my love
Every morning, nowadays, Tony wakes up with a kiss.
It varies, day to day. Sometimes, Steve will turn and face him, warm smile on his face, place a large hand on his rough cheek, and kisses him soft, gentle and tender like Tony’s made of glass. Other mornings, it’s a quick thing. Steve would brush his long fingers through Tony’s curls, press a kiss onto his lips so quick it’s scarcely there, full of love.
Some rare mornings, they have time. Steve will kiss him slow, careful, fingers tracing under the tank that Tony sleeps in, languid and good. Eyes closed, Steve would kiss him with a ring on his finger, and the cool feel of it on his skin, its was heaven.
This Sunday is one of those days. Tony wakes up with Steve curled around him. When Steve sleeps, he’s less scared of seeming vulnerable- just is, and so sometimes, he curls into Tony like he’s all Steve’s got.
“Wake up, Wing-head,” Tony whispers, because the sun is rising and it’s a Sunday, and Steve likes to watch the sunrise when they have the time to.”
“Mm,” Steve mutters back to him, “You wanna watch the sunrise?”
“Wanna watch you,” Tony replies, as Steve sits up a little, JARVIS opening the curtains. Tony smirks, eyebrows wiggling silly and suggestive, and Steve, god help him, just looks endeared.
“Well, Mr. Stark, I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” Steve says, and maybe Tony’s about to get his morning kiss.
“Stark-Rogers, to you sir,” Tony says back. Steve just beams.
“We’ve got a month, sweetheart,” Steve says.
“Details.”
On a Sunday in May, Tony gets his morning kiss while orange sunlight falls over the two of them, and all Tony can think about is the ring on his finger and how he will be Tony Stark-Rogers, in a month.
It’s just like any other Sunday, and Tony had no idea how it was going to end.
Steve makes him coffee, and Clint is eating a fucking go-gurt and Nat, cleaning a knife, Bruce, sipping tea and smiling at him serenely- it’s a family.
Tony is in love. He has a family. God, who would’ve thought?
4 years ago, Tony would’ve been nursing a drink, alone, with nothing. Nothing at all.
“What’re you thinking so hard there?” Steve says handing him a mug, intentionally brushing their fingers. God, it’s like they’re kids.
Loving Steve makes him better. It makes him stronger, better, and- he’d like to think he makes Steve better too.
He sees how Steve used to be. Reserved, never laughing at the stupid jokes he made, keeping to himself, in the gym, in his room- away. Steve was the one made of iron, before, and it’s like Tony had cracked him open, and Steve was tender in his arms the moment of. He’d made Steve think the 21st century was worth it.
In the last few years, Tony had a lot he could be proud of, crippling insecurity notwithstanding. Convincing Steve Rogers that the world they lived in was worth living in, worth loving someone in, well. He couldn’t be prouder.
“My coffee. What did you think was on my mind?” Tony jokes, and Steve kisses his cheek, and Clint groans.
Tony thanks god that Steve wants to marry him, that he asked, because at this point, he’s not sure how he’ll survive life he doesn’t have him.
It really was a lovely Sunday when Tony lost the man he loved.
It had been a sudden thing, the call from SHIELD.One moment, Steve was talking abut whether he wanted a flower in his lapel for the wedding, and the next, well.
The next minute, SHIELD called, and the man Steve really loved was found. Bucky Barnes, got himself from Sokovia to New York, was now asking for Steve Rogers.
It’s explained to him hastily, that Barnes hadn’t died in the plane fall, only been captured by Hydra, forced to work and been brainwashed, and here he was, alive. Asking for Steve.
Steve was happy. Steve was overjoyed, rambling and talking over anyone else, Tony had never seen him like this, not ever. Tony had seen what Steve looked like in just about any situation, but this-this was a man getting his heart back. A man in love.
Tony wasn’t stupid.
“Are you coming?” Steve asks, and he might not be what Steve wants now, but he still knows him. Still can track every movement, can read every nervous tick- Steve needs him. He needs him to come, to meet Bucky, to hold his hand and him up, to be Steve’s legs when his own give out.
“Of course.”
Steve’s not much for affection when Avengers business is on, but he stalls then kisses Tony for a second too long. Tony knows this kind of touch as well. He’s done it before. Steve had told him once, he takes strength from him, and that’s what this was.
God, it’s a punch in the gut to know when he sees Barnes, Tony is never going to be what he needs again.
The quinjet ride’s quiet, and Steve never lets go of his hand, notice. Tony remembers the last ride like this. Tony had been hurt, on his way to a hospital. Nothing life-threatening, but Steve had this way of holding his hand like he’s a balloon and the only thing keeping him tethered is him.
