#ad1thi

4. (how to be) somebody you miss

Tony is fifteen when Steve leaves him for the first time. The second time, Steve is twenty seven and they break up. At thirty six, they both promise never to try again.

So when they meet again at the helicarrier, Tony thinks the universe should really stop playing this cosmic joke on him.

i’m always most excited about the next story i’m writing, and this is most likely the story that’ll take me the longest to write. but it’s also been a very rewarding endeavour because the dynamic of finding love at the right time is always very fascinating to me, and exploring how steve and tony would have loved each other as children, as adults coming into their own, and finally as superheroes working to save the world is right up my alley

5. see it with the lights out

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

making edits is fun, but making edits for a fic? even better. there’s something to social media edits that gives a tantalising glimpse to another part of a relationship, and this was an entirely self-indulgent fic despite someone requesting for steve and dodger. 

shout out to the lovely anon for giving me the perfect excuse to make this particular edit because. it is exactly my kind of soft and delicious ;D

“Hey, Tony,” Jim says as he approaches, still with that dazzling smile of his. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“At my parents’ house?”

“You never come back for Christmas,” Jim reminds him, as if Tony wasn’t aware.

“What about you? Do you visit every year?”

Jim shakes his head. “Not always. I’m on leave right now so I’ve got the time.”

And just like that it comes back to him--their falling out. Tony had wanted Jim to come to MIT with him, he was definitely smart enough to get in, but Jim had chosen to go into the Air Force Academy all the way on the other side of the country. It had felt like the ultimate betrayal to Tony at the time and they’ve barely spoken to each other since.

“Do you want to go catch up?” Jim asks, snapping him out of his walk down memory lane.

“Sure,” Tony says without thinking, like the idiot he is.

They end up in the backyard garden his mother maintains. It’s cold but there’s no snow on the ground, the season unusually warm this year. Jim has a mug of eggnog, but Tony has his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, feeling awkward.

He doesn’t know what to say at first, but Jim asks him a few questions that Tony clumsily navigates through and Jim doesn’t seem to mind. After a little while Tony relaxes and they’re able to talk more easily until finally it feels like a single day hasn’t gone by since they left home.

“Do you remember when Mr. Malone--”

“--started a fire in the chem lab? Yeah.”

“That was probably the most exciting thing he ever did.”

“His lectures were so boring!”

Jim’s laughing so hard he starts leaning against Tony and Tony has to put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. As Jim’s laughter dies down and he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, Tony smiles at him, wondering how he could have ever been so mad at him that they stopped talking.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, hand still on Jim’s shoulder. “I was a real dick to you about the Air Force thing. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.”

Jim’s smile softens and he reaches up to curl his hand around Tony’s wrist and give him a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. We were kids. I’m just sorry we fell out of contact with each other. I missed talking to you.”

“I missed you too,” Tony admits, shifting awkwardly in place. “I feel like college wasn’t as fun as it could have been with you there.”

“Yeah,” Jim says quietly, dropping his hand from Tony’s arm.

They stand there silently for a few moments, and Tony casts about for something else to talk about, something less embarrassing.

“So, uh, no ring on that finger, huh?” he asks, and immediately wishes he could kick himself in the ass.

Jim doesn’t seem to take offense, just smiles and shakes his head. “Got nobody to give that ring to right now,” he says. “I heard about, uh…”

“Yeah,” Tony replies, staring down at his feet. He has no doubt his mother told Mrs. Rhodes about his divorce and she probably immediately told Jim.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says, but Tony shakes his head before he can apologize more.

“Not your fault. Just didn’t work out.”

They fall silent again looking out over the garden, and Tony nearly startles when he feels Jim’s gloved hand slip into his and hold onto him. Tony hesitates, then curls his hand around Jim’s in return. They don’t say anything right away, until a couple minutes later it starts to snow, the soft flakes illuminated by the moon and the lights from the house.

