Hey, if you're still taking prompts - everything is making me cry atm, including today when my best friend gave me the best news ever. I was wondering if you could do something like that, with SteveTony and one of the comforting the other/wiping the tears away? Much love, and it's totally okay if this prompt isnt your jam. ^-^
(so so happy for you! and yes, i loved this prompt)
Steve let out a sigh of contentment, his eyes falling closed. There was a soft chuckle and a breath tickled his nose, but he didn’t open his eyes to look.
“How are you still crying?” Tony whispered into the space between them. “I don’t know how you can possibly have any tears left?”
The corners of Steve’s mouth lifted into a grin as he felt another tear slide down his cheek, following the curve of his face until it melted into the pillow. “It’s been an emotional day.”
“I don’t know why.” Tony shuffled forwards ever so slightly and pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s nose, his lips brushing away another tear. “You had to know what I was going to say.”
“Disagree,” Steve murmured back, keeping his voice low. There was no need to be speaking so quietly, but the moment felt too precious to risk a louder tone. “I can never predict anything you do.”
Tony preened and Steve laughed lowly.
“I’m glad I keep you on your toes.”
“Always.”
“But in this case,” Tony said, his hand dancing down Steve’s arm, “I hope you know I was a sure thing.”
“Are you ever a sure thing?” Steve squirmed when Tony’s lips tickled underneath his eye and yelped when Tony pinched him.
“When it’s you asking, I always am.”
Steve’s eyes flew open at that, taken aback by the unbridled honestly that was so rare from Tony and then again by the proximity of their bodies. He knew he should have been used to Tony pressed against him from head to toe, but it felt like one of those things that Steve would never not be awed by, would never take for granted.
Tony scoffed, his hand sliding round Steve’s body to press them ever closer.
“Shut up,” he muttered and Steve felt another tear drip from his eye, smile big on his face.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. I just know that look in your eyes.” Tony took one finger and drew a heart on the small of Steve’s back, the cool metal of his new ring catching Steve’s warm skin.
“Leave me alone,” Steve said, letting his eyelids fall again and another blissful sigh pass his lips. “I’m happy.”
Tony leant forward again, his un-styled hair trailing over Steve’s cheek as he kissed one more tear away.
thecitylightshow replied to your post “Also, I raise these questions because they’re fun to ask and I like...”
I agree with you! There's always got to be a reason for the third person to be in the way, as it were. I tend to create a lot of detail in my head, though it rarely makes it to the page.
@thecitylightshow Exactly! I totally get that there are some people you don’t realize are awful until it’s too late, but I enjoy the story more when the “competition” is actually a viable option. It raises the stakes, too, because you know the story isn’t just going to end with some big reveal that the third person is a monster and the main pairing ends up together.
Prompt: Bucky (and Hydra) are discovered way earlier. So when Steve is defrosted, he meets Tony and his husband James Stark.
Steve could hear the conversation going on in the kitchen, and he didn’t have to strain his unnatural hearing range to do so.
“Why would you not report this Romanoff?” Fury was demanding, and god, Steve had no reason to like the man and he didn’t make it easy.
“That would’ve been counter-productive.” Rushman- Romanoff’s reply came in slightly accented English, and Steve could hear Fury’s spluttering the same as he could almost picture Stark- Tony’s smirk.
“To what?”
“To keeping him away from Shield.” Romanoff told him, and more spluttering ensued.
“You helped-?!“ Steve missed whatever one of them said next, distracted by the elevator opening down the corridor and two steps of footsteps clumping out.
“Shit,” one voice hissed, “the fuck did they do to get yelled out now?” the speaker emerged into Steve’s line of sight with the end of his sentence – he was short and stocky, with weather-beaten skin, scruffy blond hair, a flash of purple in his ears (one of which he was fiddling with) and a bow and arrow set slung across his bag. He swallowed hard at the sight of Steve. “Oh. That.”
Steve merely raised an eyebrow, and the blond man turned to say something to whoever had followed him out of the elevator.
It had been a strange few days.
He’d been wondering through the what-happens-next when Tony had come in with Agent Romanoff (as his assistant Natalie Rushman) and ripped the world out from under him a second time.
(Watch out for the break!)
The first time had been two hours previously, when he’d woken up (a shock in itself) and after the worst fucking charade – Steve suspects it was on purpose – been informed he was almost seventy years in the future. They’d won the war, and Steve hadn’t even been there to see it. God, Steve ached – Peggy was old but losing her memory, Howard was gone, the Commandoes were gone, and Bucky had been gone before he even ended up in this mess. All he wanted was a familiar face in this alien century; and for a second he almost did.
