a·tax·i·a - noun - the loss of full control of bodily movements
Steve had never been a person who was troubled with addiction. Most things in his life had been so fleeting or scarce that there hadn’t been any time to find something to cling to. Not even people. Everything was stuck in a rapid pace he could never slow down, and even when the world stopped, it was only for a moment. Not even long enough for him to catch his breath. People, feelings, places—all of it was barely breathed in before it was exhaled again, and Steve was left grasping at a ghost. Two weeks became five seconds, five years became a few hours. Addiction never had time to set in—or so Steve had always believed.
Leave it to Tony Stark to prove a theory wrong.
See, Steve had always overlooked one thing that was always present: that perfectly tuned, pulsing monster in his chest that gave him fresh blood, fresh life, fresh poison. It kept him young when he was supposed to be decaying, and yes, maybe it should have occurred to him that those perks weren’t just physical. He could hurt just as long as he could defy aging. He could inflict self-torture far beyond what any normal human being could ever take.
Steve stood at the edge of the grounds of the Avengers compound, the evening air thick with humidity, sticking to his skin and lungs and that fucking heart of his. Maybe if he coated his throat in enough damp air it would alleviate that dull thing in his chest that wouldn’t go away.
He was fine. Truly. Steve smiled and laughed, he had a good time at parties and went to lunch with his friends. He found value in his life, his career, his community. Happiness didn’t evade him. He was happy. If anyone were to ask him, he could truthfully say he was a happy guy. But that didn’t mean happy. That happiness was behind something he could not touch. That happiness was a presence that he couldn’t even see anymore, but yet he knew the way it felt. He had those aching memories.
Tears didn’t come anymore when he thought about it. Those had gone away long, long ago. Back when it was raw. Back when there was what seemed like a permanent indent in his skin where that ring used to be.
He took a deep breath, and it didn’t shudder. There was no flaw, and it didn’t help the ache. His gaze turned to the stars, but there weren’t any. Just navy clouds, a few bits of sky that punctured them in patches too disorganized to focus on.
The weight in his chest churned, almost making him nauseous. Steve closed his eyes, trying to make the quiet and calm work in some way. Maybe this would be the time he cracked that parasite behind his sternum and alleviated just a fraction of the pressure.
God, he wished it would.
His eyes itched for just a moment, but no moisture. That was as close as it got anymore.
A low buzz from his pocket broke the moment before it started, and Steve fished his phone out, the blue light indicating a new text.
Don’t bother. I’ll send it in the morning. Night night.
“Fuck you,” Steve said quietly, trying to force malice into his tone. The feedback loop rocketed through his synapses along a track so well-worn Steve was sure he couldn’t veer it off course if he tried.
Tony didn’t care about him anymore. Tony didn’t ever think about him the way he used to. Tony had erased the past five years like nothing. Easy. No pain, no discomfort—the only unbearable part of it all was Steve. Stupid, sensitive Steve. The one who couldn’t leave it be, the one who had to keep wanting closure when the answer was just no.
But Steve was better now. He could handle it. With time, it would go away. Somehow, he would make it go away.
He turned back to the compound, and purposefully kept his gaze straight ahead or to the left. He didn’t want to know if the light was still on in Tony’s living quarters. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to send a text back, just to see if Tony would respond. To see if he wanted a conversation where there was none. If he even wanted Steve at all.
Fuck.
The grass whispered around him as he strode through the outlying field surrounding the manicured lawn of the compound. He listened for the rustling of animals as he moved through the silvery sea until the grass suddenly shrank to nothing when he broke onto the grounds.
He still hadn’t looked.
His eyes were dead set on the glowing white “A” on the far corner of the main building.
He buzzed into the outer door, briefly wondering if maybe Tony kept tabs on his entries and exits of the building. Those thoughts were the worst, the impossibly quick ones that were labeled desperate if he ever allowed himself to remember thinking them.
Steve turned sharply, pulling out his phone again to delete the entire text conversation with Tony, because he knew in a few minutes or a few hours he would look through it again, only to find himself utterly disappointed. What may have seemed so affectionate or intriguing or thoughtful in the moment always soured to the truth after a few hours away.
With one last quiet sigh, Steve slipped into the darkness of his own living quarters for another night that was no more a victory than it was a failure.
Steve woke in the morning, the grey light of dawn soaking through his bones. He sat up almost immediately, his body an arc that sagged too deeply at the ends. He wiped his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. Today was a day where he’d slept with pain in his chest and it had sat there all night, coagulating into something that sucked the life from his eyes but not the smile from his face.
He silently went about his morning routine: changing out of his sleeping sweats and into track pants. The kind Tony had always liked. Steve told himself he wore them because they were comfortable and light, openly turning a blind eye to the truth. Sometimes that was the best way to move on.
It was the same reason he hurried to get to the training center before nine. Before Tony showed up to throw a few punches with Happy. Accidental. It wasn’t like Steve knew for sure that Tony was going to be there. Yes, he often showed up between nine and ten, but it wasn’t like Steve went to work out just to see if he showed up.
That was what he told himself.
At 10:05, Steve told himself Tony was just running late. At 10:30, he no longer found a reason to be lifting weights.
He finished his final set and showered off in the locker room, his mind numbingly silent. Stupid. He was so damn stupid.
Once he’d dried off, said hi to T’Challa when he’d passed, Steve slung his gym bag over his shoulder and headed down the hall. The feeling he’d woken up with wasn’t gone, and the way his lungs burned only added to the tightness.
“Spangles.”
Hearing his voice was like a punch to the face.
Steve tried his best to school himself, to not gawk or stammer or fucking fall to the floor.
Tony was the same. He never seemed to age. Perfect skin, the intimate scent of that cologne he fucking loved. Tony fucking knew. Tony fucking knew he loved that cologne. And who wore cologne to the gym?
Tony did. Stupid question.
“Tony,” Steve found himself saying, his head dipping to a nod. His body knew better than his brain sometimes. “Good to see you.”
Tony smiled at him, his eyes alight with genuine fondness.
The pain in Steve’s chest was gone.
“Good to see you, too.”
Tony had stopped walking.
