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.
Steve threads the fingers of both hands into Tony's soft hair, still a little damp from the heat of the helmet, and holds his head close to his own as their mouths crush together, lips parting and tongues exploring new-old places. He keeps his eyes open, taking a second to memorize Tony's face as it's pressed against his own. In the other world, they were five years older than they are here; this is a face he remembers kissing, but so long ago the memories are dim. He takes a moment to appreciate the long, dark eyelashes, the sharp cheekbones, the forehead with so many fewer lines than it displayed a few hours ago.
And then he shuts his eyes again, stumbles back a few feet until his back has reached the wall again, and lets Tony take control. He knows this won't last - one or othe other of them will break this off soon, and then they'll go back to business. And then Steve will go wherever he needs to go, and they'll probably never talk about this again. But for right now, he's going to take what he can get.
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.
And that is what it takes to snap Tony back into reality. He continues kissing Steve, moving his hands down to his chest and shoulders, wanting badly to do more, to touch his hips and press against his thigh, to let his growing arousal take over and who cares that Wanda's right upstairs -- she's probably still miles from reality, and besides isn't that what she wanted.
But Tony as plays with that thought, he realizes his brain is already taking over, that it is already slowing him down and in a moment will stop him altogether. Maybe Steve really wants this, as much as Tony does, but probably he's just at the end of his rope, broken and scared and confused by the dream that Wanda imposed on them; that was Tony's dream, as much as Sally was apparently Steve's. It wouldn't be fair to Steve to take advantage of the situation. It would only make Steve hate him more later. His brain tells him all of this. Tony disengages, stepping back from Steve.
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 would only make the inevitable separation that much harder.
That, Steve suddenly realizes, is the reason he's been so resistant to Tony's plan. Because Tony is right - he wouldn't be fighting crime in prison, anyway, and he has a better chance of someday fighting again if he's alive and in hiding than if he's in the custody of the people who put him in the position to get shot.
But going in hiding means that he won't have any contact with Tony. Or with Sam, or Bucky (wherever he is), or Sharon, or Luke and Peter and Jessica and the rest of his team. He's going to be completely alone, and if there's one thing Steve Rogers has never been good at it's being alone. He's lost one world, today - one family - and now he's about to lose everything else. He knows he has to do it, knows it's the best option, but that knowledge is bitter comfort.
Steve looks up, finally, and makes eye contact with Tony. "We should have done this a long time ago," he says, sadly.
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. . .
"No." Tony breaks Steve's gaze, shaking his head. "I mean, yes. Maybe we should have done this a long time ago. Been honest with each other, gotten it out of our systems. But don't kid yourself that things would have turned out differently." He steps toward Steve, pointing a finger at his chest. "You've always made the choices that you thought were right. And whether you want to acknowledge it or not, so have I. Your friendship has always meant the goddamn world to me. But when push came to shove, this last time, it didn't make a difference to me, and it didn't make a difference to you. We both did what we thought we had to do. We would have ended up in exactly the same place. No matter what we did a long time ago. To suggest anything differently is an insult to our friendship. Do you understand?"
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.
But that universe is gone, and they can't turn back time, so maybe it's best just to pretend to agree. Or, at the very least, to avoid the question, and replace it with one of his own.
"Do we still have a friendship, at least?" Steve's voice is tentative and strangely vulnerable. "I know things have been bad, and I know you haven't forgiven me, and I haven't completely forgiven you, either, but despite all that... well, you're still the best friend I've ever had." He glances down, briefly, rubs the back of his neck with one hand, then looks up again. "I don't want to disappear with you still hating me."
Steve hopes that Tony will understand two things in his words. One, that, though he can't bring himself to actually say it in this world, when he says "You're the best friend I've ever had," what he really means is, "I love you." And two, that he's finally agreeing to Tony's plan for him to go in hiding.
"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.
