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Stephen couldn’t have said no. There was no way. It was Tony’s birthday, afterall. And when Tony had looked up at him with those beautiful amber doe eyes of his- that had been the final straw. Stephen had taken the small grey bag and retreated into the bathroom, a sticky sense of dread washing over him.
He took a deep breath, heavy waves of insecurity filling his heart. He fiddled with the soft edge of his bathrobe, refusing to look at the bag. His eyes flickered up and met the gaze of his reflection. He looked about as comfortable as he felt. He didn’t want to do this. He hated the very thought. It made his stomach burn and his skin chill.
But this was for Tony. And for Tony… for Tony he’d do anything.
He took a shallow breath and slowly reached into the bag, pushing aside pearly tissue paper with shaking hands to reveal folds of navy silk.
He closed his eyes, biting his lip hard enough to bleed. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want Tony to see him like this. His lungs stuttered and his hands flew to his face in shame. His stomach furled in on itself, clenching painfully, his tingling skin a cruel reminder of all his flaws. His breath quickened, panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t do this.
But Tony…
He loved Tony so much. They’d been through so much- both together and alone- and it was a miracle that they’d found each other. They were so similar, yet so different. Tony was the sun. Stephen was the moon. Tony was the bright, endless warmth of summer. Stephen was the cold, distant winter wind. Where Tony found confidence, Stephen only saw insecurity. But despite their differences they fit together like two pieces of a cracked glass, edges jagged, yet perfectly aligned. They were made for each other and Stephen would do anything for Tony. He would swim to the depths of the ocean, or hurl himself into space. He would sacrifice all of time and reality just to see Tony smile.
So why couldn’t he bring himself to do this one thing?
Well the answer to that was simple. He was afraid if Tony saw him, saw who he really was, he’d leave Stephen. So many people had already filed him away into the category of ‘broken goods,’ Stephen himself included.
But Tony had always been so gentle. On the days when Stephen’s hands shook and ached so badly he couldn’t bring himself to hold a pen Tony would always be there with a hot pack and comforting words. Stephen let out a long, tired sigh. His hands were one thing. But the rest of him… that was another matter entirely.
He stood, taking a deep, measured breath before reaching into the bag and pulling out the lacy lingerie set with trembling hands.
A wave of quiet dread washed over him.
They were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Silky and tantalisingly transparent in the front and delicate lace in the back, held together on the sides by tiny silver ribbons. Stephen shivered. Tony would be able to see everything. His shaking hand ghosted over a jagged scar on his lower hip. Everything.
He ran his hands over the soft silk, shattered nerves tightening painfully. So perfect. Like the deep folds of the Atlantic ocean. He let out a soft sigh and pulled his hand back.
For Tony.
Stephen turned to the mirror and untied his robe, letting it slide down his slim figure and onto the cold tile floor. His heart dropped the second he saw himself. Sure his hands had been the main victim, but his accident had damaged far more than that.
Delicate scars, as lacey as the edges of snowflakes, littered his pale chest like fractures on a porcelain plate. The raised skin was pink and uneven, twisted and sharp and agonizingly beautiful. Like brushstrokes over the pale canvas of his marred skin.
One. The jagged laceration from the impact of the ridge of plastic dashboard that had smashed into his chest.
Two. The long surgical cut the doctors had made to slip past his ribs and into his lung where slivers of bone had lodged themselves in the clusters of alvioles.
Three, four, five- a hundred. A thousand. The places the glass from the windshield had shattered, shards cutting through his shirt and suit and into the delicate flesh beneath. They covered his chest and his legs and his arms and God- Stephen bit his lip, nails digging into his arms like ice.
He was damaged goods. And now Tony would see that.
He staggered forwards, hands landing on the icy porcelain of the sink. Right next to the fragile, delicate fabric of his gift. So beautiful. The sight of the shimmering fabric next to his scarred hands made him sick to his stomach.
But it was for Tony. And for Tony he would do anything.
He raised his hands and slowly, agonizingly, he began to dress himself in the sapphire silk.
They’d had sex before. But on the contrary to what everyone (the media, the Avengers, etc.) seemed to think, they didn’t fuck like bunnies. Instead they found solace in the softer parts of companionship. The warmth of a full bed. The glowing peace of sharing breakfast and dinner. The satisfying rapor of intellectual equality. Sure they did have sex, they’d been dating for about a year and a half, after all, but it was always few and far between. Probably because of Stephen’s problems. But when they did get in the mood Stephen had always managed to find some way to darken the room. Some way to draw the curtains or cover the lamps until they couldn’t see anything except the occasional flash of city lights and the dim glow of Tony’s arc reactor. The frantic, needy hands roaming over his torso, touch as light as the wings of a butterfly, hadn’t ever been purposeful enough to reveal any details further than the slick gloss of perspiration. And that had been fine.
