, while Morgan snuggled up against Tony’s side, Stephen wedged against the far arm of the couch, with Peter cross-legged between the two men. Tony passed the popcorn down the couch as the opening credits played, Morgan taking a few handfuls before he did. He noticed how Stephen declined when Peter offered him the bowl, keeping his hands shoved under his underarms, hiding them from view and to make their shaking less noticeable. Tony caught the sorcerer’s eyes and cocked a brow in questioning, but Stephen shook his head once and turned back to the movie.
*****
Two hours later, the end credits quietly rolled in the dark of the living room, save for the light from the tv, and the kids were half asleep.
Tony looked down to where he felt a small puddle of drool forming on his shirt where Morgan’s head was resting on his stomach. Peter was also nodding off, head lolling as he leaned against Tony’s shoulder. Tony nudged the boy awake reluctantly; there’d been many a time they had all spent the night on the couch after falling asleep during a movie, but Tony’s left arm was beginning to tingle uncomfortably under the teen’s weight, and not just from the pressure. He smiled quietly at Peter’s bleary-eyed, messy-haired, “Huh?”, looking to his mentor in confusion.
The sleepy teen quickly clued in, stumbling slowly to his feet, holding his arms out for Morgan as he only half registered that he was upright.
“I’ll take her”, he mumbled, stifling a yawn as Tony gathered his daughter his arms, allowing Peter to scoop her up easily. He held her close to his chest, her small head resting on his shoulder. She looked around confusedly for a second, more asleep than awake, before snuggling into her “brother’s” hoodie. Something in Tony’s chest tugged like it always did whenever he saw them together, acting as though they were actually siblings even though they’d only known each other for six short months. Harley, on the other hand, was still warming up to the idea of sharing Tony with anyone, especially Stephen.
Harley took the cue from where he’d been scrolling on his phone for the better part of the movie, lurching to his feet with a tired groan.
“The guest bed is made, so you two can fight over that. Loser gets the pullout in the den”, Tony told them in a hushed voice. He knew Peter would insistently offer the bed to Harley, while the older teen would mutter indifference and go collapse on the pullout without any room for argument. Both teens trudged up the stairs before muttering their goodnights, Peter whispering a goodnight to both Tony and Stephen so as not to wake Morgan. Both men watched the boys walk upstairs, hearing Harley call dibs on the first shower in the morning, Peter complying before they could hear the floorboards creaking above their heads as he walked to Morgan’s room.
“Got some pretty decent kids considering I only made one of them”, Tony chuckled quietly, fondness making his dark eyes twinkle. Stephen felt his breath catch for a moment as he looked at him, radiant and truly beautiful with the love he felt for his kids, looking away with a hum of agreement before Tony could notice his reaction.
“Mmhm. Peter’s really good with Morgan. He’s a sweet kid.” Tony laughed and Stephen quirked a brow at the unexpected reaction.
“It’s okay, Doc. I wouldn’t label Harley as ‘sweet’ either.” Stephen blinked in bewilderment.
“That’s not what I-.”
“I know what you meant”, Tony grinned, voice still soft with a hint of amusement.
“He’s a tough nut to crack, I’ll give you that”, Stephen muttered, looking down at his hands which he had folded in his lap. Tony shifted on the sofa, pulling his legs up beside him as he turned to face Stephen, leaning sideways against the back cushions.
“He’s had a bit of a tough go, but he really is a good kid. He hides it well, but he’s smart as a whip, too.” He noticed Stephen still looking at his hands and smiled slightly. “He also takes a while to warm up to people.”
“That’s fine”, Stephen said quickly. Too quickly. His subconscious fear was that, if Harley kept up his glaring and scoffing at him enough, that Tony would take the kid’s side and that would be the end of the sorcerer’s visits to the Stark cabin. Tony didn’t know what was going on in his head, but he saw the flicker of panic in the sorcerer’s eyes. He was about to reach out and give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, when he realized he’d been doing that a lot lately and stopped himself.
“Hey, Harley still isn’t too thrilled about Peter, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting rid of either of them.” His tone was light-hearted, but the look in his eyes told Stephen that he might have some idea what he was thinking. Stephen nodded, wishing he could look up from his hands, look Tony in the face, say what was on the tip of his tongue, making his heart burst almost painfully.
“Tea?”, he asked instead.
“I’m alright. Hot chocolate was really good, by the way.”
“No problem.” There was a pause of silence.
“Feel free to make a tea, if you want”, Tony said, not unkindly. “Mi casa es su casa and all that.”
