Post- The Battle of New York
It had sounded like a pick up line at first, but that was ridiculous because Tony was sort of dating Pepper, and it was Captain America asking.
“Sorry, what?” Tony blinked at Steve a few times. “What did you ask me?”
“I need a model.” Steve gestured to his sketch book. “Pepper suggested that the team get involved in the community and Nat and Bucky are working with the Scouts, and Bruce is volunteer teaching at the community colleges? I didn’t know what I could do– volunteering to help with the military didn’t seem right, and I can’t exactly give speeches on physical fitness since you know–” a glance down at his body. “– its hard to say things like say no to steroids when I’m basically a walking steroid?”
“Alright.” Tony tried not to smile at the thought of Captain America doing speeches on physical fitness and staying away from drugs. “So you’re going to teach art classes?”
“Art and music are the first things cut when schools or youth facilities get their funding reduced.” Steve said firmly. “So if I volunteer to teach classes, and provide the supplies, then the kids still get classes, right?”
“Definitely. That is definitely important. But you want to sketch me?”
“I figured everyone else was too busy.” Steve was starting to turn red. “And you can just sit there and work and I can sketch you? I need the practice. I thought I could teach a more advanced class that involves anatomy and–and–” more red, filling his ears and staining his cheeks. “– and physical form? But I need a model to practice on.”
“Yeah alright.” Tony finally put his phone away and folded his arms. “Just you know… nothing that gives my identity away. No face detail, definitely not the arc reactor? The last thing I need is a bunch of pre-teens fan girling out about me and putting awkward art on the internet.”
“I feel like Clint showed me a few pictures of you–”
“Yes! I know he did!” Tony interrupted. “And that is exactly why Clint has lost his internet privileges for the rest of the month!”
“Right.” Steve’s mind flashed back to the rather NSFW fan art of Iron Man and Tony that had cropped up online after the battle of New York.
He would be lying if he said some of it hadn’t sparked his creative juices as well.
“Well the identity thing isn’t an issue. Ill keep your face pretty blank, ignore the arc reactor, no problem. I can keep most of it as torso- only shots, if you like. Are you sure you’re alright with this?”
“It’s no problem.” Tony started moving towards the elevator again. “I got work to do right now, but you can sketch me as I do it, I guess?”
“That sounds great, thank you.” Steve followed Tony up to his office. “Um, most people are nervous when asked to be art models.”
“I spend more of my life getting photographed then I do breathing.” Tony winked at him. “This doesn’t even register on my top ten list of weirdest request.”
“Is this alright?” Tony lounged back in the chair behind the desk. “Or should I do something else, or–?”
“It’s just fine.” Steve sat right down and started sketching quickly, glancing up between his paper and Tony. “Just act natural, do your work or whatever you need, I’m sketching fast trying to get basic shapes down, so just ignore me.”
“Pretty sure ignoring people is what I do best.” Tony grinned, cranked some music, and got back to working on the stack of paperwork he had on his desk.
Almost an hour passed while Steve sat and sketched as quickly as he could, getting as many basic poses down as possible “Alright Tony.” he finally closed his book and looked up with a smile. “That’s enough for today. I’m going to work on cleaning these up and maybe we can try again in a few days?”
“Whatever.” Tony waved him off. “Just let me know.”
*********************
“You alright like this?” Steve asked a few days later, switching pencils to start shading in Tony’s hair.
“It might be the tiniest bit weird to have you breathing down my neck and obsessively counting my hair, but hey, I’ve had groupies before.” Tony joked and Steve rolled his eyes.
It was maybe a little awkward to be hovering behind Tony’s head and drawing his hair, but hey, the man had great hair and it would be really good texture practice for later.
“You really don’t like all the attention the press gives you, huh?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes to try and get the wave of a curl exactly right. “I mean, It seems like you’re always on magazine covers but–”
“Oh, I hate it.” Tony ran his hand through his hair and then winced. “Did that screw up you?”
“I got it.” Steve checked his drawing and then checked Tony’s hair, flitting his fingers through the dark strands to get them back to where they had been. “So you hate it? All that attention? That surprises me.”