But he couldn’t avoid it any longer. The whole point of this gift was to be seen. To be touched. To be unwrapped.
He stepped back, opening his eyes to examine his form.
Disgusting.
Even without the scars he was hideous. Skinny to the point of discomfort, ribs jutting out in ugly ridges, unlike Tony, whose torso was filled out with lean muscle. His skin was the gruesome shade of skim milk, so pale he looked like death. Tony’s skin was warm and tan, like the softest shades of dark gold. Stephen was lanky and tall, like a skeleton out of its cage. Tony was the perfect size, movements sure and graceful and compact. Tony was beautiful. Stephen couldn’t even compare.
The navy of the panties was dark against his pale skin, turning it an even uglier shade in comparison. The fabric was stretched tight across the ridges of his pelvis, jutting out from his torso just like the aberrations all his bones seemed intent to form. Everything was on display. Everything from the tiniest scar to the hideous twist of his muscles. His jaw clenched and he hugged his body.
The thin navy stockings clung to his thighs, barely concealing the wasteland of imperfections beneath. They made his skin look so pale it was like rice paper. There was a top to the ensemble too. A loose-fitting translucent babydoll that dripped like fire over his skin, shifting to hide his torso. At least there was that. But there was still far too much visible for Stephen’s taste. Normally the many, many layers he wore concealed his skin. Tony may have vehemently complained multiple times about the pain of having to undress him, but there was a reason he covered himself with so much fabric. It was the only way he felt comfortable anymore.
But maybe this could still work. If he moved fast- pushed back against Tony enough- perhaps they could accelerate the foreplay and skip straight to the bedroom. Stephen was sure that once they were there he could find a way to dim the lights.
“Stephen? Babe? Are you alright in there?”
Stephen froze, waves of dread crashing against his heart. Everything would be okay. It would all be over soon.
“Yes love. Just… getting comfortable,” he called back, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.
“Okay. Just… come out soon please, Steph. Not gonna lie, all this waiting’s driving me a little stir-crazy,” Tony laughed.
The sound cut through Stephen’s heart like glass. Tony was so good. So much better than Stephen could ever be. And after he saw Stephen tonight- he’d realise that he could do so much more than settle for someone so damaged. So broken.
Tears rose to his eyes and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to distract himself with the pain. He sniffled, quickly wiping his eyes with the palm of his hands. What would he do when Tony left him? Tony was the only one who truly understood him. The only one he’d been able to open up to since the accident. The only one he could bring himself to trust. The tears were coming faster now, and a choked sob rose to his throat.
“Stephen?! Are you okay?” Tony’s frantic voice pulled another ragged sob from his chest.
“I-I- Everything- everything’s okay,” he called back, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.
“Bullshit. I’m coming in.”
Stephen’s entire body froze. That was the last thing he wanted. He lunged for the door but before he could do anything Tony pushed it open. Stephen flinched and backed up until he hit the shower, hands fluttering first to his face, then snapping downwards to cover as much of his marred torso as possible.
Tony stopped, face melting the second he saw Stephen.
“Oh Stephen… baby… you’re so beautiful.”
He stepped forwards, reaching out to caress Stephen’s cheek. Stephen flinched violently, stumbling backwards, slamming his elbow into the glass door of the shower. Tears dripped down his cheeks faster and faster, hot and acidic against his skin.
“Don’t- don’t-” The rest of his words were drowned by the shuddering gasps of his lungs along with the intermediate choking sob.
Tony switched gears, transitioning from anticipation to comfort within seconds. He stepped forwards, movements soothing, getting as close to Stephen as he could while still giving the other man space to breath. His eyes shone softly under the harsh lights of the bathroom.
“Shh… Shh…” Tony whispered, voice low and comforting.
Stephen clutched his sides, digging his nails into his flesh. His mind was so tired and Tony’s voice was as soft as melting chocolate. He found himself leaning into it, trying to anchor himself to reality as the world spun around him. He hung his head, mind beginning to slow.
“I-I’m sorry,” he gasped, falling into Tony’s arms. Tony held him close as he cried, running a gentle hand through his hair, whispering soft words of comfort to him as he exhausted his misery.
Eventually his sobs slowed and as his thoughts slowed with them, the panic that left his system was replaced with dread. They were sitting in the tub now, Stephen curled up in Tony’s arms, head tucked close to his boyfriends chest as Tony rubbed soft circles on his back. It was a little awkward, but no matter how cramped they were, Stephen relished the warmth of Tony’s core, stark against the cold porcelain of the bathtub.
