#stevetony divorce au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ad1thi · 3 years ago

Text

this is me trying

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Steve Rogers has everything. He's married to the love of his life, he recently got promoted, and he's got an apartment in the best city in the world, New York City. He's happier than he ever thought possible, and he's finally living the life he dreamed of as a little kid.

Until he comes home to find his apartment empty, divorce papers on the dining table, and realises that he doesn't have everything. Not really. Maybe, he had nothing to start with.

major s/o to @omg-just-peachy, for being such an amazing beta and so patient with me about this fic!!

Steve Rogers prides himself on being a good agent. It hadn’t been easy, and he’d heard all the taunts and jeers as a kid, before he hit his extremely late growth spurt and got the body to match his passion, endured all the sidelong glances and rooms stuttering to a halt when he entered them. He pushed through though, never letting it get to him, keeping his head down and doing his job, and now he’s the youngest man to head his own STRIKE team. It’s a promotion he’s rightfully earned, working longer and harder than any of his peers. He’s the first through the door, and stays late enough that he’s well acquainted with the night-time janitor, Stan, making sure his paperwork is immaculate.

Steve worked his ass off for this promotion, but now all he wants to do is to go home and celebrate with the love of his life, and husband for the past six years, Tony. He stops by the closest grocery store on his way home, browsing through the alcohol section for a nice bottle of champagne. He doesn’t want something too expensive, both because he can’t afford it and because he and Tony have gotten accustomed to the taste of cheap wine and he’s not looking for either of them to bend over from the rich taste of an expensive brand.

He does want to celebrate his promotion though, so he picks out a bottle that’s not pricey enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out, but still feels like a sort of investment. On his way to check-out, he grabs a bouquet of flowers almost impulsively, already picturing Tony’s face when he opens the door to their apartment to see Steve on the other side, half shrouded by the flowers. He just knows that Tony’s lips will part in surprise, and the crinkles in his eyes will deepen with a fond expression, like he’s torn between wanting to kiss Steve for the flowers, and admonishing him for spoiling him.

It’s been a while since they’ve had some time to themselves, to just be Steve and Tony, and Steve knows that’s down to his job. Truthfully, he probably could have cut down some hours, or made himself less available. Still, he loves his job, and he knows that Tony understands them. Besides, it gives them nights like tonight, where Steve can spend his time showing Tony just how much he appreciates him.

When he’s waiting at check-out for the pimpled kid to scan his stuff, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and shoots a quick text to Tony - nothing that’ll spoil the surprise, because Steve wants to be able to tell Tony about the promotion in person - but just enough to keep Tony on his toes.

>>> On my way home, see you soon xx

Almost immediately, three dots show up, and Steve smiles, because Tony had changed Steve’s texts to their own ringtone a while back, claiming that he never once wanted to miss a text from him. The three dots hover for a couple of seconds, loading, before they disappear, just as quickly as they’d popped up. Steve’s brows furrow at that, and he’s about to shoot off another text, when the kid behind the till holds out his hand expectantly for Steve’s card, and he puts his phone away.

Tony must just be busy, and Steve isn’t more than ten minutes away from their apartment. He can always just tell him when he’s home. That is, if they even get around to much talking tonight. Steve has plans, and most of them involve doing far more interesting things with his mouth than talking.

Steve declines a plastic bag, shoving the bouquet under his arm and gripping the champagne bottle by its nose. It’s chilly out, not enough that Steve feels the need to bundle up his jacket, but a clear indication that winter’s on its way. The chill in the air makes it uncomfortable to carry the glass bottle, but Steve manages, shifting it from one hand to another sporadically until he’s in the warm confines of their apartment complex.

When they were first looking for places to live, Steve was set on getting a place on the top floor, but Tony refused, saying that he’d sooner live on his own than he would subject himself to walking up the stairs every single time they came home. They compromised, and got an apartment on the first floor, and Steve’s grown to be grateful for it, because it means that he doesn’t have to go very far to get home today.

“Tony?” he calls out, rapping his knuckles, once, and then once more when he hears no movement, “Sweetheart, you home?”

Steve waits a couple of seconds, but when there’s nothing forthcoming, he sets down the bottle of champagne and bouquet in order to pull out his keys. It must be one of those rare nights that Steve’s come home before Tony, which just means that Steve’s got a bit of time to do the apartment up, really surprise Tony when he comes home.

The lock releases with a small snick, and Steve pushes it open with his shoulder as he bends down to pick up his stuff before he lets himself in. The apartment is completely dark, which is to be expected if Tony isn’t here, but it’s only when Steve goes to hang up his coat that he realises something is wrong.

There’s nothing else hanging, which wouldn’t be odd if Tony only had one coat, but Steve knows for a fact that Tony likes to have three coats in rotation at any given time, because he hates being seen in the same clothes over and over. They’d had a massive argument about it: Steve berating Tony for mindlessly spending money, and Tony digging his feet in and explaining that he bought them at charity shops (Thrift shops, Steve had corrected, They’re called thrift shops here) so Steve could get off his fucking high horse and talk to Tony when he felt like being more reasonable.

“Tony?” Steve calls out again, because there’s no need for all of Tony’s coats to be missing, and there’s a pit growing in Steve’s stomach, “Is anyone home?”

His voice echoes around the apartment, and when Steve turns the corner, he sees a stack of papers resting on an otherwise empty dining table, and without even looking at them, Steve knows what they are.

The champagne bottle slips out of his hand, and shatters around his feet, but Steve barely notices, because he feels like his entire life has tilted and fallen apart. Without consciously realising he pulls out his phone, and dials a number he knows better than he knows his own.

“Stevie?” Bucky’s muffled voice comes through the phone, hazy and disgruntled, “Everything okay?”

Steve doesn’t say anything for several seconds, prompting Bucky to say, “Stevie?” again, clear and more focused, like he’s just sat up and holding the phone closer to his mouth.

“It’s Tony,” he gets out, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, and doesn’t get much further before Bucky asks, “What’s going on? Is he okay? Do you need me to come over?”

“He’s gone,” Steve croaks out, and then he’s falling, sight lurching as he hits the floor, like his limbs can’t support him anymore. His phone slips out of his hand and slides under the couch, out of his grasp, and he thinks he can hear Bucky still yelling through the phone, probably trying to grab his attention, but Steve can’t bring himself to move, to pick up his phone and reply because -

Because Tony’s gone.

read the rest on ao3!!

#my writing #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve x tony #steve/tony #steve rogers x tony stark #stevetony divorce AU #modern AU #im finally posting it!#i would post the entire first chapter on here but its like 5k and formatting it properly is a pain #but hopefully this snippet is enough to pique your interest!!

113 notes · View notes

sea-owl · 2 years ago

Text

So I found some superbat divorce posts where Mr. Contingency Plans is basically self sabotaging his own marriage and Clark basically goes nah. They're both sad and pining. Well my brain also read some stony post civil war divorce fics where they're also sad and pining. Now it's mixing the two, featuring childhood friends Bruce and Tony.

