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thecitylightshow · 6 years

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Beloved

For the wonderful @ishipallthings, yet again. Part of my new series “Write Your Name On My Heart (It’s Already There)” - a soulmate AU where when you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmates. It can be found on Ao3 here.

Steve wakes up on the morning of his 18th birthday and takes a moment to just breathe.

He never thought he’d make it to 18, and he’s still not convinced that he’s going to have a soulmate. He’s scrawny and mouthy and has spent half his life in a hospital, either ill or being patched up from a fight. He’s been doodling on his skin all his life, practicing and making notes – but from today on, theoretically, those doodles might appear on someone’s skin. He might have someone’s doodles on his. He’s almost scared to look-

(Mobile users, beware the read more!)

A tell-tale itch sweeps over his left forearm, and Steve brings his arm up to watch, wide-eyed, as words dance across his skin. Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! it reads, in thick, scruffy scrawl. Steve stares at it in shock for a moment, before scrambling out of bed with a whoop.

“Steven?” his ma asks, shocked but smiling as he barrels into the kitchen, still shirtless with his pyjamas pooling around his ankles.

“I need a pen!” he’s grinning so hard his face hurts. “Pen, pen pen!” he chants, searching through the pile of papers to the side of the table to find one. Sarah dips to kiss his cheeks, but turns back to where she’s cooking at the stove as he pulls one victoriously from the pile.

Thank you soulmate! Steve writes back in his own spidery scrawl. Happy 4th of July! He sits down at the table, and watches with bated breath for a reply. Sarah sets the customary birthday pancakes in front of him, and when he glances up at her, she’s grinning with tears in her eyes – apparently Steve hadn’t been the only one worried. He glances back down, in time to see part of “birthday” smudge and run down like- is his soulmate crying? Steve is about to ask when a reply starts to dance under his own. !!!!! is all it says at first, and Steve can’t help but laugh. It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Tony, and you are?

I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too!

Tony has to take a deep breath before he writes on his skin each morning.

It’s been so many days since he turned eighteen – eight hundred and three, to be exact – and he’s never had a response. Howard says they don’t want him or he doesn’t have one, and the look in Maria’s eyes says that she thinks his soulmate is already dead. Rhodey promises him that he’s just the older one of the two of them, that that’s all it is, but he’s 20 now. He’s got one PhD and he’s already planning his next, he’s going to revolutionise robotics and artificial intelligence – Stark Industries will go far when he’s at the helm, with the fiery Pepper Potts at his side – but all he’s ever wanted is to be loved. He didn’t get it from his parents and he didn’t get it from his peers… Jarvis died when he was too young to have made the most of what he had in him, and now…

He expels all his resentment for the universe on a single breath, and reaches for the pen he keeps on his bedside table specifically for this purpose. He’s at Rhodey’s parents for the holiday, and the sentimentally of the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family makes him chose ‘beloved’ today.

Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! He writes, and then he caps the pen and puts it down, pulling on his shirt and heading downstairs – he can smell the pancakes Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, is making.

He’s halfway down the stairs when his arm begins to itch, and he stops dead, yanking up his sleeve. Thank you soulmate! is being scrawled hastily. Happy 4th of July! follows it, and Tony yelps. He scrambles back up the stairs for the pen, ignoring Rhodey as he calls worriedly up the stairs.

He’s crying, he can’t help it, but it’s been two years of waiting and waiting and hoping. Initially all he can put is a shaky few exclamation marks, just to let his soulmate know he’s here. He’s here, and they’re never going to have to wonder like he did. It’s so good to finally meet you! It’s shaky, but he can’t even care. I’m Tony, and you are? he asks, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed.

“Tony? You okay?” Rhodey calls out from the stairs, and Tony hastily tries to wipe his eyes as I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too! appears in spidery scrawl that Tony loves already. “Tony?” Rhodey asks as he appears in the doorway. Tony grins up at him, so hard that his face hurts. “What’s-?” he starts to ask, but the itch on Tony’s arm starts up again and draws both their gazes. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Tony can’t help but laugh.

You had me worried there, I’ll admit. But it’s worth it. He’s still grinning as Rhodey tugs him up off the bed – the pen’s barely clear of his skin – to hug him so tight his feet leave the ground. Rhodey’s laughing and Tony’s laughing as he buries face in Rhodey’s shoulder. “Today’s the day.” He mumbles into Rhodey’s shoulder, and Rhodey presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Today’s the day!” He replies, and Tony feels like he could burst he’s so happy. Rhodey lets him go, squeezing his shoulder and heading back downstairs. I hope you continue to think that Steve’s written while they’ve been hugging. Tony’s too busy grinning at it that he yelps, taken by surprise, when Rhodey comes back to drag him down the stairs. “Bring the pen with you, idiot.”

I will, I just know it. It’s disjointed as he’s writing while Rhodey drags him, but once he’s down the stairs Rhodey lets him go. I mean you’re a dude, so you’re already off to a good start he adds, and hopes it makes Steve laugh.

“What’s got you distracted son?” David Rhodes asks him, gruff but smiling as he steers Tony into the kitchen to sit at the table.

“Just my soulmate.” Tony tells him, happy to see how his face lights up before he, too, tugs Tony into something of a bear hug. That made my ma laugh, is there when Tony looks again. Glad to know the feeling’s mutual. Tony grins.

“I’m so happy for you son.” David tells him, clapping him on the shoulder quite like Rhodey does, and taking his seat.

“What’s that?” Roberta asks idly from the stove, but Tony lets Rhodey explain, scrawling out a reply. So mutual, you have no idea. Pretty boys are my weakness. “Oh Tony!” She exclaims when Rhodey’s told, and she kisses both his cheeks before she returns to the cooking.

“Maybe you should exchange phone numbers? Before you run out of space?” Rhodey asks, smirking, and Tony’s too happy to do any more than stick his tongue at him and tack Text me? And his number on the end. His phone – a modded to shit thing that has a lot of duct tape holding it together until he can fabricate a case – is in his pocket, and a few moments later it chirrups.

From: Unknown 09:43

I don’t think anyone would describe me as cute – Steve xxxxx

Tony saves him as ‘Beloved Steve’ before he can second guess himself, and then replies.

To: Beloved Steve 09:44

I bet I would – Tony xxxxxxxxxx

From: Beloved Steve 09:44

Would you? Xx

Attached to it is a picture, and Tony takes a moment to load it up – there’s two people in the photo, and Steve hasn’t mentioned which one he is. One of them is a tall brunet, with his hair pulled back into a pony tail and a lot of muscles under a basketball kit. He’s got a sharp angular face and stormy grey eyes – he’s undeniably gorgeous, but he’s not Tony’s type.

Now the other guy in the picture is scrawny, and has bandages over his knuckles like he’d punched something too hard. He’s got no muscles to speak of and the clothes that hang off him are covered in paint splatters. He’s got long fingers, and again his face is angular – he’s borderline unhealthily gaunt, but there’s defiance on his face even as he grins at the other guy, and his eyes are so blue. His hair flops in front of his face, and Tony can already picture those fingers pushing those golden strands out of the way. He likes what he can dream, very much.

To: Beloved Steve 09:47

Tell me that you’re the blond?!! Xxxxxx

The reply doesn’t come back as quick as the previous one, and Tony chalks it up to Steve celebrating his birthday with his family. It probably has nothing to do with Tony’s message – god, what if Steve’s the basketball hunk and sent that picture to make himself look good?? He shakes his head a little (he’s not really paying attention to the discussion at the breakfast table, but then he doesn’t think any of them expect him to, not today) and dispels the idea. He’d never be soulmated to someone like that. No, Steve’s the blond. He has to be.

From: Beloved Steve 09:55

You’re kidding, right? Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 09:56

Fuck no. Brunet’s cute and all, but blondie’s gorgeous. Maybe needs to eat a few decent meals, but god… I could lose myself in those baby blues xxxxx

Tony’s fingers stumble over themselves to get the reply typed. He can feel the back of his neck heat up as he types the words, but the blush will never reach his face, thank god. The words feel like too much, but they’re the truth, and he knows if the roles were reversed he’d appreciate it.

From: Beloved Steve 10:02

… you mean that? Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 10:03

I really do. Unless I got it wrong then brunet’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Xxxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 10:03

But seriously, I adore blond’s and muscles are overrated. Give me some brains and a decent sense of humour any day. <3

He curses under his breath for making the joke – way to play into any insecurity Steve might have there – but he’s trying. It’s only day one, they’ve got plenty of time.

From: Beloved Steve 10:17

You have no idea what that means to me. Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 10:17

I think I have a small one… but hey, you get to tell me one day. ^u^ xxxxx

From: Beloved Steve 10:19

Yeah. Yeah I do. :D xxxxx

Tony grins down at his phone. They’ll do just fine.

To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:37

You know, when I was younger, I used to pretend the fireworks were for me. Xxxxxx

Steve sends off the message without much thought. Tomorrow he’s going to have to find a way to increase the number of texts he gets a month – when it was just Bucky and Natasha bothering him, 500 a month was fine, but if this rate of conversation keeps up (and Steve hopes so much that it does) he and Tony will go through all his texts by tomorrow evening. Steve’s not complaining.

From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:38

That’s actually pretty funny. And cute. But mostly funny. Xxxxx

To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:39

I was six! How would I know they weren’t celebrating my birthday? Xxxxx

Steve can tell that Tony’s going to laugh at that, and he’s grinning at his phone. He’s been grinning at it all day, and seeing his mother smile every time he does. It’s a relief to both of them, and Steve hadn’t been thinking about it for the last two years but the metaphorical weight off his shoulders is palpable. He’s got a soulmate. He can’t get over that.

From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:39

I would’ve been, if I’d known. And now I do. Xxxxx

Steve could feel his cheeks heat up – Tony has been so completely sincere all day, around the jokes and the teasing. The honesty was refreshing – people just weren’t that honest in everyday life – and it made Tony seem that much more real somehow. So far, he was everything Steve would have dreamed of if he'd let himself.

To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:40

And now you do <3 xxxxx

#tony stark #steve rogers #soulmate au #stevetony #thecitywritesshow

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itsallavengers · 7 years

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The Intervention

“Um, guys? What’s going on?”

Clint looked solemnly toward Tony, shaking his head sadly as he watched the man stumble forward, brow set in confusion as he took in the setting around him.

The communal living room was filled with all the friends that the team had been able to find, and together, they had procured a large banner and written the word INTERVENTION in big black lettering, hanging it from the ceiling as they all stood solemnly underneath it.

It was time they sorted this. It had reached the limit, and none of the team could handle it any more.

(beware the read more, mobile users!)

“Tony, you know that we love you, very much. Before this begins, we want you to know that,” Bruce said softly.

