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It's Christmas Eve and Tony is rattling around alone in the three story townhouse he has in Manhattan, the one he bought after Happy drove by it one night, just because the lights were on and the people in it were happy and it looked like a warm place to be. Tony stays here a few days out of the year and not a lot of people know. He's here tonight because the Tower is too empty and everywhere else is too far.
If this were a few years ago, Tony would be high off his ass at a party right about now, but he doesn’t do that kind of thing anymore. Tony Stark, all grown up at forty something years old.
Tony had planned to catch up on this year's movies and stuff himself with takeout and get drunk on nice scotch and pretend it isn't really Christmas Eve, or else he'd have to contend with the fact that it is Christmas Eve and he's spending it with no one. Natasha is with her sister, Bruce is with his cousin, Thor is with his girlfriend, and Clint is with his wife and kids. Happy and Rhodey each went home last weekend and Pepper flew out this morning. Tony would've been happy to go for a drink with Sam tonight and get to know him a little better since Steve likes the guy so much, but he's with family in Louisiana for the holidays, too.
And Steve. The only person left in New York who Tony cares about.
Tony's train of thought is interrupted by knocking at the front door. Probably carolers.
Tony has no intention of getting up to open the door, partly because no one really knows that this house is his and he wants to keep it that way and partly because he has no interest in hearing any Christmas carols, but he grabs his phone to take a look at the doorbell camera anyway and—
It's Steve, standing there with snow on his shoulders, the tip of his nose red and his eyes a little red too.
“Hi,” Steve says when Tony yanks opens the door, wide eyed and the look on his face is so inexplicably devastating it could level this city. “I— Merry Christmas.”
They stare at each other for a long moment, just snow falling, glittering little flakes that melt into Steve's hair.
“Merry Christmas,” Tony says, much softer than he meant to as he steps to the side. “Come in.”
In the warm light of the house, Tony can see that Steve’s cheeks and ears are also red. He takes his hands out of his pockets and flexes his fingers. He looks like he’s freezing. “What did you do, walk here from Brooklyn?” Without a hat or a scarf or mittens?
There's a small pause before Steve laughs, a bit awkwardly, and Tony can feel the cold coming off him as he closes the door behind him. “No, I took a cab to the Tower first and you weren't there, and then I couldn't get another cab, so I walked from there.”
Tony doesn't know which thought strikes him first: you were looking for me? or did something happen to you?
“You hungry?” Tony asks instead, nodding at the pile of food over on the coffee table. Not waiting for an answer because Steve is pretty much always hungry enough to eat, he says, “Go sit over there.”
Steve goes where Tony points and Tony turns the temperature up a few degrees while Steve has his back turned to him and the thermostat.
“So what'd you get up to today?” Tony asks, joining Steve on the couch.
“I went to my volunteer shift at that food bank I told you about, and then I went to see Peggy.”
“Yeah? How's she?” Tony asks, carefully. It's not hard to see that she's his greatest soft spot. Maybe something happened at the hospital that made Steve turn up on his doorstep like that.
“Good,” Steve says, his hands clasped together. “She was doing good today. We had dinner, which was nice, then she got tired, so I left.”
“Okay,” Tony says slowly, trying to think of what could've possibly happened between the hospital and here, and then it all clicks together into a complete picture of Steve’s night— Everyone who either of them are close enough to spend Christmas Eve with has left the city, and after seeing Peggy for dinner, Steve had no one else left in New York. Except Tony. So he went to the Tower expecting him to be there, but he wasn't, so Steve came looking here instead because he had nowhere else to go.
Steve just wanted someone to spend Christmas Eve with.
Steve is still sitting there quietly with his jacket on, like he's expecting to leave soon. Tony clears his throat and starts opening containers.
“I've never known you to not be up for a second dinner,” Tony says as nonchalantly as he can. “Go hang up your coat so you stop shedding snow everywhere and get eating, please.”
