Chapter Text
Tony Stark was really good at pretending.
He pretended he wasn’t tired when he stayed up three nights straight fixing a suit that didn’t even need fixing. He pretended the ringing in his ears was just feedback from a bad arc reactor calibration. He pretended the empty space in the tower didn’t bother him after everyone moved out and the Avengers stopped being a team.
And most of all, Tony Stark pretended he didn’t notice Steve Rogers.
Which was stupid, because Steve Rogers was basically impossible not to notice.
Steve was everywhere. In the kitchen at 6 a.m. making eggs like a suburban dad. In the gym punching the bag like it personally offended him. In the hallway giving Tony that stupid soft smile that made his chest feel weird in a way he definitely did not want to unpack.
Tony noticed. He always noticed.
Steve noticed too, which made it worse.
“Did you sleep?” Steve asked one morning, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was wearing a faded Brooklyn Dodgers shirt and sweatpants, which should honestly be illegal.
Tony poured coffee like it had personally insulted him. “Define sleep.”
Steve frowned. He always frowned like he wanted to fix things but didn’t know how, which was kind of his whole thing. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Watch me,” Tony said, taking a sip and immediately burning his tongue. He deserved that.
Steve sighed and crossed his arms. Tony’s mind, being very unhelpful, immediately noticed how strong Steve’s arms this was not fair. Tony had science and sarcasm and anxiety. Steve had morals and muscles and the ability to look at Tony like he actually mattered.
Which was dumb. Tony didn’t need that.(Yes he did)
They didn’t talk about things anymore. Not really. Everything important sat in the air between them like dust you could see when the light hit it just right. Sokovia. Ultron. The Accords. The way Steve left. The way Tony stayed. The way neither of them ever really said sorry properly.
So they talked about dumb stuff instead.
“Your coffee machine is broken,” Steve said.
“It’s not broken,” Tony snapped. “It’s emotionally distressed.”
Steve smiled, and Tony hated how that fixed something inside him.
Later that day, there was a mission. There was always a mission. Something went wrong, because something always did. Tony got hit harder than expected. Steve caught him mid-fall, which was embarrassing and also kind of nice in a way Tony would never admit out loud.
“You good?” Steve asked, holding Tony way too close.
Tony’s suit retracted due to Friday deeming its safe to. “I’m fine, mom.” He said sarcasticly.
“You’re bleeding.”
Tony glanced down. “That’s not ideal.”
Steve’s jaw clenched, and for a second, Tony saw something raw there. Fear. The kind that sits behind the eyes and pretends it isn’t there.
“I’ve got you,” Steve said quietly.
And that was the problem.
Steve always had him. Even when they were on opposite sides. Even when they were fighting. Even when Tony told himself he didn’t care anymore.
Back at the tower, FRIDAY insisted Tony go to the medbay. Steve insisted on staying. Tony didn’t argue, mostly because he was tired and also because Steve’s hand was still hovering near his arm like he didn’t quite trust the universe not to steal Tony away if he looked away.
The silence stretched.
“I didn’t mean for it to end like that,” Steve said suddenly.
Tony laughed, sharp and humorless. “Wow. That clears everything up. Thanks, Capsicle.”
“I’m serious,” Steve said. “I never wanted for you to get hurt.”
Tony looked at him then. Really looked. Steve looked older somehow, even though he didn’t age like a normal person. There were lines around his eyes now. Guilt lines. Regret lines.
“Congrats,” Tony said quietly. “Its not your fault..”
Steve swallowed. “I know...”
Tony leaned back. “You ever think about how messed up we are?” he asked. “Like, the world’s greatest heroes and we can’t even talk like normal people.”
Steve gave a small, sad smile. “You’re not very normal, Tony.”
“Rude.”
“But,” Steve continued, “you’re… you.”
Tony felt his chest tighten again. Stupid chest.
“I thought,” Steve said slowly, “that if I stayed away, you’d be better off.”
Tony laughed again, but this time it cracked halfway through. “Yeah, well. Turns out abandonment issues don’t work like that.”
Steve stepped closer. Tony didn’t move away. That felt important.
“I missed you,” Steve said.
Tony closed his eyes. “You don’t get to say that like it fixes everything.”
“I know,” Steve said. “I just needed you to know.”
Tony opened his eyes. Steve was right there. Too close. Close enough that Tony could see every stupid detail: the tiny scar on Steve’s chin, the way his eyes went soft when he looked at Tony like that.
Like that.
“This is a bad idea,” Tony muttered.
Steve nodded. “Probably.”
Neither of them moved.
Tony had kissed a lot of people. Most of them were distractions. Some of them were mistakes. None of them felt like this moment, heavy and terrifying and fragile.
Steve didn’t kiss him like it was urgent. He kissed him like he was careful. Like Tony might break. Which was unfair, because Tony Stark did not break.
Except he kind of did.
Tony’s hand fisted in Steve’s shirt before he could stop himself. Steve made a soft sound, barely there, and that was it. That was the moment Tony knew he was completely screwed.
They pulled back, foreheads touching.
“This doesn’t erase anything,” Tony said.
“I know,” Steve replied.
“We’re still a mess.”
Steve smiled, small but real. “We always were, but we're a mess together.”
Tony exhaled. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like he was holding the weight of the world alone.
“Stay,” Tony said, before his brain could stop him.
Steve didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Tony pretended he didn’t notice the way his heart finally stopped racing at that.
But he did.
He always did.