Work Text:
Steve didn't know what he was actually doing there. Coming to that party had been an impulsive decision, one of those rare occasions where he let his heart lead him instead of his head, feelings over rationality. And most of those impulsive decisions ended up badly, but he'd always been a stubborn man, he needed to face the consequences before learning.
The thing was, as soon as he'd found out that there would've been a Stark Industries event in New York to announce some big, new invention that would've helped society to make another step further towards a more sustainable future, Steve hadn't thought twice before grabbing his motorcycle keys and helmet. The reason why he'd felt that compelling urge right then was a mystery to him; or, maybe, he knew exactly what had pushed him but looking too close to it would've hurt too much.
Anyway, that impulsive decision had been made and that was how he found himself dwelling around the main entrance of that place, paying attention to everything and nothing in particular, his focus was on something else - well, someone else, more likely. He knew that now it was Pepper who was in charge at the Stark Industries while Tony worked in the background, only giving his inputs when asked. How did Steve learn that information? Still being in contact with a retired spy helped a lot.
And the fact it was Pepper who dealt with the press, too, was reflected by the demurer locations she chose for that kind of events. Nothing too sparkling, too ostentatious. He wondered what Tony thought about it.
Tony.
Just as that fleeting thought crossed his mind, he spotted a familiar crown of brown hair at the bar, despite the distance that divided them. Brown hair that turned salt and pepper on the sides, as well as the sideburns, barely noticeable but thanks to his enhanced sight, he still could catch on those details. He guessed there were sprinkles of grey in the trademark goatee, too.
He would've never forgotten that posture, as if he still held the fate of the world in his palm, as if he was the same confident man Steve met over a decade ago. However, that posture swayed a bit, the movements of his arms and head sluggisher than usual, than Steve remembered.
Steve didn't realize he moved until he was just a few feet from the man himself. He didn't realize he'd been holding on his breath until a shaky puff slipped from his lips. He suddenly felt his prussian blue shirt constrictive around his throat.
What did he think he could achieve by appearing out of nowhere?
Anxiety crawled in rippling, violent waves under his skin and he was about to abort that stupid stupid plan and flee, when someone bumped into him from behind. He was quick enough to hold himself on the counter, but doing so, he leaned by Tony's right side, startling him.
Those warm hues that Steve promised himself he would've never seen again were staring at him in a mix of shock and something… deeper, but indistinct, unfathomable. “Oh, I see ghosts now. Wonderful, my therapist’s gonna be thrilled about it.” the words slurred a little from Tony's lips, followed by a sneer.
That comment made Steve's body stiffen despite his best intentions of calming down. “Tony-” he tried to fix that disaster of reconciliation, but Tony cut him short.
The latter lifted the glass he was loosely holding in his left hand. “Cap.” he greeted him, popping the last letter with a smack of his lips, while a challenge awaited in his hazed look.
Although Tony was clearly on the defensive and not in his rightest mind, although that title didn't belong to him anymore and hurt, Steve couldn't help but smile looking at him.
“Hi, Tony.” he tried again, and some of the tension left him at once when he noticed that Tony straightened himself on the stool and turned to face him better.
“It's so you, to pop up like nothing happened.” Tony murmured against the brim of the glass, his eyes pinning Steve on the spot. “At least you're smiling, this time.” he added after a beat, then snorted. He drank a sip and shook his head slowly.
Steve didn't know what to say and felt like an idiot. That was what he should've expected, acting on impulsiviness, and yet he still went on on that path.
“Can I-?” he left the question hanging between them, tilting his head towards the empty stool next to Tony. And Tony shrugged his consent.
And so, Steve sat by his side, losing himself in watching Tony’s profile. He was right, grey sprouted in his beard, too. There were new lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Steve saved those notions for the next time he would've picked his pencil and sketched that same face on a blank page.
“Didn't click you as a fan of this kind of events.” Tony broke the charged silence that had fallen between them, as he gestured vaguely with his right hand. His prosthetic hand. Now that Steve could observe it better, he noticed that it wasn't metallic, as he suspected it would've been knowing Tony, but made of some sort of lighter yet strong material, adaptable, flexible. It looked like a real arm, through and through, but the majority of its lining was golden, with red details on the junctures and seams and some silver wires, a reference to Iron Man's colors.
Steve gulped down the lump in his throat that threatened to not let him talk. “Well, I happened to be around and thought…” he couldn't even finish that sentence, it sounded wrong even to his own ears. As if he could fool Tony with such an excuse.
In fact, Tony blew raspberries, throwing a sharp side glance at him.
