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Steve Rogers does not need anyone's help with his dating life, than you very much. He might not impress people with his looks the way Bucky can but that doesn’t give his best friend any right to sign him up for a dating app without asking him first!
“C’mon Stevie, I know you don’t need my help but you gotta get yourself out there. You can not shed tears over being alone all the time but do nothing to get dates!” Hereaches over the table and puts one hand over Steve’s shoulder, giving him the ‘you know I’m right’ look which Steve hates with a burning passion.
“Nope, nope, nope. Not doing it Buck.” his stubbornness will die down eventually, he can already feel it but that doesn’t mean he’ll give up this easily. “I will die alone if I have to.”
“You won’t die alone you punk. I’m with you til’ the end of the line.”
Then something in Steve snaps once again. His eyes go blank and his whole body turns still, muscles going ridgid. Explosions happen in front of him and there are hands he can see, the hands that belong to the eyes he's seeing out of that do not belong to him, hands that are bigger and much more calloused than the ones he has.
He sees Bucky in front of him, standing at a metal railing yelling at him that he won’t go without Steve, explosions happening all around.
“Steve? Steve?” Bucky’s voice brings him out of his vision, making him come back to the diner they are sitting at. “You with me buddy?” Bucky asks, concern written all over his face.
“Yeah, I just drowsed off” he tries to convince, uncertainty bleeding to his voice.
Bucky stands up from where he was sitting across Steve and sits down next to him on the booth, careful of his fragile frame. “I think they are seizures, Stevie, what you are experiencing. Please tell Dr. Banner about them next time you see him, please.”
Anger bubbles up inside Steve, a relentless anger that hates this flawed body he’s in, riddled with all kinds of sicknesses. He is not angry at Bucky but angry at himself for making everyone around him sick with worry, for always being a dead weight to those around him. This is exactly why he doesn’t wanna date anyways, for he won’t be able to bring joy to anyone in his condition.
Tears of pity start to stream down his face, big droplets wetting his brittle cheekbones. Then strong arms wrap around him, holding him tight. He feels the coolness of metal on his back where Bucky’s hand pats him soothingly.
He feels another one of his visions take him over and just lets it happen, as horrors of watching him fall down on a mountainous hill makes his entire body shake.
When he opens his eyes, he finds himself in his bedroom, looking into a mirror. A part of his mind tells him there has been a time jump, missing pieces of this puzzle but he is too nervous about his date that night so he just shushes them.
“So what do you think about this shirt?” he asks, turning to Clint who’s been watching him from where he is perched on the large bed.
“You know Stevie, it’s usually my thing hitting the target but I think you’ve hit the bullseye with this rich guy. Wear something sluttier.” he quips, giving him a devilish smirk.
“It is not like that Clint and you know that.” he cuts, voice commanding as an army captain. “I am not with Tony for his money nor his fame.”
“Yeah.” Nat agrees, seemingly coming out of nowhere and Steve feels the tell tales of another vision taking him over.
They are standing at a large opening in a larger building, Nat sporting a short hair-do with her red hair curled into locks. She is wearing a black leotard that makes her look equally sexy and frightening.
She looks up at him, and some part of him finds it strange since they are basically at the same height when she is wearing flats, let alone heeled boots like she is wearing now. He hears his voice call for her “You want to keep staring at the wall, or do you want to go to work? I mean, it's a pretty interesting wall.” his voice comes out lower than he remembers, not as breathless as he normally sounds.
“I thought you and Tony were still gazing into each other's eyes.” and she leads them out of the room, just as they are about to walk through a door, he comes to himself.
This time he is standing in front of the door to his apartment, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, white and red camellias taking his breath away. He faintly registers he is allergic to almost all flowers but his mind supplies additional information, derailing his train of thoughts.
“See they mean he adores you and you flame something in him.” Sam confirms. Confused, Steve looks at his face, uncertain as to how Sam almost read his mind, corroborating his internal thoughts about the bouquet's meaning.
They enter the living room through the big arch and join their friends who are there for a movie night, a feeling of some people being missing bugging Steve. He looks through the room and counts people, finger pointing at them while internally calling out their names.
Bucky and his girlfriend Natasha of course, Sam, Wanda and her boyfriend Vision, Clint and… and… That is the entirety of their friend group but he can’t shake the feeling of some people not being there.
Bucky points to the flowers he’s holding, ignoring the befuddled look on his face and speaks. “See, I told you this wasn’t just a one time thing like you guys insisted on it being. Tony is in it for the long haul.”
His cheeks heat up with blood rushing there, painting his cheeks red like a rose. He hates not being able to keep a poker face, letting his face show all of his emotions but he has his mother to thank for that pale white skin that lights up red like a Christmas tree whenever he gets embarrassed.
He doesn’t recall when he got intimate with Tony like that, mind still drowning at a sea of time and missing pieces but they must have. They’ve been together for over six months, his mind supplies, surely they have slept together.
”Have we?” He wants to question, trying to remember what Tony looks like naked. His mind conjures up images of Tony, a blue light illuminating the space. He can not directly look at Tony in his mind, something obscuring his image. A big hole right in his chest.
Horrified, he shakes his head, once again back at present. “I’m running late for my date, don’t mess up my living room.” he yells as he leaves the apartment running down the stairs three at a time, the prospect of a movie night long forgotten.
Asthma? he questions for a brief second but he doesn’t have time to dwell in his aliments. He can’t keep Tony waiting, not when they have a reservation to meet.
The restaurant Tony takes him to is not as fancy as he expects, a little Italian hole in the wall kinda place. He lets Tony order for him as well, finally settling on three entrees, and one main course for each.
He basically inhales almost all bruschettas and more than half of the buratta they’ve been served, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry” taking a big sip from the delicious wine Tony has picked out for them he gives out a shy smile.
