Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Steve kisses Tony, it’s in the cockpit of the Quinjet, right in the middle of Tony insisting that no, I’m fine Rogers, I don’t need to go lie down, and someone needs to fly this contraption properly.

Steve could have argued with him right back, could have pointed out that the Quinjet can operate just fine on autopilot (which of course Tony knows better than anyone, he just likes the extra point in his favor), could have stood there against the cockpit door with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed until Tony finally caves in with a sigh and a murmur about Steve being such a mother-hen, like he does every time.

The light from the cockpit window slants its way across the arc of Tony’s cheekbones. There’s a bloodied cut on his chin that Steve knows he hasn’t dealt with yet, and the exhaustion in his eyes stirs to life an answering tiredness in Steve’s bones that never really leaves.

Tony opens his mouth to say something when he spots Steve—a familiar barb, maybe, or concern dressed up in a pointed quip. Something itches under Steve’s skin at the sight of him, something he’s been trying to ignore for weeks, months, maybe even years.

He should have pushed it aside, like he always did.

Instead, Steve crosses the three steps that separate him from Tony in the cockpit. One breathless pause, his eyes locked on Tony’s—

He knows it’s a bad idea before it even happens—he kisses Tony anyway.

Their mouths meet in a contradiction of softness and desperation, Steve’s hands tangled in Tony’s hair. Steve hauls him closer with one arm around Tony’s waist, Tony melting into him with a moan. He’s kissing Tony, and it’s good, so good, better than he ever would have ever let himself imagine—not that he ever let it get that far.

Steve sinks into the kiss for one long moment, wishing he could lose himself in it, could spend minutes and hours and days learning the exact curve of Tony’s mouth under his.

But then he’s pulling away, and the words come spilling out before Steve can stop himself. Sorry, this is a bad idea. It would be a mistake.

Because Tony may be on a break with Pepper right now, but they’ve gotten back together before. Because Steve doesn’t want to be a rebound. Because some days, Steve wakes up not remembering what year he’s in. Because if things go south, then the team will crack and splinter and break apart, and they’re all that Steve really has.

I’m sorry, Tony. This was a bad idea, Steve says again, and Tony’s face closes like shutters on a window. 

It stings, even though he deserves it.

Steve doesn’t say I shouldn’t have kissed you. He wonders if that makes any difference to Tony.

The next time Steve kisses Tony, it’s at a party, and it’s an accident. 

Steve’s wary about the prospect, because they haven’t had the best track record with parties lately, but everyone else is excited and he doesn’t have the heart to spoil their fun.

Steve thinks about texting Tony, asking him if he’s coming down for the evening. 

He doesn’t, in the end.

It’s only been a few weeks since Tony’s left the team, since Steve watched him speed away to his dream of a quiet life with Pepper with too much to say and nothing to say at all.

He’s still not sure what to say. They’ve kept in sporadic touch in the last couple of months, mostly texting about an Avengers mission here and there. For all that Tony talked about tapping out, Steve knows he still can’t let go. 

Tony does come to the party. 

He arrives, fashionably late as usual, heading straight to Rhodey to wrap him in a bear hug. Steve watches him make his rounds from his seat at the bar, greeting Natasha with a kiss on the cheek, clapping Thor on the shoulder, ending up in a hushed conversation with Vision across the room.

He doesn’t look for Steve in the crowd. Not once.

The mead that Thor had filled his glass with at the start of the evening is honeyed and cloying on Steve’s tongue, but he likes the tingling after-effect and the way his thoughts start getting just a little hazy, so he keeps going back for more.

He doesn’t realize it’s getting him drunk until he’s already there, and by then, it doesn’t seem that important.

Then someone gets the music going. It’s loud and thrumming in Steve’s body, and there’s more than one responding cheer. Before he knows it, Sam has cajoled him to join in with the others, even as he’s insisting that he doesn’t dance.

He finds himself in the middle of the crowd, trying to move his arms to the beat like Natasha, who’s also pulled Rhodey on to the dance floor. The lights are bright, almost blinding. All of a sudden Tony next to him, looking up at Steve with a spark in his eyes Steve’s missed for the longest time. He’s saying something, but it’s lost to the beat of the music. Steve watches the shape of Tony’s mouth, feeling warm all over. He doesn’t remember why he was upset earlier.

