Redefinition (RP for starspangledcap)
*OOC -- Yes, finally.
Tony didn't make up his mind right away.
After he heard Sally's speech at the awards banquet, after he met the girl and her mother at the reception, he knew he would have to talk to Steve. But nothing had changed, really; the cirumstances that made their meeting in person a foolish risk were the same as ever. Tony ( Read more... )
Tony didn't make up his mind right away.
After he heard Sally's speech at the awards banquet, after he met the girl and her mother at the reception, he knew he would have to talk to Steve. But nothing had changed, really; the cirumstances that made their meeting in person a foolish risk were the same as ever. Tony ( Read more... )
"But I'm dead, remember? No one is supposed to know. The danger it would bring..."
The prospect of talking to Sally again, of having her be a part of his life - of course it made Steve excited. But there was no way it could actually work.
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Actually, Tony was pretty sure that Sam Wilson did know but that was an argument for another time.
"It woudln't be that hard to rig up a neutral location -- it would be easier if you hadn't gone and introduced yourself as Roger Stevens, or whatever, but it's nothing we can't work around. Assuming, of course, that you think she's trustworthy --"
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Steve sat back, incredulous, and his mouth split into a wide, slightly goofy grin. "I'm really going to get to see her." He reached up without thinking, placed a hand to the side of Tony's face. "Thank you."
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"I can go shave," he murmured, and he turned his face to ghost his mouth over Tony's lips, feeling the slight tickle of Tony's own moustache. "It does look much better on you than it does on me."
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He reached up and stroked Steve's hair, didn't even care that it was dark and not blonde the way he'd imagined -- no, remembered --
"Do you still use that straight razor? I can help. But seriously, this has to go. I feel like I'm making out with Henry Hellrung."
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"Did you?" he asked, over his shoulder. Henry had been the man who played Tony on television - Steve had never met him, but he knew that he and Tony had been friends. "Ever make out with him?"
It was an absurdly casual thing to be asking, but when Steve had woken up this morning, he hadn't expected anything that had happened in the last half hour. Everything was a little bit absurd.
He opened the cabinet, pulled out the straight razor and shaving cream, and began to lather his face.
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"Don't you read the papers?" he called. "Henry and I made it with every starlet in town, leaving us no choice but to hook up with each other --" And now he was leaning in the bathroom doorway, watching Steve at the sing. "For there were no more worlds to conquer."
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He knew Tony was looking at him - knew, from the other world, that he'd always enjoyed watching him shave. He moved the razor slowly, deliberately, cutting through the coarse hairs.
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Tony was excited, eager -- but hadn't felt so comfortable with himself in a long time, either and he let himself talk. "Henry's good people. He's working for us out in L.A. now. I think he has a crush on Pepper -- I haven't decided if that's something I should encourage or not. As for Henry and me, I don't know if he even remembers anything we did. He used to be the guy I would go see so we could both get totally blasted and not have to worry about disapproving --." He winced. That was what he got for just letting himself talk. "Funny how that works," he said, trying to make it sound offhand. "If we're going to talk about my sordid personal history, we could be here all night. And I doubt a boy scout like you will have any true confessions to offer in return --"
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He reached back up with the razor, touching it to his cream-lathered chin. The moustache was gone, now; only the beard remained.
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Because he could live with that.
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Maybe a fresh start was what they needed. Not a blank slate - that was impossible - but something like that palimpsest Tony had talked about. Traces of the old might still show through, but they could write something new, on top of it.
"If you want it to be," he said, finally, putting his hand over Tony's and pressing it against his chest.
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No. Not the time for morbid thoughts. Tony reached up and started to pull the shirt off of Steve's shoulder, then leaned down and started to kiss his neck, shoving the razor a bit out of the way as he moved. Tony tasted some of the foam that Steve hadn't gotten to yet. "You like this," he mumbled. "You really like this." Then he looked up, saw both their faces in the mirror, two pairs of blue eyes, two dark heads, his face bearded and Steve's almost smooth. "You really like this," he said, in a new tone, almost but not quite a question. "And I don't just mean with me. You -- I feel like I've missed a few dozen chapters here. Since when, in this world --?" It had been easy enough to get angry and snark about Steve's fireman, when he had thought they would never ( ... )
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But then Tony was asking his question, and Steve felt himself blushing for an entirely different reason. He'd hardly discussed his sexuality with anyone - just Piotr, really, all those months ago, plus the few words he'd had with Bernie and Sam. And yet, this time, after all the months he'd spent getting used to the idea, the words came easily.
"Since forever, I suppose," he answered. "I've always had urges, feelings - things I felt when I saw... attractive male movie stars, for instance. Or, well..." He cleared his throat, and the blush returned. "you. I just didn't recognize what those urgeswere. The other world may have helped me define those feelings, and come to terms with them, but... it didn't create them ( ... )
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It was a nice kiss to be lost in.
Then he turned his head to one side and rested his chin on Steve's shoulder. "I like you," he said simply, as he thought over Steve's words. Steve made it all sound so straightforward; he spoke, and he moved, with such confidence. Tony wondered why he had expected anything else. This was the Steve Rogers he had always known. Whatever self-assuredness the man had lost in the war, his time in exile had somehow given it back.
Tony moved back to look Steve in the eyes. He couldn't offer such a direct, candid statement as Steve had done because, frankly, he had worked pretty hard for most of his life and not understanding himself. But Tony owed it to Steve to be honest in any way he could, and so he repeated. "I like you. I want to go to bed with you. I can't remember a time when I didn't want to go to bed with you. I can also think of a thousand reasons that it's a bad idea, and I bet you can think of a hundred times that many. ( ... )
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