“Ohhkaaayy,” Tony said slowly, beginning to undo his tie a little as he scanned the room. “Hey, where’s my h-”

“DON’T!” Everyone else in the room suddenly screamed, and Tony jolted in surprise, stumbling back a few steps as he lost his balance.

“What the fuck is the problem, guys?” Tony asked incredulously, and god, wasn’t that just a punch in the gut to everyone in the room; he didn’t even realise how bad it had become.

The Avengers, who were all stood at the front of the crowd, slowly pulled out sheets of paper from their pockets, looking seriously at Tony as he flailed his hands in confusion, completely unaware of what they were going to have to discuss.

Taking a deep breath, Clint was the first to step forward, glancing down at the paper in his hands and looking to Nat, who nodded solemnly.

They had to do this. For Tony.

“This is an intervention,” he began, before tony cut him off.

“Yeah, I know it’s an intervention, what I’m wondering was what the fuck it concerned-”

“Don’t you see it? Tony, this is pretty hard to miss-”

“There is nothing to miss! I’m fine!” Tony yelled, throwing his hands into the air.

There was silence and the room, and then a collective sigh seemed to ripple across the crowd. “Tony-” Clint began, pausing for a moment, and biting his lip.

“You have got to stop referring to Steve as your husband at every possible opportunity.”

Tony froze, hands mid-wave, the gold band around his finger glinting in the afternoon light. “What.” “We can’t deal with it any more! Bruce admitted, running a hand through his hair, and then looking down to his sheet. “It was okay at first. When you first got hitched, we were willing to let it slide. it would only be when you two were caught up in each other, and that was okay.That was manageable”

Nat stepped forward at this point, looking at Tony seriously as she read off her page. “Then it started happening more regularly. You’d refer to him as ‘my husband’ when you were looking for him, or when you wanted his attention. A lot of the time, you would do it when he wasn’t even in the room.”

Thor piped up this time, “Tony- we have found ourselves accidentally referring to Steve as our husband just by exposure to your comments. This makes us feel rather odd and embarrassed. It must stop.”

Tony stared at them all, before scoffing. “It is not that bad-”

“You now regularly call him ‘My Star-Spangled Husband’ in your mission reports. Fury had to burn at least five different copies last week alone. Which mean this is now affecting the environment, not to mention the sensitivities of all SHIELD agents that have to go through them,” Coulson stepped forward gravely.

“Oh, come on-”

“There have barely been more than five consecutive minutes of you talking to me where you haven't dropped in a ‘husband’ somewhere, Tony. I can’t imagine how it must be for the team to go through this, every day,” Pepper told him, placing a hand on Thor’s shoulder supportively as he looked on sadly, shaking his head a little.

When the fucking pizza-delivery guy stepped forward to put his word in, Tony finally put his foot down, yelling loudly and slicing his hand through the air to silence them all.

“ENOUGH! Fine! I may excessively call my h- Steve- that. But you know what? I DON’T GIVE A FUCK! He’s my fucking husband, so I’m going to call him whatever I please for as long as it pleases me-”

“Tony, you’ve got to understand how it affects us-” Clint begged.

“What would you rather I called him? Because I can think of a hell of a lot more sickly sweet names than that; what about ‘my love’? Or ‘Cute-Ass’? What about shawty, you think Steve will like that-”

“NO!” Everyone yelled again, and Tony laughed, fingers dancing over the smooth gold band that circled his finger.

He couldn’t even feel annoyed at his friends. He was still riding the post-marrige high, as he had been for the past month.

So instead of yelling at them, he simply skipped over to them and threw himself into the crowd, knowing that they’d keep him from plummeting on to the floor.

“Don’t worry you guys, you’ll all soon have husbands and wives of your own. No need to feel jealous, your time will come,” he promised them, cackling as the whole group groaned in frustration.

“Please, please stop. I’ll pay you so much money,” Clint begged.

Tony looked him dead in the eye, before saying “I’m not sure my husband would approve of that.”

Clint looked like he was going to start crying. Tony cackled again.

“What the hell is going on?” Came a voice from behind them all, and Tony felt an involuntary smile creep up his face as he registered the voice.

“Oh, it’s my husband! Stevie, baby, sweetheart, darling, honey-pie, could-bounce-a-quarter-off-that-ass-Rogers! Listen, my love; our friends are staging an intervention!” He called out delightedly, ignoring the shove he received from Clint in order to turn and run toward Steve, jumping theatrically into his husband’s arms.

“What?” Steve asked confusedly, whilst kissing Tony’s forehead in greeting.

“They’re all grumpy because we’re too affectionate and it makes their emotionally constipated asses uncomfortable,” Tony whispered quietly into his ear.

Of course, at those words, a cheeky little grin spread across Steve’s face, and he looked down at Tony, who was nestled safely in his arms, and cocked his eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Really.”

Steve looked up, right into the middle of his group of friends, for a good five seconds. It seemed Natasha had some sort of premonition concerning what was about to happen, because she suddenly turned on her heel and left the room very swiftly.

Unluckily, the others were not quite as perceptive.

“Well, we can’t have them feeling uncomfortable, can we?” He asked, his face straight and deadpan as anything.

“That would just be rude,” Tony agreed.

There was a brief pause, before Steve suddenly lifted Tony out of the bridal-carry and turned him, until his hands were holding Tony up by the ass, lips crashing into Tony’s messily as he moaned. Loudly.

“Mmm, oh, darlin’,” Steve groaned, walking easily with Tony toward the group of people, who quickly started scattering, yelling and moaning in despair as they watched Steve squeeze his hands against Tony’s ass.

They briefly stopped, and Tony took the opportunity to briefly remove his mouth from Steve’s and grab at Clint, in order to pull him in and smack a wet kiss to his lips.

Clint screamed.

Tony didn’t even get a chance to laugh, before Steve had pulled him back in, continuing to move until his knees hit the side of the couch and they both fell backwards, landing on the pillows with a dull thud. Tony ended up straddling Steve’s hips while they made out obnoxiously loudly on the couch.

The room cleared pretty quickly after that.

For the next month, both Steve and Tony made as much effort as they could to only use pet-names for one another. A ‘sweetheart’ here, a ‘my love’ there. There was even a memorable month or so where Steve called Tony ‘doll’, and Tony answered with a ridiculously accentuated ‘sugar’. The team groaned each and every time, but it did nothing to deter them.

Eventually, it stopped being a joke.

Neither of them had called the other by their actual name in years.

____

@ishipallthings ,,, so this happened

#stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #avengers #marvel #PETNAMES #YES #WHOOOO #I loved writing this #ficlet #drabbles #itsallavengers writes

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kayvsworld · 7 years

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ishipallthings replied to your post “me: yeah i don’t have that many playlists on my spotify haha also me:...”

oooooh.... what's on your post-ca:cw roadtrip playlist?

https://open.spotify.com/user/22p66bekzn5mtwhs6wqkppieq/playlist/4UJbKRUhsHWAE6uJ3d6hPm

i’m not sure,,,if that,,,works,,do you have spotify? it’s a bit longer and,,it’s essentially like. songs to listen to when you get the crap kicked out of you and your team ditches you and you get into your car and Drive To Malibu to see the place where your house fell into the ocean

#ishipallthings #as one does #kayvswords #also: just sort of. one of two post-cacw themed playlists for art purposes

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earliebirb · 4 years

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too close for comfort

I kinda combined the following two prompts from an anon and @ishipallthings into one fic. I hope you guys don’t mind!

Sorry it’s taking me a century to go through all the prompts in my inbox. 😔

I hope you enjoy the fic! 🤍

too close for comfort

steve/tony, fluff, getting together, 2532 words

It was born out of a genuine desire to help, but as with many things in his life, Tony soon finds that the situation is rapidly spiraling out of his control.

It all started because Steve had looked so goddamn sad all the time. The guy seemed to have the tendency to turn every single negative emotion inwards and Tony just couldn’t stand seeing him wound up so tight anymore, like if someone were to poke him in the wrong way he would just snap one day.

So maybe when Steve was seated at the dining table one day, shoulders hunched in on himself and a grim expression on his face, Tony’s resolve to just leave the man alone finally broke and he asked, between sips of his fifth cup of coffee of the day:

“Cap?”

Blue eyes turned his way, ever wary and apprehensive.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but—” Tony set his MIT mug down on the counter and took a fortifying breath. “Do you want a hug?”

Steve blinked a few times. To be fair, it was sort of a non-sequitur.

The perplexed expression taking over Steve’s features made Tony kick himself internally, because of course Steve was going to be weirded out—Tony wasn’t even sure if they were friends.

Tony swallowed with difficulty, deciding to power through for the moment despite his better judgment, “When I was little, my mom used to give me hugs when I had a bad day. I learned to ask for them from my mom from time to time, growing up, and then from Rhodey during college, and then Pepper sometimes, and I just thought— You know what, never mind, pretend I never said anything, this was stupid—”

“I—” Steve blurted out. Tony paused.

Steve was quiet for a few moments. The lines of his face crumpled up in an awful grimace, looking like it physically hurt him to speak as he gritted out, “I would like one. If you don’t mind.”

Tony blinked three times in rapid succession. Then he shuffled over awkwardly to where Steve was sitting.

“So, like, do you want to stand up or do I just lean down? Uh, which one would you prefer? Or—”

Steve took the choice entirely out of his hands when he stood up, tall body towering over Tony. He then proceeded to wrap his arms around Tony tentatively, like he wasn't sure how Tony would fit in his embrace.

Their bodies pressed up flush against one another, the dips and curves lining up perfectly. With his arms curled around Steve, Tony tightened his hold around Steve’s midriff just a little bit, the way Tony liked it when he was stressed out, physical touch grounding him in the moment and reminding him to focus on the present.

By the pleased and almost involuntary sigh Steve let out, he seemed to appreciate it, too. The cold tip of Steve’s nose brushed against the skin of his exposed collarbone as Steve curled even closer into him.

They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, soaking up each other’s warmth. Tony could even feel himself relaxing, the tension ebbing away from his muscles. Maybe he had needed the hug just as much as Steve did.

When Steve eventually pulled back to release him, he looked better. Not like he had been relieved of all of his burdens, but looking less like he was going to cave in due to the weight of the world. The line of his shoulders was less taut, like he had acquired the strength to push through at least another day.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said, voice all low, rough, and unmistakably earnest, blue eyes looking down at Tony in wonder. He looked like he was looking at Tony in an entirely new light and Tony was a little bit terrified to find out just exactly what kind of light that was.

After all, they had gotten off on the wrong foot, meeting under less than ideal circumstances with tensions running high.

“Anytime, Cap.”

“Steve,” Steve corrected gently with a kind smile, “please call me Steve.”

“Anytime, Steve,” he said, and found that he genuinely meant it.

