“I used to be in the Army,” Steve says, looking down at his hands. “I did two tours. Lead my own team. I raised up the ranks pretty fast, all things considered.”
He looks out the conference room window. “Everyone thought I was nuts when I said I wasn’t renewing my contract. That I was gonna head back into civilian life. The members of my team, or well the ones who quit when I did anyway, thought I was joking when I said I was gonna do a desk job.”
He smiles faintly before continuing, “My best friend, Bucky, came by the office once just a few weeks after Tony had started here. He took one look at him then back at me and said ‘oh’.”
Steve frowns, looking back to the camera. “Sorry, what was the question?”
He’s only brought out of his thoughts when the same boy speaks his name with hesitance, Tommy lifting his gaze to see Tubbo staring at him with the same concerned look he had moments before. He’s backed off from Tommy now, holding a bloodied rag in his hands. Tommy lifts a hand to his face, running his fingers over the newly cleaned wounds. They still sting beneath his touch, but they’ll heal, along with the bruising he can feel around his right eye.
“How… how do you feel?”
or, Tommy realizes how much his friend means to him
Apox wc: around 1k
Feel free to read it on ao3 here! Or under the cut for easier convenience!
Tender, pale fingers caress smooth skin, fingertips brushing over bruised skin causing Tommy to flinch. The contact on his skin is fleeting but painful nonetheless, his gaze moving up to meet one of saxe blue that stares back at him with nervous concern. A quiet ‘sorry’ escapes the boy in front of him as the same soft touch returns to Tommy’s face, his friend holds a small rag to his cheek as he dabs away drying blood.
His face stings under the touch of the damp rag, his eyes dropping to the cave floor below them. He can feel the others hands tremble as he continues to fix what damage that was done to Tommy just minutes before- rough hands thrown against his face by a man twice his height, twice his experience. A man with a mask of waxen bone, who fought countless battles before, who Tommy knows he never could have beaten. But he had done so anyway, out of anger, anger for the fellow injured boy that watched on with brimming tears.
“Tommy?”
He’s only brought out of his thoughts when the same boy speaks his name with hesitance, Tommy lifting his gaze to see Tubbo staring at him with the same concerned look he had moments before. He’s backed off from Tommy now, holding a bloodied rag in his hands. Tommy lifts a hand to his face, running his fingers over the newly cleaned wounds. They still sting beneath his touch, but they’ll heal, along with the bruising he can feel around his right eye.
“How… how do you feel?”
There’s a hopeful tone to Tubbo’s voice when he speaks again, and he tries to wear a small smile, ever the optimist. All Tommy can do for the moment is stare at him, his cerulean gaze likely portraying many unspoken emotions as he does. In truth, Tubbo doesn’t look any better off than Tommy feels, the others clothing in tatters and stained with his blood. His wounds have long been taken care of, Niki’s gentle touch helping in tend to the wounds Tubbo received at the hands of the blood thirsty anarchist.
Tommy’s hands form fists at his sides, the events of the festival playing clearly in his mind. He can almost feel Wilbur’s suffocating hold on him as he watches his friend get shot by someone he thought he could trust. His heart pounds fiercely in his chest and in one quick motion he stands, taking the few steps forwards until his arms wrap around the other male in front of him.
He can feel the other stiffen under his touch, but that only makes Tommy hug him tighter. He can both feel and hear Tubbo take in a shaky breath, his body trembling within Tommy’s hold as his own arms wrap around the small of Tommy’s waist. He can feel Tubbo bury his face in the crook of his neck, and after a few silent moments, can feel an ephemeral ghosting of tears wetting the side of his neck.
He’s unsure if it’s the haziness of his gaze or the pooling of tears in his own oceanic hues, but he grits his teeth nonetheless as the grey walls of the ravine grow into a hazy blur as he stares. The smallers form quakes in his hold, and Tommy is fueled with a deep rooting anger and deafening waves of sadness. He could have lost Tubbo today, gone in a boisterous showmanship of colorful fireworks. Many were injured today when Techno lost himself, and Tubbo was the first to greet death before he came crashing back down to the living.
“Wilbur told me you were gone,” Tommy starts in a hollow tone, voice wavering, “and I screamed. I watched it happen and I thought… I thought-”
He can’t finish his words, gritting his teeth as tears fall down his bruised cheeks, and he can feel Tubbo tighten his hold on Tommy as though one of them may disappear if they let go. Tommy shares the same sentiment, and he moves his gaze from the ravine walls and instead to the head of dirty blonde hair in the side of his vision.
