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They’ve changed out of their tuxedos and are curled up on the couch together, hot drinks in hand—coffee for Tony, although at this time of night it’s mostly cream, and spiced apple cider for Stephen—when Tony brings it up.
His voice is a little quiet. “Sometimes I wonder, you know.”
“Wonder what?” Stephen asks idly, tangling his fingers with Tony’s and stroking his hand with one thumb.
“What Rabkin said. If anyone would still love me if I wasn’t, you know,” Tony waves a hand. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”
Stephen frowns. “Rabkin is a jealous asshole whose judgment is worth less than toilet paper, why would you listen to him?”
“I’m not,” Tony says. He leans against the back of the couch, gaze tracing Stephen’s features. “But he’s hardly the only one who says it. So I wonder sometimes. How would I know? What I have, I’ve always had. No one’s ever been able to form an opinion of me without those things in play. So how can I be sure that if I lost it all, you’d still feel the same?”
This is far more than an idle question. Stephen takes a moment to put his thoughts in order, hoping that will lend weight to his reply. “You can be sure,” he says, “because the things I love about you have nothing to do with any of that.” Tony starts to speak—to argue, probably—but as much as Stephen enjoys arguing with Tony, he’s not finished. He placed a gentle finger on Tony’s lips, stilling the words. “I did lose everything once. Among other things, it taught me a very different way of evaluating people. I love that you’re the kind of man who stowed away on an alien ship with no guarantee of return to help someone you’d just met. I love that, despite considerable friction between us, you were worried about me when I came out of my visions of the future. I love that, when told you have a one in fourteen million chance to save the universe, you didn’t hesitate to go for it.”
Stephen let his finger slip away from Tony’s lips, clasping their hands together instead, and went on. “I love that you learned therapeutic massage so that you could help with my hands. I love that you find arguing just as fun as I do. I love that you’re generous with your friends even though being that way has bitten you on the ass a dozen times.” Tony snorts, and Stephen smiles. “I love your curiosity, and your sense of humor, and—”
“You’re going to give me a big head here,” Tony interrupts, and if his voice is a little rough, Stephen isn’t going to mention it.
“Not possible,” Stephen said, letting the corner of his mouth curl up. “Your head reached maximum size a long time ago. I should know, I was a neurosurgeon.”
Tony breaks into laughter at that. He leans in and kisses Stephen, the caress messy and disjointed because they’re both still chuckling. “Thank you,” Tony murmurs as it tails off, their lips still brushing.
“Any time,” Stephen returns warmly.