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Tony threw back his head, laugh escaping him in surprised gasps. He could feel actual tears building behind his eyes.
In front of him, Stephen struggled with the Cloak—and hadn’t that been a strange introduction, meeting a sentient being made of fabric—cursing with a drastic vehemence that Tony had only rarely seen from Stephen.
“What are you doing?” Tony asked, words coming out in between broken laughter. This was certainly not what he’d expected to find, seconds after entering Stephen’s Sanctum for their planned date. Which was different than just spending time together or their increasingly common ‘unplanned’ dates.
“They stole from me!” Stephen said, giving the Cloak a narrow-eyed look, before turning the look on Tony. “And laughing at my plight is entirely rude, by the way.” He wrinkled his nose. “Aren’t you supposed to be nicer than that?” he asked.
“Me?” Tony asked, amused. “Nice? I think you must be confusing me with someone else.” He paused, making a show of considering the situation. “Though I can’t think who,” he said. “It can’t be Wong, because he’s worse than I am.” Meeting Wong had been almost as interesting as meeting the cloak. Wong had seemed genuinely surprised Stephen had convinced Tony to come around. It had been more than clear that Wong had thought Tony would be turning Stephen away.
At the beginning, Tony had wondered, off and on, if he should. The pain of eight months with a broken heart didn’t disappear in an instant, even if now he knew that so much of that pain had been worsened by unexpected interference, from thieves stealing Stephen’s ring to FRIDAY hiding his emails. Added to that, while he loved Stephen—he thought he would always love Stephen, even if he chose a life without him—Stephen’s new life had felt strange and alien. It had not felt like the sort of life that Tony could possibly have any place in. And Stephen… he was still Stephen, but he was also different. The months away had changed him in so many small, subtle ways.
He was, in some ways, not the man Tony had fallen in love with, so many years ago.
Except Tony hadn’t been able to walk away without giving it a real shot. And as Tony tried, as Tony learned Stephen anew… he found that it was so easy to fall in love with Stephen all over again, to fall in love with those small, subtle changes.
And maybe Stephen’s world was strange—so very fitting for Stephen, though saying as much earned Tony an exasperated sigh and muttered comments about bad puns and a distinct lack of imagination—it was not quite as unwelcoming as Tony had expected it to be.
Sure, a sentient being made of fabric and magic was new, but it wasn’t any odder than a sentient being made of metal and code, and Tony had had DUM-E for decades. And a sentient Sanctum was no weirder than JARVIS or FRIDAY. Tony could adjust to that. And, honestly, these strange sentients Stephen had found seemed willing to welcome him in their own weird ways.
And, admittedly, Stephen had always been good at spiking Tony’s interest; that hadn’t changed now that magic was involved. Stephen always knew just the right thing to say and the right question to pose. Before Tony had even realized what was happening, he’d been dissecting magical energies and their interaction with different, more scientific phenomena… with only the occasional mishap.
And to be honest, some of those mishaps had been very, very fun, even if it had earned both of them Wong’s disapproval.
“You’ve got a good point,” Stephen said, turning his glare back to the Cloak. “All my friends are assholes. I can’t imagine what I did to deserve that.”
“I could give you a list, if you’d like,” Tony said, teasing. “I’ve been saving up reasons for the last six years.”
That earned him an eye roll. “Why do I love you, again?” Stephen asked.
Tony’s heart did a familiar little jump. It was hardly the first time Stephen had told him he loved Tony. Hell, he’d been saying it for years and in the time since Stephen had returned from his little jaunt away, Stephen had seemed almost desperate to make sure Tony knew.
And Tony did know.
He just… he didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t said the words back, but both he and Stephen knew Tony was holding back. He hated leaving Stephen feeling desperate, like he needed to prove something. Tony wasn’t an expert at healthy relationships—far from it—but that felt like a recipe for a power imbalance. And not the fun kind of power imbalance. At the same time, Tony didn’t know if he was ready to even the field, to tell Stephen that he still loved him, would always love him… wasn’t ready to tell Stephen that Tony chose him, chose them, chose a life together with all of the oddities it would now bring with it.
Because Tony… Tony would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want all that. That he didn’t want to choose Stephen. Because he did. That want seemed to infuse every particle of his being. Except what if he lost it all over again?
