Archive of Our Own ^beta

Steve’s hands, they’re really nice. Firm, calloused. They mould to whatever they touch. Secure. Just, nice hands. Tony never noticed that before, not really. Steve would obviously have to have amazing precision and grip to throw his shield, but having the hands on him was a different story.

His arm, curled around his side so his right hand rests on his back. Warm. The other hand clasped in his own, held near their heads. They sway, and Tony follows along but his accuracy in dancing has more to do with his upbringing than his attention span. All he can really do is stare up into Steve’s eyes.

They’re filled with something. Tony’s notices the weariness of the weight of the world on Steve’s shoulders. An expression is on Steve’s face that makes Tony feel happy. But he thinks that if he looks hard enough he would be able to read his expression further. Alas, unable to place it, he can only see his own reflection. The heat from Steve rolls off in waves, pooling in Tony’s belly, face flushing hot. Steve pulls him closer, their stomach’s touch.

Steve shifts his feet, head leaning down low to press his forehead against Tony’s. He breathes, once, before, “How are you, Tony?”

Tony’s eyes flicker, aware once again. The song ends, abruptly, and changes to something with a little more speed and just the right amount of trumpet. There’s a whirlwind of motion around them, glasses clinking, people laughing, heels stepping, men leering over pretty girls in dresses that aren’t meant for the men to enjoy, “What, me? Fabulous.” He grabs Steve’s hands and shifts his body to his profile, “Want to swing, baby? I know you love to twirl me.” He puts his arm around Steve’s lower back, motioning him to do the same.

Steve pulls his hand from Tony’s own and it’s placed on his cheek. Boy, that was comforting. Tony let’s out a sigh, his mind a little hazy, “No, I mean, are you okay?” His hand slides down to his chest, just next to his shoulder. And yeah, that’s tender.

Really tender, as in, not an emotion. His skin pulls taught, and Tony bites the inside of his cheek.

“You feel warm. Maybe we should head back, make it an early night.” There’s concern in Steve’s eyes now, and Tony nearly breaks at the sight of it. He takes a step away from Steve.

“Let’s just sit. You find us a seat, I’ll grab us some drinks from the bar. Water, pinky swear.” Defensive, he tries his best to ignore Steve’s look.

The bar is expansive, it sits directly across from the stage where the band plays and is jam packed with people. FYI, charity functions are filled with alcoholics, which is the perfect area for Tony to blend in. Tony makes his way to it and slides into a somehow empty stool, flagging down the bartender. Hello, Tony Stark, nobody waits to serve him.

What comes back is water, held delicately in a martini glass. He looks at the bartender, raising a brow, “Running low on glasses?”

The bartender looks over towards one of the tables, where patrons have set up a pyramid of fifty or so glass cups (mind you filled with liquor) like an obscene version of Kings Cup.

“Yeah, we’re a little low.”

Tony sighs and takes a sip, “Can you get a small tray of these brought over to my table?” At the nod, Tony slides him a tip and goes back to find Steve. After making his way through the center, he tries near the side booths. He stands on a chair and looks around for the familiar blonde mop of hair and bulging muscles. Unsuccessful, he hops down and wanders up to the balcony. In a concert hall as large as this, Tony is about four-seconds away from grabbing the mic and embarrassing Steve just to prove a point. But that would mean he would have to make his presence known even more than it is. He’ll stay in the crowd, thank you.

He opens the corded drapes to the balcony seats and wanders up, surprised to find it empty. Usually this area would be packed, it’s one of the better areas to hang out in. Feeling anxious from all the noise, Tony wanders over to the railing of the balcony, and sets his martini glass down. He folds his arms over and scans the crowd, absentmindedly wondering if Steve left to get some fresh air. Somewhere in his belly, he is nervous, mind racing.

A hand slides around his middle, but he knows those hands. It gently pulls him towards a broad chest from behind, “There you are.” A voice (Steve’s) says, amused, and presses a kiss to the back of his head.

“There I am? You’re the one who disappeared.” He starts to turn towards Steve, who moves to lean against the railing and laughs.

“I went to the bathroom.”

“You abandoned your post for Tony-duty.” He teases, the anxiousness ebbing away, “I was worried something had-“ He pauses, unsure of what to say and how to say it.

“I know.” He places a hand on Tony’s cheek again, “This area is closed off, you know,”  Steve’s hand feels cooler than before, “Your fever’s increasing. We should go home.”

Home. It’s hard to go “home” when home is staring at him in the face, “This is the perfect place to come and dance. Can we sit and watch?” He pulls up a chair from the table nearby and sits, looking down at the people swing dancing below. He smiles, the orange glow from the candle softening his features, but exposing sweat on his brow. Steve kneels between Tony’s legs and takes a napkin from the table, dipping it in the martini glass. He dabs it against Tony’s forehead, frown increasing.

