#notevenwinded

Knowing Tony as he did, Steve half suspected it would be more like a guest wing, but he didn’t say that out loud.  He grabbed his overnight bag – a battered old knapsack that had been in his room at Stark Tower when he moved in and looked to be US Army surplus – and slid out of the seat. He slammed the door and leaned down to speak to the driver through the window. “Thanks for the ride, Jamal. Cash all right?”

“You know it is,” Jamal said easily. He flashed Steve a grin, his breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “With the holiday, the damn machines don’t pay out for nearly a week anyway. Cash is instant.”

Steve had never had to deal with credit card machines when he’d been younger and poorer, but he remembered having to take a check to the bank and have it cleared before he could eat, so he understood perfectly. “What do I owe you?”

“Forty-two fifty, but there’s a veterans’ discount.”

“Tell you what, save it for the next fare who really needs it.” Steve pulled three fifty dollar bills out of his wallet and passed them through the window. “Keep the change, buddy. Merry Christmas.”

Jamal took the bills with a big grin. “Merry Christmas to you, too.  Thanks man, you sure?” He deliberately fanned the bills a little, like he wanted to make sure Steve hadn’t given him the extras by mistake.

“I’m sure. Thanks for coming out in the snow.” Steve hefted his bag and returned Jamal’s wave as the cab pulled away down the drive. Then he turned to view the Mansion up close.

He’d seen it in pictures and on the news, though never in person. Avengers business tended to be dealt with out of the Tower or through SHIELD, and while Tony would host the occasional charity event at his family home, he didn’t tend to spend much time there otherwise.

In person it was bigger than he’d thought, appearing to take up most, if not all, of the block. There was a stone wall around the property, taller than Steve was, topped with wrought-iron decorative bars. There had been gates, too, though they’d been open when the cab drove up. The front yard was huge, for the city, and though there was a thin layer of snow covering everything, Steve could see bushes and trees and some kind of ceramic water fountain, though there was no water at the moment. The house itself really was a mansion, at least three stories high with tall, decorative windows and what looked like a porch or balcony running the length of the top floor. The whole house was trimmed in white Christmas lights, and the trees along the drive were light up in twinkling multi-colored lights. A single candle burned in every single window that Steve could see, too steady to be flame. On the roof, a mechanical Santa was perched on top of one of the chimneys, one arm waving to the pedestrians below.  With the snow falling around it in thick flakes, it looked like something out of a movie or an advertisement.

Steve was pretty sure that back in the day he wouldn’t have even been allowed to linger on the sidewalk and admire a place like this, let alone ring the doorbell and expect to be invited inside. He felt awkward and out of place, in a very familiar way that – for once – had nothing to do with what year it was.

But living with Tony Stark over the last half year had taught him nothing if not how to adapt, so Steve slung his bag over his shoulder and pushed the doorbell.

Instead of the familiar face of Edwin Jarvis, a very pretty, very short, woman answered the door. She had her hair pulled back in a bun, and was dressed in simple shoes, slacks, and a bright red sweater with a Christmas tree on the front. The tree was decorated with sequins and pom-poms and bows and was, overall, one of the gaudiest things Steve had seen since the last time he wandered through Times Square. “Welcome to Stark Mansion, Captain Rogers. Mister Stark has been expecting you. Can I take your bag?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, caught briefly off-guard by such a petite woman offering to carry a bag for a big guy like him.

“Come right in.” She caught him staring at the sweater and her smiled curved a little wider. “Mister Stark gave the entire staff these lovely sweaters just this morning.”

“Was he very angry with you at the time?” Steve asked. He couldn’t quite resist the urge to smile, but fortunately she didn’t seem to mind.

“I won’t tell him you said that,” she said with a wink. “It’d just hurt his feelings. My name is Lainie and I’ll be here all weekend, so if you need anything at all, just ask for me. Now, come this way and I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Plural. Steve nodded a little glumly. Just as Jamal had thought.

Steve’s rooms turned out to be a fairly modest suite made up of a small sitting area, two huge closets, what was possibly a second sitting room or might be a third, even huger closet, Steve honestly wasn’t sure, and a bathroom only half the size of Steve’s Brooklyn apartment. The bedroom itself wasn’t unreasonably extravagant, though a family of six could have lived in it easily back in Steve’s day. The decorations were simple and modern and done in rich shades of blue and cream, with watercolor landscapes on the walls in tastefully expensive frames.