He shakes his head. "No, this isn't about forgiveness. We fought. I won, you lost -- or at least you conceded -- and I'm the top dog right now. I'm sorry if pointing that out makes me an asshole. But --" He stops, and runs a hand down the lower part of his face, smoothing his beard. "I'm not an idiot. I understand history, and I understand the future, and I know fortune's wheel can take some pretty drastic turns. I'm the guy in charge now, but in six months, a year, two, who the hell knows? And when that happens, the world just might need Captain America again." His mouth twitches. "It's not like anybody's gonna believe you're dead anyway. Hell, how many times have I been dead?"
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.
"Ok," Steve says, acquiescing, but not without a hint of regret. "I won't contact her."
He frowns, pursing his lips. "I guess I'll need a new name for this, huh?"
"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.
"Wilson. . .?" Tony repeats, then stops and nods, because it's obvious. Sam and Bucky. Steve defining himself, somehow, both in terms of and against the people who matter to him. Tony decides not to think about that one any further, for the moment.
At the mention of disguise, he says, "I'll send some things with Carol. Tomorrow, hopefully. If you can bring yourself to stay put that long. If you think she'll --" Looking up toward toward Wanda's room, he winces. "I should say good-bye." He states this as a fact, not as something he is actually going to do. "She probably needs to sleep. Meanwhile I have to go deal with the shitstorm this is going to cause. Let the media rake my ass over the coals." As he says this, he starts to call up his armor, keeping an eye on Steve as the panels float toward him and start to attach to his body.
Tony doesn't know what reaction he expects -- gratitude, sympathy, or the hatred that he knows he, on some level, deserves. Standing across from Steve, his body now covered with armor, except for the visor that he wears up, tony holds out a metal-gloved hand. "Take care of yourself, Captain," he says.
Steve nods at Tony's words, watching as the armor slowly covers his body - the body he was just holding moments before. The metal builds a wall between them, literally, but Steve isn't prepared to let Tony close himself off completely. Not yet.
He takes the proferred metal glove in his own ungloved hand, as if to shake it, but instead he uses the gesture to tug Tony toward him, wrap his other arm around metal shoulders, and lean in for a last kiss. He keeps his mouth on the other man's lips long enough for Tony to respond, gentle and tentative, then pulls back and lets go.
"You too," he says. "Iron Man."
Then he watches as Tony snaps his visor shut, steps through Wanda's front door, and flies away.
Steve threads the fingers of both hands into Tony's soft hair, still a little damp from the heat of the helmet, and holds his head close to his own as their mouths crush together, lips parting and tongues exploring new-old places. He keeps his eyes open, taking a second to memorize Tony's face as it's pressed against his own. In the other world, they were five years older than they are here; this is a face he remembers kissing, but so long ago the memories are dim. He takes a moment to appreciate the long, dark eyelashes, the sharp cheekbones, the forehead with so many fewer lines than it displayed a few hours ago.
And then he shuts his eyes again, stumbles back a few feet until his back has reached the wall again, and lets Tony take control. He knows this won't last - one or othe other of them will break this off soon, and then they'll go back to business. And then Steve will go wherever he needs to go, and they'll probably never talk about this again. But for right now, he's going to take what he can get.
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And that is what it takes to snap Tony back into reality. He continues kissing Steve, moving his hands down to his chest and shoulders, wanting badly to do more, to touch his hips and press against his thigh, to let his growing arousal take over and who cares that Wanda's right upstairs -- she's probably still miles from reality, and besides isn't that what she wanted.
But Tony as plays with that thought, he realizes his brain is already taking over, that it is already slowing him down and in a moment will stop him altogether. Maybe Steve really wants this, as much as Tony does, but probably he's just at the end of his rope, broken and scared and confused by the dream that Wanda imposed on them; that was Tony's dream, as much as Sally was apparently Steve's. It wouldn't be fair to Steve to take advantage of the situation. It would only make Steve hate him more later.
His brain tells him all of this. Tony disengages, stepping back from Steve.
Sometimes, Tony really hates his brain.
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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 would only make the inevitable separation that much harder.
