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Strange fixes him up, and Tony gets why he didn’t tell him about what would happen in this one in 14 million universe because Tony doesn’t know if he would’ve done it, if he would’ve taken the stones, had he known the consequences. If he knew how fucking useless he’d feel while healing, if he knew how Steve would be right there with him every step of the way, if he knew how—.
If he knew how Steve’s hands on him would bring back all kinds of feelings he’d managed to convince himself he’d gotten over.
*
Before everything, before Siberia, before the snap, before marrying Pepper and having Morgan, it was almost simple.
It was Steve’s hands on him all the time, it was Tony coming to the compound to meet Steve after a mission and letting himself get lost in Steve’s mouth on his, in the heat of their bodies meeting, in the way Steve would hold him afterwards.
And Tony got over it. He did. He fucking tried.
Because, here’s the thing, he loves Pepper. He does. He’s not so much of an asshole that he’d marry her if he didn’t.
But Steve.
Steve is like gravity. Always has been.
Tony made peace a long time ago with the fact he booked himself a spot in hell. He didn’t think it would be for this.
*
“Why won’t you let me help you?” Steve asks, and Tony can’t answer. Just sits there, half slumped against the bathroom wall, watching as Steve stands with his hands on his hips, jeans clinging to his legs and Tony—he shouldn’t be looking.
“Don’t need the help,” he manages to breathe out after a moment. “I’m fine, Steve.”
“Yeah,” Steve says. “You look it. Come on, just—”
And then Steve’s there, his arm curling around Tony’s waist and, fuck, it would be so easy to turn his head and let his mouth press against whatever bit of Steve’s skin he manages to find.
“Tony?”
“What?” Tony asks as Steve puts him on the bed.
“Clothes.”
And, yeah, considering Steve found him on the floor after Tony exhausted himself showering, Tony should probably find some kind of clothes to put on. Instead he raises an eyebrow and meets Steve’s gaze. “Nothing you haven’t seen,” he says. “Or are we pretending that didn’t happen?”
“We’re not,” Steve says, and Tony notices the flush over his cheeks, the way his eyes keep flickering down before he catches himself. “But you—you’re—”
“Married,” Tony says flatly. “Yeah.”
Steve nods, turns away and opens the top drawer, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. “Can you—do I need to—”
“You know I can’t,” Tony says, eyes fixed on the way Steve squares his shoulders before turning around, and then—.
Steve’s hard.
A better man wouldn’t stare quite as openly as Tony’s doing, but it’s—.
Fucking gravity.
Tony’s still weak from using the stones, Strange fixed him up as best he could, but the only thing to fix the physical energy depletion is rest. Luckily, after they saved the world again, the person Tony sold the tower to was only too happy to loan a bunch of floors out to the team. Anyone could be here helping him, but Steve volunteered and Tony wasn’t strong enough to turn him down.
So now he’s got Steve’s hands running up his legs as he gets Tony into the sweatpants; he’s got Steve easily lifting him off the bed to pull them up over his ass, and he’s got the look on Steve’s face when Steve places him back down on the bed softly. Steve’s face is so fucking close Tony can see the crows feet he’s starting to get, lines that weren’t there the last time Steve was this close to him, and Tony involuntarily licks his lips, watching as Steve’s eyes dart down at the movement.
Steve’s about to get up and Tony knows what follows, knows that Steve leaves, knows that Steve probably goes and jerks off, and—.
Later, he’ll blame the exhaustion, he’ll blame how much he hates sleeping alone now, he’ll blame any number of things, but what it comes down to is that he misses Steve. So Tony grabs his wrist with the last bit of energy he has. “Stay,” he says.
“Tony—”
“Please.”
And Tony thinks it says a lot about how weak both of them are that that’s all it takes for Steve to agree. For Steve to strip his jeans off and get in the bed with Tony. For Steve to reach an arm out, resting his palm on Tony’s chest.
“Missed you,” Steve mumbles under his breath, and Tony’s almost sure he’s not meant to hear that, but then—. “I don’t know how to stay away from you.”
And Tony knows he’s not meant to hear that. He’s not meant to curl a hand over Steve’s hand and hold on.