There were also extra blankets folded at the foot of the bed, including an electric one, a fresh sketchpad and an unopened pack of Steve’s favorite monochrome graphite pencils on the bedside table, and instead of a digital clock with bright red or yellow numbers, there was an old analog model that had to be wound by hand and had an actual bell to wake you with. Steve lifted the cover of the sketchpad and ran a finger over the crisp, fresh paper and had to smile. Tony did plenty of big, ridiculous things for his friends but it was the little things like that always made Steve’s heart ache. The little gestures that said he’d been paying attention and wanted Steve to be comfortable. Extra blankets because Steve hated to be cold, an alarm clock that wouldn’t startle him with its electronic beeping. Steve’s favorite art supplies so he could have an excuse to distance himself from the festivities if he felt overwhelmed.

Steve wondered sometimes what kind of life he’d be living if he hadn’t met Tony and the Avengers when he did. He suspected it would be sadder and lonelier than he wanted to consider.

“Mister Stark is right across the hall,” Lainie told him from her position by the door. “Colonel Rhodes and Colonel Danvers are down the hall and Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan will be staying in their rooms on the second floor. A maid will be in to freshen the room twice a day and she’ll collect any laundry you leave in the hamper. If you need anything else, there’s a housekeeping app on the television that we keep an eye on at all times. Midnight snacks, extra bedding, toiletries, anything at all.”

“What if I want a sweater?” Steve asked.

Lainie gave him a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Maybe if you’re very good, there will be one under the tree for you. Now I’ll let you get settled in. Mister Stark and his guests are in the game room on the first floor whenever you feel like joining them. Dinner is served promptly at seven tonight. Mister Stark asked me to let you know that we do not dress for dinner on Christmas Eve, so please make sure you’re comfortable.” She gave him a little nod and another smile and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Steve unpacked quickly and checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror before heading for the massive staircase that led down to the front foyer. He hesitated at the bottom, wishing briefly for a map, then decided if Tony didn’t want him poking around he’d hardly have left him to his own devices like this. He took his time looking around, looking at the extensive holiday decorations and admiring the artwork on the walls and the pieces on display. Someone had had excellent taste, in Steve’s opinion. Pepper, maybe, or Tony’s mother. Howard hadn’t had much of an eye for art as far as Steve remembered. But then it had been a long time and he’d changed in a lot of other ways.

Everything had. Including Steve.

There was a thunderously loud explosion of noise from down the hall that faded out into a rumble, only to be drowned out by laughter and yelling. Steve recognized Colonel Rhodes’ voice alongside Tony’s and a woman’s voice that he was almost certain was Carol.

He followed the shouting to a room at the back of the house that looked like someone had put a movie theatre inside a living room. There were plush looking chairs and couches arranged around a massive screen that looked like it descended from the ceiling, walls lined with framed movie posters, and shelves with what Steve assumed were collectibles of some kind – action figures maybe? He wasn’t sure if that was the right word, and calling them toys would probably get him an indignant glower from Tony, even if they looked like it.

Pepper and Happy were cuddled up together in an armchair that could easily have held at least one more person. They were both wearing casual clothes and Pepper had kicked her shoes off so she could tuck her feet up into the cushions. They were watching Jim, who appeared to be engaged in some sort of computer game on the screen involving a stick figure and a cow that was also a stick figure, and Tony and Carol who were trying to grab the controller from him. Steve didn’t recognize it as one of the ones Clint had shown him; there was no gratuitous gunfire for one.

Tony spotted him in the doorway before he could announce himself and his eyes lit up in a way that made Steve’s stomach clench a little. “Cap!” He abandoned his efforts to annoy Jim and climbed over the back of the couch. “Hey, you made it! We weren’t sure if the snow would scare you off.”

“I managed to flag down the one cab in Brooklyn willing to risk it.” The snow hadn’t been that bad when Steve had left his apartment, but it was getting heavier. “Do I even dare ask what you’ve been up to?”