“…yeah.” Tony had to swallow before he speaking, unprepared for how much Steve’s playing with his hair had disrupted his train of thought. “Yeah, I hate it. But why does that surprise you?”
“I dunno.” Steve moved to sit on Tony’s desk so he could get the profile of his hair. “Howard sort of basked in the spotlight, you know?”
“Trust me.” Tony sent him a quick glance. “I know. Dad was made for it. Me, not so much. I can fake it pretty well, but some days I feel like if I gotta smile like that one more time, my face might actually break.”
“You have a great smile.” Steve said absentmindedly. “Even your press one. Its always perfect.”
“You like my smile?” Tony blinked at him, and Steve glanced up with a smile of his own.
“Well yeah, Tony. Everyone likes your smile.”
“….oh.”
“I guess I’m done.” Steve flipped through the few pages of hair pictures, grinning when he realized he had gotten one with Tony’s hair looking just ridiculously fluffy. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Cap.” Tony definitely didn’t shiver when Steve put a friendly hand on his shoulder… but he definitely didn’t not shiver either.
What the hell was that?
*********************
Post–CA: TWS
********************
“I’m real sorry about your friend, Cap.” Tony said quietly, and the soft scritch of pencil against paper stopped. “I know you got real close to finding him and then he was just… gone again.”
“It’s um–” Steve sighed, not quite able to look up from the sketch and see the pity in Tony’s eyes. “It’s fine. But thank you.”
“If you wanted?” Tony took a deep breath. “I can write an algorithm that will run facial feature recognition and give us percentages as to whether or not the person it pinged is actually Sergeant Barnes? Then if you get a good percentage, like over seventy percent of something, we could send the team to go track him down?”
Steve was silent for a few minutes, working on getting the folds of Tony’s shirt just right, trying to capture the perfect shadow length to make it look three dimensional.
“You don’t have to do that, Tony.” He finally said. “With all the SHIELD files being dumped, I’m sure you have enough on your plate without adding a fairly hopeless search for Bucky in there as well.”
“Oh please.” Tony waved him off. “Most of the stuff in the SHIELD dump was already on my servers somewhere. Nothing new there. And I have the time so–”
“– I couldn’t ask you to do that, Tony.” Steve kept shading, knowing the blue was already too dark but unwilling to stop, knowing that if he didn’t keep himself distracted he damn well might collapse. “Bucky didn’t even know who I was, on the bridge? He tried to kill me. Tracking him down wouldn’t accomplish anything.”
“Steve.” Tony waited and waited until Steve could met his eyes. “I already wrote the program. But I won’t turn it on until you say yes.”
“How did you already write the program?” Steve asked in disbelief. “How did you have time? It’s been like forty eight hours since it all happened.”
“I have a lot of free time now that Pepper isn’t–” Tony motioned around the lab. “You know? Plus, I mean, we’re friends, Steve. If I can use my resources to help you out, why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m sorry about Pepper, Tony.” Steve said softly. “Sorry I wasn’t there to help with that.”
“You were busy, and you know Rhodey was there.” Tony tried to sound nonchalant. “We handled it just fine. Not everything is an Avengers related emergency.”
“Yeah, but we’re friends–” Steve repeated and Tony cracked a smile. “So I could’ve been there for you.”
“Its fine.” Tony insisted, his eyes warm at Steve’s offer. “So. Yes on the program? No on the program? Do you want to find Bucky?”
“He’s not Bucky anymore.” Steve argued again. “He’s forgotten about me.”
“Cap.” Tony leaned forward and pinned him with a look. “I don’t think anyone could forget about Captain America. And beyond that, the guy is your best friend. He might not know you right now? But he certainly wouldn’t forget you. You just gotta track him down and remind him.”
The pencil snapped in Steve’s hand when he tightened his fist, the thought of having Bucky back almost enough to make him want to cry.
“So, yes?” Tony raised his eye brows. “Yes to the program?”
“Please.” Steve muttered.
“No problem.” A few keystrokes on his computer, a few blings as the program booted up, and Tony whirled around with a pleased-to-hell smile on his face. “There we go! Now we just have to wait!”
Steve didn’t reply, but he turned a fresh page and started drawing Tony smiling.
Man, he loved Tony’s smile.
