Archive of Our Own ^beta

This is not the way Tony expected this to go.

The wooden table breaks under the weight of their bodies when Steve shoves Tony against it, his arm pressing down on Tony's throat.

Tony called him here to talk. To give him an explanation about the Thor clone, maybe. To say he takes full responsibility for Bill's death. To beg Steve to join him, to register already so they can stop being enemies, so Tony won't have to arrest him.

But this is what they're doing now — Steve is on top of him, pinning him down against the broken table with his body, holding Tony's wrists down so Tony can't punch him again. Tony's gaze falls to the bruise he left on Steve's jaw. He's sure he has one to match, but the gold undersheath covers his jaw, hiding it from view. Steve was holding back when he punched Tony, anyway. They're both holding back. And they both heal so quickly that any bruises will have disappeared by the time they leave the mansion. Tony won't even be able to keep those, to remember that this was real.

Maybe if Steve keeps punching him. Maybe if Steve stops holding back.

But Steve's eyes are on his now, watching, maybe looking for something Tony doesn't know what might be. Steve is so close now, his mouth so within his reach Tony thinks that this time he might actually not be able to resist it. Tony's gaze falls to Steve's lips. Tony aches to kiss him, to taste his mouth, feel connected to him for just a moment.

Steve licks his lips. “Tony,” he says, his voice hoarse. It makes Tony shudder under him, makes Tony tilt his head up on instinct, trying to close the distance between their lips, something Tony had always wanted to do during their sparring sessions but never had the guts to actually do it, but now—

There's so little to lose now.

And maybe Steve feels the same way, because next thing Tony knows, Steve is kissing him.

It takes Tony's breath away and makes his eyes burn with tears at the same time. Steve's body presses down against his own, like Steve wants this as much as Tony does, like Steve wants him. He wraps a leg around Steve's waist, his mind spinning. Steve groans, breaking the kiss just to bite Tony's bottom lip and pant against his mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts, pushing his hips into Tony's, and Tony can feel Steve's growing erection even through Steve's pants and underwear and his own undersheath. Tony's rapidly getting there too, the undersheath adjusting itself to accommodate his hardening cock. And Steve must feel it too, because he moves again, sliding his own cock alongside Tony's and pinning him in place.

“Fuck, Steve. That's—” Tony moans. They shouldn't do this. Tony should stop this now before it's too late, before he knows what it's like to have Steve like this and lose it. He doesn't even ask about Sharon, doesn't want to hear the answer. All he knows is— “God, this is a bad idea.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” Steve lets go of Tony's wrists, but only to grab Tony's leg and pull it higher around his waist, grinding against him harder, and Tony couldn't stop this now, even if he truly wanted to.

He wraps his arms around Steve's neck and pulls him down for another kiss, and it's messier now with Steve moving against him, and all Tony can do is pant into his mouth as he meets the movements of Steve's hips. God, are they going to come, just like this? He wants more, he wants to take Steve's cock in his hand, in his mouth, wants Steve to touch him too, wants to take his time because once they're done here he doesn't know what's going to happen to them. And yet he can't stop, can't put space between them even to change positions, even to free Steve's cock from his pants and touch him like he wants to.

Apparently, Steve can't stop, either. He buries his face in Tony's neck, bites him through the undersheath, sucking on the same spot, making Tony gasp and arch his back against the uncomfortable surface of the broken table. Then Steve lifts his head, frowning at the undersheath like the gold offends him.

“I'm sorry,” Tony says. “I know you hate it. I can—”

“I don't care,” Steve says, his hips never stop moving, his movements only getting more frantic, more desperate. “It doesn't matter, just— fuck—”

He stops just enough to reach down with one hand and get his cock free, so fast Tony's hazy mind barely has time to register it before Steve is grinding against him again, his bare cock now sliding against the undersheath. Steve groans, panting against Tony's mouth, and Tony wraps a golden hand around him, stroking him fast and hard until Steve comes, white streaks of come painting the gold that covers Tony's stomach.