“Spare me.” he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, although his eyelids looked heavy.
Tony was bringing the glass to his mouth again when Steve felt brave, or idiotic enough, to utter “Tony, I missed you.”
He saw Tony’s grip tightening, his lips pressing into a thin, hard line. He swallowed around nothing, then lowered the glass on the counter. He spun around with his whole body and now they were staring at each other, eye to eye.
“Me too.” Tony's voice sounded resigned, like he couldn't do anything against that fact. And Steve understood him to some degrees. Yet, his eyes shone so vividly as he confessed it.
Silence again filled the space between them, but it didn't feel as thick and stifling as before. Something snapped within both of them, Steve's chest felt lighter already. Was it the same for Tony?
Steve didn't know how long they stood there, just… looking at each other. Tony's attentive eyes scanned his face, that warmed up under that scrutiny. He wasn't used to it anymore.
“They invented razors, you know.” Tony was the first to speak again, though his tone was hushed, like he didn't want to break that strange atmosphere, that spell that brought them together at last.
To Steve, it felt like a dive into the past, when they could joke like that, despite their disagreements. It felt like they were back on the Quinjet. Back at the Compound. It felt like the last mission they did together, the time travel before the end of all battles, for real that time.
An amused laugh bubbled up in his throat, but came out wetter than it was supposed to. Emotions were already twisting in Steve's gusts, emotions that he'd been trying to suppress for years. Tony had that effect on him.
“Realized I don't mind it.” he admitted as he scratched his bearded chin absentmindedly.
Tony just nodded, his gaze lingered a bit longer on Steve's lower part of the face, making him feel self-aware all of the sudden. He couldn't help the flush that spread down his neck.
"Hairdressers, too." his gaze strayed up to his hair, now, and Steve caught the way the fingers of Tony's right hand that laid upon his thigh twitched. Like he wanted to flick the errant tuft of hair that Steve knew had fallen on his forehead, just to emphasize the joke, but stopped himself. That notion made Steve's heart skip a beat or two. He would've let him.
Steve's hair was longer than he used to wear it in the past, when he'd been just out of the ice. Everyone told him that it looked good on him, and as much as he trusted his friends, he never actually believed that, not because they would've lied to him, but because he still didn't believe to be that attractive. Yet, now that Tony was looking at him, like he was seeing him for the first time, he started to.
He cleared his throat as he pulled at his shirt’s collar a bit, his eyes straying away from Tony for a moment or two.
“I thought you would've spent your time as a retired superhero better than haunting one of your ex colleagues while he's drinking his misery.” Tony pointed out, a grimace twisting his refined mustache as he slowly swirled the liquid in his glass.
Ex colleagues. Another blow that Steve needed to take, because he knew Tony was right. Despite that fragile, sweet truce Tony had been able to establish while they had been facing Thanos, things weren’t magically alright. Not when Steve had disappeared, again.
Nonetheless, he couldn't let that comment undermine his refound resolution.
"When I’ve given up on Captain America’s title to the next generation, there was a part of me that wondered if it was the right choice. A delusional, selfish part of me that didn't want to let go of it. And I felt guilty, because Sam deserved his chance." he started, his eyes cast down to his own hands, writhing on his lap, and he didn't know if he was talking to Tony or he was just saying out loud what he'd been thinking for the past year but never dared to express. "I thought living a normal life would've been easy, but I realized that it’s not, not for people like us.” he admitted in a rush, like he was ashamed of that thought and if he’d said it fast enough it would've disappeared from his mind as soon as it was out. But he knew it didn't work like that, unfortunately. However, when he forced himself look at Tony again, he only met a silent sympathy.
"You have your opportunity, you gotta ride with it.” Tony spoke instead, his tone harsher than his eyes. “You told me that once you wanted simple, at the end of the day." he reminded Steve then, his brows furrowing as his thumb rubbed against the glass.
Steve actually blinked at that, thinking that Tony would've forgotten about such a trivial conversation between them, held outside the Avengers Compound as they had been bidding each other goodbye. Especially after all the violence that occurred in the meantime. "Old Steve Rogers did. Yeah, I used to. I thought that it changed as the years passed, but I found myself wishing for simple again after Thanos and all; still, I-" his attention was briefly caught by the hypnotic motion of Tony's thumb. "I feel like I'm nothing without Captain America. And I knew it would've happened, feared it, that's why I couldn't let myself think about simple, because I'll never get it." it was the first time he was able to acknowledge it. Being honest to himself, specifically.
The chuckle that escaped Tony's mouth almost surprised him. "Steve, you're.." mouth that now pursed to one side, his eyes narrowing. Then he waved a hand dismissively, before going for a long sip of scotch.