Tony: You're a dumbass! You and your stupid contingency plans! You weren't even married yet when you typed these!

Bruce: Excuse me?! Aren't you also divorced?

Tony: Yeah but we're not talking about my ex-husband. This is about how your husband still loves you and is fighting for you!

Bruce: Everything has an end Tony-

Tony: And that end was supposed to be death. I was there for your vows.

Bruce: *growls*Tony

Tony: *growls back* Bruce, go apology fuck your husband!

#superbat #stony #stevetony #divorce au #bruce wayne #tony stark

211 notes · View notes

sugarcoatedlies616 · 6 years ago

Text

I sometimes remember what my life was before reading the stevetony divorce au,, I vaguely remember that my sleeping schedule wasn’t so messed up and I even used to laugh at things, divorce really changes a person

#you NEED to expirience that fic #YOU NEED TO #also this issa joke #i just like to be dramatic #no i don’t remember the name of it #stevetony #stony #tony stark #bi tony stark #steve rogers #pls steve stans don’t attack me #divorce stony au

18 notes · View notes

onemuseleft · 7 years ago

Note

Hi your divorce AU just ripped my heart out, please tell me you’re gonna write a sequel in which they get back together or I might die

****

miss-ingno said: please tell me there’s a happy ending to the divorce au bc i’m sitting here fucking crying like why

****

This is mostly @musicalluna‘s fault. Sequel to the Divorce AU (not to be mistaken for the Divorce Fic.)

****

Steve’s hand tightened on his, almost painfully. “Is that - are you wearing my dogtags?”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat, then sank slowly into his stomach. “Yeah. Is that… Sorry, I didn’t even think about-” He curled the fingers of his free hand around the chain and pulled it out of his shirt. “You want them back.”

Steve didn’t answer him for a long moment, his eyes on the tags dangling from the end of the chain. Tony realized, a moment too late, that he’d put his wedding ring on the chain, the platinum band bright and shining against the stainless steel of the tags.

“No,” Steve said finally. He let go of Tony’s hand and took a step back. Then another one. “No. I don’t want them back.”

“Oh.” Tony let the tags fall to lay against his chest. He’d worn them more often than not over the last five years since Steve had given them to him that he barely noticed their weight anymore. But now they were heavy, pressing against the arc reactor, pulling on the back of his neck. “Sorry.” It felt like a slap in the face, but he wasn’t sure why. He doesn’t want anything from you anymore, not even the things that should have been his.

Tony should have been his, but Steve sure as hell didn’t want that, either.

He forced a smile on his face. “I should have remembered to pack them last night.”

“No, it’s fine. I know it made you feel special to wear them.” Steve smiled again, but it seemed cold, a little mean. A lot of Steve’s smiles had seemed like that lately. “Do whatever you want with them. They’re yours, I don’t want them back. SHIELD issued me new ones to replace those anyway.”

Tony fought back a flare of anger - that had been happening a lot lately too. But fighting over it wasn’t going to fix things. Unfortunately Tony had the feeling that whatever chance he’d had to fix this was gone before he even noticed they were broken. “Okay,” he said instead. “I guess this is it, then.”

Steve flashed him that strange, uncomfortable smile again. “Guess it is.” He held out a hand.

Tony didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want to remember an impersonal handclasp to be the final touch they share, but he also knew how damn lucky he was that Steve seemed to still want to be friends. He took Steve’s hand in his, gripped it.

“It’s been good,” Steve said. “I mean, we both knew it wouldn’t last, but at least we had some fun, right?”

Tony closed his eyes. “You should go.”

If anything, his grip on Tony’s hand tightened. “I don’t think you really want me to.”

The sudden frisson of fear Tony feels was probably unwarranted - and entirely unprecedented. He’d never been afraid of Steve before, never felt anything less than entirely safe around him, even in their darkest and hardest moments.

He was aware, all over again, how little he could do about it if Steve wanted to hurt him. It was usually a turn-on but today it just made Tony hyper aware of the fact that Steve was gripping the wrist that has the control band for the armor.

The elevator dinged.

Tony felt a little like a traitor for the rush of relief. Whatever weird tension was between him and Steve, Happy or Pepper’s presence would interrupt it.

And then the elevator door opened and Steve barreled out of it.

It was Steve, but wearing grimy SHIELD blues, and sporting what looked like a month’s worth of facial hair.

Tony drew in a sharp breath, but the other Steve spoke first. “Get the hell away from him!”

The grip on his wrist became painful. “I think you should make me.”

“What the hell-” Tony’s words cut off as Steve yanked on his arm, dragging Tony closer to him. “Remember when I said that it was time for you to leave?”

“Get your hands off him,” the other Steve said in a low voice. “Or I will rip them off.”

Steve - the Steve who had his wrist - practically growled. “I think you should come here and take him.”

“Don’t mind if we do.”

Clint’s voice came from right behind him and Tony barely had time to register it before an arrow flashed past the side of his head and embedded itself in Steve’s throat.

His blood was green.

He was yelling, he knew that much, but then the other Steve was there, dragging him away from - Christ, was that a Skrull?

“Are you okay?” Steve’s hands were everywhere, patting down his chest and dragging over his shoulders and arms. “Give me your wrist, it’s already turning black and blue.”

“Steve? What the hell-” He couldn’t look at Steve as he carefully traced his fingers over Tony’s bruised wrist, checking for fractures with a worried intensity. So instead he looked over his shoulder, where another Steve, this one dripping green blood, was slumped against the wall while Clint and Natasha closed in on him from the far end of the hallway.

“Did he hurt you?” Steve cupped Tony’s face in his. “Did he touch you?”

“Steve?”

Steve pulled him against his chest and clutched his hands into the back of Tony’s shirt. “I’m so sorry. I tried to get away faster.”

Tony could feel himself shaking. “Steve?”

Steve pressed a kiss against his temple, his beard scratchy against Tony’s skin. “Are you okay? I swear to you, I came as soon as I could.”

Tony’s heart was hammering in his chest. He slowly raised his arms to hold Steve back. He felt thinner, his ribs and spine noticeable under Tony’s hands. “How long was he pretending to be you?”

“Almost two months.” Steve sounded miserably, the words aching.

“Two months.” Tony rolled the words around in his mouth. “He was… you’ve been gone for two months?”

“Tony.” Steve’s voice almost broke on his name.

“He didn’t - he didn’t hurt me. Not - he didn’t touch me. I don’t think.” Steve hadn’t touched him aside from a few dispassionate kisses in weeks. Months. Two months. “He - we’ve been fighting.”

Steve let out a heavy sigh. “Trying to keep you at a distance. He knew you’d realize what was going on if he let you get too close.” His arms held Tony tight against his chest. “I’ve been trying to get back to you. I promise you, I came as soon as I could.”

“Was he-” Tony pulled back a little so he could look at Steve’s face. “Was he the one who filed for a divorce?”

