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Tony
Hospital staff try so hard to distract you from the fact that other people have been sick in the same bed as you. They scrub all the surfaces until they sparkle, only to achieve an overwhelming stench of cleaning products, yet this room still isn't my own. The walls are too bare, and there's never anything good on daytime television. Steve's visits help, but they're monitored and limited, and the staff keep saying things like 'you need to rest'. If I never nap again, it'd be too soon.
Nurse Debby is in and out often, checking my vitals, checking my chart, talking my ear off about important things I wish I could tune out of...it's all just noise, anyway. It doesn't help that the painkillers they've been giving me make me too groggy to form coherent thoughts. All I can do is dissociate and stew in my irritation.
I'm daydreaming about assembling the prototype for my new prosthetic when the nurse returns once more, this time with more to offer than aftercare instructions: she comes bearing a wheelchair and a warm smile. "Are you ready, Mr. Stark?"
"I've been ready," I say, flinging back the covers. I accept her help into the seat. I want to propel myself out of here, but this chair isn't built for that, so I just tap my fingers against the armrests as she sets a leisurely pace down the hallways.
She wheels me into the waiting area, at which point Steve pops up from the couch and melts my heart with one of his...heart melting...smiles. I dunno, my brain too sludgy from my extended bed-riddance to think of anything more poetic. He's poetry in motion, anyway, so it's hard to improve on that.
"He's all yours," Nurse Debby chirps.
"Hell yeah I am."
"Thank you," Steve says, pointedly ignoring my previous statement— though his smirk gives him away. "Have a great day."
Steve hands me a pair of crutches, which I'm eager to accept. Even hobbling feels so freeing. He hovers by my side and lends a hand for support when I need it, and I pretend that I don't until I get to the stairs. Then I'm appreciative of his chivalry.
The California sun is so bright, and so hopeful.
He turns to me once we're both settled in the car. "How do you feel?"
"Like a burger. Can we stop at McDonalds?"
"Tony, if I could buy you the whole franchise, I would."
"I'll settle for a burger."
Steve's nose scrunches when he laughs. "A burger it is, then."
"It's our last night in the west coast, we should do something tonight," I say.
"Yeah? Any requests?"
"Hey, I already suggested McDonalds. You can take the helm from there, darling."
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We end up at the beach on a cheap picnic blanket that crinkles every time we shift our weight, squinting against the setting sun. Steve's fingers are laced with mine. His shoulder is under my temple. "This feels very stereotypical," I say.
"Hm." Steve digs into the paper bag that he's been holding between his knees and produces a packet of fries and a hamburger. He passes the burger to me, which I snatch eagerly, and pops a fry into his mouth. "Is that bad?"
"Nah, I just feel like we need to ride off into the sunset or something to really top it off."
"Damn, if only I had a horse."
I exhale a laugh into my burger, sending a pickle to its sandy doom. "I'm sorry, I cannot imagine you riding a horse."
"What if I was your knight in shining armor?"
"Maybe if you were wearing ass-less chaps."
He pushes my shoulder, just enough to sway me off balance. I grin and shove him in retaliation.
I wish I could bundle up this moment and keep it in my pocket. Steve's eyes shining like the reflections on the ocean, soft music wafting on the breeze from someone else's speakers, junk food dripping grease between us...none of this would come out in a photograph, but it's worthy of a frame.
There used to be days, nights, when I thought that maybe I should've died to the snap. I used to think that maybe we pulled a fast one on the cosmos, and the universe has just been laying in wait to collect my dues. That maybe I didn't deserve to be one of the survivors. That maybe living just wasn't the same anymore.
I think, now, it's time to appreciate the universe's decision to keep me in it. And the people around me that helped make that happen. The man who saw a future in me, too.
Steve's phone buzzes, and he glances at the notification. "Sam says he wants to get everyone together tonight for drinks before we leave."
"Sounds perfect," I say. "I have a toast I'd like to make."
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I have a toast I'm going to try to make. My famous overconfidence is wavering now that I've been presented a window of opportunity, a lull in conversation. I've been lubing up my public speaking skills with cocktails all night, downing as many as Steve will allow me to ingest without inducing another Christmas Party Fiasco (his words, not mine, I think that was some of my finest work). I suppose I'm ready as I'll ever be.
I use the back of my chair to push myself upright and clink a metal finger against my glass, suddenly facing a a quiet room full of friends with color in their cheeks, studying me with varying levels of amusement and interest. No turning back now. I plaster on a grin and hope it helps mask the nerves that alcohol has only partially smoothed out. "Friends, colleagues, fellow Avengers. I have an announcement to make, and I'm gonna need your undivided attention. But...god, that's a lot of eyes. If a few of you could like, look over there—"
"Tony," Steve says, his tone soft but cautionary.
