there is no word or object enough to describe tony stark, steve thinks.
tony is the sun and the moon and the stars and the galaxy. he's planets and universes and blinding comets. he's the blue of the sky and the flaming red of fire, the brown of a bark and the jade green of summer leaves. he's warm hugs and soft smiles and knowing eyes. he's everything, to steve.
tony's disastrous too, in his own way, chaos and burning and cinders left behind, nightmares and anxiety and supernovas. he's unpredictable, a lifetime of surprises and familiarity, gentle and rough and beautiful and kind. he's a jumble of contradictory things that should never go together, yet fit into a perfect frame like jigsaw pieces. they fit because they're who tony is.
tony's home, steve thinks, knows; but even the word home isn't enough to describe tony stark. tony is human. he's generous and an asshole and has trust issues that make him hide. he has scars both on the outside and inside that makes him the strong, resilient man he is. he's just...perfect.
steve sighs and closes his eyes. tony is simply indescribable.
but he's mine, and I'm his.
and that, for all he's thought, is definitely enough.