“What?” Steve’s eyes were wide, and shocked. “No. Tony, that was not me. I would never-”

“I should have known.” Looking back the change had been sudden, inexplicable, and completely unanticipated. “You - he just - withdrew. I didn’t know what was wrong and then he told me he was leaving. The papers -” Tony laughed, tired and breathless. “I’ve been stalling signing them. Hoping he’d change his mind.”

“Throw them away. Shred them. Burn them.” Steve pressed their foreheads together. “It wasn’t me. He was just trying to keep you off your feet.”

Tony turned his head to look at the Skrull, currently facedown on the ground as Natasha snapped cuffs on his - her? their? - wrists. It had dropped the image of Steve and was now a seven-foot tall alien with green skin. His life, honestly. “I should have known. You weren’t acting right. But he threw me. It happened so suddenly and he didn’t want to see me or talk to me so we couldn’t even talk it out.”

“It wasn’t me,” Steve said again. “Tony. When have I ever walked away without a fight?”

Tony closed his eyes and huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, the lack of screaming should have been my first warning sign.” He sighed, and pulled back a little. “Tasha? You guys have this under control?”

She flashed him a thumbs up and twirled a knife over the back of her hand. “We’re good. Clint’s calling for a containment team to come haul this guy in for questioning.”

“You need a meal or ten,” Tony said. “I don’t like how thin you are. Have you been to medical? We should take you to medical.”

“Later.” Steve bent his head to kiss him, gently, just a brush of his lips over Tony’s. “Later, okay? I’ve spent the last two months separated from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”

Tony felt the last of the tension and confusion ease out of him. “Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up a little. We should talk anyway.”

“Yeah. About - the divorce. And what’s been going on for the last couple of months.” Steve’s eyes flickered toward the Skrull and his face hardened. “Swear to me he didn’t hurt you.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed now that you’re back.” Tony touched his hand to Steve’s cheek, turned his gaze back to him. “Come on. I’ll get the kitchen to send up dinner while you clean up and then you can tell me everything.”

Steve nodded, and slumped against him a little. “Stay with me.”

Tony pressed a kiss against his forehead as he pulled Steve into their home. “Steve, babe, after this you’ll never get rid of me. The next time we fight I’m just going to accuse you of being a Skrull.”

Steve laughed. “Well, if the word “divorce” ever comes out of my mouth again, I give you permission to sic SHIELD on me.”

#my fic #nightwalker writes #stevetony #stony #the divorce AU sequel that literally nobody asked for #well #one person asked #that's why this is Luna's fault #Anonymous

1K notes · View notes

darkscorpiox · 3 years ago

Text

Also on AO3 (link)

"Divorce is a special kind of pain. It's like death without a body, " is what they say when two halves of a whole heart separate.

Tony never understood when he was younger, never extended the notion of two people who gifted each other to eternity in union splitting up beyond 'Just not talking for a bit.'

He looked at it from a small perspective belonging to a small person, as if the people in question were just two good friends who couldn't decide on what game to play, hurt each other, and needed space.

His parents had done it more times than he cared to count. The frigid silences and artificial prompt politeness between the socialite power couple Howard and Maria Stark could last for two days, or two months, depending on how deep the issue picked out that time ran.

Tony sat straight as he watched the clock tick away, dutifully counting the hours that would bring Maria closer to home from whichever elicit travel affair she filled her time with while Howard closes himself into his workshop, stewing in anger and bitterness that leak out from the door he's not permitted to trespass.

He learns to measure the gravity of their squabbles, - If it's a small argument, Maria picks Germany, France, or Spain. She sends a letter stating the duration of her stay. She sends Tony well wishes, with a touch of formality for a mother, and her name is elegantly plastered on the bottom in cursive.

When Howard fucks up, she picked China, Britain, or Italy, and she disappeared from the earth until she emerged at her like. Howard is Howard, - the relationship between him and his son was too cold for Tony to tell how his father was like without the disdain gleaming in his eyes, but the liquor cabinet always needed at least a daily refill after a spectacular drama.

He looks back at those moments and realizes, with a shade of pity coated in something more sour, mellow but active, that divorce was never an option for them, the cycle of co-dependency and maintaining legacy had to be kept no matter how demanding that task was.

He can't bring himself to be angry when he feels so bad for them. All that money, and they couldn't buy a second of peace.

It doesn't take long for him to realize his parents don't love each other.

Tony was young, but he was never a child. He was naive, gullible, innocent, - but he was awake. While he didn't clearly understand what love was, he looked at the unhappy frowns on the miserable faces of the pair and thought: 'If that's how love looks like I want no part in it.'

He doesn't love people for more than one night, - A full week if their company was good enough to distract him from the rich golden color of his whiskey that gradually tastes bitter, and more bitter every time. It's not love, he knows, - He keeps that special for his family. But the kind of feeling he has with strangers, with nobody's with a name, resembles what he knows of love too much for him to change meaning.

He won't know how "love" feels like. He refuses to be the caged bird his mother was, to take form in the monster Howard let himself become.

Then, life gives him Steve.

He nests into Tony's life like a storm with skin, hair kissed by sunshine and eyes filled with an ocean that the brunette longs to sink into. He has a boyish charm to him, an old soul that swoops Tony off his feet. It makes him want to slow down, even if he belongs to the future, to activity, to progress. He wants to sit and listen to the stories Steve has, told in a Brooklyn swird that gives character to every word.

Steve looks at him like Rhodey told him all people should look at him. 'Like they can't see the status, or the money, or the power. Like they just see Tony, and nothing more. Because Tony will always be enough. ' Steve looks at him like he hangs the moon for him.

Tony never stood a chance. He looked at Steve, and thinks: "Oh, shit. He's It for me."

He just knows that this one, this Captain, decorated to the teeth, hiding in awkwardness at this petty mingling, social climbing Gala, lowering himself at the bar because he didn't know anybody, was made for him. And if Steve clings to Tony the whole night, he agrees with the parallel drawing out on his part.

He doesn't leave Tony's side, arm snug and comfortable around his middle like they've known each other for longer than time itself, and Tony loves it more than he has the courage to say.

Steve looks at him when the epilogue of the night strikes, too soon for either of their likings. He's tall, broad-shouldered, strong but has the softest eyes in the world. It hurts Tony to arch his neck to stare, but he doesn't want to miss a thing. "I've... I didn't laugh like that since I was in tour. You made my night, Tony."

"It's nothing, -" Because it really is. Considering the sins to his name, the least he can do to atone some mistakes is make as much people as happy as he can. And Happy is a great look on Steve.

He does learn one thing: When Steve says something, it stays how Steve says it. "No, its everything, Tony. I didn't smile once since coming home, " he croaks, like the confession pains him, and Tony aches alongside him. "Everyone is worried about me, saying that, that I seem upset, or sad, or just, never happy anymore, but how else am I supposed to feel?"

"You can't let others tell you how you feel, " Tony soothes, without thinking, a hand softly brushing against Steve's cheek. A frisson zaps through him at the feeling of the soldier's stubble spiking his skin. Steve leans into his touch like it's the most normal thing in the world. Tony's heart grows. "It's not even in your control, so why should it be in theirs? " He understands how Steve feels. More than the world would care to listen.

