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Steve,
Rhodey is tired of me complaining to him so he suggested I write letters to you. Apparently the point is not sending them, it's some therapy bullshit. Anyways.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.
Sincerely,
Tony Stark
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Dear Tony,
The ache in my heart grows as large as the distance between us. I think often of our time together, and yet it all comes to ruin at the thought of your poignant eyes and indiscriminate hate that fateful day. Just know for every ounce of abhorrence you hold for me I hold a thousand more of love, of reverence, of tenderness for you. What I did that day was larger than the two of us, but you must know it was never my choice to hurt you darling.
Yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
Honestly you're the biggest fuck twit I've ever met. Now that I'm finally free of your endless pontificating I can hear my own thoughts again. And would you look at that, they're telling me about how selfish and slimy you are! Funny how that works. For a long time I had Howard's voice in my head talking about what a man you were, virtuous and brave, worth more than I'll ever amount to. He told me that when I was seven. God I hated you so much. I wish it stayed that way. I wish I never loved you. My body still hurts from when you. Whatever. Did all of that. Broke my heart. Literally, figuratively, ha. Whatever. Whateverrrrr. You hid my liquor in your old room, and I found it you bastard. You're stupid. Now your sheets smell like Laphroaig 25, and my clothes smell like you. You're sooo smell good stupid.
Tony
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Sweetheart,
I hope Pepper is taking care of you. I’m worried. I wish you'd call, even to tell me you hate me. Anger hurts less than letting yourself feel the pain, doesn't it? At least that was always your strategy. I don't mind. Berate me, tear me apart, dig your nails through my ribs. You could crush my heart with your bare hands if it meant the same pain never made it to yours.
With love,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
You're such a conniving, heartless, scheming, pompous little asshole. How many nights did we share a bed and you kept that secret? Did you even lose sleep, even think about how I deserved to know, or did you just think about your old pal? Clearly you thought I'd lose my shit. I'm too unstable, temperamental, dramatic am I? Well, you were right! Sorry I was a little upset about the whole murdered mom thing, really dampened the good mood you had going with your centenarian brainwashed assassin. It wasn't just that you knew, that you lied to my face and kissed me like you still belonged to me for however long you kept your secret. But you lied to me again when I confronted you. You made the choice all on your own to keep it from me, your so-called "partner". Clearly that word means nothing anymore when Barnes is around. He isn't even your Bucky anymore Steve, I saw it. You're chasing a ghost. That man is empty, and I won't be surprised if you wake up one day to the same realization with his hand around your throat.
Fuck you, and fuck Barnes. But especially fuck you.
Loathingly,
Tony
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Dearest Tony,
I hope you are doing well. I'm sorry about Rhodes, and Natasha. It was never supposed to get that far, but we were always both too strongly willed to let things rest easy. It made us great heroes but at times poor lovers. Just know I want you safe, and I'm sorry that the Accords forced our hand. You hold so much guilt, I need you to know you aren't carrying the world on your own. If I could I'd carry your pain and loss all on my own shoulders, I'd carry the sky, carry the moon and every star till they died and I'd watch the nebula embrace me with all its remarkable light and color, and in my last moment I'd think how it was almost as beautiful as you.
Lovingly,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
I hope you're miserable. I hope there's bedbugs in your sheets, your shower runs out of hot water, and the bagel you wanted to eat for breakfast is moldy. I hope you stub your dumb toes, and weep every night missing your hunk of metal. You probably tell your vigilante friends what to do all the damn time and now they're getting sick of you. Such a drill sergeant. I hope you have everything you need, and nothing you want. Trip into a ditch you piece of shit.
Tony
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Dear Tony,
I think about you constantly my love. Drawings of sunsets or brick and mortar always devolve into your knowing eyes and the twirl of your hair, the shape of your muscles and your endearing smile. I can't escape you. But your eyes always look so sad, my love, why are you always so sad? In another life I am there to kiss every frown and tear, my hands hold your face till we are one, till you consume me and my every breath, till my thoughts are spoken in the rhythm of your lips. No matter the scorn you hold for me, know that I am yours. Irrevocably.
Sincerely,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
You woke up way too early. Your shirts were too tight. Are you blind or just a whore? Surely those aren't comfortable. It pissed me off when you corrected my manners, as if I didn't grow up knowing which fancy spoons to use and how to hold a wine glass, and you just grew up with a nice mom. I don't need to be obnoxiously chivalrous all the damn time. It felt like you were always trying to fix me. Clearly I never amounted to what you wanted, so you took the first exit. You put too much spinach in smoothies. I don't know if you were too loyal or not loyal enough. Maybe just loyal to something that wasn't me and never was. Whatever. I should have seen that coming. I'm stupid, god, you made me brainless.