Steve seemed to think that Tony had meant it, too, because after that one fateful hug, Steve sought him out for more. He became surprisingly liberal with physical affection when it came to Tony, going to him for not only more hugs but also other kinds of physical touch: claps on the back, shoulder squeezes, and in one memorable incident that Tony remembers with way too much fondness and startling clarity—hand-holding.

Well, sort of. Steve had been watching TV in the common area on one chilly evening and his face lit up the second he saw Tony walking in.

“What are you watching?” Tony asked, taking the empty seat beside him on the couch.

Steve glanced back at the TV screen. Tony took in the sight of Steve, clad in a cozy-looking brown wool sweater and a pair of grey sweatpants, his long limbs lax and back sinking into the couch. His eyes lingered on Steve’s easy smile. He seemed more relaxed, no longer looking like he had a stormy cloud looming above his head all the time. Tony thought that maybe Steve was starting to become more accustomed to the twenty-first century.

Privately, he also liked to think that maybe he had helped in some way to make Steve feel more at home at the Tower.

“I’m not sure, actually. Some animated movie.” Steve shrugged, watching the TV absentmindedly, the colorful lights from the screen reflected in his bright blue eyes.

As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together continuously, skin glistening under the lights. It was then that Tony detected a pleasant and sweet smell in the air.

“What’s that?” Tony asked, nodding at Steve’s hands.

Steve’s smile widened at the question. He leaned forward and picked up a small tube that was sitting on top of the coffee table, handing it to Tony.

“Hand cream,” he said. “Vanilla and cinnamon-scented. Bruce finds it soothing and he recommended it to me.”

“Huh.” Tony smiled, inspecting the tube of cream in his hand.

“You want some?”

“Huh?”

“Here, I’ll apply it for you.” Steve snatched the tube out of his hands and turned sideways to face him on the couch. “Give me your hand.”

Tony did so obediently and watched as Steve squirted a generous amount of cream onto the palm of his hand. Steve began rubbing the dollop of cream around with both of his hands, spreading it all over the skin of Tony’s calloused palm—rendered sandpaper-rough from all his engineering work. He also made sure to apply the cream to Tony’s fingers, as well as the back of his palm and down to his wrist.

All the while, Tony found it oddly difficult to breathe, heart fluttering with Steve’s every touch. When he was finished with the one hand, Steve asked for the other. Dazed, Tony gave it to him.

He continued to rub cream into Tony’s hand, pouring his full attention into the simple task, making sure the cream was spread all the way to the spaces between his fingers. At one point, he paused, frowning down at a spot on Tony’s hand. Tony swallowed, nervous for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint.

“What?” Tony asked.

Steve tilted Tony’s hand wordlessly, showing him a bit of discoloration located on the webbing of his hand, between his point finger and thumb.

“Soldering iron,” Tony explained, voice tight and breathless. Steve nodded silently, but his eyes lingered on the scar for a few moments. He gently pressed on the healed burn mark with the pad of his thumb before caressing it in multiple strokes, like if he did it enough times the mark would eventually disappear.

“Sorry. I know my hands aren’t exactly the softest, what with all the work I do in the workshop.” Tony flexed his fingers, feeling more than a little bit self-conscious under Steve’s scrutiny.

Steve maneuvered Tony’s hand so that it was stacked atop his own, palm facing up.

“Not soft, no.” Steve shook his head, agreeing with Tony. Using the index finger of his other hand, he began to trace the lines of Tony’s palm.

Then his lips curved up into a soft smile, eyes following the movements of his own finger across Tony’s hand.

“But really pretty,” he whispered, voice hushed. Steve looked at him then, warm blue eyes holding his gaze steadily. “I think your hands are beautiful, Tony.”

Tony distinctly remembers the way he floundered for a few painful seconds, struggling to come up with a coherent reply, before eventually choking out a feeble “thanks”.

That moment lingered in his mind for days afterward, and Tony started to find himself unable to stop his own mind from wandering toward thoughts of Steve on a daily basis, like the man himself had moved in permanently and taken up residence in Tony’s head.

When Tony’s heart couldn’t stop doing somersaults in his chest after Steve had ambushed him with a random hug one morning as the man made his way to the elevator for his run, Tony decided that all of this had to stop.

That is how he finds himself standing in front of Steve’s bedroom, trying to build up the courage to knock on Steve’s door to tell him that he has to start going to someone else for his fix of physical comfort, because Tony just can’t offer it to him anymore without feeling increasingly like he is taking advantage of Steve, greedily savoring every touch that Steve has been innocently giving him.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that what Steve needs is physical touch in general for the sake of comfort, and not necessarily from Tony in particular. Steve just seeks him out because Tony is the one person that has given him explicit permission to do so, the one that has offered him physical affection in the first place.

Tony inhales deeply to calm his nerves and squeezes his eyes shut. His raised fist is about to rap on the door when said door opens abruptly from the inside. Tony takes a few steps back in surprise. Steve blinks at the sight of Tony, equally as taken aback.

“Tony? What are you doing here?”

“I just— I— Um. That is, I was, uh—”

Tony stills when Steve gathers him into his arms, pulling him close. Steve buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, breathing him in before sighing in relief.

“What great timing. I’m having a terrible day. I was just about to go and find you,” Steve confesses, voice muffled, nose and lips brushing against the delicate skin just above Tony’s collarbone. That combined with the tickling sensation of his warm breath has Tony holding his breath and clenching his jaw to fight an inappropriate shiver from running down his spine.

Tony’s heart is racing in his chest, blood is rushing in his ears, and he can definitely feel his palms starting to get clammy with sweat.

“Actually, Steve,” Tony squeaks, “I need you to let me go.”

Steve tenses almost immediately around him, muscles locking tight. Slowly, he releases Tony. When Tony pulls back, he gets a clear look at the evident confusion and concern playing out on Steve’s face.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you somewhere?” Steve’s eyes travel down Tony’s body, looking for signs of injury.

“No,” Tony says as he shakes his head with a shaky exhale, “it’s nothing like that.”

Steve’s eyebrows draw even closer together. “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Steve continues to stare at him, eyes unblinking.

“The hugs,” Tony clarifies, the two words leaving his mouth in a rush.

Steve blinks, processing the information. His mouth opens and closes quietly, like he doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh,” Steve breathes. Tony thinks he catches a flash of hurt in Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

Concern immediately floods back into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Tony. Did I make you uncomfortable? In any way, at all?”

You made me too comfortable, Tony thinks.

“No. Uh, it’s not you, it’s me,” he says, and then winces at his choice of words. He averts his gaze, looking at Steve’s chest instead. The weight of Steve’s blue eyes has started to become too much to handle. “I… Uh. It’s just that. I’ve started. Developing feelings. For you.”

After a few seconds of silence, he chances a look up at Steve and finds the man staring at him with an intense look on his face.

Tony quickly drops his eyes back to Steve’s chest. To his horror, he begins to ramble, “Non-friendly feelings for you. I mean, not non-friendly in the sense that I dislike you, because I like you. It’s, uh. More in the sense that I like you... too much. I have feelings. Of the— The non-platonic kind. And, uh, yeah. There. Sorry. I really didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Steve continues to say nothing.

And then—

Steve chuckles. Tony’s head snaps up. Upon catching Tony’s eyes, Steve bites back a grin.

“What— Are you laughing at me? Is this funny to you?” Tony asks, quickly crossing the line from nervous and embarrassed to offended. Tony is putting himself in a vulnerable position for the sake of their friendship, okay? He is trying to do the right thing here. He expected a polite and painful rejection, but laughter?

“No, no,” Steve says in between chuckles that manage to slip out despite his best efforts, “please don’t be mad. I just—”

“What?” Tony interrupts, unimpressed.

“I’ve, uh… The truth is, I’ve been finding excuses to touch you for months now,” Steve admits sheepishly, cheeks tinged a soft pink. His gaze drops down to the floor. “At first, I really did look forward to your hugs because they brought me comfort. They calmed me down, made me feel better. But then you kept being so sweet and kind, always checking in on me, making sure I’m okay, even when you don’t have to. And you’re so funny, Tony. You make me laugh even on my worst days, when it seems impossible to, and I just…”

The words trail off and Steve shrugs before meeting Tony’s eyes bashfully.

“After a while, you just made it impossible for me not to fall for you.”

Tony blinks, heart in his throat. It doesn’t feel real, hearing that he can affect someone else in the way Steve just described.

Steve swallows, stepping closer to Tony. Carefully, he cradles Tony’s cheeks in his hands.

“You make me really happy, Tony.” Steve looks down at him, sincerity gleaming in his azure eyes. “And I’d be over the moon if you’d be willing to give me the chance to try to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

Tony’s throat clicks. When he remembers to breathe again, he replies:

“I’d— Love to,” Tony whispers, low voice fraught with emotion. “I’d really like that.”

When Steve’s lips melt sweetly against his, Tony feels him smile into the kiss, the first of a thousand more to come.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #anonymous #user: ishipallthings

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earliebirb · 4 years

Text

it’s a small world after all

This is a fic written for my dear friend Jen ( @ishipallthings ) who sent me this prompt. I am making a new text post because Tumblr doesn’t allow me to insert the “Keep reading” link properly when replying to an ask :(

it’s a small world after all

steve/tony, meet cute, pre-slash, au: no powers, 2054 words

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop. The light chatter of the mingling guests fades away, all of his senses zeroing in on the man standing before him.

They had only spent a night together—one unforgettable night a year ago in London—and didn’t even manage to catch each other’s last names, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him after months and months of Tony bemoaning his own profound stupidity of letting the perfect London stranger go without giving him so much as a phone number—The Soulmate That Got Away.

“I— What— Steve?” Tony blinks and shakes his head, just to make sure that this is not some weird hallucination his brain has conjured up out of a severe case of lovesick pining.

No matter how many times he blinks, Steve stays there, standing in front of him, dressed in an elegant navy blue suit that shows off his insane shoulder to waist ratio.

“Tony,” Steve says and maybe Tony is imagining the way Steve sounds a little bit breathless, like maybe this moment is just as overwhelming for him as it is for Tony. How Tony has imagined this scenario happening a thousand times in a thousand different ways—meeting Steve again, hearing Steve call his name.

“What— What are you doing here?” Of all the places he thought he would run into Steve again, his best friend’s wedding is definitely not one of them. Tony sets the glass of champagne down on a nearby table before he actually drops it. His hand is definitely not trembling.

“Uh, my date is a friend. Of the bride’s.”

“A friend of Carol’s?”

“Yeah. She went to get a drink, but—”

Before Steve can finish his sentence, someone approaches him from behind, hooking her arm through his with the kind of easy affection that only comes from knowing each other for years.

“Steve, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the woman chides, but there is no mistaking the fond note in her voice. Her blonde hair falls just slightly below her shoulders. She is clad in a long dress whose shade of blue matches Steve’s suit.

