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“Ramonda went to settle her final business with Shuri and T'Challa,” Tony said, entering Steve and Barnes’s room—Bucky, Tony corrected himself.
Bucky had asked for that, expressly stating it was his name, and Tony believed it was the first request he’d made in quite some time.
The least Tony could do was respect it.
“Yeah,” Steve nodded, briefly looking up from his work, what appeared to be a stunning drawing of Wakanda, to smile at Tony. “Bucky’s with them discussing the details. He’s really good at all that bureaucracy.”
Tony smiled. It was evident that now that Steve could delegate his duties to someone else, he was more than happy to do so, acting just like the kid he was supposed to be.
“Not you?” Tony asked, smiling at the grimace of pure disgust that crossed Steve’s face.
“It’s not one of my strengths,” Steve admitted. “Which explains why I’ve kept Bucky around my whole life.” At Tony’s raised eyebrow, Steve explained, “Who do you think fills out all the paperwork?”
Tony laughed, stepping a little closer to Steve to get a better look at his drawing.
Noticing a lock of blond hair that had grown a bit too long, Tony reached out his hand, not wanting Steve to smear his face if he tried to move it away himself.
But as soon as his hand entered Steve’s field of vision, the other man flinched, pulling away from it, from Tony.
With a hollow ache opening up in his chest, Tony gave a shaky smile to Steve, whose expression had shifted from pure panic to guilt.
“I didn’t mean to…” Steve began, and Tony, heartbreak notwithstanding, smiled weakly. “I know. I understand.”
“Tony, I’m sorry, I…” Steve tried to apologize, but Tony shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Steve. It’s my fault.”
“No, you…” Steve started to say, but Tony stopped him.
“Steve, I wanted to kill Bucky. Even if I didn't know the extent of it, I knew he was important to you. And I wanted to kill him right in front of your eyes, just for revenge,” Tony said, staring intently at the man who could have been Tony’s son, but who had instead been forced into the role of co-leader of the Avengers. Or, given the level of responsibility Tony bore, the sole leader.
Uh, actually, he's the boss. I just pay for everything and design everything and make everyone look cooler.
It was a joke, but also the truth.
Steve was their boss, their leader.
And Tony had wanted to hurt him.
“I was angry with you because you hadn't signed. I was irritated because I knew that if you had, everyone else would have too,” Tony swallowed hard as the confessions spilled from his lips. “You were right not to sign. And it was only my own guilt that made me want to do it so badly.”
“Ultron wasn't your fault, Tony,” Steve said.
Tony snapped his head up, locking eyes with Steve.
“You and Bruce should have told us what you were planning, but if I’d known what you had in mind, I would have approved the idea as well,” Steve continued. “And if the Accords had been in place, Ultron might have been authorized, but Vision wouldn't have been.”
“You weren't exactly on board with the idea either, if I recall correctly,” Tony murmured, wondering if anyone, anyone at all, had ever absolved him of the Ultron incident. “And you trusted the Maximoffs.” More than me, he didn't say it. But he thought it.
“I didn’t realize you wanted my approval so much; otherwise, I would have said so sooner.” Steve looked confused, as if he genuinely believed Tony didn’t care what Steve thought about him. “As for what happened before—” Steve was careful when mentioning that flinch, the one born of trying to avoid Tony, but Tony would never forget it. “—I know you won’t hurt me, not anymore, but... well, it’s not easy to forget. Not that I wouldn’t want to, believe me.”
Although Steve’s desire might have had more to do with seeing Bucky hurt than with the pain Tony felt over all the blows he’d dealt Steve.
“I know,” Tony said anyway. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’m allowed to stay here. Everyone is fiercely protective.”
Steve smiled at the thought. “And I have a suit like T’Challa’s, but it’s a lion. Bucky has the wolf.”
Tony snorted. “Yeah, I know. Though right now, you look more like a golden retriever than a lion.”
“I have layers,” Steve replied dryly, making Tony laugh even harder.
Then, the man’s gaze fell on the lock of hair that had started it all.
“May I?” he asked, raising his hand to convey his intent through both gesture and words.
Steve nodded, keeping a close watch on Tony’s movements but relaxing at the man’s touch as he gently adjusted his hair.
“Your hair is really soft,” Tony commented after a moment of silence, trying to ease the tension. “And long.”
“Bucky likes them long,” Steve said. “He won’t admit it, though. He just hides or destroys the scissors and razors around the house, then acts like an idiot, pretending he had nothing to do with it.”
Tony burst out laughing, wondering what the two of them had been like when living together, back when the feelings they harbored went unspoken.
“You’ll stop being afraid of me,” Tony promised, looking Steve in the eye with all the seriousness he could muster.
“Tony, I’m not afraid of you,” Steve murmured. “You’re my friend.”
“I know.” Tony nodded. “And you’ll stop being afraid of me.”
Tony would do it for Steve.
Steve deserved it.