I hate you. I hate that you made me feel normal and good and then you took it all away again. I hate it here. Where are you? I could gloat about how I spend my days in my king-sized 1000 thread count Egyptian sheets, eating lamb and asparagus, driving my red Corvette. I'm not though. Probably doing as well as you. Sleeping at my desk, drinking lukewarm espresso for dinner. You used to carry me to bed. I hated that.
Tony
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My dearest,
I never cared much for expensive things. I liked having books, and having you, and having privacy, but I didn't care much for the...muchness of it all. I don't think you cared as much as people thought either, other than for your creations. I think often though, of our home together. Our room in the tower became more than I've ever had before. I learned to worship something other than my God. I spent evenings tracing your back, admiring the way your lashes caught the moonlight, feeling you relax under my fingertips. I think in those moments when I felt your breath on my bare chest in the safety of our bed was when I most felt prepared to die for you. To do anything to protect your peace (I'm sorry I failed darling).
I loved how unabashed you were. I loved showering with you because your laughter would echo on the steamed walls and I could soak in it for a moment longer. You became a real thing, a gentle thing. You'd stop making everything into a joke when you were tired, and you'd kiss me like it was an afterthought; the way you blink and breathe and beat your heart, you'd kiss my bare shoulder, my cheek, my collar bone. I felt at home in your existence, in your affection.
I have drawings, hidden, of someplace for just the two of us. The wood detailing I love, and the open floor you love. Smaller than you're used to but I think you'd like that. A workspace for you, a bathtub for me, and a garden for us both to mess up. I think we could have run away together, and found quiet in the woods. I'm sorry we never got there. I am so sorry.
Unflinchingly yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
Y'know, I probably should have expected that from you. That you'd choose your stupid wartime boyfriend over me and all the things we've built together. Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I wanted the same things as you, just safer. I don't like being under the government's thumb either, but it's better than running away. How are you going to help people now Steve??? I wish you would have thought this through past your own ego. Contrary to popular belief, you aren't always right.
Oh and fuck you.
Tony
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My love,
I miss your humor. There isn't much laughter in my life anymore. It's just Sam and me for now, and he tries, but it's hard to find much joy in a life without you. The stretches of time removed don't heal. I feel it eating me alive, the missing you. I work too much. It seemed normal, at the time, considering you somehow worked more, but now all I notice is you aren't there to share a meal, to drag to bed, to call during a long car ride.
I really miss your natural hair. When you don't put product in it, push it back, blow dry it, whatever process you spent so long in the bathroom on. I liked when you showered then went straight to your workshop, so it would dry a little funny and lay flat on your forehead. It was soft, and something about the strands above your eyes, the little curl around your ear, the way it was a little longer than you liked but I loved. Loved putting my hands in it. I could massage your head and you wouldn't bat my hand away like you did when you were all dressed up, or in front of others. You'd lean into it and hum, continuing to work on something that made no sense to me. I loved that. I love you.
Yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
I think you were a bully. I think you did what you wanted, when you wanted, and you ran over those in your way. The stupid over-politeness was such bullshit. Your magnanimity after our arguments lit me on fire with embarrassment, did you know that? And yet you acted like you were doing me a favor for forgiving me. Like I was a burden and you were the bravest boy scout for taking me on. I should have known better, honestly, but it was like I lost all my common sense around you. It was nice when we agreed, it felt like you'd do anything for me.
Didn't feel so nice when you disagreed.
It was like eggshells, all the damn time. But I refused to tip-toe, and I think you liked that. Liked it the way a prison warden knows they'll get to beat the stubbornness out of the new guy, the way a mean dog learns to whimper and submit to man. You always liked a challenge. I guess that's what I was, challenging. Like every report card and snide remark from my parents, ex-lovers and so-called “friends” have said. I'm challenging. I know I am. At least I rest easy knowing I broke you before you broke me. Ran away like the coward you are. Too challenging for you?