He knows better than to ask if he’s okay, knowing whatever Steve says will be a lie.
Tony has spent so much time learning Steve. He knows how Steve takes his coffee, knows when not to touch and when Steve needs to be held when he needs to talk. Tony is a genius, and learning the language Steve’s love is written in- he’s mastered it. Low, sweet and warm, constant and present. That’s Steve.
He wonders if after all these years, maybe Tony knows Steve better than Bucky.
Suppose it doesn’t matter, really.
When Tony meets Bucky, it’s a hell of a weird thing.
“Bucky,” Steve says, walking closer to the taller man, “It’s me. It’s Steve.”
And Barnes smiles. Not that old school, charming all the photos shown, but like a man at sea finally, finally coming home. It’s love, pure and simple.
God, love isn’t meant to hurt like this.
Steve’s voice is gentle when he turns back to Tony, warmth in his gaze, and Tony doesn’t know how long it’s going to take until Steve’s gaze goes cold, and never loves him again.
“Bucky,” Steve says, and his voice is impossibly warm, just so full of love and that has to be for Barnes, doesn’t it? “This is Tony. He’s- well, he’s- he’s really important to me. Real swell.”
Barnes and Steve share a glance, and for the first time in years, Tony sees Steve as Cap.
That’s it, then. Steve hadn’t told him, and that was it. When they got back to the Tower, he’d tell Jarvis to set up a room for Barnes, and move Steve’s things back to his room.
(Tony would keep the photos of the two of them. It’s not like Steve needed them.)
“Welcome back, Sergeant.” Tony hears himself say, that press voice. Steve always hated his press voice. “You’re welcome to the tower, anything you might need. We’re just glad you’re safe.”
Barnes shakes his hand, and Tony is glad he’s happy. He deserves it.
If he needed confirmation that Steve was done with him, well, it came. When they got back to the tower, Steve marched right into the floor where Barnes was staying, before bidding Tony a quick goodbye.
He can imagine the conversation they’re about to have. Steve, begging for forgiveness, for being with (loving) someone else. The tearful look in Steve’s blue eyes, the way Steve’s hands would linger-
Steve always said he was proud of being with Tony. When the tabloids ran his name through the mud, when they’d called him a murderer- he couldn’t count the amount times the media had said Steve should leave him. That it was inevitable. Steve had scoffed, kissed him, and that the only thing he felt about being with Tony in public was, well. Pride.
They were meant to be getting married in a month. The invitations are sitting on his desk, and Steve is downstairs, leaving him.
It’s fucked. It’s all so fucked.
And he really wants a drink.
Steve doesn’t come to bed that night, and that’s the end, right? No more morning kisses.
It’s okay. Steve’s happy. It’s okay.
In the morning, he asks Pepper to send a jet to the tower, and he tells JARVIS to tell the team he’s on business. He is, really It doesn’t matter if normally he’d video conference.
He needs to be away, now. It’s his first morning in months where Steve is close enough to want and too far to have, and it’s torture. At some point, he’s going to be okay with it, with him leaving him.
He might as well deal with the cancellation of the wedding.
Steve doesn’t even say goodbye.
Steve calls, after he steps on the plane.
“Tony,” Steve hasn’t bothered with hello’s in ages, “Thank god you picked up. Where are you going? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I needed to go to Malibu, for work-“
“You hate going, you didn’t even mention-“
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Please do,” Steve says, and then, Tony hears the fear, “Bucky’s back, and he needs- he needs more than me, I don’t know how to help,” he hears Steve’s breathe a rough breath, “I need you. Please.”
You make me stronger.
Maybe Steve doesn’t love him anymore. And he knows what Rhodey would say, that it’s not his job to love Steve through him getting Bucky back. He doesn’t know how to not love Steve, though. He’s forgotten how.
“I will,” Tony says, “I will, sweetheart,” He lets the endearment slip.
“Thank you, Tony.”
Steve still sounds like he loves him, and the selfish part of him thinks that can be enough.
He comes home three days later.
Barnes looks better, healthier. He’s clean, and smiles at things, listens to music now, and Steve looks like he’s about to burst with concern every time he looks at him.
The team is waiting for him when he steps off the jet. It’s just a meeting, he’s only been gone for days, he doesn’t get why they’d care-
“Tony,” Steve says, pulling him into a hug. Steve is brilliant at that. Steve could hug you and put all your broken pieces back together. “I missed you.”
It’s cruel, but Tony wants to ask how? How could you miss me? You have your first love back.
“Only been gone a bit,” he says, pulling away quick. Steve seems unhappy.
“We were wondering why you left,” Nat says, in her don’t-bullshit-me voice.