“I don’t want to die.” Tubbo’s voice is but a fragment of what he used to be, tone timid and wavering just as much as his small body is. It breaks Tommy’s heart to witness and he stops himself from breaking into sobs in this very moment.
He sucks in a sharp inhale of breath, slowly disentangling himself from the other. But he keeps Tubbo close yet, hands resting on Tubbo’s shoulders now as he fixes his teary gaze on the others. Tubbo’s eyes are red, skin puffy, and face tinted red from the amount of crying he’s done since the festival. Tommy’s gaze wanders over Tubbo’s face, internally grimacing at each scar or burn he comes across on the others innocent expression.
He’s not going to let something like this happen again, especially not to Tubbo. He would lay his own life out for him before ever seeing Tubbo injured this badly again. He feels hollow as he replays the memory of their so called ‘savior’ raise such a dangerous weapon in the face of a terrified teen.
“I’m going to protect you, Tubbo, from everyone. They’ll have to kill me if they want to lay a finger on you.”
Tommy’s fingers clench ever so slightly on the others shoulders as he speaks. He speaks so freely, alone in this secluded part of the ravine, away from prying ears of those they know they can’t trust any longer.
“Screw this war,” he starts again, enrapturing Tubbo’s shocked gaze, “hell, screw my discs.” That earns a slight gasp from his friend, who knows well enough that the music discs in question are things that Tommy would fight tooth and nail for. “You’re the most important thing in my life, and I’m not letting anyone take you away from me. Not again.”
There it is, his true thoughts and emotions, a Tubbo is his best friend and he knows that he can’t function without him. If Tubbo were to die, Tommy doesn’t know what he would do other than throw himself at those who took him away from him. Tubbo is his lifeline, especially now that he’s the only real person he can trust any longer.
“Tommy-”
Tubbo’s voice wavers, and his face breaks into a stream of tears as he once again throws himself to Tommy, embrace tight and anchoring as uncontrollable sobbing comes from the smaller form.
Tommy will be damned if anyone tries to hurt him again.
45. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb. stevetony, 1.2k words, tony stark needs a hug (he gets it)
As co-leaders of the team, Steve and Tony always sit next to each other.
At team meetings, press briefings, galas to raise funding - hell, even during team movie nights, - Tony is always on his right.
And Steve likes to think that all that close proximity has made them both extremely attuned to each other, or - well, he knows it has on his part anyway.
He knows that whenever there’s leg room and probability of no one seeing it, Tony bounces his left leg whenever agitated, particularly when the press turns to a line of questioning he hadn’t anticipated.
He knows that Tony has a habit of biting his nails after a particularly bad night of restless sleep, the jagged edges of his nails looking so out of place against his otherwise impeccable appearance.
He knows the tell-tale signs of an oncoming panic attack whenever he hears the short but rapid pulls of breath as Tony tries to breathe.
He knows that Tony taps at his arc reactor surreptitiously whenever he needs reassurance or whenever someone likes to bring up SI’s past.
They don’t dare ask about anything related to Obadiah anymore though. Not whenever Steve is there anyway. Not after the last...incident.
So as they’re sitting here at what is a routine press briefing meant to discuss yesterday’s events and the growing nuisance that Doom seems to be proving, Steve doesn’t expect the question.
He doesn’t expect to find out through a reporter from Fox News that Tony used to date Victor Von Doom.
Neither does Tony, because his leg starts to bounce. You wouldn’t be able to tell though because his voice is as steady as ever when he answers, “I know I make an impression but Victor and I were never that serious. Plus, I believe his tastes run somewhere a little more blonde and invisible these days. Or well, brunet and elastic depending on who you ask.”
Some laughter rolls around the room at that but the reporter continues on, undeterred. “Maybe so, but the Avengers are the ones who always respond to him. Is this because you, Mr. Stark, are still harbouring feelings for a criminal?”
The room goes dead quiet awaiting Tony’s response, whose leg is bouncing alarmingly, but he doesn’t respond.
And that, — that moment of hesitation to refute it, causes the entire press floor to burst into noise; laughter replaced with questions and accusations being hurled in a cacophony of sound and flashes that makes Steve’s head hurt and Tony’s breath come in stutters.
“Alright, if the members of the press have nothing of value to ask, then I think we’re done here,” Steve says, voice cutting through the noise before pulling Tony up and out of his seat.
