soda pops
1.6k words, fluff and some angst, stevetony being chaotic idiots in love
for @starkrogerrs who asked for a soda can from the unconventional proposals list
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If anybody asks, Steve would smile and say it was very romantic. Very Tony. Because if he went into any further detail, nobody would quite believe him.
Tony, on the other hand, would laugh and say that Steve’s in love with a man in a can. So, really, it wasn’t outside the natural progression of things.
It starts with a simple trip to Coney Island. Getting away on a date, just the two of them without any of the Avengers, was hard. They had rolled with it when they realised, by some stroke of luck, that they were both free for the day.
Now, Steve was flushed from their ride on the Cyclone – it never failed to baffle Tony that the Captain who literally jumped out of planes was the same person who clutched Tony’s hand tightly every time they rode a rollercoaster.
The sun was shining brightly, though, and Steve had wanted something cold to drink, so Tony’s here, handing the nice lady in the shop a wad of bills she certainly deserves in exchange of a can of soda.
“I hope you like how I taste,” he grins down at the Iron Man cartoons decorating the can. There had been a Captain America themed soda, too, but Steve always liked Iron Man better, and –
“Steve?” Tony calls out, jerking back when the face he sees next to him is decidedly not Steve. The little girl sticks her tongue out at him from her perch in her mother’s arms. Tony spares a second to give her a brief smile before he starts panicking.
Turning around for any sign of a big, blond supersoldier, Tony tightens his grip around the can in his hand. The cold surface helps to ground him as he calls out again, louder this time, “Steve?”
There’s little use to it, though. Endless rows of people bustle by him, families with their children and couples leaning on each other. The sight of them makes Tony feel antsy.
Had Steve been kidnapped? He had been right there next to Tony. Where could he have gone in the span of eight heartbeats?
Tony pats his pockets, searching for his phone, belatedly realising that Steve had held onto his phone after their last picture. Stupid, he curses himself, torn between staying put so Steve knows where to find him and needing to move to find his errant boyfriend.
He’s supposed to be the futurist, he should have anticipated this – or some variation of it. Nobody expects to be kidnapped in Coney Island, but Steve always seemed like a magnet for trouble. And he –
“Tony!”
Tony whips his head around so fast his neck cricks. That doesn’t matter, though, because Steve is there. He hasn’t been kidnapped. He’s… walking over to Tony.
Steve slips between the crowds with a sheepish smile. When he gets to Tony, he hastily apologizes, “sorry. I just saw they were selling your favorite candy, and, here.”
He reaches into his pocket to take out a familiar red candy wrapper that he peels open.
Tony’s about to say something indignant along the lines of don’t leave me like that when Steve presses the candy against his lips. Reflexively, he accepts it, his mouth chewing on it and its rich flavour bursting everywhere.
“Do you like it?” Steve asks, and Tony, heart still racing from the adrenaline spiked by his earlier fear, can only blink at him.
I love him, Tony thinks suddenly. I love him. So much. The candy is sweet in his mouth, and Steve is smiling at Tony, his hair a rumpled mess, his blue eyes shining with everything Tony thought he’d never have.
He wants to hold onto it, wants to be lost in it forever.
This man who knows his favorite candy, who knows his worst fears, who isn’t afraid to go against him, who’s seen his greatest failures and who always offers a hand, soft and constant and steady, to help him get back up. Tony loves him. He never wants it to stop, he wants –
“Marry me,” the words slip out, and as soon as they’re in the air, Tony feels calm. Resolved.
He’s wanted to ask the question for months, but now that he’s asked, it feels like something’s fallen perfectly together, the stars in him shifting to form a new constellation, bright and clear and true, and he smiles at Steve, wide, happy, excited.
“What?” Steve frowns, incredulous and confused.
Tony supposes that he should, at least, get one part of this right.
He looks ruefully down at the can he’s holding, the rows of Iron Man cartoons merrily flying around.
It’ll have to do.
Getting down on one knee, he clears his throat. There are people stopping to stare at them, and the wood of the walkway beneath his knee is hard, but all of that is irrelevant. There’s only Steve, and him, and the thundering of his heart.
“Will you, Steven Grant Rogers, marry me?” Tony repeats, offering the soda can up to Steve with one hand.