“Shenanigans,” Tony said cheerfully. He was grinning and rocking up and down slightly on the balls of his feet. He was barefoot, and his hair was tousled and his eyes were bright. He looked warm and happy and Steve had to put his hands in his pockets because the urge to reach out and touch was so strong.

“Rhodey’s sucking all the fun out of this game,” Tony said. “But Carol and I are trying to fix it for him before he dies shamefully.”

“Yes,” Jim said in a voice as dry as desert sand. “That is exactly the scenario that is happening here. Hey, Cap.”

“Colonel,” Steve said. “Merry Christmas, it’s good to see you again. And you, Carol, it’s been too long.”

Carol Danvers wiggled her fingers at him in a hello. “We were all really glad to hear you’d accepted Tony’s invitation.”

Pepper and Happy echoed the sentiments and Tony looped his hand through Steve’s arm to drag him toward the couch. Steve didn’t resist and if his stomach got a little tighter when Tony dragged him down onto the couch so their knees were touching. Well.

Jim did not die shamefully, despite Carol’s and Tony’s best attempts to distract him. Tony ended up sulking against Steve’s shoulder because Jim wouldn’t take his advice. He shivered a little and Steve – feeling a little brave and more than a little fond – wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged Tony against his side. Tony took the invitation and burrowed in, his head on Steve’s shoulder.

It was loud and he had no idea what was going on in the game, and every five minutes one of them would start laughing about something that had happened before he arrived. It should have made him feel out of place, but he didn’t. Everyone was talking over each other and enjoying themselves, and Carol kept insisting that Steve agreed with her every time she disagreed with Jim. Pepper was tossing mini candy canes at Tony’s head and missing more often than not, and Tony was scooping them up and pelting them back at her. Happy met Steve’s eyes over Pepper’s head and just shook his head with a grin.

Tony was warm, and his head fit perfectly on Steve’s shoulder and his hip fit perfectly under Steve’s hand. His smile was easy and comfortable when he looked at Steve. He’d asked Steve to come, asked Steve to stay.

Tony had given him a home, clothing, food and art. He’d given Steve trust, and friendship and a loyalty so deep it sometimes felt like they’d always been like this, that they’d worked together before in another time or place.

Outside it was snowing and the sky was going dark. There was a coldness in the air that promised a storm to come.

Tony threw back his head to laugh at something Pepper said and Steve felt nothing but warm.

****

Dinner was just as casual as promised. The six of them and Jarvis ate around a table in what Tony called “the little dining room”. There was a fire roaring a few feet away, and a sidebar with bottled drinks. No servants, which Steve felt a little relieved about. 

Pepper and Tony were carrying on their food fight, pelting each other with bits of bread and the occasional carrot when they thought no one was watching. Jim and Happy were arguing about a sports game of some sort and Carol was talking to Jarvis about a television show they both liked.

“I am quite pleased you could join us, Captain,” Jarvis said after Carol was drawn into the discussion to emphatically argue that someone was a terrible coach and someone else was a terrible quarterback.

Steve almost hadn’t, to be honest. When Tony had extended the invitation to join him for Christmas, he’d hesitated. This was Tony’s family, and their Christmas celebration was a tradition for them. He’d been afraid of intruding and ruining their time together. “I was a little surprised to be invited, to be honest. I hope Tony didn’t feel pressured to include me.” Pity wouldn’t be the worst reason why Tony had chosen to invite him, but it certainly wasn’t what Steve hoped for either.

Jarvis scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Sir was quite excited by the possibility that you would be part of this year’s celebrations. I will say, just between us, that if you had taken much longer to accept I was half convinced he’d do something over-the-top to convince you.”

Steve tried to imagine what that could have been and very, very firmly did not let himself imagine anything scandalous while under Jarvis’s knowling gaze. “Let’s be honest with ourselves, Jarvis, Tony doesn’t need any encouragement to go over-the-top.”

“Quite true. Still. It means alot to him that you are here celebrating with us this year.” Jarvis glanced across the table at Tony. “Ours is a small and poorly behaved family, but we hope you feel at home here.”

“I do,” Steve said. “Thank you.”

“And remember that this invitation does not expire on the New Year, Captain. I know I speak for Sir when I say you are welcome here at any time.”