“Would you look at that?” Jim says gleefully. “Maybe we’ll have snow for Christmas after all.”

Tony looks over at him, watching the way Jim smiles as he looks up at the light flurry of snow coming down over them. Like there’s nothing better in the world. Tony really, really misses that smile.

Mostly he misses having that smile directed at him.

Jim notices him staring after a moment and grins. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“Maybe,” Tony replies instinctively, then, “yes.”

Jim starts to let go of Tony’s hand so he can wipe his face and Tony immediately clamps down on Jim’s hand, not letting him go.

“I was just kidding, you don’t have anything. I was just looking at your face.”

Jim gives him a puzzled look for a moment, then he just smiles again. “Good to see you’re just as weird as you used to be.”

“It’s a good face,” Tony mumbles somewhat pathetically in his defense.

“You have a good face too, Tones,” Jim replies, leaning into him again as he adjusts his grip on Tony’s hand to hold on more securely.

Sam gives him a smile before crouching down slightly to give Bucky a peck on the lips, causing Tony to look away. Tony can’t tell if the new pain he’s starting to feel in his chest is from the injuries he received from their recent battle or if it’s heartbreak. Though, if it’s the latter, Tony knows he has no right to feel that way. Sam and Bucky are happily together. (Hell, Tony was the first one to find out about it after seeing the two of them slow dance together in the dead of the night in the common room, ending with the two of them kissing deeply.) He knows that his feelings for both men are something he should never act on. Despite the marks that connects his soul to both of them—a fact that he’s hidden from everyone—, Tony isn’t worthy of their love, at least that’s what his mind has led him to believe. The dark thoughts that haunt his mind.The self-loathing and depressing thoughts that taunt him daily, telling him how much he doesn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. The thoughts that tell him he doesn’t deserve to bear the mark of two amazing human beings. The thoughts that tell him how much he doesn’t deserve to be alive and that he should constantly throw himself into danger, even if there is no need for it.

Tony knows that one day, soon he thinks by how things are going now, that eventually those thoughts will swallow him whole. And Tony knows that the day Death comes to greet him the first thing that he will say is, I never stood a chance against those thoughts, did I? 

“Never stood a chance against what thoughts?” The question snaps Tony back to reality. He panics a bit when he realizes that he spoke aloud without meaning to. “I’m going to ask again, Tony, what thoughts?” Sam asks, worry painting his face. 

Tony gives them his press smile. “Oh, nothing. Everything is peachy keen here, boys.” Tony quickly changes the subject into asking what the full extent of his injury are, hoping they’ll take the bait. Though, judging by the glance Sam and Bucky give each other, Tony knows they’ll keep a close eye on him later.

A moment later, Loki throws open the doors to his room. Thor scrambles for one of the sheets, wrapping it around himself.

“Father has—” Loki starts to announce and then stops, his nose wrinkling. “What are you doing?”

Thor drops the casual pose he’d been holding. Maybe it had been too casual but as his brother and friends constantly remind him, subtlety is not his strong suit. Unfortunately, the blanket comes loose as he relaxes and he has to grab it before it fully drops. Well, he thinks ruefully, it isn’t like Loki hasn’t seen you done worse.

“Are you—were you—is there someone else in here?” Loki demands, eyes narrowing.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Thor blusters, feigning outrage. He knows that Anthony thinks he should just talk to his brother but Loki is…he wouldn’t say fragile exactly but he knows it’s been hard on him since Sif and the Warriors Three first came to the palace. He, Loki, and Anthony had been close growing up but things had changed once Loki started studying under their mother and Thor with the palace guards. It isn’t as though Loki doesn’t get along with his friends but he certainly isn’t as close with them as he is with Anthony and with Sif’s disapproval and the Warriors Three teasing him, benign as it may be, he’s sensed a growing distance between them, bridged mostly by Anthony. He doesn’t want Loki to think that he’s trying to take Anthony away from him.