"Without your armor, you're still a genius, Tony. You've got a good heart, you put your brain into helping others, helping the entire world, you're a great father," his voice cracked at the end of the sentence, his heart clenching in his chest. You've got a family echoed in his mind.
Another chuckle, even more bitter than the last. “Thirteen years ago you told me the exact opposite.” he let go of the glass to pin his elbow on the counter, leaning his cheek on the open palm of his left hand.
“Stuff happened, mind changed.” Steve quipped, his voice way too soft in comparison to the underlying meaning of the words.
Tony was peering down into his drink, now. Silent, like he was still considering Steve's words and looking for an answer under liquid layers of burnt amber.
When that pause stretched for too long, Steve sighed, more to keep his anxiety at bay more than out of boredom. "I thought you quit drinking." he changed the subject, but immediately regretted it when he saw Tony wince.
"Me too, but here I am." he shrugged his right shoulder. Before Steve could speak further, Tony cast him a look that stirred something within Steve's core, sending a shiver run down his spine.
"Tony-"
"If we're really doing this, I need some air." the latter abruptly stood up from his stool and made a beeline to the exit that headed to the roof. Steve was left gaping at the empty space in front of him, then once the shock subsided, promptly followed the other man, not after checking that none was looking at them.
When he reached the top of the building, Tony had his back turned, his posture way more sober, yet he was hunched onward.
Steve drew closer and saw that Tony had placed his crossed arms on the railing. Once he was next to him, he saw that his gaze was lost somewhere beyond New York’s skyline, beyond the dark horizon. Steve couldn't help but observe him, his gorgeous profile, his long eyelashes that fluttered against the gentle breeze of the night.
"After the battle-" Tony began after a while, rubbing one branded shoe on the floor, restless, always restless. "Took me some time to recover from, you know." he snapped his fingers, his right hand, making a face. "But I still couldn't let all go: Iron Man, our fucked up team of superheroes, our mission and beliefs. Not entirely.” affection softened his features and Steve felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. “I... relented when Rhodes said that the Avengers were regrouping, but under another lead. That's when I realized you were gone, too.” he thumped the railing with the same foot, a metallic screech followed, “It’s been a long time but, remember when I told you that I hate resentment? That still stands. I-I think I had forgiven you way before our second rodeo with Thanos, but..” he stopped, then his shoulders shook, the sound of an incredulous, broken chuckle came a bit later, “Steve, I woke up and Rhodes told me that you weren't there. It's stupid but I… I don't know, I felt.." he bit his lower lip, Steve noticed it was quivering. "It felt like back in Siberia."
Steve exhaled shakily at that confession, clasping his hands into fists at his sides, but he wouldn't have interrupted him.
"I felt betrayed, because.." he lifted his gaze to the sky, up, up to where the moon shone, and its soft rays made stars twinkling in those warm, sad eyes. "Steve, you never visited. Never called. Not even once. Not even a fucking text. Not a fucking pigeon or whatever. Anything would've been good, but no. No sign, nothing." there was a damp, wobbly edge to his voice now and Steve's heart dropped to his stomach. His mouth moved around nothing, he couldn't come up with a good reason why he ran away, again. Why he hid himself, again.
"Why is it always like this between us?" Tony finally turned to look at him and what Steve found on his face was... utter defeat. Unscattered tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
"You never really gave us a, a chance-" he made an irritated noise at the back of his throat, gritting his teeth, before letting out a deep, tired sigh. "And I tried so hard-" he made a step towards Steve, who thought that the other might've moved unconsciously because he briskly halted before he could actually get into Steve's personal space. Not that it would've taken much, as close as they were already.
"Tony-" he said, instead of all the thoughts that were reeling in his head upon hearing and seeing the pain that Tony had felt and still did. His eyes giving him away, always giving him away.
You're right, I should've tried harder myself.
You're right, you deserved better. We deserved better.
You're right, we could've been something beautiful, precious.
“It all felt like it was for nothing. I saved the world, but-” Tony stopped himself again, ending up gripping at the railing with his left hand, gnawing at his own lips. And Steve knew he shouldn't focus on that, yet his gaze fell there nonetheless, like it was drawn to it.
"Not even Pepper could stand my sorry ass after that, and you know how permissive she’s been with me for all this time." Tony confided, his clutch releasing while he stared at a point somewhere behind Steve's left leg. "She asked for a divorce a few months later after I woke up." he explained better after a poignant pause, then folded his arms again on the metallic balcony.
