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Now that things had fallen into place—so to speak—it was easier to look back and figure out where their part in the Time Heist had gone so wrong; a prospect that was easier to accept that their plan had fallen to shambles.
The thing with plans, after all, was that sticking to them required an amount of rigidity to ensure their success. And, when that rigidity ultimately failed the test this time—it required impromptu adjustments. Normally they were good at thinking on their feet, hell, that's how they'd ended up in the 1970s. Quick thinking and a dash of luck.
That luck had seemingly run dry.
Sitting in the unforgiving steel chair, before a similarly unforgiving table, polished to a high sheen, Steve was toying with his aviator glasses. He listened as Tony tried his damnedest to schmooze and charm them out of this particular predicament. As usual, Tony was all pomp and sass and the flash of teeth in smiles that didn't actually reach his eyes. That was normal, something Steve had come to respect—hell even admire over the years.
What wasn't normal was the fact that it wasn't working.
The disaffected man that sat across from them at the table was leaning back in his own chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his lips twisted in a frown. Or he assumed it was a frown, anyway. The bushy mustache that framed his upper lip didn't make it all that clear one way or the other. But, he certainly wasn't smiling.
That, Steve could guarantee.
Just as a final charming quip landed with little more than a twitch of that same bushy mustache, the man leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as his fingers steepled before him on the table.
"Look, Mr… uhh."
"Potts."
"Yes. Mr. Potts. I don't know how things normally go for you, but trying to kiss my ass to get out of here isn't going to help you. The only way you’re getting out of this room is if you and your companion explain why you infiltrated our facility, why we found the artifact on you, and why we found vials of Pym Particles on him."
"And, by leave, I presume you mean in cuffs?" Tony quipped in reply, much of his previous energy seeping out of his demeanor as he sat back in his chair and rubbed his palms over the tops of his thighs.
"Yes," the man replied, the word blunt and unforgiving.
It hung in the air between them a moment and then Tony tutted, as if his impression of the situation held any bearing.
"Yeah. See, no can do. I only let very specific people put me in cuffs. And you definitely aren't one of them."
Briefly, Steve felt the urge to snort at the response. In the past, such a statement would have left him scandalized. But now, he only found it amusing—if not a little intriguing.
Just as the man made to respond, his brows coming together in frustration, Steve cut in.
"I'll tell you why."
As the words left his lips, he watched Tony's head whip toward him in surprise. And, at the same time the man encouraged him to say more.
"Please. By all means."
"Ste—"
Before Tony could get more of his name out, Steve was gripping him near his knee, encouraging him to stay quiet. A second later, he audibly heard Tony's mouth shut.
"My name is Steven Grant Rogers, I fought in World War II with the Howling Commandos. I am Captain America from a different timeline and the man sitting next to me fights alongside me in that timeline as well. They call him Iron Man. In our time it's 2023, and we are trying to get back all the people we lost as a result of losing a battle we never should have… We need the cube to help us get them back. And we need the particles to get back to our correct time."
It seemed like minutes passed in silence as the man's eyes gradually grew wider, and his mouth finally fell open in what Steve could only guess was either surprise or disbelief. Perhaps even both. Frankly, Steve couldn't blame him.
A moment later the shrill sound of metal scraping haphazardly over concrete punctured the silence and the once disaffected man stumbled upright, looking harried. He barely mumbled an 'Excuse me a moment', before he was rushing out of the room—the lock clicking back into place as he left.
"His upper lip was twitching so much, it looked like his mustache was trying to crawl off his face." Tony finally commented, as the rush of footsteps faded away from behind the door.
This time, Steve did snort, his lips twisting in an amused smile. Only then did he realize he still had his hand on Tony's leg and after a moment longer he removed it. Reluctantly.
When he looked up, Tony was looking at him, his expression unreadable. Shifting in his seat, Steve returned the gaze, his pale brow inclining. A few seconds later, it hit him.