“Please take it easy. I need to check your scar tonight.” He wipes the moistness away with the dry side of the napkin, “You can barely stand.”

“I wanted to go out.”

“I know, Tony.”

“You look so handsome in that suit, Cap. Captain Rogers.” Tony fiddles with the lapels of Steve’s coat. Steve grabs the glass and puts it to Tony’s lips. Tony grabs the glass himself and downs it all in one go.

He makes a show of putting the glass back down and grabs Steve by the lapels again, pulling him inward to place a kiss on his lips.

Steve balances himself on one knee, his hands going to the sides of Tony’s chair to add further support. Tony knows his lips must be wet and cold, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. So Tony wraps his hands around Steve’s neck and up into his hair, to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He breaks away briefly, breath hot on Steve’s lips, before gazing back up into his eyes, “I’m okay, Steve. I just missed this. Going out with you.”

Steve’s eyes soften, and he places a very simple kiss on Tony’s lips, “You’re not invincible, Tony Stark.” He murmurs against his lips, “Iron Man you may be, but inside you’re just human.” He pauses, looking to see if Tony had any fight in his eyes. After all these years, there was nothing but confidence in each other, “I trust you know your limitations.” He adds quickly, “I just worry.”

Tony grabs Steve’s hand and leads it towards his shoulder, “In a month, I’ll be good as new. You’ll see. A little bullet has nothing on me.” But Steve’s eyes seem lost, targeted on his shoulder. Fixed.

—

Red oozes through white fabric, a hole the size of his thumb, and Tony- Tony can see the blood-flaked pale face of Steve as he hovers over him. Hands pressing tight, shaking. Coat rumpled, stained, hiked over his shoulder. Steve, in uniform, blue eyes wild, frenzied. Mouth running a mile a minute, unsure of what he is saying. Tony is pale, his eyes droop and his hands clutch at Steve’s shirt, his grip like iron. Tony convulses, in shock. Steve shields him, bullets spraying from every which way, praying the next breath won’t be Tony’s last.

—

He waves a hand in front of Steve’s face, his smile gentle and understanding, “Hey. Steve. I’m still here.”

When his gaze snaps back to Tony, he finds it a relief. Looking into the deep brown pools, he finds comfort with the fact that they are so lively. Fixed on him, not looking around wildly. Not terrified. Not dying. Filled to the brim, bursting with life.

“I love you.” Steve whispers, reaching again to dab the sweat off of his brow.

“Even when I smell this bad?” Tony lifts his arms looking down to see the beginnings of sweat showing through his coat.

“Even when you smell this bad.”

They lean in to kiss again, Tony placing his elbow on the railing for support. He feels something tap against it, and the martini glass goes tumbling over the edge. Tony reaches to catch it, but there’s a shocked gasp and a clatter from below.

Tony looks at Steve, his body suddenly rattling from laughter.

Steve grabs Tony’s arms and moves him until they’re hidden by the balcony edge. They’re laughing, giggling, increasing in volume as they laugh like children. Steve puts his hand over Tony’s mouth, ‘shush’ing him, but laughing all the while, “They’ll never know.”

The lines of Tony’s eyes are exaggerated with increasing mirth, and he grabs Steve’s hand away from his mouth, whispering, “Iron Man and Captain America, dumping water all over a poor patron, the headlines!”

Tony still sits, Steve’s hand in his own, while Steve kneels between his thighs. Steve moves his hands down to the meat of his thighs, nuzzling a kiss to Tony’s cheek, and their laughter renews again, “Shhhh, stop, Steve!” Tony chides, playfully. He leans up to look over the edge. He sees the dancers continuing their dance, a confused couple rubbing napkins over their wet dresses, and a waiter navigating through the crowd aimlessly with a full tray of water-filled martini glasses.

He looks away and rests the side of his head against the balcony, looking down at Steve. Steve stares at him as if the beauty of the world rests in his eyes. It makes his heart pound, and Tony grins, “They’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. Troublemaker.” He agrees, slipping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him closer. His lips hover over Tony’s, flirting with the almost-touch. The music from below slows, again, to another song. Sweet, soft cords, floating through the air and sliding over the walls. The song changes the mood of the room, the lights dim low, it’s quieter that before. Tony can hear his own heartbeat, Steve probably can too.

“Dance with me?” He says, voice a whisper, lips almost touching Steve’s.

Steve takes his lips with his own, their eyes fluttering shut. His hands come back around to hold Tony’s. Then, in a breathy promise against his lips, he vows, “Every day, for the rest of my life.”