But that wouldn’t last. It never would.
“I-I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice ragged and wet.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry I forced you to do something you weren’t comfortable with.”
Another sob lodged itself in Stephen’s throat. That wasn’t what was wrong. Why couldn’t Tony see that?!
Tony’s hand faltered on Stephen’s back and Stephen closed his eyes, well aware of what would come next. The bright lights of the bathroom were the worst confidants.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tony asked. His voice was barely louder than the hum of the air conditioner. Stephen’s heart sank like a broken ship. This was where everything would crash and burn.
Stephen bit his lip hard enough to bleed, pressing his head to Tony’s chest. The steady hum of his arc reactor, a sound that usually calmed Stephen, only heightened his anxiety.
“Hey it’s okay, Steph. We don’t have to talk about it now. Why don’t you go change and cuddle up in bed? I’ll make you hot chocolate with a scoop of ice cream. Just how you like it.”
Stephen’s ears rang. He clenched his hands into fists, nails digging tiny crescents in his palms. His nerves ached, but the pain was a welcome distraction.
“No.”
Even he was surprised by the resolution in his voice.
“Huh?”
“We need to talk about this.” Maybe if Stephen could end things before Tony it would hurt less. But he couldn’t seem to find the words. It was like his very throat was smothering his voice for fear of repercussions. His entire body shook, every nerve on fire with glassy dread.
But actions spoke louder than words.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he hung his head and shifted his arms away from his torso, fingers catching on the thin, gauzy fabric of the babydoll. He blinked, trying to resist the urge to shove Tony away and curl up in a ball.
Instead he watched as Tony’s eyes flickered first to his face, filled with quiet concern, then back down to his scarred chest. Those beautiful amber eyes- the color of the sun as it melted into the mahogany horizon- traced every line of his figure, every imperfection, every detail eagerly devoured by the gaze of his love. Tony let out a slow, breathy sigh, hazy and warm against the cold of the bathroom. His hands drifted to Stephen’s sides almost subconsciously. Stephen flinched backwards as the calloused tips touched his ribs, albeit less violently than before, but his reaction was enough for Tony to pull back his hands and his face to twist with concern. A tiny whimper lodged itself in Stephen’s throat and he lip in a desperate attempt to hold it in. He was broken enough as it is, and the steady hum of silence was better than any reactions Tony could provide. Stephen didn’t want to provoke opinion before it was needed.
They sat like that for a few, excruciating seconds, Stephen on display to Tony’s longing gaze. Stephen despised it with every fiber of his being.
“God Stephen…” Stephen closed his eyes in preparation for the words to come. “You’re incredible.”
Stephen’s head jerked up, eyes, once soft and shameful, sharp and disbelieving.
“What?!”
“You’re goddamn gorgeous,” Tony sighed, eyes still roaming Stephen’s chest.
“No.” Stephen’s jaw tightened and he looked back down at his hands. “No I’m not.”
Tony finally tore his gaze away from Stephen’s body and up to meet Stephen’s eyes. Stephen tried to find dishonesty in those honey colored irises but all he saw was confusion.
“I disagree,” Tony whispered, leaning in to lift the gauzy front of the babydoll. Stephen didn’t flinch.
Tony’s breath was hot on his neck, tantalizingly close yet so far, separated by the boundary of insecurity. Stephen’s lungs stuttered as Tony slipped his hands under the fabric, fingers tracing patterns across his scarred skin. It was so nice to lean into Tony’s touch; to fall into his arms and dissolve as Tony carefully undid him, deft and sure in his ministrations. So easy. So much simpler than addressing problems. Stephen shuddered, breaths coming in short gasps as Tony ran his hands down to Stephen’s hips. He was so warm and Stephen was so, so cold. It would be so easy to just let Tony take over and… and… No.
They couldn’t. They had to talk about this.
Stephen closed his eyes and stilled. Tony stopped, eyes flickering open.
“Steph… what’s wrong?”
“I can’t…” he whispered.
“Can’t what?” Tony pressed.
“I don’t understand. How do you love me like this?” Stephen said, gesturing down at his pale, scar-ridden torso.
“What? I think you’re beautiful.”
Stephen’s heart twisted in anger.
“I’m not.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you keep saying that?”
“I-I-” Stephen struggled to find the words. Too skinny. Too scarred. To broken. “I’m damaged goods,” he muttered. “My hands are already enough of a burden for you. Why should you have to put up with an imperfect lover, as well?”