"We didn't really have a choice at this point, Tony. Lying low be damned," he finally said, watching Tony's expression fall into a frown.
"Did you even consider what telling them all of that would do to this timeline?"
"Of course I di—"
"Because, I don't think you actually did. It could only have been worse if you'd told them where to find their version of you some forty years earlier."
Steve stayed silent, his lips slowly pulling into something clearly chagrined. And Tony immediately picked up on it. Of course, he did, they were good at reading each other a majority of the time and in comparison to Tony, Steve was practically always an open book.
"You're going to tell them." Not a question, a statement.
"Yeah."
"I'm the one who got hit with a Hulk, but it's you talking bullshit. Why the fuck would you do that?"
"Because he deserves to not have to wait until 2011 to be saved. Because, maybe he'll have a better adjustment and be happier sooner. Because, maybe, just maybe, him being around will keep Howard from falling into drinking and keep him from his… moods. Because… Even you deserve a better version of me when the Chitauri come. Instead of the scared, confused, and lonely version that lashed out over every little thing."
Briefly, Tony looked taken aback at the answer. As if he hadn't expected Steve's reasoning—and perhaps his sincerity as well. Then he was crossing his arms over his chest and nodding slightly.
"I always thought you hated me when we first met.”
“I’ve never hated you… But, I certainly didn’t like you at the time. S.H.I.E.L.D. is partially to blame for that fact. Though you didn’t exactly help my first impression of you in Stuttgart. Or in the Quinjet a little after that.”
“To be fair, I wasn’t trying to make you like me at the time.”
“Considering what I now know about Howard and how he used me as a measuring stick, I can’t exactly blame you.”
For a moment, Steve could practically see the cogs in Tony’s mind turning, could see the way his lips twisted—like he wanted to say something. But, whatever that something was, it never came. Instead, Tony fell silent, lowering his head as if he were inspecting his shoes. Considering something.
Not long after, Steve could hear the approach of footsteps. The still harried stride of the man who had been questioning them and now the measured, rhythmic tap—tap—tap of what he suspected to be heels.
He couldn’t have guessed who they belonged to.
As the door opened and the man and his companion reentered the room, the distinct feeling of his heart jumping into his throat had Steve struggling to find breath. Of all the people he’d considered the mustached man to be fetching, Peggy hadn’t been one of them. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, and approaching them—getting closer in a way he hadn’t been able to do previously, when he’d been spying on her in her own office.
“Oh my god.”
The reaction was immediate, Peggy’s hands coming to cover her mouth in shock as she looked at him like she was seeing a ghost. And, in a way, she was. Her fingers trembled, and her eyes started to fill with tears.
“Hey, Peg…”
That was all he was able to get out before Peggy was in his space, her arms pulling him into a strong hug. He couldn’t help himself for giving in, for returning the hug, for cataloging the way she was strong and yet trembling in his arms. The sound of shaky, tearful breaths. It wasn’t his Peggy—not really. But, he allowed himself to soak in the connection all the same.
When they finally parted, she was cupping his face, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes as she took him in up close.
“It really is you… My god. And, yet, it isn’t. William said you came from another time.”
“I did.”
“Does that mean… Is there a ‘you’ in this time?”
“Yes.”
The look that overcame Peggy’s face then was nearly tragic. Her smile fragile, her lips twitching. But the look in her eyes. He knew that look, had seen it in the mirror staring back at him too many times since coming out of the ice. Regret, sadness—at what was lost.
At what could never be.
“You know where he is?” her voice quavered just a little, her lower lip trembling.
“I have an idea.”
This time, when she pulled him into another hug, Steve allowed his gaze to slide from the man with the mustache—presumably William—to Tony. But, where he expected a smile or even a nonchalant little quirk of Tony’s lips, instead he was met with something else entirely.
Tony’s eyes were shuttered, and his lips were twisted into something unreadable once more.
“I could make an excuse to the team, you know. Tell them you got lost in some unknown timeline.”