Tony had stuck his head around the door of the room Steve was in, and at first Steve had thought he looked almost unbearably like Howard. But his face had broken into a bright grin, and Steve could pick out the differences. His facial hair was an obvious one, a full goatee that’s neatly cared for, but there’s his eyes – brighter than Howard’s, like whiskey – and the laughter lines around them. This man is older than Howard was to Steve, but seems both younger and wise. Kinder. He’d certainly happy to see Steve, and they’d come in and shut the door with so little sound that Steve had known they weren’t meant to be there, almost endearing him to them.
They’d brought him to the tower, arguing in quiet Russian – Steve knew what the language sounded like, even if he didn’t know what they were saying. They’d introduced him to Jarvis and presented him with a room and a studio, and set him off discovering the world, promising him company. It’d taken two days for Fury to show up again – in that time Steve had discovered, perhaps, more than he’d ever wanted to know, but discovered a love for animated films – and he’s done so with barely concealed anger.
That had been an hour ago.
The second elevator occupant joins the blond man then, and Steve has the fleeting notion that he’s still drowning. The man’s hair is longer than Steve ever saw it, and there’s a good week of stubble that would previously have been loathed – he’s taller and broader and older, and has a fucking metal arm, but the resemblance is undeniable. It’s worse than seeing Tony and seeing Howard, seeing this man who looks like the ghost of Bucky Barnes. He wants to say something, introduce himself, but he’s sure the blond man had recognised him, so this man must too. He can’t make his mouth work, his throat’s too dry and his lungs can’t find the air-
“Stevie, shit-“ the long-haired, metal-armed, Not-Bucky swears, and drops whatever he’d been holding, to dash around to where Steve’s sat on the couch. “Breath with me, c’mon Stevie.” He utters and the voice is the same, and Steve had been so certain no one would ever call him Stevie again, had mourned his loses and somehow-
“B-Bucky?” he manages, and the grin is so familiar. “What-?” he tries, but Bucky just pulls him into a hug. Tight and all-encompassing, and for a second Steve feels utterly tiny again. The loss of the past strikes again, another sledgehammer to the chest, and he buries his face in Bucky’s neck, clutching at what he thinks might be the modern equivalent of a tac-suit. Bucky’s clutching him back, hands crossed and pressed tightly over the strap of his suspenders at the back.
“God, you look like you just stepped out…” Bucky muttered, leaning back enough to rest his hands on Steve’s shoulders. His smile was bright and his eyes were damp – Tony had nonchalantly pointed Steve in the direction of the wardrobe, ridding Steve of the tight, shield-issued, tees and pants, letting him step back into 40s fashion and putting him a little more at ease in his skin. Then his smile grew into a grin, and were Steve still that skinny kid, he’d be worried. He glanced at the blond man over his shoulder. “Think Nat’ll take him shopping?”
The blond stopped looking quite so worried, and shared Bucky’s amusement. “Oh, I’ve got to come along this time.” Bucky laughed, and reeled Steve back in for another hug as the kitchen door opens.
“You’re home!” Tony declares, punching the blond in the shoulder. Bucky steps back then, tugging Steve up to stand, squeezing his arm with another smile, before walking right up to Tony – who looks oddly nervous and Steve doesn’t know why- oh. Bucky kissed the younger Stark, metal hand coming up to delicately cradle Tony’s jaw. There’s a ring, golden but probably not gold if Steve’s come to understand anything lately, on Bucky’s left ring finger. Steve thinks back on Tony’s gesticulating and finds in his memory a matching one.
Bucky’s married. To a man. He thinks, and he can’t help but smile. Maybe the future’s not so bad.
Everyone turns to look at him then, and he realises he said that aloud. Bucky’s grinning at him, eyes shining, and Tony looks – well, he looks a little dazed.
“You’re okay with it?” the blond man asks. Steve shrugs.
“More surprised they can than they are.” Any worry or doubt or cautious anger that had remained on the blond’s face then dissipates, and he holds out a hand for Steve to shake (Fury’s eye twitches, but he does not object). Steve takes it gladly, and finds that it’s calloused and rough, from more than just twanging a bowstring.
“Clint Barton.” He introduces himself, “Welcome to the future, Rogers.” He’s grinning and the distinction between Cap and Rogers seems important and he’s grateful for it. Romanoff – Natasha? – comes up to Clint’s shoulder, smiling and Steve thinks, glancing at Bucky and the arm he’s got slung round Tony’s waist, that he can do this. He has to.
Steve finds watching Bucky interact with Tony soothing.
Oh, it aches something shocking – a large what-if that hangs with Peggy’s smile behind his eyes – and often he feels guilty; he knows what happened to Bucky now, and is torn between the same ache of wishing he’d caught him and the guilt of being glad he didn’t, because Bucky gets this.