Steve glanced over at Tony, who met his gaze with a grin that Steve couldn’t help but return. “That means a lot to me, especially coming from you, Jarvis.”

“Nonsense, it’s only the truth.” Jarvis rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for Anthony since you came into his life. He is happier than he has been in a very long time. And I confess, I do sleep a bit easier knowing that a man of your calibre is watching his back.”

“Always,” Steve said in a low voice.

“I know it. Now.” Jarvis raised his voice. “Let’s get a picture. Captain, Sir, in the center here, by the fireplace. Ms Potts, Happy - yes very nice. Everyone in a little closer now.”

Tony slipped an arm around Steve’s waist and leaned in a bit. Steve wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders, as the others pressed in around them.

“Lovely, you all look very charming.” Jarvis held his phone up and took several shots. “My goodness, if I didn’t know you all I’d think you were quite respectable. Do pray I never reveal the truth.”

“Literally no one would be surprised by any of it,” Tony said. “Except about Cap, they’d think you were making it up for the scandal rags. And Pepper, no one thinks anything bad about Pepper.”

“No one dares,” Jim said cheerfully. “Jarvis, send me that photo when you’re done.”

“I have done you one better, Colonel.” Jarvis finished tapping at his phone and turned it so they could see.

It was the picture of the six of them with a caption that read “Merry Christmas from our family to all of yours” posted to a Twitter account belonging to EdwinTheGreat.

“Nice handle,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Jarvis said. “I had to veto more than two dozen of Sir’s suggestion before we struck upon the compromise.”

Steve had had to wrestle the phone away from Tony to avoid getting a Twitter account titled “CaptainWingHead” or “SexySuperSoldier” set up in his name. “I can imagine.”

“I demand dessert,” Pepper said. “Tony, if there’s no chocolate cake, I quit.”

“You always threaten to quit over dessert, I can’t take you seriously anymore,” Tony said. “Besides, Jarvis made us a trifle.”

“Is it a chocolate trifle?” Pepper asked.

“Triple chocolate, my dear,” Jarvis said.

“I take back my resignation. Tony, bring me chocolate.”

Jim nudged Steve with his shoulder. “You see what I have to put up with?”

“Yes,” Steve said dryly. “I can tell you’ve been suffering.”

“Oh dear,” Jarvis said. “I’m afraid I made a bit of a miscalculation…”

Tony plopped the trifle down in the center of the table. “It’s fine if there’s not enough, we can share.”

“No, not the dessert. The photograph. I did not intend - well it seems I may have misjudged... Oh dear.” Jarvis held out his phone again, showing the same Twitter page.

Steve scanned it quickly, not entirely sure what he was supposed to be seeing.

“How does this have almost a thousand retweets already?” Tony asked. “Holy shit, Jarvis, how many followers do you have?”

“Thirty-four,” Jarvis said. “Mostly Avengers and the occasional member of my chess club. It appears Ms. Romanoff retweeted the picture and it seem to be… well. Is “blowing up” the proper phrase to use?”

“Not when you say it so the quotation marks are audible,” Tony said. “Why is it “blowing up” anyway?”

Pepper laughed suddenly, a sputtering snicker that she quickly stifled. “Oh no. No. Tony are you reading the comments?”

“I don’t usually bother. There’s rarely anything good to be found in any internet comments section.”

“You should read these,” Pepper said. She had one hand pressed against her mouth, trying to hide a grin. “No seriously. Read them.”

Tony gave her a sideways look, which just made her grin harder, and pulled out his own phone. “Called it, best Christmas present ever, holy shit I can’t believe they did it, lots of exclamation points - why are we gay icons? Were we gay icons before this? Does having your picture taken in front of a fireplace make you a gay icon now? Quick, Jarvis, upload that old photo of Dad posing with the gun in front of the front fireplace. Maybe someone will call him a gay icon and he’ll spin right out of his grave.”

“Tony,” Steve said.

“Right, sorry.” Tony made some surreptitious motions at Jarvis that the older man soundly ignored. “Seriously, what am I missing he- I can’t believe Cap and Iron Man just came out of the closet. What. What?”