From where he sat in the overstuffed armchair, Steve was pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden comment. Squinting in confusion, he turned his attention to Tony, sitting across from him on the floral upholstered couch.
“Excuse me?”
For the last several hours, Tony had been silent. Nearly despondent. Refusing to meet Steve’s gaze or participate at all in any of the ensuing conversations. About where they were from, about what they aimed to do, about Steve’s frozen counterpart in the frigid waters of the arctic. But the moment Peggy had walked out of the room—to make a few calls, she’d said—he’d finally found interest in speaking again.
His gaze was absolutely stony.
“Don’t try to play dumb, Rogers. You want to stay here. I can see it every time you look at her for two seconds.”
“I definitely don’t want to stay here. I just… I missed her. I probably always will.”
“Well, you don’t have to miss her if you stay.”
Drawing in a long breath, Steve let it out in a quick huff, his jaw tightening for a moment. He didn’t understand what Tony’s issue was. Or why he was implying he should stay in the 1970s of all the truly god awful things.
“What good would it do to have two versions of me in the same timeline?”
“You could be with her.” Tony offered in reply, his shoulders shrugging a moment later. Like he knew he wasn’t making any sense or being rational at all.
“She’s married, Tony.”
“Yeah? And?”
“And,” Steve drew out the word, feeling tendrils of frustration starting to wrap themselves around his mind “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not here to ruin her relationship with her husband. And I’m definitely not here to stay. Besides, I think the me from this timeline deserves to spend more time with her than I do.”
“Well, still. We could send you back to a time when you could be.”
It took a lot for Steve to not simply give into the building indignation he felt clawing its way up his throat. In the past, he’d given into it so easily, had simply barked out replies and not taken a single second to consider what he was going to say before he said it. Tony had a penchant for being able to wind him up. Sometimes without even meaning to.
But, this time, he was absolutely meaning to.
“I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to go back in time to some past where maybe, just maybe me and Peggy would have a chance. I want to help them where I can in this timeline and then go home and bring everyone back. What the hell is your problem?”
For a handful of seconds, Tony went entirely silent, opting to not meet Steve’s eyes once more. His lips twisted, then parted, then came together again. Until, finally, he seemed to choose to actually reply, instead of outright avoiding the question.
“The lovesick puppy dog look you keep giving her. That’s my problem.”
Steve should have been pleased that he’d gotten the truth, but instead the truth left him taken aback. Of all the replies he’d been half expecting, that hadn’t been one of them. On some level he felt flabbergasted. Why would Tony even care about such a thing?
“What?”
“It’s just… irritating. The little grin, that twinkle in your eye. You don’t have to pretend that you actually want to go back to the 2020s, Steve.”
None of this was making sense. Not what Tony was saying, or the dejected way he was acting. Or the implication that Steve didn’t really want to go back. He had friends in their timeline, a life he was still trying to cobble together and… Well, this timeline didn't yet have a Tony. His did. He wasn’t willing to give that up just because he happened to miss Peggy. Just because he felt a little heartsick at what potentially could have been.
“I’m not pretending. I want to go back,” he finally ground out, barely keeping himself from grinding his teeth in irritation. It was a bad habit.
“You’ve always wanted to go back. To get back what you lost. To have the chance to live the life you wanted.”
“I wanted to, yeah. In the beginning. It’s been years, Tony. Things change. Now I want to go back to our time. And I want to get back what we lost.”
For his part, Tony couldn’t fully bite back the flickering smile that teased at the corners of his lips. Seemingly impressed by the fact that Steve had turned what he’d just implied right back onto him. But, despite that, he continued onward.
“You just don’t want to give up your cellphone and the internet.”
Rolling his eyes, Steve let out another sigh, leaning back into the plush chair and crossing his arms. Sure, the modern amenities were something he appreciated and staying in a decade like the 70s or even going further back into the 40s would be a culture shock… That wasn’t the reason why.
