#@icecoldreactor

//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."

@icecoldreactor

——

Tony listened to the video back, that was a message sent to Rogers late last night when Tony had been drinking a few after a charity ball he attended. He groaned from where he was hiding under his bed covers, usually Tony didn’t get embarrassed easily because he had done some pretty crazy things before while drunk but leaving a message to not only the Captain of your team but also the guy you were hardcore crushing on but also clashing with on and off for years, well…. This took the cake for sure. For the first time in a long time the genius was truly embarrassed as he thought perhaps he could stay under these sheets and just disappear.

Steve hadn't know what to make of the message at first. Initially, when his phone had buzzed in the late hours of the night, when he was already lying listlessly on his bed, half asleep, he had tensed. Assuming it was a mission, or an emergency. Especially when the caller ID came up as Tony.

And then, after listening to it...once in total bewilderment and then a second time for clarity...he wondered if it wasn't some sort of prank. Tony liked to joke around certainly and pranks were not out of his realm of humor. And yet...if it was a prank; Steve didn't get the punchline.

He had mulled it over for hours, never going back to sleep. By dawn he was dressed and heading out the door. But instead of meeting Sam for their usual morning run or Natasha for coffee, he was heading straight to the tower.

Half way up to Tony's penthouse, he countered Happy.

"Mornin' Cap, what brings you--?"

"I need to see Tony." Steve said, his voice edged with something. It wasn't anger, or worry. But it was urgent all the same. "Is he here?"

Happy blinked; "Yeah, but I haven't seen him yet today--don't think he's up yet. Why don't you come back later, I'll give him a message."

The blonde shook his head and moved past the chauffer/bodyguard.

"This can't wait, sorry."

He was trotting towards the stairs, forcing Happy to follow, but losing the man around the fourth flight. It wasn't Happy's fault--Steve was a super soldier after all.

Upon arriving in the main room, greeted by JARVIS, Steve stopped and stared around. "Tony?" he called. "We need to talk."

//you’re welcome

Steve hadn't quite caught Barton's mumbled warning, his ears still slightly buzzing from the explosions during the fight and his close proximity to them. He was dirt covered and his suit had taken some obvious damage--scratches and scrapes showing through the torn fabric, but nothing he couldn't walk away from.

He turned just in time to see Tony stalking towards him and blinked in surprise; having been caught off guard. Steve knew that look--that hot fury in Stark's eyes, the hard set of his jaw and the thin line of his lips beneath the dark facial hair.

Inwardly he cringed, knowing he had made Tony worry, knowing the radio silence between them during the battle must have left him on edge. In the heat of the moment, Steve had been forced to put his focus elsewhere.

"Tony, I'm--" he started to explain or apologize, or tell his boyfriend to calm down and not make a scene in front of the others. But before he could get the rest of the words out, Tony had grabbed him and pulled him forward before letting their lips crash together.

Steve exhaled, gasping softly at the contact, then quickly allowed himself to sink into it, wrapping his big arms around Tony's smaller frame and drawing him in closer, parting his lips against his to deepen the kiss and give them both what they needed. Only regretting that Tony likely could taste the dried blood on his lower lip from the cut there. But Steve was fine...he was home. And with Tony in his arms; right where he belonged.

He let his hands slip up to cup the sides of Tony's jaw, fingers playing through his hair as they came up for air, the Captain bowing his head against Stark's. "I'm fine. It's okay."

Steve had heard Tony's approach, but as he had turned to greet his love, he hadn't expected what was waiting for him. Startled, he stood completely still, a deer caught in the headlights. Those big blue eyes wide.

Tony's words seemed to smack into him all at once and Rogers was an instant shade of pink, all the way from the tips of his ears down to his neck.

"I uh..." he licked his lips slowly, looking Tony up and down as he approached him in the red and gold armor. Steve bit his lip unconsciously, looking like he was keeping back an actual whine of want. Then he blinked, eyes on the helmet again. "...I don't know who told you that but I'm going to have a very long talk with them." he said finally, obviously flustered but not in an unpleasant way. Seemingly caught between embarrassment and also finding the way Tony stood there fully armored, OBVIOUSLY smirking at him behind his helmet much MUCH sexier than he should.

The blush darkened. "I'm going to murder them, actually..." he muttered, trying to look away. Hoping that Tony wasn't noticing that he was suddenly half hard.

Steve gave a small gasp as the collar was put snapped into place around his neck, the fit snug but not too tight. His face flushed immediately, reaching a hand to trace along it tentatively.

