do you still love me?

A shrill, unfamiliar sound cut through the air. Steve, being half asleep on the couch in front of the quiet, dim television, took a moment to register it. He pushed himself up, his body still aching. Three weeks had passed since the fight in Siberia and he was still limping, still dreaming about the fear in Tony’s eyes when his mask came off, wishing he hadn’t been the one to make Tony feel that way. He was supposed to be on the other side, right? Fighting for Tony, not against him. But Bucky means the world to him. He is the only tangible connection Steve has to his past. Tony knew this and fought him anyway. How was Steve supposed to feel about that?

Steve rushed around the apartment searching for the source of the ringing and the closer he got to his bedside table, the closer he came to realizing where the sound was coming from. It was the burner phone.

In all his years of fighting, confrontation and stress, Steve had never felt as afraid as he did in that moment. His body began to tremble and his hands shook as he dug the phone up from beneath scattered papers and unread books, not hesitating for a moment and flipping it open quicker than he could check who was calling. He knew. There was no one else it could be.

“Tony?” Steve said, his voice trembling, adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was a deep breath on the other end of the call, a deep, shaky breath.

“Steve.” His voice was low. He sounded tired.

“Tony, are you okay? Is everything okay? Are you-”
“Steve. Steven Rogers, Captain Rogers, Captain fucking America.” Tony was angry, that much was certain, but what was more worrying was that he was slurring his words.
“Tony...are you-are you drunk?” Steve asked, his stomach dropping. Tony began to laugh. “Tony.” Tony was in hysterics now, his laughter full of venom and anger. “Tony. Are you drunk?” Steve urged Tony to answer, his hand on his head begging Tony to take this seriously.

The laughter stopped.

“Drunk. Affected by alcohol to the extent of losing control of one's faculties or behaviour. Yeah. Yeah I’m fucking drunk. Would I call you sober? I mean, God, would I even look at you sober? Probably not. You’re disgusting.” Tony spat. His words cut through Steve and stung far more than any punch Tony had ever landed on him. “I mean, I gave my everything to you. Literally, everything. All of me. Everything I have, everything I am, I shared with you. And you pull this shit on me? You lied. You lied! You’re a fucking liar! You knew Barnes killed my parents. You’d known for years. You kept it from me. And for what? So you could leave me for him when he came back? You kept secrets from me, you didn’t share with me you weren’t there for me. Not when I needed it.” He sounded like he was crying now, but so was Steve, so he couldn’t truly tell. “You never committed to this, to us, because you were waiting for something better to come along. I should’ve known, should’ve known I wasn’t good enough for you to love me, but God I think I just wished so hard that I was, that I started to believe it.” He was laughing again. Steve felt like the floor was being ripped from beneath him. “I started to believe that you loved me, that you wanted me, that you needed me. The way I needed you. But you didn’t. Ever. Isn’t that just fucking hysterical?”

“Tony, please stop. That isn’t true, I-”
“Don’t bullshit me Rogers. You never loved me, did you?”
“Tony, of course I did. You are everything to me and-”
“Are? Are?! Is that why you damn near killed me not one month ago?!”
“Tony, you know what Bucky means to me. And you know he didn’t know what he was doing when he did it. I stopped you because I knew you’d regret what you did if you did it and-”
“Don’t you fucking dare talk to me about regret. You want to know what I regret you want to know what I fucking REGRET?! You. I regret you. This. Us. I wish I never met you, Steve, I really do. For the longest time, I thought I’d never find someone who loved me truly, completely, all of me, everything I had. I thought I had found that in you. I really did.”
“Tony, you did. I felt that.”
“No, you didn’t. Because you don’t hurt the people you love. Maybe I was just good for you, for your ego, for your loneliness. But that isn’t love.” Steve dropped to the floor and threw his head into his hands. He was sobbing now, no strong façade, no pretending he was okay. He was sobbing and the love of his life was listening.
“Tony, please. Please stop. I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you, I thought it was for the best. I really did. I see now that I was wrong but, at the time, I thought it was the only thing I could do.” Steve tried desperately to compose himself. He knew that if he didn’t, he’d fall apart.
“You know what I regret the most?”
“Tony. Did you hear what I just said?”
“Listen to me. You want to know what I regret the absolute most? What I hate myself for? The way that I don’t hate you. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I say I do but I don’t.” Tony started to cry now, his words slurring into one another. “I don’t hate you. I don’t regret us. I just want you to feel the hurt I felt. The hurt I feel, right here, right now. I wish I was with you, I wish I could push you and hit you and kiss you and just fucking love you. I need you, Steve.”
“Tony, you’re drunk. You clearly don’t know what you’re saying, and-”
“Oh, here he fucking goes, Mr High And Fucking Mighty. I’m drunk because of you. I broke seven years of sobriety because of you.”
“Tony, please. Are you alone? Are you at home?”
“Like you fucking care.”
“Tony, of course I care.”
“Whatever, Steve. If you cared, you wouldn’t have done what you did. If you cared, you wouldn’t have chosen him. If you cared...if you cared, we’d still be together.” Tony’s voice broke right there. As much as he tried to hide it, Steve could hear him crying. “I need you, Steve. God, I’m so angry, and I’m shouting and I’m insulting you and I’m telling you I regret this, but...I need you. I need you so bad.” He cried.