“That’s not why.”
“Oh? Then what could possibly have you wanting to spend out your days in a decade you still haven’t settled down into?”
“When I went down into the ice and then came out nearly a century later, I had to say goodbye to many friends. Or say goodbye to their memories at any rate. I don’t want to have to do that again. And, even if I could have it all, if I went back… Going back isn’t going to have one of the most important people in it.”
This entire conversation was convoluted and also distinctly felt like playing with fire. He was teetering on the edge of admitting something that he knew would piss Tony off. But, at this rate, he supposed it was Tony’s fault the conversation had taken such a turn in the first place. Tony’s brow inclined in intrigue, and he tilted his head a moment before finally asking;
“Yeah? And who’s that?”
“You.”
The initial response to that single word was roughly what Steve expected. A loud snort and then a scoff as Tony shook his head and seemed to bite back the urge to laugh at it. Until he looked Steve in the eye again, of course, and must have realized just how serious he was being.
“Quit bullshitting me, Steven.”
“I’m not…”
“Yeah. You are. I know damn well I am not one of the most important people in your life.”
“Then you don’t know at all.” Steve argued, warring between feeling put out and feeling pissed off at being challenged over what he knew was his truth.
“Let me get this straight. Somehow, magically, I’m one of the most important people to you. And, yet, you never bothered to try to see eye to eye with me on much of anything. You beat the ever-loving fuck out of me in Siberia. You left me there. You never tried to make amends over it. And, then, after everything, you don’t even bother to visit me for five years until you finally come to call on me because you and your pals need help. You said your farewells to me quite bluntly years ago.”
“Yeah. And I’ve regretted it ever since.”
The silence that filled the room after his confession was deafening. Tony was staring at him like he’d suddenly grown two heads. Or, perhaps, like Steve had just said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard in his life. Frankly, he couldn’t even blame him if he didn’t believe him. Steve’s track record of being a good friend to Tony in any shape or form of the word was shaky at best. And lacking, at worst.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not—”
“No, it is bullshit. Don’t fuck around with me, Rogers.”
“Goddamnit, Tony. It’s the truth. I’ve regretted every damn decision I’ve made since Leipzig. And I didn’t think you’d want to hear me out if I tried to apologize to you over the last five years. Or… Maybe, actually, I didn’t think I deserved your forgiveness.”
The fact that Tony didn't respond immediately after that surprised Steve. He wasn't quite sure what he expected the response to be—perhaps something sarcastic or scathing—but silence wasn't it. Only when the silence drew out for a full minute, did he realize just how flushed his face felt and how tensed up he was. As he willed himself to relax, letting a long breath out through his nose, Tony finally said something again.
Or he was going to, but Peggy chose that particular moment to return.
"I'm sorry to intrude. But, I had a few more questions."
Two weeks.
That's how long Peggy had asked them to stay. Surprisingly, it was Steve that initially balked at that request. They couldn't spend two weeks here—not when their own timeline was relying on them returning with the Tesseract.
Tony, as it turned out, had been the voice of reason. After a brief explanation of the conundrums of time travel, he concluded that however long they took here, they'd still be arriving at the same time as everyone else when they finally went back. Only then did Steve agree.
They spent a single night at Peggy’s home, though Steve struggled to find any rest and spent more time staring at the ceiling, than with his eyes closed. The next day he and Tony found a hotel and settled down there instead.
And the bickering?
It didn't stop.
Much to the contrary, it seemed to only ramp up more and eventually Steve was at a loss. Even when they first met, it hadn't been this bad. Sure, they'd had a go at each other on the helicarrier—no thanks to the scepter and the mind stone within it—and arguments weren't something new between them.
But, it had never been so bad that Tony quite literally locked himself in a room and refused to speak to him.
After trying and absolutely failing to coax his companion back out of his room, Steve decided he only had one choice. There was still a week and a half before they would likely be going home and they absolutely couldn't keep going like this. Whatever amends they'd made at the Compound, they still had plenty to work through.