“You send it?” Steve asked, a smile on his face. Not forced. Real.
“Ah, yeah.” Tony gave a little shrug. “Got it down to the post office this morning. Vision is kind of helpful for that.”
Steve let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose he would be.”
“I’m just headed to get some coffee, wanna join? Think you can stomach a cold brew with your ex-husband?” Tony tossed him a wink that made Steve’s stomach drop.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
Why the fuck--?
Steve adjusted his bag, knowing full well this was a terrible idea. But the welling of warmth in his heart was so perfect. He was happy now. Why should he not let himself be happy?
The coffee joint at the compound was staffed by a Stark robot, and occasionally by new recruits serving a disciplinary sentence. Dealing with coffee orders was evidently enough of a threat that they seldom saw a human face behind the counter.
“The usual, sir?” the robot asked, giving Tony a nod.
Steve had always liked how Tony incorporated such tiny gestures into his creations.
“Mm, sure,” Tony replied, looking over the menu. “But add a pump of caramel. I’m feeling rebellious.”
Steve blinked, trying not to assume he was the reasoning behind that statement. It was all too easy to daydream about the things Tony said, forcing more meaning to them than they actually had.
“And you, Captain?” the robot asked.
“Uh, iced latte.” He used to be fancy with his drink orders, but with Tony there, he didn’t want to seem like he was trying for anything. The smile still hadn’t left Steve’s face, and his heart still swelled with more and more affection in each passing moment.
“Iced latte,” Tony repeated, tapping on the granite of the bar. He turned to face Steve, same charming smile. “Keeping it simple this morning?”
“Trying to,” Steve replied with a chuckle. He wasn’t sure why it came out sounding like something bad.
If Tony noticed, he didn’t say anything, and instead shepherded Steve down to the other end of the bar while their drinks were made.
“I have a proposal for you,” Tony said, turning to face him.
Steve’s heart stopped for a moment, and he had to war with himself to keep calm. Endless scenarios played out in Steve’s mind of what Tony might be about to ask. He had a habit of bringing up very important topics in a casual way—what if he wanted them to get back together? Maybe this was the gateway to a road that ended in their happiness, renewed vows, renewed—
“A proposal?” Steve asked, cocking a brow. He had to play it cool.
“Mhm. It involves you and me, like the good ol’ days.”
Steve’s smiled widened. Surely Tony meant something about their relationship. Surely there was no other way to interpret that.
“Yeah?” Steve leaned against the counter, daring Tony to say it. To think a seemingly meaningless morning in the gym could be leading up to everything was…perfect somehow.
Their drinks were presented at the bar, and Tony snatched them both up before heading to a table. One of the smaller tables that restaurants seemed to design to purposefully aid two people in getting comfortable sharing one space. Not that Steve would need any aid there.
“I’m hanging on every breath here, Tones,” Steve said once they had both sat down.
“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Tony laughed, pulling out a tablet.
A vacation, maybe. Or a fancy restaurant with one of those visual menus. Or maybe a trip to Europe—that would be perfect, really. They’d gone on their first trip as a couple to Europe.
Steve leaned in, but Tony pulled back, wiggling his finger at Steve. “Nope. No peeking.”
Steve laughed—it came so easy. Everything good came far too easily when Tony was around. He sipped his drink, watching Tony with fondness in his eyes as he scrolled through the tablet.
Finally, Tony looked up at him with a smile and turned the tablet around.
There was a video of an aircraft carrier cutting through the sea, surrounded by smaller ships in a way that gave Steve a few too many memories of D-Day footage.
He couldn’t see the connection between them and the carrier.
“What am I looking at here?”
Tony’s grin grew wider. “Our target. You and me are gonna get in there and swipe the EMP they stole, get it back in the Quinjet—do what spec ops has been trying to do for the past two weeks. Except we’re the dream team. We’re going to win.”
Steve blinked, looking from Tony and back to the video. “This is the good ol’ days?”
“Yeah, back when we were on the missions, not running them. You and me.”
The gushing fountain of happiness in Steve’s chest burst a pipe. He swallowed, glancing between the tablet and Tony, waiting for the joke. The true story. He waited for Tony to laugh and say that it was all a trick, that he really just wanted to go get dinner.
But the longer he sat there, the more he came to realize that there was no joke. This was real.
Tony had no intention of changing anything about their state of being. Tony only wanted to go on a mission together. A stupid mission that was hardly worthy of the two leaders of the Avengers to tackle jointly. Not to mention it didn’t seem to have much of a chance of being successful if Special Forces hadn’t been able to take what they needed after two weeks of trying.
God, he’s been a damn idiot. The sparkle in Tony’s eye had just been excitement to go on a mission, not to go withSteve on a mission.
Though, that was what he seemed to be implying. That Steve was the reason for all of this.
Maybe they had some hope after all.
And how could Steve deny that smile? Tony had no idea he’d disappointed him—Tony just wanted to be around him. He just wanted to spend time with his…friend. But maybe this was the way back to where they had once been.
“You and me,” Steve repeated, hoping to drive that point home. To plant something in Tony’s mind as to why he might have suspected this was going somewhere else.
“You wanna go? We’d leave tomorrow morning.”
Steve took a thoughtful sip of coffee, pretending to mull it over. To prove to Tony that he wasn’t just going to jump into this just because Tony asked (though he totally was). He didn’t want to be too easy, not after all they had been through.
“Sure,” he finally said. “Sounds like fun.”
And it was worth every bit of confusion and hurt to see the way Tony smiled at him.
Steve watched the moon with the sound of crashing waves all around him, and for a moment, everything was normal. This was a welcome vacation from the hell he’d created for himself by marrying the man he loved—the man who no longer loved him. The man who lay beside him on a goddamn beach on a goddamn island that wasn’t supposed to exist. But aliens weren’t supposed to exist either, so Steve could hardly be surprised.
A part of him dared to think that maybe Tony had planned this as some insane, abstract, batshit way of getting them back together again, but he knew that was a lie. Those kind of lies kept him up at night, playing old memories, old kisses, old touches that used to make him feel warm and so safe.