Right, the point.
"Well, first order of business...how about that heist? Boy, what a stinker. But hey, celebrate being alive, right? Cheers to that."
They brandish their glasses with a hint of apprehension.
"No one could have expected it," I continue, "But, uh...unexpected things happen all the time, and it's not always bad. Sometimes things happen, and it's confusing at first, but in the end you decide that you still love and support your friend and don't want to hurt his feelings. So you reserve your judgment for when he's turned around and out of earshot. You know?"
The silence is palpable; even Steve doesn't have anything to say, instead blushing into his drink. Scott offers a faint "Woo!" from the back of the bar.
"Yeah, cheers to that, bud." I tip my glass towards him.
"Tony, can you get there?" Rhodey says.
"Okay, picture this: two of your coworkers have a rivalry so strong they nearly throttle each other on multiple occasions, but then they realize they're actually not so different, or rather, they're not different in an incompatible sort of way. Now, imagine now that these two start dating, and they really really care about each other. A lot," I say. "Are you imagining it?"
I'm met with a sea of concerned faces. No affirmatives, no negatives. I can see the gears turning, especially in Natasha; she glances from me, to Steve, back to me, and arches an eyebrow.
"I'm there, man," Scott says.
"Thanks, means a lot. Okay, anyway. Uh. Good. Now that you have a clear mental image, just one quick...minuscule...tweak, nothing major, but—those two beloved friends and coworkers are me and Steve. Me and Steve are a couple. Cheers!" I raise my glass again and down the rest of it in one gulp, while the room erupts into muddled chaos.
Rhodey's the first to reinstate some semblance of order, gesturing for everyone to pipe down. He takes a moment to study my face. "You're serious," he says. It almost sounds like a question, but
I know he's already made the determination.
"I told him to let me handle the announcement," Steve says.
"You don't have the emotional range, honey, I'm sorry. You and I both know it would have sounded like a eulogy."
Rhodey clears his throat. "Well, I can't say I'm not surprised." He's smiling now, too. "But I hope it goes without saying that if you guys are happy, I'm happy too."
"You bastards," Natasha interjects. "I can't believe you managed to keep this from me for this long. The clues were right there, too—I should've known from the second you two started bickering like a married couple."
"To be fair, we did that before we started dating, too," I say.
She laughs. "Well, in any case, I'm throwing my support in the ring. You two are like family to me, of course I'm going to have your back. Like family should. Congratulations, boys."
"That's something I'll drink to," Sam says. "You're gonna have to explain how the hell you got to this point, though. That must be quite the story."
"I still don't know either of you very well but yeah, love and support!" Scott shouts, pumping his fist in the air. I blow him a kiss.
Steve stands and makes his way over to my other side, wrapping an arm around my waist. Partially, I'm sure, because I've begun to wobble, though the gentle squeeze tells me it's also more than that. It's an acknowledgment. Our own personal celebration.
He turns to the audience and extends his glass. "Well, I'd like to make a toast, as well. To all of our wonderful friends, and the gift of warmth, patience, and kindness they've given us on this day. We are truly grateful."
Everyone raises their glasses, and the room is filled with a chorus of overwhelming positivity. It chokes me up a little bit, looking out at a crowd of friends and knowing, for certain now, that they'll refuse to leave my side for anything. And then Steve sets his glass down and grabs me by the chin, pulling me into a kiss.
"How's that for emotional range?" Steve says, just to me.
"It's gonna take a while to get used to that," Natasha says, coming over to give Steve an affirming pat on the shoulder. She smiles at me. "You guys are cute together."
And then they're all gravitating around us, offering pats on the back and one-armed hugs. Scott gives me and Steve high-fives. Steve's a little over-eager, leaving Scott's palm tomato red.
Rhodey nudges me gently. "So, Steve, you gonna help keep this one in line?"
"I dunno, Rhodes. I think that's asking a bit much of me," Steve says through a smirk mostly aimed at me.
"Hey, I'm right here." I pick up my glass and inspect the pointed lack of alcohol. "Anyone up for another round, on me?"
"I'm not gonna pass that up," Nat says.
The next hour is a bubbly blur of laughter, conversation, clinking glasses. An unexpected yet appreciated celebration. They have a lot of questions— "So, who initiated it?" "He kissed me first." "Okay, but you were totally coming onto me." "Was I? I can't recall." And the like. They seem genuinely curious how we've been able to make it work. Steve says that it's been surprisingly easy, and I question his use of the word "surprisingly."