********************
Age of Ultron– pre party scene
********************
“Steve.” Tony was laughing at him. “Why are you drawing me right now?”
“It’s good practice.” Steve cocked his head, squinted his eyes, then erased a few lines, redrawing them carefully. “I’m working with my art class with action sequences, movement shots, that sort of thing. You working on the car is sort of perfect for it.”
“Right.” Tony tossed a rag at him playfully. “Hows the class going by the way? You’ve been able to do like, eight weeks worth all in a row, huh?’
“Yeah, didn’t have to suit up and run out the door–” Steve smudged a drop of ink on the picture in the exact spot where Tony grease on his cheek. “–for a little bit. It was nice.”
“Yeah, when I caught you and Sam making breakfast together, it sure seemed nice. Seemed awfully domestic too.” Tony teased and bent back over the open hood of the muscle car. “You two are cute.”
“Sam and I aren’t together.” Steve frowned over the comment, but focused on getting the detailing exactly right on Tony’s ass jeans, the buttons and grommets and worn seams. “Why would you think that?”
“Ill be honest.” Tony’s voice was muffled. “I thought you and Natasha were sleeping together? But then I saw you and Sam, and wow you guys look great.”
“Well we aren’t together.” Steve denied. “Not even close. Never even crossed my mind.”
“No?” Tony shot him a look that Steve couldn’t quite read, something between interested and hopeful. “And here I thought Captain America was into guys. Why else was your first outfit shorty shorts over tights?”
“Ok, in my defense–!” Steve could barely hear himself talk over how loud Tony was laughing at him. “IN MY DEFENSE I DIDN’T GET TO PICK THE OUTFIT!”
“Yeah, but you sure worked it, didn’t you?” Tony did a rather suggestive little wiggle, shimmying his hips and Steve chucked the sketch book at him, laughing over the startled ACK! and not-very-successful duck Tony tried to pull off.
“I’m just saying, Cap.” Tony started picking up sketches and tucking them back between the covers of the book. “I’m sure EVERYONE assumed you were down with the–” his voice trailed off as he started paying closer attention to the drawings. “Um, down with the– Steve, what are these?”
“Oh shit.” Steve’s face went bright red, then alarmingly pale when he realized which sketch book he had thrown at Tony. “Um–”
“I thought you were going to keep the drawings neutral enough that no one could tell it was me!” Tony’s eyes sparked angrily. “These are all obviously me! Steve, what the fuck!”
“Damn it.” Steve tugged at his hair in frustration. “Okay, don’t be mad. I didn’t realize that I had grabbed that notebook. That’s not my class notebook.”
“What do you mean, not your class notebook?” Tony snapped and shoved a drawing of his own chest at Steve, the arc reactor lit brilliantly, the scars detailed out around it. “And when the hell did you draw this one? I definitely don’t remember letting you–”
“Tony.” Steve grabbed at his wrist and took the picture, sliding it back in the book with the rest of them. “Just listen, alright?’
“I’m listening.” Tony grumbled, but he still looked furious, so Steve coaxed him over to the couch, waiting until Tony was sitting before pulling another chair up and sitting across from him.
“I have two notebooks.” he explained slowly. “One where I do general sketches, like this–” he offered Tony a rather vague sketch of him stretching. There was no head, the torso was twisted away to show the lines of the back, with no details below the waist. “See? A movement sketch? So the students can see how to draw shoulders and the back and all that.”
“Yeah? And?” Tony folded his arms defensively. “What about the others?”
“Sometimes–” Steve closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. “Sometimes when I like the vague sketch, I fill it in with you know, your details? And keep it for myself.”
“For yourself.” Tony repeated. “What does that mean?”
“It means– this.” Steve turned the notebook so Tony could see it, and sat back in the chair with his hands clasped in his lap, waiting for Tony to flip through it.
Tony was quiet as he looked at the drawings of him– laughing at something on the TV, messy haired while he worked, a close up of his hands and the ever present grease stains. There was one of him sleeping, passed out at the table with a half drunk cup of coffee still clutched in his hands. Another of him stepping out of the suit, looking worn out and tired. The shot of his bare chest, the scars brightly visible against his skin. Several of his eyes, all with varying shades of brown lit through them. Him at the computer. A rougher one of him shoving a burger into his mouth. An amazingly detailed picture of him as he slept on the couch in the lab, and then the most recent one– of him bent over his car, a smirk on his lips.