It didn’t take long before the nurses and doctors flocked in like flies around shit to check on his condition, Tony hated to be around anyone in a white coat. Shortly followed by the team, and all his friends well, all but one. He thought maybe the captain was still recovering from battle himself but Peter informed Tony that Tony had been unconscious for months, they were unsure if he’d wake. The world was slowly recovering and getting back on track, so where was Steve? Did he not want to visit him? Honestly the last few days leading up to the battle, Tony had never felt so sure, so connected to the blonde but maybe he got ahead of himself. Even pepper had seen the look in his eyes when he spoke of him, she knew who he was thinking of.

Steve laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling and the slow listless rotation of the fan. He had no energy to move, his eyes bloodshot and tired. He couldn't remember the last time he had really slept. Not that he needed all that much sleep with the serum. Though after the battle with Thanos, Bruce had warned him that he had taxed himself to his limits and that there would be lingering damage even with the serum. Some things could still leave scars.

Bucky peered in on him, sighing. "When did you get home last night?" Barnes asked his friend.

Steve looked at him briefly and sighed. "Few hours ago."

"Hospital again?"

Rogers nodded and Bucky sighed. "I don't understand why you keep it a secret, Stevie. It ain't like you're a wanted man anymore."

Steve didn't have an answer, but Bucky suspected the real reason behind Roger's late night vigils at Stark's bedside, rarely appearing during the day when the remainder of the team was still there.

"It's my fault, Buck." the blonde croaked eventually. That made the other still, wide-eyed.

"What?"

"It's my fault." Steve said again, more quietly this time. "If I was stronger, he wouldn't have had to use the gauntlet. I could have survived it better. He wouldn't be..."

Steve closed his eyes and went silent, but Bucky hadn't missed the crack in his voice. It broke Bucky's heart to see his best friend like this. Made him angry too, that Steve was putting the blame on himself when the only real person to blame was the giant purple dick-head that was now dust.

Steve's cellphone rang then and Rogers ignored it. Bucky moved to answer it out of frustration. "Captain America's answering service, how may I direct your call?" Bucky teased into the phone.

It was Rhodey on the other end. Bucky's snark disappeared his eyes going wide as he looked to Steve. "He's awake."

**

Steve didn't know, or care, how many traffic laws he had broken getting here as fast as he could on his motorcycle. He had forgone the elevator; too impatient to wait and instead had sprinted up 8 flights of stairs to get to the ICU where Tony was being taken care of in a private room.

He strode towards the doorway and then froze, blinking as he spied Stark propped up in bed. Awake. Somewhat alert.

"Tony." The man's man escaped his lips like a long breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding in. For a moment, The Captain was frozen in place, only a few short feet dividing him from the man he loved so much, had risked so much for, had....had done so much damage to.

All at once the man was on the move, dropping onto Tony's bedside and dropping his head to his chest, gripping Tony's good hand and squeezing tight. "I'm sorry..."

 Steve woke up shivering hard. Curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle. He swore he could feel the icy water seeping into his skin; the chunks of glacier closing in above him, blocking out chance of escape even if he could escape the wreckage. Acrid smoke in his lungs...

Steve let out a cry in spite of himself and sat up harshly, kicking at what was trapping him only to find he was tangled in the bed sheets, pillows flying to the floor in his struggle, one exploding in a puff of downy white feathers.

Rogers looked around, still panicked, trying to make sense of where he was. Not in the plane. He knew that now. The crash was decades ago.

Why did he feel so rough then?

Steve looked down, realizing he was bandaged and patched up, gauze and tape over now almost healed wounds and slowly fading bruises. 

The mountains. The fight and explosion, where he had been knocked from his motorcycle and took a hard tumble of the mountainside, half buried under an mountain of snow before Tony and the others found him and dug him out.

“Tony?” he called into the empty bedroom, hoping his fiancé was somewhere just out of sight, perhaps in the bathroom or in one of the offices. “Tony?” he called again, climbing from the bed now, muscles only slightly sore. The serum was taking care of the worst of the injuries as always...but falling off a mountain was no little tumble.

Steve was still shivering hard, like his body thought it was still trapped in the snow. It made it difficult to get from the bed, his legs nearly going out from him. He caught himself on the edge, catching his breath just to look out the wall length windows of the penthouse to see that it was snowing here too. Big heavy flakes falling over New York from dark swollen snow clouds that littered the sky.

It would have been beautiful, if it didn’t feel like it was closing in around him.