A long sigh escaped him as he took another look down the beach. As though something might have changed in the twenty seconds he’d been looking elsewhere. Nothing had—the waves still seethed at the sand, a few crabs skittered along the receding water, looking for prey. Everything was so cold and solid—like stone. The sea itself was just was churning, moving rock; ancient and unforgiving. Slow and merciless.
The mission had failed. Obviously. It had failed so completely that Steve couldn’t even see how he had once thought it would succeed. One moment he was sipping coffee, agreeing to take on an easy task, and now they were here, marooned, raw, and injured. Tony was, anyway.
Fortunately, they weren’t in any real survival mode. The Quinjet was equipped with enough food for months, enough medical supplies to patch up a small army, and they were armed to the teeth if their enemies had somehow tracked their embarrassing fall. The only thing they didn’t have was fire (enemies could spot that from a far distance), but they had sleeping bags, a tent, and plenty of blankets.
Steve was wrapped in one; the fuzzy green kind that was somewhere between itchy and comfortable. A fine line he didn’t like walking, especially when he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Everything had gotten soaked pulling Tony out of the sea (honestly, Steve and water retrievals were so common that he ought not to go anywhere near any body of water for the rest of his goddamn life just to save others the risk).
Tony shifted in his own sleeping bag, shivering in the nighttime chill. Steve hadn’t put up the tent because he couldn’t tell if the sand would support it, and it was too dark to build it anyway. Besides, Tony could use a night under the stars—he probably hadn’t experienced a “camping” trip since the time Steve dragged him to the Rockies while they were still married.
“Fucking altitude,” Tony had wheezed. “I fly at thirty thousand feet and this—gets me. I hate you.”
Steve had laughed then. Now, he wouldn’t laugh. Those words would not be affectionate or loving. They would be dry, thick, and crusted with horrible truth. Tony never said them, but sometimes Steve swore he wanted to. He watched--like a storm gathering on the horizon--when Tony almost made himself say it. When things became so impossible that the best thing to do was to hate. Steve understood. He wished he could do the same.
He wished he could even just be indifferent.
But he loved Tony. Still. He could never shake it. Loving Tony was part of his being—he’d taken an oath to love and protect him at all costs. Even if Tony broke that oath and severed that vow, Steve would always hold up his end up the bargain.
Even if some days, he loathed its very existence.
Tony made a small noise, and Steve’s gaze turned to him to make sure he wasn’t waking up. Tony had taken a serious hit when they crashed, and he hadn’t been wearing the suit. Friday had made sure to inform him that Tony was going to be fine, but that he needed rest and hydration.
Knowing full well that Tony wouldn’t sleep on his own, Steve had gotten him to swallow a sleeping pill while he was too dazed to recognize what was going on. He’d been out for a few hours, but Steve could tell by the crease in Tony’s brow that he was fighting it. Within an hour he’d be awake, and he’d be in an awful mood.
One thing Tony hated most in the world was being tricked.
How devastating it must have been for him to find out he’d tricked himself into loving—marrying—someone he didn’t really care about at all.
Despite being close to waking, Steve could still find peace in Tony’s features. His skin was smooth, his lashes long and dark. His cheeks soft, that immaculately groomed facial hair still in place despite being sandblasted from an afternoon spent dozing on a windy beach. Tony’s brain was quiet—and Steve seldom got to see when Tony Stark’s brain was quiet. Even in their most intimate moments, Tony was always at least a little bit distracted. His mind could not focus on one thing—that was never ever going to be how he worked.
Steve leaned over, his arm unsheathing from the wrap of his blanket. His fingers found Tony’s cheek, gently ghosting over the warm skin there. Tony would be burnt in the morning, his skin was hot to the touch. Tony with reddened cheeks would be a funny sight, certainly.
God, it was so strange to touch him again. Even if this was not consensual by any means, Steve had to do it. Just to make sure that was still the same Tony he’d left. No—the same Tony who had left him.
The ghostly hiss of the waves only served to distance Steve from what he was doing as his palm came to cup Tony’s jaw, as his thumb stroked the curve of Tony’s cheekbone.
He pulled away before Tony could move and scare him off.
Tony had to love him still. Steve could not imagine a human being loving another the way Tony had loved him, only to have it suddenly go away. Not without something traumatic. Not for no reason other than ‘we don’t work’—yes, that had been Tony’s reasoning. Leaving Steve to flounder in the dark, his heart still full of love and affection that had to grow stagnant and bitter. Ferment into something that was once vivacious and life-giving into something he could get drunk off of in the dead of night when he needed warmth and morphine.
Tony was the same. Love had made him better and brighter, and that had stayed. Somehow, that had stayed. Steve couldn’t say the same for himself.
With a quiet sigh, Steve looked to the stars, hoping to see the faint light of an oncoming aircraft. There was none. It would take probably a day to hunt them down, Steve guessed. Tony would build something in that time—probably faster, really. Steve had always underestimated his abilities. That was probably one reason Tony no longer loved him.
The tide swelled in the night, and clouds moved in. No lightning yet, but Steve could taste rain in the wind, and the air seemed to tense. A storm was on the way, which meant they would need to find cover in the wreckage. Tony was almost awake, his eyelids fluttering in an attempt to keep conscious.
It wasn’t long before a low grunt signaled Tony’s entry back in the world.
“Good evening,” Steve said absently, his eyes on the clouds.
“Goddammit,” came Tony’s reply.
Steve turned his gaze back to his ex-husband, watching as Tony propped himself up with one arm, hair filled with sand, utterly bewildered. But Tony’s brain was working again, and within five seconds, Steve could see that Tony remembered how they had gotten here, where “here” was, and who was there with him.
“Steve,” Tony said, right on cue.
“Tony,” Steve returned in the same bewildered tone.
He wasn’t expecting the wide smile that came in response. “Nobody picked us up yet?”
Steve shook his head. “They don’t have a signal. The EMP took it out, I guess.”
“Right.”
Tony sat up completely, shaking his head so that the sand fell from his hair. It half worked. He still looked good, as always. Steve hated that his brain still made those mental notes.
“We need to get under cover,” Steve said after a moment. “It’s going to storm.”