“Is this how you see me?” Tony asked, and the question was so unexpected that Steve didn’t know how to answer at first.
“What–what do you mean?’
“Is this how you see me.” Tony repeated. “I mean, my hands are filthy in this one, but you don’t draw it like that. And the scars on my chest are hideous, but you make them look…nice. And everyone else laughed at me for falling asleep at the table but you– you were the one to pick me up and put me in bed.”
Steve flinched and Tony nodded. “Yeah, I woke up a little for that. Didn’t want to read too far into it, so I didn’t say anything but–I mean– should I have said something?”
“Well–”
“And this one.” Tony held up the one of him sleeping. “I feel like it should be creepy, you drawing me while I sleep but–”
“I was trying to watch over you.” Steve muttered. “After Pepper left you never slept, but you slept when I sat here, so–”
“Is this how you see me?” Tony asked again. “Because, these might be the only pictures of me I don’t hate.”
“Yeah?” Hope, fragile and unsure, bloomed in Steve’s chest. “You’re not mad?”
“These are just for you?” Tony started flipping through them again. “Your students dont see these?”
“No, I have a whole other notebook upstairs that is just the outlines of these ones.” Steve hurried to say. “I can show you, prove it to you, if you want. These are just mine.”
“Why?”
“W-why?”
“Why.” Tony was staring at him now, holding onto the pictures so tight that his knuckles were turning white.
“Um, because Sam and I aren’t together?” Steve offered hesitantly. “And neither are me and anyone else because for a while now, like since after New York, I um–”
Tony kept watching him, waiting for him to finish.
“I feel like everyone sees a different side of you than I do.” He finished lamely. “Your press image or Iron Man or whatever. But when I draw you, I just.. I see something different. And I love it.”
A harsh intake of breath from Tony and Steve set his jaw, repeating firmly, “I love it. How I see you, how you let me see you? I love it. No one else gets to see that, and I love it.”
“Can I kiss you?” Tony put the pictures to the side, already leaning into the space between them.
“I think that’d be real swell.” Steve admitted and Tony laughed before smooshing their mouths together.
**************************
If Tony saw Steve folding up a picture of him smiling and putting it in his uniform pocket, he didn’t say anything.
He didn’t say anything when Steve transferred the picture to his next uniform, or the one after that.
No matter what, Steve never suited up anymore without tucking a picture of Tony into his breast pocket, and that was– that was incredible.
**************************
The Barton Farmhouse
**************************
“You’re mad at me.”
Steve looked up from the bed, from his sketch book, to see Tony standing in the doorway. “Tony.”
“I get it.” Tony tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably. “I get it. I screwed up. Now the world is sort of ending and it’s my fault.”
Damn it. Steve felt a pang of guilt. “Tony listen.” He sighed. “Out there at the wood pile, I said somethings I shouldn’t have.”
“Yeah, well I guess I did too.” Tony inched his way into the bedroom. “I meant it all, but I probably didn’t say it the right way.”
“Yeah.” Steve glanced back at the picture. “You don’t trust me?”
“What?”
“You don’t trust me. Because I don’t have a dark side?”
“That– that goes in the pile of things I shouldn’t have said.” Tony winced a little.
“But you meant it.” Steve clarified. “You don’t trust me, because you think I’m always alright?”
“I just have a hard time believing that the witch didn’t you know–” Tony tapped at his own head. “Mess with you? But out of all of us, you seem just fine. That bothers me.”
“Why?’
“Because I’m not fine?” Tony shrugged it off, but the hurt in his voice made Steve’s chest hurt. “I’m not fine, Steve. I haven’t been fine for a long time, and now I think I’m worse. And this little thing–” he motioned between them. “– whatever this rom-com thing is that we have going is going to end badly if I’m the only messed up one.”
“Is that what you think?” Steve sat up on the bed. “That you’re the messed up one?”