He didn’t think Stephen would leave him again, disappearing without a word. …but then, Tony hadn’t expected it the first time, either.
He reached up, fiddled with the ring that still hung around his neck. The metal cool beneath his fingers the way it always was. Tony could feel himself on the edge of some precipice, but he couldn’t make himself take the step.
If he jumped, would he fly or fall?
He didn’t know, needed something to push him. Of course, Tony didn’t have any convenient insight on what would give him that burst of courage. Inconvenient that.
Tony shook the thoughts away. They weren’t helping right now and if he allowed himself to keep dwelling on them he’d end up ruining the night for himself. He really had no intention of doing that. He and Stephen had plans for the night, including what would be a very enjoyable evening organizing one of the Sanctum’s storage rooms. Which sounded entirely boring, except Wong had called it the ‘prank room’ and that could only end well. Wong might have informed him that the artifacts ranged from artifacts that reversed gravity in an 11 square foot space—which Tony had to try—to turning people temporarily green.
That one Tony wanted to convince Stephen to let him borrow so that he could use it on all of the Avengers other than Bruce at some point, so Bruce could get his own jokes about their ‘greener, meaner’ selves. Well, except for himself, he also wanted to get in a few jokes, he could hardly do that if he was also green.
That was to say it was going to be a good night… if Stephen could get whatever the cloak had stolen from him back. Speaking of…
Stephen had gone back to arguing with the cloak while Tony had been wool-gathering. It was very clear that the cloak hadn’t given it up yet, whatever it was.
“What did the cloak steal, anyways?”
Stephen froze, a faint flush crossing his cheeks. “It’s… nothing.”
Oh, that was definitely not nothing. “Oh, definitely sounds like nothing,” Tony said. “You’ve got me convinced.” He arched an eyebrow. “You used to be a better liar, has your time as a magic monk stolen your ability to lie?”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” Stephen asked, then paused. “Except no, I’m still an excellent liar. I’ve gotten a lot of practice pretending I didn’t steal from Wong’s tea stash or hide the library books in my room.”
Tony snorted. Oh, of course. Stephen clearly had his priorities in the right order. “You know, someday he’s going to murder you, right?”
“Unlikely,” Stephen said. “He’s reluctantly charmed by my sharp wit and biting sarcasm. Plus the fact that I’m good at distracting Master Boggs when he’s trying to corner Wong for a debate on philosophy. Wong likes making philosophical statements with the best of them, but he actually hates philosophy as a topic for debate.”
Fair enough. Tony would forgive a lot of sins for someone who got Tony out of conversations he didn’t want to be stuck in. But that was secondary. “Glad I won’t have to bribe Wong into less murderous pursuits,” Tony said. “Or avenge you if that fails.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “I’m likable on my own,” he said, tone a little mulish.
“Given pretty much everyone else tried to convince me to kick you to the curb, and I’m still here, I think it’d prove I’m well aware that you’re likable on your own.”
“Just likable?” Stephen asked.
Tony hummed. “Maybe more than that,” he said. He changed the subject before that conversation could go any further. “So… you going to be honest about what the cloak stole from you this time?”
The cloak darted in front of him, hiding Stephen from him. It shoved something in Tony’s face and Tony grabbed it automatically to keep it from smacking him in the nose.
Stephen let out a strangely terrified noise, taking an abrupt step forward.
The cloak darted away, flashing up the stairs and leaving Tony and Stephen alone.
It was more instinct than thought that had Tony looking down at what the cloak had shoved at him. He froze. The part Tony had caught was the chain of a necklace; dangling from it, however, was a ring, dark metal—tungsten, probably—with engravings along the inside of it.
“Tony,” Stephen’s voice was careful, anxious. “I can explain.”
The ragged exhale that escaped Tony made it clear he’d actually stopped breathing for a second there. It was automatic to reach up to touch his own ring—Stephen’s ring—where it hung.
“Tony?”
He jerked his head up to stare at Stephen who was biting his lip and watching Tony with genuine anxiety. “What is this?” Tony asked, voice coming out a little hoarse.
For a long moment—too long of a moment—Stephen didn’t seem to know how to answer. “I…” Stephen shook himself than straightened his shoulders. “I thought it was my turn,” Stephen said. “To propose. You did last time, and that… well, you know how that ended.” Stephen’s smile wasn’t entirely confident.