Even though the night is going much better than I could have ever imagined, there's something eating away at the back of my brain. Festering. I think maybe I should table it for another day, until I look at Steve—bright eyes, arm wrapped around my shoulder, happy and confident— and I remember wanting to snap off a piece of that confidence and keep it for myself. I wonder if now could be that moment.
I clear my throat. "You know, there's...something else I should probably add to my toast. If you'll humor me."
Everyone turns back to me.
I lock eyes with Steve, who has raised an eyebrow with unspoken but mutually understood curiosity. "I'm hanging up the suit for a while." I hold up a hand as the rest of them start preparing their protests. "Not just because of the leg situation. And I don't know for how long, so don't ask. Any further questions, or should we clink glasses and move along with our night?"
The table falls into the second stunned silence of the night.
"Tony, I know how rough this last mission was on you, but—" Nat starts.
"You can't just drop a bomb like that, man, we need you," Sam says. "Who's gonna fill your shoes when you're gone?"
"First off, is that an intentional joke? I only have the one shoe and it wouldn't fit any of you assholes, so don't even think about it. And besides, I already told you, it's not about the mission. I just have some... personal battles that I think I'd like to win, first." I turn back to Steve.
"Different priorities."
He offers a wistful smile and squeezes my shoulder. "Whatever you need, Tony."
"Do you think you'll ever get back out there?" Rhodey asks.
"Hell if I know. Maybe I should get Strange to read my future. He can do that, right?"
Nat reaches over to clasp my hand. "We'll miss you, Tony."
"Please, I'm not gonna give you the luxury of missing me. I'm moving back into Avenger Tower. Effective...soon, I don't know. Forgive me for not smoothing out the details, I just came up with it on the spot. Impressive, no?"
The table erupts again. Rhodey cradles his forehead in his hands. "If you keep dropping bombs like this, Tony, I'm gonna need you to buy a round of Aspirin instead."
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It's some ungodly hour in the morning when our plane finally touches down on familiar, snow-frosted territory. Steve chauffeurs me back to my place, with the very unconvincing intention of dropping me off, getting me settled, and taking his car the rest of the way to his apartment. I stand in the doorway and wait for him to process the indisputable fact that he's not leaving my house tonight.
He tries to pass me the backpack filled with borrowed items and dollar-store toiletries, and I just push it back into his hands. "Keep em. You can huff my gym shorts if you get lonely."
"I hate you."
"Seriously, though, I don't care if you keep that stuff."
"Okay." He slings it over his shoulder and leans in for a kiss, which I eagerly accept. I'm only using one of my crutches, so I allow him to be my anchor, pushing against his broad chest and running my fingers through his hair. I gather it at the crown of his head and give a gentle tug.
He makes a low, quiet noise. Maybe he says something, but I don't hear it, I just feel the movements of his lips against mine.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and creates some space between us. "It's late," he says. "I should probably..."
"Stay over? Go home in the morning? Good idea, wish I had thought of it."
A smile pulls up the corners of his lips, slowly, messily—like he's too tired to properly control the motor functions in his face. "Read my mind."
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I nestle my face into his neck. He smells like hotel soap still, something woody and fresh, and I can feel a tiny bit of stubble growing in on the underside of his chin. I wrap my arm around his bare chest and he, in turn, pulls me tighter, before his muscles relax around me once more. He's fading into sleep, I can tell. His whole body is relaxing. His breathing is regulating. It tickles the top of my head.
"I love you," I whisper.
"I love you too," he mumbles. I almost can't hear it.
I run my fingers along his collarbone. He shivers under my touch.
"Steve."
"Mhm."
"I know I sprung everything on you, and everyone, at once."
"You're full of surprises."
"Outside of what the Avengers think, just between you and me..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I made the right decision?"
He turns his head a little. I think he's trying to look at me. "That's not for me to decide. But I'm with you, no matter what you choose to do." He yawns mid-sentence and flops a limp hand onto my face. "No matter where you go."
"So what you're saying is, you're a freeloader."
"You're the one that invited me inside."
"Damn, it always comes back to that, huh?"
Steve yawns again, lifting my whole upper body with his heaving chest. I think he tries to say something through it. He ends up trailing off. I let the silence linger for a while, listening instead to his rhythmic heartbeat.
"Steve?" I whisper.
No response.
I snuggle closer into him and close my own eyes, allowing a good-nights-sleep to claim a second victim.
I don't remember my dreams.
But they leave me with an ever-present sense of hope.