“Or at least the one that messes up.” Tony was trying to joke, but it only came off painful. “Doesn’t seem like a thing you’d want to stick around for.”
“Oh Tony.” Steve sighed and held out a hand. “Come here, come on.”
Tony watched him for a few seconds before finally crossing the room and taking his hand, letting Steve pull him down onto the bed, right up against his chest.
“You wanna know how I see you?” he whispered, touching a kiss to Tony’s head and showing him the drawing he had been working on. “This is how I see you.”
Tony ran his fingers over the hasty sketch, the background not done at all, vague figures off to the side, and in the middle, him holding the ax, mid swing into the wood pile, a look of concentration on his face.
“What’s this?” he asked, snuggling closer and breathing a quiet sigh of relief when Steve’s arms tightened around him.
“This is you, in the middle of a crisis, making sure that our host, his very pregnant wife, and adorable children have enough firewood.” Steve kissed his head again, squeezing him lightly. “I know it seems like we are fighting more often lately, and yeah, this situation is pretty awful, but this is how I see you. Right in the middle of everything, you are willing to stop and make sure the little guy is alright. And as a former little guy myself? I love that about you.”
“Oh.” I love that about you. That was as close as Steve ever got to saying the magic words. Not that Tony thought Steve loved him. Or maybe he did think it. Maybe he wished it? He didn’t really know. But he loved Steve, and damn he loved every time Steve said things like that.
This is how I see you, I love that about you.
“I’m glad you’re not little anymore.” Tony said, to lighten the moment and Steve laughed quietly before pushing down further on the bed, pulling Tony nearly on top of him and wrapping them both in covers. “What’s up, big guy?”
“Limited amount of rooms in the farmhouse.” Steve said, settling further into the pillows. “Impolite of us to take up two beds when we really just want to share one.”
“Sorry.” Tony made to wiggle off of him. “I only share beds with people I’ve seen naked.”
Tony didn’t know if he laughed harder over how fast Steve was suddenly naked, or how hard the soldier had fallen trying to get out of his pants.
He wasn’t laughing though, when Steve all but threw him on the bed, stretching out over him and pinning his hands above his head. He wasn’t laughing when the kiss was so possessive it stole his breath away, and left him reeling, hardly able to kiss back.
And Tony wasn’t laughing when Steve was buried inside him, their foreheads pushed together, panting into each others mouths more than they were kissing, one hand digging bruises into his hip, the other tangled in his hair.
He wasn’t laughing at all when Steve whispered soft and sweet, “I feel like I’ve waited so long to see you like this, Tony.”
****************
Pre- Lagos
****************
“I’m starting to think this whole drawing thing is a kink of yours.” Tony stretched out in bed, letting the sheet fall below his hips, and the hungry groan from Steve made the chilly room well worth it.
“Just a quick sketch.” He promised, pencil flying over the paper. “Then I’ll come back to bed. I love it when you’re like this Tony, all relaxed and blissed out.”
“I look like I need a shower.” Tony retorted, lifting sweat dampened hair off his forehead. “Like I was rode hard and put away wet.”
“Well, while that’s not untrue.” Steve grinned and kept drawing. “I love it. How you see you, and how I see you are very different things, remember?”
“Well hurry.” Tony checked the time. “You’ve got to leave for Lagos quick.”
“Yeah, I know.” Steve frowned at the thought. “I don’t really want to leave you, babe.”
“It was bound to happen.” Tony grinned over the petulant tone. “I’m not going to complain over Captain America pouting because we have to be apart, but you are a hero, right? Got to go when duty calls?”
“I know.” Steve added a few more lines to the sketch then put his pencil down and climbed back into bed, rolling Tony onto his belly and mouthing hot kisses down his neck. “But some days I’d much rather be the domestic type who can come home to his husband at five every day. We could have a white picket fence.” a nibble over Tony’s shoulder. “A golden retriever–”
“You practically are a golden retriever.” Tony grumbled, then yelped when Steve smacked his ass.
“An actual golden retrieve.” Steve corrected. “We could have a garden. We could trade off wearing an apron and pretend like we cooked even though we just order in. We could have Barton’s family over on long weekends and–”
“Wait.” Tony rolled over and stared up at him. “Steve, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about us.” Steve said patiently. “You don’t want to be a hero forever, right? Want to retire?”