“I gathered,” Tony grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “We got any supplies or do I gotta chop your leg off and eat it to get my midnight snack?”
Steve didn’t smile. “We didn’t really lose much in terms of—“
“Are you wearing any clothes under that blanket?” Tony asked suddenly, throwing Steve off.
“I’m sorry—what?”
Tony frowned, reaching over and pulling at Steve’s blanket, exposing his bare thigh. “Jesus, you’re not!”
Steve snatched the fabric back into place with a huff. “My clothes were soaked. I’m not about to sit around in wet clothes. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”
Tony laughed, and the sound made Steve’s stomach twist. He hadn’t been trying to make a joke there. It was oddly fitting though—some kind of metaphor for what their relationship had become. If this could really be called any kind of relationship.
“I’m sorry,” Tony said as he brushed off his shirt. “Didn’t mean to sound rude. I just…” He shook his head. “You’re funny, Steve.”
Steve willed himself not to take that as a guised ‘I love you.’ Even if his brain was screaming that that was exactly what Tony meant.
These moments were always almost too much for Steve. His chest got too tight, uncomfortably so, and he wasn’t sure anymore if it was from love he shouldn’t have or from deep pain. Nowadays both felt pretty much the same.
Tony grunted as he got into an upright position, but Steve instinctively swooped in when he saw Tony’s eyes blow wide.
Steve had suspected some sort of concussion with the impact of the crash—especially since Tony hadn’t been wearing the suit.
“Easy,” Steve soothed, gently guiding Tony back down to the sand. His touches were strange—just enough pressure and force to garner a reaction, then he released. There was no lingering.
“Fuck,” Tony groaned, lifting a hand to massage his forehead.
“You hit your head pretty hard on the way down,” Steve told him, scooting a little closer. Yeah, maybe taking his clothes off hadn’t been the best idea. Though he was dry now, and much warmer than Tony appeared to be.
A low growl of thunder rattled the sky, and Steve lifted his gaze.
“Would it be alright if I carried you to cover?” Steve asked, only meeting Tony’s eye at the tail end of his question.
Tony opened one eye to shoot him a look. “Steve, for fuck’s sake. I’m not afraid of you. You’re not some…you’re not anything negative to me.”
The pain of indifference once again clawed at Steve’s innards. Tony simply didn’t care.
With only slight embarrassment, Steve stood up, allowing the blanket to fall and exposing his naked body to the moonlight. Some years ago, this might have triggered a crafty line from Tony that ended with them fucking in the surf.
Tony made no comment now, though his eyes did rake over Steve’s form once or twice.
Tony had to miss the sex. Or at least the pride that came with being the partner of a man who looked like Steve. Where people might not have passed him a glance before the serum, he was no idiot. He was physical perfection—or as close as they could get on earth. Steve knew it. Tony had said it many times.
“C’mon,” Steve said quietly, leaning down and effortlessly scooping Tony up from the sand.
They didn’t say anything to each other as Steve headed for the wreckage, but he was conscious of every breath ghosting his chest, every place where Tony’s body heat warmed his skin. He was conscious of the eyes on his face, his jaw, the quiet sound of Tony’s lips parting with words that never came out.
A battered wing piece created an arch over the sand, providing a cave-like structure that looked sturdy enough to withstand any harsh winds while offering rain cover. Certainly better than the smoking cockpit.
Steve gently lowered Tony onto the cold sand, and for a moment he felt a familiar pull.
That something that felt as though it was literally tugging his heart tight against his ribs, trying to squeeze it out between the spaces designed to protect it. Or maybe to hold it back during just this sensation.
This feeling was a hollow version of the one he felt before. Before, an inkling of this feeling would prompt a kiss. The slightest whisper of this feeling would have him resting his forehead against Tony’s, sharing his breaths.
“Anything feel broken?” he asked, not bothering to save face. It wasn’t like Tony wanted to notice anyway.
“No.”
Tony looked up at him for a fraction of a second too long.
“Don’t do this,” Steve whispered, turning his face away. “I told you not to do this shit, Tony.”
It was bad enough he was crouched there, totally naked with sand up his ass. As if that wasn’t humiliating enough.
Steve didn’t wait for a response before he stood up, heading into the belly of the ship to grab some clothes. He should have done it ages ago, but he couldn’t allow himself to leave Tony’s side when he wasn’t awake. Old habits from a war long over.
“Steve,” he heard Tony call as he fished out some oversized pants from the supplies at hand.
Tony’s eyes were so big and beautiful. They could suck Steve in without warning—they were as dangerous as they were home. He’d made a world in those eyes. One he’d convinced himself he would never have to leave. Just imagining the way Tony might be looking for him right now made it a little more difficult to breathe.
Out of anyone, who the fuck would have thought Steve Rogers would be the one to be handed the papers? Who would have thought it was Steve who wasn’t good enough to deserve a marriage?
“Steve,” Tony called again, gentler. “Come out here, please.”
Steve shrugged on a shirt that was a bit too tight, but he had no other options. Tony would think it was purposeful, like Steve wanted to try to win him back by wearing a fucking tight shirt. Like some—
Steve sighed, and headed outside into the cool night air. Right past Tony and back to the beach to retrieve his blanket. Tony ought to at least stay warm.
Fucking Tony. This was such a bad idea. He wasn’t trying to feel anything toward Tony—and even if he was, it would be an attempt to hate him. Instead, five hours near him and Steve was breaking down walls he had spent a year building up again.
Steve’s hand balled to a fist in the wooly fabric of the blanket as he headed back to his ex-husband.
Tony was sitting up on his elbows, watching Steve with an unreadable expression. Not even his eyes gave him away this time.
The wind kicked up, lashing Steve’s face and sending his hair whipping around above his head until he had sunk to his knees in the sand behind the cover of their shelter. The rain would start soon—probably a complete downpour, all at once.
As though the world knew better than to send anger with a soft beginning.
He tossed the blanket to Tony, where it landed with a gentle thump on his chest. Steve would not lower himself to tucking Tony in like a child.
“Steve,” Tony said, voice quiet.
Tony had yet to learn from the world.
“What,” Steve snapped.
“I just want to talk.”