“I am the picture of decorum,” he continues, “the soul of propriety, the—the—”

“I can smell what you’ve been doing,” Loki says flatly.

Thor’s mouth clicks shut. “Oh.”

They stand there awkwardly for a moment before Thor admits, “This is not the worst thing you’ve ever caught me doing.”

Loki smirks, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Are you referring to that time I found you with the Warriors Three?” he asks. Thor thinks he might hear Anthony choking in the bathroom. “Or when you tried to hide from Heimdall or—”

“So this isn’t even one of the worst,” Thor cuts him off before Anthony hears anything else. Many of these stories Anthony likely already knows, having been here for them, but he’s spent the last two centuries studying under the Dwarves of Nidavellir and Thor had gotten up to plenty while he’d been gone because he hadn’t been there to stop him. His mother calls Anthony the voice of reason in their friendship. He remembers how Loki had howled at that, insisting that he was the voice of reason but Anthony had just laughed and called him a terrible enabler but he’d said it fondly and Loki’s anger had melted away. Thor thinks it probably says something that Anthony is the voice of reason.

“What did you come to tell me?” he asks, hoping to forestall a further recitation of the things he’d done while Anthony was away.

“Father told me that Anthony is returning this evening,” Loki says, a pleased smile spreading across his face.

“Ah,” Thor replies awkwardly, unsure how to tell him that Anthony has already returned.

“And I thought I would tell you so that you can finally pull your head out of your ass but I see it’s still stuck as far as ever.”

“Hey,” he protests. “My head isn’t—what are you even talking about?”

Loki arches an eyebrow. “Your feelings for Anthony or are you as oblivious to those as you are everything else?”

“My—”

“Brother, you’ve been pining for him since before he even left. I had hoped that, with his return, you would realize the depth of your feelings but it seems you’re still chasing chambermaids around your bedroom.”

“What?”

“Haven’t we already established that I know what you were just doing?”

“Well—yes—but—how do you know it wasn’t someone else? Someone I have deep and abiding feelings for?”

Loki gives him a deeply unimpressed look and shoves a handful of clothes into his arms. “Cover yourself.” As Thor drops the blanket and reaches for the tunic, Loki continues, “Thor. You’ve been besotted with Anthony for half a millennia. Did you truly think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Hoped, maybe,” he mutters.

He sees Loki pause, puzzle over his words, and then a light of understanding dawns over his face. “Were you worried that I wouldn’t like it?” 

Thor drops back onto the bed, Loki sitting beside him. “I know it’s been difficult,” Thor says quietly, “with Sif and the Warriors Three and I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take Anthony away from you.”

“As if you could,” Loki says haughtily. He smiles and gently nudges Thor’s shoulder. “Brother, nothing would make me happier than for you and Anthony to finally admit your feelings for each other.”

“Each other?” Thor asks. He had suspected, when Anthony had come to him first, that his feelings had been reciprocated longer than he’d thought but Anthony had kissed him before he could ask and then he’d been too swept up in his joy to think to ask later.

“You must know he’s been as enamored of you as you are of him,” Loki states. “Even you couldn’t be that oblivious.”

Pure delight fills his heart and he glances toward the bathroom. The door has opened just a crack, revealing Anthony smiling sweetly at him. He makes a small shooing motion and Thor chuckles fondly. “I’m blessed,” he says, “to have such an approving brother.”

Loki’s eyes flash and he opens his mouth to protest.

“No, you can’t take it back now,” Thor says quickly. “You’ve already approved of my beloved and for that, I’m glad.”

“Why?” Loki asks curiously, eyes narrowing.

“Because Anthony has already returned and I have claimed him as my own.”

He holds out his hand and Anthony emerges from the bathroom, crossing the room in quick, light steps to settle on his lap, curling into the warmth of his arms. They watch an array of expressions cross Loki’s face: disbelief, affection, and then finally stunned outrage.

“Anthony Starkson!” Loki howls. “You came back and you didn’t tell me!”

