Steve Rogers fell in love the first time he saw Tony Stark fly, iron clad in a suit made of the future. He fell in love again the first time he saw Tony exhausted and dirty and beaten back to the soft parts of him, walls all broken down by the long day behind them.
What they had, for years, felt real. The domesticity, the fiery passion. The fighting back to back and saving each other’s lives. The lavish anniversaries and expensive trips.
But Tony Stark was an alcoholic. Always would be.
He was also addicted to his work.
And media attention.
Basically anything other than Steve. That was fine. They were like the moon and the sun, as one rose the other would set. Something felt poetic about their partnership; something about darkness, and light, night and day. He told himself that they met so he could guide Tony on the right path; if he could only get him to stop playing Devil's Advocate.
The reality was a little less romantic. Some days they would only see each other for five minutes. Most mornings he woke up in their bed, Tony wasn’t there. Off on a bender, can’t leave the lab. Whatever. It hurt Steve in a way he wasn’t willing to admit. In the soft, romantic part of his heart that yearned for the rosy pinks and grassy greens that filled the illustrations he’d poured over as a sickly, wishful kid in Brooklyn.
By the end of their relationship, he wanted so badly to believe that opposites could attract, tried so hard to convince himself that disagreements fostered growth, that the brightest morning comes after the darkest night- he crushed what little they had left.
He destroyed a lot of things.
He doesn't regret it- knows Tony would never understand. Iron Man can get out of the suit whenever he wants. Legislating someone based on who they are, their body...Steve had seen the mud at the end of that slippery slope. The Accords had to go, and with it, what was left of them. So, he doesn’t regret it, but, he still wishes it could have worked out differently. It takes every ounce of him not to think of the way they left each other, Tony’s heart torn out by his own hand. He had been cruel, in that moment, and the cruel part of him thinks Tony earned it.
When he found Bucky, he found his own heart again- he hadn’t been right within himself in a long time.
Dr.Erskine had done the right thing, choosing the man who was well balanced in losing, and getting back up to try again. Choosing the little guy. Now, he’d been a big guy for a long, long time. Both physically, and materialistically. He had too much authority over others, something he never wanted. Seeing Bucky made him feel small again. Made him feel like himself. So he gave his entire life, every waking moment, to the mission of finding him, getting him back. It was the best he had felt in years and he could have pursued him happily for the rest of his life.
Then he actually found him, brought him home, and realized how different it would be. His own life wasn’t the only thing that had been torn asunder.
They spent every minute together, at first, just like the old days. Looking at Bucky’s face felt like going home; he still saw the best friend he knew all those years ago. However, that wasn't necessarily true. Lots had- shifted. He wasn't always there, behind his own eyes. He didn't want to be the person from back then, not for Steve, not for anyone. He would laugh at things Steve found disturbing, and he was even less of a romantic than Tony. He was darkened and bloodied and it didn’t matter how much Steve smoothed his corners down, the stains still remained. It wasn't all doom and gloom, walking on eggshells, but Steve selfishly thinks that he wouldn't have to deal with so many Bad Days if they weren’t- he hardly lets himself finish.
This is something he should have prepared himself for, having torn apart half the planet for the man, he should have prepared himself for better or worse. Bucky’s “worse” is something he has no experience with. It had been easy to convince himself he could handle it- boy was he wrong. It’s the worst “worse” he’d ever known.
There was no measure to the suffering Bucky had endured. Every day there was something new that got plumbed up from the depths, that got in the way of their life in the present. Something that hurt him as though it were still happening right here. Things Steve couldn’t say, movements he could never make quickly. Steve loves him, he does, so much, deep down to his bones and his soul and his old self that he used to be, the old selves they both used to be, but love just isn’t enough.
When he gets the chance to go back in time, there's never a question in his mind that he's going to do right by her after all. This era is too complicated for him, and he's made too many mistakes. He doesn't feel like a coward, but he knows bowing out now will prevent future misunderstandings, future mistakes. He can see that Bucky is gravitating to other people, people who don't expect so much of the past from him. Steve knows he'll be in good hands. That's what he tells himself, but all he can think of is Peggy. Her voice, her face. That single dance they promised but never shared. He craves for more- has only got one single bit and hungers, hungers, hungers for the life that passed them by. The only life he ever really, truly wanted.
She doesn’t understand at first, when his present self turns up at her door in the past, a bouquet of flowers in hand.
He tells her he’s a soldier who had worked closely with Captain America, and that the man had spoken of her often, missing her dearly and wishing it would all be over so they could have time. He was real sorry the Captain went missing, could he keep her company until he came back?
Whisked away, she doesn’t question it for a while. Doesn’t question how similar he looks, sounds, and acts. The romantic gestures that would take a lifetime to plan. The way he’s completely enamored with her, grinning like he’d died, came back, and got another chance to appreciate it all.
Until she does. One day, she looks into his big blue eyes and smiles.
“You’re Steve Rogers, aren’t you?” He tries to brush her off, blushing and scratching the back of his head like a Goddamn Norman Rockwell. She’s sharp as a tack and doesn’t let it slide. That’s the day they really fall in love with each other.
For upwards of half a century, the world lives without the official presence of Captain America. Everything is fine. He feels guilty, at times, when he realizes how many things he could fix. He could crush Hydra in its infancy, save Bucky before any real damage has been done, go defrost himself- any number of things.
Then he looks through the glass at the hospital, and sees his and Peggy’s baby all bundled up, waiting to be taken home. Peggy holds his hand.
He couldn’t care less about the rest of the world.