He’s not.
But he does.
*
When Tony wakes up, Steve’s gone, and it takes Tony a moment before he remembers that Pepper and Morgan are coming by today. Pushing himself up into a seated position, he yawns. “Friday?”
“Yes, boss?”
“Are Pep and Morgan here?”
“In the kitchen with Captain Rogers,” comes the reply and, fuck, if that doesn’t make Tony want to curl up under the blankets and go to sleep.
Instead, he finds the energy to get up and make it to the en suite, splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth. Tugging a hoodie on, he grabs his walking stick and heads out to the kitchen, a smile on his face when he hears Morgan squealing about blueberries.
She’s climbing on Steve’s shoulders, trying to grab at the fruit, and Tony’s hit by a jolt that stops him dead in his tracks.
“Tony,” comes Pepper’s voice, stirring him from his thoughts, and he turns to her, hating how beautiful she looks. She kisses his cheek, and threads her arm through his, leading him to a chair at the table.
“Coffee?” he asks, smiling gratefully when she pushes a mug towards him. “Thanks.”
“Steve made it,” she says. “Before Morgan decided to use him as a climbing frame.”
“What else are super soldiers here for?” Steve says easily, holding Morgan under one arm before gently handing her to Tony. “I think this belongs to you.”
Tony holds her close, kissing the top of her head. “Yeah,” he says, voice coming out hoarse. “I think this is mine.”
Steve’s hand trails over Morgan’s hair, his fingers accidentally brushing against Tony’s mouth, and he jerks away like he’s been burnt. There’s a heavy silence in the room, only broken by Morgan humming the Paw Patrol theme, and Tony avoids looking at both Pepper and Steve.
“Okay,” Pepper says, eventually. “I’m going to make pancakes. Steve, are you staying for breakfast?”
“No,” Steve says quickly. Too quickly, probably. “I’m going to the gym. Sam’s meeting me there.”
Tony doesn’t look up as Steve leaves, just concentrates on Morgan in his arms, watching her hands pat against the table, fingers reaching out for the sugar bowl. Pepper squeezes his shoulder as she walks towards the fridge and Tony hates himself for wishing it were Steve with him instead.
*
Later, when Morgan’s crashed out the floor and watching Aladdin, Tony looks at Pepper and sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead.
“Stop that,” Pepper says, not looking up from her StarkPad. “Tony, I’m not stupid.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
At that, Pepper does look up, meeting Tony’s eyes and pressing her lips together. “I don’t know what to say to that,” she says. “I know you and he have always—”
“I’m with you,” he says. “I’m married to you. That means something.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Tony.”
“You could stay here,” he says, trying to find a way through this. “You and Morgan both, you could—”
“No,” Pepper says firmly, reaching over and resting her hand on his knee. “This isn’t a home. We have a home. You need to recover and that’s—you made the choice for that to be here.”
“It’s already accessible for what I—”
“I know all the reasons you told yourself.”
“Pepper.”
“Please stop.”
Tony forces himself to his feet, wanting to fix this, but he stumbles and he can’t keep himself upright—.
“Tony!” Pepper’s kneeling on the floor next to him, her hands on his face. “Tony, let me—”
“No,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry Pep, but you can’t, I need—”
“Steve,” she says quietly, and Tony doesn’t look at her, can’t look at her. “No,” she says. “I get it. It’s okay, Tony, just—”
“Daddy you’re on the floor,” comes Morgan’s voice, her fingers touching his head.
“Hey Morguna,” Tony says, opening his eyes to see her little face in front of his. “Daddy had an accident, remember? And he’s trying to get better but it’s taking some time. Don’t be scared, you’re not scared, right?”
Morgan shakes her head, fingers running down Tony’s nose, brushing over his beard. “Scratchy.”
“Thanks, kiddo,” Tony says with a smile. “You always give me the best reviews.”
“Tony, FRIDAY said—oh shit,” Steve blurts out.