Goddammit. “About what?” Steve asked. “I think we’ve talked about everything we could possibly talk about on this planet.” But Tony had already punctured his cheek with the hook, because Steve had never thought to spit it out. Not really.
“Thanks for watching out for me,” Tony murmured.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Steve said with a sigh. “I hope you didn’t think I was just going to leave you there to die or something.”
“No, I didn’t think that,” Tony said with a shake of his head.
Steve tongued the inside of his cheek, looking to the sea. The granite waves still churned, but the edges were ragged, and beyond the surf he could see the confusion on the water as crest collided with trough, creating ever-moving craters in the horizon. The storm was upon them, yet the rain still hadn’t started.
“Did you want to talk about anything else or are we done?” Steve asked rather quickly.
Tony didn’t say anything right away. “You never asked me why I wanted the divorce.”
Steve closed his eyes.
“Didn’t you want to know why your husband didn’t want to be with you anymore? You never asked me. Didn’t you want to know?”
“You said you didn’t love me anymore. What else did I need to know, Tony?” Steve’s eyes opened, and he met Tony’s gaze, unafraid this time. That pulling in his heart had stilled, and the dark matter that had taken the place of all of that affection kept his entire being solid. There was no wanting now, no desire.
“I didn’t say that.” Tony’s voice was tired. Disappointed. Again.
“Okay then, do you love me?” Steve asked, and he didn’t try to hide the malice in his tone. He knew the answer.
“Steve—“
“If you can’t answer, then you’re saying no.”
It was just that simple.
Hurt came to Tony’s face, the kind that sent ripples through Steve’s core, try as he might to be left unshaken. Tony had no right to look like he’d been the one to be affected by this. Tony was not the one served papers for what Steve had thought was just a rough spot.
“I still love you,” Steve confessed, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m stuck with that for the rest of my life. I still love you. I still love you and we didn’t even end our marriage in a way that gives me any excuse not to love you. So I just have to—I just have to sit here and—“
He cut himself off, swallowing hard.
A tinny thump on the outside of their shelter signaled that the rain was finally beginning.
“I care about you,” Tony said quietly. “I might not be in love with you anymore, but I still care, Steve. You’re still the one who’s most important to me.”
“Oh save it,” Steve croaked. “You can’t say stuff like that. You gotta know that, Tony.”
“Hey.” Tony crawled closer, sitting up a little more so he could reach over and place a hand on Steve’s forearm.
Steve flinched at the touch, but didn’t shove it off like he probably should have.
“I loved you with everything I had,” Steve whispered. “It was never a choice if it ever came down to you or something else. It was always you. It still is, and I hate it.”
“I know you did,” Tony soothed, gently rubbing his arm. “But I couldn’t…things changed and I still don’t know why. But when I knew I wasn’t in love with you anymore I couldn’t let you—“
Steve sobbed then, a low, mournful sound. Even though he had known for well over a year now that Tony didn’t love him, hearing the words from his mouth was worse than any pain he could recall in recent memory.
The rain pelted the side of their shelter, a tiny chorus of what sounded like gunfire against the metal of the ship’s wing.
“Steve, baby, c’mere,” Tony said gently, sitting up and putting his hand on Steve’s back, rubbing soothing circles there. “I’m not gone. I don’t hate you. I love you, Steve—just not the same way.”
Steve shook his head, tears streaking down his face where it was hidden in the crook of his arm, his knees drawn up to his chest.
“I try so hard to leave you behind. Every fucking day I say it’s gonna be the last time I let you control my life, and every fucking day, I can’t do it,” Steve forced out. “When I don’t see you for awhile I think maybe I have a shot at this and then you show up again and I’m back—I’m back to square one—I fucking hate it!”
Even as he spoke, he knew he would regret this in an hour or a day or in a decade. Talking feelings with Tony since the divorce had only ever left him shaken. Rattled to the core, the ghost of what his life could have been passing through him with the unparalleled chill of any paranormal encounter.
There was no end for him, he realized. This torture would continue for the rest of his impossibly long life, even after Tony was six feet under. To have earned that love only to lose it—only to have the one prize he valued most in the world ripped away from him was beyond what devastation could describe.
“I don’t…” Tony sighed again, but this time it sounded as if it had taken more out of him than just the air in his lungs. “I can’t think of a way to describe it. I don’t know what I was supposed to do. Did you want me to keep waking up next to you not feeling the same? I did that, for months. I thought it would just go away. Y’know, because people always say you don’t always love each other all the time after you get married. But it didn’t go away—but it never went sour either.”
“For you,” Steve spat, but it was spineless.
“Steve.” Tony moved closer, pulling Steve to him. Steve let himself be pulled, but he didn’t burrow into Tony’s shirt like he wanted to. “I should have been more open about it. I know that now. I shouldn’t have…fuck, I know the way I went about it was wrong. But I couldn’t—you always think everything can be fixed. You always run yourself ragged trying to make sure everything is fixed. And this wasn’t fixable. I knew it.”
It was fucked up how they had to be stranded on a deserted island to have this conversation. Probably to save Tony some pride, or maybe because he didn’t want someone else to see them together. Steve never really suspected Tony left him for anyone—that much was true now, since Tony had never spoken of anyone else. Then again, Tony knew Steve still loved him. He probably wouldn’t say anything until there was no way to hide it anymore.
“What did I do?” Steve asked quietly, wiping the tears from his face. His momentary weakness was ending, absorbed by the hard foundation he’d spent a year building up for himself when confronted with this pain. “I loved you—I don’t know what I did to make you not want to love me anymore.”
Tony shook his head as Steve pulled away. “It was nothing you did, that’s why I didn’t want to say anything to you. It’s fucked up, Steve. If I had any choice, we’d still be married and everything would be the way it was.”
“So why can’t it be?”
Pain crossed Tony’s face, but also fear. Steve had only seen that look a few times, when the danger seemed so insurmountable that they had no way out. Tony looked away, clearly summoning the courage to speak.