Tony felt himself trembling on the edge of that precipice once again.
“The memory is rather distinct for me.” Standing in that pawn shop in Kamar-Taj, Stephen’s ring resting in the pawnshop owner’s hand, the yellow lights of the shop giving a glint to the white gold palladium ring.
Stephen nodded, taking a deep breath. “I want to erase that memory,” Stephen said. He paused. “Maybe not erase it, because that… I can’t imagine how that felt, but I can see the way it weighs on you.”
The weight of empty promises.
They weren’t empty, not really. Stephen still meant those promises. He said yes, his heart whispered, and it was no longer a desperate death cry of his hopes and dreams. He said yes. He loved you. Accompanied by new whispers. He came back. He’ll always come back.
His gaze fell back to the ring in his hand.
“Say it,” he whispered. “I need to hear it.”
Stephen moved closer, carefully taking the ring from Tony’s hand. Tony looked up to meet Stephen’s gaze. “I wanted to wait,” Stephen said. “Until you were ready. I didn’t want to push you.” He sighed, exasperated. “The cloak had different ideas on the timing.” Stephen’s jaw clenched. “If you aren’t ready…” He licked his lips. “I hope the answer’s not ‘no’, more of a ‘give me more time’.”
“It’s not a no,” Tony said. “Haven’t quite figured out anything past that, yet.”
Relief crossed Stephen’s face. “Well, I’ll take that.” His expression turned serious again. “Five years ago you asked me to marry you. We’d almost died, because that’s apparently a trend in our lives, and, you don’t know this, but Christine asked me if I was really willing to stick with you when those were the risks and… and it wasn’t even a question for me. Because yes. Yes. And when you asked—with the worst possible timing, by the way—I…” Stephen trailed off. “It was everything I wanted.”
“What is it with our friends?” Tony asked, mostly to himself.
“It’s everything I still want,” Stephen continued. “And it’s my turn to ask you if you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.” He lifted his palm, the ring dark against his pale skin, but no less capable of catching the light. Tony wondered if it was his imagination that the light pooled inside the engravings on the inside of the ring. “I might not have matched you in symbolism,” he acknowledged. “For one, I don’t do metallurgy and I don’t think I could beat the palladium even if I tried, but I wanted to leave my mark regardless.”
Tony took the implied request that he look, picking up the ring. A shiver ran down his spine, and he realized he was trembling. It took him a moment to realize what it was and he found himself laughing.
C8H11NO2 + C10H12N2O + C43H66N12O12S2
What a nerd. What a beautiful, perfect nerd. The chemical symbols—dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin—followed their individual formulas, a beautiful sketch. It was just so… so Stephen. Only Stephen would break down love into chemistry and mean it, not as a degradation of love but as exaltation of it.
He loved Stephen so much, and it didn’t hurt.
He stood on the precipice and felt himself take that final step. There was no fear, now, that he’d fall. And he was right. He flew.
“They might have a bit of magical energy, too,” Stephen added. “Spells for permanency. Both parts of my life are in that ring. And I want to give all of it to you.”
Tony was about to do something really embarrassing like cry. “Hold this for me for a second,” Tony said, handing the ring back to Stephen. He could feel Stephen’s uncertainty, unsure what it meant.
He reached up behind his neck, found the clasp of the necklace he’d worn for almost a year and for the first time he took it off.
A very real weight seemed to lift from off his shoulders. He met Stephen’s eyes. “I think before I can accept that, I need to give something back to you.” He moved closer bringing the chain around Stephen’s neck and finagling the clasp for a second, fumbling for a moment because his hands still shook.
Stephen reached up, fingers grasping at the ring. His exhale was as ragged as Tony felt. “You mean it?”
Tony nodded, momentarily unable to speak. He found his words again in time to make a demand. “Now give me mine.”
Stephen laughed, skin around his eyes wrinkling with such real joy. “As you wish.” He let go of the ring around his neck, but only so he could take Tony’s ring and bring the chain up and around Tony’s neck. Stephen clasped the chain around Tony’s neck far quicker—Tony suspected magic—and the weight settled heavy on Tony’s chest.
But it was not the weight of empty promises, dragging him down. It was the weight of second chances, grounding him, protecting him from the damage of the past and the possibility of overload in the future, promising him that they’d make it.