But, first, he needed an ear and maybe some advice.
Steve couldn't deny the guilt he felt when Peggy opened the door to him. It wasn't really fair to be bothering her with his problems. But whatever qualms he had with being there and relying on her for help, she didn't hesitate to let him in.
"Something is bothering you," Peggy offered as a start to the oncoming conversation, once they were both seated on that same floral couch.
"How can you tell?"
The smile Peggy offered was fond and knowing. Gently she touched the line that always appeared when he was clenching his teeth nearly too hard. As she removed her hand, Steve forced himself to relax that rigid line, offering a chagrined smile in return.
"You always hold your jaw like that when something is troubling you. Or when you want to say something, but are reluctant to. And, besides, you wouldn't have come if something wasn't… perhaps frustrating you."
"You're very perceptive."
"I have to be. Given my work."
Despite what was troubling him, Steve couldn't have fought the amused grin that spread across his lips at that statement. Nodding, he gathered his thoughts and drew in a deep breath.
"It's… uh… My companion—"
"Tony. I know he introduced himself as 'Howard Potts' but I heard you use that name for him the other day."
"Yeah. We haven't always seen eye to eye and have even gotten into full brawls before. But… Before we did this whole time travel thing we'd made some amends for past mistakes. I know it's not all water under the bridge or anything but…"
"He wasn't acting like this before?" Peggy offered, urging him to keep talking.
"No. We'd spent weeks before we ended up here working together and getting along just fine. But over the past few days… Well we've been arguing more than anything else. He quite literally shut me out this afternoon."
Nodding, Peggy picked up the saucer and tea cup she'd brought in for herself. Taking a few sips of whatever blend she was enjoying that afternoon, she eventually set the china back down, taking a deep breath as she did so.
"I can tell you exactly what his 'problem' is." she said, a gentle—nearly amused—smile turning up the corners of her lips.
"Please."
"He's jealous."
If Steve wasn't a super soldier, he might have questioned his own hearing. Instead, he distinctly felt like he'd been slapped in the face by the comment. Briefly, he opened his mouth intending to say something, then closed it a moment later. A few seconds after his brows knitted in confusion, and he looked at Peggy askance.
"Of me, Steve. He's jealous of me and how you act with me."
"But… What does he have to be jealous about?"
This time, Peggy did let out a brief chuckle, a hand rising to cover her mouth. In return, Steve could only offer her a more perplexed look. As the mirth tapered off, she reached out to cup his face, her eyes still shimmering with amusement as she looked at him.
"Oh, Steve. If I had any doubts about you being a version of yourself before, this certainly would have assuaged them. You have such a brilliant mind for tactics, but you are absolutely clueless about something blatantly staring you in the face."
Steve wanted to be offended, but her words only left him more confused. In the back of his mind, connections were being made. But, before he could arrive at his own conclusions, she continued to speak.
"He's in love with you."
"I… what?"
"Tony. He's in love with you. And jealous, so he's lashing out."
Flabbergasted.
Steve was utterly and completely flabbergasted by her words. The answers he'd been expecting to his predicament were obliterated, and now he was left reeling in the wake of Peggy’s conclusions. He blinked once, then twice, and only then found his voice.
"He's married, Peg…"
"Is he? Strange, I didn't see a band on his finger. Only the fading paleness where one had been."
For a moment, Steve started to argue. And then he really thought about it. Thought about when he, Natasha, and Scott had gone to the cabin to ask for help.
No ring.
Thought about when Tony arrived at the compound and gave him back his shield. When they'd shaken hands, perhaps, just a little too long.
No ring.
He thought about each time he'd seen Tony’s hands since they'd started this venture. Bundling wires, lifting components, holding something steady while Rocket helped weld it in place. Writing on holoscreens. Offering plates of food. Touching his enhanced 'sunglasses'.