Tony’s palms are damp and once they’re off the platform and away from prying eyes, Steve sits Tony down and places those palms on his own chest, rubbing at his inner wrist with his thumb. “Count my heartbeat and breathe with it, Tony. Come on — breathe in, there you go, and breathe out. You’re doing great.”
Steve stays crouched in front of Tony’s chair until his breathing goes back to normal and his eyes don’t look so glassy, filled instead with resignation and despondence and Steve hates it but it’s still better than empty.
“We shouldn’t have just walked out,” Tony says eventually, voice still a little shaky. “That’ll just make it worse. They’re definitely going to run with the ‘Iron Man secretly still in love with Doom’ story now.
“Yes, but you’re not in love with Doom anymore, right?” Steve says, and he really didn’t mean for it to come out as a question but part of him just needs to hear Tony say it.
Tony sighs, pulling his hands away and Steve has to clench his own so he doesn’t do something stupid like snatch them back. “I was never in love with him. We barely even went out and I —,” he sighs, rubbing at his left temple — the sign of a migraine coming on.
“Come on,” Steve says, gently taking Tony’s hands in his again and pulling him out the side entrance where he knows Happy is idling with the car. “Let’s just get home, huh? The rest of them can find their own way back.”
There’s a slight quirk to Tony’s lip when he says, “Nat’s going to kill you if she has to ask SHIELD for a drop off. She’s still fuming at Fury over last time.”
“I can handle it,” Steve says, sliding into the backseat after him. “I’ll just tell her it was Sam that ruined her boots on that last mission.”
He doesn’t get Tony’s delighted warm laugh, the one that’s real and what Steve imagines sunshine would sound like, but he still manages to get a laugh and that’s the important part.
“Smart move,” he says, before going quiet, looking down at their entwined fingers long enough that Steve stops rubbing his thumb along the back of Tony’s hand.
He doesn't make any move to pull away though, so neither does Steve.
“Somedays I think I should have kept my identity to myself,” he says, after the silence stretches, still not meeting Steve’s eyes. “I never get to just be Iron Man. I don’t get to be a hero, I’m a debate.”
“I’m a danger, a weak link — and somehow I’m always the bad guy because yeah sure, Iron Man saves people from aliens and falling buildings but Tony Stark? No Tony Stark is untrustworthy and the wild card of the team — a liability. I should have just stuck to those cards,” he says all in a rush, and he’s blinking rapidly, staring up at Steve now with wide eyes like he can’t believe he’d just said any of it at all.
“That’s such bullshit, Tony,” Steve says vehemently. “Iron Man is fantastic, he’s brilliant but that brilliance is born from you. You were a prisoner stuck in a cave in the desert and you built that suit from scraps.”
“And you think that suit is what makes you a hero? No, Tony Stark has been a hero long before he was Iron Man,” Steve says, turning Tony’s head towards him so he can look into his eyes.
There are tears pooling in them and Steve cups Tony’s cheek to rub his thumb across the salt that spills there.
“Steve — you, that’s not, that's not fair. You can’t just say that,” Tony says, a little breathless as he stares at Steve.
“Why the hell not? It’s the truth,” and Steve hasn’t really finished that sentence before he has an armful of Tony Stark, face tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck.
“Thank you for being here,” Tony says, and Steve refuses to physically react to the feeling of Tony’s lips moving against his skin.
He rubs his hands along his back comfortingly and tells him, “Anytime, Tony,” as if he doesn’t mean forever.
36. Helping brush their hair after a shower. stevetony, 1k words, fluff, (for @onetwo3000 who requested this months ago, sorry it took so long)
“I swear to God, the next time a baddie does anything relating to the words Slime, Goo or Sludge, we just hand it over to the Fantastic Four and call it a night,” Clint says, slumped onto the marble counter.
“GET YOUR DIRTY FACE OFF MY THOUSAND DOLLAR KITCHEN ISLAND BARTON,” Tony shouts, stomping into the kitchen, looking relatively unscathed except for the streak of neon green something on his undersuit.
“YOU CAN’T MAKE ME, STARK,” Clint shouts right back, not moving from his slumped position.
“If the both of you don’t stop screaming, I’m going to throw you in a vat of this stuff,” Nat hisses at them, picking the substance from her hair.
“At least it isn’t corrosive,” Bruce says, coming up from the labs. The Hulk hadn’t been needed but Bruce looks exhausted, taking off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “All I can tell so far is that it causes momentary confusion to anyone it hits. Never longer than 5 minutes.”