“Sorry,” Steve says, squeezing her arm lightly as he turns to her with a soft smile. To his horror, Tony feels his own heart sinking. As much as he wants to, he finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of them standing side by side in front of him.

Loathe as Tony is to admit it, they look lovely together.

Tony doesn’t know why he is disappointed at all. After all, he is just a stranger with whom Steve has spent a night with. Granted, it was a wonderful night—one that started with them fighting over the last croissant at a coffee shop near Tony’s hotel and ended with pillow talk that was way too deep for someone Tony had just met a few hours prior.

Just because Tony had maybe—okay, definitely—fallen a little bit in love with him, however, it doesn’t guarantee that Steve would feel the same way about Tony.

To reiterate once again, they are just strangers. Acquaintances, at best. Acquaintances who spent a night being physically and emotionally intimate with each other on the day of their first meeting. The sex had been more than satisfactory, but if Tony were being honest, the part of that fateful day that had secured Steve a special place in his heart was the part where they spent the rest of the night cuddled up in bed, sharing secrets and stories about their very different lives until the early hours of the morning, pretending that they weren’t sleepy before eventually drifting off in each other’s arms.

Up until minutes ago, Tony wasn’t even sure he would ever see Steve again. It is beyond ridiculous for him to maintain the foolish hope of Steve returning his feelings, the hope that Steve had somehow also waited for him or tried to look for him all this time.

There is also the fact that Steve isn’t the one who had woken up in bed cold and alone after a night too well spent.

“Oh, hey! You’re James’ best friend, right? The best man. I’m Sharon.” The woman offers him her hand, a warm smile on her lips.

“Tony. Nice to meet you.” He shakes her hand, returning her smile.

There is a beat in which Sharon seems to take in the situation, looking back and forth between Steve and Tony.

“You guys know each other?”

“Yes—” Steve says.

“Well, not really—” Tony answers, at the exact same time.

Both of them fall into silence upon realizing their opposing answers. Sharon blinks, eyebrows furrowing.

“We’ve met before,” Tony manages eventually, giving Sharon what he hopes passes for an amicable smile. All the while, he feels Steve’s eyes on him.

“I see.” Sharon nods, but her smile is disconcertingly knowing. “Well, I think I saw some of my friends over there, so I’m going to leave you boys to catch up. It’s nice to meet you, Tony.”

With that, she leaves them alone again, her heels clicking away.

An awkward silence settles between them. After a few heartbeats, Tony takes a deep breath and makes a valiant attempt at small talk:

“So, how long have you guys been to—”

“You never called.”

“What?”

“I, uh.” Steve’s eyes flit down to his feet before meeting Tony’s. His smile looks slightly strained at the edges. ”You never contacted me.”

“You— You left without a word. I had no way of contacting you.”

“What?” Steve’s eyebrows crease together.

“You did!” Tony exclaims, extremely confused as to why Steve seems to be confused. “I woke up and you were gone. No goodbye. No nothing. How was I supposed to contact you?”

“I— I had to catch a flight, but I didn’t want to wake you, so I did leave without saying goodbye—”

“That’s literally what I just said—”

“—but I left a note!”

“...Huh?”

Steve stares at him with bewildered eyes. “I left you a note on the nightstand. I tore a piece of paper from the hotel notepad, wrote you a note, folded it, and left it there for you to find. I wrote down my phone number and everything.”

“No, you didn’t,” Tony insists, indignant. “I would’ve found—”

Except Tony now remembers that although when he woke up in bed that day he realized that Steve was nowhere to be found, he was also immediately struck with the realization that he was late for his 10 a.m. meeting with a client—the main reason he had been in London in the first place. He then scrambled to get ready and was out the door in a record time of ten minutes.

He didn’t even glance at whatever note Steve had supposedly left on the nightstand.

When he came back to the hotel later that night, his room had been cleaned up by the hotel staff.

“What?” Steve blinks at him.

Tony lets out a sharp exhale in disbelief. He tries to breathe through the wave of disappointment that hits him upon realizing that Steve had wanted him to call, and that both of them are just victims of an unfortunate set of events.

Steve is still staring at him, desperate for an explanation.

“I just realized that— Um. You see, that day, the morning after we… met, I woke up late for my meeting.” Tony smiles at him, sheepish and apologetic. “So I rushed out the door in a hurry. When I came back, the bed was made and the room was all tidy. There was nothing on the nightstand. My guess is that the hotel staff must’ve cleaned it up during the day, while I was gone, so…”

“So you never saw the note,” Steve finishes, a myriad of emotions flitting through his eyes.

“I never saw it,” Tony confirms, gazing wistfully at Steve, his heart constricting at the unfairness of it all. They could have started something, if luck had been on their side. Steve had waited for him to call. Now, however…

Steve clearly belongs to someone else now and whatever chance Tony had back then, it certainly is long gone by now.

Suddenly, someone calls out Tony’s name. They both turn to see the groom making a beckoning motion from across the room.

“Tones, let’s take a picture!” Rhodey shouts. He is flanked by Carol and Pepper. All three of them are staring at Tony, expectant smiles on their faces.

Tony nods at them with a grin before turning to Steve. Sweet, beautiful Steve whom Tony never got around to having a proper date with.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Tony says regretfully, heart heavy. “It’s really nice seeing you again, Steve.”

He takes one last look at Steve before turning around to join his friends.

Before he manages to take more than two steps, however, Steve catches his wrist.

“Tony, wait.”

Tony turns to see Steve staring at him with a weirdly intense expression on his face, like he is working up the courage to say something.

“Yeah?”

“Before you go, can I borrow your phone?”

Tony blinks but complies readily, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Maybe Steve wants to keep in touch, become friends.

Steve types a phone number into Tony’s phone. When he is done, he hands the phone back to Tony. The new number is saved under the name “Steve Rogers”.

“That’s my phone number. Don’t lose it this time,” Steve says, a sweet and lopsided smile on his face. He then swallows, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And, uh, listen… If it’s all the same to you, I would still very much like to go on that date with you, the one you promised we would go on once we’re both back home in New York. I know it’s long overdue, it’s been a year. But I would still love to go for coffee with you, if you’re willing.”

Tony stares at him, uncomprehending. Steve seems to take Tony’s silence as a sign of rejection, because then he licks his lips nervously and says:

“Only if you want to, of course. Only if you want to, only if you’re comfortable with it, and only if you have time. You really don’t have to if—”

“But,” Tony shakes his head, “I thought you and, uh, Sharon? Aren’t you two…?”

Steve pauses at Tony’s question. The second he registers what Tony is getting at, his eyes widen almost comically.

“Oh. Oh. Oh, no. No. We’re not like that. We’ve never been like that.” Steve breaks into a relieved chuckle. “I don’t think her girlfriend would like that idea very much.”

“Oh,” Tony breathes. He feels a rush of giddy hope, so strong and sudden that it leaves him a bit dizzy. “So, coffee?”

“Yeah.” Steve stares at him, nervous and expectant, light pink dusting his cheeks. “If that offer still stands.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“How does next weekend sound?”

Steve beams at him, smile radiant. “Next weekend sounds amazing.”

“Okay,” Tony says, stepping back slowly. “I’ll call you.”

Steve nods before ducking his head bashfully, biting his lip to suppress the growing grin on his face.

Turning around to finally walk away, Tony feels the ends of his lips climbing up into a helpless smile, so wide it could split his face in half.

Later that night, he calls Steve. His heart is pounding in his chest as he waits for Steve to pick up, phone pressed up to his ear.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice comes from the other end of the line.

“Rogers. It’s Tony. Tony Stark.”

A pause. “The Tony who stole my croissant?”

Tony grins. “I didn’t steal anything. That croissant was rightfully mine.”

“I got there first. I saw it first.”

“But I ordered it first.”

“I rest my case.” Steve laughs, the sound sending warmth running through Tony’s body. “I’m so glad you called. Thank you for calling.”

Tony smiles. It’s only right that he gives Steve a call.

After all, even though Tony had stolen Steve’s croissant, Steve managed to steal something much more valuable: Tony’s heart.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: ishipallthings

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earliebirb · 4 years

Note

prompt: stevetony + accidental love confession during a fight? I'm loving your stevetony fics, thank you for sharing

Oh my God!!! The first prompt in my inbox and it’s from the lovely @ishipallthings !! What an honor. I have followed you for such a long time on Tumblr (at least on my other, messier blog, because this one hasn’t been around for a very long time) and to have you request a fic in my inbox is so surreal. Thank you so much for the prompt, I hope I didn’t disappoint you!

turning tides

steve/tony, hurt/comfort, getting together, 1783 words

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is a mop of blond hair, the owner of which is seated in the visitor’s chair beside Tony’s bed, deep asleep with an arm pillowing his head.

Steve is back from his two-week-long, highly classified, solo mission. Tony missed him terribly. Steve is also still wearing his uniform, sans gloves and cowl, which is really weird. Surely he had time to change out of his uniform after the mission. What was the rush?

One of his hands is slipped into Tony’s. He obviously fell asleep with his hand holding Tony’s but his hold had loosened some time during his slumber. Tony resolutely ignores the way his heart flutters at the contact.

Tony looks around the room. SHIELD medical, really? It isn’t like he is dying. At least, he doesn’t think he is. The last thing he remembers before this is the spinning sight of the workshop ceiling and the feeling of his forehead resting against the cool floor of the workshop. Then… nothing.

Tony gazes at Steve, who has fallen asleep with his face tilted towards Tony, allowing Tony the rare privilege to indulge in his guilty pleasure of openly staring at Steve for as long as he wants to, getting his fill, at least until the guy wakes up. It’s probably a bit creepy, but sue him. He is in—

Tony pauses.

Fuck it. He has spent such a long time denying it to himself, it’s about time he admits it, at least in the safe and private confines of his mind.

He is in love.

There, he said it. Thought of it. Whatever. It doesn’t terrify him whatsoever. Not even a little bit.

Tony studies Steve’s eyelashes closely, gentle adoration blooming in his chest. He has the longest eyelashes Tony has ever seen, like beautiful blond waterfalls, casting dark shadows on his cheeks. Those coupled with Steve’s baby blues are absolutely a sight to behold, which probably explains why Tony has trouble breathing every time he has Steve’s full attention on himself. The thrill that runs through him every time Steve looks at him is addictive, has him turning greedy. He wants Steve’s attention on him and only him at all times. Tony tilts his head to admire the curve of Steve’s lips better, slightly ajar in his sleep. He can’t help but smile at the sight. Steve looks so peaceful and innocent when he sleeps. Tony feels like he could look at him forever and never get bored, always finding new details to marvel at without fail.

Tony reaches out to trace the straight line of Steve’s nose with his finger when Steve stirs. Tony withdraws his hand quickly, like a child just about to touch a boiling hot kettle before being reprimanded.