"Exactly. So, if it's not too much trouble, " his shyness compliments Tony's smitten. "Would you mind making me smile again?"

Tony is, utterly, indubitably, irrevocably, without a shade of doubt, fucked.

He smiles anyway. "You know, soldier, I think I could pull some strings."

---

Their love is like rain in June. It's mellow and distractingly peaceful, makes their worry and everything that ever went wrong scarce away. They can breathe around each other even when they feel like drowning. For once, Tony feels like it'll be okay.

But Life decides to do what it always does when Tony finds something good. It takes, and it takes, until there's nothing.

Steve tells him about Bucky. About the fallen brother that vanished in the mission that stole everything for Steve. "Only one soldier fell off that train, but two died that day, " God, Tony is so worried when Steve talks like that. "It should've been me. I wanted it to be me."

Tony listens and he pictures Rhodey falling. Steve loved Bucky in ways he couldn't even hope to understand.

It turns out, Death is not something so permanent after all.

It's a lovely night for them when Steve gets that call. He's wrapped around Tony and holds him in his arms as if he'd rather go to war again than let him go and Tony's heart never beat so loud for anyone. He would have never let Steve answer if he knew that phone call was the beginning of their end.

Bucky's alive again, is reborn from snow and war and ashes. Broken, but alive. Held captive by terrorists and is unmade, undid, but still alive. Everything around Steve is lost after that.

Tong gives him space and resources, help, support, he gives everything to Steve like on their wedding day. He gives him his care and gentle hands and soft words and love with a heartbeat. And Steve is just... Too preoccupied looking at Bucky to notice. Tony feels like a selfish bastard for wanting his soldier to look at HIM instead of coddling his friend at every moment notice.

He wants Steve to stop suffocating Bucky when he already looks like he's just inhaling instead of breathing.

He wants his husband back.

That's why he deserves what's coming to him. That's his punishment.

They drift apart slowly, as most terrible pains start.

Steve starts spending more and more time around the mental help facility Bucky asked to be enlisted into after his hasty return that had everyone clutching at their pearls. He wants to do it alone, Tony figures easily, starves for a journey he wants to walk himself, for the kind of autonomy only a man who lost it for too long craves.

His bitterness aside, Tony marvels at how similar they are. Maybe In another life, he and Barnes would've made a handsome pair of kindred souls.

Steve doesn't agree. He looks sickened, struck even, at Tony for having the Gall to suggest maybe Barnes would be more responsive if he talked with someone who had mirroring experiences. "God, Tony, you don't... You're not a soldier. You're just a man. You've been through pain, sure, but not like Bucky. No one went through what he did. I'm honestly speechless you ever thought you could compare."

Steve says that, it's why it hurts so bad. The man who swore he'd walk back into the hellfire of war just to find the people who hurt Tony and tear them apart.

The man who couldn't be moved by anything. No nightmare, no night terror, no panic attack, no argument. Nothing convinced Steve to leave. He stayed through it all.

The man who cried relentlessly when Rhodey walked Tony down the alter because 'He couldn't believe how lucky he was to marry someone so beautiful.'

The man who hasn't written Tony a love letter every morning like he used to do in over a year.

The man who spent more time sleeping in hospital rooms than in their bed.

The man who used to not go even one day without saying "I love you". Tony can't even remember the last time this sentence was spoken between them unless he said it first.

The man who agreed to couple therapy, then acted like it rained the next day.

Tony would will himself to shove this under the rug. To put a blind eye to it, to make it work, to ignore Rhodey's disapproval and Pepper's warm worry, to push away the pain blossoming in his chest, threatening to overspill.

But this man adopted a child with him.

---

"That one" Steve points to a small boy, thin but sturdy-looking even in the hand me downs from the orphanage, short limbs supporting a mess of brown hair that looks impossibly soft. His eyes are big and kind. Tony wants to take him home and feed him. "That one's ours."

His name is Peter, and he got into a fight with older kids when they wanted to stomp on ladybugs. He pushes back, but not unkindly. He's no bully. Instead, he takes the time to teach them why disrespecting and hurting nature is wrong, then takes their hands into his own, playing with the tiny creatures for hours.

Tony falls in love immediately. "Let's bring him home, Cap."

---

He can't do it. Tony can't look into Peter's adoring eyes, wide and brown that feel more like a mirror than anything, and see the fear he had for Howard, or the sadness for Maria. Tony can't handle looking at the love of his life and see another him.

Steve is Peter's role model. His knight in shining armor, his protector, everywhere he goes he sings praise to anyone who cares to listen. About his fearless father, his heroic antics that seem so tall for him. "My daddy's a superhero!" Tony doesn't have the heart to take that away.

And Tony loves Steve too much to see him become Howard.

So when Steve misses their son's 5th birthday party because he had more pressing business in D.C, Tony realizes bitterly, there's no saving this. People labeled him as a mechanic, a futurist, but he feels unworthy of both when he couldn't fix or foresee this.

There's no coming back from this.

Natasha doesn't voice it, but she doesn't need to. She tucks her phone away after a third failed attempt to coax, threaten, and guilt Steve into joining them, with muted movements, and Tony can tell she agrees.

Tony's grin is too wide when he looks down at Peter when he drags him off to paint his face, unaware of his father's turmoil. He laughs. He smiles. He celebrates. He has a nice day with his family.

He pulls Pepper aside and asks her to prepare his lawyers in the same breath.

This is why Tony knew love wasn't made for him.

---

Tony's always been good at hurting himself. The more pain he inflicts on himself, the less it'll hurt when someone else does it. So he unpacks the stash of letters he kept locked away in a seif, because they're prized to him, more than any sleek car or company, and reads them before he burns the bridge.

They feel like warm kisses and goodbyes.

'Left for a grocery jog, ran out of coffee. It's supposed to be cold, so don't you even think about leaving the house without a jacket! I'll know. Take care of yourself, even when I'm not there. '

' I love waking up next to you every morning. I love how you hide from the sun in my chest. I love how grumpy you are when Pepper calls for updates and all you do is cuddle me and whine. I love your messy bed hair and how you fall asleep in the shower.

'I never cared for jewelry before but seeing my ring around your finger never gets old. I still can't believe you said yes, but I'm glad you did. You deserve more, but you settled for someone like me. I can't believe it when you say no one would want you forever, I hate that someone made you think like that, that they let you go, but their biggest mistake is my biggest win. Jokes on them.'

'I can't imagine my life without you. Its all radio silence and broken static. Like an artist with a blank canvas and grey paint. You're the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and the fact that I have you means there really is someone up there looking our for me. I'm never letting you go. I love you, I love you, I love you, '

Tony stains the paper with tears as he listens to the song of heartbreak in his chest.

---

"Nat, " Tony pleads, choosing not to look at the tremor in his hands as he neats the papers he wants to see burn. "There's no need for that, come on. You know I love you, but I'm a big boy. I don't need you to hold my hand for this."

