“Rogers is back?” Tony looked up from the desk glancing down again as a second of true emotions glazed over his eyes before he allowed it to be sucked back in again. “Good for him. He’s done running, well, time didn’t stop for the rest of us just because Captain sprangles wasn’t here. Now I’m busy, bother me with actual news next time.” Tony dismissed his assistant, before turning in his chair with a heavy sigh.
//a while after civil war ?
The assistant looked awkwardly from her boss to the figure that emerged from the doorway.
"Um, I'm sorry Mr. Stark but..."
"It's okay," Steve said, announcing himself. "I let myself in. Not her fault." He added, giving the young woman an out as she excused herself quickly from the room, no doubt feeling the tension there.
Steve had realized that Tony would likely be unhappy to see him. He realized too that Tony might throw him out...or even through a punch at him. If he did...Steve would take it.
Rogers stepped more fully into the room. Gone was the clean-shaven All American Hero that Tony had once loved so well. His hair had grown out some, long wisps trailing at his neck and shorter strands dusting over his forehead. He'd grown a beard as well, and suddenly looked another ten years older, though still as handsome as ever.
But his eyes were dimmer now. Some of the light gone. The serum kept the man looking fit and healthy, as strong as always, but there was a shadow over that perfection now. A pall of weariness and disillusion.
Steve's eyes met Tony's drinking him in. He had gone dark while in Wakanda, and while living on the run with Sam. Meaning he hadn't seen Stark's face plastered across the media. He'd only seen newspaper clippings from time to time in his constant travels. Seeing the real thing again was something very different.
He was angry. And heartbroken. And full of remorse, as well as betrayal. They had hurt each other so much. Something they swore they would never do. Steve didn't think anything could hurt him worse than that day...
Somehow, this made all those hurts fresh. Winded him completely.
He wondered if from where Tony sat, he could see the pale scars on his cheek bone that had never healed right, despite the serum. They were thin and pearly and almost unnoticeable. Until you got close.
A reminder to him that Tony's marks surely hadn't healed as quickly.
He stepped forward until he was just a few feet from Tony, then stopped, taking a small, shaky breath. There was no haughtiness, no stoic soldier facade that so often showed in uniform. There was just Steve.
"Hello Tony."
