Chapter Text
"Did you kiss him back?" Tony asks.
It's a simple question, really.
A five-word question requiring a simple one-worded answer. Even a mere nod of agreement or shake of denial would suffice. If Steve fooled himself enough, he could take it as one of those hard-headed questions Fury would ask him during debrief after a mission gone successful yet not okay enough. He had enough experience with boring debriefs conducted by even more boring Directors. Except it isn't simple at all.
No power or no weird magic from even Asgard could make Steve ignore the heaviness that relied upon his to be given answer. A simple yes or no? More like, a mere word that could break his relationship - his four-year-old beautiful, amazing relationship - into nothing but shattered pieces of glass and knowing Tony, he would hurt himself even more upon those.
Tony.
Oh, Tony.
The engineer is sitting on the opposite end of the couch, the distance between them stinging Steve in all the wrong places. His soft brown hair - that he loved when Steve played with them - is messily sprawled across. He is wearing one of Steve's black hoodies that reach a bit above his mid-thigh and his hands are visibly fidgeting with the hems of the sleeves. His shoulders are hunched as if to make himself as small as possible, as if decreasing the area of impact could make it hurt less, as if he had to protect himself. Protect himself from Steve.
Who would have ever thought that Steve Rogers could be a cheater?
"I- Tony, I-" The words clog up in his throat and he realizes he hasn't felt this guilty since he ran out on his Mama one cold evening just because he wanted to play. He takes a deep breath, maybe it's a leap of courage or a jump of fear, and he says, "Yes."
Steve Rogers might be a cheater but he won't be a liar about it.
He hears Tony's breath hitch and Steve wants to cry. He wants to cry and fall on his knees and beg for his forgiveness but a part of him knows that he doesn't deserve it. Tony visibly flinches and Steve's heart shatters into a million pieces because he did this to Tony -- his Tony who had developed a dislike against strawberries, his Tony who sucked at cooking but had one of the best recipes for a comforting cup of hot chocolate, his Tony to whom Steve had promised on their first night that he would always love him-- even though "always" didn't exist in their line of work. He had promised Tony that it had always been him and it always will be.
He never intended to break those promises. He still doesn't. But, three hours ago, just like another normal visit, Bucky Barnes showed up at the tower. He showed up there and kissed him. And what did Steve do? He kissed him back.
"I thought," Tony says, his voice nothing short of a mere whisper, "I thought you didn't like him like that. Anymore."
"I don't!" Steve replies quickly, too quickly for it to be believable and it's as clear as day Tony doesn't believe him. He doesn't believe himself either and yet, he speaks on, "I-I don't know what happened, Tony. I swear-"
"You promised, Steve." The accusation in his tone is well-deserved and maybe, just maybe, if Steve chooses to focus on anything else but his lover's brown eyes then he could ignore the misty layer of tears threatening to spill. "You gave me your word that you didn't feel that way about him anymore-- when I was- when I was feeling like--" Like the moment your long lost best friend returned from the dead, you would choose him over me.
Steve had never been a stranger to Tony's insecurities and when SHIELD broke the news to him, that a certain very familiar James Buchanan Barnes had turned himself in, those insecurities had flared up despite trying to control them. Steve had then held him tightly against his chest, whispering sweet nothings into his ears, promising him that his feelings for Bucky had been left behind in the ice-- seems like Steve broke a lot of promises today.
"So, tell me, did you enjoy it, Steve? Was your lost Cinderella exactly how you had imagined?" Tony grits out and a masochistic part of Steve is mildly relieved that the anger has taken over the blatant hurt because he would rather deal with an angry Tony. All the Asgardian Gods know, he deserves all of it.
Tony stands up from the couch, his hands tightly crossed against his chest as his wide brown eyes look down upon Steve. His voice turned a few pitches higher, the emotions visible, "Tell me, was he a better kisser than me?"
"Baby, no." Steve let out a pained noise, hurriedly stepping forward to close the distance between them. His hands settle upon Tony's forearms who stirs against his touch, making Steve flinch. "It's not- Don't think like that-"
"Don't tell me what to think-"
"--I love you, Tony. Please. You are the one I love and I want." He finally feels his own cheeks dampen with his warm tears at seeing the disbelief in his lover's eyes at the declaration. His next words are nothing but a messy string of vocals. "You need to know that. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I would never."
Tony stares at him and then whispers, "Then, why did you?"
Why did he, indeed?
He stares down at the small man in his arms -- one of the most amazing, intelligent, gorgeous human beings he had ever known. When Steve had woken up in a world - a time - that was not his, Tony had opened up his home to him. When Steve had been struck with the grim realization that the world was no better than he had left it, that it still needed Captain America, Tony had been right there in his armour fighting along with him with a promise of safety. When Steve told Tony one night, that Captain America forgot that he used to be a sick kid from Brooklyn with nothing but morals, Tony had kissed him for the first time saying that yeah, Captain America might be cool but Steve Rogers was pretty damn amazing.
Steve has everything he could possibly ever want right here in his arms, then why did he?
He opens his mouth slightly but no words escape him. Then, finally, he says, his voice dripping with shame and uncertainty, "I don't know."
And that's all he has to offer. He could possibly try to explain why he kissed him back but it feels like he doesn't know it himself. Maybe something about Bucky being his first love or that he was the only link he had left to his previous life or maybe he felt bad for Bucky because he was still recovering. But they all seemed like excuses, not explanations and Tony deserves more than that. And yet, all he can give him is a simple "I don't know". Four years of understanding and love. And all it boils down to is a simple three-word sentence with him admitting that he has no idea what's wrong with him.