No ring.
Only a slight discoloration where one had been, but that was fading, nearly invisible.
Peggy allowed the silence to drag on a few minutes longer, before she finally took his hand gently in hers. He jumped at the contact, but didn't pull away.
"You're in love with him too."
"... Yeah."
"Don't blame yourself for not realizing. He's clearly oblivious as well."
Steve tried to take some solace in that fact. Tried to not argue that Tony shouldn't love him. Tried to not wallow and admit just how badly he had hurt him. He didn't deserve any love Tony might be willing to give him, but he didn't say that.
In the end, he didn't have to. Perceptive as ever, Peggy practically read his mind.
"You think you don't deserve it, I can see it in your eyes. It's not very polite of me, but I listened in on most of your conversation the other day. You hurt him. But, I think it's his decision who he chooses to be the recipient of his love."
That, Steve couldn't actually argue. He wanted to, but Peggy was right. To argue that Tony shouldn't love him, if he truly did, was to strip Tony of his agency. And he certainly didn't want to do that.
"Now. I think you should drink your tea before it gets much colder. And then go have an actual conversation with him. You might be surprised how things turn out."
Though Steve had tried to linger just an hour longer at Peggy’s home, she'd all but shoved him out the door in the end. Well, more like she'd ushered him out and wished him luck with a hug and a light kiss to his cheek.
Pulling the key out, Steve stalled in front of the door for more than a handful of minutes, before he took a deep breath and unlocked the door.
To say that he hadn't expected Tony to be sitting in one of the leather chairs reading when he entered, would have been an understatement. Much the opposite, he'd imagined most of this conversation going on through a closed door. The fact that Tony was right there and lowering whatever volume he'd been reading to look at him caught Steve up short.
"How is Aunt Peggy?"
There was briefly a temptation to question how Tony knew where he'd been. But that one word wouldn't be ignored—itching at his mind like a bothersome bug.
"Aunt?"
"Yeah. In our timeline, at least, Peggy was actually my godmother. But I always called her Aunty when I was little. And, Aunt Peg when I got older. She and Howard were rather close, as you know."
Nodding in understanding, Steve slipped the room key back into his pocket, and then approached to take the other leather lounge chair—only to falter slightly a moment.
"I'm not going to bite you, Steve. Sit down."
"... She's doing fine, to answer your question. Not sure how you knew that's where I went, though," he replied, taking the seat as instructed a second later.
"Where else were you going to run off to after today's particular argument? You can be pretty predictable, Spangles."
"Touché."
Steve watched as Tony picked up a spare bit of paper to mark his place in the book, before finally setting it aside on the table between them. It was with some surprise that Steve found he wasn't curious enough to see what the title was, instead keeping his attention focused on Tony.
"You want to talk about something. I wonder what revelations Aunt Peg helped you come to."
"How—"
Despite their earlier argument and the anger with which Tony had told him to 'fuck off' at the time, the grin he offered now was nothing but kind. If not also amused.
"You get a really earnest look on your face when you want to talk about something. Especially when you think it's important. You had that same look on your face when you came to the cabin."
"Jesus…"
"Don't worry, only an open book about ninety percent of the time. I don't always know what's going on in that pretty blonde head of yours. Just most of the time."
Steve wasn't sure if he should feel embarrassed, amused, or indignant. In the end, he chose to instead latch into Tony's word usage. 'Pretty'. It reminded him of the conversation they'd had when the Accords were the driving force of division between them. When Tony had said he sometimes wanted to 'punch him in his perfect teeth'.
How long had Tony been offhandedly flirting with him? How long had he been completely oblivious?
"How long have you and Pepper been separated?" he finally said, watching as briefly Tony's expression shifted to one of surprise.
"Divorced. We're not separated, Steve. We got divorced. It's just easier on Morgan right now for us to keep living together. And, I mean, no big deal anyway. She's one of my best friends regardless—"
"Tony."
