The Gentleness of Home
Day 321
It’s Tony’s birthday today. He doesn’t expect much and it’s a deeply carved childhood habit to not care too much about the day. Perhaps three months ago, he would have looked a little bit forward to today, when Steve had cheered gleefully after he managed to wheedle the real date from JARVIS.
Before Steve, only three living people knew the closely guarded secret, and Peggy, Rhodey and Pepper know well enough that all Tony wants and needs is the comfort of their presence. Somehow, Natasha knows too, now, although Tony never gave her a hint that his Wikipedia birthday was most definitely not the day he’d first kicked and screamed and brought misery to Howard’s world. She had shown up at Tony’s door early in the morning with a blueberry muffin and a quick peck at Tony’s cheek before disappearing and ordering Tony to enjoy his day off.
Today is a Sunday, which fortunately gives Rhodey and Pepper the time to fly in to New York for a dinner, and Tony had hoped that Steve would be willing to let him trade his usual full Saturday with Peter for a half-day Sunday. Peter doesn’t know the significance of the day, but Tony wanted to for once spend his birthday doing something that made him truly and wholly happy.
Steve had frowned and asked, “Why? Are you busy on Saturday? I think he wants to go somewhere on Sunday.”
Tony had hurriedly said ‘no’ because all those months ago Steve had made a special alert for the date, and it hurt to be reminded that Steve had so completely erased Tony’s presence from his life that he would forget.
With how much effort and care Steve had put in trying to rebuild their friendship, some part of Tony held a hope that if all else failed, they could still be close enough friends for Steve to be added to Tony’s little family. Maybe, he’d invite Steve next year.
Instead of moping and puttering uselessly around the apartment, Tony lets himself bask in the shower, letting the hot water scald his skin until it flushes red, scrubbing away the oil and grime and fatigue from a long, tiring week. He’ll treat himself to the greasiest cheeseburgers in town for lunch, and then perhaps a massage.
JARVIS informs Tony that it’s 11:19 when he exits the bathroom with his boxers, and he digs around his closet to find a pair of jeans, pulling them on before rummaging again for a shirt.
He stiffens when he pulls out a large worn t-shirt, white and plain and achingly familiar. Tony will vehemently take this to his grave, forcing JARVIS to delete all record of it, but he spends a minute just holding it to his chest, pressing the cotton fabric to his cheek for a moment before taking a deep breath. Steve had left it here two or three months ago, and Tony had victoriously hidden it from him, and it still had the lingering remnants of Steve’s cologne on it.
After allowing himself just that one short moment of weakness, Tony snaps himself back to the present and lays the shirt out on his bed, carefully folding it up. He makes his way into the kitchen and manages to fish out a good quality plastic bag, tucking the folded shirt inside before coming back to his room.
He’s not quite hungry yet, and as Tony scans his cluttered bedroom, he finds several bits and pieces scattered around that belong to Steve, and he might as well return them. This isn’t how Tony planned to spend today, but he supposes that he could try that new year in life bullshit and try to move on with his life. It’s evident that whatever friendship Steve is working towards with Tony, Steve doesn’t hold any desire to go back to how they used to be – not after Tony’s been faced to confront how thoroughly Steve cast Tony out of his life.
Maybe Steve is only working on a closer friendship for Peter’s sake, and Tony understands that. He just never thought it would hurt this much, realising the extent of what he’s lost. Now that he’s been given the time to recover from his hurt – Steve’s effort and thoughtfulness serving as a healing balm – Tony realises he wants to try again, this time trying perhaps for something truer, deeper, without too much hiding and more talking and learning from the past instead of shoving it away.
And yet, maybe this is the catharsis he needs, Tony thinks as he takes out the dark blue tie left in his sock drawer. He reaches into the next drawer, where he takes out the physics textbook Steve bought to read while Tony and Peter tinkered. Gently, Tony slides it in the bag next to the shirt. He picks up stray color pencils and collects the two sketchbooks Steve had forgotten, using all his strength of will not to open them. Tony doesn’t want to do that to himself, not today.