"T-Tony.." he carefully but surely gravitated to Tony, his hand on his synthetic forearm. "How are you?" that question sounded so pathetic, he was aware of it, but it was too late to bite it back.
And in fact, Tony huffed a sardonic chuckle, then shook his head. "Lost. But at least Morgan is doing fine among all this crap. Pepper and I have always been first and foremost friends, so we're making it work." he shrunk between his shoulders, and Steve wanted to hug him, but couldn't.
Pepper and Morgan. They’d been a reasonable excuse to Steve for not coming back, for not intruding on their life, but apparently not to Tony. Well, Tony couldn't know, because Tony couldn't know how Steve came to understand that the simple life Tony himself talked to him about was worth trying only with Tony at his side. Time had never been his ally, though: Tony had had that simple life already, and Steve wouldn't have taken it from him.
Now, however…
"You're back in Brooklyn, I guess." Tony commented shortly after, his gaze fixed on Steve's hand on his forearm, making the latter realize he was still touching him. Making the latter realize how close he was standing by Tony, at the moment. Steve could smell his cologne under the thin whiff of alcohol. Could count the freckles covering the bridge of his nose. Could count his right eye’s eyeslashes, one by one. Could count the grey stripes in his hair. His hair, of a lighter brown than it used to be, flowing into flecks of gold at the lengths, as if the gold of Iron Man itself effused every fiber of his being.
If he leaned forward, closed the gap, his sternum would've touched Tony's shoulder.
Tony didn't push him away.
"Actually, I've got a flat in Manhattan." Steve replied as an afterthought, too caught in Tony's presence.
Tony chuckled at that information, it sounded more genuine that time, at least.
Suddenly he spun his head, facing Steve again. He didn't pull back. "It's been a year." he stated matter-of-factly, yet his eyes.. too expressive, Tony should've guarded himself more.
"Yeah." Steve uselessly supplied, and maybe he should've guarded himself more, too. Because that earned him a quick yet tender tug of lips that awfully resembled a smile.
"You stubborn piece of shit." those words lacked the heat they required to actually be an efficient insult. In fact, to Steve they felt like both a stab in his heart and a caress on his cheek, equally stinging.
And he couldn't blame Tony for saying that. "I didn't know you still wanted me in your life." it came out more pitiful than intended to.
"Jesus, Steven, you're so obtuse." maybe it was the alcohol that made Tony's tongue even looser, or maybe he was just tired of pretending, of being cautious. Again, Steve couldn't blame him.
"Of course I wanted you! I've always wanted you, that's the problem!" Tony snapped, his voice getting higher, those golden pools looked shinier again, not from the moonshine but from unleashed tears. Before they could fall, though, he batted them away, "Call me nostalgic, or a hopeless romantic, but... Figured I couldn't get rid of you. Not from my mind, not from my-" he screwed his eyes shut, turning his head to the opposite side, but he brought his free hand to his chest. On the arc reactor that shone through his amaranth purple shirt. If it was intentional or not, Steve couldn't decide.
As soon as he registered what that gesture alluded, Steve's heartbeat spiked up, rang in his ears: that hardly used muscle hidden behind his ribcage rattled like an old shutter in an abandoned house, a house flooding with long gone memories; rattled by the force of what laid under Tony's words, that came and swept everything away in a gust.
Steve was too stunned to breathe, let alone to speak. "Why are we here?" Tony's question reverbered in the minimal space between them.
"You wanted some fresh air." Steve's choked reply sounded far away, his heartbeat still echoing in his skull.
Tony glared at the other man, yet it coaxed a grin out of him, that he tried to hide but with poor results. "Stop it."
Steve sighed, his gaze drifting away among dull stars and shadows of skyscrapers.
"Why now? Why you came up to me? Why you couldn't just leave me be?" Tony asked, Steve felt him tense under his palm. "You're a champ in that." he snickered, even if his tone wasn't matching the evil intent of that reminder; his tone was just exhausted.
Steve brought his gaze back on him. Waited a moment longer before asking "Is it too late?"
Tony's eyes widened imperceptibly, then hardened again. "To what?" he aimed for defensive, but that facade was slipping again.
"To make amends." Steve replied and it felt like another weight had been lifted from his chest, heavier than the one he left at the bar earlier. "To start once more. Together." he continued, knowing he was asking for more than he deserved. But he wouldn't have run away, not again. He would've gently picked that infamous olive branch, planted it, cherished it, let it bloom into a strong, marvelous tree. In time, with patience. If Tony would've allowed him to. Together, if Tony would've wanted to, like they would've always supposed to.