“But you’re talking about retiring together.” Tony pointed out. “A house and a picket fence and–”
“and a husband?” Steve kissed his palm.
“Captain–” Tony said half teasingly, half panicky. “Are you proposing?”
“While naked and in bed?” Steve licked over a nipple and Tony grabbed at his hair with a little gasp. “No, not proposing while in bed, but I am suggesting–” he looked up from kissing down Tony’s stomach, blue eyes dark with emotion. “I am suggesting that you think about it? Because of all the ways I love to see you, the best would be with a ring on your finger.”
“What about Bucky?” Tony whispered, tugging at Steve’s hair to stop him from going any lower. “What about Bucky? What happens when you find him?”
“Your program hasn’t found him yet, Tony.” Steve sighed and rested his chin on the soft belly, nuzzling into the little bit of pudge Tony had put on in the last year since things had calmed down. “And if your program can’t find him, then nothing can. He could be back under, frozen for decades mores. I don’t want to put my life on hold hoping that one day my childhood friend might recognize me.”
“You’re sure?” Tony tried not to smile when the light stubble on Steve’s chin tickled across his hips. “Steve, you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Steve hauled himself back up to kiss Tony square on the mouth. “Honey, I’ve been sure for ages. Even when we fight. Even when we are apart for a long time. Sure I’m sure.”
“Be careful in Lagos.” Tony changed the subject so he wouldn’t cry and Steve only smiled and kissed the tear that had escaped. “And with Wanda. Its not that I don’t trust her, she is just still new to most of this remember?”
“I remember.” Steve assured him. “Everything will be fine. We will take care of Lagos, I will come back home, we can keep talking about this.”
“Yeah, alright.” Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed him back as hard as he could. “I’ll be here waiting.”
*****************
Post CA:CW
*****************
“Is there a Tony Stank here?” the delivery man asked, and Rhodey nearly busted a gut laughing, which made Tony laugh too.
It felt good to smile.
Some days he didn’t think he would ever smile again.
The phone was an old one, exactly one that Steve would pick out with out Tony there to laugh over the ancient technology.
The note was– well, painful wasn’t quite the right word. An apology that wasn’t really an apology. An explanation that somehow didn’t really explain anything.
And at the very bottom, hastily scribbled as if Steve had added it at the last minute–
“None of this changes how I see you, Tony.”
*******************
Pre-Infinity War
*******************
“Boss.” FRIDAY’S voice pulled Tony out of–out of nothing, because he had been doing nothing. Just sitting in an empty room, staring at an empty wall, holding a nearly empty box in his hands.
“Boss, your phone is ringing.”
“No its not.” he muttered.
“No, Boss, the phone is ringing.” the AI corrected and Tony frowned, pulling the phone out of his pocket where he always kept it.
Over two years, and it hadn’t rung once.
He had opened it at least fourteen times a day those first few months, tears falling onto his fingers as he dialed the number.
Then he opened it less, the glow of the new arc reactor lighting up his room as he held the phone with shaking hands in the months after.
Now, he hadn’t opened it in going on six months, but it was always in his pocket, always on his person, just in case.
“Boss.” FRIDAY spoke up again. “It’s ringing again.”
“Oh.” Tony jumped when the phone started vibrating in his hand again. “Right.”
He cleared his throat, straightened his tie as if anyone could see him, and in his best press voice– “You’ve reached Tony Stark.”
“Tony.”
Shit. Tony’s chest seized up and he couldn’t quite remember how to breathe. Shit.
“Tony?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. You’ve reached Tony Stark.”
“Right. It’s– its Steve.”
“Come on now.” Tony laughed, his press laugh, perfected after so many years. “Everyone in the world knows Captain America’s voice! What can I do for you?”
“Things are real bad on this side, Tony.” Steve was nearly whispered. “They’re real bad and we need help. Will you- will you come?”
“Aren’t there superheroes you can call for that nonsense?” Tony asked, as if he hadn’t been watching the news and watching the world go to hell. “I’m basically retired these days, haven’t you heard?”
“You’re a hero, Tony.” Steve murmured. “The people need to see their hero out at the head of the fight. The team needs you.”
