Maybe that’s just it. Being stuck in this place has escalated things at a pace that would have never happened back home, because every day actually could be their last. Because hell, Tony’s already survived a bombing. Steve survived an assassination. Just thirty minutes ago, they were fighting two dozen men who wanted them dead.
But this time, what happened earlier in the Commissary felt manageable, because compared to the disasters that had come before, a small riot was something Steve and Tony would have been overqualified to handle back home. And yet, Tony was still injured. Even with the serum, Steve hadn’t been able to protect him.
Maybe only two or three seconds really pass in silence as they both stand there, holding each other, eyes locked, as a voice in Steve’s head reminds him of what he should be doing. He should step back. He should put his shirt on. He should make the dinner he’d planned and gotten ingredients for three night ago. He should settle Tony down with his ice pack, to make sure he doesn’t strain his broken rib any more than he already has. He should, he should, he should- But he doesn’t.
Maybe Tony saw it coming all along, Steve thinks as he leans in, his arms wrapping around Tony nearly instantly. This kiss … this kiss is hungry and filled to the brim with a purpose that Steve couldn’t have predicted.
It’s as if for the first time, he really understands that either of them could be gone tomorrow, and Steve doesn’t want to get there with the regret of having done not what they both wanted, but what they thought they ought to do.
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But this time, what happened earlier in the Commissary felt manageable, because compared to the disasters that had come before, a small riot was something Steve and Tony would have been overqualified to handle back home. And yet, Tony was still injured. Even with the serum, Steve hadn’t been able to protect him.
Maybe only two or three seconds really pass in silence as they both stand there, holding each other, eyes locked, as a voice in Steve’s head reminds him of what he should be doing. He should step back. He should put his shirt on. He should make the dinner he’d planned and gotten ingredients for three night ago. He should settle Tony down with his ice pack, to make sure he doesn’t strain his broken rib any more than he already has. He should, he should, he should- But he doesn’t.
Maybe Tony saw it coming all along, Steve thinks as he leans in, his arms wrapping around Tony nearly instantly. This kiss … this kiss is hungry and filled to the brim with a purpose that Steve couldn’t have predicted.
It’s as if for the first time, he really understands that either of them could be gone tomorrow, and Steve doesn’t want to get there with the regret of having done not what they both wanted, but what they thought they ought to do.