All I Want For Christmas

“…to blame for this catastrophe? The clear answer is Tony Stark…”

Rhodey called the news anchor every bad name he could think of and switched channels, resisting the urge to throw the damn remote at their state-of-the-art television. The next news station wasn’t any better.

“…the cost, both human and monetary, is beyond comprehension. So why, I ask you, are we not demanding compensation from the one person who is to blame?”

Thankfully, Tony wasn’t home. He’d texted Rhodey an hour earlier, promising that he was finishing up his business at the Tower and would head his direction as soon as humanly possible.

After Ultron, his husband had withdrawn into himself like he hadn’t in years. Some days, the former colonel couldn’t find anything recognizable in Tony's eyes. Some days, Tony disappeared into this workshop for hours, eventually wandering out with bruised hands and hunched shoulders…

His phone dinged, drawing him out of his thoughts. It was Tony, of course.

Omw, have to pick up a few things first. Love u

Love you too, Rhodey sent back, and smiled. They had a long weekend together; Pepper knew that they spent Christmas together, and she always made sure to clear out her boss's schedule no matter how many projects and people were vying for his time.

He was at a loss, Rhodey admitted to himself. He wasn’t sure how to fix this, how to get things back to the way they were before. Not just before Ultron, but before the Avengers too. They weren’t the same people that they were, and while he knew that was a normal part of being alive, some part of himself that he didn’t want to acknowledge was terrified that they were growing apart.

That thought was almost too much to bear. He shivered, shook his head violently. No.

The sound of his phone receiving a text drew him back to reality. He half-expected, his heart heavy, for it to be Tony cancelling their weekend. Thankfully, it wasn’t that. Rhodey felt himself smiling at his phone. Thank God his plans for Tony's surprise had come together.

The front door started to open, and Rhodey cursed under his breath. He hadn’t heard Tony pull up, which wasn’t unusual since his husband always drove an entirely forgettable and quiet vehicle to their hideaway.

He jumped up to help Tony with anything he might be carrying- presents? Food? The latter was unlikely, as the genius had slipped back into his old habit of forgetting to eat.

“Hi, honey bear. I’m home.”

Tony looked absolutely exhausted, and older, somehow. Rhodey moved to give him a hug, only to notice that Tony was clutching a gallon bucket of paint in each hand. “Let me take those from you, Tones,” he said gently. “Are we painting the basement?”

“I need to make a change,” Tony replied vaguely, his gaze distant.

He had bought two different colors, the first a gentle blue like the spring sky, and the second a light grey.

“The kitchen…” Tony continued after a short pause. “I wasn’t sure what color you’d like but I had to get something.”

Currently, their kitchen was a deep, rich crimson. It had been an inside joke between them, an echo of Iron Man's colors. Now that Rhodey looked at it with critical eyes, he noticed that it almost, almost resembled blood.

“I like the grey.”

That got an approximation of a smile out of Tony.

“Are you thirsty, baby?” Tony nodded. “Hot chocolate okay with you?” Another nod.

Rhodey went to work on their complicated coffee-maker. The thing could brew liters of coffee without breaking a proverbial sweat, but it seemed to have a grudge against the former colonel. It beeped angrily at him as he touched the buttons, and he was about to voice his thoughts to his husband when Tony started speaking.

“You watched the news recently?” Tony's voice cracked, and he took a huge gulp of air before going on. “’Course you have. You’ve seen what every single news station is saying, and they aren't wrong.”

Before Rhodey could open his mouth to object, his husband plunged on. “I made Ultron, thus Sokovia rests on my shoulders. Not entirely…I’m not that egotistical. He gave a hard laugh that sounded like it hurt deep in his chest. “I’m going to make it right.”

The last sentence was a cold statement, thin threads of sadness and anger and pure hurt running through his voice.

“The grey- it’s very ‘War Machine’. I thought you’d pick this one, but I wanted to give you options.” Rhodey felt like he had mental whiplash from the sudden turn of emotions. Tony sounded bright, cheery suddenly, like he was making an effort.