“Ms. Potts has a low-grade fever of a hundred point one. Mr. Rhodes has a fever of a hundred and two.” 

“I feel fine,” Rhodey said. His hands were shaking, his grip strength was weak. Why was he still working? Why was Pepper still working? They were sick, they needed to rest to get better and they weren’t going to get better if they kept trying to keep busy. They were going to get worse, Pepper had already been sick for three days and Rhodey for two, if they didn’t rest-

“There,” Rhodey said to himself. Oh, good, he’d finished doing the laundry, maybe he would lay down and go to sleep for a bit. Tony stepped forward and picked up the blankets that he’d folded on his first load, ready to put them to use. Rhodey picked up a stack of pants, shifted to the edge of his seat, and eyed Tony warily.

“No,” Tony said. Were his hands tingling? Why were his hands tingling?

“Tony,” Rhodey sighed. Pepper made a vaguely annoyed and agreeing noise.

“You’re sick,” he said again. “I can put those away.”

“I can’t just sit here.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want help?” Pepper asked, looking over to him. Rhodey opened his mouth to reply, looking like he was going to say yes, and-

“Just let me take care of you! Why are you so stubborn?” Tony burst out. His spouses both paused and looked at him, startled. “God! And you call me a workaholic, really. Un-fucking-believable.” He dropped the blankets between them with a huff, then stepped back and pointed at Rhodey, who was looking at him with a mixture of alarm and amusement, and he did not appreciate it. He was not in the mood to be laughed at, not for this. “You! You have a fever of a hundred and two. You’re acting like you’re not graying out every time that you get up to get the laundry or do the dishes, and I know that you are because the last time you tried to walk through it I saw you almost collide with the kitchen counter. So sit down and stay there. I can do the dishes, I can put the laundry away.” His voice cracked.

“...yeah, okay,” Rhodey said, his amusement gone and concern evident in his expression. He sat back. “Read you loud and clear.”

Tony didn’t acknowledge his response. He turned to Pepper. She had turned the tablet off and was watching him with her head cocked to the side and eyebrows knitted together. “And you are going to work yourself into an early grave. You got sick in the first place because you’ve been working non-stop for three weeks,” he waved a hand, “thank you for that, you are a brilliant CEO and I’m so glad that you’re running SI, but you aren’t going to get better unless you take a break and rest. I know that neither of you like inactivity. I get that, I do, you’re both brilliant and I love you very much and I want you to get better.” He took a step back and crossed his arms tightly. He took a deep breath. “Please.”

“Oh, honey,” Pepper murmured.

“Tones,” Rhodey said softly, like he was talking to a spooked animal, which made Tony want to snap at him but he didn’t because he was sick, his face was ashy with exhaustion and nausea, probably, and should Tony have yelled at him? Well, he hadn’t yelled, he wouldn’t do that, but he had been speaking pretty forcefully and what if he was going to stress them both out and they’d get even more sick, he was going to make it worse and they would take longer to get better and what if-

“Hey. Hey, nope, don’t check out on us now,” Rhodey said firmly. Tony snapped back to reality, where there wasn’t just static and constant, unending regret. “Tony.” He pulled a blanket off of the stack and spread it over his lap, and Pepper did the same, still watching him with soft eyes. “Sit.” 

He blinked again.

“Tony,” Pepper murmured. “Sit. Just for a second.”

Tony sat. Rhodey turned to him and took his hands in his too-warm ones. Pepper pressed her shoulder against his back and leaned her head on the back of his shoulder. “Listen to me. I’m about to drop a truth bomb on you, okay? You ready?”

“Sorry,” Tony said, and he shook his head. 

“We’re not upset with you,” Pepper said. “We needed to hear that, and we’re going to listen,” Tony relaxed a little, relieved, “but you need to listen to us for a moment, too.”

“...okay,” he said.