“I don’t remember what day it was—but it was springtime. It was like a movie. Everything glowed—there was like some sort of cinematic dream effect on everything, or maybe that’s just how I remember it now. But I remember waking up, I remember looking over to see that you were already awake, all thoughtful and looking over a briefing or something. And I remember feeling nothing. But some kind of omnipresent nothing—a nothing that came with the expectation of something else. Like a fucked-up dream. Y’know, when the floodgates open and all that ooey-gooey warm fuzzy stuff is supposed to flow, except nothing came instead.”
Steve had no recollection of that morning. He raked his mind to see if there was any time he could have woken up and noticed anything different. He couldn’t recall. But love was blind, all of that.
Tony’s lip quivered, and he passed a hand over his face. “And then you just…you looked up at me and you still had whatever I had lost. I could see it in your eyes, your face. Every part of you still loved me. You smiled all dreamy and instead of feeling the same, I got this awful feeling in my gut, like I was…the closest thing I can equate it to is what it might have felt like to cheat on you and try to live that lie.”
Tony eyed him carefully then, likely looking to see if that was what Steve had suspected all along.
“I knew you didn’t cheat,” Steve said, though he wasn’t sure if he was lying.
Tony frowned, but gave a singular nod. “And it wasn’t like I suddenly didn’t care about you anymore. I know it probably seemed that way. But I couldn’t keep leading you on like that when I could feel that it wasn’t coming back.”
“So you blindsided me.”
Tony swallowed. “Yes. I blindsided you.”
Steve rubbed up and down the side of his arms, trying to comfort himself in some small way.
“That was wrong, but I thought it was best at the time. All of the pain all at once, except I’d be there to help you through it.”
And Tony had been. Steve had slept in his bed many nights during the messy divorce proceedings. He hated himself for those nights now, but at the time he knew he’d needed them. It wasn’t like they had sex, Steve just needed Tony to be there. His biggest fear was that he would lose Tony forever, and Tony made sure that wasn’t the case.
Tony still asked him out for coffee to catch up. Tony still sat beside him at press conferences. Tony still threw him a birthday party and Tony still answered on the first ring whenever Steve called.
Steve couldn’t say he’d done the same.
“Would it be easier if I left?” Tony asked after a moment.
The waves hissed in the distance, and the rain continued to pound against the metal keeping them dry.
“I don’t know.”
Tony leaving would make things easier, Steve knew. He would be able to go about his life without the constant, obsessive thoughts about when he would see his ex-husband again, about if he could possibly win him back, about if he could show Tony that he was moving on. He would be able to have his life back.
Except his life had always revolved around Tony, ever since they had defeated a hoard of aliens trying to destroy New York. His new life had almost always had Tony in it, either on the sidelines checking in with a text or two once in awhile, or the weeks they spent together poring over missions and projects until one day Steve finally just asked him out to dinner.
He didn’t know if he could live comfortably in a world where Tony was there, but not with him. Every time Tony left, Steve waited for him to come back. He saved up trinkets in the form of stories, jokes—even took pictures on his phone just to be able to tell Tony about them.
Because he loved him. Because he would always love him.
Steve supposed it didn’t really matter if Tony loved him back—they had clearly tested that one.
“I don’t think so,” Steve added after a long moment. “But I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this.”
They should have been having this conversation a year ago. Now Steve and Tony both had scarring, their respective wounds healed over.
“Like I said, I don’t want you out of my life,” Tony said. ”You’re still my best friend, I just don’t—“
“You just don’t love me,” Steve finished, brow creasing. “Tony, don’t you get how that hurts when you say that? I understand. Stop repeating it.”
“Sorry.”
A crack of thunder sent the battered ship trembling, and Steve flinched at the noise. He wanted to be home. He didn’t want to be here anymore. All of this needed to be digested on his own.
“I think I need to get some sleep,” Steve said, but the words felt unformed as they fell out of his mouth.
“Tell me what you want, first,” Tony said, his voice verging on pleading.
All of a sudden Steve’s eyes were hot again, itching with tears that were thick with salt.
“God, Tony, I don’t know,” Steve said quietly. “My heart hurts and my head hurts and the more I look at you the more I get this terrible feeling that it’s all gonna end.”
“What’s gonna end?”
“Us,” Steve breathed. “Everything. Those two things are one in the same to me—weren’t they the same for you once too? Was it ever the same for you?”
“Yeah, it was,” Tony whispered. His face was nothing but hard shades of blue, ranging from deep navy to a soft cerulean in the moonlight. “You won’t lose me, Steve.”
Steve shook his head. “I lost the version of you I wanted, Tones. I lost the person who loved me and comforted me and knew me.”
“But you didn’t lose—“
“And what happens when you find someone else?” Steve asked. It was a question he’d been asked a thousand times by everyone who knew them. Because it was one thing to still love a Tony who didn’t love anyone else, but it was an entirely new form of pain to love a man who loved another. “I still get to play pretend that I’m your favorite now. I get to delude myself as much as I want to try to deal with this. But everything is going to come crashing down when you’re with someone else.”
Silence wedged itself between them then, Tony unable to meet his eye.
Steve was so tired. Not physically tired—never physically tired—but exhausted all the same. He wanted to sleep, to curl up alone in the sand and pretend he could face this in the morning.
It was funny how being stranded on an island wasn’t something they even remotely considered to be a problem for them right now. They both knew they would be rescued in a day or less. If they weren’t, Tony would find a way out. They both knew that if anything, Tony had the brains and Steve had equal muscle to back it up. They were in no danger here.
“How’s your head feel?” Steve finally asked, turning his head to rest his cheek on a knee.
Tony looked lost for a moment, but when he blinked, he was back again. “A lot better. But I’m gonna hold off on any real brainpower stuff until dawn.”
Steve suppressed the thought that Tony was holding off in hopes that they could spend more time together. Thoughts like that were poison.
“See, it’s ridiculous, the way I think about you,” Steve said. “I still want to ask you if we can sleep together out here, and pretend it’s to stay warm.”
“If you think about it, a lot of the things we used to ask each other are ridiculous to me,” Tony said with a little snort. “People are weird when they’re in love. Half the stuff we did together seems so silly to me now.”
Steve actually smiled, though the heat came to his eyes again. “I could spend a week solid with you and I’d still feel jealous when you left to go work with Bruce for two hours.”
