For Blue Blue Skies - Superhusbands Fic
Title: For Blue Blue Skies
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Rating: R?
Summary: Inspired by this amazing video: http://youtu.be/4xJQjj7dwIc
AN: This has not been beta read, um...I'm not a huge fan of my ending. Comments are welcome. :)
The day the procedure became available to the general public, Tony knew he was going to go through with it. Steve had been gone for a year, and still there was a gaping hole in the middle of his chest that refused to go away. He had moved out of the old apartment a few months ago, unable to shake the images of Steve cooking dinner, falling asleep on the couch while the tv flickered reruns of Scrubs, of Steve naked in their bed. Every memory was a physical blow, and every hit contributed to the bruised fragile feeling that characterized his heart ever since that day. He had dreams of his own heart, turning black, rotting from the inside out, bleeding out until nothing was left, until nothing but pain pain pain flowed through his veins. He woke up to his heart still beating in his chest, the ache pumping through his veins, diminishing back to the dull throb of heartbreak that never completely left.
He called Clint the morning before his appointment. Just to see, to hear how he was. It was a relief, in a way, to hear that Steve was doing okay. He had found a new job, a new life. It made it easier, to know he had moved on.
On a whim, he picked up the photo of them together, the one he kept at the bottom of the drawer depicting the two of them half asleep in the grass at a family picnic. He tucked it into his wallet, not wanting to think too closely about the why as he locked his apartment door and left for the clinic.
The line was long, but moved quickly as person after person left, each looking dazed, confused, and Tony liked to imagine, slightly less broken. When it was finally his turn a nurse directed him down the hall to the third door on the right, and if for just a moment he thought he saw Steve entering the room next to him, he shook it off. The doctor barely looked up as Tony took his seat in the large black chair, waiting for the procedure that would fix his bleeding heart. The doctor gave him a sort of distracted smile as he placed the device over his head, murmuring platitudes of this won’t hurt a bit.
Then suddenly Tony was drowning.
He remembered the day they had met, they were just children when Steve feel into his lap. Literally fell as he took a sharp turn on his bike and landed in the ditch where Tony had been collecting samples for his science experiment. Tony remembered thinking, even at that age, that nothing had been more beautiful than the golden haired boy laying in the grass, and cursing the world as his knee gushed blood.
Then they were seventeen, and Tony was trying to work up the courage to ask Steve to the prom, before having his heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw Steve holding the hand of a girl from their class.
On Steve’s twenty-first birthday they drank beer and shots and ended up sick all over Tony’s pent house bathroom floor, barely making it to bed where they clung to each other and tried to make the world stop spinning.
At twenty-two Tony had lunged, pressing a nervous kiss to Steve’s slack lips, gasping in surprise as he found himself pressed against the wall and Steve whispering into his mouth, begging to know, what had taken him so long.
He remembered their first time, a little awkward, but perfect because of it, as Steve carefully worked him open and refused to be rough even through the last thrust. He remembered how his heart had ached at the sweetness, at the way his stomach had turned thick and warm as Steve lay beside him, pressing breathless kisses to his damp shoulder murmuring I love you I love you I love you over and over until his words were just slurred into love love love.
He remembered their first fight, the one that had ended up with tender kisses on their living room floor.
Then the second fight.
And the third.
And so many fights afterwards.
He remembered all the ones that ended with kisses.
And all the ones that didn’t.
At twenty-nine, Steve walked out the door, taking half of Tony with him, leaving him with a broken and bruised heart as he lay on their bedroom floor.
And now at thirty Tony was finally going to be the one to leave, because up to this point he had never let go of Steve, not really. But now, now he could finally get Steve out of his head, for good.
At seven months and thirty years, Tony forgot about Steve Rogers.
For good.
He still had chest pains, and the memory of a blonde haired blue eyed angel left him gasping and clutching at his heart through the soaked fabric of his tee.
For some reason unknown to him, he avoided certain places, art shops, museums, the café down the street, only doing so with the realization that when he did not, the nightmares grew worse.
At three months and thirty-one years, Tony Stark met Steve Rogers for the second time under a blue blue sky.