Steve’s eyes blink open slowly, squinting as they attempt to adjust to the light shining just above the bed. Tony watches silently, waits for Steve to find his bearings.

When Steve’s eyes finally meet Tony’s, they widen with surprise when he realizes that Tony is awake.

“Tony,” Steve says with an exhale, standing up from his seat, “you’re awake.”

“I am,” Tony confirms. Steve has extricated his hand from Tony’s in the process and Tony pretends that he doesn’t feel suddenly bereft at the loss of warmth.

Steve stands there for a few moments, taking the sight of Tony in. Then, his back straightens. His eyebrows start to furrow, the corners of his mouth tugged down, the features of his face rearranging themselves into a scowl.

Tony braces himself mentally. He knows what’s coming.

Here we go again.

“I have told you, countless of times, that you need to take better care of yourself, Tony.” Steve’s jaw clenches, his voice heavy with disappointment.

“Steve,” Tony sighs, leaning back into his pillow as he closes his eyes, “can we not? I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

Steve’s chin juts out stubbornly, inhaling deeply through his nose. Tony recognizes all the signs: Steve is not backing down.

Steve raises his eyebrows, leveling him with a glare. “Then muster some.”

Oh. Steve is angry angry.

First things first. “What happened?”

Tony has some inkling as to what might have happened, but it’s still good to know the details.

“You passed out in the workshop out of exhaustion. Jarvis tripped the emergency alarm and the others brought you here. They told me just as my plane was landing,” Steve explains, his voice cold and clipped.

God, passing out due to exhaustion warrants a stay at SHIELD’s medical bay? What an overkill. Tony would like to stress again, that he is not dying. He just passed out from exhaustion and that can happen to anyone. Not everyone’s a supersoldier, Steve. Of course, since Tony values his life, he tries his best not to voice out his thoughts to Steve, who is still staring at Tony like he had insulted his mother.

“Alright. I’m fine now. I’m awake, see?” Tony gestures to himself with a smile. Steve’s expression remains stormy as ever.

“You can’t keep doing this, Tony. When was the last time you ate anything? When was the last time you slept before you collapsed?”

The fact that Tony can’t seem to provide an answer for either of those questions is probably a bad sign.

“Why are you so dismissive of your own health? When are you going to learn to take proper care of yourself? God, it’s like you want to get sick,” Steve spits out, like the words had left a bad taste in his mouth, and that?

That has Tony’s hackles rising.

“Listen. I’m so fucking tired of you picking fights with me, telling me how to live my life? I don’t get why you’re so pissed off about everything I do all the fucking time. I can’t do anything right, can I? So I fainted, big deal. If Jarvis hadn’t tripped the alarm, I’m sure I would have come to eventually. I can just get some rest and then I’ll be fine. Why do you care so much? This had nothing to do with you. You weren’t the one who had to drag me to medical, anyway. Why are you so fucking worked up about it? I never asked for your concern, okay? I’m sorry if this event has inconvenienced you in some way.”

Steve drags in a sharp breath. His hands are curling into fists. His mouth is open and twisted in a way that suggests something like disbelief, his eyes turning red with tears. He lets out one long, shaky breath.

“And you think I asked for this?” Steve’s voice is breaking. Tony feels his heart plummet down to his stomach, panic rising in him. God, is Steve crying? Whatever the fuck did he say that made him cry? Tony didn’t even say anything that was wrong.

Steve grits his teeth. God, that is definitely a tear rolling down his cheek. His eyes stay wide open, glaring daggers at him like he is trying to end Tony’s life with the force of his stare alone.

“I never asked to go insane with worry every time you get sick, or miss a couple meals in a row, or go without sleep for days on end, or get hurt doing something unbelievable reckless on the field.” Steve’s voice is trembling with barely restrained rage, rising in volume. Tony has never seen him so furious before.

“I’m sorry, okay, Tony? I’m sorry for caring about you. I’m so goddamn sorry for being in love with you but I don’t have a choice about that!” Steve roars, but near the end his voice breaks down into a sob, and, and—

What?

Tony feels lightheaded. “...What?”

Steve is still standing there, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, shoulders heaving up and down as he pants with exertion. He is still looking at Tony like Tony had personally ripped his heart into shreds, which—

Tony wasn’t even aware that he had Steve’s heart in his hands to begin with.

Tony swallows as he tries to wrap his head around this new, unbelievably absurd concept. Tony has always been in love with Steve. This is a fact. Not the other way around. Of course not.

Steve is not in love with Tony.

Tony looks at Steve, who is now frozen, eyes still locked on Tony.

Is he?

“…Steve?” Tony asks, whisper-soft, and he loathes the sliver of hope that slips into that one syllable.

Steve staggers back reflexively, like Tony’s utterance of his name has a force so powerful it knocks him backwards. Then, he shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

Ah, okay. See? There is no way Steve is in love with him. Tony must have mishear—

“I’m sorry, Tony. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I mean— I knew that you must have… known, and you were just being nice about it, but… I never intended to bring it up. Please forget what I said,” Steve says to the floor, his voice sounding distant and polite and Tony absolutely hates it.

“I didn’t know,” Tony blurts out.

That makes Steve look up, tentative and unsure. “You… didn’t?”

“Not a clue.”

Steve pauses. He lets out a sigh as he closes his eyes, bowing his head once again. His long eyelashes are wet with tears, Tony notes.

“Well, now you know. I’m sorry.”

There is a pregnant pause in the room, neither of them knowing what to do with this revelation.

And then, after what feels like eternity:

“Steve?” Tony calls.

Steve looks up.

“Come here for a second?”

Steve shuffles on his feet hesitantly, his fight or flight instinct coming into play. He looks like he is weighing paradoxical options in a battle fought within: that getting physically close to Tony right now is simultaneously a viscerally compelling and undeniable need and also the last thing he wants to do. Eventually, however, because he is Steve and Steve will always, always be more lionhearted than Tony could ever hope to be, he approaches Tony with the air of a man accepting certain death. Once again, he finally finds himself back at Tony’s side.

Where he belongs, Tony thinks, and something unfurls deep in his chest.

Tony looks up at him, his hand reaching up to gently wipe away the tear stains on Steve’s cheek. Steve is still looking at him like he’s a ticking time bomb.

Tony gathers all of his courage and takes a deep breath, looking straight into Steve’s impossibly blue eyes.

He bites the bullet.

“Kiss me.”

When Steve’s lips meet his, it feels a lot like coming home.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: ishipallthings

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earliebirb · 4 years

Note

do you take song prompts as inspiration, because I want to prompt you for stevetony + I Run to You by Lady Antebellum?

Oh my gosh! I love Lady Antebellum. I used to listen to a lot of Lady Antebellum back in high school. I’ve never done song prompts before, thank you very much for the prompt! I hope you like it, sorry for the long wait!

in my corner

steve/tony, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 922 words

When Tony steps out of the elevator and into the common area, Clint and Natasha turn to look at him.

The flat screen TV in front of them is still playing the footage Tony has replayed over and over on his phone on the way back to the Tower.

The headline ‘CAPTAIN AMERICA WALKS OUT OF INTERVIEW’ is displayed across the bottom of the screen, accompanying the video of Steve glaring at the interviewer who was seated off-camera, jaw clenched tightly before standing up so abruptly that his chair toppled backwards, removing his clip-on mic with more force than necessary, and storming out of the room.

The last thing the camera caught of him was the tight line of his shoulders as he disappeared out of the door of the hotel room, leaving behind a scene of chaos: hushed and frantic whispers off-camera, the interviewer at a loss for words, and a flurry of activity in the room as both Steve and Natasha’s publicists called for the interview to be cut short that instant, already ushering Natasha out of the seat beside the one Steve just vacated, despite protests from the interviewing magazine’s representatives.

Tony sighs. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Disappeared into the elevator the minute we arrived home,” Natasha says. Behind her, Clint is pouring every ounce of his concentration into massaging her shoulders.

“Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers is in the master bedroom, Sir.”

He heads up to their floor and eventually finds his boyfriend sitting on the edge of their bed, elbows resting on his knees.

“You know, it’s going to be a while before they shut up about this. You made quite an exit,” Tony says by way of a greeting. Steve raises his eyes from where they were boring holes into the carpeted floor to meet his gaze.

“I’ll issue a public apology later,” Steve says dismissively, voice low and tired.

“You know I couldn’t care less about that.” Tony approaches Steve slowly and although he has witnessed this happen countless of times, he doesn’t think he will ever get tired of the way Steve’s body language changes automatically the minute Tony is in his immediate vicinity, the way he opens up and reaches out for Tony’s touch as if searching for something to ground him. The way his touch has become something Steve always permits and welcomes is a privilege that belongs almost exclusively to Tony.

Steve’s hunched shoulders straighten up in a slow motion, leaning back as Tony moves to stand between his spread knees. His arms circle around Tony’s waist, chin resting on Tony’s stomach as he looks up at Tony, maintaining eye contact. His blue eyes are a smidgen less bright than usual.

One of Tony’s hands reaches down to cradle his head, burying his fingers in Steve’s hair. He uses the thumb of his other hand to gently press down on the tight lines in between Steve’s eyebrows—the ones that appear whenever he is confused or upset—to smooth them out.

“I don’t know what made him think that talking about you like that to me was a good idea. To me, of all people,” Steve whispers, like he is confessing a secret, even though there is no one in the room but them. His fingers gather handfuls of Tony’s shirt, uncaring of the wrinkles which will inevitably form. When Tony cups his cheek, he feels the tension simmering in his clenched jaw.

Tony strokes the line of Steve’s jaw with his thumb to work the tension out, even as his mind replays the goading tone of the interviewer’s voice from the video:

You and Tony Stark came out as a couple a few months ago. We were all wondering, what drew you to him? I mean, you’re Captain America. Good, righteous, polite, handsome, a gentleman! The embodiment of all the best things America stands for. We look at you and we wouldn’t think you’d ever go for someone... like Tony Stark. After all, he’s the exact opposite of you. We are all very aware of Tony Stark’s playboy reputation, not to mention his history of war profiteering—

Knowing Steve, Tony is almost proud of the way he had left without giving the interviewer a sock on the jaw. The Avengers’ media training has paid off after all.

Tony wants to say that the interviewer didn’t exactly say anything that wasn’t true, but something tells him it would not go over very well.

Still, as his thumb makes its way down to caress Steve’s chapped bottom lip, he can’t help but suggest, half-joking, “It’s not too late if you want to break up. Cut your losses, restore your image to its former glory.”

The lines between Steve’s eyebrows return in an instant. He opens his mouth and nips at Tony’s thumb lightly, like a warning. His eyes remain trained on Tony, serious as ever.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Tony gives him a small smile, pretending like his insides aren’t being flooded with immense, all-encompassing warmth.