Natasha shrugs. "Indulge me."

"He wouldn't do anything to me."

"I thought there were lots of things he wouldn't do. Like stop loving you, for one, " she doesn't mean to be a jab, but Tony strokes his right arm and lets the hurt wash off. He sometimes forgets how blunt and terrifying Pepper's wife is capable of being. "Being paranoid is worth being safe."

They find Steve in the kitchen, sitting stiff and unfamiliar as if he didn't design the place himself. Tony swallows down the pressure in his throat and forces his eyes to stay dry. He wants to rest his hands on Steve's shoulders and pepper the lines of laughter on his flushed face with kisses.

But they're behind that now.

Steve raises his eyes to look at him. He's tired, run-down, missing the spark Tony marked as one of his favorite traits of the blonde. The life wasted from them, telling Tony that he's surviving, but not living.

Tony looks at him back and his eyes say, 'Me too.'

Steve's mouth twists into an imitation of a smile, tries his luck at mimicking something of the reassurance and ease variety, to hide his emotions with a mask of cracked peace Tony undressed a million times, just as Steve undressed his. He's always been good at reading the man. Or, was.

Steve's eyes fall on the documents Tony's holding with his naked hands, no ring in sight, and Tony watches something die in him.

The room drowns in silence for a while.

Natasha stands as a loyal shadow at his side, silent but sharp, hands folded in front of her crotch like a guard dog waiting to pounce. There's a forced calm into her breathing that puts him even more on edge.

Papers brush smoothly above the marble surface, ear piercing to him. Red hot blazing into white noise. It's the most terrible sound he's ever heard. He prefers his breathless, agonized screams in Afghanistan to this.

Steve recoils away, standing up suddenly and shakily, as if the documents are bombs about to kill him anytime now.

He turns his head, refusing to look at them. Refuses to accept they're real.

"Throw those away, Tony, " he says, voice edged with the kind of suffering that would bring Tony to his knees on other circumstances."Get them the hell away from me and never bring them up again, you hear me? I'm serious.''

Carefully, Natasha chimes in, tone mild and neutral. " Steve. Tony would like to speak with you about something, alright? Let's sit down, and talk like grown-ups, -"

"Where's your ring!?" Steve shouts, tiptoeing at the border of desperate and hysteric. Tony wants back into the cave, wants the water to take him away from all of this. It's hard to kill something that's already dead. "What did you do with it!? Why aren't you wearing it!? You PROMISED me, you promised you'd never take it off you JERK, you lying -"

"And you promised to love me until the day we die, but by the looks of it we both could use a lesson in honesty, " Tony cuts icily, colder than colder. His words are resigned, hollow, at the brim of mechanical. He thinks all the people who say Starks are more machine than men had a point. "I'm the fuck up in this relationship. What's your excuse?"

He thought he'd feel vindication watching Steve taste a fraction of his sorrow, that his destroyed look would make something in Tony retaliate. It does nothing. Tony loves him stronger, fiercer, and there's no win here for anyone.

His mouth tastes like ashes.

He just wants to stop, to sink in his bed and swim in ratty hoodies drenched in cheap but sweet cologne, smudged with paint of all shades, and feel Steve's arms shield him from the world.

He wonders if it'll keep Steve up at night, how it never occurred to him that the danger he wanted to defend Tony from might have his face.

"I'll do better. Tony please," Steve begs him, and Tony wonders if the situation is so low a man with his nature would resort to that. He's shaken by big hands engulfing his own for exactly a moment before Natasha intervenes, pushing the blonde away with a hint of regret. Steve recovers, looks right through her at Tony who wants to wipe his tears away. "I'll do better, I'll- I'll spend less time with Bucky if you want, -"

"Bucky isn't the problem. It's not about HIM, it was never about him, this is US, Steve. We, our marriage, our family, its been here longer than Bucky. I never wanted you to - to erase him from your life, I just wanted my husband. Peter wanted his daddy. Bucky could've been apart of that, but you just, you just pushed us aside,-"

"I won't do that anymore. I, - Do you want me to be at home more often? I can, sweetheart, I can do that no problem. I can be at home, I can make time for dates and-and for activities, I can take Peter to the park and play ball, - Do you remember that? How we used to play until he fell asleep? I don't mind, its no problem, -"

Something in Tony snaps.

"WE'RE NOT YOUR FUCKING CHORES," His voice is more roar than man, ragged, tight, pushed to the last limit. The garden of silent pain, fury, rage, and fear he's been harboring finally blossomed into something that seemed to shake the world. His body shudders. "We're not some,- some pestering tasks that you have to save your precious time to complete! Some fucking pets other people have to force you to care of, or some dirty laundry you decide to wear whenever you feel like washing! We're your damn FAMILY,- " A sob hitches his anger, and by the broken look on Steve's face, it's worse than any rage.

He narrows his eyes in disbelief, as if Steve was some stranger and not someone he gave years of his life to. A laugh is pushed out of his chest, choked, long, and terrible. "I would've ended this sooner if, - God, if I knew how much of a burden we became for you."

"Tony, Tony don't say that, " Steve's face is blotched red, painted in punishing torment. "I love you and Peter more than anything in this life. You're mine, both of you, how can you think I don't love you? I, -"

"Just love Bucky more, " Tony finishes, note flat, accepting, rehearsed. His voice feels as hollow as his chest when Steve flinches. "I'm just... I'm so tired. Steve,I'm tired, and- I can't do it anymore. My son, my baby is not going to be a burden on anybody. I can put up with a lot of shit, but Peter is my limit. I can't and I won't put anyone above him. Not even you."

Horror shines bright and clear on the blue eyes Tony loves so much. He spots Steve's finger tremble at his sides, notices the hesitant movement of his Addams apple.

Natasha was wrong. It's a rare occurrence, but it happened.

Steve never stopped loving him.

It makes signing the papers so much harder.

---

Steve lost Bucky to ice, snow, and time. Tony loses Steve to fire, anger, and distance.

---

Pepper is surprised when she hears Steve ended up signing willingly.

She doesn't want to ruin the calm air that finally settled over the emotion packed atmosphere surrounding the living room, currently stashed with carton boxes filled with Steve's stuff, ready to be delivered tomorrow as Tony wanted, but it's a needed talk.

"What did you say to convince him?" She asks, not demanding an answer but clearly expecting one. "I'd just assume Nat had him in an arm lock until he agreed, but, in all honesty, Steve would probably lose an arm than do what people tell him to. Seriously, I've seen anarchists with more respect for authority than this guy."

Tony laughs, too loving and too fond for this predicament. "I said you'd drag his ass through every courtroom in America and drain him of everything he's worth?"

"Mmm. Try again. I mean, that's a Sunday for me, but he's already heard that talk before." Giggles are shared between the pair on the couch, snuggled under fuzzy blankets with wine glasses that clink slightly. Pepper's face relaxes into something sympathetic, earnest. "Was it something Peter related?"