“And I’d throw out plans with Rhodey that I’d made weeks ago if you ever texted me that you wanted to see me.” Tony gave a little roll of his eyes. “God, Rhodes would get so pissed.”
“I remember getting nervous before I asked you to go on stupid adventures,” Steve continued, chewing his bottom lip. “Like when I made up that stupid story about how there was that really fancy smoothie place four hours away and how Bucky bailed on going with me?”
“And it was closed!”
They shared a tentative laugh, but one that fell off to pain at the edges.
The metal of the Quinjet wing groaned above them in the force of the wind. Tony chewed the inside of his cheek, glancing around their shelter.
“It really wouldn’t be a bad idea to sleep together,” he finally said. “Just in case this thing falls down on top of us. You could soften the blow.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but laid down, hands folded behind his head. His hip was just brushing the edge of Tony’s pants—a touch that small meant so much now. Now that they had trained themselves to avoid everything about each other.
Tony sank back in the sand, curving himself just so that he fit in all of the spaces Steve had created between them. His head rested against Steve’s arm, and Steve closed his eyes, bracing himself for the familiar scent that washed over him just a moment later.
Still Tony. Still the man he loved.
“If there ever is someone else,” Tony whispered. “We’ll figure it out. You hear me? And if they try to take me away from you, I’ll choose you every time.”
Steve’s eyes flicked open, a frown etched into his features. “You can’t do that, Tones.”
Tony’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah, I can, Spangles.”
“Before you do it then, you need to tell me.”
Tony shook his head. “Nah. Then you’ll say something that’ll keep me on the right track. I don’t need that anymore. I gotta make my bad decisions.”
Steve smiled slightly, his eyes falling closed again. “And you don’t love me.”
“That wasn’t a decision,” Tony murmured. “If it were, I’d have reversed it by now.”
Yeah, right. Steve didn’t think it would be all that difficult for Tony to fall back in love with him if he actually wanted to. That didn’t even make sense. If someone wanted to fall in love with another person, how couldn’t it happen? The hard part in that case would be getting the other person to love them back. In their case, Tony had no issue there and he knew it.
“Goodnight, Tones,” Steve finally said, closing his eyes as another rumble of thunder shook the wing above them.
“Night, Steve,” Tony replied a moment later.
Steve fell asleep knowing full well that Tony was watching his face, searching for something there.
Steve hoped he would find it, whatever it was.
Morning came with the sound of chopper blades.
Steve sat up, instinctively turning himself just slightly to protect Tony if he needed to. He felt Tony shift in the sand beside him, moving up to his elbows. Steve knew he should have probably moved to get a weapon in case their guests weren’t friendly, but he couldn’t find the will.
“We okay?” Tony croaked, blinking in the light.
“Stay quiet,” Steve murmured, peering out at the beach.
Tony’s hand fell over his, and Steve pretended not to notice.
Their fingers twined together a moment later, and Steve swallowed hard, already knowing what this meant. He glanced over at Tony, and they shared a look that Steve couldn’t decipher in words or thoughts.
But his heart knew. It clenched impossibly tight for just one moment, and then relaxed. Let go.
A bitter taste slid down the back of Steve’s throat, and when it mixed with the affection in his chest, it created a cocktail of pain that could only be described as lukewarm. Just enough, but not enough.
“Steve?”
Natasha’s voice.
“In here,” Steve called, sitting up completely.
He released Tony’s hand.
“Tony’s in here too.”
Natasha’s face appeared in the opening of their shelter and she smiled slightly upon seeing them. Steve couldn’t read anything else in her eyes, but he was certain she was trying to put the pieces together.
“You guys okay?” Natasha asked. “Any injuries?”
“No—“ Tony started.
“Tony probably has a concussion,” Steve told her, cutting him off. “He hasn’t walked yet since the impact, so lifting him out would probably be best.”
“That’s hardly necessary,” Tony grumbled, sitting up completely. “I’m fine. Little spaced out because I just woke up and I haven’t had a drink of water in a day and a half, but I’m fine.”
“I’ll get a stretcher to carry him,” Natasha said with a nod to Steve.
“Good to see you too, Nat,” Tony shouted after her.
Steve stood up, brushing the sand off his pants.
“Steve,” Tony said, his voice having lost all of the show he’d given Natasha.
Steve sighed, but lifted his gaze to meet Tony’s.
“I just wanted to say—“
“Stop right there,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I think it’s better that we don’t talk about that stuff anymore. If we’re going to stay close.”
“That’s not very healthy.”
Steve laughed. “Yeah, well, neither is staying close. But I’m gonna do it, because I love you. And I think you’ll do it too because as much as you don’t think it’s the same anymore, you love me too. But I get why you don’t want to say it to me, and I think that’s for the best.”
Tony’s smile twitched with a glimpse of something like despair. But he nodded.
Natasha appeared with a thick plastic board, and Tony did plenty of complaining while Steve and Natasha helped him onto it and secured him. Natasha took the half with Tony’s head, while Steve got the end with Tony’s feet. They lifted on three and headed for the chopper that sat idle on the beach.
Once Tony was loaded in, Natasha stepped back with a little smile. “I’m gonna go blow everything up. You two have some water and relax a minute. You both look like shit.”
Steve sat down on the edge of the helicopter and squinted as he looked out over the too-white sand and the beautiful expanse of ocean beyond. He didn’t look away when he heard the Velcro tearing as Tony freed himself to grab a bottle of water.
“They don’t even stock rescue choppers with name brand,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself.
Steve closed his eyes as the wind washed over him, his lips slightly parted to taste the salt in the air.
“Here,” Tony said, and Steve felt the press of a cold water bottle against his arm. “Just because you’re all super soldier-y doesn’t mean you don’t get dehydrated.”
Steve chuckled and accepted the bottle.
When he looked over, he met Tony’s eyes. They were the same warm brown, with the same welcoming aura he’d always been drawn to.
But it ended there, this time.
Steve’s heart didn’t press hard against his ribs, his breathing didn’t thin with affection, his eyes didn’t even move to take in more. He just loved Tony. He loved the man he’d married and the man who’d divorced him. He loved the person he was and who he had been.