Bucky gets to hum as he cooks, and be hugged from behind, gets to place kisses into Tony’s hay-wire hair and roll his eyes because Tony is crazy, but Bucky loves him. It’s so obvious, and so wonderful, that Bucky’s head over heels for Tony – they’ve been married several years and it seems for all the world they’re still honeymooning. Steve enjoys sketching them, and as the two of them take him on a tour of the future, piece-by-piece, he shows his thanks in the drawings. He leaves them where he knows they’ll find them, and often they’ll be stuck to the fridge, or one of the walls of Tony’s workshop. They’re almost like proud parents, especially in the way they mother the hell out of the rest of their friends and take all the risk themselves, using each-other as battering rams and distractions, secure somehow in the knowledge that they’re good at what they do, and they’ll always come back to each other. It doesn’t stop them yelling at one another for getting hurt, or making stupid calls… but Steve’s never seen them go to bed angry. It’s a relationship of determination and trust, of laughter and love, the two of them now so intertwined in their routines and opinions and even how they speak, that even to Steve who knew Bucky first, alone, and best, one without the other is jarring in the worst possible way.
If Steve were inclined to believe in the kind of fairy tale with a happy ending, he’d say it was True Love; and not just for them, but for the whole family they’re building from their broken friends. Steve mentions it, one day, and there must be something sad in his eyes – it’s only been a few months after all – because he comes home from Shield to find a puppy waiting for him, wriggling in Bucky’s arms.
“What the fuck?” Steve asks, stalling only momentarily, but gladly retrieving the wiggling golden ball from his friend, and the little fella gives a happy yip. Bucky is somewhere between exasperated and amused, the very best kind of fond, as he sighs and scratches the dog behind its ears.
“Tony.” Bucky says it like it’s explanation enough, and Steve wonders what it says about the eccentric genius that it kind of is. Steve raises an eyebrow anyway, the slightly judgy look ruined by the dog licking up his neck and cheek happily, making Steve laugh so easily. Bucky’s grinning at him.
“I don’t need a dog.” Steve tries to point out, but Bucky waves him off.
“Tony doesn’t know how to show people he cares. Have you not met Liho yet?” Bucky asked, but knowing the answer was no, he barrelled on. “He decided that Natasha needed something that would provide unconditional love without talking to her, and bought her Liho. That cat is an asshole.” Bucky’s rubbing the shoulder of his flesh arm unconsciously, and Steve’s certain there’s a story there that involves far too many claws. “You need someone to love, and considering it’s illegal to buy people, ta-daa. He got you a puppy.” Steve just stares for a moment, oddly touched by Tony’s gift. He hugs the dog a little closer, and the pup is only too happy to wiggle even more and yip right in Steve’s ear.
“I- does this happen a lot?” he asks, because he’s not a hundred percent sure he can say thank you without crying.
“Most occasions in the beginning. Hell, even without occasions once or twice… but he finally understands he doesn’t have to buy his friends.” Bucky’s gaze seems a little far off, and then he smirks, drawing himself back into the moment. “Those that wanted to be bought got taught a lesson.” Steve grins, “and Tony learnt that stuffed toys you can’t get through the door?? A total no-go.”
“Wait, what?” Steve asks around a laugh, but Bucky just grins and tugs him into a hug.
“Welcome to the Stark-Barnes family of misfits Stevie.” He tells him.
“Happy to be here.” Steve whispers, and despite the ache in his heart finds that he means it.
thecitylightshow replied to your post: just realized that i’ll probably never be able to...
I’m sorry dude, I know how you feel - Britain doesn’t get non-binary either.
yeah. i feel like i’m never be able to truly come out in france ‘cause on top of the whole not understanding what the fuck is non-binary, the language is also super mega gendered and the gender neutral pronouns that have been created by the queer community don’t feel like they fit to me like ‘they/them’ does.
thecitylightshow replied to your post “Hey everyone! How are you today? Having a good day? What’s happening...”
I'm confined to the couch because my knees are dead, but I finally got to sit and do my new dot-to-dot book because of it! :D How's things with yoooou? :)
Oh no, why are your knees dead?! I hope they’ll get better soon! Though I’m confused about how one can have dead knees. And I had to search up dot-to-dot books and they look awesome! I’m now tempted to get one for myself and I’m sure that’ll keep you entertained for a while. :D
if you put "/ works / 10903404" without the spaces on the end of a normal ao3 link, you should get it (I can't send links D:) it's called "Somedays It Don't Come Easy" - I really hope you like it ( /)-(\ ) :D
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS WAS SO GOOD!!!!!
(EVERYONE READ THIS FIC IT WAS INSPIRED BY MY POST CACW ART OF TONY FINDING THE RING STEVE WAS GONNA GIVE TO HIM AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)
