[Dream | Week 6, Day 7]
The air is crisp, fresh and cool. There is a soft breeze that makes the trees shiver around them, that tickles the hair on the back of Steve's neck
Steve and Tony are lying on the hood of one of Tony's ridiculously expensive, ridiculously fast cars.
Tony says it's of the most modern cars on the market.
Steve thinks it looks like a glorified electric shaver.
They're parked in the middle of a vast clearing some where in Upstate, New York. Tony had insisted they'd get out of the city, at least for a couple hours. “All this smog isn't good for anyone, with or without the Serum keeping your lungs in perfect shape,” he'd said, before dragging Steve out of the Avengers Mansion.
True, the past month had been the longest time Steve had spent in the city straight, but with all the hubbub about the Avengers and Captain America joining the team he'd been carted from one press release to the next. It seemed like he hardly got any time to himself, let alone any time to spend with his friends. So when Tony had asked him to come with him for a drive he didn't protest, even though it was the middle of the night.
They'd been lying in comfortable, familiar silence for at least an hour. That wasn't unusual for them-- the first few weeks after Steve was defrosted, he'd lived at Stark Tower with Tony, and could often be found in the workshop where Tony slaved away on his creations. They would share the space, Tony banging and shuffling around building things, breaking things, while Steve enjoyed the company-- maybe he would just watch his friend work, or draw quietly. They both had been so lonely before meeting; it was nice to have a friend near by.
Steve looks up at the sky, watches the stars in all their twinkling, shining glory. You can't see the stars from the Mansion, the pollution and light in Manhattan blocked them out .
He squints, watches something that looks like it's a star streak across the sky but it can't be-- it's moving too fast, and it doesn't have a tail. He strains his enhanced eyes, trying to figure out what it is. An alien invasion? The Fantastic Four, crashing after a dangerous mission? A portal into an alternate dimension maybe, where there's an alternate version of the Avengers team but they're all evil and have goatees (except Tony, because Good Tony has a goatee, so naturally an Evil Tony wouldn't)?
Oh wait. No, it's just a satellite. Right.
Tony had explained this to him, during those first few weeks after S.H.I.E.L.D. released him. Giant computers, launched into space to record information.
“Tony?"
“Mmm?”
Steve cranes his neck to the side to look at his friend. Tony is such a handsome man: A strong jaw, that neatly groomed facial hair, sun-kissed tanned skin, those thick biceps and rough calloused hands, the hands of some one who builds, creates, imagines. And, of course, those dark, deep steel-blue eyes.
A fond smile, any woman should be happy to have him.
“Satellites,” Steve starts, and Tony hums again in acknowledgment, “do they ever collide? You know, run into one another.” It's a stupid question, Steve knows that, but if there was ever a person to ask this question it was Steve, 1940s-Boy, and if there was ever a person to answer it it was Tony, Molder of the Future.
A soft, amused laugh. Not mocking, “No, uh. Not often,” He turns, wearing one of those brilliant smiles Steve only sees rarely. When Tony does smile, it's usually that fake one for the press. But when it's just the two of them Tony had this sweet, secret smile, one so disarming Steve can't help but echo it
Looking at that smile, something unlocks, unfurls in Steve. Something that says, “Relax, don't worry about the mission. Be here. Be now.”
“Don't worry about it,” Tony continues, “I've got it covered, they can see each other.” And then he's looking back up at the sky
Their friendship is unlike any other Steve has ever had. They were so opposite, most people didn't understand how they could get along so well. Sure they argued, a lot, but where Steve floundered, Tony was there to smooth things over, and vice versa. What the one lacked, the other made up for in excess.
Steve, easily embarrassed and bashful, could feel and act assured when standing next to Tony, who was so full of confidence and pride.
Tony, who was so easily lost in the haze of ethics and accountability, could wrestle his demons a little easier with Steve's guidance and his unerring moral compass.
In this line of work, hero business, life expectancy was low and Steve knew that better then anyone. Any day, any mission, any fight, they could lose, they could die. It wasn't something Steve liked to think about, but it was the reality of it. But when Steve faced the last fight, he hoped Tony would be there with him; at his side, at his back. Steve couldn't imagine anyone he would want there more. He hoped they could say like this forever, be close like this for all time.
Steve hesitates a moment longer, looks at his friend. His best friend. The friend that he's sure he will have for the rest of his life. He looks back up at the flickering night sky above them.
[ooc: if your character is touching the Hitomi and not completely emotionally inept they'll probably pick up on the fact that Steve's feelings for Tony aren't exactly platonic. Do with that what you will.]