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His footsteps sounded the same. Even after so many years, after all the battles fought, Tony’s breath caught at the familiar stride up the stairwell. He wasn’t running to Tony alone, not yet at least. But if he was here, that meant he’d found the note. It was not an apology or a surrender, yet still, those footsteps were here.
The wind sliced through the air, whipping Tony’s coat around his legs. He’d left the suit at home. A calculated decision because, considering all the variables-- their relationship, their given agendas and their pride-- Tony had an 83% certainty that Steve Rogers would refrain from slamming his shield into Tony’s skull.
Not today, not here.
The footsteps ran passed his floor. Then the sound of glass breaking, the whish of the shield, gunshots. And for one, fleeting, horrible, moment Tony wondered if he was about to get arrested. Glass fell onto the rooftop by his feet, and he kept his eye on the bridge in the distance. New York looked so beautiful at night and if this was the last thing he’d see, at least it was here, this view, the one that had acted as a backdrop to so many of his favorite fantasies and memories.
Red entered his periphery, it broke through the black and grays of night. His whole body yearned to turn to the Captain, but he kept his eye on the bridge.
It only took a second for Tony to hear that Steve was now alone, the others silenced by Steve’s fists and shield. Tony couldn't care in the slightest. He saw Steve move, push his cowl back, and Tony had to remind himself to breathe.
“You going to say, hello?” Tony could hear the smile in Steve’s words, and it made him break, look away from the bridge. Steve was an icon in his uniform, but uncertainty was sketched into the flush of his cheeks, how he rubbed his neck, licked his lips.
“Hello.” Tony’s softly spoken word was swept away by another gust of wind but Steve didn’t seem to care, just stepped forward as if he had heard Tony’s greeting. “I see you decoded the gps coordinates,” Tony continued, louder, trying to force confidence into his voice and knowing he had failed. Of course he had failed. He could never wear a mask around Steve, not when his cowl was off and the Iron Man suit was far away..
Steve had moved closer. Tony could feel the warmth radiating from his hand, where it rested inches above Tony’s shoulder, before he closed the space, connecting them.
“I didn’t need to decode the message,” Steve replied, slotting himself into the space behind Tony, facing the river. When he spoke, his words were right by Tony’s ear, and their timbre sparked goosebumps down his neck, made him lean into Steve’s weight. “As soon as I saw the paper lying on my desk, I knew.”
“Really?” Tony whispered. “I never thought someone would associate me with paper.” His joke fell flat into the night but Steve chuckled anyway, his hands coming up to rub at Tony’s arms through his coat. Heat seared, following Steve’s large hands and it was so easy to forget that there was a War and they were on opposite sides when they were slotted into each other like two worn puzzle pieces.
“I missed you too.”
“I never said I missed you,” Tony lied, letting Steve’s hand come up and turn his cheek so that their gazes finally met. Blue and open, honest and kind. Not a sign of Cap, just his Steve. “I missed you.”
Any uncertainty faded from Steve’s face as he whispered, “I know,” before closing the space between them
His lips still tasted the same. Even after so many years, after all the vile words they’d spat at one another, Tony surged forward at the familiar taste, parting under Steve’s tongue. It was almost too much, the soft skin reminding him of countless other kisses. He remembered their first, right at this spot, right on this day, thirteen years ago. Steve had been so young, happy and flushed from flying. His arms had still been wrapped around Tony. Steve had been in his uniform, just like today. But now Tony wasn’t hidden behind layers of metal, he could feel every line of muscle and strength under the red, white and blue.
Steve’s hand came up to grip the back of Tony’s head, and Tony moaned, sliding his hands into Steve’s hair and gripping, hard.
“It’s been too long,” Tony gasped as he pushed back, only to bite at the uniform collar.
“A year.”
“We have to stop meeting like this.”
The wind brought with it the sounds of shouting and Tony groaned when it pulled Steve’s attention away from him. When he turned back to Tony, those blue eyes were still open, but now all Tony could see in them was regret. Resolve.
“I--”
“You have to go,” Tony interrupted, because it was easier to say the words than hear them.
They surged forward at the same time for one more kiss, one last taste, even as the unfamiliar footsteps of Steve’s new companions grew closer.
Tony stepped back first, made it easier for Steve to pull away. The warmth was still there, pressing against his coat, even as the wind picked up as if it was eager to take every reminder of Steve from him.
“Till next year,” Steve said, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then he pulled the cowl back on and sprinted towards the stairwell.
Tony turned back to the skyline, back to the bridge, and listened as Steve’s footsteps fell away. “Till next year,” Tony whispered into the now empty night.