Steve Rogers is not having a good day. He's just woken up from fourteen years of happiness to a world where the woman he loves (loved?) is a crying, depowered mess on the floor, where the man he loved (loves?) hates him and is completely willing to deny the world they just came out of, and where the daughter he knew (loved, loves, will always love) died as a baby. It's like coming out of the ice, but worse - because the War wasn't something he wanted to go back to. And, to top it all off, the entire world thinks he's dead. As far as bad days go, this one is one of the worst
( ... )
"Give me a reason --" He steps toward Steve but stops at the bottom of the stairs. Picking up his communicator, he continues, " -- a reason not to call Maria Hill, right now, and say, 'False alarm, it was a security check, Steve's right here at our secure facility in Wundagore, so why don't you just get over here with a crew of cape-killers and take him in?'" He slams a hand on the bannister. "One reason!"
He finishes descending the stairs and stands two feet away from Tony. "I turned myself in, Tony. I don't go back on my word." He holds out his arms, as if acquiescing to invisible handcuffs. "Make the call."
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.
Comments 41
Reply
Reply
He finishes descending the stairs and stands two feet away from Tony. "I turned myself in, Tony. I don't go back on my word." He holds out his arms, as if acquiescing to invisible handcuffs. "Make the call."
Reply
"Are you an idiot?"
Reply
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."
Reply
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."
Reply
"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.
Reply
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.
Reply
Leave a comment