“Is that how you see me, Cap?” Tony looked down at the box in his hands. “As a hero?”
*************
Sometime post Ultron and Pre CACW
“I need a hero.” Tony sang to himself, flipping through the pictures he had printed out of he and Steve to find one to put in the new frame by his bed. “I’m holding out for a hero til the end of the night!”
“Wish granted.” Steve swooped in and gave Tony a heart stopping kiss, nearly desperate to hold him after so many days apart. “I’ll be your hero, baby.”
“Hey.” Tony kissed him back happily. “I was just trying to find a picture to put in the frame. Do you like this one?” he held up a cute selfie they had taken in bed, just the shoulders up on both of them, hiding the arc reactor and the scars, sharing the same pillow, a goofy grin on Steve’s face, an equally silly smile on Tony’s.
“Did I ever show you the sketch I did of that one?” Steve started digging through the desk he had moved up to Tony’s suite. “I loved that one so much, I drew it over and added to it.”
“Steve.” Tony sighed as he looked at the drawing. “My dick’s out in this one.”
“I know.” Steve laughed and Tony was reminded all over again that just because Steve was close a hundred years old, really he was just a twenty five year old frat boy most days. “But look, its sweet right? I mean, we have just finished making love–”
“– I love you.” Tony kissed his cheek. “Old fashioned. Adorable.”
“– and you were still so soft and warm against me.” Steve’s voice dropped, tracing the lines on the picture.
They had just finished together, and Steve had barely gotten them cleaned up when Tony broke out his phone for a selfie. His drawing captured the wrinkled sheets down around their calves and the way their legs were still entwined. He had a love bite around his nipple, and Tony had one further down by his hip. Both of them were obviously sated, obviously happy, and obviously in love.
“Now what would the fans say if they knew we heroes engaged in lascivious behavior?” Tony teased, jabbing at Steve’s ribs. “They would be scandalized.”
“Well, I’m not saying we have to print my drawing.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t want anyone else to ever see you like this.” He pulled Tony in close for another kiss. “Let America see her hero. But me? This how I will always see you– happy, warm, and perfect. Mine.”
“Yours?” Tony curled closer, hooking his fingers in Steve’s belt.
“Mine.” Steve repeated. “I love you, Tony.”
*******************
“Of course, that’s how I see you, Tony.” Steve’s voice on the other end of the line brought Tony back to moment. “You’re a hero. That’s how everyone sees you. The entire world. Iron Man.”
“Right. The entire world.” Tony stared down at the drawing in the box, at the way Steve had captured them so happy. “A hero.”
“Please, say you’ll come.” Steve’s voice lowered and Tony hated how much it hurt. “Tony, please. We need you. I need you.”
“Of course I’ll come.” Tony forced his voice towards joviality, never mind the tears running down his face. “Steve, of course I will. A hero. That’s what I am. That’s how everyone sees me. That’s what I’ll be.”
“Thank you, Tony.” silence for a few seconds, then Steve whispered, “You know I can still tell when you’re being fake with me? I’m not the media, Tony, you don’t have to-”
Tony hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
Then he carried the box out of what used to be his and Steve’s bedroom and down the hall, heading outside to where he had rented a giant dumpster.
The box, the pictures, the old sketchbook all went into the dumpster, along with the bed they had bought together, the silk sheets Steve had nearly squealed over, the dozens of throw pillows, the pieces of Steve’s old desk– it had taken nearly two years, but Tony was finally moving on.
**************
Wakanda
*************
“You didn’t tell him.” Bucky’s voice startled him and Steve jumped to his feet, dropping the phone in the process. “You didn’t tell him, Stevie. Why didn’t you tell him you still love him?” Bucky sounded pained. “That you still carry his picture around? Why?”
Steve didn’t answer, only smoothed careful lines from the sketch that was always in his pocket, traced the nearly faded ink, and tucked it back inside his uniform.
Only in his dreams did he see Tony this way anymore– happy, warm, perfect, his.
The reality was two years of heartbreak and pain and regret.
But he couldn’t dwell on that right now.
First they had to save the world.
Then he could grieve for everything he had given up.