“It’s…fine”, Stephen said, wanting to kick himself. It wasn’t fine.
Tony noticed how on edge the sorcerer was and a pang of sympathy hit his chest. It was hard not to notice actually. He didn’t think the sorcerer realized, but he was wringing his scarred hands terribly, turning them over in his lap, shaking even more than when he’d been carrying the tray earlier. Stephen was staring at the corner of the table, but also into the middle distance, like he was trying to escape from his body. And perhaps he was, subconsciously, Tony thought, noticing a flicker of hazy light which looked like the sorcerer’s astral form.
“Stephen.” He placed his hand on the sorcerer’s, who’s head snapped around as he turned to look at him, blue-green eyes wide with…fear?
This is it, Stephen’s brain was telling him. You’ve overstayed your welcome, you idiot. He’s had enough of you and your pathetic pining, now he’s going to tell you off, kick you out, and you’ll probably never see him again. You’ve ruined the first real friendship you’ve had in years.
“I want you to know”, Tony was saying, though Stephen could barely register that he was speaking. “That, um…Stephen?” The sorcerer was pulled out of his mind fully when he felt Tony’s feather-light touch on his wrist. “You okay, there?”
Stephen swallowed. He wasn’t okay. His heart and head were throbbing, panicking with the emotional devastation he knew was coming.
“Yeah, just fine.”
“Okay”, Tony said, smiling softly at his lie. “I just thought that it would, uh…be good to tell you that it’s been nice to have you around lately.” He swallowed, looking down at his hands for a second, not noticing Stephen do the same. “The, uh, the past six months have been…a little rough. I mean, you know that. You’ve been here.” Here his hand dropped from Stephen’s wrist to his knee and Stephen began to get the idea that maybe Tony wasn’t telling him to get lost.
“And before that”, Tony continued, sniffing quietly, Stephen looking at him in quiet horror as his emotions did a one-eighty. “Well, I mean, when you weren’t here…and Peter. That was bad, too. Worse, I mean.” His eyes met Stephen’s and there was a deep, vulnerable sadness in those big, brown eyes, warm like amber, dark like his morning coffee.
“Tony”, Stephen interjected, voice wavering with uncertainty. “Why are you saying this now?” This dumbfounded Tony into silence for a moment, but he quickly recovered as he understood Stephen’s confusion.
“I, well, Pepper and I have been talking lately, um, about how we’ve really liked having you around after…everything. And, you know, after everything that’s happened, what we’ve been through, uh, on Titan and all that, I want you to know where we, uh, stand, I guess.” He noticed how tense Stephen’s wrist had gone under his touch and pulled his hand back slowly. He is kicking you out, after all, Stephen’s mind told him. You’re nothing but a burden to him and you’re cutting in on his time with his family. They’re not your family. You don’t deserve them. Or him.
“I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out”, Tony said, half nervous and half joking, his tone falling somewhere in the middle. “I just feel like there’s a lot that’s unsaid between us and I wanted to…say some of it?” He cracked an uncertain grin, watching as Stephen’s mind whirled, brow furrowed as he tried to ignore what his mind was telling him.
“You, uh…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You actually don’t mind me coming over?” There was a deathly vulnerability in the blue-green eyes looking at him, wide with apprehension and something close to fear, but not of Tony, never Tony. Rejection, maybe? Everything in Tony deflated as he realized just how much they’d been leaving unsaid between them, the doubt of being wanted tinging all of Stephen’s interactions with him since the battle.
“You’re - yes, you’re always welcome here. Pep and I keep inviting you over, don’t we?”
“You could just be pitying me.” Stephen’s retort was cold, but it was also obvious he didn’t want to believe his own words.
“You’re a hard man to pity, Strange”, Tony said, voice even. “Proud as a mountain, my old man used to say about people.” He could see in his eyes that the sorcerer still didn’t believe him. “We want you here.” He grabbed his wrist again, gently. “I want you here.”
Stephen blinked once, eyes dropping to where Tony’s thumb had started absently brushing over the top of his scarred hand. He never pulled away from his scars, not like other people did; the cashier at the grocery store, another sorcerer he’d go to shake hands with. All little things, but they still hurt. Not believing what he was hearing, Stephen tried to back-peddle, find an alternate route, anything to avoid what he felt would only end in hurt and rejection. It was too good to be true.
“Harley doesn’t like having me around. You see him…” Tony frowned slightly, but his eyes were warm, eyebrows drawing together.