Tony considered him for a long time, his expression unreadable. He tapped his left fingers on the railing, while his other arm was still trapped under Steve's gentle hold, then turned in Steve's direction with his whole body. Steve's hand slowly slid away with the movement, yet the warmth of synthetic flesh lingered on his fingertips.
"I," Tony's lips trembled, shut, then opened again, as a multitude of emotions flashed in those honeyed hues. "I don't know." he said, his shoulders slumping down.
"Whatever you offer, I'll accept. I'll follow your pace."
"Steve-" he deflected his gaze for a moment, "Don't... make me say, or do, things I could regret tomorrow morning." he warned as he twisted his head to the side, yet he risked a quick glance at Steve. Was he testing him?
The charged meaning of those words made Steve's cheeks flare up despite his attempts to quell his hopeful heart.
"You don't need to give me an answer tonight, I'll wait. I'll-"
Tony's prosthetic hand now gingerly brushed against Steve's.
Steve blinked in surprise, finding himself once again at loss before Tony. He tilted his head in confusion, before lowering his gaze to see Tony playfully tapping his fingertips against his, spurring him to do... something.
Steve's tongue knotted in his throat as he was slowly catching up with everything.
There was a song playing in the background, coming from the hall below; the door had been left ajar and its melody reached them despite the several flights of stairs separating them from the band playing it. Steve's heightened hearing caught it clearly, now that he was paying attention. If he wasn't mistaken, it was Secret Love by Doris Day, a song he remembered discovering years ago while watching Calamity Jane, during one of those movie nights the team sometimes had done when living together at the Avengers Tower. Tony had thought Steve would've liked western movies, due to the fact he was the walking embodiment of patriotism, and at that time Steve had laughed, as a strange fondness for that infuriating but charming man had been slowly taking roots in his core. And wasn't it funny to hear it now, in that situation. Or actually it was just fitting.
"Let's start with something..." Tony suggested, bringing Steve back to the present, as he flicked the latter's fingers.
"Simple." Steve carefully interlaced their hands, a sheepish smile finding its way on his lips.
A smile that was mirrored on Tony's face, but his was wider, and Steve considered it another victory. Maybe they would've been alright, after all. He needed to put all his efforts into it, though.
"Do you trust me?" he knew it was a double-edged question, but needed to be asked.
“No.” that reply came too fast, like it’d been loaded and Tony just had been waiting to say it. “Make me again." he added after a bit, and that was enough for Steve, for now.
The latter gently tugged Tony closer to himself by their entwived hands, then stepped into a slow dance, like they had all the time in the world, like they hadn't been wasting it so far because of their pride, their obstinacy, their self-deceit. They let themselves be lulled by the music like nothing else mattered, Steve's free arm loosely circling Tony's middle as he brought their hands up, Tony outstretching his left hand to gingerly hold on Steve's respective shoulder.
"Steve."
All his attention was on Tony and Tony only.
"I’m sorry, too." the man confessed and Steve thought that it would've cost him more, that it would've taken longer for him to say anything of that level.
He was about to speak, but Tony placed his flesh index on his lips and Steve felt his face warm up under that brief contact. As if it was normal for them to casually touch like that, but it never was, not that way, not that intimate, it could've been though, if only...
Start again. They would've done better, from now on.
"I'm sorry for the things I’ve said and done, I was hurt.." he carried on without looking directly at Steve but just around him, as if he couldn't stare back at him right now. And somehow, Steve found himself understanding him once more.
"I know, I’m sorry for my behavior, too. We both made mistakes. We both lied, we both hid things from the team, from each other. We've both been wrong and right." and it was true, it wasn't just something to make Tony feel less guilty. They never really opened up to one other, either as colleagues and friends, thus putting everyone in danger by neglecting themselves.
“It's been years, but we never properly talked, not after… Ultron, not after our big internal quarrel,” at that Steve flinched, faltering a bit in his steps but swiftly recovered “And that wound never healed. That on my chest, did, but you left one… deeper, that festered everything, and I let it rot, blinded by the grief of- of losing you." that flow of words washed over Steve like a cold shower, leaving him shivering and weak. Like he was under water again. “And yet, despite how much it hurt, not even that could swipe away what I felt.” his gaze gradually returned on Steve's face and what the latter found bleeding through those endless molten tidepools left him shaken. “I didn't make it easy for you to come back." he then conceded in a puff of breath.
Steve was still mulling over what Tony just admitted not so subtly, his heartbeat picking up again, so it took him a while to respond to his last statement. "Tony, you're the one who came back after everything. You came back when there was the need to, when the world needed you. Like you always did." he couldn't hide his stupor from his tone, Tony shouldn't have apologized, at least not for that.