That, Steve suddenly realizes, is the reason he's been so resistant to Tony's plan. Because Tony is right - he wouldn't be fighting crime in prison, anyway, and he has a better chance of someday fighting again if he's alive and in hiding than if he's in the custody of the people who put him in the position to get shot.
But going in hiding means that he won't have any contact with Tony. Or with Sam, or Bucky (wherever he is), or Sharon, or Luke and Peter and Jessica and the rest of his team. He's going to be completely alone, and if there's one thing Steve Rogers has never been good at it's being alone. He's lost one world, today - one family - and now he's about to lose everything else. He knows he has to do it, knows it's the best option, but that knowledge is bitter comfort.
Steve looks up, finally, and makes eye contact with Tony. "We should have done this a long time ago," he says, sadly.
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"No." Tony breaks Steve's gaze, shaking his head. "I mean, yes. Maybe we should have done this a long time ago. Been honest with each other, gotten it out of our systems. But don't kid yourself that things would have turned out differently." He steps toward Steve, pointing a finger at his chest. "You've always made the choices that you thought were right. And whether you want to acknowledge it or not, so have I. Your friendship has always meant the goddamn world to me. But when push came to shove, this last time, it didn't make a difference to me, and it didn't make a difference to you. We both did what we thought we had to do. We would have ended up in exactly the same place. No matter what we did a long time ago. To suggest anything differently is an insult to our friendship. Do you understand?"
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But that universe is gone, and they can't turn back time, so maybe it's best just to pretend to agree. Or, at the very least, to avoid the question, and replace it with one of his own.
"Do we still have a friendship, at least?" Steve's voice is tentative and strangely vulnerable. "I know things have been bad, and I know you haven't forgiven me, and I haven't completely forgiven you, either, but despite all that... well, you're still the best friend I've ever had." He glances down, briefly, rubs the back of his neck with one hand, then looks up again. "I don't want to disappear with you still hating me."
Steve hopes that Tony will understand two things in his words. One, that, though he can't bring himself to actually say it in this world, when he says "You're the best friend I've ever had," what he really means is, "I love you." And two, that he's finally agreeing to Tony's plan for him to go in hiding.
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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.
He shakes his head. "No, this isn't about forgiveness. We fought. I won, you lost -- or at least you conceded -- and I'm the top dog right now. I'm sorry if pointing that out makes me an asshole. But --" He stops, and runs a hand down the lower part of his face, smoothing his beard. "I'm not an idiot. I understand history, and I understand the future, and I know fortune's wheel can take some pretty drastic turns. I'm the guy in charge now, but in six months, a year, two, who the hell knows? And when that happens, the world just might need Captain America again." His mouth twitches. "It's not like anybody's gonna believe you're dead anyway. Hell, how many times have I been dead?"
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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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"Ok," Steve says, acquiescing, but not without a hint of regret. "I won't contact her."
He frowns, pursing his lips. "I guess I'll need a new name for this, huh?"
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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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At the mention of disguise, he says, "I'll send some things with Carol. Tomorrow, hopefully. If you can bring yourself to stay put that long. If you think she'll --" Looking up toward toward Wanda's room, he winces. "I should say good-bye." He states this as a fact, not as something he is actually going to do. "She probably needs to sleep. Meanwhile I have to go deal with the shitstorm this is going to cause. Let the media rake my ass over the coals." As he says this, he starts to call up his armor, keeping an eye on Steve as the panels float toward him and start to attach to his body.
Tony doesn't know what reaction he expects -- gratitude, sympathy, or the hatred that he knows he, on some level, deserves. Standing across from Steve, his body now covered with armor, except for the visor that he wears up, tony holds out a metal-gloved hand. "Take care of yourself, Captain," he says.
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He takes the proferred metal glove in his own ungloved hand, as if to shake it, but instead he uses the gesture to tug Tony toward him, wrap his other arm around metal shoulders, and lean in for a last kiss. He keeps his mouth on the other man's lips long enough for Tony to respond, gentle and tentative, then pulls back and lets go.
"You too," he says. "Iron Man."
Then he watches as Tony snaps his visor shut, steps through Wanda's front door, and flies away.
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