“We didn’t though?” Steve was aware that there were parts of the culture he wasn’t up to date on, but he was ninety percent positive he knew what “coming out of the closet meant” and at least seventy percent certain that he’d done no such thing.

“It’s the picture,” Jim said. “Two well-known couples posing with their arms around each other and there’s the two of you… posing with your arms around each other. I mean, if I didn’t know you weren’t dating, I might have made that assumption.”

Steve looked at the image in dismay. It did, now that Jim had put that out there, look a bit like three couples. The poses were even the same, and he and Tony were standing very close together. “Oh.” He let his eyes linger on the image of the two of them, Tony’s arm around his waist. Tony was looking at him, not the camera, and he was smiling like there wasn’t anything in the world for him outside of Steve.

It wasn’t true, of course. Just Steve seeing what he wanted to see in an otherwise meaningless image. Just like the hundreds of other people seeing what wasn’t there. Steve made himself hand the phone back to Jarvis, carefully loosening his grip on the case. He hadn’t cracked it, but it had been a close thing.

Tony looked at him, and this time his mouth was pressed into a thin line. “It’s fine, Cap. Jarvis will delete it and if we just ignore it, the whole thing will go away overnight. People have better things to do on Christmas than gossip about celebrities.”

Steve had only been in the twenty-first century for a year, but he was pretty sure Tony was wrong about that.

“It’s been retweeted by the local new stations,” Carol said. She was sitting crossed-legged in front of the fire, scrolling through her phone so fast she couldn’t possibly be reading every word. “We’re almost to five thousand retweets. Damn. How come my selfies never take off like this?”

Steve shook his head. “I think deleting it now would just be closing the barn door after the horse runs off.”

“The gay horse,” Jim said.

Tony shot him an irritated look. “It’ll be fine,” he said, so fiercely that Steve could tell he didn’t believe it himself. “It’s late, tomorrow’s a big holiday. A Kardashian will get pregnant or Brangelina will get back together and this will be old news. I promise, Cap. It’s going to turn out to be nothing.”

Steve nodded slowly, and tried not to think about what it meant that Tony was so clearly upset about this.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it either way,” Steve said. “And it’s not like this is the worst thing that they could be saying about us. Just ignore it, and if anyone asks we can set the record straight.”

“I’m going to be on the phone with public relations all day tomorrow aren’t I?” Pepper sighed. “Pass the trifle.”

****

After trifle - thick layers of chocolate custard, fudgy brownies and chocolate cream topped with chocolate chips and bits of smashed up candy canes in a dessert that would have given pre-serum Steve at least six cavities - Tony herded them all back to the game room and literally threw presents at them before flopping down on the couch with his feet in Jim’s lap.

“We agreed no presents,” Carol said. “You shit, you do this to me every year.”

“After the third year in a row it’s kind of on you,” Jim said. “Sorry, babe. I don’t make the rules.”

“Wait, so you brought presents too?”

Jim pointed to a duffel bag sitting by the fireplace. “Of course. I’m no fool. He does this every year you know.”

Carol smacked him with a pillow.

“I brought presents too,” Pepper said, bouncing up and down on the couch. “Happy, would you-?”

Steve coughed a little. “I -uh…”

“You too?” Carol said. “Come on, I thought at least Captain America would have stuck to our agreement.”

“It’s rude not to bring your host a gift,” Steve said. He didn’t quite smirk at Carol, or at least not when anyone else could see him do it. “I left them upstairs. Let me go grab my bag and we can open them together.”

“Grab the LL Bean bag sitting on our bed on your way back down, would you?” Carol asked.

Rhodey made a disbelieving sound. “Wait, you remembered?”

Carol nodded. “Of course. Every year Tony makes us promise not to exchange gifts and then every year he gives us something and every year you let me look like a jackass. This year I came prepared. With gifts for everyone but you.” She smiled sweetly and smacked him with the pillow again while Tony burst out laughing.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said. He jogged up the stairs to the third floor and grabbed a small stack of gifts out of his bag, then detoured down the hall to Carol and Jim’s room to grab the giant LL Bean shopping bag sitting at the foot of the bed. When he reached the stairs again, Tony was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase.

He offered Steve a quick, tight smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes. “Hey I just wanted to check in. Are we okay?”

