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“I miss being pretty,” Tony groaned, fingers tracing the scars left by the stones. Running over ridges and dipping into crevices that didn’t used to be there. Intricate webbings of flesh marred by a power he shouldn’t have been capable of using. Yet he used it anyway and defeated the being which haunted him for over half a decade.
He hadn’t expected to survive. He managed that too.
Stephen laughed, “You still are.”
”No, no I’m not. I look like two-face from The Dark Knight.” Tony retorted, eyes glancing away from the bathroom mirror to the man standing behind him.
Stephen’s brow pinched, “There may be some resemblance,” he said after a moment of consideration, receiving an elbow in the gut for it.
“Asshole.”
“Douchebag.”
Tony’s mouth twitched, “Don’t make me laugh this isn’t funny.”
Stephen smiled lightly, “It really is.”
“It’s really not.” Tony said, dejected now and Stephen’s own expression shifted with him.
The sorcerer released a sigh, “Ok, fine. What do you see when you look at those scars?”
Tony’s brow furrowed, confused now, he twisted around to properly face the man, “Not following,” he said.
“Is that just a big ugly scar or is there a really incredible story behind it?”
Tony’s lips pursed, “I—get your point. But it’s not like I did it alone.”
“Sure, but what you did, what you were willing to lose for our victory, is why we won.” Stephen said, “So I see your resilience when I look at your scars. Not ugliness. Just your strength of will. What do you see?”
“An ugly layer of nasty.” Tony deadpanned.
Stephen blinked, then he laughed. A loud, burst of a laugh which pulled even the slightest smile onto Tony’s lips.
Shaking his head Stephen raised a shaky hand to Tony’s cheek. The scarred one. He didn’t flinch at the touch, though he shut his eyes for a moment. Allowed the physical contact to comfort him rather than scare him. Because it didn’t. Not anymore.
Reopening them he met the gaze of his wizard lover as a thumb swiped over the ridges, the ravines, of his scars. With the touches came a sense of peace that he rarely ever felt. Even now. Even retired, he often found it difficult to breathe, the only respite he had was within his husband’s embrace. The cool of his gaze and care in his chest.
Leaning into Stephen’s hand he eventually drawled, “Ok, fine. I guess I can live without being pretty.”
Stephen rolled his eyes before leaning forward to lightly kiss him, missing his mouth entirely and moving instead over to his marred flesh.
The action made Tony’s chest tighten, eyes shut, fingers twitch like he wanted to push the man away, instead all he did was pull him closer. He wasn’t sure he’d ever lose the habit of wanting to push away anything good, anything right. But even so, he’d never stop pulling Stephen in.
Stephen moved his mouth from Tony’s cheek up further towards the scars which crawled over his temple and around his eye. Tony’s face was heated with a million emotions, not all of which felt like grief, not all of which felt like fears of abandonment, not all of which felt like his traumas attempting to swallow him whole. Most of which, felt like appreciation, felt like love, felt like understanding, felt like trust in the man touching him.
“I love you,” Stephen murmured between the butterfly kisses he delivered on Tony’s face, moving back down to his neck too, “all of you.”
Tony’s breath stuttered, it felt like his skin was on fire, like the power of the stones was still sending currents through him, only this time it didn’t burn, it didn’t destroy, it warmed.
“I know,” he said, “I love you too.”
Stephen smiled against his skin, “good,” he said as he finally moved to kiss Tony properly.
Tony relaxed fully into the kiss which grew more heated the longer Stephen held him. Maybe the scarring wasn’t so bad if all the man touching him could see were marks of resilience and strength instead of ugly pathways from borrowed power.
However...”I still miss being pretty..” Tony said as he pulled back from the kiss, earning a severe eyeroll for it before Stephen laughed exasperatedly.
“You still are,” Stephen said, like he’d say it a million times more if he had to, like it was simple truth.
Really, who was Tony to argue with the Sorcerer supreme?