"Well, everyone needed me." he stated the obvious, while his hand gently tapped on Steve's shoulder following the rhythm of the song, their legs moving in unison. "But I didn't do it for the team or the world only." his voice dropped to a whisper as a grin showed on his face. "I can be selfish too, in my spare time as a philanthropist."
Steve arched an eyebrow at that. "You-?"
"Of course." Tony’s grin just widened, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Steve's like he was looking for something in them. "Like I said, I couldn't get rid of you." he reminded him, and maybe that very something he found after all, because that grin softened, terribly tender now.
Steve wanted to lean down and kiss him, but refrain from the thought.
"Tony..."
"You always loved saying my name, huh."
Steve scrunched up his nose in an annoyed grimace, that couldn't do much against the blush that spread across his face.
"We... I think we should talk." he pointed out, tapping his fingers still placed on Tony's middle in an attempt to smother his sudden agitation.
"Isn't that what we've been doing since you decided to interrupt my self-deprecating drink session earlier?" another grin flickered on Tony's lips, yet that one was teasing, unbearly familiar.
Despite his temporary irritation, Steve's mouth curled in a smile as he rolled his eyes. "I know, but... There's a big elephant in the room that we haven't... acknowledged yet." he clarified what he hinted to and the mere mention of it left his heart fluttering in his chest.
Tony's fingers tightened around his at that comment. "One big talk at a time, Rogers." he reprimanded him, but Steve could see and feel how tense he got suddenly. “We'll get there.” he then murmured, maybe more to himself than to Steve, but Steve gladly accepted it.
The latter nodded in agreement. He didn't like staying longer in that limbo, but he needed Tony to see he was actually trying. "I just wanted to know if..."
"...we're on the same page?" Tony finished that thought for him, a thought that he wasn't able to repress, because it’d been like a hitch he could never scratch, not until that moment. "Were we ever?"
"Tony..."
The man in question made a face, his eyebrows dramatically lifting to his hairline for a second as a sign to go on.
"I don't want to misread or assume. I've done it too many times with you and.." he let out a long sigh, before squeezing Tony's hand in his, still holding them up. "I don't want to fuck it up, this fragile truce, this shy beginning. And don't want to fall back into a delusional whirlwind either." such a confession shouldn't have brought a flush upon his cheeks, yet here he was. And that wasn't because he was embarrassed of his feelings, no, he'd come to terms with them a long time ago. That was because he was pouring his heart out for Tony and the man could easily smash it, like Steve did with his back in Siberia. It was the vulnerability that came by exposing himself, something he could never experience, because of his role, because of his line of work, because of what everyone expected from him.
He didn't want to step on that same olive branch that Tony extended again, he didn't want to crush it like he did in the past.
"Language, Cap." a smirk danced on his lips, that looked even redder under the soft, warm light of the lamps that scattered the roof.
When he saw that Steve was serious, he dropped the smirk altogether and stepped a little closer to him, now their chests brushed against each other at each movement they made while dancing. "We need to learn how to communicate better, you and I." he muttered, a playful glint in his eyes regardless of the unpleasant truth behind those words.
"I know couple counseling exists in this era." Steve countered, his tone shifting into taunting.
That made Tony laugh, genuinely laugh. Finally. Another little victory in Steve's pocket. He wanted to treasure that sound in the deepest part of his heart forever. He wanted to hear that sound again and again and again. He wanted to be the reason for that sound.
"You aren't... misreading anything, Steve." he assured him after such a poignant pause that had been making Steve rethink.
At once the lump in Steve's throat that formed during that incredibly hesitant amount of time, that lump dissolved upon hearing Tony’s confirmation and in a surge of bravery, he dared to lean a bit closer to Tony, who was watching him with such raw intensity. "Good." he just said.
Music switched in the background, another song started playing, quicker, not suitable for the calm rhythm they’d been keeping up so far, but that detail wouldn't have stopped them from continuing their slow dance, a great parallelism of their relationship. Circling around each other in an unhurried tempo while there was chaos and frenzy outside.
“Just to clerify…” Tony began, and Steve prompted him to go on with a tilt of his head. “I wasn't trying to get wasted, at the bar.” he said, turning a little bashful all of the sudden. “It was only my second drink.”
Steve nodded.
“Been trying to be better, since Morgan.” he kept talking, or more likely babbling. “Haven't touched alcohol at all in a long while.”