Steve shifts. “Tony, I—”
“It's okay,” Tony says, looking him in the eye. He's aware that this is new territory for them. It's a vulnerable place to be. “I know. It's okay.”
And then he goes back to setting up the food and he feels Steve hesitate where he is for a moment before getting up, taking off his jacket, and going to hang it up by the door.
“I don't have any dishes so we'll have to use the single use stuff the restaurants gave, but the liquor cabinet's stocked if you wanna take a look,” Tony tells Steve as he passes the kitchen on his way back.
“I keep telling you I can't get drunk,” Steve says.
“I keep telling you that's just what you think,” Tony says.
With the tiniest hint of a smile, Steve obliges by grabbing a bottle of Macallan out of the cabinet.
Later, Steve laughs at him for ordering food from four different restaurants and Tony ribs him about spending the day volunteering like he's a walking public service announcement. Steve looks like he's warmed up and the only flush in his cheeks is from laughing. Sometimes Tony is still surprised by how much the two of them have to talk about. At some point in the evening, not half as drunk as he'd expected to be tonight, Tony decides that given a choice, he'd spend Christmas Eve like this again in a heartbeat, which means he's no longer here with Steve because he has nowhere to be—he's here with Steve because this is where he wants to be.
It's almost two in the morning when Tony glances at the clock. “Oh, I think we're past your bedtime. Wanna crash here?”
“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, his eyes soft. “Thanks, Tony. I'll take the couch.”
“Well, the house has a furnished guest room, I'm pretty sure,” Tony says. “We can go look for it. What are you up to tomorrow, anyhow? Saving puppies?”
The corners of Steve's mouth turn up. “I'm volunteering at the animal shelter a few blocks over from here.”
“Of course you are,” Tony says, patting Steve’s leg. “I was planning to sleep in and be hungover, but you ruined that. I guess I can do something productive instead.”
“Like buy dishes for this house,” Steve says, then laughs at his own joke.
“Honestly, maybe,” Tony says, smiling. This house hadn't felt like it'd been lived in by anyone, not even him, until Steve came knocking tonight. Now it does and that probably warrants some dishes and clothes and all. Tony is pretty adamant about not leaving this house until after Boxing Day, so he might as well spend some of tomorrow online shopping. He wonders if he'll see Steve tomorrow. “Is your animal shelter shift a whole day thing or do you wanna come over again after?”
“It's until four,” Steve says, “so everyone can be home for Christmas dinner.” He pauses. “Do you have Christmas dinner plans?”
“Nope. You?”
“No,” Steve says, and for some reason, Tony imagines him walking back to his apartment alone and putting a frozen dinner in the microwave. “Maybe we can do something.”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “Come over after and we'll figure something out. I'll be here.”
Steve softens even more, like what Tony just said had made him really happy. And now they both have somewhere to go on Christmas day.
-
Tony sees Steve to the door the next morning. Everything is blanketed in snow and shimmering in the light.
“We could cook for ourselves tonight if you had any pots or pans,” Steve says on his way out, burying his nose in the scarf Tony lent him.
“Believe me, nobody wants that,” Tony says, tossing his hat to Steve. “It'd be a waste of good groceries.”
Steve laughs and makes his way down the front steps, stamping perfect footprints in the snow.
“Hey,” Tony blurts.
Steve turns around and looks up at him from the sidewalk, shining in the sun. “Yeah?”
“Don't spend New Year's Eve by yourself,” Tony says. “You suck at being alone.”
Steve smiles, and it's the real thing. “Don't give yourself too much credit. You're not great at it either.”
Tony smiles back at him. “See you tonight then.”
“See you tonight,” Steve says back, pulling Tony's hat on over his ears and giving him a wave—his hands in Tony's mittens—before heading down the block towards the animal shelter.
Watching him go, Tony feels the feeling that made him want to buy this house in the first place. Like the lights are on, the people are happy, and this is a warm place to be.