Tony's hands tightens around Steve's shoulders, until he says Bill Foster's name. Then one pulls off and clenches into a fist. Tony would really like to throw a punch, but. . .
Tony jerks away. "You can't start a battle and blame the other guy when there are casualties." He turns his back. Gripping the railing, he squares his shoulders and speaks in slow measured syllables. "You have no idea how I felt about Bill. You have no idea what I went through because you were not there."
Steve regrets saying what he did. Because he knows Tony, and he knows he would never have let that battle happen if he'd known someone would die. It isn't fair to accuse him of not caring. Whatever Tony's problems - whatever his arrogance and bad ideas and poor choices have made him do, whatever Extremis has done to his mind - he's not a murderer. And he's not soulless. This doesn't change the fact that Bill is still dead, that all of those poor chocies were made, but Steve's made enough bad choices of his own these past few months that he doesn't have much room to talk.
It's Steve's turn to step forward, grabbing Tony's shoulder from behind. "I'm sorry," he says, voice low and honest. "That was unfair."
Tony's mind is full of thoughts about how to break through Steve's anger, but he must have given up on expecting them to work. Because, when he hears that tone in Steve's voice, something inside breaks, and, when he turns around, Tony doesn't even care about the warm sting of tears in his eyes.
"You're such an idiot," Tony says. "You've always been such an idiot." He drapes an arm around Steve's neck, and presses his face into the other man's shoulder. He feels Steve's breath and smells the laundry soap in his shirt and the hint of stew from Wanda's kitchen that still clings to his neck.
Unlike Steve, Tony isn't at all surprised by the strong feelings that the close contact raises in him. He's always known how he felt about Steve Rogers, even if he's recently tried to forget about it. Tony has never said anything because he couldn't imagine it would end up anywhere good, but he can hardly fathom the irony of Steve finally figuring it all out, now. Now, when everything between them has to be over.
Steve doesn't know how to react as Tony falls onto him, clinging with so much desperation. His immediate thought is to revert to the memories of the world Wanda created, where this sort of thing is familiar and natural. But he slowly realizes that that's not necessary. Tony isn't hugging him because of what they were in the other universe. And when Steve wraps his own arms around Tony's torso, he's not doing it because he remembers being his husband. They're holding each other because of who they are now and who they've always been, because of all they've gone through and all the feelings that have been left unsaid for so long.
Steve moves his hand up Tony's back, rubbing in gentle circles, and moves the other hand up to tentatively touch his hair. "I'm not dead," he whispers, his mouth only a few inches from Tony's ear. He's not even sure why he says it, but it feels like the right thing to say.
Tony reaches for some kind of clever retort, but he can't come up with one. Steve is really here, holding him, reassuring him. Steve, who could have died on his watch. The reality of it starts to sink in. It isn't the first time they've held onto each other, in relief, after a close call; it isn't the first time Tony has taken in Steve's voice, and his scent, and the reassuring solidness of his body. Another time, he would have gathered his composure, and stepped away. They would have patted each other on the back and never mentioned it again.
But this is different. He remembers the other world too well; he knows the taste of Steve's mouth, the rough feel of his chin in the morning before he shaves, the noises he makes in his sleep. But more than that, Tony doesn't want to let Steve go because he can't imagine when he'll have this chance again. He puts a hand on Steve's cheek and moves to kiss him hard, on the mouth.
Steve accepts the kiss without hesitation. He still doesn't understand how he missed these feelings before, doesn't understand what this means for his overall identity, but all he can focus on is that this is undeniably real. It may be just as ephemeral as that last kiss in the old universe, but at least this time he knows they're both here, completely conscious of all memories. And despite that fact, they both still want to do this. Need to do this
( ... )
Tony is momentarily elated when Steve returns the kiss -- not only returns it but elevates the contact, touching his hair, putting hands on his face. Then -- Tony feels it -- even though Steve is by far the stronger, he surrenders control of the situation
( ... )
Just because he expected it to end doesn't mean that Steve is any happier when it does. As Tony pulls away, Steve tries to hide his disappointed expression, but he's not sure he entirely succeeds. They stand, awkwardly, a few feet apart, and Steve casts his eyes to the floor, trying to will away his insistent erection.
Part of him wants to reach back and grab Tony again, drop to his knees and grasp Tony's fly and take control of the situation, because Tony kissed him and it's clear he wants this just as much as Steve does.