"No, " he shakes his head. It never crossed his mind once, no matter how hurt he was. It felt too much like what his father would do. " Peter is his son, too. No matter what happens between us. There's no changing that. "

"No one would blame you if it came down to that, you know that, right?"

He hums. Pepper waits.

"I asked him to let me say goodbye to my husband instead of forcing me to stay with Howard."

A sharp intake of breath settles something cold beneath Tony's skin. He closes his eyes, and accepts the wine Pepper pours in his cup, neither commenting on how it spills over the rim.

---

Talking to Peter is the hardest part.

He doesn't understand why suddenly there's only two people there instead of three, why he isn't woken up by two pairs of arms tickling him and kissing his sleepy eyelids every morning, why Tony's laughter isn't echoing through the house as Steve spins and twists him around in the living room dance session they had at least once a week.

Why, apparently, Steve now has a permanent residence in DC and can only see him twice a week as their legal agreement states.

Why he has to live in two different places and split his playtime.

Why Tony bought a new apartment and they had to move away, stretching the distance between them and Steve.

"Is Papa comin' home today?" A hand squeezes Tony's heart painfully tight at the small question. He looks down at his son, smaller than usual and playing with his fingers at his feet. His frail shoulder raise, housing an anxious breath as he awaits an answer.

Tony takes his tiny hand in his own, leaning down to press kisses on the back of his son's palm, apology on his lips. "Yeah, baby. He has to come and pick up his stuff. Maybe you can play a little when he arrives! I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. "

Steve sends Sam to pick up his things and Tony feels guilt bite at him for hissing 'coward' in his mind.

Peter is excited to see his uncle Sam but the disappointment when he hears a truck coming instead of the deep rumble of a motorcycle engine doesn't wash off. He soldiers on, smiles for Sam because as little as he is, he's careful with people and their emotions. His goodness is organic. He takes after Steve like that.

Sam's always been frustratingly talented at deciphering his thoughts, even when his face is emotionless. It's one of the many reasons why Tony thinks him and Rhodey match so well. "He said he's really sorry he couldn't come, but... Okay, his excuse is just sad, because I doubt you'd believe he'd rather attend a Zoomba class than see you and Peter. Truth is, he's scared."

"Of facing me?"

"Of hurting you."

"Yeah, well, he's already got that job done on the to do list, " Tony huffs, petty and aware. He tosses Peter his baseball that lands in the backyard, gently nudging him away from the conversation. They watch the ball of energy squeal in delight as he runs to fetch it, tension momentarily on hold. "Sorry. You don't need my shit. Let's just load this and be done with it."

Sam huffs. "Man, I've been involved with your shit for a while. Appreciate the feeling but it's a bit late for that. Trust me, me and Rhodey have in length discussions about it. I'm neck-deep in white boy drama, but well, sacrifices of the job. Not much you can do."

He's playful, Tony knows this, in the corner of his brain that isn't raided by anxiety, yet fear claws at him, sharp and cruel and unexpected. Coldness spreads inside him like wildfire, almost matching the thoughts racing in his mind. Sam and Rhodey were talking? Were they arguing? Had Tony harmed Rhodey's relationship as if he didn't wreck his own enough?

"Talk?" Tony rasps, pushes the words out of his constricted throat that seems to close more and more, synchronizing with his lungs. Sam's wide, concerned eyes tells him the surface looked as bad as the inside."You... You and Rhodey, you guys- Bad talk? You, you fought about it?"

His mind torments him by showcasing Rhodey yelling in Sam's face and Sam yelling back, both standing their ground like two soldiers on a mission and defending their friends like avenging angels. Rhodey is more brother than friend, he'd take his side, like the devoted friend he always proved himself to be, but he watches with a cut breath as Rhodey locks himself in his room and weeps.

Rhodey sharing his fate is Tony's own horror movie.

"...ony! Tony, deep breaths, come on, " gentle hands guide him away from the void his own psyche trapped him into, speaking in a low voice that plucks him back up little by little. "Come on, in and out. Focus on my voice, that's good. Listen to me, Rhodey and I did not and will not fight about this. We're fine, Tony, promise! We agreed, no side pickers. This isn't war, and we won't get into some life or death fight for your and/or Steve's honor, " he tries for a little grin. ''I mean, I'm not supposed to tell you, but we don't like you guys that much."

Tony laughs, at once, a pathetically small sound, but he's grounded enough to laugh. He basks in the lack of sound around them, like the silence of an after battle, suffocating, but free.

The quiet hangs in the air as they load the truck, too, not oppressing, but welcomed, with a touch of comfort that burns just right. When the last box is secured and road-ready, him and Sam stay just a bit on the porch to stare at the house. Because that's what it is, isn't?

'Is papa comin' home?'

There is no home. Not if Steve's missing.

"Steve said you can keep those, if you want," that sentence made Tony hunch his shoulders, releasing that bitter aftertaste in his mouth again, blending with something sweet, and igniting the warmth that pierced as deep as his very marrow. "Nothing he loves or wants back is in those boxes."

Yes, Tony wants to scream. I want to keep the sketchbooks he has for me. I want to keep the photo albums. I want to keep the paint, the charcoal, the brushes. I want to keep the stuffed animals he won me at the fairs. I want to keep his clothes. I want to keep the dances in the living room. I want to keep his love, attention, care, worry, sadness, anger, grief. I want to keep my husband.

Instead, Tony reaches for his back pocket, and squeezes his ring. It burns in his palm, almost begging him to put it back in it's place, or on his finger, where it fitted like it always belonged. His being feels it, as if connected, and he decides to even the odds in the cowardice department.

Sam holds his breath as Tony hands him the ring, with hesitance, with no indication he wants to. "You sure about this?" It's a careful question, painfully gentle, far softer than Tony deserves.

No. Not by a long shot. "Yeah, " he mutters, almost lost in the air. "It's not mine anymore."

Sam curls his hand around the ring, pockets it, and Tony wrestles with the urge to ask for it back. His eyes are trained to the floor, on his shoes, the fine leather ones Steve bought for him on their anniversary, he realizes.

He watches droplets of water splash and dissolve into the concrete. It's raining, he figures, he should take Peter inside or he'll catch a cold. He looks up to watch the dark clouds, and the senine blue above mocks him.

"It's okay, " Rhodey picked a good one, Tony thinks, as Sam covers his crying form away from Peter's eyes. "It's okay, Tony. Just... Let it out. You earned this."

"I tried, " he sobs in Sam's neck, sobs his demise his failure, his bottled cocktail of emotions that waited to implode. "I tried, Sam, I tried so hard, I swear I did."

"We know you did, Tony. We all know."

---

Peter wants to meet Bucky one day.

"Papa used to talk about him all the time, " He says, oblivious to how vexed Tony is hearing that. He apprehends himself, reproaching that he should be over it already. "He sounds pretty cool! I want to see his Terminator arm!"