“Yes?” Steve shifted his grip on Carol’s bag. “I- why wouldn’t we be?”

Tony shrugged. “I saw your face when you saw those comments people were making. I know we were laughing about it, but - we’ve all had this happen to us so many times, I think we forget how violating it can be to have the press telling lies and making up stories about who we are.”

“It’s not the same,” Steve said. “This is just a misunderstanding - people are just jumping to conclusions. This is nothing like what the paparazzi do.” Steve believed firmly in a free press, but he’d never wanted to sock a reporter in the jaw more than he did when they started in on Tony.

“It’s not that different, though.” Tony didn’t quite meet Steve’s eye and he was fidgeting with his phone. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, that’s all. If I could have kept them from going after you, I would have.”

“It’s hardly slander,” Steve said. “And it’s not your fault even if it were, you didn’t post the picture.”

“No but I-” Tony stopped himself. “I just want you to have a nice Christmas,” he said finally.

“I am,” Steve said. “I’m really glad to be here. This twitter stuff is just… noise. It’s not anything that can ruin this.”

“You say that now,” Tony said, and his voice was low and tired. “But if that story gains any traction at all, the papers will start calling and the talk show hosts will start gossiping. You’ll feel differently when you can’t walk down the street without someone shouting at you or politicians condemning you for what they think you’ve been doing. It happens to everyone around me, sooner or later.”

“Tony.” Steve set the gifts down carefully and reached out to take Tony’s shoulders. For a long moment, Tony didn’t look up at him, eyes downcast, the light from the reactor making him look pale in the darkened foyer. “You’re right. They probably will say things, but anyone who feels the need to shout at me on the street for for being gay is not someone whose opinion I could ever respect. They don’t have the power to hurt me, Tony, or the power to affect our friendship.”

“It’s not the gay rumors that will be the worst,” Tony said. He finally met Steve’s gaze, mouth turned up in a cynical smirk. “Dating a whore like me though? That’ll do some really damage to your credibility.”

“Never call yourself that again,” Steve said. The words came out harder than he’d intended them to, but still too easy to match the fury Tony’s casual disdain had kindled in him. “I don’t have the slightest scrap of respect for anyone who has ever called you that, and I won’t stand for you echoing them, understand?”

Tony shook his head. “No, Steve, you don’t get it. I have a reputation and getting mixed up with that is going to taint you by association.”

“I would be damned lucky to be associated with you,” Steve said. “You’re brave, you’re smart-”

“I’m a drunk and a slut and people used my weapons to murder children.” Tony took a step back until Steve had to either hold him in place or let go. He let go, his hands falling to his sides, awkward and empty. “I saw the look on your face,” Tony said. “I know what was going through your head, all right? I know. I’m not mad, or - hell, I don’t love my reputation, I sure as hell can’t blame you for not wanting to get painted with the same brush.”

“I don’t know what you thought you saw on my face back there, but it wasn’t what you seem to think it was.”

“Don’t lie, I know what I saw. I just wish I could have stopped it from happening-”

“I wasn’t angry, Tony, would you listen to me-”

“- you have to believe me I wouldn’t have let Jarvis post it if I’d realized the trouble it would cause. I would have just - kept my fucking hands to myself or -” Tony’s voice lowered, thick with anger and self-disgust, “-or not stood there gaping at you like some kind of idiot-”

“I was disappointed!” Steve’s voice came out louder than he’d intended, sharper and it nearly echoed in the vast foyer. He bit back his next words, not entirely sure what they were going to be even as they pressed against the inside of his lips. “Tony. I wasn’t angry. I liked what I saw in that picture. I like what everyone else thinks they’re seeing. I like it when you don’t keep your hands to yourself and I like it when you smile at me like I make you happy. I want you to smile at me like that all the time. I want to stop keeping my hands to myself. I want to post that stupid picture again, but on purpose this time and I know I can’t. That’s what you saw on my face. Not anger. Just… wishful thinking.”

Tony stared at him. He had his shoulders squared and his feet were in a fighting stance that Steve had taught him, the one you take when you were supposed to brace for a blow. His hands hovered briefly in the air between them. “What?”

“We should get back,” Steve said gently. “Everyone’s waiting to open their gifts.”

“Why can’t you?” Tony asked.