“It’s not up to him. And he’ll get over it, he just needs to be a dramatic teenager about it all first.”
Stephen felt his chest being squeezed by anxiety, but the hope in his heart was pushing outward just as hard, making his chest feel full, though quavering slightly, as he let himself look Tony in the eyes. Keeping his soft grip on his wrist, Tony’s other hand had moved to rest on Stephen’s knee, innocent enough, but it made the sorcerer’s blood race.
“Pepper…”, he resisted weakly, swimming in confusion.
“She likes you too. Like I said, we’ve been talking. We’ve agreed that, well, you and I could see how things go while you and her get to know each other more.” He said this so calmly that Stephen wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. In all reality, Tony’s heart was thudding like a runaway freight train, but his calm gaze didn’t betray that.
“How…things go?”, Stephen asked, brow quirking. Tony looked down pointedly at his own hand on the sorcerer’s knee.
“Things”, he confirmed. “Like, uh, I don’t know. Getting to know each other more? Spending more time together? Dating?” His voice betrayed him as it cracked huskily on the last word. Tony cleared his throat and met Stephen’s eyes, everything in him soft and unsure, but sincere. “Can I ask you on a date, Doctor Strange?” He tried to make it sound almost joking by using Stephen’s title, like he did most things, especially when he was uncomfortable, but it came out choked. Stephen noticed how vulnerable he looked, dark eyes glistening with something that might have been tears.
“I thought you were going to tell me I’d overstayed my welcome”, Stephen admitted with a nervous laugh, eyes twinkling as Tony gave him a shocked look.
“What? Oh, my god, I-. No, I lo-I really like having you here.” His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest now. “And Peter always looks forward to your visits, he always asks when you’re going to be staying for dinner. Morgan loves you already.” There, that was easier. That was okay to say. Too soon for him to say it. Too much, but not enough between them. While Tony checked himself, Stephen felt tears forming disobediently in his eyes, chest overwhelmingly full, aching as he choked on Tony’s sincerity.
“Really?”, he asked, voice croaking. He’d seen what could only be love shining in the little girl’s dark eyes, when she came to greet him on the porch, when she told him stories at the dinner table, but he didn’t dare believe it.
“‘Course she does, why wouldn’t she?” His voice was warm, reassuring, but it also broke as he realized how much the sorcerer really didn’t believe it.
“That’s a big can of worms you’re opening there, Tony.”
Tony’s heart broke a little more at Stephen’s joking tone, the quiet grief in his eyes, but tried to keep the mood light-hearted.
“So, is that a yes to the date?”
“Pepper said yes?”
“Pepper said yes”, Tony assured. “She’ll be coming on them too, eventually. She just wants to know you as a close friend for a little longer before that happens.” Stephen’s world was whirling, but he found it again in Tony’s eyes, daring himself to reach his hand out to rest on Tony’s, still on his knee. He closed the gap, let out a breath, felt the warmth of Tony’s hand under his shaking fingers. Tony’s features softened with a smile, tilting his head questioningly with a slightly raised brow.
“Yes”, Stephen said huskily, surprising himself with how close to tears he sounded. Tony’s heart twinged acutely, squeezing his knee slightly.
“Oh, Stephen…” His voice was sad, not just for the man beside him, but for the doubt he felt, with himself and the love others had for him. He was sad for the time they had lost, years spent dead and those same years spent crying over a man he’d known for a day. His heart ached with all the lost time and chances to know each other, chances at memories which could still happen.
Tony was leaned forward, breath bated, fingers now thoroughly interlocked with Stephen’s, their incessant trembling nearly stopped. The sorcerer noticed this, something like relief and disbelief mixing in his eyes, settling on gratitude as he met Tony’s eyes again.
“Can I kiss you?”, Tony all but whispered, the soft awe of a man who had worked hard and suffered greatly for the privilege of the love of the people in his life. So different from any cocky facade he’d ever put on, as scared inside as he’d ever been, through all his years of anxiety and trauma, leading up through the worst times of his life to this moment. But it was different too, because now there was a reassuring sturdiness, a warmth in his chest which he recognized as safety. Safe love. The love of someone who wouldn’t use their influence on him to betray him in the end.
Stephen didn’t answer, just leaned forward as they met in a tender kiss. Everything was new, but their touches felt as if they were a thousand years old, written in the stars, in the very fabric of the universe, the dust which wrote eternity into being and had inevitably entwined their fates together. Because this moment was fresh, happening with the safety of something that would happen a million times after this, but with the same liberation and grounding as it did the very first time.