“Yeah,” Steve grimaces, walking in with Bucky, slime all over their suits and in the plates of Bucky’s arm. “If I have to hear Buck ask me “Who the hell is Bucky?” one more time, I’m gonna break something.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if his nickname wasn’t the worst,” Tony chimes in, disdain written in the furrow of his brow as he looks at the state of the team. “My suit is beyond salvageable. There’s slime in every crevice of every plate.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re real torn up over having an excuse to hole up in your lab to finish off the Mark 56,” Bucky drawls, flicking at Tony’s head as he heads to the fridge.
“That’s neither here nor there, Tasty Freeze,” Tony huffs, crossing his arms.
“No engineer binging until after food and debrief,” Steve cuts in, left eyebrow arched which translates to, ‘I mean it, Tony.’
“Yes, but shower first,” Nat says, hopping off the stool and dragging a grumbling Clint with her, Bucky shuffling after them to head to his and Sam’s floor.
Tony watches them go, only walking closer to Steve after hearing the elevator doors close. “Hey,” he says, circling his arms around Steve’s neck.
Steve pecks him on the nose. “Hi, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, no memory loss for me. Only affects you if there’s skin to skin contact so I got lucky,” Tony sighs. “My suit, well, not so much.”
He runs a finger over Steve’s jaw, the bruise from earlier already healing over. “How are you feeling? It must have been tough for you — with Bucky.”
Steve’s jaw clenches but he turns his head to kiss at Tony’s fingertips. “I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about Buck. I’ll check up on him later.”
There’s more to it than that, Tony knows, but he also knows this is one of those things he can’t push Steve on, so he doesn’t.
Says, “Do you think we could get away with showering together or will that be pushing it?” instead of everything he does want to say.
Steve shoulders relax and there’s a small smile forming as he herds Tony into the elevator to get to his floor.
“You know, we're not exactly being subtle,” Steve says onto Tony’s lips, pulling him to the bathroom when the elevator opens. “It’s a wonder they haven’t caught us yet.”
“I’m almost positive Nat knows. Her questions were a little too pointed the other night,” Tony tells him, dropping his undersuit onto the floor before stepping into the shower, fiddling with the knobs until water rains down; warmth seeping into his skin and steaming up the room.
“I’ve always wondered what you two talked about on your super secret Tony & Nat nights.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Wanna bet on that?” Steve asks, backing Tony against the wall with a bruising grip on his hips and kissing him until they’re both panting and breathless.
“Steve,” Tony keens and his centre of gravity shifts, his legs instinctively wrapping around Steve’s waist and just about ceasing all brain function when he feels suction at his neck.
Then Steve bites down and he loses the plot entirely.
***
“You know, if the team didn’t know before, they definitely know now,” Steve says, pushing open Tony’s bedroom door.
Dinner and debrief had thankfully been short, the team just as eager as him to call it a day and crawl into bed; happy to deal with any minor problems tomorrow.
They’d all dispersed shortly after the last veggie dumplings were eaten — stolen, really— by Natasha.
And she only ever shares with Tony because she’s biased but Steve can’t really fault her for it.
Lord knows he’s worse.
“That’s because you couldn’t keep that goddamn smug grin off your face whenever I so much as shifted on my seat,” Tony replies, voice coming from his walk in closet.
Yeah, Steve knows he’s grinning right now, but really — who could blame him?
“I can feel you grinning right now Steve!”
"You can't prove it," he says from the edge of the bed and narrows his eyes at the mark on Tony’s neck, prominent against his skin as Tony walks towards him and wonders just how mad he would be if Steve gave him another on his shoulder where Steve’s shirt is slouching on his frame.
Tony points his hairbrush accusingly at him. “Hell no. I know that look in your eyes and I will actually melt your shield into a trash can lid if you give me another hickey. A hickey! What are we, 15 years old?”
Steve just pulls a grumbling Tony onto his lap. “Didn’t hear you complaining at the time.”
“Yeah well, I’m complaining now. Nat’s never gonna shut up about the turtleneck,” Tony huffs, raking his right hand through Steve's still damp hair. “We really should have been more thorough in the shower,” Tony sighs, plucking at a dried piece of slime from his hair.
“I don’t know, I felt like we were thorough earlier,” Steve smiles at him.
Tony glares at him, running his hairbrush through Steve’s hair. “I’m gonna go to the Bugle first thing in the morning and tell them you’re a menace to society, I swear it.”
