His hair is graying around the sides and he refuses to dye it, much to Steve’s delight. The gray looks distinguished, he thinks; Tony says he’s too old to be dolling himself up like a painted whore.
He listens to his music louder than ever, as he’s been slowly going deaf over the past few years. He’d never admit it of course, stating that AC/DC just isn’t meant to be listened to at ‘normal’ levels. Steve just smiles, nods, and turns down the music at small intervals whenever he can get close enough.
He’s supposed to wear bifocals, but he rarely does without Steve harping on him. When asked, the reply is usually something along the lines “Bitch, I’m Tony Stark! I do what I want!”
And then Steve pulls out his saddest puppy face that still works after all these years. Tony walks off to find his glasses, muttering the whole way.
They’ve been together for almost sixty years and married for most of it. It was a rocky start, to be honest (no one in their right mind would say otherwise, except Clint, who could be a sarcastic dick like that), and there were some rough spots throughout, but they always made it through. It wasn’t the happily ever after Steve imagined when he was younger, but he now finds himself unable to imagine anything but.
They started taking Sunday morning walks in Central Park shortly after they were married. It was something simple, a quick breather from being Avengers, super soldiers and genius-billionaire-philanthropists. In the early days, Steve would have to force Tony to slow down, to relax, to enjoy the world around him. Tony would whine, tug on Steve’s hand and try to get him to speed up so they could get to where they were going.
Steve now finds himself having to slow down.
They walk arm in arm now, rather than hand in hand as they used to. Steve listens to his husband rattle on about ‘new technology’ (“New my Iron Ass! I came up with that when I was twelve, but nooo, the world wasn’t ready for it yet!”), while keeping his eyes open for anything that could cause Tony to stumble, for anyone that could try to attack when they weren’t ready…
On that last Sunday, Steve couldn’t help notice the two men walking towards him; a tall blonde holding the hand of a shorter brunette who was leaning against his shoulder, blathering on about the latest StarkPhone and how the technology should have been available sooner…
It was like looking into the past, and it made Steve’s heart ache.
“You still with me, Cap?” he heard Tony ask. His voice is old, crackly… tired.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Steve replied, choking back the sob he feels forming.
Anthony Edward “Tony” Stark is buried on his one hundredth birthday.
“Captain America” Steven Rogers is buried a week later, dying from something not even a serum could be designed to prevent.
A broken heart.