“Shit!” Morgan repeats with glee and Tony rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t teach her that,” he says to Steve. “Can you just—”
“On the couch or to your room?” Steve asks, already lifting Tony up in a bridal carry, and Tony breathes out heavily, trying not to lean against Steve’s chest, but—failing. Failing a lot.
“My room, hey Morgan, want to watch the rest of the movie with me in bed?” Tony asks, waiting for an affirmative nod from her. “You heard the lady. Pep, you coming?”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she says quietly, and when Tony looks at her, he can tell she’s almost on the verge of tears and it’s like a goddamn knife to the heart knowing he’s the one that’s done that to her.
“Pep, please—”
“Go, Tony. Just—”
So they do. Steve’s jaw is clenched tight as he carries Tony to his bedroom, and Tony tries to ignore it, keeping up an idle stream of chatter with Morgan and before he knows it, they’re in his room, Morgan clambering on the bed and asking FRIDAY to switch Aladdin back on.
Steve crouches down, lowering Tony to the bed, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Tony’s head in a far too familiar touch. “Steve,” Tony whispers, fingers automatically tangling with Steve’s where they’ve been resting against his knee. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” Steve says, nose brushing against Tony’s cheek as he straightens up, gently detangling his fingers from Tony’s grip. “Do you—are you comfortable?”
“Yeah,” Tony says, pushing himself up so he’s resting against the headboard. “Morgan, honey, can you get that pillow and give it to Steve?”
Morgan does so, and Steve moves Tony forward, putting the pillow against Tony’s lower back. “Better?” he asks, fingers running up and down Tony’s arm until he realises what he’s doing and snatches his hand away. He ends up standing at parade rest and Tony would laugh if the situation weren’t entirely unfunny.
Then.
Pepper comes in the room and any mild amusement is lost when Tony sees her. He opens his mouth without knowing what to say, but—.
“No,” she says, holding a hand up as she gets on the bed when Morgan gestures to her. “Tony, no.”
Steve exchanges a look with Tony and he nods. “I’m going to get back to Sam,” he says. “Pepper, I—” he stops and sighs. “Let Friday know if you need me.”
*
Tony falls asleep after Morgan gives him a kiss goodbye, and he gets woken up by Steve shaking him gently. “Wha—?”
“Your meds,” Steve says. “Sorry, I would’ve let you sleep but—”
“No,” Tony says, sitting up. “No, I can’t skip them. Thanks.” Taking them from Steve, he swallows them dry before Steve hands him a glass of water. Draining it, he falls back against the pillows and sighs. “I hate this.”
“Tony—”
“Not—I don’t like feeling so useless. I haven’t stepped in the workshop since—”
“You saved the world,” Steve interrupts. “Tony you need to rest, please, just. Heal.”
“I don’t even know why you’re here.”
Steve sits back on his heels, pressing his hands against his thighs. “You know why.”
“Yeah,” Tony says, letting out a small laugh. “And that’s working out fucking brilliantly.”
“I’m not going to apologise for my feelings,” Steve says quietly but firmly. “If you don’t want me to be here for you then I can get Sam, or someone else, but—”
“I don’t want you to apologise,” Tony says. “I want—fuck. I want you. Every goddamn day that you’re here I realise how much I want you and I—”
And then that’s it.
Steve’s mouth is on his and Tony knows, deep down inside, that he’s never going to be able to give this up. That now he’s got this again, now he’s got Steve kissing him so carefully, hand cupping his face, fingers pressing against his cheek, he can’t lose it.
Not again.
“Shit,” Steve says, breaking the kiss and getting to his feet. “Shit, Tony, I—”
He walks to the door and Tony watches him, fingers ghosting over his mouth before his brain catches up to what Steve’s doing. “Wait,” he calls. “Steve, don’t—”
“Tony, no, I need to—”
“Please don’t.”
And Tony will never know what it is that stops Steve in his tracks, but he does, his shoulders slumping as he turns around. “Tony—if I stay here tonight then—”
“I know,” Tony says, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he fiddles with the blankets. “But I don’t want you to go.”
Steve stares straight at Tony, his face a picture perfect expression of longing and guilt, mouth parted, and the want that floods Tony’s body is like a lightning bolt to his system. Before he can regret it, Tony unzips the hoodie he fell asleep in and wriggles out of it, dropping it on the floor.