"A bit over a year now."
"Why? I thought—"
"We made a good match? I mean, I thought so too. But, it took me a while to realize the love I felt for her was a lot closer to platonic than romantic. And, believe it or not, relationships tend to not work out when you're still stuck on someone else."
Stuck on someone else.
Suddenly, Steve could feel his pulse kick up a few notches, his throat closing up and making it difficult to swallow. He studied Tony for a moment, but he didn't let on to anything. He merely met Steve's gaze with his own.
"I doubt the state of my being married or not is why you went to visit her, though. Must have come up in conversation for you to have only picked up on it now."
"No… Uh… I went to ask her for advice. I wanted to know if she knew… err…"
"Mmm… What my 'issue' is."
"Yeah…"
"And? What did she say it is?"
The sudden urge to fidget, to cross his arms or toy with one of the threads on his pants overwhelmed Steve. It was tempting to do anything else but answer.
"She said you're jealous. Of her."
"Of course… She's always been a perceptive one."
Although his tone was nonchalant, Steve didn't miss the way Tony's cheeks colored with warmth just a little. He was blushing. And Peggy had been right. Tony hadn't even denied it.
"She also said…" Steve started, then stalled, terrified of saying it.
"That I'm in love with you," Tony offered.
Tony said it so easily, Steve couldn't help but be stunned into silence. He held his gaze, but couldn't find the words for well over a minute. Finally, he barely choked out a reply, his voice low.
"Yeah."
"Well, she isn't wrong."
Silence filled the room again as Steve fought to get his hammering pulse back into check. To calm his racing mind. But, of course, Tony took the quiet which permeated the gap in their conversation all wrong.
"It's okay, Spangles. I know you don't swing that way."
And, like nothing else, that snapped Steve out of his tremulous panic.
"What?"
"I know you don't feel that way towards dudes. Or toward me, for that matter. I should apolo—"
"Tony. I do," he interjected, before Tony continued blathering on about things he didn't actually know.
This time, it was Tony’s turn to be stunned into silence, his lips pressing together into a critical line as he studied Steve. Perhaps looking for any sign that Steve was fucking with him.
"How long?" was his reply, when he deigned to respond, obviously not finding whatever deception he'd expected.
"Fuck… I— I don't know."
"Bullshit, Steve. You've known for a while now. How long?"
"... Around the time when you and Bruce made Ultron… Maybe a little before that? If so, I was in denial over it."
"Since Ult— … You mean since Clint's house."
"That's when I really accepted it, yeah…"
"Jesus, Steven. Why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't you? And, why would I? You were with Pepper."
"... Fair point."
"What about you?"
"What? You mean, how long have I felt this way for you?"
"Yeah."
At that, Tony laughed, a darker blush becoming apparent on the rise of his cheeks at the same time. Such a response only intrigued Steve, rather than frustrating him.
"Since I was thirteen? If only I had pictures of what my room looked like at the time. Lots of spangly posters. But, I suppose, after actually meeting you… Uh… Well, let's just say I didn't actually want you to leave after the Chitauri were dealt with."
"Good God…"
"Mmmhmm… We've certainly wasted a lot of time."
Steve snorted in response, his shoulders shaking briefly as he contained most of his laughter and he nodded in agreement. Eleven years. Six of which they'd spent not communicating at all. It was a tragedy, honestly. But, perhaps it was okay. After all, it could have been far longer.
"Not sure what we should do now," Steve admitted at length, meeting Tony's gaze once more. He saw the moment it shifted into something devious.
"Oh, I have a few ideas. C’mon. I promise you'll enjoy it," Tony replied, standing and offering his hand without missing a beat.
And, though Steve’s cheeks were suddenly aflame, hot with an awful blush, he took Tony’s hand and allowed himself to be tugged into standing. Tony gave him a jaunty grin and started to lead him out of the sitting room.
"Can I get a hint?"