Someone behind him stumbles, knocking into Steve. The mead must have done something to him, because he loses his balance. In a split second, Steve’s face is a hair’s breadth close to Tony, so close that he feels Tony’s exhale against his cheek.

Steve’s hands find Tony’s shoulders, and Tony’s still looking at him, eyes dark and unfathomable. It’s too much, far too much. Steve pushes at him, needing to get away from Tony, from this intoxicating, terrible pull between them. Steve moves away, his face turned to the side. Except Tony follows him, and then Steve’s mouth is pressed to Tony’s cheek for one brief moment.

He could have leaned in, could have nuzzled into the curve of Tony’s earlobe, could have turned his face into Tony’s for a proper kiss.

He could have, but he doesn’t.

Because it’s still a bad idea, and always will be.

Tony leaves the party early that night, and they never talk about what happened.

It’s a terrible idea. Horrible, no-good, absolutely idiotic—way past a bad idea at this point.

But when Steve sees the news alerts on his burner phone “Stark Industries shuts down rumors of engagement between CEO Pepper Potts and Tony Stark”, it doesn’t matter that going to see Tony while he’s a wanted fugitive on the run is objectively a very bad idea, a worthy follow-up to his last completely terrible idea of keeping the truth from Tony until it exploded in both their faces in a Siberian bunker. It doesn’t matter that Steve doesn’t even know what the hell he’s going to say to Tony when he sees him, or that Tony might not even be willing to hear him out, or that there’s a more than good chance that he’ll be found and arrested (being a wanted fugitive and all that).

He leaves in the middle of the night, with an apology and brief explanation for Sam and Natasha penned and stuck to the fridge of the safe house they’re currently staying in.

It’s not enough, but it’ll have to be. Steve suspects Natasha won’t be very surprised.

When he gets to New York, he tracks Tony down at his favorite coffee shop by the Compound. Steve can’t exactly walk up to him, so he grabs Tony and pulls him into the alleyway. He catches the coffee cup that Tony nearly drops in his surprise.

Tony’s breathing hard. He hasn’t recognized Steve yet, because part of the armor is forming on his back and chest, and he’s telling Steve in a low, almost wry tone that this is not a good idea, do you know who I am?

It almost makes Steve smile. This is definitely not a good idea.

But Tony’s not marrying Pepper, and this is the first time Steve’s seen him beyond scouring news sites and reports for a glimpse of Tony’s tired, exhausted face with a press-ready smile. He’s missed Tony so much, even though he knows he has no right to.

So Steve presses Tony to the wall and kisses him, because even though it’s a bad idea, there’s nothing else he wants to do more in that moment.

Tony stiffens under his touch and puts up his hands to resist, until his gaze falls on Steve’s face, lingering on his hair and his beard. Steve fights a blush, wondering what Tony must think of this new look.

When Tony pulls away, Steve lets him go with a tinge of regret, but he doesn’t move away.

Then Tony asks for his coffee back. It’s such a Tony thing to say that Steve almost laughs out loud. This urge lasts only for a moment, because in the next moment Tony’s crossing his arms on his chest and asking Steve why he’s here.

The million-dollar question.

“I don’t remember calling,” Tony says. He’s right, because he didn’t. That had hurt, even if Steve doesn’t deserve anything less.

Tony’s expression turns angry when Steve mentions the news about him and Pepper getting married. His frown sharpens even as Steve’s voice falters at the memory of hearing that news. The only thing that had kept him upright was Natasha’s steady voice and Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s none of your business,” Tony says, mouth down-turned, clearly unhappy. It’s convincing, but Steve knows it’s not true, and he’s not above doing some convincing of his own.

Because he stepped back from this so many times, telling himself it was a bad idea. And it still is, but ignoring this between them hadn’t stopped things from going to shit anyway, and Steve is sick of it.