Steve had nothing to say. He wanted Tony too, but he was far too stubborn, far too headstrong to admit it. He had no way to reply, so he just cried. They cried together.

“What do you say, huh?” Tony took a deep, shaky breath. “One more try. We put our all into it and if it fucks up again, we know we gave it our best shot. No wondering, no regrets.” He whispered, his voice desperate and broken.
“I don’t want to hurt you again. And I worry that what you’re saying now, you’ll regret in the morning. When you’re sober.” It took everything Steve had not to say yes. To throw caution to the wind, to feel the fear and say fuck it and do it anyway. Because he never wanted to feel the heartbreak of the past few weeks again.
“This isn’t Avengers business, Steve. It can just be you and me. No one else, nothing else. Just us. No one else needs to know.” Tony whispered, followed by an almost inaudible “please.”
“Can we talk about it in the morning? Don’t fight me on this – of course we can have this conversation, but I don’t want this decision to be made on the phone and when you’re in this state.”
“Do you still love me?”
“Tony. Tomorrow.” Steve insisted, pulling on fists of his own hair to stop himself from completely breaking down.
“Tomorrow...goodnight.” Tony hung up the phone before Steve could say another word.

Steve dropped the phone and ran to his balcony door, almost removing it from its hinges as he forced it open and threw himself at the railing. The impact and the minus twenty wind-chill knocked the air from his lungs and forced him to gasp for breath through the tears. He thought back on his life of love and loss, how he wished he could just not feel these things because life would be simpler without them. But how good the highs were. The nights when they went to bed early but caught no sleep. The overwhelming love he felt in the morning waking up next to Tony. Attending briefings together where Tony would fall asleep on his shoulder.

He spent an hour on the balcony, his head in his hands, shivering, crying, longing. Thinking on what had been, what could be. When he found the strength in himself to turn around and go bad inside, suddenly the Manhattan wind-chill and running into a railing knocking the air out of his lungs wasn’t his biggest problem.

His front door was wide open.

And Tony was standing in the entryway.

“I’m not fucking waiting until tomorrow.” He said. His face was red and his cheeks were puffy – he’d clearly been crying, but it wasn’t until they were face to face that Steve could see just how drunk he was. His hands were shaking and he seemed to be fighting to keep his balance. “I love you. You are everything. Literally everything. If I have you, I need nothing more. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said tonight, everything I’ve called you. I don’t mean any of it. Other than that I love you. God, I love you. You’re the sun, you’re autumn leaves, you’re a southerly wind on a day that’s too fucking hot.” Tony cried and moved closer to Steve.
“Tony, I-”
“Just give me a second to say me peace, will you?” Tony ran his shaking hands through his short hair, seemingly trying to compose himself. “Here it is. In the last three weeks, I rebounded. I thought I could just go back to my old ways, erase you with others. But I couldn’t. I’d cry and leave before my second drink. I can’t escape you. You are what I want, no one else. There is nothing I want or need more than this. Us. Remember the day we got up early and watched the sky go from pitch black to sunrise on your balcony?” he gestured toward the balcony and took a step closer. “The time I had to sleep on your floor on that mission because my room was next door to Clint’s and he and Nat were at it like rabbits on Viagra. The time I took you out for a drink because I didn’t believe anyone could be so reserved as you were. These are all moments that I remember clearer than all of the science in the world, because they’re all moments in which I fell in love with you just that little bit more. I can’t let this go, not without another try. Please, Steve.” He begged, now only a few steps from Steve.
“Tony, I don’t-”
“Steve.” Tony took another step toward him. “Please. You know this is what’s right. You know that neither of us will be able to move on until we know.” He moved a final step closer to Steve, ending only a foot away.

Neither man broke eye contact in the following seconds. They seemed to continue their conversation just in their expressions, Steve throwing his weight behind composing himself and Tony looking far more pained, far more honest to the situation.

“Do you still love me?” Tony asked after a minute of silence broken only by their crying. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, every ounce of his being knowing that the right answer and the truthful answer were not the same. He wasn’t sure if fear was a rival or a close relative to the truth. Tony repeated himself, slowly this time, emphasizing each individual word as he begged for a response from Steve.

Tears fell from Steve’s eyes as he opened them and connected his soul with Tony’s once more.

“Yes.”