“It’s okay.” Tony laughs. “I know how hungry you get. Gotta have a big appetite to keep that body of yours full.”
His face contorts in confusion. He knows Tony would never make fun of his smaller figure, and the sincerity in his face proves that yet his words don't seem to make any lick of sense.
Once they share a tiramisu which Steve eats more than his share, they start walking down the streets of New York city, hand in hand.
“Do you wanna take the car?” Tony asks, a little concerned. “I know you hate the cold and winter in general.”
His whole body trembles with a breeze hitting him just at that exact time. Steve wishes his visions would leave him alone, at least when he’s with Tony but when has life been fair to him.
He feels trapped, and cold. Water rushes down from the large windows in front of him. He tries to lift the big piece of metal that has screwed him to his seat in what looks like a cockpit, knowing deep in his gut this has been the faith he chose.
His hand flies to the inside pocket of his uniform, again the same large fingers appear inside of his vision, and he knows he’s looking for his compass. As he tries to open it, he comes to.
“Steve?”
“I’m fine.” he tries to reassure Tony, or himself, he can’t be sure. “You’re right it must be cold getting to me.”
“You got another one didn’t you?” Tony asks, already knowing the answer. “Is it Wanda’s doing? Your visions are getting more and more frequent.”
Tony's voice becomes more distant, almost like it is coming from underwater and Steve finds himself awake in his own bed, alarm blaring on his nightstand.
He hits the alarm clock without paying any attention to how strong and hears the plastic give out under his fist. He really should be more mindful of his own strength, and maybe ask Tony to make him more durable appliances.
He giggles with that thought like his skinny little body could ever break a clock, then his giggles turn into full body shaking laughters. The image of him having a big strong muscular body seems like the funniest thing in the world at that moment.
Then he hastily starts getting ready, throwing on a white t-shirt that looks entirely too big in his hands then feels like it shrunk three sizes down, stretching near his chest and combs his hair back not even bothering to look in the mirror.
When he steps outside of his apartment, he finds Tony already there waiting for him, leaning against a Harley Davidson, wearing a red and gold helmet and holding a dark blue one with red stripes and white stars for him.
Placing a chaste kiss to his lips, Steve picks up the helmet and sits down on the motorcycle, his body doing it on autopilot like he has done this a million times before.
Tony climbs down behind him. “Let’s hit the road, I wanna at least make it to Virginia before it gets too hot.”
“You were the one who wanted to take a road trip down to Florida during summer.” he reprimands without any actual heat to it. “And we can’t drive for seven hours without stopping.”
“What time is it anyways?” And Steve reaches for his phone, hands mid clicking the button next to it as another vision takes him.
He is on his motorcycle, going faster than his body would normally allow him. He looks down on big thighs gripping tight and he lets his hands go, then he stands up on that bike with an agility that surprises him, and throws the bike forward like it weighs nothing.
“Well done Captain.” he hears a deep baritone voice praise him. And he feels like he’s going to wake up from his vision but that voice triggers another one, his mind getting lost in a potpourri of memories and sights from another life.
“Close the portal.” he commands, resigning. His chest feels tight, in alignment with his body for the first time, like he can’t breathe, then his attention turns to a gold and red figure, falling down from the sky.
He hears whooshing coming from his right and a large green figure catches the falling object, Tony. He wants to scream and run towards him, yet his mind gets warped into another vision, another memory.
He is standing on a bridge, a man who he is sure is himself standing in front of him. The man looks bigger, stronger, face more chiseled yet he is sure that the man standing in front of him is the spitting image of himself. It must be Loki disguised as me, he concludes.
And right on cue, he wakes up. He feels Tony throw an arm over his body, pulling him closer to himself. A strange buzzing sensation and warmth make themselves known on his back. “Nightmare?”
“Must be.” he rasps out. “I’ll go on a run to clear my mind.”
Tony sleepily pulls his arm back and rolls onto his other side, mumbling some form of acknowledgment. He stands up, and freezes. His shadow is casted on the wall, the light of Tony’s bedside lamp illuminating him from behind, the shadow in front of him clearly belonging to the man in his vision.
“Wake up, Steve.” he hears, baffled. “Wake up please.” Tony pleads.
“He’ll be fine, don’t worry.” a voice consoles him. “Wielding the stones must have taken a toll on him even with the serum.”
Fluttering his eyes open, he looks up feeling like for the first time in a long time actually seeing what is in front of him.
“Oh thank God.” Tony sounds as breathless as he feels, tears running down his cheeks.
Steve wants to speak, and ask what happened but feels too weak, throat dry as desert. “What just happened?” he finally manages after a few minutes, feelings returning to his body.
Seeing Tony by his side, looking down on him with worried eyes that immediately melt with Steve’s words gives him a sense of deja-vu. He wonders if he had dreamt about this as he was sleeping under the stones' effects.
“You did it, Steve. We won.” and Tony bends down, placing an ever present kiss on his lips. “I thought I lost you even before I had you.”
A warmth blooms inside of him, not like the feeling he has on his arm but something that washes over his entire being. Slowly it all comes back to him, Thanos, the battle, Tony in front of him with the gauntlet.
He remembers running up to him, yanking the gauntlet, the metal piecing back on his own arm, each and every one of the stones shining even brighter than before. Then he remembers snapping his fingers and falling down into a rabbit hole of another reality.
He tries to stand up, reach for Tony and kiss him one more time. Like he read his mind, Tony pushes him down by his shoulders, this time him leaning in for another kiss.
In the end if he gets to kiss Tony as much as he likes, he thinks it was worth it. Worth getting trapped in the stones, worth feeling like he was losing his mind. He gets to kiss Tony, all the consequences be damned.