Everything is going to be alright, Tony thinks, as long as I have you in my corner.

Steve scoots further back on the bed.

“I’ll forgive you if you join me on the bed and hold me. I’ve had a long day,” Steve says, a hint of defiance in the way he juts his chin out, staring at Tony expectantly.

“Yes, Sir. O Captain my Captain,” Tony says, biting his lip to suppress a smile as he begins to crawl onto the bed.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: ishipallthings

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earliebirb · 4 years

Note

stevetony + "one person confesses when they think the other person thinks they're asleep BUT WAIT they're not actually asleep and heard the whole thing"? Thank you so much for your lovely fics, they always make my day and I love your style!! 💕💕💕

AAAAAAAH JEN. You’re too sweet! :(

Thank you so much for the prompt! I adore this prompt. Also, for some reason it turned into another vague college au??? More like vague no powers au with a sprinkle of college, but yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and I hope I did the prompt justice!

ignorance is (not) bliss

steve/tony, au: college, fluff, getting together, 2074 words

“Come on, Tony. Let’s go.”

Steve has an arm around Tony’s waist and one of Tony’s arm slung over his shoulder, guiding him step by step as they trudge their way home. After a few of Tony’s wobbly steps forward, however, it becomes clear that they’re not going to make any significant progress in their homeward journey if they keep going like this.

Steve stops in his tracks and Tony’s body sways into Steve’s.

Tony looks at him and giggles, blinking languidly. Under the yellow streetlights, drunk and unable to walk in a straight line, he still looks unfairly breathtaking.

Steve ducks his head, biting his lip to suppress his laughter. He sighs before crouching in front of Tony decisively.

“Come on, I’ll carry you home.”

There is a brief silence in which Steve becomes worried that Tony is too drunk to understand what he’s supposed to do, but then he hears the shuffle of Tony’s sneakers on the ground and then he feels Tony’s weight settling over his own body, his arms looping around Steve’s neck from behind. Steve reaches behind him and hooks his arms under Tony’s knees before standing up with a grunt.

“Hold onto me, okay? Don’t let go,” Steve says, turning his head to the side as far as his head allows to attempt to look at Tony. He can’t actually see Tony’s face, but the man hums contentedly into Steve’s neck and Steve shivers when he feels the cold tip of Tony’s nose brush against his skin.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Steve grins to himself, overcome with fondness. There’s something about drunk, pliant, and half-awake Tony that pulls at his heartstrings and overwhelms him with the need to protect.

He begins walking quietly then, the weight of Tony comforting and warm on his back, dirt and asphalt crunching under his shoes.

“Did you have fun today?” Tony slurs into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve replies sincerely, his mind recalling the events of the night with a smile. Tony had organized a surprise party at a karaoke bar attended by their small circle of friends. Steve had a surprising amount of fun just watching his friends goof around half drunk, enjoying their terrible renditions of various songs. Tony’s own ear-splitting cover of Highway to Hell is Steve’s personal favorite.

“Although, I would argue that you ended up having way more fun than I did,” Steve teases. Tony giggles, his breath warm against Steve’s neck.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” he mumbles sleepily into Steve’s shirt.

“Thank you, Tony.”

They spent the next few minutes in companionable silence before Steve attempts to make conversation as he turns the corner of the street.

“Hey, how much did you actually drink? Can’t remember the last time I saw you this drunk.”

His inquiry is promptly greeted by resounding silence.

He comes to a stop, glancing back at Tony. “Tony?”

More silence. Without the sound of his walking, he can hear Tony’s steady breathing.

“Out like a light, huh?” Steve says to himself, before lifting Tony further up on his back and resuming the walk home.

“You know, Tony. I really did have a lot of fun today. I always tell you that I don’t like surprises, but I find that I don’t mind them so much… coming from you,” Steve confesses, and he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, pouring his heart out to Tony when the man is clearly not awake. Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s 3 AM on a Friday night. The neighborhood is mostly asleep and the way the world is quiet right now makes him feel sort of invincible, gives him the kind of courage to do things he wouldn’t normally do, makes him feel that anything he does right now isn’t quite real and won’t have any permanent consequences.

So maybe that’s why he continues to say whatever he wants, opening the floodgates for secret confessions his heart longs to say aloud, letting the words flow out without the common sense from his brain there to stop them.

“I loved the surprise party. I loved watching all of you sing your hearts out. Although, I don’t know if we can call most of what we did ‘singing’. Maybe more… passionate screaming.” Steve chuckles.

“But if you want me to be honest? This, right here, is my favorite part of the entire night,” Steve says, relishing the way Tony’s brown curls tickle the side of his neck, his head lolling back and forth on Steve’s shoulder with every step he takes.

“I would give up even the most amazing, crazy, mind-blowing party if I got to spend a night with you, just the two of us. I really don’t care what we do, just as long as you’re by my side. Hell, you could even slander my favorite TV show and talk my ears off about how scientifically inaccurate it is.” Steve feels his own lips turn up in a helpless smile just at the thought of it, a wave of longing so powerful taking over him and leaving him breathless.

Steve takes a deep breath.

“The truth is… I’m in love with you, Tony,” he finally says out loud, for the first time ever. The way he is able to express how he has always felt about Tony without any inhibitions feels unbelievably freeing, a lightness filling his limbs, making his steps lighter. He feels untouchable.

“I’ve known this for a while and it’s simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the entire world. Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I love you so much my heart is going to burst with it.”

He makes it into the elevator of their apartment building, pressing the button for their floor. His own reflection stares back at him from the smooth metal elevator doors as they close. Then his eyes fall on Tony, fast asleep on his back.

“Some days, it makes it hard to breathe. Other days… On days like today, it leaves me feeling all dopey and happy like I’m on cloud nine,” he says, his voice disconcertingly loud in the small enclosed space. He allows himself a few seconds to lean back against Tony’s warmth and lets his eyes linger on their reflection, indulging in the brief fantasy of them being an actual couple. They look good together.

The elevator dings. Steve carries Tony out of the elevator and manages to punch in the passcode to Tony’s apartment door—right across from his—with some difficulty, all the while making sure Tony doesn’t slide off his back. He finally makes his way into Tony’s bedroom, knowing the layout of the apartment so well he could probably traverse it in his sleep. Gingerly, he sits down on Tony’s bed, extricating Tony from himself slowly so as not to rouse him from his sleep. His back feels instantly cold from the loss of warmth, his heart bereft. He takes off Tony’s sneakers one by one and tries his best to maneuver his body under the sheets, tucking him in.

Lingering on the bed, Steve leans close to sweep Tony’s brown locks away from his eyes, unwilling to leave just yet. The second he leaves, this magical night comes to an end and Steve has to go back to the reality of days spent in painful, ridiculous pining.

Just as he moves to pull his fingers away from Tony’s face, one of Tony’s hands shoots up to grab his wrist, gripping it tightly. Slowly, Tony opens his eyes.

Steve’s blood freezes in his veins. His heart sinks with dread.

“Tony?” Steve hopes that this is just some weird bout of sleepwalking, but Tony doesn’t sleepwalk, and from the thoughtful way Tony regards him, Steve knows that Tony is somehow very much awake, which means—

Tony swallows, his eyes wide and alert in a way Steve didn’t think they were capable of being twenty minutes ago.

“Steve,” he says, the single word carrying too much weight.

Steve moves to pull his wrist away to—

He doesn’t actually know what he is planning to do but he supposes it’s something along the lines of locking himself in his room, burying his head under a pillow, and sleeping forever and ever.

Tony’s grip is strong and unyielding. He maintains Steve’s gaze with a defiant look in his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Steve feels lightheaded and when he speaks his words come out in a terrified rush. “You were awake this entire time?”

“Well, I was in and out of it, but yeah. Mostly.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling through his nose. “Did you—”

“Yeah.”

“How much—”

“All of it.”

It feels like eternity before Steve is able to force something coherent out of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve. Look at me.”

Steve’s eyes remain tightly shut.

“Steve?”

Steve shakes his head vigorously, eyes still closed.

“Steeeve?” Tony calls again.

There is the sound of rustling sheets, like Tony is shifting on the bed.

“If you don’t open your eyes, I’m going to kiss you.”

The wave of pure shock that simple statement sends through his body makes his eyes blink open of their own accord. He flinches with further surprise when he sees that Tony’s face is suddenly much closer than it was before.

“Tony, I—”

“Is this why you always turn down Natasha’s matchmaking attempts?”

Steve nods slowly, feeling dizzy under Tony’s close scrutiny.

Tony starts to chuckle, resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “God, we’re both idiots.”

“Huh?”

Tony leans back, smiling at him with a tenderness that sends his heart racing.

“Remember that one time you finally decided to go on a date with Sharon?”

Steve nods, thinking back to the night he agreed to go on one date after Natasha’s endless pestering, to at least try, because Sharon had seemed nice and Tony was never going to love him back anyway.

In retrospect, the whole thing was a terrible mistake because he practically went on the date to get over Tony, which effectively makes him a jerk. Heartache had clouded his judgment, but sweet and nice Sharon deserved so much better than that. Even at the end of their date, when it had been clear to the both of them that things weren’t going to work out between them, she remained unbelievably kind and gracious.

“You remember how I had skipped all my classes the following day?”

“Yeah?”

“It was because I had a massive hangover. Because the night of your date, I was getting absolutely shitfaced, drinking my feelings away.”

Steve furrows his brow, breath hitching in his throat. “Because—”

“Because I’ve been in love with you since like, forever?” Tony’s tone is deceptively nonchalant, but the nervous way in which he avoids Steve’s eyes betrays his true emotions.

Steve sucks in a deep breath, an overwhelming warmth flooding his chest, his affection for Tony intense and heady like some kind of potent drug rushing through his veins.

“Well, uh, the Sharon thing didn’t work out anyway,” Steve says, feeling out of breath. Tony’s doe-eyes look up to meet his gaze at the admission.

“Yeah?”

“During the date, I… couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he confesses, ducking his head bashfully.

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t work out,” Tony says. When Steve meets his eyes again, Tony is looking at Steve like he just discovered that the secrets of the universe have been swimming in Steve’s eyes all along.

“Me too.” Steve lets out a shaky breath. “So, uh. It’s late. You should get some sleep. See you tomorrow?”

He stands up, a little unsteady on his feet.

“Let’s have lunch together? Make it a date?” Tony suggests.

A date, Steve thinks a little dazedly even as he nods. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Tony’s eyes stay fixated on him as he steps backwards towards Tony’s bedroom door.

“Okay, good night,” Steve says, slowly pulling the door shut.

“Good night,” Tony replies, snuggling down in his bed.

Steve shuts the door quietly before resting his forehead on it, the smooth wooden surface cool against his skin. Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he takes a deep breath and opens the door again abruptly.