But the more rational part of him knows that would be a terrible idea. Besides the obvious - besides the fact that he's still mad at Tony for the war, besides the fact that there are still a million personal and philosophical issues dividing them - there's the fact that Tony is the Director of SHIELD and Steve is a fugitive about to go into hiding. There's no way they could ever be together, now. Wasn't it only days ago that he broke up with Sharon Carter for the same reason? Sleeping with Tony right now
( ... )
As Steve's eyes rise to meet his, Tony feels his gut clench. He tries to take in the possibility that Steve could honestly share his feelings. We should have done this a long time ago. . . He remembers the way things had gone in Wanda's world, Steve's own litany of all the times he should have realized that Tony loved him. All of those, of course, were real. Maybe if Tony hadn't been so damn proud and stubborn, this really could have happed before and
( ... )
Steve understands. He understands that it's easier for Tony to convince himself that this never would have worked than to contemplate the idea that they made a mistake. A stupid mistake of pride and emotional blindness that ultimately led to everything they've gone through recently. But Steve's not so easily convinced. He remembers Wanda's world, and he remembers how, despite its happiness, it wasn't perfect. There were still supervillains to fight, battles barely escaped. He and Tony still bickered - about their daughter's college plans, about Tony's flirting. Even Sally wasn't perfect: rebellious, headstrong, kidnapped at 12, causing chaos with one of Tony's suits at 14. The very imperfection of the universe convinces Steve of how real it could have been
( ... )
"I'm not asking you for forgiveness," Tony answers. "And I'm not offering it. We both knew what we knew and we did what we did, and you could run the clock back and we'd do the same damn things all over again. But -- if you think I hate you -- if you think I ever hated you, that this is what all this was about --"
He doesn't finish, just shakes his head. It's the closest he'll come to acknowledging Steve's statement about the importance of their friendship. Tony means and believes everything he says, that they both did what they thought was best. But there's still a voice screaming in the back of his mind, So why did you leave me? He doesn't trust himself on the subject, anymore -- doesn't trust himself not to get emotional, not to cry or say, To hell with it all and press Steve against the wall again, in spite of everything. He can't think of any of that now. He has to be Anthony Stark, Mighty Avenger, Director of SHIELD. Iron Man
( ... )
Steve is about to remark that most of the times Tony's been "dead," it's been because he faked his own demise. But, given what they're planning, this would only prove Tony's point. Besides, though his delivery may leave something to be desired, Steve heard the hesitation of Tony's voice in his first words, and he knows the brisk summary that followed is just the other man's way of coping with things he'd rather not deal with.
"I can't promise I won't do any fighting," Steve says. "If push comes to shove. But I can hide, for awhile." He meets Tony's eyes. "One condition: I'll need to send a message out. Secure channel, all necessary precautions taken. I won't have my friends crying over a fake corpse. And that includes the friends who still haven't registered."
Tony realizes it isn't going to be worth fighting this point. He can't monitor every communication that Steve has -- well, honestly, between his armor's communications capabilities, and SHIELD's, he probably can, but he has a feeling it wouldn't be particularly healthy for either of them. Anyway, as he has already acknowledged, there will be abundant rumors of Steve's survival.
"Of course," he says. "Let them know you're alive you understand. Not where you are or what you're doing, or even who you are. I've told Carol; Hank Pym will have to find out. There's Jean obviously, and after that who knows is up to you. Wait, one exception --" He bites his lip. "I hate to say this, obviously, but SHIELD could be compromised. I have to ask you not to contact Sharon."
"Sharon would never-" Steve starts, but then he reconsiders. In her right mind, Sharon would never be involved with a plan to kill him. But Steve has no idea who arranged this assassination. And there are more than enough villains out there - more than enough villains with a personal stake in his death - who have mind-control capabilities. If a villain wanted to infiltrate SHIELD and get close to him, Steve knows that Sharon would be the number one target. If Sharon is under someone's control, remaining "dead" to her will probably save her from whoever's controlling her, since she'll no longer be needed. And if she isn't under someone's control, well... they've dealt with this before. He thought she was dead for years. Someday, when he comes back, he'll make it up to her. Things will never be quite the same between them, but... well, that seems to be the pattern this week with people he loves
( ... )
"Why?" Steve asks. "It's always worked before." But at Tony's glare he shoots a small smile to show that he's joking. It occurs to him, suddenly, that one of the things he'll regret most about losing Tony is their ability to do this - to bounce back and forth between bickering and sentimentality, teasing and professionalism. He's not sure he's ever had a relationship quite like that with anyone else.
"I'll be Wilson Buchanan," he says, getting serious again. He doesn't have to explain his reasoning. "I'll figure out more details later. And I guess I should disguise myself..." He lifts a lock of hair at his temple and directs his eyes upward.