“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, his hands in fists by his side like that’s all that’s stopping him from touching Tony. “If I—”
“I want you to.”
Steve’s eyes flutter shut and Tony watches the rise and fall of his chest, how his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks in the dimly lit room, and then—.
Then Steve’s face takes on a determined look and he’s stalking towards the bed, climbing up on to it and catching Tony’s mouth in a deep kiss; Tony groans into it, his hands instantly slipping under Steve’s t-shirt, fingers digging into the firm muscle that he hasn’t felt in too goddamn long. The kiss is frantic, both of them pouring everything they’ve missed over the last almost decade into it, and Tony’s heart is aching with the sheer amount of feelings he’s being overwhelmed by.
Steve’s hands run down Tony’s chest before he grips Tony’s hips and rolls onto his back, bringing Tony with him, the blankets tangled between them. Tony goes with it, and when they break the kiss, he can’t stop the small smile he gives Steve, blinking back tears when Steve returns it easily. Steve’s fingers are resting against the small of his back, and Tony can feel Steve’s cock hard against his hip, but Steve’s not making a move to do anything about it, instead pressing almost revenant kisses against Tony’s face.
“I thought you were gone,” Steve says, running his hands up and down Tony’s back. “When you—I thought that was it, you were gone and I never got the chance to tell you that—and it was my own fault, because I let you go and you—”
“All this time?” Tony asks, looking down at Steve before he gets too tired to hold himself up and drops his head down, curling underneath Steve’s chin. “Really?”
“You were it for me, Tony,” Steve says quietly. “But I knew I—after everything, you deserved to be happy.”
Tony presses his face against Steve’s neck, trying to stop tears from falling, judging by the way Steve’s grip on him tightens, he fails, and that’s—. “I can’t regret what I have,” he says against Steve’s skin. “I have a kid, Steve. And Pep, I—this is the worst thing I’ve ever done to her.”
“So,” Steve swallows, hand cupping the back of Tony’s neck. “What do we do now?”
Tony doesn’t have an answer for him.
*
The next day, Steve’s there all the time. They watch a movie and Steve holds his hand, refusing to be embarrassed when Tony calls him out on it. He makes them dinner, following Tony’s instructions because the last time Steve tried to make spaghetti, he somehow burnt the pot out.
They don’t kiss again.
Tony has no fucking idea what he’s doing.
Pepper doesn’t call.
Tony doesn’t call her.
*
Strange comes over to check on him and tells him he’s doing well, that he’s healing at the expected rate, and Tony wonders if there’s some kind of space elixir he can get Carol or the Guardians to bring him to speed the process up.
Steve hovers, but when Morgan video calls Tony, he leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the call is over.
“Are you trying to pretend I don’t have a wife and kid?” Tony asks when Steve reappears.
“No,” Steve says, handing him his meds. “I just—I don’t want to confuse her.”
“My kid is smart as hell, Steve, she doesn’t get confused.”
“Tony—”
Holding a hand up while he swallows the pills, Tony dutifully drinks the glass of water before putting it on the coffee table. “I hope you don’t expect me to have all the answers here.”
“I don’t.”
“Because I have no idea what I’m doing.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted that,” Steve says with a smile, sitting down next to Tony, pulling him into his lap. “Tony, if you want to stop this, then—”
“I didn’t say that,” Tony says, straddling him, arms instinctively wrapping around Steve’s neck. “You—if you knew how much I’ve thought about you since we stopped—back then—you’d be terrified. Shit, I’m terrified.”
“By me?”
“By what I feel for you. By how I am with you. Steve—” Tony cuts himself off, and looks at Steve, contemplating if he wants to admit this, but. He can’t not. Not if they’re really going to do this. “Morgan’s the only person in the world that comes above you.”
Steve’s quiet, his brow furrowed as he looks at Tony, his face saying that he doesn’t quite believe what Tony is saying, and fuck, Tony wishes he could erase that look with some words, but it’s not going to happen. After so many years of hurt, doubt, and separation, Tony can’t fix this.