"Mmm… How about this? I'll start by kissing those pretty pink lips of yours until they’re swollen and red… And then we'll see where that takes us?"
Steve absolutely wasn't going to argue with that.
A week and a half passed in a flash after that. And, sooner than he would have liked, Steve found himself standing in front of Howard and Peggy, and a younger, less jaded looking version of himself, Tony at his side.
Despite Tony’s qualms, there was no way Steve would allow everything to happen the exact way it had in their own timeline. And, perhaps, that meant things would change exponentially for this timeline. But, he couldn't leave in good conscience without ensuring things potentially went better for their counterparts.
Before they were left standing together, preparing to return to 2023 and the compound to set things right, he related more than a few things. He warned Howard and Peggy of Arnim Zola's aims within S.H.I.E.L.D. and of the growing group of Hydra members that would start to infiltrate not only their organization, but so many others. He advised Howard to keep his eye on Stane, and to this timeline’s version of himself he exposed the fact that Bucky was still alive and being used as a pawn.
And in a hushed voice he begged him to keep an eye on Tony as he grew; to protect him if it came down to it.
When it was all said and done, he felt better for it.
He only hoped it was enough.
With a nod, he and Tony joined hands and returned to their future.
The sound of monitors beeping and intravenous bags dripping was lost to Steve as he watched Tony breathe slowly in and out on his own; no longer requiring a machine to do so for him. It had been two weeks since the climactic battle with Thanos and his army, since Tony had both bravely and foolishly wielded the gauntlet to save them all from destruction.
Two weeks since Steve had ripped the nanotech gauntlet free in a fit of terror, before it took Tony’s life. He needed more than a week and a half to love Tony as much as he deserved to be.
Tony's right arm and hand were in utter disrepair and there were already talks between the doctors overseeing his treatment about amputating the limb. It was a terrifying thought, but one he knew Tony would find a way to overcome.
Not even the loss of an arm would stop Iron Man. Or the man who brought the suit of armor to life.
Idly, Steve pushed some of Tony’s hair out of his eyes, sweeping his palm over his forehead fondly and gently gliding over the scars that marred his olive toned skin.
His touch today seemed to be the specific thing to wake Tony up from his two-week slumber. His dark lashes fluttered and the mask of rest that had been on his face for so long was replaced with one of slow wakefulness.
When his eyes finally opened, Steve smiled at him fondly, feeling his heart ache just a little when Tony returned it with a small grin of his own.
"Hey, Spangles…" he started, then stopped as he started to cough; his throat likely dry and scratchy from disuse.
Steve offered him the fresh cup of water that he'd been given a little less than an hour ago and Tony gladly took a drink, before trying again.
"Looks like your efforts to save me from my own armor were successful."
"You mean from your own heroic hubris."
"Mmmhmm… Pot. Meet kettle." Tony gestured between them with his left hand as he spoke.
Steve laughed, his lips spreading into a large grin. He'd definitely missed all that sass.
"I believe the pot is more suitable for you, Dr. Potts."
"Hmmm… Point taken, Captain Stevens. How's your arm?"
"How's my arm? It's fine. For better or worse the serum did its job, there's barely a scar. And probably won't be one much longer."
"Good. Obviously I know mine isn't so lucky. I suspect they are talking about removing it."
"They are…"
"Hmm… you're doing that thing with your eyebrows again." Tony said, reaching out with his good hand to smooth away what Steve assumed was the crease of concern that had formed.
Despite his concerns, Steve couldn't fight the grin that elicited.
"Much better. An arm is easy enough to replace anyway."
"Yeah?"
"Mmmhmm. Trust me to prove just how easy it is?
Steve snorted, rolling his eyes fondly, before leaning in to capture Tony's lips in a brief kiss. Or… Relatively brief, the hand that came to rest on the back of his neck to keep him there made it difficult to pull away.
When Steve finally did, they were both a little breathless. His voice was nearly gravelly when he replied.
"I do."