Then, he moves to the bathroom, where Steve’s toothbrush still stands beside his in a tall glass, and there’s the bottle of shampoo Tony had insisted on buying especially for Steve. Tony doesn’t suppose Steve will want it, and wonders distantly what he’ll do with the two extra bottles he’d bought with it.
Abandoning the bathroom, Tony grabs the bag from its place on his bed and brings it over to the guest bedroom, which had become Peter’s room for whenever he wants or needs it. He won’t ask Peter to give it back to Steve, but it will make it easier for Tony to remember to do so when Steve drops Peter off next weekend.
When that’s all done, Tony realises he still isn’t wearing a shirt, and grabs a random shirt, slipping it on before moving on to pick one of his sunglasses to wear outside, humming softly to himself.
He had meant what he’d tried to tell Peter: Tony is content with what he has. He might want more, but he’s happy enough with what he has. He’s had a second chance with love and romance, and while he doesn’t think he’ll get a third chance, doing it all a second time has taught Tony to forgive himself too – to care for himself too, even if he won’t ever love himself, he’s learned that he should at least care.
And Peter. His brilliant little boy is growing up exactly as Tony had hoped he would get to, with a loving family – an amazing father who would go to the ends of the earth for him, and a slew of honorary aunts and uncles watching over him.
Tony had never imagined he’d be able to see his son, much less be involved in his life, and it’s amazing to be able to. It makes Tony far more than content.
He’s just put on a watch to go with the red tinted sunglasses he’d chosen when the doorbell rings. He really doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now except for his family, and he knows that it’s impossible for whoever it is to be one of them, so he dawdles and goes to pat DUM-E.
The bot is chirping happily with its dunce cap perched on its head as it zooms around with a camera in its claw, JARVIS having apparently informed it what the significance of today is. But the ringing doesn’t stop, and Tony wonders how long he’ll have to pretend that no one is home for whoever is pestering him to leave and go bother someone else instead and Tony can go celebrate with himself and some beef patties.
After about a minute, the ringing is accompanied by loud knocking, and he realises he isn’t going to get any peace until he gets rid of whoever is at the door. He gives DUM-E’s camera one last wave before he pads to the door, sunglasses perched firmly on his nose and a glare ready to scare the shit out of whoever is making such a ruckus.
He turns the lock and pulls the door open, tightening his grip around the door handle as he sees who’s standing right in front of him.
It’s Steve.
He’s all dressed up, in a fancy suit with a tie and everything, clean shaven and shoes polished, with a bunch of flowers held up in front of him, and Tony has half a mind to slam the door and open it again just to try see if what his eyes see will change.
And behind Steve is Peter, whose hair is also combed back neatly despite wearing thankfully normal clothes.
Steve clears his throat, shuffling uncomfortably, and Tony’s mind is working overtime to figure out what he’s doing here dressed to the nines like this. Steve doesn’t have an important meeting to get to – JARVIS has checked Steve’s schedule before Tony had asked permission to spend today with Peter – and the flowers?
Oh, Tony thinks, strings connecting rapidly. Steve must be going on a date, and is going to ask Tony to take care of Peter because, after all, Tony had said he’s free today, right?
As much as Tony had wanted to spend today with Peter, he doesn’t think he’s in the right mind to take care of a child, especially not now. He didn’t think Steve could be so cruel or uncaring, but apparently he is and Tony is torn between yelling at him and punching him and slamming the door so he can change his plans to moping over a box of Chinese noodles.
He can’t though, not when there’s a kid watching, so instead he asks tiredly, grateful for the glasses masking his eyes because he really can’t find the strength to hide the mess of feelings in him, “hey Peter. What do you want, Steve?”
Steve’s eyes widen at the crack in Tony’s voice, while Peter tugs angrily at Steve’s suit, mouthing something at his dad that Tony’s can’t quite figure out over the dread building up in him.