Tony jerks away. "You can't start a battle and blame the other guy when there are casualties." He turns his back. Gripping the railing, he squares his shoulders and speaks in slow measured syllables. "You have no idea how I felt about Bill. You have no idea what I went through because you were not there."
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Steve regrets saying what he did. Because he knows Tony, and he knows he would never have let that battle happen if he'd known someone would die. It isn't fair to accuse him of not caring. Whatever Tony's problems - whatever his arrogance and bad ideas and poor choices have made him do, whatever Extremis has done to his mind - he's not a murderer. And he's not soulless. This doesn't change the fact that Bill is still dead, that all of those poor chocies were made, but Steve's made enough bad choices of his own these past few months that he doesn't have much room to talk.
It's Steve's turn to step forward, grabbing Tony's shoulder from behind. "I'm sorry," he says, voice low and honest. "That was unfair."
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"You're such an idiot," Tony says. "You've always been such an idiot." He drapes an arm around Steve's neck, and presses his face into the other man's shoulder. He feels Steve's breath and smells the laundry soap in his shirt and the hint of stew from Wanda's kitchen that still clings to his neck.
Unlike Steve, Tony isn't at all surprised by the strong feelings that the close contact raises in him. He's always known how he felt about Steve Rogers, even if he's recently tried to forget about it. Tony has never said anything because he couldn't imagine it would end up anywhere good, but he can hardly fathom the irony of Steve finally figuring it all out, now. Now, when everything between them has to be over.
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Steve moves his hand up Tony's back, rubbing in gentle circles, and moves the other hand up to tentatively touch his hair. "I'm not dead," he whispers, his mouth only a few inches from Tony's ear. He's not even sure why he says it, but it feels like the right thing to say.
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Tony reaches for some kind of clever retort, but he can't come up with one. Steve is really here, holding him, reassuring him. Steve, who could have died on his watch. The reality of it starts to sink in. It isn't the first time they've held onto each other, in relief, after a close call; it isn't the first time Tony has taken in Steve's voice, and his scent, and the reassuring solidness of his body. Another time, he would have gathered his composure, and stepped away. They would have patted each other on the back and never mentioned it again.
But this is different. He remembers the other world too well; he knows the taste of Steve's mouth, the rough feel of his chin in the morning before he shaves, the noises he makes in his sleep. But more than that, Tony doesn't want to let Steve go because he can't imagine when he'll have this chance again. He puts a hand on Steve's cheek and moves to kiss him hard, on the mouth.
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Part of him wants to reach back and grab Tony again, drop to his knees and grasp Tony's fly and take control of the situation, because Tony kissed him and it's clear he wants this just as much as Steve does.
But the more rational part of him knows that would be a terrible idea. Besides the obvious - besides the fact that he's still mad at Tony for the war, besides the fact that there are still a million personal and philosophical issues dividing them - there's the fact that Tony is the Director of SHIELD and Steve is a fugitive about to go into hiding. There's no way they could ever be together, now. Wasn't it only days ago that he broke up with Sharon Carter for the same reason? Sleeping with Tony right now ( ... )
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He doesn't finish, just shakes his head. It's the closest he'll come to acknowledging Steve's statement about the importance of their friendship. Tony means and believes everything he says, that they both did what they thought was best. But there's still a voice screaming in the back of his mind, So why did you leave me? He doesn't trust himself on the subject, anymore -- doesn't trust himself not to get emotional, not to cry or say, To hell with it all and press Steve against the wall again, in spite of everything. He can't think of any of that now. He has to be Anthony Stark, Mighty Avenger, Director of SHIELD. Iron Man ( ... )
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"I can't promise I won't do any fighting," Steve says. "If push comes to shove. But I can hide, for awhile." He meets Tony's eyes. "One condition: I'll need to send a message out. Secure channel, all necessary precautions taken. I won't have my friends crying over a fake corpse. And that includes the friends who still haven't registered."
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"Of course," he says. "Let them know you're alive you understand. Not where you are or what you're doing, or even who you are. I've told Carol; Hank Pym will have to find out. There's Jean obviously, and after that who knows is up to you. Wait, one exception --" He bites his lip. "I hate to say this, obviously, but SHIELD could be compromised. I have to ask you not to contact Sharon."
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The conversation has suddenly gotten terse and professional. Tony manages to be relieved and regretful at once.
Then he smiles and says, "If you say you want to call yourself Roger Stevens, I'll be forced to punch you in the face."
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"I'll be Wilson Buchanan," he says, getting serious again. He doesn't have to explain his reasoning. "I'll figure out more details later. And I guess I should disguise myself..." He lifts a lock of hair at his temple and directs his eyes upward.
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