Living together hadn't been planned — it never could've been planned, because even if Steve understands that people can live together before marriage now and no one thinks its a big deal, he couldn't have planned on do it himself. But after that first night with Tony, it just kept happening, and just like for Tony, it was all so organic that Steve didn't have time to freak out either.
Then one day, the apartment felt like home. It felt like their home, in a way that was so beautiful that it was baffling. So when Tony repeats that it's unfair, all Steve can do is whisper a soft "I know" once more into his ear. But he doesn't take the question back. Maybe love is making him selfish, when it should be pushing him to be even more of the opposite, but Steve doesn't tell Tony that if he prefers to stay here tonight, it's alright. Because he wants Tony to come home.
He listens though, when Tony starts telling him about the doubt and Steve wishes he could tell Tony that he'll never feel like they're enemies ever again. But he can't predict the future, just like he couldn't have foreseen what happened at the hospital, and while Steve now understands now why Tony was so hurt, he still can't see a different path than the one he took. Given the information he had, Steve doesn't know how he could've made a different call.
But they also say love changes you.
Having gone through what he did with Bucky and Tony and Siberia, and now this, Steve isn't the same man as the one who hijacked a quinjet months ago. That man would simply hope that next time, the circumstances don't force his hand, and if they do, he'll accept the consequences. Because him losing Tony is better than Tony losing himself.
But now, having seen so many twists and turns of what can be both wrong and right, Steve can't help but think there must be another way. The feeling isn't so foreign, after all. For his entire life, there have always been moral boundaries that Steve has refused to cross, because he's never believed that in the pursuit of good, one should be willing to commit acts of evil. He's always believed there's another way. Was this really so different? Shouldn't he ... try to find another way?
I can't remember anything about yesterday after work.
Wait, what?
Steve pulls back for the first time since the hug began, so he can really look at Tony as he hears this. Tony remembers finishing his shift, but ... all of last night is a blank. Last night, when Steve just assumed that Tony was mad, that he wanted time away, that he didn't want to see him — when in fact, he'd been ... well, Steve doesn't know. Because he didn't come check when he'd thought to. The concern in Steve's eyes is only somewhat alleviated when Tony says that he's okay and that all he has is a headache, but the guilt has already started to plant itself in Steve's chest. But before he can grow too much of it, Tony's talking again, now about work mode and Steve doesn't even know where to begin. He thought he'd explained this already, and this time, he feels like maybe Tony is trying to push him away on purpose.
But Steve's tired too. He doesn't want to fight and he hopes he's right when he guesses that Tony's intention isn't to pick one, because it isn't lost on Steve that despite everything, Tony still hasn't said no.
"I won't need to anymore." He doesn't offer an explanation unless Tony looks at him like he needs one. If he does, Steve will repeat what he said earlier. That once Natasha admitted to ignoring the signs, things changed. He doesn't expect Tony to transform into a master assassination at a moment's notice. He's still dangerous, yes, but Steve doesn't have to guard him with every fiber of his being.
After that, if Tony doesn't say anything else — if he doesn't name any more conditions — then Steve only lets a natural pause go by before the hand that slipped down to Tony's earlier gives a little squeeze. And then a small, gentle tug. An invitation to start moving, and to start making their way back home.
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Then one day, the apartment felt like home. It felt like their home, in a way that was so beautiful that it was baffling. So when Tony repeats that it's unfair, all Steve can do is whisper a soft "I know" once more into his ear. But he doesn't take the question back. Maybe love is making him selfish, when it should be pushing him to be even more of the opposite, but Steve doesn't tell Tony that if he prefers to stay here tonight, it's alright. Because he wants Tony to come home.
He listens though, when Tony starts telling him about the doubt and Steve wishes he could tell Tony that he'll never feel like they're enemies ever again. But he can't predict the future, just like he couldn't have foreseen what happened at the hospital, and while Steve now understands now why Tony was so hurt, he still can't see a different path than the one he took. Given the information he had, Steve doesn't know how he could've made a different call.
But they also say love changes you.
Having gone through what he did with Bucky and Tony and Siberia, and now this, Steve isn't the same man as the one who hijacked a quinjet months ago. That man would simply hope that next time, the circumstances don't force his hand, and if they do, he'll accept the consequences. Because him losing Tony is better than Tony losing himself.
But now, having seen so many twists and turns of what can be both wrong and right, Steve can't help but think there must be another way. The feeling isn't so foreign, after all. For his entire life, there have always been moral boundaries that Steve has refused to cross, because he's never believed that in the pursuit of good, one should be willing to commit acts of evil. He's always believed there's another way. Was this really so different? Shouldn't he ... try to find another way?
I can't remember anything about yesterday after work.
Wait, what?
Steve pulls back for the first time since the hug began, so he can really look at Tony as he hears this. Tony remembers finishing his shift, but ... all of last night is a blank. Last night, when Steve just assumed that Tony was mad, that he wanted time away, that he didn't want to see him — when in fact, he'd been ... well, Steve doesn't know. Because he didn't come check when he'd thought to. The concern in Steve's eyes is only somewhat alleviated when Tony says that he's okay and that all he has is a headache, but the guilt has already started to plant itself in Steve's chest. But before he can grow too much of it, Tony's talking again, now about work mode and Steve doesn't even know where to begin. He thought he'd explained this already, and this time, he feels like maybe Tony is trying to push him away on purpose.
But Steve's tired too. He doesn't want to fight and he hopes he's right when he guesses that Tony's intention isn't to pick one, because it isn't lost on Steve that despite everything, Tony still hasn't said no.
"I won't need to anymore." He doesn't offer an explanation unless Tony looks at him like he needs one. If he does, Steve will repeat what he said earlier. That once Natasha admitted to ignoring the signs, things changed. He doesn't expect Tony to transform into a master assassination at a moment's notice. He's still dangerous, yes, but Steve doesn't have to guard him with every fiber of his being.
After that, if Tony doesn't say anything else — if he doesn't name any more conditions — then Steve only lets a natural pause go by before the hand that slipped down to Tony's earlier gives a little squeeze. And then a small, gentle tug. An invitation to start moving, and to start making their way back home.