“You’re more likely to blast your repulsor to Jamesons’ office window,” Steve tells him, closing his eyes and luxuriating the gentle strokes of Tony’s brush.
“You can’t prove anything, Rogers,” Tony says but Steve knows without looking that Tony’s smiling.
Steve can’t say he particularly enjoys these galas.
He doesn’t enjoy having to commiserate on the “good old days” with the aged men from the military in their attempt to bond with him simply to boast to other aged men that they are familiar with a war hero because vanity doesn’t age out.
He doesn’t enjoy the suit that feels like it’s physically and metaphorically choking him with the memories of having to gladhand with influential people from when he’d been touring as Captain America before the moniker had really meant anything.
He doesn’t enjoy the small fits-on-a-stick bites of food floating past him on trays, with a glass of something bubbly pressed into his hand that does nothing for him except make him more parched.
He doesn’t enjoy the crowd that forms around him, pushing their best assets at him in hopes of turning his eye as if he isn’t in a publicly loving and stable relationship with a man he adores.
He supposes out of everything, that is what he truly doesn’t enjoy.
He doesn’t appreciate how many people come up to Tony, saccharine - disingenuous - smiles on their lips, casual touches that always make Tony’s smile go tight around these people who are unfamiliar but who like to think that Tony is familiar to them, like he’s theirs -
Steve takes a swing of his drink, pretending not to notice the slight fissure in the stem of the glass as a server takes it away only to replace it by pushing another glass in his hand.
His eyes seek out Tony again, - an easy task, - Tony always shines brighter than any light in the room - the crowd around him drawn in like moths to a flame.
Tony is already looking at Steve though, giving him a small smile, - real and soft and Steve smiles right back, knowing that they’ll get to pick up greasy pizza from Sal’s on their way back to the tower, that when he kisses Tony he’ll taste the apple juice that Tony’s been drinking out of a champagne glass all night, that they’ll get back to the tower and peel each other out of their suits, the silk tie around his neck being used to bind for wholly other reasons, and there’s a promise in the uptick of Steve’s mouth now — that he’ll trace over wherever someone deemed to touch, the way he always does after nights like this.
Judging from the flush on Tony’s face and the way he goes back to listening without really listening to the conversation around him, Steve thinks his message has been received.
Yes, Steve rather thinks he’s going to enjoy himself later.
hello! hope it’s ok to request two prompts from the wordless ways to say i love you list 🥰🥰 nos. 36 and 39, stevetony please 💕💕 LOVE your works!!
39. Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favourite.
They’re the only ones in here.
Most of the patrons of the restaurant had dwindled out as the night wore on but Steve had called in a favour — well, Nat had called in the favour — but he’s also compensating the remaining staff for agreeing to stay on an extra half hour after closing time.
Tony is drinking the last dregs of wine in his glass so Steve gives the server a small nod. He watches her disappear through the door, swinging closed behind her but not before Steve sees all the staff huddling around the chef.
“Should we get the check?” Tony asks, setting down his glass. “We’re the last ones here and I can’t begin to imagine how much the servers must hate us right now.”
“Uh no, not yet,” Steve says, actively quelling the urge to twist the napkin in his hands. “Desserts on the way.”
Tony huffs, “Is this another one of your things about making sure I eat? Because I’ve been eating! Semi-regularly!”
“What do you mean semi-regularly?” He asks, eyes narrowing.
“Okay so I maybe missed a few meals while you were away,” Tony mumbles around his glass, “but it wasn’t like that time a month ago!”
“Tony, we’ve talked about the importance of having a functioning body. I’d like to keep y —” he trails off when he sees the server exit the kitchen, plate and Steve’s future in her hands and tries very hard not to give anything away on his face.
Bucky had laughed in his face when Steve had told him the plan because he said Steve wears all his emotions right between his eyebrows but he isn’t about to mess this up now.
Except the server arrives and places the plate right in front of Steve.
The ring is clearly visible where it’s sticking out of the tiramisu.
If the panic of the evening wasn’t evident on his face before, it definitely is now because Tony is staring at the ring, eyes wide and mouth slack.
The server had scurried back to the kitchen but Steve would bet his shield that the staff are listening by the door.
“Steve, is that what I think it is?” Tony asks him, eyes still on the ring.
Steve just turns the plate around so he can read the words ‘Will you marry me?’ written out in espresso powder dusting and slides down to one knee, finally saying the words he’s been rehearsing for a week.