“Actually, one last thing before I go?”

“Yeah?” Tony sits up, looking at him expectantly.

Steve strides purposefully towards him.

As he bends down to kiss him, he finds that Tony is already surging upwards, meeting him halfway.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: ishipallthings

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earliebirb · 4 years

Note

thank you so much for your fill for my prompt, that was so lovely!! 💕💕 not to overwhelm you, but since you reblogged that prompt list yesterday, stevetony + 16 or 47 if you want? 😊

Thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took me a while to finish this because 1) school, and 2) for some reason, this got way out of control and ended up being 4.5k words.

(I also ended up incorporating both 16 and 47 from the prompt list into the story. I hope you don’t mind!)

Sorry if the fic is too long for your liking! Also, don’t worry about overwhelming me. For some reason, getting fic requests like this really gets my creative juices flowing. :)

Without further ado, here it is! I hope you like it!

come build a home out of me

steve/tony, au: college, fake dating, getting together, 4527 words

(16 and 47 from this list)

The first thing Steve sees when he walks into the apartment is Tony, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, staring hard at something on the coffee table.

“What’s wrong?”

Tony looks up at the sound of Steve’s voice, having been so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Steve coming into the apartment.

“Oh, it’s just—” Tony shrugs, gesturing to the thing on the coffee table. As Steve nears the table, he notices that it’s an envelope. Steve looks at Tony in question.

Tony sighs. “It’s a wedding invite.”

“Someone you know getting married?”

Tony worries at his bottom lip. After a beat, he answers: “It’s my ex, Monica. She’s getting married.”

“Oh.” Steve inhales, trying to gauge the situation. Steve remembers him talking about Monica, the one girl he dated all throughout high school during one of their late night talks Steve is very fond of. They used to have late night talks that last until the early hours of the morning, until they struggle to stay up while lying in their respective beds situated at opposite ends of the small dorm room they had shared during the first two years of college before they decided to move into an apartment off-campus.

Of course, living in an apartment is a lot more comfortable than living in a cramped college dorm room. There is more privacy, for one. Sometimes, though, he misses having Tony’s face be the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing he sees when he wakes up, always just a few feet away from him.

“Yeah.” Tony sighs again, clearly perturbed.

“Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know. If I don’t go, people are definitely going to talk. If I go alone, people are also still going to talk. Everyone knows she’s the one who dumped me after all, not the other way around.”

Oh, yes. Steve knows that, too. Tony has told him about how Monica had dumped him on the night of prom and how very public and humiliating and depressing the whole ordeal was. Steve remembers the way he had felt irrationally annoyed at Monica, this girl that he didn’t even know personally, thinking about how dumb she must be for breaking up with Tony, because if Steve were ever granted the blessing to have those beautiful Bambi eyes looking at him and only him?

Well.

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Tony’s eyes linger on him, like he is still trying to make sense of the utter nonsense that has come out of Steve’s mouth.

Thankfully, Steve’s brain suddenly decides to come back online. Coming back to his senses, Steve opens his mouth to retract all of his ridiculous suggestions, when—

“Okay.” Tony nods.

Steve’s mouth snaps shut. Tony looks at him, expression unreadable.

“That’s a good idea. Thanks, Steve.” Tony stands up, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s this Saturday. Prepare a tux.”

With that, Tony enters his bedroom, leaving Steve sitting on the couch, stunned, dumbfounded, and wondering what mess he has gotten himself into.

The night of the wedding rolls around and the next thing Steve knows, he is standing in the middle of the wedding reception beside Tony, who looks absolutely stunning in his classic black suit.

They have come up with a simple background story on how they became a couple, just to make sure they are on the same page. They met because they were roommates in college (which is the truth) and they dated two months into knowing each other (which is not the truth, no matter how much Steve’s traitorous heart wished it was). The rest of the details, they figured, wouldn’t matter as much since they just have to keep up this charade for the night.

Steve is determined not to let Tony down. He has offered himself to be Tony’s fake boyfriend for the night, and he is going to deliver, goddammit. He is going to be the best fake boyfriend the world has ever seen, especially in front of Tony’s ex-girlfriend.

It all goes on fairly smoothly. Throughout the night, Steve has kept a respectful hand on the small of Tony’s back. Little touches here and there, completely immersed in the role of the doting boyfriend. And if his heart clenches just a little bit every time Tony welcomes his touches so naturally and even initiates some of his own? Well, no one needs to know.

The DJ plays something slow and gentle as the lighting dims in the ballroom. Steve sees couples all around the room step onto the dance floor, swaying along to the crooning of a popular love song.

“May I have this dance?” Steve offers his hand to Tony, holding his breath as Tony looks up at him.

Tony smiles, something soft dancing in his eyes as he accepts Steve’s hand.

They walk to the dance floor. Tony loops his hands around Steve’s neck and Steve’s hands settle comfortably on Tony’s waist.

Tony’s eyes remain trained on him throughout the dance, looking up at him from under long dark lashes, slightly obscured by his unruly brown curls. Steve reaches up to gently brush the curls aside, just so he can look at Tony a little bit better. Tony blinks as Steve touches his hair and Steve feels the flutter of Tony’s lashes tickling his skin, the movement bringing a smile to his lips. Something warm runs through his veins and he feels a lightness settle beneath his bones as they sway on the dance floor. Steve wonders what it would be like to really have this, to be able to hold Tony in his arms whenever he wants to, to have Tony smiling at him like Steve is his entire universe.

Tony licks his lips and Steve’s gaze falls on them. He thinks of how temporary this is—this dream he loathes to wake up from—and something breaks a little within him. He closes his eyes instead, rests his forehead against Tony’s, and lets himself drown in the moment. Resolutely ignoring all logic and reality, he lets himself savor the fantasy, the privilege of having Tony as his for the night.

When the song ends, Steve forces himself to pull away from Tony. It’s almost physically painful.

“I’ll get us something to drink?” Steve asks and Tony nods. Steve turns to head towards the bar, when Tony’s fingers catch his wrist.

Steve turns around to look questioningly at him. Tony takes a deep breath and swallows, squeezing his wrist gently. It might just be Steve’s imagination, but Steve thinks he sees something akin to sorrow bleed into his eyes. When Tony smiles, for some reason it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t go too far,” Tony says, his voice unusually rough. Having Tony look at him like that makes Steve feel like someone has tied a knot around his heart and pulled.

He doesn’t know what came over him, but he finds his feet bringing him closer to Tony. He leans close to plant a soft and reverent kiss on Tony’s temple. He thinks he hears Tony’s breath hitching, but that might also have been his own.

“I won’t,” Steve promises, before really pulling away from Tony this time.

When he reaches the bar, he asks the bartender to make his drink extra strong before burying his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Tony is really doing an excellent job at this whole fake dating thing. Steve, on the other hand, feels like he needs to lock himself in a room and scream. He really dug his own grave when he suggested this to Tony, didn’t he?

When Steve finds Tony again, drinks in his hands, he notices a commotion a short distance away and realizes, with a sharp intake of breath, that the bride and groom are making the rounds. His heartbeat starts ringing in his ears when he realizes Monica and her groom—Jeff, his memory supplies—are heading towards Tony and him. He attempts to quell his nerves by taking a few sips of his drink before setting the two glasses down at a nearby table.

“Oh my gosh. Tony? I’m so glad you made it!” Monica shrieks, excited. She hugs Tony, planting a kiss on his cheek. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How have you been?”

“Congratulations, Monica, Jeff.” Tony smiles. “I’m doing fine. Uh, this is—”

Tony hesitates visibly and Steve steels himself before flashing the bride and groom his brightest smile.

“Hi. I’m Steve, Tony’s boyfriend. Congratulations to the both of you.”

“Thank you. Oh, wow. Look at you! How long have you guys been together?”

“Almost three years now,” Steve replies with contrived ease, a stab of longing shooting through him.

“God, you’re so lucky, Tony. He’s a looker.” Monica nudges Tony with a wink.

Steve smiles and curls an arm around Tony’s waist. He looks down at Tony and finds Tony already looking up at him. “Not really,” he says and feels his lips curl into an involuntary smile as he looks into Tony’s eyes, “I’m definitely the lucky one.” It’s the truth. Some days, Steve feels amazed at his own luck, thanking the universe for leading him to Tony, letting him have the privilege of even knowing Tony, albeit just as a friend.

Steve turns back to Monica. This time, the words roll off his tongue easily, having been pulled from the innermost recesses of his heart: “He’s beautiful, brilliant in spades, and the most kind-hearted person I know.”

“Aw, you guys are so cute together!” Monica gushes appreciatively.

“Is marriage on the cards? Are we going to be hearing wedding bells soon?” Jeff teases goodnaturedly.

Steve laughs. “Well, who knows what the future holds. But if I like it, I have to put a ring on it, right?”

Monica and Jeff laugh along, saying something about waiting for a wedding invitation in their mailbox sometime in the future.

Steve looks down at Tony, looking for approval, and feels his own smile drop when he sees the look on Tony’s face. He looks—and Steve can’t think of any other way to put it—sick.

“Darling, are you okay?” Steve asks with genuine concern. He doesn’t know where the term of endearment has come from but he doesn’t worry too much about it, especially with Monica and Jeff standing right in front of them.

Tony physically removes Steve’s arm from his waist, stepping back with a smile that looks more like a grimace. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I need to excuse myself. Don’t mind me, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Steve watches as Tony leaves almost immediately, heading towards the general direction of the restroom. Steve feels cold all of sudden, his heart sinking rapidly with dread. He can’t shake off the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

When he turns back to Monica and Jeff, they are looking at him with concern, clearly noticing the way he can’t seem to stop staring after Tony worriedly.

“You should probably go check on him,” Jeff says with a sympathetic smile.

“I— Yeah. I’m so sorry. I probably should,” Steve takes the time to apologize, even though he already feels frantic with the desperate need to go after Tony.

“Don’t worry about it. We can always continue our talk later,” Jeff pats his shoulder and with that, Steve runs to the men’s restroom.

When he bursts through the door, he sees Tony standing in front of the sink, bending over it, hands braced on the marble countertop. Steve draws closer and notices that Tony’s face is wet, a droplet of water hanging from the tip of his nose, the messy brown curls of his hair clinging to his forehead. His black tie is haphazardly loose, like he just pulled on it because he had felt suffocated.

“Tony, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Steve places a hand on his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes, drawing in a long breath like he’s in pain.

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re clearly not fine. Are you feeling sick?” Steve gently turns Tony’s body to face him so he can get a better look at him.

Steve fishes out a handkerchief from his pocket—something Tony always likes to make fun of, calling him old and “an actual grandpa”—and begins dabbing at Tony’s wet face with it, letting the fabric absorb the water. He makes sure to be thorough, drying the skin near his hairline and down to his neck, where the water droplets have travelled down to soak the collar of his white dress shirt.