Tony
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Love,
I need you to know how gorgeous you are. I have thousands of drawings, pieces of you, your fingers or lips or chest. In my memories you glow. When you tease, or create, when you grump around before your caffeine, I think "thank you God, for my very own angel". I don't care how sharp you pretend to be around others. I know you stopped teasing Bruce when the bruises under his eyes got dark. I know you stocked the cupboards with that chocolate covered popcorn because Natasha picked it up for a moment at a gas station. I know you called Clint's arrow ideas stupid and then stayed up all night making them for his mission in the morning. I think we were all so lucky to be quietly loved by you. Thank you handsome, my love, my darling, my everything. Thank you for allowing me to soak in your light. I fear I am a wilting flower, and I hope when I decompose the rich soil makes its way back to you. If you want me to die, I want you to bloom; I think this works out well for us. Angel, sunshine, light of my life. I hope you still glow.
Forever yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
I can't sleep. It's been months. It's not like I always slept when you were around, but it was easier. Probably because you're a human space heater. Booze helps, but Pepper's getting upset again. Rather hurt myself than hurt her. People make me so soft, I resent it. When I had no one and didn't care who or what got hurt, that was easy. Then your self-righteous ass walked in and everyone was so eager to follow your uplifting honor. Those were the good days huh, when I was too impetuous for you and you were too decent for me.
Do you remember that day last year, when same-sex marriage was fully legalized? Pepper walked in with her tablet and announced it to the common room and everyone whooped and smiled. You looked at me first. I pretended not to notice, you stared for a little. What would you have done if I met your eyes? Blushed, smiled, looked away? I didn't want to know. Don't want to know what promise you might have held there. I guess we're just a couple of cowards aren't we?
Tony
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My sweet,
I'm having nightmares. In every single one I'm hurting you. I'm crushing your heart, snapping your bones, watching you bleed. It's your eyes I think, in those final moments, that wake me in a cold sweat. The moment I knew I lost your love, that I'd scraped your insides clean with a rusty spoon till you were just blood and hatred. That day in Siberia haunts me, and I regret so deeply having to harm you. I don't blame you. But I couldn't let you blame Bucky either. I spend my hours in the night awakened to think about what we could have done better. What if I'd told you about your parents earlier? What if you didn't sign the Accords? I think the what ifs haunt me just as well as the real outcome. Know my love, it kills me to hurt you. A part of me died in that cold, and when you took the shield back, it's like you knew. Knew I was no longer myself. Not without you. For better or for worse, you own me.
Yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
Do you buy books? You were a big library guy, I know, but I don't think they give library cards to fugitives. Remember when I took you to Barnes and Noble and you kept glaring at the prices. Your fault really, for picking up the hard covers. Even though I was paying you still refused "for the principle". That's the kind of shit I used to pull all the time, except people said I was stubborn and uncooperative, with you it was just, charming. My oh my, a real man, stands up for what he believes and fights for the little guy.
Anyways, I took you to a thrift store. Nearly cost me my image, mind you, but you seemed pleased enough. I guess that made me happy too.
What I'm trying to say, I guess, is. What are you reading lately? Still on Westerns? Some obnoxious self help thing? More war memoirs? Do you even have time to read wherever you are?
When I think about you for too long it aches.
Tony
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Darling,
I had coffee on a cafe terrace tonight, like the painting. I’m in Italy and I’m not even sure what I ordered, but it reminds me of you. The warmth of your listening, the bitterness of your insecurity, the rich deepness of your joy. I lived there once. In the stretch of your lips, the gasp of your contentment, the sparkle in your waterline like the wishing fountain I thought was magic as a kid. I wish I still resided there, so I could track the way your crow’s feet deepen every day and fall further into the cracks till it was all I knew. I’d read your laugh lines like the Bible my darling.
I know people always compare your eyes to coffee, I did too. I see now that I thought that because I’d still taste it on your tongue when I gazed into them. Your eyes are more like a leather-bound book; classic, telling, and far too beautiful to take off the shelf for fear it might one day fall apart in my palms.
Yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
There's this Greek myth about a husband and wife, Orpheus and Eurydice, I don't know if you've heard of it. Well to make a long story short Eurydice dies and Orpheus can bring his wife back to life if he's able to walk out of the underworld with her without ever looking back to see if she's actually following him. There's a bunch of versions of the story, but no matter the reason he always looks back, and he always loses her.
The way I understood it is he turns because he loves her. He's nervous she isn't there, he's scared she's fallen, he's excited to share the sight of the sun with her. He fails because he loves her too much to be neutral about her existence. It doesn't matter if it would've been better never to look, because caring for her goes deeper than any logic.
I think, if you were Orpheus, you wouldn't look back at me. We'd make it out, alive and safe and together, because you accomplished the mission perfectly. It's a good thing, the best thing, the happy ending.
And foolishly, I was wishing you'd glance back at me the whole way.
