Make no mistake, the way that Tony’s biting his bottom lip and raising an eyebrow as he fiddles with his tie makes Steve uncomfortable, and in a way he’s felt only once before. There’s a pounding in his chest and he just swallows, because he’s lost the ability to speak. But even if he could say something, how would Steve even answer the implied question?
Sorry Tony, I thought you were gonna kiss me right then. It’s what folks normally do when they reach for my tie. My mistake.
No way in hell is Steve going to say that. Nor is he going to explain how what he did end up saying (‘Tony, before you pull on-‘) basically implies that he would have let Tony kiss him. And that’s when the thoughts start pouring in. Thoughts that Steve had never needed to directly address, because he’s never been in this situation.
He hadn’t pushed Tony away. He hadn’t stepped back. He’d seen what he thought was coming and he’d stayed. There’s no point in rationalizing it to himself now. He’d stayed. Because as soon as he thought Tony had wanted it, he’d realized he wanted it too.
And dear God. Steve is fighting himself to form complete thoughts, because it feels like there’s an entire era of people reaching for him and trying to suffocate him so that he won’t do this, won’t think this, won’t go down this path. But then he sees the way Tony’s eyes linger on his lips, and he feels that sudden tug on his heart, and the question he’d buried so deep in his mind finally comes up for air.
Since when, he asks himself, did kissing Tony Stark become something he wanted?
Since when, he demands of himself, did he begin to want something that he’d grown up being told was absolutely and unequivocally wrong? Something that, in his childhood, was declared a mental illness by law. Something that, if he had admitted at the age of 21, would have automatically deemed Steve unfit for service, even before the army recruiter saw his endless list of medical conditions.
But then he feels the pressure of Tony’s hands on his chest, tucking in the tie and smoothing it out, and suddenly, Steve is so very conscious of everything that happens next — like his body is moving without his input and all his mind can do is watch.
So he watches, as he stares at Tony, wondering when everything changed. He watches as his lungs seem to stop working for as long as Tony’s touching him, and he’s watching still when Tony drops his hand, and Steve feels like he’s just lost something precious.
It feels surreal, as he feels his forehead furrow and his lips move, and he hears the sound of his voice, whose volume is still too quiet for his own good: “Maybe later … we can try out those dance moves you taught me. See if they’re any good.”
But it’s always something small that breaks the camel’s back — or wrestles a man out of the spell he’s fallen under. It’s in this very next moment, as he’s waiting for Tony’s response, that Steve notices how Tony hasn’t stepped back, even after he was done fixing the tie, and he can’t … oh god he can’t stop looking at Tony’s lips. And just like that. It becomes too much.
He can’t do this. Hell, he can’t be here. He can’t stand this close to Tony, because if he stays like this for much longer, he knows he’s going to betray something, and Steve doesn’t even know what that something is.
“I should go,” he says, just on the border between too quickly and just quick enough to pass as normal. “Armed Forces is- We’re working security for the night. It’s about time I go swap someone out.”
And as soon as Tony makes some type of indication that yeah, okay, please go — because Steve’s too polite when it comes to this — he’ll nod and take off, searching for any member of his team he could relieve right about now.
no subject
Make no mistake, the way that Tony’s biting his bottom lip and raising an eyebrow as he fiddles with his tie makes Steve uncomfortable, and in a way he’s felt only once before. There’s a pounding in his chest and he just swallows, because he’s lost the ability to speak. But even if he could say something, how would Steve even answer the implied question?
Sorry Tony, I thought you were gonna kiss me right then. It’s what folks normally do when they reach for my tie. My mistake.
No way in hell is Steve going to say that. Nor is he going to explain how what he did end up saying (‘Tony, before you pull on-‘) basically implies that he would have let Tony kiss him. And that’s when the thoughts start pouring in. Thoughts that Steve had never needed to directly address, because he’s never been in this situation.
He hadn’t pushed Tony away. He hadn’t stepped back. He’d seen what he thought was coming and he’d stayed. There’s no point in rationalizing it to himself now. He’d stayed. Because as soon as he thought Tony had wanted it, he’d realized he wanted it too.
And dear God. Steve is fighting himself to form complete thoughts, because it feels like there’s an entire era of people reaching for him and trying to suffocate him so that he won’t do this, won’t think this, won’t go down this path. But then he sees the way Tony’s eyes linger on his lips, and he feels that sudden tug on his heart, and the question he’d buried so deep in his mind finally comes up for air.
Since when, he asks himself, did kissing Tony Stark become something he wanted?
Since when, he demands of himself, did he begin to want something that he’d grown up being told was absolutely and unequivocally wrong? Something that, in his childhood, was declared a mental illness by law. Something that, if he had admitted at the age of 21, would have automatically deemed Steve unfit for service, even before the army recruiter saw his endless list of medical conditions.
But then he feels the pressure of Tony’s hands on his chest, tucking in the tie and smoothing it out, and suddenly, Steve is so very conscious of everything that happens next — like his body is moving without his input and all his mind can do is watch.
So he watches, as he stares at Tony, wondering when everything changed. He watches as his lungs seem to stop working for as long as Tony’s touching him, and he’s watching still when Tony drops his hand, and Steve feels like he’s just lost something precious.
It feels surreal, as he feels his forehead furrow and his lips move, and he hears the sound of his voice, whose volume is still too quiet for his own good: “Maybe later … we can try out those dance moves you taught me. See if they’re any good.”
But it’s always something small that breaks the camel’s back — or wrestles a man out of the spell he’s fallen under. It’s in this very next moment, as he’s waiting for Tony’s response, that Steve notices how Tony hasn’t stepped back, even after he was done fixing the tie, and he can’t … oh god he can’t stop looking at Tony’s lips. And just like that. It becomes too much.
He can’t do this. Hell, he can’t be here. He can’t stand this close to Tony, because if he stays like this for much longer, he knows he’s going to betray something, and Steve doesn’t even know what that something is.
“I should go,” he says, just on the border between too quickly and just quick enough to pass as normal. “Armed Forces is- We’re working security for the night. It’s about time I go swap someone out.”
And as soon as Tony makes some type of indication that yeah, okay, please go — because Steve’s too polite when it comes to this — he’ll nod and take off, searching for any member of his team he could relieve right about now.