And when Tony smiled, Steve smiled too. And it was real, and it was warm.
This time, he was happy.
Their conversation the night before hadn’t been anything special. Crashing on a deserted island hadn’t even been anything that would bring them closer together. Nothing new had really been exchanged between them. There was no cataclysmic event that tore them to their core like Steve had always been expecting.
Tony just smiled at him, and Steve just smiled back.
“You’re an idiot,” Steve said, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. “Name brand. C’mon.”
Tony’s laugh was a joyous sound. It didn’t bring Steve any pain in that moment.
Tony loved him, and Steve loved Tony. That was the way it had been before, and that was the way it was now. It was a different love now, but it was still the same in foundation.
And as Steve watched Tony explain how water that wasn’t name brand could have any number of harmful additives—additives that might as well be poison, Steve—he knew that this would be enough.
Somehow, they would still be enough.
The Avengers compound was quiet, a betrayal of the power underneath that roof. Night had fallen long ago, and Vision was fairly certain that the mission to rescue Tony and Steve had been successful. Wanda was no longer worried, so he knew he didn’t need to ask. They were both safe, and coming back to the compound in a matter of hours, or perhaps days, depending on where they had been found.
“It’s getting more difficult,” Wanda said, distracted.
Vision followed her gaze to the window, watching the grass sway in the nighttime breeze with perfect clarity. Sometimes it was difficult for him to remember the difference between night and day.
“I feel that too,” he replied. “But it is so much easier than before, and we have to remember that.”
“But what if it isn’t right?” Wanda asked, absently twirling a string of red energy between her fingers. She looked up at him, testing him.
“I have known Stark a long time,” Vision said in careful monotone. “And while he may make self-destructive decisions in moments of deep pain or weakness, he displayed none of those traits when he asked us this.”
Wanda considered his words for a moment, but didn’t seem satisfied.
“And what are the chances he’s just become a better liar?”
Vision blinked, then shook his head. “Impossible.”
Wanda didn’t seem convinced. She balled the energy in her palm before sending it into the air to burst in a tiny firework.
“Even now, I feel him fighting me.”
Vision closed his eyes and focused. He could feel the same tug, the same confusion, the same hurt. Wanda touched his wrist and it intensified to a level that made him shift with discomfort.
“He told us this was what he wanted,” Vision murmured. “I trust that he knows that this is what’s best.”
Wanda released him of her touch. “For who?”
Vision’s eyes opened to give her a look. “For both of them.”
“He said it would take a year or so. It’s been a year and he still fights us,” Wanda said. “At what point do we decide to stop hefting his burden?”
“When it no longer serves to protect us, or when it no longer serves to protect them.”
Vison’s brow furrowed when Wanda laughed at that, and she shook her head. She reached over to the side table to pour herself another glass of wine. Her third, if he was remembering correctly. And he always remembered correctly.
“Protection. If I were only doing this to protect them, I would have let him go long ago.”
Vision cocked his head. “Then why haven’t you?”
She looked at him then, her smile bittersweet.
“Because I share his pain.” She swirled her wine in its glass. “How terrible it must be to know that you will be the one to leave first. That there is no other way. To carry that weight each day, to build something so beautiful and know that you will be the one to destroy it. Would you not want to fall from the cornerstone rather than the peak?”
Something twinged in his chest, but it was an emotion Vision couldn’t yet categorize. He was still learning, and catalogued it away to reflect on later, once he’d learned more of this world.
“I don’t know,” he finally responded.
“Yes, you do,” Wanda said, smiling down at her wine. “Tell me.”
Vision frowned. “I think I would rather fall from the peak. At least that way you will have lived what would have only ever been fantasy had you stopped at the foundation. You would have something to cherish before meeting your demise.”
Wanda touched his hand again, and he closed his eyes as the pain washed over him anew. Worst was the confusion. It reminded Vision of the way Tony had come to him in the dark.
“Please make it go away,” he had asked quietly. “Not tomorrow, not next week. I don’t care when, but don’t tell me. And I want to forget I asked. Can you do that for me?”
Vision’s eyes opened, his chest tight. “Why would he ask for this?”
Wanda’s face was downcast. “I thought I knew, but maybe you know more than I do.”
“He warned us this might happen,” Vision said quietly. “We have to stay the course. For the betterment of both of them.”
Wanda set her glass of wine aside, lost in thought. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t cause Steve so much pain.”
“But his pain is fading, which is why we must stay the course,” Vision reaffirmed. “It’s too late to turn back now.”
He waited for an argument, but there was none. Wanda just gave a small shake of her head, defeated. It was better this way. For the team.
For Vision, it was easy to remove emotion from the matter and see clearly that this was the best choice. Tony’s productivity and innovation had significantly decreased since Steve’s entry into his life. More so after their marriage. As Tony had argued that night, the world needed his work in order to stay ahead. Steve was going to live most of his life without him anyway, so it was best to stop this now.
Vision couldn’t consider the emotional aspects, or else the argument fell apart.
“So we will continue to withhold from Tony what made him most happy,” Wanda murmured.
“Because he asked us to,” Vision added quietly.
She looked at him, her eyes clouded with deep pain. “Yes, because he asked us to.”
Even as they agreed, Vision recalled that night. The night Wanda had slipped into Tony’s bedroom while he waited for Steve to return, the night Vision himself had helped her seal off Tony’s whole life from his body. How Tony hadn’t even felt it as he put away one of his fancy watches—or so Vision had told Wanda after taking her from the room when it was finished.
But he had seen. The moment they had completed their task, how Tony had paused, how he had brought a hand to his heart for just moment, the way humans sometimes did upon realizing they were no longer wearing a piece of jewelry they always had on.
As though he’d lost something dear to him. Something fond.
Vision had seen the light pulled from Tony’s eyes.
Yet Tony had chosen this in order to keep Steve safe from himself at the inevitable end of Tony’s mortal life. Vision had agreed that was wise when Tony first asked him to take away what was most dear to him.
But as Vision sat back against his chair, he wondered if it was truly worth it.
They would have to hope it was.