Pairing: Steve/Tony
Rating: R?
Summary: Inspired by this amazing video: http://youtu.be/4xJQjj7dwIc
AN: This has not been beta read, um...I'm not a huge fan of my ending. Comments are welcome. :)
The day the procedure became available to the general public, Tony knew he was going to go through with it. Steve had been gone for a year, and still there was a gaping hole in the middle of his chest that refused to go away. He had moved out of the old apartment a few months ago, unable to shake the images of Steve cooking dinner, falling asleep on the couch while the tv flickered reruns of Scrubs, of Steve naked in their bed. Every memory was a physical blow, and every hit contributed to the bruised fragile feeling that characterized his heart ever since that day. He had dreams of his own heart, turning black, rotting from the inside out, bleeding out until nothing was left, until nothing but pain pain pain flowed through his veins. He woke up to his heart still beating in his chest, the ache pumping through his veins, diminishing back to the dull throb of heartbreak that never completely left.
He called Clint the morning before his appointment. Just to see, to hear how he was. It was a relief, in a way, to hear that Steve was doing okay. He had found a new job, a new life. It made it easier, to know he had moved on.
On a whim, he picked up the photo of them together, the one he kept at the bottom of the drawer depicting the two of them half asleep in the grass at a family picnic. He tucked it into his wallet, not wanting to think too closely about the why as he locked his apartment door and left for the clinic.
The line was long, but moved quickly as person after person left, each looking dazed, confused, and Tony liked to imagine, slightly less broken. When it was finally his turn a nurse directed him down the hall to the third door on the right, and if for just a moment he thought he saw Steve entering the room next to him, he shook it off. The doctor barely looked up as Tony took his seat in the large black chair, waiting for the procedure that would fix his bleeding heart. The doctor gave him a sort of distracted smile as he placed the device over his head, murmuring platitudes of this won’t hurt a bit.
Then suddenly Tony was drowning.
He remembered the day they had met, they were just children when Steve feel into his lap. Literally fell as he took a sharp turn on his bike and landed in the ditch where Tony had been collecting samples for his science experiment. Tony remembered thinking, even at that age, that nothing had been more beautiful than the golden haired boy laying in the grass, and cursing the world as his knee gushed blood.
Then they were seventeen, and Tony was trying to work up the courage to ask Steve to the prom, before having his heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw Steve holding the hand of a girl from their class.
On Steve’s twenty-first birthday they drank beer and shots and ended up sick all over Tony’s pent house bathroom floor, barely making it to bed where they clung to each other and tried to make the world stop spinning.
At twenty-two Tony had lunged, pressing a nervous kiss to Steve’s slack lips, gasping in surprise as he found himself pressed against the wall and Steve whispering into his mouth, begging to know, what had taken him so long.
He remembered their first time, a little awkward, but perfect because of it, as Steve carefully worked him open and refused to be rough even through the last thrust. He remembered how his heart had ached at the sweetness, at the way his stomach had turned thick and warm as Steve lay beside him, pressing breathless kisses to his damp shoulder murmuring I love you I love you I love you over and over until his words were just slurred into love love love.
He remembered their first fight, the one that had ended up with tender kisses on their living room floor.
Then the second fight.
And the third.
And so many fights afterwards.
He remembered all the ones that ended with kisses.
And all the ones that didn’t.
At twenty-nine, Steve walked out the door, taking half of Tony with him, leaving him with a broken and bruised heart as he lay on their bedroom floor.
And now at thirty Tony was finally going to be the one to leave, because up to this point he had never let go of Steve, not really. But now, now he could finally get Steve out of his head, for good.
At seven months and thirty years, Tony forgot about Steve Rogers.
For good.
He still had chest pains, and the memory of a blonde haired blue eyed angel left him gasping and clutching at his heart through the soaked fabric of his tee.
For some reason unknown to him, he avoided certain places, art shops, museums, the café down the street, only doing so with the realization that when he did not, the nightmares grew worse.
At three months and thirty-one years, Tony Stark met Steve Rogers for the second time under a blue blue sky.