"It's a Tin Man or Robocop arm, at best, " He smirks at the pout Peter throws his way, smoothing it out with his thumb. "And he's in a hospital. You and I hate hospitals, remember?"

Peter whines and makes his eyes larger, pitifully glassy and sad, just the way to wrap Tony around his little finger. "Daddyyyy, pleeeease!" He hooks his fingers around his arm, hugging it close to his chest and his lower lip trembles.

He imagines Steve behind him, smothering a laugh in his shoulder, egging Peter on like two conspirational buddies. He melts, pushing the rush of yearning back, and knows it's a battle lost. Peter is too lovable, too determined, too bright eyed.

He's morbidly curious, in a way, to see what was so special about Bucky that it made Steve want to trade that.

---

Bucky and Peter hit it off in a heartbeat.

The facility hosting Bucky is uncomfortably pristine, from door corner to ceiling. Everything is tailored and arranged with ridiculous precision, clinical, professional, boring, and detached, as most medical spaces are. His workshop dances circles around it in the personality field, and he tells Bucky as such.

He laughs at him. "That's an interesting way to say you're a chronic untidy mess."

'Chronic untidy hot mess, " Tony corrects, hating how easily he falls into conversation with him. He tells himself it's merely a distraction from the stomach twisting smell of medicine, stingy and sharp smothering the air. "How offensive. I demand a trial by combat. Peter, make him pay in blood!"

Peter turns to Bucky, unblinking. "Your hair's greasy."

A theatrical gasps spreads in the room from the blue eyed brunette. Tony beams, kissing Peter's cheek. "That's my boy. I'm sure Bucky's bleeding a lot on the inside."

"Yeah. You know, where blood usually is, " Bucky snarks, heatless, propping Peter off from the spot on his leg and putting him on the ground . "Why don't you go ask nurse Joy to give you some magnets for the arm? Your father and I gotta talk adult business."

"Uncle Clint says adult business is just gossip for grown ups. " Peter retorts, smirk on his lips, half raising on the edges of his mouth. He got the smugness from him, that much Tony will admit. Bucky huffs a laugh that mirror Tony's own and waits for Peter to be out of the hearing range to say his next words.

"I owe you an apology."

Tony blinks, hastily, and speaks before he can even register what he's saying. "No, you don't. Drop it." It comes off razor sharp, yet Bucky must be used to worse, because he doesn't falter.

"I ruined your marriage. There's no forgiving that, but I DO regret it and you'll damn well listen to what I have to say."

"Look, I appreciate it. I do. I'm not... Mad at you. You're just in the crossfire of this clusterfuck. There's no forgiving because there's nothing to forgive, " he murmurs under his breath, words quiet, but sincere, he realizes. "My failure is my own to carry. "

"Stark, relationships need more than one person. Stevie ain't exactly blameless in this whole thing, - Far from it, trust me, I let him know. He got the scolding of the damn lifetime, because he threw away a damn good thing. He made a home for himself and then demolished it. You didn't hand him the sledgehammer, he picked it up on his own dumb self."

"You know, your philosophy lesson would impact me better with wizard lingo. Throw in a riddle or a prophecy and I might bite. " Receiving a blank stare to his quip, Tony sighed, eyes downcast.

"Look. I called it off, alright? I lit up the matches, I burned down the bridge, and I watched it turn to ash. But it was meant to happen, one way or another. We were just too different. Guys like me break the world apart. Men like Steve put it back together. He'll move forward. Like he always does."

Bucky's reply is instant. "No, no he won't, " it's said with such conviction, with such a finality, that it has Tony freezing. "He'll never move on. Not from this. I've never seen him like that for anybody, hell, never seen ANYONE like that. You and him? That's a forever kind of deal. You don't need a ring and name change for that to last. You don't have a choice."

Tony swallows, slowly, unsure. "So what? We just keep path crossing like fate has us tied together, in each other 's range but standing on parallel lines, never meant to cross? This isn't a fairytale, Barnes. It's real life. And even if it wasn't, that's still far from fair."

"It is real life. Which means it ain't fair, Stark. "

Tony takes Peter home, cuddles him closely as if he might disappear, and eyes the empty area around the right side of the bed with a lonely glint that burns in the darkness.

---

The first time Tony meets Steve after the divorce, it's for Natasha's birthday party.

Time jumps from slow to fast, alters between stagnation and overwhelming in the first 6 months that pass after the finalization of their parting. Some days are agonizingly slow. As if the world wants him to stomach every second, consume every minute, where Steve is not with him, isn't his anymore, and choke on the pain that tastes just as sharply as the first time.

And in some, time goes by in blink record, not keen on giving Tony the courtesy of healing, of moving on, of according him the patience or kindness in adapting his feelings to his pace, to accommodate to the arrangement it dragged him in.

Concern crawls inside him regardless of how many times he buries it, makes a tangly nest right in his chest, and makes no effort to move. He doesn't blame Steve for not wanting to meet him, to look at him, to give him the chance of staring into the bright, baby blue eyes that hold everything beautiful in the world.

Tony's seen the wonders of the world, all 8 them, and they all pale put next to Steve.

He feels seething, scalding guilt showering him for thinking that. Because Steve is not his to worry over, not his to call wonderful, not his to care for. Not anymore. He repeats that like a mantra against his eardrum when Natasha asks him if it's fine if she invites him to her party, too.

It's the perfect excuse to see how he's doing, but Tony elects to ignore that and remind Natasha grown-ass people don't ask other grown-ass people for permission on what to do. "Do I look like Pepper to you? No? Then why would I order you around?"

A discreet smile reaches Natasha's features, exhibiting confidence but betraying relief. She loves them both, Tony knows, and wants her friends first, not the fallen lovers. "Just wanted to know if I should hide the sharp knives or prepare some spare sheets."

His face heats ferociously, climbing all the way to the tips of his ears, and all the embarrassment in the world is worth listening to Natasha laugh. Something sharp-edged inside of him brittles at the prospect of seeing Steve, thought, and he holds his tongue from saying something of that nature won't happen.

In the company of his solitude and shame, Tony wonders later, is he afraid of seeing Steve again because he fears the blonde is not doing okay, or because he is?

Later on, he sees Steve stand in flash before him, chatting with some faceless figures, hair longer than last time and flattened slightly at the nape, sporting a beard that framed his gorgeous face perfectly. The impeccable balance between scruffy and well-groomed. Tony itched to run his fingers against it.

"It's the divorce beard, " Clint muses, elbow jolting Tony in the side to show the humor. "Give him a few more weeks, and you'll see him shopping from the Hobo shop. All wrinkled shirts and ketchup stained clothes or something. Men are useless without their wives.'' He winks in Tony's way, but Tony is too entranced by Steve to acknowledge it.

His fists are bruised, Tony notes with a wince as he gets drunk on Steve's form with a studious gaze, creamy skin battered and laced in a cluster of dark purple, crimson, and small patches of yellow shaping his knucklebones.

A trail of question rests blistering on his tongue. 'What happened? Who did that? Who were you fighting? Why? Are you okay? Did you win?' But he closes his eyes and bites his tongue, knowing these questions don't belong to him anymore.