Tony
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My great love,
I still like to check up on you online. I saw you sold Avengers tower, and in all candor, I'm hurt. I'm sure it's something you needed to do. Despite it all, I trust you not to be cruel. The thing about having a perfect memory is that I remember every moment I shared there. It was the closest thing to home I've felt since I left Brooklyn in '42. I know you feel the loss deeply because you never had a proper family that loved you, like a lot of the Avengers, but I lost something too. I miss those big beige couches with popcorn under the cushions, I miss training with Nat, I miss you arguing with Clint over breakfast, I miss our bed. One thing the serum did for me was increase my vigilance, and a side effect was that when I wake up I know exactly where I am and what's happening around me. That means, unlike most humans, I don't get those few seconds of bliss where I forget myself; no, I immediately know you aren't there with me, that my family isn't down the hall, that I'm cold and alone in an unfamiliar bed. I don't get to pretend, ever, and for every good memory we shared, the horror of your bruised and betrayed face coats them like the crimson of a slit throat over what was once a warm home.
Yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
It's getting harder to stay angry. Which just means that everything else I've been repressing is left, and that's…a lot.
I just don't understand. No one can be that selfless, to throw away everything for some imagined greater good. For your principles? Because of your trauma? I just thought, maybe, I was worth more to you than all of that. Which I know is ridiculous. I think maybe I loved you more than you loved me, but you were just more honest about what feelings you had, and mine were so big I got scared and shoved them in a closet to hide them from us both. And if I let them out we'd have both drowned, and you'd be gone anyways. I don't know. Maybe it's my fault. I know you loved me, I know you did, but I think you stopped liking me.
Tony
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Beautiful,
You're too smart for your own good. Do you know how proud I'd feel at all you've accomplished, how people would praise you around me and I'd have to hide my goofy smile? You've helped so many people, and it's like your brain moves faster than your hands when you get inundated with this need to do do do and you become this remarkable force. I still wonder if you even noticed me coming into your workshop sometimes. The music blasting, eyes glued to your work. You'd be talking to Jarvis and typing at the same time, then wheeling over to some wired contraption to fiddle with, then you'd be going over research papers and muttering about limitations in the energy reserve—I don't know. I think it's gorgeous. I really do love that part of you, the ignoring me to save the world part. Birds of a feather flock together I suppose.
Sincerely,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
I can't remember the shade of your eyes. It's been killing me for days. I know they're blue, I know, but I just. Did they have green? Were they pale? More like the sky or the ocean? It's pissing me off because I remember remembering. I remember thinking about them when you were so close but turned away, when you were gone across the planet, when you slept and I could only admire your closed lids and graceful cheekbones. I know I used to know. There aren't any good enough photos online. I loved them so much, I even teased you about them. You try to be this big scary soldier, but you're as sweet as sunshine aren't you baby blues?
So is this it, the getting over you? I start to forget things, the sound of your voice or the way it made me feel to hear it deepen in the morning, the tightness of your hugs or the smell of your sweat when the deodorant wore off. That's good right, moving on?
So why does it feel like you're dying?
Tony
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Honey,
It's been a year. I don't think these letters are good for me, the rumination. Sometimes I think about leaving the whole bundle in a box on your doorstep, but that feels too close to mailing a bomb. I used to google your name every morning and night, but now I only do so when I wake up from another nightmare. They're still about you, but sometimes they're good dreams, too, at least when I'm living in them. We hold hands and walk past Brooklyn bridge on the way to my Ma's house. You always compliment her cooking. I still call them nightmares when I wake up, though, because the severance of dream and wake is as sharp a knife as your words felt in Siberia.
I don't have nightmares every night anymore. It varies, depending on my day and my exhaustion and how many times I passed someone with lashes as thick as yours, with hands as calloused, with a laugh as light. But it's progress. Sometimes I go weeks without; I miss you in the betweens.
Yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
I've been doing really well actually. It was bad, really bad, for a long time. But there are people here who love me for some reason, and I've been spending time in the sun. Travelling. It's nice actually, not working so hard.
I still think about you way too much, but I don't need you. And I don't need to hate you either, as much as that displeases me. Guess I've matured, grown, am the bigger person now, huh?
I don't think these letters are good for me. I don't know where you are, and I don't want to know. I can't bring myself to burn them though. Guess they'll gather dust like all the memories I have of you.
Tony
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My love,
I miss you. I hope to meet again someday.
Forever yours,
Steve Rogers
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Steve,
I miss you. I hope I never see you again.
Tony