He kisses Tony again, hard and firm. Tony pushes him back, but his hand is still on the back of Steve’s neck, keeping him in place.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tony says, looking at him, and Steve wonders if he’s remembering the very first Steve had said those words to him. How he wishes he hadn’t, even if it wouldn’t have changed the outcome.

“Yes,” Steve answers, because that’s undeniable under the circumstances. He’s past caring, though. “But sometimes you have to go with those.”

It’s a gamble, and one that Steve almost thinks he’s going to lose. Tony’s glaring at him, furious and beautiful and everything Steve’s ever wanted, and maybe all of this will end with Tony telling him to get out of his life and never come back. But Steve still has to try.

Tony’s staring at Steve’s beard now, touching the edge of the scruff tentatively with his fingers. Steve bites back a whimper at the feeling of Tony’s hands on his chin. 

“You seem to be having a lot of those, lately,” Tony says, and it’s true.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, even if it’s too late and too little. “I shouldn’t have…” He lets the words trail off, because there’s too many things he shouldn’t have done. Shouldn’t have lied, shouldn’t have pushed Tony away, shouldn’t have let him go in the first place.

Tony’s mouth flattens as he agrees, says this was a mistake, and Steve’s heart falls to his stomach. Then Tony’s telling him not to talk ever again, and he’s pushing off the wall, and oh, his mouth is on Steve’s, and he’s kissing back this time, hard and fierce and swallowing Steve’s quiet moan with his mouth.

He breaks off to tell Steve he’s an idiot, the words murmured into Steve’s beard. Steve nods frantically in reply because yes, yes he is an idiot and also he really wants them to get back to the kissing. Tony seems to agree. He informs Steve that there will be no talking, just kissing, then punctuates this statement with another kiss, longer this time, until Steve’s breath is hitching in his throat and Tony’s whole body is leaning into Steve’s.

It’s not that simple, of course. It’s not like he can take Tony out for coffee, or for lunch at the nearby Italian Deli and see where things lead. They don’t have that luxury right now. Steve also knows that there’s so much more to say between them, more apologies he needs to make, but when he’s kissing Tony, those obstacles don’t seem so hard to face.

Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

The first two nights after they go after Thanos but fail again, Steve doesn’t sleep. He wanders the halls of the Compound, feeling more like a ghost than an actual, breathing, living person. It makes him wonder if he was one of the many who were snapped away too, and this is nothing more than some strange delusion. He spends his time in the gym with the punching bags till his fingers bleed.

At least that’s some proof that he’s still here, for what little that’s worth.

On the third night, he finds Tony on the couch in the rec room during his wanderings. There’s a half-filled mug of coffee on the table in front of him, and he’s staring off into space. Steve stands in front of him, and it takes nearly a minute for Tony to register his presence.

Steve doesn’t ask Tony where he’s been. Instead, he sits down on the couch next to him, more than an arm’s length away. Tony’s still painfully thin from the days spent in space, but he looks better than he did when Carol first brought him home. Steve soaks in all the details in short, quick side-glances—the white scars on Tony’s chin, his dark pallor, the flecks of grey in his hair.

He doesn’t know if he would have made it this far if Tony hadn’t come back. Thank you, Steve wants to say out of the blue, nonsensically. Thank you for coming back, even if it wasn’t for me.

“Do you think we could have stopped it?” Tony’s tone is quiet, almost conversational. The tremor of his fingers on the handle of his mug quietly gives him away, but it’s a good effort.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, and it feels like that’s all he’s been saying since Tony had snarled the question at him in front of all the others, his face a mask of rage. 

You said together, so why the hell couldn’t we stop him? 

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

Steve opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out. There’s a sound next to him, something between a sob and a laugh. When Steve looks up, Tony’s hands are framing his face and he’s looming over Steve, almost on his lap.

“Please,” Tony says, a plea on his lips, written all across his body. Steve leans in and answers him, because he can’t refuse Tony anything right now, and he doesn’t want to.

Because even if this is a terrible idea and all he can do is help Tony forget for one short moment, at least that’s something.

Tony’s mouth is soft and yielding underneath his, and Steve kisses him, holding on to the too-sharp curve of Tony’s hip. 

They lose time to kissing, trading breaths between their mouths as Steve cradles Tony close.