Tony let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. He sat back in the tub and took Stephen’s hands in his own, running his thumbs gently over the raised scar tissue of Stephen’s internal fixations.
“That, Stephen, is utter bullshit. You’re not a burden. You’re not ‘damaged.’ You’re perfect. Sure some parts of you have been scarred, but they’ve healed over.” His hands fluttered across a scar on Stephen’s stomach. “And you’re stronger for it.”
Stephen smiled softly, weak blue eyes flickering up to meet Tony’s sparkling ones. His hand closed gently around Stephen’s trembling digits.
“Besides, that doesn’t matter to me. I love you for you, Stephen. Your mind is what attracted me to you, not for your body.” He paused, eyes twinkling. “Well, that too, but that’s less important. A pretty face and a perfect body isn’t going to keep up with my intellect. You’re the only one that can do that, Stephen. You can match me, blow for blow in wits, science, sarcasm- anything. You’re the only person who’s been able to do that in years- strike that- ever. You’re perfect, Stephen.”
“But my scars-”
Tony let out a short laugh. “You think I care about that?” Stephen’s heart fluttered. Tony let go of his hands and reached down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
Stephen felt like hitting himself. Tony cast his shirt aside, the glow of the arc reactor spilling out across the tub. Scars littered his chest, much like Stephen’s, most notably, a large, curved scar that ran directly under Tony’s reactor. Stephen’s shaking hands traced it tentatively. Sokovia. He had forgotten that Tony had been through just as much- if not more than him. But Tony always seemed so confident. So sure of himself, whereas Stephen couldn’t even wear a T-shirt without feeling exposed. He hung his head, tears threatening to spill from his eyes once more.
“I’m so sorry, Tony. I forgot-”
Tony smiled softly, folding Stephen’s hands over his reactor. “That’s because it doesn’t matter. You don’t see me as scarred and I don’t see you that way either. We’re all damaged, some more so than others. But the important part is that we’ve healed, and that we’ve grown stronger. Scars don’t define you, only what you’ve been through.”
Tears pricked Stephen’s eyes again, but this time they were borne of love, not fear. A smile grew on his face. Tony loved him. Tony didn’t care about all his imperfections. It was like a million years of stress had been lifted from his shoulders. Stress he hadn’t even known he had held, yet now, he sensed had been ever present in their relationship. An unconscious fear that Tony would leave him. Abandon him in light of his defects. But instead- instead Tony had taken those defects and crafted them into something beautiful, something to be proud of. That itself was the grandest gesture Tony had ever granted him, the wonder of his mind’s creation. Of Tony’s genius shift in perspective. His ability to morph even the greatest fears into the most beautiful flowers.
Stephen wrapped his arms around the shorter man, burying his head in the crook of Tony’s collarbone. He was torn between laughing and crying, large, hiccuping gasps escaping his lips. Tony wasn’t going to leave him.
Stephen leaned back, clasping Tony’s face in his hands. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips, the gesture full of hope and undiluted trust. Warmth rushed through Stephen’s cold body, like the sun emerging from the clouds to shine upon lakes of ice. Stephen pulled back, smiling ear to ear. Tony’s eyes shone back, amber soft and satisfied upon seeing the love of his life so happy. Stephen leaned his forehead against Tony’s, happy tears dripping from his eyes. Somehow the gesture was more intimate than the kiss.
“I love you,” he whispered, meaning every word. Tony smiled, warmth radiating from his eyes.
“I love you too,” he replied, voice lacking its usual sarcastic cadence, instead replaced by earnest devotion.
They sat there for a while as Stephen’s tears slowed once more, and until his heart and mind quieted, blurred by the onset of exhaustion. Tony was content to hold him there in the bathtub, running his hands through his boyfriends silky hair. Eventually Stephen’s tears stopped once and for all and he relaxed into Tony’s embrace, accepting that the ordeal was over.
Stephen shifted in Tony’s lap, pulling the other man as close as possible. The bathroom lights, although still uncomfortable, lacked their initial fear. But perhaps… if they were to move to the bedroom…
“Do you still want your birthday present love?” he whispered, adding a tantalizing lilt to his voice. He felt Tony stiffen under his touch, then his chest rose and fell with a soft chuckle.
“I dunno babe. Aren’t you tired?”
Stephen smiled.
He was right. Stephen was fucking exhausted, but Tony deserved something special after today. Tony had accepted Stephen for who he was, cracks, fractures and all. And although it would certainly take Stephen time to feel comfortable in his own skin again, the fact that Tony still cared for him was consolation enough for the time being.