“You don’t need to go to Malibu for meetings. You haven’t for half a year,” Clint says, and they must be really upset to have to bring this up like this.
Well. They should say something, shouldn’t they?
“Steve and I,” he says, and oh, it’s ending, he’s telling people now. He’s lost Steve, for good now, and there it is, gone. “We’re not together anymore. I needed a few days to process it.”
He expected a reaction, but everyone went silent. Nat looked shocked, Clint dropped his pen, and Bruce just looked sad. Thor had that solemn look he gets after a loss in the field.
And Steve.
Steve looked like he’d been punched, like the rug had been pulled out from under him. Like he’s hurt.
“Tony,” Steve says, but it's low and broken, like Tony’s just put him in the ice again, “Tony, baby, what are you- is this some kind of joke-“
Baby. If only Steve could just stop. Steve tries to get closer, and suddenly it feels like they’re alone, not surrounded by friends, Steve trying to hold him, trying to fix this-
“I get it, Steve. It’s better this way. We deserve to be happy.”
Even if it’s just Steve who’ll be happy.
Steve reaches out to touch him, and he backs away.
“I’m going to the workshop,” Tony says slowly, and Steve makes a keening noise, “I’m going to be busy for a bit.”
And he walks away.
_________________________
6 hours later, JARVIS notifies him that Steve has been waiting. For 6 hours.
“I advise you listen to him, Sir,” JARViS says.
“I don’t want to listen to him leave me, J. I could drink things quicker that’ll make me feel that way. More time efficient.”
“Sir, I don’t believe that’s what Captain Rogers intentions are.”
What?
Steve is a good man, and waiting 6 hours outside a door for his ex is, well. It’s something he would do.
But Steve’s been with him long enough to deserve to say goodbye in person.
When the door opens, Steve-
Oh, god.
Steve had been crying.
Red and swollen eyes, despair in those blue irises in a way even Tony hadn’t ever seen before. Everything in him wants to reach out and hold him, wants to make him better.
“I love you,” Steve says, walking in with his Captain America stride, but his voice is thick and obviously full of tears, “I love you and whatever made you do this, I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you go.”
That determination, that will, that’s the Steve he loves.
“You need to,” Tony says back, but Steve’s getting closer. Not imposing, never, but just enough for Tony to really see he was serious. “You can’t be with me because you promised you would.”
“I don’t know what makes you think I don’t want to be with you, Tony, but I’m asking you to stop. Losing you- I can’t, please-“ Steve huffed, “You left, and my stuff was in Bucky’s room, and you wouldn’t pick up the phone and I don’t know what I did but- I don’t know how to live without you. I’ve forgotten how.”
It’s not Captain America anymore. It’s Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who thought no one would want him, whose fiancé just told everyone he’s leaving him at the same time as him, with no warning.
God, Tony’s a fucking idiot.
“I thought you were leaving me,” Tony replies, and because he can’t himself, he pulls Steve in close and feels so fucking guilty for the way Steve melts into his grasp.
“Bucky came back, and I thought you would want your first love back. Piss poor excuse, but I thought you would be happier. That’s all I want.”
“How could you think I could be happier with anyone else?” Steve says, when he pulls away.
“You loved him, once. You were ripped away and- you’re allowed to want him. I wouldn’t blame you. I just wanted to make it easier.”
Steve kisses his wrist like he’s something holy.
“Tony, I asked you to marry me. Do you remember the first time I asked you to marry me?”
Tony blinks.
“I said, my whole life I was waiting for you. That some mornings, before I kiss you, I thank god for time bringing me to you. That it was worth it. You’re are worth it to me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Tony could cry.
“Why on earth would you think I lied about it?”
“I didn’t think you lied, I just-“
Steve looked at him so pointedly he had to stop.
“I was wrong.”
Steve leaned his head on Tony’s chest, and look, they fit. They always have
“We need to talk about this,” Steve says, “But I need you to tell me you love me, and that you know I love you. Because I do, Tony. The last 6 hours felt- I never want to do it again. Please don’t make me.”
Oh, Steve. Reaching out to hold his face, kisses him slow and languid and Steve kisses back like he’s being held to the earth, like Tony might disappear.
“Marry me, Rogers.”
“Tony, I asked you.”
“Yes or no, Captain.”
When Steve kisses him, its past midnight, and oh, there’s a morning kiss. It’s slow, careful, fingers tracing under his shirt that Tony sleeps in, languid and good. Eyes closed, Steve kisses him with a ring on his finger, and he’d never taken it off. Never. The cool metal of it, the softness of it.
No one is ever going to take this from him. They’ll have to pry it out of his cold, dead hands.
“Yes.”