* * * *
So, that happened. He had poured his heart out to some ex-army guy. He probably should worry about it, but strangely enough, he didn't. It was... nice... being able to talk about it. In the last few days he had felt lighter in a way he hadn't in weeks. Even if Steve was still mostly a stranger to him, just having someone know about it, made it more real, yes, but it also made it easier to bear.
Also, trusting Steve with his secret seemed to have broken down a barrier between them, leaving the vague possibility that they could actually become friends.
"You could wear a scarf," the blonde offered next to him. "That or make-up."
Tony groaned, staring in the mirror in front of him. His crimson shirt was open except for a few buttons, the lines around the reactor painfully visible, but it didn't matter anymore, did it? Steve knew, Steve had already seen it several times now, and Steve didn't care that he looked like a complex circuit board.
"Can't we just say you ravished me and left a very elaborate birthday-hickey?"
Steve chuckled. It really was a beautiful sound. "If I were to leave a birthday-hickey, it wouldn't be on your neck."
Tony's gaze snapped upwards to study Steve's expression. Amusement had switched to horror in record time. His eyes widened almost comically, and he took a step back from where he had just been hovering over Tony. "Oh God, that came out so wrong. I didn't mean it like that."
Normally, this would be the part where Tony seized upon Steve's admission like a shark. He would be making with the eye-sex, and suggest they head somewhere a little more cozy to consummate this new and very exciting revelation. But as it were, Tony just laughed, waving him off as he began to button up his shirt. "Nothing wrong with finding me attractive."
"I really don't," Steve assured him immediately, before he backpedaled. "I mean. No. You are attractive of course. I'm just not into..." he trailed off, obviously unsure of where to go with his.
"Men?" Tony offered.
"Superiors," Steve finished, revealing a little powder box. He started to dab the little sponge on Tony's neck, and now that he was close again, Tony noticed faint traces of a cologne that he didn't recognize, but somehow reminded him of a different time altogether.
"But you are into men?" he asked, because he just couldn't help himself.
"That..." Steve said, and the little smile was back. A guy like Steve should always be smiling. "...is none of your business, Mr. Stark."
"Oh come on, you made me pour my heart out. Quite literally. You owe me one, Mr. Rowan."
Something flickered across Steve's eyes at the mention of his last name, but for some twenty-odd year old soldier he was frustratingly hard to read. "You already owed me one for the dramatics at Monaco. I think we're even."
"Now that's just hurtful, Steven. I am hurt. I thought we had this deep trust exchange thing going on here."
"Yeah," Steve said so quietly, Tony could barely hear it.
"Come again?"
"Just turn around," Steve said, and now it sounded like an order, and for whatever reason, Tony followed. He had a feeling he'd follow Steve anywhere. He started dabbing powder at him again, and a companionable silence fell about them. There was already music blasting through every floor of the villa, the bass making the walls hum steadily. Most of the guests had probably already arrived.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked after some time. Steve only hummed, not taking his eyes of the work at hand. "If this was your last birthday..."
The movement stopped. "It won't be," Steve said, like he simply could will the palladium out of Tony's blood stream. Well, if anyone was stubborn enough to achieve that, it would be Steve.
"But if it were. What would you do with it?" He looked up to find Steve staring straight into his eyes. Not through the mirror, but directly into his face. He stood right in front of Tony, a hand slowly pressing over the arc reactor.
Tony couldn't stop the little flinch he gave at that, but he remained right where he was.
"You're not listening to me," Steve told him. "When I say we'll work this out, I don't mean that in the It will all magically turn out okay way. We'll find a solution, and we will cure you." His gaze dropped to his side, as did his fingers, and Tony already missed the warmth of his touch. "And then you can go back to being your attractive annoying self."
"Aha!" Tony cried, pointing a finger at Steve, who was putting the powder box back in the upper desk drawer. "So you are into men."
"Neither confirming nor denying." Steve sing-songed, his smile wide and a little gleeful.
He smirked at that and shook his head. "Well then," he took the martini to his left in his hand and toasted, "this one's gotta count, right?" He downed it in one go, setting the glass back on the desk and made to leave.
"Tony." Steve called out behind him, moving closer. "If this was my last birthday, I—I'd make sure the people I loved knew that I loved them. If I had the choice, I would not leave anything unsaid."
There was a story behind that and Tony itched to know all about it, but this wasn't the time or place for it. Steve grabbed his own dinner jacket from the armchair and came to a halt at Tony's side. He gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just saying..."
"No, I–" Tony sighed, one hand on the door frame, the other loosely hanging at his side. "You're right. It's just, I know I'm not the easiest person, but Pepper and Rhodey and Happy, they... love me, the poor bastards, and if I tell them now, all the time I have left with them will be bitter and sad. And I'm a selfish asshole. I want to remember them the way they are now: annoyed as hell but secretly glad about it."
Steve nodded, and he looked so understanding that the urge to forget all else and just curl up in his arms became almost unbearably strong. "Then just—tell them everything else."
Tony smiled a little. And then he blinked and looked down, realizing that his hand had somehow clasped around Steve's, and his heart skipped a beat. God—that felt so normal. He pulled back and could've sworn that there had been fingers brushing back against his.
"You ready?" he asked softly, tipping his head to where the music and cheering was coming from.
Steve followed his gaze and furrowed his eyebrows. "You sure you wanna go in there with me? I'd understand it if–"
"Oh Steve, for fuck's sake, let's go." And yes, he grabbed his hand again, actually not giving a shit about whatever anyone was thinking about him, and more reveling in the peace that rolled through his skin. This thing between them that had started to blossom after Monaco—this wondrous undefined but steadfast and soothing thing—made him feel very warm and very calm.
He knew the peace couldn't last, though. He would have to tell the others eventually. He had to let them know what would happen. He needed to watch them grieve. It was only fair to take a part of their pain with him, after all.
And then—then he had to tell Steve how he had kept him from completely falling apart.
Perhaps tonight was just the boost he needed.