“What?”

“You said-” Tony hesitated a moment, then took a step closer. “You do make me happy, you know. Just seeing you. Being near you. Knowing you’re alive in the world. I mean - look, you didn’t know me three years ago so maybe you don’t understand but you make me happy, okay?

“Tony.”

“And you don’t have to keep your hands to yourself if you don’t want to. I’m certainly terrible at it, so I could hardly judge and anyway I like it. I like when you put your arm around my shoulders and I like it when give me that condescending pat on the back when you think you’ve won an argument and I really like the way your arms feel around me when we fly into a fight. So, you can do all of that more, if you want. Or other things entirely, if you want that.”

Steve’s heart was beating faster than it should have been outside of a firefight. He hadn’t had an asthma attack since 1943 but his chest and throat felt impossible tight. “If I want-”

Tony didn’t stop long enough for him to get the rest of the sentence out. “Because I love you. I really, really love you, like in the way all those people on the internet think I love you. I think I’ve loved you from the first fucking day and I just get pulled in deeper and deeper the better I get to know you and there’s no getting out for me now. I’m just in love with you, permanently. Completely.” Tony held his hands out to his sides. “So. You can, if you want.” He sucked in a deep breath and flashed a smile that Steve had seen a million times on camera. “Or not, in case I misheard you. We can just pretend I never said any of that, in that case.”

He paused and waited, eyes fixed on Steve with an intensity that always made the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. Steve could always feel when he had Tony’s attention, as if the sheer force of Tony’s regard was electric or - or magnetic. Now that force was aimed at him, intense, patient. Waiting for Steve to decide where they went next.

Steve had never intended to fall in love with anyone in this century. He’d left everyone and everything he’d ever loved decades behind him and he’d quietly closed the door on that want, that need. It wasn’t a conscious thought, not at first, but Steve knew there was a part of himself that had decided he couldn’t get hurt if he never took the risk of letting anyone close.

The Avengers had ended that, of course. Tony, first, and Natasha, Clint, Thor, even Hulk. There had been Jan and Hank, and now Sam. And in the next room over there was Jim and Carol, and the rest of Tony’s family who had, somewhere along the line, all become Steve’s friends and family. People to be protected and whose friendship he valued. Lifelines in the twenty-first century. Sandbags against the storm of time that Steve sometimes still felt battering at him.

He’d never, never intended to fall in love with Tony Stark. All stinging wit and sharp edges, bright lights with no substance.

But the wit could be gentled and the edges may have been sharp but Tony only wielded them in self-defense. He was bright and loud and flashy but if you took even a few minutes you could see the kindness Tony tried to hide and the generosity that he wouldn’t let you acknowledge. And beneath all of that a core as bright as the sun, determined to be better, to work harder, striving toward something instead of railing against the world.

Steve had found himself drawn to that. His first weeks out of the ice all he’d wanted to do was hit something, to scream at the unfairness of it all. He’d wanted to close his eyes and let the ice have him again rather than face a world that was cruel and cold and in some ways more alien than a completely different world would have been. But Stark had been there, so proud of what humanity had accomplished and so determined to show Steve all of it. So determined to convince Steve that there was something in the future worth living for, but never realizing that somewhere along the line he’d become the living embodiment of what he wanted Steve to love about the future.

He’d never thought about falling in love with Tony Stark, not until it was far, far too late to do anything about it. But he’d never gotten around to thinking about Tony Stark loving him back. Somehow that had never even entered the equation.

Steve remembered the way Tony had been smiling at him in the picture, the easy way Tony leaned into Steve’s side, Jarvis’s quiet insistence that Tony wanted Steve to be a part of the family gathering, and thought he really wasn’t half as smart as he’d thought he was.

Then he took a long step forward, curled one hand around the back of Tony’s neck, pressed the other against the small of his back and pulled him into a kiss.

It was soft, just a press of mouths together. Tony’s lips were softer than Steve had expected, and the bottom one a little swollen from Tony’s habit of biting at it when he was nervous. His lips parted slightly as he drew in a startled breath but Steve didn’t press for more. He brushed their mouths together, softly, and pulled back.