Rhodey’s expression was serious, and concerned, and Tony saw understanding there, too. “Hey.” He squeezed his hands. “Out of the three of us, you have the worst immune system.” Pepper nodded against his back. “It’s bad when you get sick. You don’t bounce back easily, you always end up bedridden, and you have to be hospitalized more often than not.” He smiled wearily. “But neither I nor Pepper have reduced lung capacity like you do. Neither of us have a history of getting pneumonia or bronchitis from a cold, or even the flu. Even if it’s bad, we don’t get as sick as you do and we will get better. Okay?”

“You don’t get as sick as I do,” Tony repeated, slowly, because he hadn’t thought of that at all. Of course they didn’t. They were healthy, they could- they could breathe when they got sick. Tony couldn’t. He’d forgotten that that wasn’t normal.

Rhodey nodded. Pepper hummed in agreement and rubbed her face against his shoulder like a cat.

“We understand why you’re scared, and it’s a good reason to be,” she said, “but we’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m not scared,” he objected, more for show than anything. It was weak. Rhodey rolled his eyes. It made him feel a little better.

“You are.” Her tone was blunt. “It makes sense. We don’t fault you for it, and we understand why you’re mother-henning us-”

“I’m not-”

“You are. It’s okay, we don’t really mind it, but you can’t get yourself so worked up about this, honey.” She turned to press her chest against his back, and she circled her arms around his waist. Her forehead pressed against the back of his neck, she was warmer than she had been before this, and he made himself take a deep breath. “It’s not healthy. You’re not going to make us more sick if you sit down and tell us that you’re really worried. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice you were so upset.”

“Me too. Tell us before it gets to this point and you give yourself a minor heart attack,” Rhodey said, and his warm tone didn’t match his teasing words. He was still holding his hands. Tony didn’t consider pulling away. “Okay?”

Tony ducked his head. “Yeah, okay,” he said. 

“And you’re right.” Pepper’s voice was muffled against his back. She sounded tired. “I shouldn’t be working, it’s just gonna stress me out more. I have people who can do my job for a couple of days- you might have to do some paperwork.”

“Done,” Tony said. He felt her smile. 

“I get restless,” Rhodey said, “but you’re right, I almost passed out last time I got up.”

“Don’t do that,” Tony said, a little helplessly. “I can find something easy for you to do, or you can tell me to get you a- a puzzle or a Rubik’s cube or something.”

“A Rubik’s cube,” Rhodey repeated, a smile growing on his stupidly cute face. “Because I’m how old, again?”

“Oh, shut up, I’ll get a couple of the six-by-six ones and race you.” Rhodey’s eyes brightened with interest. Nerd. 

“Could he beat you?” Pepper asked, sounding genuinely curious. Tony paused, considering.

“Say no,” Rhodey said.

“No,” he repeated obediently. She snorted. Rhodey tilted his chin up in challenge. Tony didn’t really know why everyone thought he was the cocky bastard when Rhodey was right there. 

Tony turned away from him and he slumped against the back of the couch, still smiling, still cocky, but tired. Pepper leaned back to let him move, and then when he was also sitting with his back to the couch, draped herself over his lap. Her head rested on Rhodey’s thigh, and he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“Got any instructions for me, Mr. Stark?” She asked in a very, very poor imitation of her usual businesslike tone. Her face was fever-flushed. Tony bumped his shoulder into Rhodey’s with a hum.

“Well, Ms. Potts, I think you should take some time off,” he said, nailing his own usual I’m the boss tone, thank you very much. “I have other people who can do your job, you know.”

“‘re you replacing me, Mr. Stark?” She slurred. He huffed and rubbed at her back. He was going to get them both a cold compress, and some headache medication, because he recognized the tightness around Rhodey’s eyes and the way that Pepper pressed her temple against his thigh. He pressed his palm to the nape of her neck for a moment to test her fever- a little too warm for comfort in his opinion, and she relaxed a little bit more. Rhodey put his arm around Tony’s shoulders and leaned against him.