"You don't know." Tony's voice is empty and he detaches his arms from Steve's touch. He closes his eyes in exasperation, rubbing his hands upon his face. He isn't crying yet and Steve doesn't know if he will be able to handle it if he does. Tony doesn't say anything for a few moments, his brown eyes concentrated on the far right corner of their room. Finally, he looks up at Steve.
"So," He says, the slight tremor in his voice shimmering at the surface, "This is it, huh. I guess we are done here."
The air is knocked out of Steve's lungs and for one moment, he's back there, about to go under the ice. Everything is just so cold and nothing seems to make it better. The time has slowed down to the smallest unit and he hates the way his own skin feels. "Tony," He manages to gasp out, his hands stretching towards his lover who just shakes his head and backtracks, "Please. Can we just- just talk about this? We can work through this, please, I-"
"Jesus, Steve, you are killing me here!" He comes forward at once, his fists resting against the V-neck of Steve's red sweater. "What do you want, huh? Do you want me to end this because you can't? Or do you want me to ignore the fact that you cheated on me with Bucky, the same man regarding whom you assured me repeatedly that I had nothing to worry about? What the fuck do you want me to do?"
"I want you to not leave." The words leave in a rushed whisper from his lips, his tears tainting his cheeks red. "You are standing away and- and you are looking like you are going to leave and it's making it so hard for me to say the right thing. Please, just, please stay. We can-"
"I am about to leave. I can't- God, I can't even look at you, right now."
"Tony-"
"For fuck's sake, Steven! I am so-so-," Tony cries out in frustration, "Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid I feel right now? You kissed him. You kissed him right here in our home. You say you don't have any feelings for him but even you don't believe that. You kissed him and you don't know why." He clenches his eyes shut and a couple of tears fall down upon his cheeks. Steve wishes someone would just stab him. "Fuck, Steve, you haven't even said sorry yet."
Realization hits him like a cold wave of ice, holds him down till he can't breathe anymore, till he wishes someone would shoot him right through his heart because fuck. He messed up. He messed up so badly. He stares at the resigned expression on his boyfriend's face, as if he has already lost. "I am sorry," He manages to choke out amidst the tears and stinging in his throat. He pulls Tony closer against his chest and clings to him tightly, as if his life depends on it, and for once Tony doesn't protest. He continues mumbling, a mess of sobs and sorry's, "I am so sorry. Forgive me. I am sorry. I am so sorry. Please. I love you. I love you. I am sorry--scream at me if you want, hit me but believe me, I am sorry-- I would take it back if I could. I love--"
So, for a moment, they stay like that. Steve's tall stature bent down to wrap around Tony's small one. His lips against his lover's olive skin leaving behind a trail of whispered apologies and kisses. They both stay there, a combined mess of tears and apologies and broken hearts before Tony pushes back but not much to completely move away. "I have to go, Steve. I can't stay here."
"Tony, this is your tower, your home, please-"
"I can't. I just can't." He shakes his head as if to remove the mental picture that his brain just couldn't stop putting up. "I need some time and you need to -you need to figure out what's going on with you."
"Are you breaking up with me?" Steve asks, his voice breaking towards the end.
Tony stares at him for a moment as Steve stares at him, holding his breath. "No." The mechanic steps forward, his hands resting on either side of his face. He runs his thumb along Steve's cheek, a face that he has memorized after all these years. A sad smile paints his lips as he says, "I love you so much, Steve. So much so that I never thought I could ever feel this much for one person. You are the only person in my life that I am sure about-- and that's coming from me, the guy who second-guesses every time he breathes." He snorts in his usual self-deprecation tone before continuing, "I am sure about us but- but I can't go to bed with you knowing you don't feel the same."
"I do feel-"
"No," Tony shakes his head, letting go of his boyfriend who flinches at the loss of contact, "If you did, you wouldn't have kissed him back. And as much as I love you, I can't be just a "maybe" or "I don't know" for you, Steve. I can't. I won't. So," He takes a deep breath, turning away to look at their blue curtains because for the love of his life, he could not bear to look at Steve with that heartbroken look on his face. "So, I am gonna go stay at Pepper's for a few days, okay? Until you figure out what do you want-- whom do you want."
"I want you," Steve whispers, staring down at his empty hands.
"I don't think you know what you want, Steve," Tony says, gathering up enough courage to hold one of his hands, trying to provide a comforting smile as if it wasn't killing him to say this, "I would understand whatever you go with."
Steve's fingers found themselves among the gaps of Tony's and squeezed, knowing it wasn't enough. "I love you, Tony."
"I know." He manages to say, willing every cell in his body to believe what Steve said. They had been together for four years, he could give him that at least. "It's okay, Steve. I know."
Steve Rogers was born sixty days early than his assigned due date. He was a bundle of nerves and diseases- he had a heart condition, asthma, eye problems, partial deafness in his left ear. You name a bacterial infection back in the forties, and he probably has had it. Steve Rogers had punched Nazis and led fights against them. He knew the battlefield and he knew trauma. He knew loss. Steve Rogers had woken up in a world that wasn't his anymore and still continued fighting. He had lost so many friends, comrades, his whole life once.
At this point, he's no stranger to pain.
And yet, nothing - absolutely nothing - could have prepared him to deal with his broken heart as he watched Tony leave through that door.