Tony deepened their kiss, lifting his free hand to press against Stephen’s chest, feeling the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He slid his hand up further, alongside Stephen’s neck, fingers gentle on his skin before reaching to cup the back of his head. He breathed through his nose slowly as Stephen replicated the motion in turn, lifting both hands to either side of his face, framing Tony’s jaw gently with trembling fingers.
Tony’s heart was thudding like it never had, heavy and aching, tasting salt on Stephen’s lips as a tear snuck its way down his cheek. Embarrassed, the sorcerer pulled back slightly, but Tony held him still. He looked him in the eyes, a blue-green, tear-filled galaxy looking back at him.
“It’s okay”, Tony told him, kissing his chin, his facial hair, the corner of his mouth. “You’re okay.” Gently parted lips met his again, soft and tentative. Tony relished in the sensation of their scruff gently scratching together, feeling Stephen’s heart beating hard under his hand.
“You’re safe”, Tony told him when they parted again, foreheads pressed together as they breathed. “I want to keep you safe.” It was a silent plead. The closest Tony Stark had ever come to begging was asking this man to be alive for him, to outlive the perils of his job for them to have a life together, a future that was worth something more than painful, guilt-filled nights alone in the Sanctum. Sleepless nights where he let his body rest in a chair, Levi draped over him, his astral form pouring over texts on the good nights. Bad nights saw him wandering the halls, regretting and hating his past, himself, things he had done.
Stephen bit back a sob at his words, because that was Tony’s problem. His life-long death wish, his reckless, self-sacrificing attitude. He always wanted to keep others safe, but never thought of himself except for with self-loathing. ’You’re worth so much more alive’, Stephen wanted to tell him. He’d almost lost him in this timeline because Tony would always be the one to make the sacrifice play, wielding the infinity gauntlet to make the ultimate sacrifice. Depression was something else, something Stephen wasn’t unfamiliar with, and it played so much into Tony’s behaviour.
“Only if you let me keep you safe too”, Stephen muttered, voice breaking. Tony nodded, hand on his shoulder as he took in the weight of his words. “Promise me.” Tony looked up at him.
“I promise”, he said without missing a beat.
They met in another kiss, more thorough, slower than the last one. Tony tasted hot chocolate in Stephen’s mouth, knowing he must taste like that as well, also salty from the popcorn. Stephen pulled him closer with a hand on his shoulder and Tony groaned in response, a sound which shot colour to the sorcerer’s defined cheek bones. They pulled back, Tony’s eyes a little hazy as he allowed himself a small grin, matched by Stephen’s as he ducked his head in embarrassment.
“I don’t want to leave you on the couch now”, Tony said, longingly, teasingly. “Pep’ll be home soon, though. I promised her we’d take this slow.” He pressed his lips to Stephen’s again despite himself. “Very slow”, he repeated, more as a reminder to himself. Fear suddenly shot through Stephen as he thought of something.
“What’ll you tell the kids?”
“We won’t tell them anything yet. Morgan’s little and the boys are old enough to be mature about it when they do find out.”
“You sound very confident that this is going to work out the way you’re planning”, Stephen rasped, as he couldn’t help but tease the other man.
“I’d say we’ve been through the worst of what life is gonna throw at us, Doc. I hope”, he added quickly.
“Me too.”
There was a moment of comfortable silence as they sat, still half on top of each other. Tony glanced at the clock. 10:27 pm. Pepper should be home soon. She had work tomorrow, consisting of meetings in the city, and he needed to get up early to get Morgan ready for a doctor’s appointment.
“I should go to bed’, he told Stephen absently.
“I’ll be here tomorrow”, the sorcerer responded, gesturing with both hands at the couch, his bed whenever he spent the night as there was only one guest room. Tony softened as he looked at him, leaning over for another chaste kiss, before making himself stand up from the couch.
“Hey, Tony”, Stephen said quietly. “When’s our date?”
Tony responded with a grin. “When do you want it to be, Doc?”
“I have to be at the Sanctum for the next couple nights, but I’m free Thursday.”
“Thursday night then. I’ll pick you up.”
They shared another soft smile, another look that promised breakfast tomorrow, a phone call on Tuesday when Tony had a bad anxiety attack, their first date on Thursday night, at a little Italian place that Tony loved, and to the rest of their lives together. They both went to sleep that night, not lying in the same bed, but the kisses and the promises had been enough. Enough to keep anxiety and nightmares and guilt at bay for tonight at least, and many nights into the future.