It’s not meant to be this upsetting.
Steve knows he doesn’t get to be upset about this. He tends to wait too long, not ask for what he wants even when he wants it so badly it crushes him.
Wanting Tony isn’t like he’s wanted anything else. Tony’s kind, and warm, and also so fucking weird, makes dumb jokes and drinks too much coffee and sleeps on a couch in his workshop instead of his expensive lush bed. He’s just, a reminder of all the good things the world still has to offer.
He’s also beautiful, brown eyes and permanently messy hair, the prettiest smile and gorgeous. Every time Steve sees him he wants to sketch him, put pencil to paper so he has some proof something like him existed in front of him. And crazy enough, Tony wants him back.
They’ve never said it aloud, and Steve does tend to be oblivious, but not about this. He sees the way Tony’s gaze lingers (Steve loves it when he looks, even if it’s almost too warm, even if it makes him feel like the only man in the universe). He sees the way Tony looks at him like he wants to reach out, but he’s waiting for Steve. He’s willing to wait.
Except- he’s not.
Some magazine, they’d taken a photo of Tony, and he’s- he’s wearing a ring.
And Steve- he hadn’t known he was seeing someone, but Stephen Strange had been around more often, and Tony likes smart people, always liked people who could quip back to him, who could keep his attention.
And Steve- he feels so fucking dumb, sitting here, waiting for Tony to come back to his workshop so he could sketch him. It’s so stupid, but Steve loves Tony’s company, feels safe and calm when he’s around, and the tingle of something potential, the soft sweetness of wondering how his hands would map out on him, if the specificity of his work would translate to Steve.
But he’d missed his shot, again. Waited too long, and now- Tony’s going to marry someone else, going to start a new life with someone, and it hurts, because Tony always seemed like he was just waiting for Steve to open up his arms and welcome him home.
God. Maybe Tony had never wanted him in the first place. Awful presumptuous to think that Tony Stark, Iron Man, would want a kid from Brooklyn who no one had ever wanted to dance with him.
Tony comes into the workshop as Steve’s reading the article on his phone, and Tony- he’s grinning, that spitfire smile, the one he has before he says I have an idea or we’re watching Star Wars!
Steve loves that smile, how vibrant and bright Tony always is, and now- he knows someone else put it there, that he’s here to tell his best friend Steve about the lucky fella he’s marrying. It’s crazy because Steve loves that he means something that special to Tony, but he wants more, wants to see a ring on his finger and know he put it there. He wants to know what Tony feels like, wrapped up in his arms, how he sounds in the morning when the sun is rising and he’s only awake so he can cuddle him.
These aren’t things he can have, though, so Steve aches, and smiles.
“Congratulations,” And Tony’s brow furrows adorably, which is just gratuitous of the world to do to him right now, I mean, come on, “You two make a wonderful couple.”
“Who?”
Steve shows him the article, wordlessly/. Maybe they didn’t know the photo was leaked.
If Steve was with him, he’d never hide it. He’d show people how lucky he was to have Tony, kiss him and wouldn’t care if people were looking.
“This is mirrored,” Tony laughs, handing the phone back, and putting his stuff down, still got that excited grin on his face.
“Mirrored?”
“Pepper got me a ring as a present for our 15th year working together. It’s on my right hand, but the tabloids must have flipped the image. You know how they are. You thought I was engaged?”
Tony smiles at him like it’s silly, but alll Steve can feel is hope.
“Steve? You okay?”
“You aren’t marrying Strange?”
“Strange? He and I- No, Steve. I’m- I’m interested in someone else.” And Tony’s an open book, written in golden ink in a language Steve was born to read, and he can see it plain as day that it’s him. Whiskey brown eyes wanting nothing but acceptance.
All those lingering touches, the warmth of Tony’s smile, the way Tony looked at him, like there was nothing in the world Steve could do to make him not love him. It’s all there, it never left. He wasn’t too late.
And tonight, they were going to watch a movie together, and Tony might lean on him, and an hour ago that would’v sounded like bliss. Because almost isn’t enough anymore.
Steve’s not used to this, only ever been in love one other time, and he just wants. Tony’s an enigma, bright and gorgeous and kind, and Steve’s allowed into his inner space, allowed to be close to where he makes his miracles.
Steve steps closer, and suddenly they’re a hair's breadth apart, but tony’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s just like that in the field, determination and focus, center of view like the earth.
“You aren’t seeing anyone?”
“Hoping to be.” Tony smiles, and his eyes crinkle by the sides, and he wants to kiss his eyelids, hold him by the curve of his waist, and now he loves him.
The curve of Tony’s mouth curls up, and he’s patient with him. How many times had Tony waited on him, been patient with his heart and loved him, waited for him to ask because the world was so rarely patient with anything these days.
It’s so Tony, to think if he can’t slow the world down, he can at least wait for Steve to catch up to his heart.
It’s slow, when Steve kisses him, warm and gentle, almost like a record player played at half speed, like smooth vinyl of an old love song. Tony tastes like coffee and something he can’t pin, and Steve feels his smile.
“You sure you’re not seeing anyone?” Steve says, once he pulls away. He’s not out of breath but Tony is, and he feels that pride, of knowing he was the one who did that.
He’s not great at love, at this sort of thing, and maybe if they were in a dark bar in 1940, Tony wouldn’t have said yes. But Tony’s here, bright as a star, his light brightening everything in Steve’s orbit.
“I think that’s up to you-“
“You are, then.”
Tony laughs, and when he kisses Steve again, Steve feels the ring against his cheek, and he almost feels grateful.