“Tony…” he began cautiously, turning his back on the cantankerous machine. “Tony, baby…”

Tony's hand shot up in the air, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “If I can guess what you’re going to say, will you just not?” Rhodey gave a quick nod. “I’m thinking you were gonna say something along the lines of ‘it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. We are all to blame for this terrible catastrophe.’ Am I right?”

“Please, Tones. I don’t want to get in a fight over this.”

“Neither do I. But I can’t just forget. I can see Sokovia burning every time I close my eyes. Ultron mocks me in my dreams, and I’m reminded of how I failed at every interview, every time someone looks at me with disgust and hatred.”

Abandoning the coffee machine, Rhodey sprinted across the kitchen and pulled his husband into his arms. Tony let out a choked sob and buried his head in Rhodey’s shoulder. “Do you want to paint the kitchen tonight?”

Mumbling something incoherent, Tony shrugged.

“It's up to you, baby. We can paint, we can watch a movie, we can cuddle. Whatever you want, alright?”

“What if I want to braid your hair and tell horror stories?”

Rhodey laughed. “That’s just fine with me.”

“You’re too good for me, Slim Jim.” Tony pulled away and stared into his husband's eyes.

“You deserve the best of everything, Rhodey replied seriously. “I'm a lucky man.”

Tony finally smiled. “That’s true. So am I.”

They stood interlocked, swaying back and forth to a song only they could hear, until the doorbell rang.

“Are you expecting company?” Rhodey shook his head, fighting to keep a serious expression in place. “Huh. It's times like these that I wish I had a disguise to wear to answer the door.”

“You should’ve got Groucho Marx glasses like I suggested. Or you could throw a towel over your head.”

“If it’s reporters, I can’t promise that I won’t dropkick them straight off the porch.”

Laughing at that mental image, Rhodey gently pushed Tony away. “Go see who it is. When you come back, your hot chocolate will be ready and waiting for you.”

“Promises, promises.”

As soon as the door was open, Rhodey heard the visitors announce “Merry Christmas!” Tony gave a strangled gasp as they began to sing. The former colonel collected the mugs he had stashed in the sink and filled them with hot chocolate, balancing them on a tray.

Tony was standing out on their porch, staring at the carolers with his mouth hanging open as they transitioned from “O Come O Come Emmanuel” to “Silent Night.” He didn’t seem to notice the freezing air or the snowflakes drifting down and sizzling when they struck the candles each of the carolers held in their gloved hands.

They paused and accepted the hot chocolate from Rhodey. “Thank you!” the leader of the small group said cheerfully.

“No, thank you,” Tony replied thickly, eyes shining.

“We got one more song for ya. Any requests?”

“’All I Want For Christmas is You'.”

Rhodey put one arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him against his chest. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered.

The carolers drank the last of their hot chocolate and gave the mugs back to Rhodey. “Thank you,” Tony said softly, his eyes bright. He threw his arms around his husband, careful not to knock the mugs out of his hands. “Thank you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. Snowflakes had settled in his air and his cheeks were pink from the cold; Rhodey didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

They remained interlocked as they went back inside; Rhodey reluctantly pulled away to deposit the dirty dishes in the sink.

Tony stood still for several seconds before sitting down at the kitchen table. He seemed lost in thought, his hands folded in front of him on the scarred wood, which could be a good or very bad thing. He did look up when Rhodey sat across from him. “Thank you,” he said for the third time.

“You’re welcome, Tones.”

“You remembered that I told you about the carolers that I loved when I was little. You listened…” His voice took on an almost incredulous tone.

“I always listen to you, babe.”

“I never thought I would have this.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak, letting his husband collect his thoughts.

“This….us, always seemed too good to last,” Tony eventually went on, gazing at some spot over Rhodey's head. “And yet…here we are.”

“I’m going to be here for you forever, Tones. Til death do us part.” He leaned across their kitchen table, took Tony's hands in his. “I'll love you as long as I’m alive, and into whatever comes after.”