“Getting to be with you the last 3 years has been some of the best years of my life, and I’m including all that time in the ‘20s,” Steve says, looking at Tony whose eyes are starting to mist. “You’re the most amazing, beautiful, brilliant person I know, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank the universe for making sure our paths intertwined. I don’t think I ever really believed in soulmates or in predestined fate because I think we make choices every single day to get to where we are, and I know that I wouldn’t do anything different, not even if I could go back, because all of it led me to you and you, — you are worth everything and there won’t be a day that goes by that I’ll let you forget it, if you’ll have me. So, Tony Stark, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”
Tony is full on crying now, tears tracking down into his beard and he practically falls out of his chair to crush his mouth to Steve’s, the word yes being pushed onto his lips.
They’re both smiling when they pull away, sitting back in their chairs.
“I’m still eating that tiramisu but you better wipe down that ring before putting it on my finger,” Tony tells him, and Steve dutifully wipes the ring down with the cloth the jeweller provided him with.
The servers bring out champagne, congratulating them on their engagement and Steve nearly chokes when he notices the ring sitting at the bottom of his glass.
13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.
“You need to turn it off or I’m going to go nuts,” Tony garbles from where he’s laying face down on the couch.
“I wanna hear what they have to say,” Steve says, watching the newscaster show a montage of the battle yesterday.
“I know you do,” Tony says, turning his head so Steve can hear him, “but I don’t think it’s healthy for you to-”
“Nat took a hard hit and you were almost critically injured yesterday, Tony. I need to know what I did wrong,” Steve says, leaning back and sinking into the couch cushions. “That cannot happen again.”
Tony turns on his back with a grunt, trying to hide the wince from the twinge in his side. “Yeah, I get it Steve, but no one could have predicted the building collapsing like that. Plus, Nat’s healing just fine and I’m barely even hurt!”
Steve gives him a frown at that and Tony huffs, “I said barely!”
“You used those exact words when you got impaled.”
“I stand by it,” Tony tells him, poking him in the thigh with his toe. “Steve, these things are going to happen on a battlefield. Come on, you know that soldier.”
Steve looks at him a moment longer before sighing, switching the channel to watch J Jonah Jameson yell at the camera about - well, everything.
“There, happy?”
“Ecstatic,” Tony replies drily, holding his hand out to Steve who takes it bemusedly, before pulling him down to his side so they’re both laying across the couch, legs tangled in a mess.
“Tony, -”
Tony shushes him, running his fingers through Steve’s hair - which in all honesty, he’s wanted to do for a while now - and tells him, “You’re like a weighted blanket and I need a nap.”
“I - uh, alright,” Steve says, melting into Tony’s touch and Tony - Tony starts hoping that maybe Steve has been wanting Tony to play with his hair almost as long as Tony has wanted the same.
**
Nat comes limping into the living room a few hours later and spots them both asleep on the couch, Tony’s hand in Steve’s hair and Steve’s hand on Tony’s well - best asset, so she does what anyone would do.
She snaps a picture of both of them and posts it to both Instagram and Twitter with the hashtag #SleepySuperhusbands.
It trends in under 5 minutes, becomes the fastest photo on Instagram to hit 2 million likes and is the only thing the news covers for a whole week.
Steve eventually silences all the questions they get bombarded with when out in public by just kissing Tony in full view of what seems to be every camera in existence.
They become the talk of every media outlet for an entire month after that.
Hi Nisha love, Stevetony for #40 (Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh) in the 50 wordless ways to say I love you prompt list if you're so inspired? <3
40. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh. 2.1K words, stevetony, fluff, tw: Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting
six
The first thought Steve ever has about Tony is, he looks sad.
He’s making his way into the school by himself, cause he’s grown now — his Ma’s car is still at the drop-off where he can see her still blowing kisses at him through the window, but who’s gonna know — when his eyes land on them.
There’s a man standing in front of a boy who looks smaller than Steve does, something he didn’t even know was possible — and the boy looks sad, shoulders hunched in and staring at the ground while the man seems to be scolding him, like his Ma does sometimes when he gets into a fight with the boys down the road.
But unlike Steve, the boy doesn’t stare back and let it be known that those boys had it coming for talking like that with his chest puffed up because he’s mad — and not at all because he’s pulling in big gulps of air.
Steve can’t see what the man’s face must be like since his back is to him but he imagines it must be angry and that just makes him angry cause the man seems like a big old bully and Steve hates bullies.