And then Steve starts speaking and Tony’s really beginning to think he’s stuck in an ugly dream because Steve is stuttering, “I, uh, Peggy said you’d be free for lunch and gave me a long lecture – that’s not important, I wanted to ask – do you want – would you like to – ”
“Do you want to go out with my dad?” Peter blurts out, and both Tony and Steve turn wide, shocked eyes at the little boy who raises his hands defensively, “I thought you needed help! You’re so slow we need to get to the reservation.”
“What reservation?” Tony clings to that last sentence because it’s the only thing that makes the smallest bit of sense.
Steve looks as panicked as Tony is, and he thrusts the flowers at Tony’s chest, the scent of roses and lilies and daisies overwhelming, and blurts out, “for you. These are for you.”
Mechanically, Tony takes the flowers, gaping at Steve, “what do you think you’re doing?”
There’s a red flush all over Steve’s cheeks and neck now, and he cautiously takes Tony’s free hand in both of his own, the warmth and roughness familiar enough to help ground Tony as Steve at last explains in a ramble, “I’m sorry to spring this on you like this, but I asked Peggy for her blessing, and she told me I should take you out today for lunch – she recommended cheeseburgers or Italian so I made reservations at that place you kept talking about but we never got the chance to go – and I was hoping that you’d maybe give me a second chance?”
Tony’s still staring blankly at Steve, and the small smile on Steve’s face turns both braver and sadder all at once, as if bracing for the worst but needing to try one last time, “Tony Stark, you are the kindest, craziest, strongest man I’ve ever met – and the smartest, too,” he adds with a soft laugh, tightening his hold on Tony’s hand and looking right past the red shades into Tony’s eyes, “I am so, so sorry I was too blind and conceited to do right by you, and if you let me try to do better this time, I will never take you for granted ever again and even if I can’t promise not to hurt you, I can promise to listen to you and to not let my fears and anger blind me from the most important parts of my life.”
One hand still clasping Tony’s hand, Steve reaches out with his other hand to cup Tony’s cheek, gentle and safe, and Tony leans into it, throat to tight to speak.
“I’m selfish,” Steve admits, “I should be so, so grateful to have you just as a friend, but I’m also greedy and I don’t think I could ever have enough of you, because god, Tony, you’re amazing and you give me hope and you’re such a wonderfully good man, and frankly, Peter is ready to murder me if I didn’t at least try to ask you, and we’ll understand if you say no, but I had to try, and... and I’m sorry. You don’t want to. I’ll go. We’ll go.”
Steve is pulling away and that finally clicks a switch that allows Tony to move, shaking his head and holding tight to Steve’s hand in his. He lets the flowers drop to the floor and a sob escapes past his lips.
He’s crying now, but how could he not after that speech? And then he pulls at Steve, wrapping his arms around him, the muscles of Steve’s back tense as Steve returns the hug and Tony lets himself lean his shaking body onto Steve.
“Don’t go,” Tony mumbles, and distantly he can hear Peter cheer and wrap his small arms around their waists.
“Please don’t cry,” Steve tells Tony, the panic back in his voice but body relaxing as he holds Tony firmly against him, rubbing soothing circles into Tony’s shoulder. “I won’t leave if you don’t want me to.”
“No, we have to leave or we’ll be late,” Peter reminds them, but the boy also makes no move to let go.
“Stay,” Tony orders Steve, “I hate you, you idiot.”
There’s no venom in the words, only a fondness that slips freely from Tony, and Steve nods, chin bumping gently against the top of Tony’s head and Tony can feel the happiness radiating from Steve’s very core.
“Your idiot,” Steve agrees quickly, the laughter rumbling in his chest.
Wrapped in their arms, Tony thinks that he might have been too quick to judge his birthday. This, after all, feels like a new beginning that Tony can’t wait to explore.
Well, he can wait for a little longer here, Tony supposes, relishing the warmth of Steve’s affection and Peter’s joy and wishing to stay forever.