They don’t say anything else for the rest of the night.

Steve gazes at Tony as he stands over the time machine controls, making yet another one of his “last checks”. Steve had been skeptical when Wong had brought up the idea of time travel a month after the Snap.

But Tony had surprised him once again, and now, weeks later, they’re getting ready for what Steve has heard Scott Lang refer to as a “time heist”.

Tony hates that name.

Tony’s still muttering under his breath when Steve comes up behind him, slipping one hand around Tony’s waist.

“It’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” he says, nosing at the back of Tony’s neck. Tony doesn’t call him out on the way his fingers are shaking, still holding on to Tony’s waist. Steve is grateful for that.

“Hmm,” is all that Tony gives him in reply, but Steve feels the way he relaxes a little at Steve’s touch. It warms him from the inside, even though he doesn’t know much longer he’ll get to have this.

He hadn’t expected anything from Tony after that first night together, but Tony had sought Steve out the night after, found him in the gym and wrapped his bleeding knuckles in bandages before bringing Steve to his bedroom.

Two months of holding each other at night, of Tony reaching out for Steve after a nightmare, of learning the sounds Tony makes in bed, and the way he looks at Steve when he wants to kiss him.

Two months, all the maybes and secret kisses from before, and Steve’s never once asked Tony what this is between them.

And now they’re hours away from performing the time heist. It will work, it has to work - but Steve wonders what this will mean for them when it does. He doesn’t know if all this has been a kind of convenient comfort for Tony, solace in a willing warm body, if they’ll go back to being what they used to be when they get everyone back.

Not that Steve knows what that is, either. Everything between him and Tony has always seemed to defy definition. And now he’s too afraid to ask. Because if Tony doesn’t want him, then that’s more heartbreak than Steve can bear at this point.

“We’ll be fine,” Steve repeats again, even though he’s not sure at all. But they might be, and that’s all the hope they have right now.

“Come to bed,” he says, pressing a kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “You need the rest.”

Tony looks tired but determined when he turns to face Steve. Steve kisses him properly, drawing a sigh from him. Kisses the questions and protests out of Tony’s mouth, carding his hand through Tony’s hair.

Maybe Steve should turn away instead, save himself just a little of the pain for when Tony lets him down gently later, when they’ve brought everyone back and are no longer in this in-between state that doesn’t need words. 

But he doesn’t. He’s gentle and tender with Tony because if this is their last night together, Steve will make the most of it.

He buries the words he wants to say to Tony in the curve of his neck with another kiss, and takes his hand to lead him to bed.

Two years later:

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here, right?” Tony’s voice is warm in the darkness of their bedroom. Steve turns towards the beacon of it with a soft sigh.

“What can I say, you know I was never one for following the rules,” Steve whispers, before bending down to kiss Tony. Tony meets him halfway, his arms finding their way around Steve’s neck. For all that they’ve been separated for less than a day, Steve’s missed him. 

He knows their friends mean well by insisting on the tradition, but Steve figures that if they made it here even with all the mistakes they had to work past and all the hurdles in their way, they already have more than enough luck to last a lifetime. 

“Can’t believe I’m shacking up with a troublemaker,” Tony says. Steve grins and teases the hint of laughter from his voice with a quick kiss to the edge of his mouth.

“Technically, you’ve been shacked up with one for two years,” Steve points out, shifting to kneel in front of Tony. “Seems a little too late to be figuring it out now.”

“Well yeah,” Tony bites at Steve’s lip in a retort, “but it’s going to be official tomorrow. With vows and flowers and everything.”

Steve huffs a laugh. He presses a kiss to the underside of Tony’s chin, and then pulls back, smiling at the way Tony immediately pouts at the loss of contact.

“Does that mean you’re taking it back, then? Leaving me devastated at the altar?” Before Steve even finishes his sentence, Tony’s in his arms again, kissing him breathless.

“Not on your life, Rogers. You’re stuck with me.” Tony tells him, tugging Steve forward by his shirt collar. “Now get over here and be quiet before Nat finds out you snuck in here and kicks your ass for breaking tradition.”

“Still one of my best ideas.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.”