If the man wasn’t a grown up Steve might have just gone over there to tug the boy away and yell at the man about maybe picking on somebody his own size, but he promised his Ma he wouldn’t get into trouble — well, not on the first day at least.
So instead, he sticks his tongue out at the man, blowing a raspberry at him that he doesn’t hear.
But the boy does.
He looks, eyes darting up and around the man to stare at Steve who must have a silly look on his face because the boy looks a little shocked and his ears go red but there’s a smile, there and gone before he quickly looks back down at his feet.
Steve decides then and there that this boy is going to be his friend and he waits for him, the man leaving with a dismissive wave as he walks over to his very shiny car.
The boy watches him leave before making his way over to Steve, shoulders still hunched but not staring at the pavement anymore. “Hi. You - you didn’t have to wait for me.”
“Course I did,” Steve says with a shrug. “You and me are gonna be friends. I’m Steve Rogers,” he says, sticking his hand out for a shake.
The boy stares at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it with sweaty hands, “I’m Tony Stark and I - I really want to be your friend.”
“Well good, cause we’re going to be best friends,” Steve says confidently, dragging Tony through the front doors. “Come on, we can’t be late on our first day.”
[continue on AO3] or
***
twelve
“I’m just sayin’ that if you don’t come over for blueberry pie after Ma specifically baked it with you in mind, she’s gonna throw a fit,” Steve tells him, feet swinging under him because these benches were so high.
Not because he’s short.
It’s not.
Tony’s hands are fidgeting, his fingernails plucking at the skin of his nail beds and Steve doesn’t even think about it when he reaches over to pry them apart.
Tony just moves on to biting at the skin on his bottom lip. “Howard will be really mad if I miss dinner. He says the people coming over could really make or break the the company and he wants to make a good impression.”
His laugh is derisive when he tells Steve, “We have to be the picture perfect family complete with the great businessman but who’s also a loving father, the doting wife and mother with me staring as the golden son. What could possibly go wrong?”
Steve’s face must have morphed into the strange expression he does whenever Tony mentions anything about his home life because when he looks up from the plate of fries he’s not eating he gives a snort of laughter which only makes him embarrassed, covering his mouth like that would force it back in.
“Shut up, you didn’t hear that,” Tony says, cheeks going pink.
“Hear what?” Steve grins, swiping a handful of fries.
“Hey!”
“What? You’re gonna come over to eat my food so now I’m stealing yours,” Steve tells him. “Listen, you’re coming over today. Ma can be scary when she wants to be and not even your dad can stop her.”
Tony goes back to chewing on his lip.
“Hey, trust me,” Steve says, grabbing at Tony’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
Tony looks down at their hands before looking right at Steve. “Okay.”
It doesn’t occur to him until much, much later that he and Tony held hands all through lunch and neither one had said anything.
***
fourteen
They’re sitting in Math class — and why Tony is even in this class confuses Steve considering how smart he is — when he realises Tony isn’t paying attention to a single thing Mr.Vanko is saying.
He’s staring at his phone, hidden behind his open textbook and he’s taking a selfie that Steve is just going to assume he’s sending to Rhodes because —
Because the other option is assuming he’s gonna send it to Stone who is a senior and all around jerk and Steve kinda wants to bash his head in whenever he sees the douche hanging around Tony and — well, Tony seems to enjoy Stone’s attention but there’s something not right about that guy and Steve —
Steve is not biased. He isn’t.
He makes a face at the camera when Tony angles the phone again and Tony doesn’t even notice until he looks at the picture.
He stifles a laugh into his hand but Mr. Vanko’s hearing is scary good and he always seems to have it out for Tony anyway so he turns away from the chalkboard to glare at where Tony sits.
“Something funny, Mr. Stark?’
“No, no, just that you wrote out the equation wrong,” Tony says, shutting his book, his phone wedged between the pages.
“I doubt it,” Mr. Vanko sneers before looking at the board then scowling when he realises Tony is right.
Steve tries not to roll his eyes because of course Tony is right.
When he checks his messages later he sees that Tony had sent him the picture, with Tony front and centre but the perspective makes it look like Steve is popping right up from his head with a goofy look on his face.
He makes it his screensaver because really — who’s even going to know?
***
seventeen
Steve says the only reason Tony tries out for cheerleading is to be a rebel and to effectively drive Steve insane.
Tony tells him that he does it so he can stay in shape since now he has to keep with Steve’s insane growth spurth over the past year and so he can be flexible and Steve — well, Steve tries not to go completely red at the implication in Tony’s tone.