“Are you – you’re seriously – ” Steve cuts himself off, pressing a hand over his mouth to stop the wobbling of his voice, and Tony’s heart stutters.
Steve deserves more than this.
What was Tony thinking? Why didn’t he wait? He has a ring back at home, had planned flowers and fireworks, and here he is, proposing to the love of his life with a soda can.
Of course Steve wouldn’t be happy.
But Tony doesn’t think he can bear it if Steve didn’t stop staring at Tony with too wide eyes that look horrified, so he rushes to explain. “Steve, I just – I love you. So much. And I want this, I want you, forever. If you’ll have me – ”
Steve is still staring. That wasn’t quite how Tony planned it. Not that he planned any of this. But he doesn’t know where to go from here. Maybe he should stand up, or –
“Stop,” he hears Steve breathe, and Tony freezes, still on one knee. “I haven’t said yes.”
It’s Tony’s turn to stare. “You don’t have to.”
The words don’t come easily, but they’re the truth.
Tony doesn’t want to force Steve into something he isn’t ready for, and if he’ll never be ready, Tony will have whatever Steve is willing to give him. Marriage won’t change the fact that Tony loves Steve.
Still, it’d be a lie to say it didn’t hurt, and Tony stays on one knee for two reasons: the first is because he doesn’t know if he can stand after having his heart torn like this, and the second is because Tony, despite trying to hold back his sense of dread, wants to make Steve happy.
So he stays there on one knee, offering a soda can – offering his heart – to the one man he loves beyond anything.
With a pained noise, Steve’s fingers curl around his outstretched hand, warm and gentle. Tony’s breath hitches, the touch a burning comfort.
Then, Steve nods sharply – the kind of nod he does when he’s made up his mind.
“It’s not every day that the most wonderful man in the world asks me to marry him,” Steve smiles, and Tony’s heart stutters again, this time joyous, stumbling over the hope blooming there.
“Yeah?” Tony bites his lip. The sense of surety from earlier trickles back through him.
Steve steps closer. “Ask me one more time.”
“Will you – ”
“Yes,” Steve pulls him up, kissing him, hot and heady and happy. “A thousand times, yes.”
“Steve,” Tony doesn’t know what to say except, “I love you.”
“I’m keeping the soda can,” Steve laughs, “and I love you, too.”
“I’ll buy you the entire company. Just keep kissing me.”
“As my fiancé commands.”
Tony kisses his smile, sweet and bright and full of promise.
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There’s applause all around them. People with their cameras out. This’ll make the front page news, they’ll be trending everywhere. They should probably take this somewhere more private.
But here, in Steve’s arms, all Tony can think of his how much he loves Steve, and how wondrous it is to be loved in return.
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Steve pops open the soda can, offering it to Tony.
“No,” Tony shakes his head, steps bouncing cheerfully, “it’s yours.”
“It’s ours,” Steve grins, wide and happy and beautiful, “part of the deal: the first bite of my plate and the first drink from my cup.” He pauses to kiss Tony again. “Or from my can.”
“Have you been looking for wedding vows? You might make a man jealous,” Tony smiles, helpless with giddiness and fondness for his fiancé – fiancé! – his mind still flailing for some coherent thought.
His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and he relents without much more of a fight, sipping the drink, letting the sweetness of it fizzle against his tongue. He can’t wait to put his ring on Steve’s finger, to feel it against his skin, but for now, Tony watches as Steve carefully holds the soda can.
“Well,” Steve teases fondly back, twining their hands together, “I caught you reading a Wikihow article on how to propose. What was I supposed to do?”
Tony laughs, unashamed.
He had been in dire straits, and it warmed him to know that Steve had known all this time but had been willing to wait for his mind to catch up with his heart.
Squeezing his fiancé’s hand, Tony points out happily, “you’re the one who said yes.”
“How could I say no to all these little Iron Men?”
Tony stares at the bright red and yellow soda can for a second. Pepper is going to have his head when she hears what he proposed with. Rhodey is likely going to faint from laughter. But none of that mattered.
All that matters is that Steve liked it.
That Tony is marrying Steve.
Which, actually, gives him another grand idea.
“If you have your vows, what do you say: next stop, City Hall?” Tony grins, only half-joking.
Steve huffs fondly, pulling Tony back in for another long, lingering kiss.
“Don’t tempt me.”