All the while, he feels Tony’s gaze on him like a hot brand on his skin.

When he pulls back to examine his work, Tony is still looking at him with something inexplicably heavy in his eyes. He’s looking at Steve like Steve is the most difficult and impossible mathematical problem Tony has ever had to solve and Steve feels oddly overwhelmed. Tony looks pale and nauseous and something is definitely wrong.

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

Tony shakes his head and closes his eyes.

“I can’t do this, Steve.”

“Do what?”

“This whole… fake dating thing.”

Oh. Steve feels something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. His mouth suddenly feels too dry.

“Was it something I did?” Steve asks as he tries to figure out what went wrong.

Tony stays silent. Steve’s brain is still hard at work, working through the events of the night, sorting through moment after moment, looking for something that could have tipped other people off on the real truth of their relationship, but he can’t seem to find anything.

“I think we did okay. People are buying the idea of us as a couple, don’t you think? Did I do something wrong?” He asks again, confused.

Tony lets out a sharp breath at that, his eyes still closed.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat. “I did something wrong, didn’t I? Tell me, what did I do?”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do this,” Tony says softly, before pushing him aside and practically running out of the restroom.

It all happens so quickly that Steve’s brain struggles to catch up. When Steve processes what has happened, he runs out of the restroom and catches a glimpse of Tony running towards the staircase leading down to the hotel lobby.

Eventually, Steve’s long legs allow him to catch up to Tony outside of the hotel, just a short distance away from the hotel’s entrance. His fingers are gripping Tony’s wrist tightly, bringing both of them to a stop on the curb. Both of them are panting heavily and Tony is still not looking at Steve, his body freezing mid-stride.

“Tony,” Steve pants, “what the hell is going on?”

Tony’s wrist begins to struggle against Steve’s grip, trying to pull away.

“Steve, please just let me go. I can’t do this right now.”

Steve shakes his head, infusing every bit of frustration and confusion into his words as he asks, “Do what? I did something wrong, didn’t I? What is it, Tony?”

Tony finally turns around to look at him with cold and steely eyes. He looks like he just swallowed something bitter when he says, “I’m in love with you.”

All of a sudden, Steve forgets how to breathe.

“And I’m sorry, Steve. I thought I could do it—this whole fake dating thing—but it turned out to be a monumentally bad idea and I can’t— I can’t do this. Having you smile at me like that, look at me like that, touch me so easy and— and affectionate, and calling me beautiful and brilliant and it’s just too much right now, okay? Turns out this whole pretending thing? Having you but not really having you? Turns out it’s too much and, uh, this was a mistake, and you have to let me go because right now I can’t fucking look at you without wanting to throw up. I’m sorry for making things awkward between us. I need some time— away from you. Just— Give me some time and in a few days everything will be back to normal, okay? Goodbye, Steve.”

Tony wrenches his arm successfully away from Steve this time because it seems that somewhere during Tony’s speech Steve’s body has stopped functioning entirely. His brain is struggling to make sense of all of this because none of it makes sense.

By the time Steve comes to his senses, Tony is long gone.

That night, Steve comes home to an empty apartment.

Tony doesn’t come back to the apartment the following day. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

Steve hasn’t tried to contact Tony in any way since the incident. His memory of that day is still clear as ever and Steve remembers Tony asking him for space, for some time away from him. So, in spite of everything, despite the fact that he feels Tony’s absence like a lost limb, despite the fact that he’s going out of his mind with worry, he gives Tony what he wants.

Wednesday rolls around. Steve is lying on his bed, reading one of his textbooks for an exam he has next week. None of the information is sticking to his brain, since lately his mind has been fully occupied by a certain brown-eyed man.

He flips to another page mindlessly when he hears the sound of the front door of the apartment opening and closing. He sits up in an instant, heart in his throat. He exits his bedroom so quickly he nearly brains himself on the doorframe, just in time to see Tony setting down a bag of what seems to be Chinese takeout on the kitchen counter. Steve drinks in the sight of him greedily after days of not seeing him, watching Tony with bated breath, afraid that if he were to breathe too loud or create any sudden movements Tony would disappear again.

Tony looks up in surprise at Steve’s sudden appearance before smiling warmly.

“Hey there, I brought sustenance. Hope you haven’t eaten dinner yet.” His voice is light and friendly. He gestures towards the bag of food. He is behaving as if nothing happened at all, like what happened on Saturday night is all a fever dream.

“Where have you been? I was worried,” Steve asks. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Tony draws a loose circle in the air with his index finger pointed upwards.

“Just, you know. Around.”

Even through his light and friendly facade, there is something in the way Tony holds himself that feels too much like he has just finished patching up a raw and open wound, like a man being too careful and conscious of every movement that he makes, afraid that the stitches holding him together would rip open any second. He is walking on eggshells in his own home, around Steve, and Steve can’t stand it.

Steve watches quietly as Tony pours himself a glass of water.

Just as he is about to bring the glass to his lips, Steve blurts out the one thing burgeoning within him, the truth that he can no longer contain in his chest ever since he found himself standing alone on the curb on a cold Saturday night:

“I love you.”

Tony freezes, his whole body suddenly rigid with tension. Tony stares wordlessly at the glass of water that is already halfway to his mouth for a few heartbeats, before sighing deeply and setting it down on the counter.

“Steve, you can’t just— You can’t just say things like that,” Tony says, lips curling into a tight-lipped smile, still not looking at Steve. He shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “You’re too nice for your own good, sometimes. You can’t just say things like that just because you feel bad. People are going to think you’re being serious. Be careful with that,” Tony advises, the tone of his voice drenched in wry humor. All the while, he is still talking to the kitchen counter, not sparing Steve a single glance.

“But I do mean it,” Steve protests, some of his nerves falling away to give way for indignation.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too. Best friends forever and all that, right?” Tony rolls his eyes, moving again to drink the water.

“Tony.”

Tony finally drinks his glass of water, tilting his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every gulp. Steve stares at the smooth expanse of his neck and is overcome with an inundating wave of want.

Tony sets the empty glass of water on the counter. He stares down quietly at the glass for a few moments before taking a deep breath and turning to face Steve with a smile, the kind of too-bright smile Tony flashes to people he doesn’t know very well.

“I’m going to go shower. Rhodey’s shower gel is nice, but I kinda miss my coconut-scented one.” He is still smiling that too-wide smile.

Tony moves to walk pass Steve but as he is walking by Steve catches his wrist. It’s too reminiscent of the way Steve had stopped Tony on the curb a few days ago and Steve’s heart aches. This time, however, Tony and Steve are facing opposite directions, the only point of contact being Steve’s grip on Tony’s wrist.

From where his thumb rests on Tony’s skin, he can feel the silent staccato of Tony’s racing pulse.

“Tony,” Steve pleads, voice low.

“Steve, let me go.” Tony’s voice is cold, all the warmth from earlier gone in an instant.

“Not until you listen to me.”

Tony scoffs. “Stop mocking me, will you?”

“I love you.”

“Don’t do this, Steve.” Tony’s voice drops even lower with warning.

“Tony—”

“Let me go or I’ll fucking punch you—”

“I am in love with you.”

“Steve, please—”

In a swift motion, Steve yanks at Tony’s wrist so Tony is forced to step backwards and become face-to-face with Steve. Tony looks up at him with shock and then Steve is grabbing him by the shoulders and backing him up against the nearest wall.

Eyes looking straight into Tony’s startled ones, feeling surer about this than he’s ever been about anything in his life, Steve enunciates his words clearly:

“Anthony Edward Stark, I am in love with you.”

Whatever Tony sees in Steve’s eyes must speak some degree of truth because instead of fighting Steve back, Tony falls silent.

Steve doesn’t know how he finds the words, but once he starts he can’t seem to stop.

“Not just the best friend kind, even though you are also my best friend, but more of the— The kind that makes me want to punch something when you flirt so openly with other people. The kind that makes me want to hoard you all to myself. The kind that makes me wonder if something’s wrong with me, because I’m not usually the jealous type.”

Steve draws closer, gaze falling down to Tony’s chapped lips.

“The kind that makes me wonder about what your lips taste like.”

Steve is so close he can count Tony’s eyelashes. He marvels at the way the shade of brown of Tony’s eyes turns lighter when they catch the soft yellow glow of the living room lights.

“I’ve been in love with you for years.” Steve can’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Tony. Maybe it was some time during one of their late night talks, talking about nothing and everything all at once. Maybe it was during one of the times Steve has had to tuck tired or drunk Tony in bed, his heart fluttering helplessly at the way Tony seems to cling to his arm just moments before falling asleep. Maybe it was during one of the times Tony took care of him when he had a bad day, settling comfortably beside him on the couch for a marathon of feel-good movies, or massaging Steve’s scalp soothingly as Steve vented to him about his problems.

Maybe his heart had already been stolen by Tony ever since he stepped into his new dorm room at college for the first time and was greeted by the sight of his roommate lying upside down on the bed he had claimed for himself before Steve arrived, waving at him with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Tony blinks at him quietly, utterly stunned.

“I love you. I’ll say it as many times as you want. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

And then, because Tony continues to say nothing:

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love—“

“Okay,” Tony says breathlessly, covering Steve’s mouth with his hand, “I believe you.”

Steve smiles down at him, warm and pleased, fierce adoration taking over him. He kisses the hand covering his lips, just to further prove his point. To Steve’s delight, Tony yelps and pulls his hand away, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink. Steve catches his hand and brings it down, intertwining their fingers together. He wonders how low the blush travels.

“Okay. Can I kiss you now?”

Tony contemplates Steve’s lips with the wonder of someone stuck in a trance. He swallows, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Steve’s mouth.

“Sure.”

Steve closes the distance between them. He kisses Tony slow and sweet, savoring every drag of their lips. The way Tony kisses back just as fervently, gives as good as he gets, sends something pleasantly hot and heady coiling in his stomach, the warmth slowly travelling throughout his body until his skin feels like it’s burning wherever Tony touches him.

They break apart eventually, panting for air, just standing there with their foreheads touching.

“So,” Steve whispers, “you were saying something about a shower?”

Tony’s eyes widen and turn dark with desire, even as he barks out a surprised laugh.

Steve grins and leans in to steal another kiss, just because he can, just because Tony looks so beautiful when he laughs and it’s been too long since Steve last saw him.

Tony indulges him, lets him steal more than one kiss.

Eventually, they end up in Tony’s bedroom instead of the bathroom, but Steve figures Tony deserves that much for their first time.

After all, Steve thinks, as he kisses his way down Tony’s neck with Tony’s fingers planted in his hair, there will always be a next time.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something #earl answers #user: ishipallthings

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