Steve softened at the mention of Tony's daughter. “Of course.” he nodded again as he started rubbing circles on his back. If Tony noticed, he didn't give any sign, he may have enjoyed it, even. “Then, why were you drinking at all?”
Tony pointedly looked at him.
“Oh. Right-” Steve didn't realize that maybe that'd been Tony's way to cope with… the mess they left unspoken for so long. "Sorry."
“Well, my old self would've been ashamed of me if he had seen me slurring only after two glasses.” Tony clicked his tongue, then pouted with a shake of head.
That comment made Steve chuckle despite the gravity of the subject.
“But I’m not making a habit out of it again. Tonight was just… rough.”
It'd been a year.
“Tony-”
“What have you been up to?” the man thankfully asked, lightening the mood, but Steve still felt the emotional whiplash throb in his chest.
He thought that the conversation awfully sounded like one two ex lovers who were trying to catch up with each other’s lives could have. And Tony must've thought the same, because the question was accompanied by a knowing grin.
“Uhm, I’m actually doing social services and giving a hand to some charities, still holding listening groups for survivors. Helping who's in need. Keeps me grounded.” Steve replied, feeling his neck heat up under Tony's keen scrutiny.
“Of course you are.” Tony spoke under his breath, then his hand on Steve's shoulder skimmed down to his pectoral, giving him a pat or two. Then he busied himself with straightening Steve's suede jacket lapel, staring at what he was doing instead of Steve.
From that point of view, the latter could relish in Tony's warm complexion, wondering if he'd spent time under Los Angeles’ sun. His freckles stood out more, there were a few new moles, too, like a constellation that Steve thought he'd known already, and yet here he was, discovering it again. He wanted to touch the lines under Tony's eyes, mapped them with his fingertips, feeling the veins below his dark circles, tracing the wrinkles between his eyebrows, at the sides of his nostrils.
“You’re beautiful.” words tumbled from his lips before he could even realize he had spoken at all, reverence colored his voice.
Tony blushed and Steve couldn't remember a single time he saw Tony blush. And now, his entire face quickly turned a lovely darker shade because of him, because of such a classic compliment.
“Stop it, I’m too old for this kind of flattery.” he swatted his left hand on Steve's bicep, yet ducked his head a bit to hide himself nonetheless.
“You always loved flattery.” Steve retorted, his fingers tightening around a piece of Tony's jacket on his back, to stop himself from reaching for one of his cheeks and making something undeniably fond like pinching it.
“Yes, still do, but-” Tony quickly bit his upper lip as he shied away from Steve's eyes for a moment. “It’s different when it comes from you.”
Steve took a sharp inhale at that confession. “Tony, I mean it.” he told him, his voice firm but honest.
“I know, that's why.” the blush only deepened as an amused chuckle shook his chest, and Steve felt it reverberating in his, cradling his beating heart. “But, one step at a time, remember?”
Steve nodded, but his head was swimming with thoughts, he felt dizzy.
They fell silent afterward, but it wasn't awkward. It was one of those comfortable silences, one of those moments where they were aligned, still moving like they’d been doing that since forever, still moving in that synchronized way they used to do on the field, in the heat of the battle.
Steve enjoyed every second of it.
Eventually, regretfully, they stopped dancing, and Steve already missed the sensation of Tony's chest against his, of their feet chasing each other. “What do you want to do now?” he narrowed his eyes, his entire focus on Tony, always on Tony.
“Scratch what I've said earlier, I need another drink.” Tony breathed out, the words ringing in a jittery giggle. “And maybe a pizza, yeah, pizza’s fine. And icecream.”
Steve let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. He knew what he would've signed for, yet he still mesmerized him, the way Tony could sound casual even when he was literally jumping out his skin. And the fact he was the one who was making Tony so nervous made his head spin. “Not what I meant-” he tried to reason instead.
“I know, I know. Jeez, Capsicle, relax.” Tony smoothed his hands on Steve's biceps, without looking at him. Steve thought that his chest must've been an easier target to deal with, easier than his eyes, that maybe now were too much open for Tony. Too much too early, at least.
“I'd like to… talk, as you suggested and I definitely agreed to. And to do that, we gotta meet up, face to face.” he was rubbing his palms on the same spots, undoubtedly to calm himself. Steve missed those strange, adorable antics of his, his fidgety hands, always in need of something to do, to touch. “I'm gonna stay here for a week, or maybe more, before going back to LA, so…” he left the proposition hanging, waiting for Steve to catch up with it.
And the latter did. His mouth curved in a tiny, hopeful smile. “We can hang out, whatever you want Tony.”