Add it to the list.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” Steve eventually says, kissing Tony softly. “But if that’s how you feel, then you need to talk to Pepper, because this is going to kill you if you don’t.”
Tony fucking hates it when Steve’s right.
*
It’s horrible.
Pepper cries. He cries.
She doesn’t get angry, even though Tony tells her she should. She just looks resigned, like she was waiting for this, and Tony feels like the worst kind of person because she deserves so much better than this. Better than him.
He loves her, he does. He tells her that, over and over, and then—.
Pepper tells him she knows. But that it’s not enough.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says. “I never wanted to do this to you.”
“You know,” she says, holding his hand and looking out into the distance. “I knew that having the team would change you, would change us, but I always hoped that we’d be strong enough to—but I guess this is the other failure of my life.”
“Pep, no, I—”
“I couldn’t get you to stop, and I can’t get you to stay away from them. From him.”
“It’s not his fault,” Tony says before he winces. “I mean. He left it alone. Left me alone. He wanted me to find happiness.”
“And did you?”
“You and Morgan gave me more happiness than I knew what to do with,” Tony says. “That’s never been in question. But I—” he breaks off and shrugs helplessly. “It’s Steve. I don’t know how to not love him.”
“God, Tony,” she says, dropping his hand. “I could’ve lived without hearing that.”
“Trying the whole honesty thing.”
“That’s a terrifying prospect.”
“I really wish you’d hate me.”
Pepper chokes out a laugh and wipes her eyes. “Oh, my life would be so much easier if I did.”
“But you don’t?”
“Tony, you changed my life. You made me a mother. I’m—” she takes a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
“But not yet.”
“No, Tony. Not for a long while.”
He guesses that’s the least he deserves.
*
Breaking up with Pepper doesn’t magically make everything okay. The day Tony takes his wedding ring off, he stares at the pale strip of skin for too long while Steve stares at him, and it’s—.
It’s terrifying.
Tony feels like he’s jumped off a cliff without a parachute and the only person there to catch him is Steve.
Happy brings Morgan over, and Tony curls up on the couch with her, tries to explain that he and mommy won’t be living together anymore, but, even as smart as she is, he doesn’t know if she understands. Especially since he’s been living at the tower since the battle, so this is already a new normal for her.
She giggles a lot when Steve spends time with them. Tony thinks that’s a good sign, but he really has no fucking clue.
*
Slowly, Tony starts spending more time awake than asleep, and he manages to make it for dinner with the team.
They’ve been giving him space to heal, and he didn’t realise how much he missed them until he’s in the kitchen with them all, Steve by his side, Rhodey on his other side, while Sam and Wanda cook for everyone.
Steve’s got his arm flung behind Tony, resting on the back of the chair, and Tony’s leaning into the warmth of Steve’s body. He doesn’t know what the rest of the team knows about the disaster that is his personal life, but Rhodey knows, is watching them with a wary eye and Tony can’t blame him.
Rhodey’s been there for all of Tony’s romantic disasters, he knows the signs.
“So,” Sam says, looking across the table. “You feeling better after the whole self sacrificing saving the world thing?”
“Technically I didn’t sacrifice myself, I’m still here.”
“We noticed,” Sam says, looking between Tony and Steve. “But that’s a whole other thing, and my momma always told me not to pry at the dinner table.”
“Did you listen to her?” Bucky asks. “Because I don’t think you did.”
“You’ve met my momma, do you think I don’t listen to her?”
“Wait,” Steve interrupts. “When did Bucky meet your ma?”
“Last week,” Sam and Bucky say together.
Tony pauses with a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth. “That was creepy,” he says before stuffing the food in his mouth.
“He’s getting better,” Steve says, fingers pressing against the base of Tony’s neck. “Funnily enough, rest works.”
“Uh huh,” Rhodey says. “And all that extra stress, how was that helping?”
“No,” Tony says, pointing his fork at Rhodey. “Honeybear, no. We’re not doing this. Not today.”
“Tony—”
“I said no,” Tony interrupts, turning to look at Rhodey. “I get what you’re trying to say,” he continues in a low tone. “And I know why, but. No. Please.”