Tony stared up at him with eyes as bright as the reactor. He was tense beneath Steve’s hands, all coiled energy, every line and angle of his body waiting for the right moment to move. “Steve?”

“I want,” Steve said. He let himself smile a little and when Tony’s mouth curved into a matching grin, Steve couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss it again. “I have wanted for as long as I’ve known you, Tony. Known the real you. You didn’t make it easy, but it was worth it every stubborn, irritating step of the way.”

“I’m getting mixed messages,” Tony said, but he was smiling still. He lifted his hands and set them carefully on Steve’s waist, almost as if he was waiting for Steve to object. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” Steve said.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want anything you have to give me. Anything you want to say to me, anything you want to do to me.” Steve realized how that was going to sound a second before the words left his mouth but he didn’t bother editing himself. It was true anyway.

“Why, Captain.” Tony tried for a leer but failed when his voice broke on the final vowel. His eyes were too bright, and he pulled back abruptly to scrub at them roughly. “”Are you sure?” he asked suddenly. “You know what I’m like. There are so many people who love you, you could-”

“It’s very flattering that people care about me,” Steve said. “Or find me attractive at least, but I think you’re projecting a little. Outside of our team very few people actually know me. And it doesn’t matter, because you’re the only person I want to love me back.”

“I do,” Tony said thickly. “I’m not - you shouldn’t want me to, but I do.”

They could have this conversation for hours - would, at some point, need to. But it was nearing midnight on Christmas Eve and the one thing Steve had never thought he’d have was within arm’s reach.

He wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and kissed him again. And again. Tony held him back, hands gripping Steve’s waist so tightly it was like he expected a supervillain to pull Steve away any moment. He pressed in even closer, the reactor pressed against Steve’s shirt, the light going dark between them, his heartbeat pounding against Steve’s chest. He kissed Steve like he thought he’d never get to do it again.

He tasted like candy canes.

“I love you,” Steve said softly. He pressed the words against Tony’s mouth, willed him to take them in, to swallow them down and keep them.

“Awwwww,” Carol said from somewhere in the vicinity of their knees.

They both jumped and nearly bashed their skulls together. “Carol, what the hell?” Tony demanded.

She was crouched on her toes and had one hand stretched out toward the pile of gifts Steve had abandoned earlier. “Look, you went up stairs like, an hour ago and I want presents!”

Jim’s voice came from the opposite side of the staircase. “Tony wants his present too, that’s the problem.” He gave them both a stern look and shook his head. “Tones. You couldn’t wait to unwrap him for a couple more hours, huh?”

“I hate you,” Tony said. “All of you, get out of my house.”

“I have a key,” Jim said. “Anyway, Jarvis wouldn’t let you kick us out on Christmas.” He scooped up Steve’s little stack of gifts and followed Carol back to the game room. “Come on, lovebirds. Have your drama later. My girl has the right idea.”

“Your what now?” Carol asked sweetly.

“My woman,” Jim called back. “My brilliant, badass woman who got me a present even if she says she didn’t.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Steve took Tony’s hand and tugged him along toward the game room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s not keep your family waiting. Besides, I want to give you your present. And I want to see the look on Rhodey’s face when he realizes Carol really didn’t buy him anything.”

Tony licked his lips. “How do you know - “

“There are five pairs of LL Bean slippers in that bag and nothing else.” Steve grinned. “I peeked.”

“I love it when you’re naughty.” Tony tucked himself against Steve’s side. “This is - I didn’t expect this when I came out here but… this is good, right? We’re okay?”

“We’re going to be great,” Steve said.

****

The second picture got even more notes than the first and made it to the front page of CNN by breakfast. Posted to Tony’s public twitter right on the stroke of midnight, it was just Steve and Tony, sitting in a heap of torn and wadded up wrapping paper. Steve had nearly a dozen sticky bows stuck to his shirt. Tony had been aggressively decorated with tinsel and ribbons and there were what looked like a dozen candy canes hooked onto the collar of his shirt. Tony was straddling Steve’s lap, his forehead pressed to Steve’s. They were both smiling.

Notevenwinded: Look there’s Axton. He’s a bisexual soldier  me: O_O Notevenwinded: ... He’s going to be your next son isnt he me: ...

*two seconds later while playing, Axton walks past my screen*