Tony nodded vehemently, then emitted a disapproving sound. “Jesus, why Manhattan of all places?!” he stomped one foot on the ground, pouting again, in that childish way Steve couldn't resist.
Steve bursted out laughing, a familiar warmth unfurling in his whole body. “Guess I’m also a melancholic soul.” mirth tinted his tone, veiled his eyes as he peered down at Tony.
“Or a masochist.” the man was picking at Steve's shirt just to be a nuisance, while a smirk threatened to split his face in two.
“That checks you off, too.”
“Can't deny it.” Tony’s hands stopped their frantic motions, but still lingered on his biceps.
“That’ll be ugly. And tough.” Tony went on, his features turning somber as well as his tone.
"Nothing we aren't used to. To get to the downhill, the easier part, first you gotta climb the mountain.” Steve thought he would've felt more scared by saying those things, but he was glad he'd been mistaken. “And… you're worth the journey.“
Tony’s eyes snapped to meet his again, and Steve felt breathless suddenly.
“Sorry if I realized it too late.”
“Not… too late.” Tony wrapped his arms around his neck as he said that, standing a little on his tiptoes, and Steve tensed, his heart leaping to his throat.
“Tony… don't do something you're gonna regret tomorrow morning.” he reminded him in a plea, frozen on the spot. He didn't want to fuck it up. Too soon. He wanted Tony for longer, he needed more time. As long as he would keep him. Forever, if he wished. God, Steve hoped so.
“I’m just doing… simple.” Tony said, his lips getting dangerously closer to Steve's, his eyelids fluttering close for a moment, his gaze focused on Steve's mouth. “Follow my lead.” he looked up at him one last time, and when amber clashed against ocean green, all coherent thoughts and restraint left Steve.
He always loved Tony's eyes and could never defy them.
Their lips finally brushed against each other and it was a feeble contact, almost too shy for the intensity of the feelings that threatened to burst in Steve's chest. But when it happened, everything in Steve, between them, clicked into place, as if that was how it should've always meant to be. His hands, still at his sides since they stopped dancing, longed to touch, but he wouldn't overstepped. He would've waited, he would've followed Tony.
As if Tony read his mind, he took them in his and placed them just above his hips, before rearranging his position around Steve's neck.
“Can I-?” Steve spoke against his mouth, that half formed request coming out ragged.
“Please, do.” Tony replied, lips brushing, his eyes staring, begging, his voice sounded wrecked already.
Steve slid his arms around Tony's waist, then gave him a gentle squeeze. That gesture pulled Tony against him again, and so they kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Like two starving men, two starving hearts, their mouths meeting and meeting again, in a paced glide of flesh and breaths and tears and yearning and pain and passion and bitterness and possessiveness and hunger and sorrow and belonging and guilt. Pouring everything and beyond into those heated caresses.
They kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until their lips became numb. Until the only noises Steve could hear were Tony's quivering exhales, his stifled moans, the whines he tried to choke at the back of his throat. Steve drank all of them up, savoring them, joining them with his own, and when Tony opened for him, he let their tongues meet, probing, sliding against each other, seeking. And the noises just intensified.
Tony's hands ran through the hair of his nape, then gripped at it, like a desperate drowning man would've done to an anchor, like Steve was his anchor. But also, like Steve was a relentless current in which he would've lost himself if he hadn't been careful. And that sensation left Steve shudder.
Steve's hands wandered in the valley of Tony's back, from his shoulders to his arse, passing through his spine, memorizing every curve and every plain, craving to feel skin and not cloth under his fingers.
At some point, those lingering, feverish contacts drifted into something languid but calmer, then into soft, wet pecks on lips, on chins, on cheeks, before the two ended up staring at each other, up close. Their arms still held each other like they were both afraid of letting go.
“May I have another dance?” Steve whispered hoarsely once the fervor of their bodies had waned completely, leaving only a sense of contentment and ease in its wake.
A moment of stillness, Steve’s heart seizing up in waiting.
Then, instead of replying with words, Tony took his hand, intertwined them together, smiling widely, his flushed face lighting up, and just like that, they resumed their slow, neverending tempo.
Another song, another round.
The difference was, that now Tony allowed himself to rest his head on Steve's shoulder, the tip of his nose tickling Steve's neck as they moved, hushed sweet nothings grazed Steve’s skin, eliciting shivers, eliciting newly disclosed desires.
Another song, another round.
Music and lyrics and notes and steps and rustling of clothes, all mixing together, making them lose track of time itself. They kept dancing until their limbs grew tired, until the lights around them turned off. And Steve never felt happier and freer in his life.
They would've been alright, he was sure of it.