TM-217: Engagement
[OOC: House of TM ‘verse ficlet, obviously. And totally sappy at that, you've been warned. iron_tony used with permission. Written in honor of National Freedom to Marry Day - a portrait of a better world.]
Picture prompt: Write a ficlet inspired by the following image: Ring/Book
He didn’t need to propose. They’d as good as agreed to marriage on the day that they’d gone public with their relationship, in a confident press conference three years before. Or, if things were still a bit too uncertain then, they’d definitely agreed by the day the adoption papers for Sally Stark-Rogers were officially processed with both of their names in the appropriate spots. And they’d certainly been in agreement by the time they began the campaign to fight against legislative injustice and earn the right to make relationships like theirs equal to all others in the eyes of the law. They were fighting for the general good, of course - for the citizens of America, collectively. But they’d have been lying if they’d said that they didn’t have a personal interest in the outcome of the case they were bringing to the Supreme Court.
Steve hadn’t even bought a ring. It didn’t seem practical, with the lives they lived. No article of clothing could be expected to survive the kinds of battles they fought on a daily basis, and Steve knew that losing rings would be far more upsetting than not having them to begin with.
Still, it didn’t seem right not to make it official. Steve had been raised with the best of manners, and however different this marriage was from any that Mr. and Mrs. Rogers may have envisioned for their son, Steve was determined to do it right.
When the decision came down, and the clerk came in and read it to the assembled plaintiffs, Steve felt himself overcome by emotion. Half of that emotion was pride in the country to which he had sworn his allegiance over sixty years earlier, pride in its continued ability to fix its past mistakes and live up to its foundational ideals. But the other half was a groundswell of relief, joy, and love for the man sitting next to him, the man who he gripped close to him in a joyous, celebratory hug.
The press was waiting just outside the main doors. There would be statements to make, cameras to smile at. But first, there was something Steve had to do.
Putting a hand on Tony's shoulder, Steve led him out into an empty hallway, far from the prying ears and eyes of the rest of the courthouse and the milieu outside. And then he dropped to one knee, and took Tony’s hand in both of his own.
“Steve…” Tony said, looking down. But he didn’t pull his hand away.
“Just… let me do this.” Steve had never been very good at verbalizing these sorts of things, but right here, right now, he was damn sure going to try.
“I was born in 1921,” he began. “And by all rights, you and I should never have met. I should have been an old man by the time you were twenty, if I even survived that long. But fate had other plans.”
He swallowed, and smiled, and gripped Tony’s hand even tighter.
“When I woke up from the ice, I woke up to the future. And you represented everything wonderful about that future. Its culture, its technology. Its heroes. And, most importantly and surprisingly of all, a love I could never have anticipated in 1945. And while I’m not naïve or selfish enough to believe that fate brought me to this future just so I could meet you… I’m awfully glad it was part of the bargain.”
He cleared his throat, and looked directly into the blue of Tony’s eyes.
“With all of that said… Anthony Edward Stark, will you marry me?”
There wasn’t a surprise. There wasn’t even a ring. But when Tony said yes, with a smile so wide even his businessman cool couldn’t temper it, Steve didn’t think he could imagine a better, happier moment.
Picture prompt: Write a ficlet inspired by the following image: Ring/Book
He didn’t need to propose. They’d as good as agreed to marriage on the day that they’d gone public with their relationship, in a confident press conference three years before. Or, if things were still a bit too uncertain then, they’d definitely agreed by the day the adoption papers for Sally Stark-Rogers were officially processed with both of their names in the appropriate spots. And they’d certainly been in agreement by the time they began the campaign to fight against legislative injustice and earn the right to make relationships like theirs equal to all others in the eyes of the law. They were fighting for the general good, of course - for the citizens of America, collectively. But they’d have been lying if they’d said that they didn’t have a personal interest in the outcome of the case they were bringing to the Supreme Court.
Steve hadn’t even bought a ring. It didn’t seem practical, with the lives they lived. No article of clothing could be expected to survive the kinds of battles they fought on a daily basis, and Steve knew that losing rings would be far more upsetting than not having them to begin with.
Still, it didn’t seem right not to make it official. Steve had been raised with the best of manners, and however different this marriage was from any that Mr. and Mrs. Rogers may have envisioned for their son, Steve was determined to do it right.
When the decision came down, and the clerk came in and read it to the assembled plaintiffs, Steve felt himself overcome by emotion. Half of that emotion was pride in the country to which he had sworn his allegiance over sixty years earlier, pride in its continued ability to fix its past mistakes and live up to its foundational ideals. But the other half was a groundswell of relief, joy, and love for the man sitting next to him, the man who he gripped close to him in a joyous, celebratory hug.
The press was waiting just outside the main doors. There would be statements to make, cameras to smile at. But first, there was something Steve had to do.
Putting a hand on Tony's shoulder, Steve led him out into an empty hallway, far from the prying ears and eyes of the rest of the courthouse and the milieu outside. And then he dropped to one knee, and took Tony’s hand in both of his own.
“Steve…” Tony said, looking down. But he didn’t pull his hand away.
“Just… let me do this.” Steve had never been very good at verbalizing these sorts of things, but right here, right now, he was damn sure going to try.
“I was born in 1921,” he began. “And by all rights, you and I should never have met. I should have been an old man by the time you were twenty, if I even survived that long. But fate had other plans.”
He swallowed, and smiled, and gripped Tony’s hand even tighter.
“When I woke up from the ice, I woke up to the future. And you represented everything wonderful about that future. Its culture, its technology. Its heroes. And, most importantly and surprisingly of all, a love I could never have anticipated in 1945. And while I’m not naïve or selfish enough to believe that fate brought me to this future just so I could meet you… I’m awfully glad it was part of the bargain.”
He cleared his throat, and looked directly into the blue of Tony’s eyes.
“With all of that said… Anthony Edward Stark, will you marry me?”
There wasn’t a surprise. There wasn’t even a ring. But when Tony said yes, with a smile so wide even his businessman cool couldn’t temper it, Steve didn’t think he could imagine a better, happier moment.