“Okay,” Rhodey says, picking up his beer. “For now.”
Tony nods, before squeezing Steve’s knee. “So,” he says. “What have I been missing?”
“Looks like we’re the ones who have been missing—ouch, okay,” Sam yelps, rubbing his leg. “I didn’t need to be kicked.”
Steve shrugs. “I was moving my legs.”
“Sure you were.”
Tony rolls his eyes and stands up, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Fine,” he says. “You all want to know what’s going on? It’s that important?”
“Tony, don’t,” Sam says. “I’m—”
Holding up his left hand, the lack of his ring visible to the whole table, Tony waves it around before gripping Steve’s shoulder again. “There. It’s a fucking mess. But I made my choices. So did Steve. We’re adults. Leave it alone.” He presses his free hand against his forehead. “Steve, I—”
“I got you,” Steve says, getting up and looping his arm around Tony’s waist. “Lean on me.”
Tony closes his eyes, exhaustion quickly overtaking him, and lets Steve lead him back to bed. “I hate this,” he mumbles.
“I know you do, baby,” Steve says as he pushes the door open. “I know.”
“If I didn’t get so tired I’d’ve given you so many orgasms by now,” Tony says as Steve gets him on the bed.
“I can wait,” Steve says, kissing Tony on the forehead. “Stay here, I’m going to get my—”
There’s a knock at the door, and Rhodey comes in, balancing three plates on a tray that Tony has no idea where he found. “Hey,” he says. “Mind if I eat in here with you?”
“Sure,” Steve says easily, taking a step back, sticking his hands in his pockets. “If you want me to go—”
“Stay,” Rhodey says, eyeing him contemplatively. “If you care about him, then you should stay.”
Tony raises his eyebrows as Steve sits on his side of the bed, taking his plate from the tray, leaving Tony’s on there. “I love him,” Steve says. “More than anyone knows.”
And that’s the last thing Tony hears before he falls asleep.
*
“You said you love me,” Tony says a few days later, curled up in bed with Steve. “You—”
“I meant it,” Steve says. “You know I did.”
Tony’s quiet, Steve’s fingers tracing over the dip in Tony’s hip, occasionally pressing against the skin and—. “I don’t feel that tired,” Tony says softly. “You could go lower if you want.”
“I—”
“Only if you want.”
Instead of answering, Steve tugs Tony on top of him, kissing him softly as their cocks press together. “You sure?”
“Can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you afterwards, but yeah. Yes.”
The smile Steve gives him is fucking heartbreaking, and Tony can’t help but return it as Steve’s hands slide down to Tony’s ass; it’s a slow grind, not the desperation Tony thought it would be after so many years apart, but that doesn’t stop it being the best fucking feeling he’s had in a long time.
Steve’s whispering words under his breath, his head tilted back as Tony nips at his throat, a groan slipping out when Tony’s teeth graze over a particularly sensitive spot. It shouldn’t feel so good, but it does and Tony—he wants to keep himself in this moment forever; with Steve right there, meeting him with every kiss, every touch.
It’s gentle, almost too gentle, and Tony wishes he were healthy enough for Steve to roll him over and fuck him like he used to instead of this, but it works. Somehow, because it’s them, and they’ve fucking fought for this, it works.
Neither of them last long, and Steve’s gasping Tony’s name as he comes, Tony digging his fingers into the muscle of Steve’s shoulder when he follows soon after.
It’s messy and quick and not anything near perfect, but that’s par for the course for them, and Tony—.
He’ll take it.
He’ll take every single bit of them.
Because perfect has never given him what he needs.
*
There’s moments where Tony will wake up, expecting to be at the house, to have Pepper next to him, but—.
But then he sees Steve, sleeping peacefully, always with one hand reaching to touch Tony, and he doesn’t regret his choice.
Sometimes he wishes he did. That he could say this was a mistake and go back to living that life, that he could fix all the pain and heartbreak he’s caused, but he doesn’t.
He can’t.
Tony doesn’t look to the future as much as he used to, but now, when he does, he sees Steve.
He always sees Steve.