For all the years they’ve been friends, for all the dancing around they did about how they felt for each other — this, this is still new and real and Steve is completely terrified of messing this up.
Losing Tony - that’s not even something his brain can comprehend.
But when he shows up to practice, already making his way over to where the cheerleaders are to say hello and maybe steal a kiss, he thinks that Tony is trying to put him in an early grave because he’s standing there wearing the cheer uniform just —
The crop top and the skirt are fitted so well.
For some reason, Steve’s brain latches onto the fact that Tony’s belly button is out.
He’s an innie.
Steve must look an absolute fool right now because the cheerleaders burst into giggles around him, Tony included, who walks up to him and sweet jesus -
He shaved his legs and Steve thinks maybe there’s glittery body oil on them because there’s no way —
“Hi, handsome,” Tony smiles up at him. “You’ve got a real dumb look on your face so I’m assuming you like the uniform.”
Steve tries to say something back but his mouth just feels bone dry at the moment and he has to clear his throat to choke out a simple, “Yeah, baby. I really, really do.”
Tony kisses him, hard and fast -they’re lucky their teeth didn’t clack together - before pushing him off to the field. “Go on number 29! I can’t cheer for you if you’re terrible.”
“Thanks for that,” he says before hauling Tony in to kiss him once more, deeper and leaving him dazed before he runs back to his team.
He gets a pom-pom thrown at him.
***
twenty-two
There’s a Taylor Swift song blasting from the speakers to commemorate Tony’s birthday but Steve — Steve can’t find Tony anywhere in this strange house he got off-campus that Steve is nearly certain is haunted because why else would it be so cheap it practically a robbery.
Rhodes had mentioned to check the workshop but that had been the first place he looked anyway and he’s gone through the whole house at this point.
He’s standing by the kitchen before it comes to him and he’s off like a shot up the stairs, nearly bowling people over in his haste.
He gets to Tony’s room, places the bag on the table and climbs through the windowsill when he spots him, sitting cross-legged on the roof. “Tony?”
The surprise on Tony’s face honestly makes the 4 hour long journey entirely worth it.
“S-Steve? Ohmygod, Steve!” He yells, jumping up to crash into him and they nearly go skidding off the roof.
“Why don’t we head back in -”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony interrupts, “Let’s just sit out here.”
Steve isn’t really one to deny Tony anything, let alone on his birthday and definitely not when he’s beaming like that.
He tugs Steve down, his back to Steve’s chest. “I - I got worried when you didn’t call. Thought maybe you forgot.”
Steve frowns, “Forgot? Baby, in these last 16 years I have never not once forgotten the most important date on my calendar and I ain’t gonna start now.”
He brings Tony’s hands up to him and places a kiss on the palm, “There was a slight hold up. Just, wait here.”
“There’s only one exit.”
“You say that like you haven’t rolled off a roof to prove a point before,” Steve tells him, reaching through the window to snatch the bag before coming back to sit in front of Tony.
“Courtesy of the best bakery in New York,” Steve tells him, holding out the cupcake. “Bucky’s kitchen.”
He lights the candle he brought with him and sticks it in the middle. “Make a wish, Tones.”
Tony stares at him with a look so full of love with the flickering of the flame reflecting in his eyes that all the air rushes out of Steve’s lungs.
He blows out the candle before then promptly taking it out and smears the cupcake into Steve’s face that frosting goes up his nose.
Tony laughs so hard when Steve just stares at him that he nearly does roll off the roof.
Tony makes it up to him by licking up all the frosting though.
***
twenty-seven
Steve’s hands can’t stop shaking.
He can’t believe that after months and months of planning, they’re finally here.
That in just a few short minutes, he’s gonna get to call Tony his husband.
The doors open and Steve thinks his heart might have just stopped as he watches Tony walk towards him, resplendent in his tux and he just knows that the camera is recording his slack jawed expression because Tony is grinning at him as he makes his way down the aisle.
When they’re declared husbands, Steve kisses that grin right off his face and the camera catches their stupefied expressions.
***
thirty
Tony drops the blanket, yelling out, “Peek-A-Boo!”
Peter, completely amused, claps his tiny little hands from inside the crib.
“The betrayal I feel right now is overwhelming,” Steve calls from the door of the nursery. “This is my favourite game.”
He crouches down next to Tony, both hiding behind the blanket before dropping it again, making silly faces.
“Peek-A-Boo!”
Peter’s shriek of laughter can be heard all through the house.