Steve doesn't give him any time to think — just kisses him again, slipping a hand between their bodies, this time to cup Tony's cock through the undersheath. But the gold retracts from Tony's groin, freeing his cock so Steve can wrap his gloved hand around it. Tony didn't even need to give it a command, it's like Extremis made the decision for him, like his body craves skin on skin contact with Steve. Steve must crave it too, because he quickly takes off his glove, warm hand wrapping around Tony's cock now, pulling his foreskin all the way up to cover the head before moving all the way down again, and it's—

Fuck, he won't last.

“Come with me,” Steve whispers against his mouth, breathing hard. “Join me, Tony, stay with me…”

Tony shakes his head, and it hurts him as much as he knows it hurts Steve, the unfairness of it all. It brings tears to his eyes, his nails grazing against the back of Steve's neck, hard enough to make Steve feel it through the cowl. “I can't. Fuck, Steve, I— I can't.”

Tears run down the sides of Tony's face, and Steve just kisses him again. Tony welcomes it, giving himself to it like this can fix everything between them, like they won't leave this place as enemies. Steve breaks the kiss, lips brushing against the same spot in Tony's jaw where he punched him earlier, his thumb rubbing against the wet head of Tony's cock, and Tony's so close now, so close— Steve's mouth finds Tony's neck again, mouthing at the undersheath, his fist tightening around his cock and Tony's coming, holding tight onto Steve's shoulders, onto the scale mail of his suit.

It's everything he's ever wanted and everything he can't have.

“I love you,” Tony says in a broken, wet whisper, and feels Steve's whole body tense on top of him. “I know. I know it doesn't matter now. I know it's too late.”

Steve lifts his head to look at him. His eyes are wet and it breaks Tony's heart to see him like this, to know that he's making Steve cry.

“I know you don't feel the same—” Tony starts.

“I—” Steve shakes his head. He moves away from Tony, tucks himself back into his pants, grabs his glove from the floor. Tony wants to reach for him, hold him, keep him close, but he doesn't dare.

He covers himself back with the undersheath, watching helplessly as Steve moves to where he left the shield and puts it on his back where it belongs.

But he can't let Steve leave like this. He stands up too, his voice trembling when he speaks. “Steve, wait.”

Fuck, he's just ruined everything. Whatever was left is just gone now.

Steve presses gloved fingers against his eyes to wipe his tears. Looks at Tony with red-rimmed eyes.

“It's fine,” Tony says, desperate. He can live with it, as long as Steve doesn't leave. As long as there's something that they can salvage here. “It doesn't matter. I—”

“I've been in love with you for years, Tony.”

Tony never thought that hearing these words from Steve's mouth could hurt so much. He hears in Steve's voice the same pain that he feels. He knows how much he's hurt Steve. How much they've hurt each other.

But there's a spark of hope in Steve's eyes for a second, and he moves closer to Tony again, taking Tony's golden hand in his gloved one. Tony likes the way they look together.

“If you join the Resistance—”

“Don't,” Tony says, and it kills him, it kills him every time. “Don't. It doesn't work that way, Steve, there's too much at stake. But you can work with me. We could—”

Steve lets go of Tony's hand, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes hard again. “I should go.”

Steve loves him. Steve is in love with him too. But it doesn't matter now. Steve is already turning away.

“Steve.”

“I don't know how we can come back from this, Tony,” Steve says, his voice tight.

Tony doesn't say anything else as he watches Steve leave. He lets Steve go because he knows Steve is right. Because he can't switch sides and Steve won't either. Steve won't change his mind. Steve won't even listen to him.

Tony calls the armor to himself. Welcomes the familiarity of it. The comfort it brings him.

No one will know about their encounter here. No one will know where Tony's been. No one will see the tears running down his face behind the faceplate.

The next time they meet, he and Steve will pretend this never happened.

Like they don't feel anything for each other. Like they're nothing but enemies in a war.

Tony was right. It's too late for them now.