He gave up his rights to that.

But then, Tony spots them.

His breath is knocked out of his lungs in a silent punch, eardrums pushing out all the sound attempting to penetrate his ears. His fingers loosen so much they almost drop his water, feeling tingly numb. Tony's eyes, large and surprised, trace the circle of gold curled around Steve's fourth finger, gleaming softly against the artificial light around the dining room.

Steve is still wearing his ring.

But then, his chest burns and booms, heart roars fiercely behind his ribcage as he notices the thin string of black leather circling around Steve's neck, loose as a necklace, hanging low enough for Tony to eye the shape of metal halo looped right in the middle of the material.

Steve was wearing Tony's ring, too.

The realization left him petrified in place, more statue than man, in stunned shock as he bore into his former lover who only then noticed the brown eyes looking at him, transparent astonishment clear as crystal in his features.

It's like a spell breaks.

Tony's limbs move mechanically, on autopilot, running to the nearest room, getting himself away from what his body detects as danger. Urgency is packed on his step, taking him to the bathroom in record time, but Steve's always been the runner, more athletic between them, and his sprinting lands him a spot in the sleat Tony wass about to slam.

He's pinned to a wall effective immediately, feels cold tiles plant clammy kisses on the back of his head and neck. Tony almost hisses at the force of the slam, but before he can make a peep, his lips are stolen in a savage, fierce kiss.

It's pure desperation conveyed in the most unconventional way. Steve pounces on him, lips wild against Tony's own, pouring every emotion he went through in the past few months,- Longing, yearning, craving, hunger, desire, - his being, his love, his soul into that kiss, barely giving Tony the chance to breathe.

"St-Steve, " He gasps, head tilting slightly to the side to escape the ministrations, to gulp air, moving to avoid the chase at reconnection Steve is playing at by trying to capture his lips again. "Wait, wait a minute, -"

"Missed you, " Steve's voice is thick with want, hitching in the small puffs of air that came off raggedy and breathless, words melting over Tony's mouth. Steve's face glows with a blush he wants to kiss with inhuman greed. "I missed you, I missed you,Tony I missed you" Tony's fucked.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #captain america #stony #stevetony #steve x tony #tony x steve #ironcap #capiron #divorce au #yconic

169 notes · View notes

finitepeace · 2 years ago

Text

my favorite stony, read in 2022 (pt. 1)

I think last year I read probably a hundred of stony fics. here are my favorites:

Choose the Road by dirigibleplumbing Words: 4,889 | G

Or, 5 times Tony heard Steve singing folk songs from his childhood. A fic about flirting and courting, heritage and homeland. There’s a lullaby, Steve drawing Tony, and, ultimately, a wedding.

Back in Time by DepressingGreenie words: 100 | T

Steve and Tony are stranded in the past...

maybe they are by Areiton words : 1415 | T

“Maybe they fucked and Stark broke his heart,” Teddy says, watching Stark standing next to a table full of grad students, talking animatedly, waving his coffee as Rogers dodged by, giving him a dirty look.

Or That professors fic I've been promising to write.

this is me trying by desitonystark words: 21653 | T

Until he comes home to find his apartment empty, divorce papers on the dining table, and realises that he doesn't have everything. Not really. Maybe, he had nothing to start with.

Hero by lady_oneder words: 17132 | T

Time travel is fickle, and Tony is busting out his dad moves. Peter just wants to take the physics test he studied hard for.

Tony, Morgan, and Peter accidentally travel back and time and meet Howard and Maria Stark

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy by mybrotherharry words : 10658

The first time Jarvis holds little Anthony in his arms, he is overwhelmed by emotion that is surprising in its intensity. When little Anthony's palm curves around his finger, Jarvis ducks his head to keep the others from seeing the wetness in his eyes.

"Hello Master Anthony," he whispers into the little ear, tugging the bundle of blankets closer to his heart.

101 ways to propose by starklystar words: 46k | M

a collection of one shot stories and AUs where Steve and Tony proposes to each other:

leave the war at the doorstep by starklystar 36k words

collection of my stevetony one shot AUs

The Places That Alone I'd Never Find by Tito11 words: 3 5k

Tony's not your average omega. Steve's just trying to keep up. Together, they're unstoppable.

4 out of 5 dentists recommend by JenTheSweetie 2k | t

Tony noticed the toothbrush on a Wednesday, and that was when everything went to hell.

#annual faves: 2022 #annual faves #fic rec #favorite #stevetony #stony #favorites: stevetony

14 notes · View notes

moontours · 4 years ago

Text

was in class for a few hours and opened discord to see zee and rina going through their divorce era while brooke and maria are their lawyers and kat is the judge IM LITERALLY LOSING IT

au where zarina are stevetony, matt represents tony, jen represents steve and thor is the judge

#LWMDRHBHJBAHJSDBAJD!?!?EFJHJABSD I CANT BREATHE #genosha discord

12 notes · View notes

cowboyhorsegirl · 2 years ago

Note

Rich horse girl Tony coming home from uni to excitedly ride his beloved horse only to meet studly stable hand Steve, who's got hair so gold it’s hard to even tell if he has hay in it, coming home after riding TONY'S horse on a grueling trail and said horse is now too tired for Tony to ride tonight even tho that’s all Tony has wanted to do since Christmas break

Thus begins their tumultuous relationship for a summer full of sexual tension

Tony in those rich horse people cloths with the tight pants and the tall boots and the coat with the tails. Steve in overalls, maybe JUST overalls

all summer

(The horse is a child of divorce and loves them both, horse divorce)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

❤️‍🩹🐎horse divorce🐎❤️‍🩹

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#hnnnnnnng horses AND stevetony literally what else even is there in this life???#god rich horse girl tony would be such a snob #i'm imagining like a princess bride type of dynamic and i'm loving it #also i want to talk about the horse. I think the horse is mottled gray and i love the horse i want to pet the horse #horses #stevetony #fic!#anon #signed sealed delivered #also their outfits!!! lord in heaven #horse divorce au

18 notes · View notes

stevetonyweekly · 8 days ago

Text

SteveTony Weekly - Week 8 - College AU

Happy Sunday! I’m spending the weekend on campus for a residency for my master’s program, which means as you’re reading this, I’m taking a final--send me positive vibes!! But because I’m in class, and college, ect--y’all get one of my favorite tropes this week:

College AU!!

I love college aus, because it’s just young puppy love with a hint of adult teeth to make things real. Did you know that the very first Stevetony fic I read was a college au, and a lot of what caused me to fall in love with these two adorable boys? True story. Anyway--here’s you’re list. Be sure to kudo and comment if you enjoy a fic!

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

Fanart included.

Slut Era by BladeoftheNebula

Tony never meant to become the campus bicycle but since that was apparently what was expected of him he figured it was easier just to lean into it.

He just never expected Steve Rogers would ever want to take a ride.

Open Field in Front of Him by orphan_account

Steve Rogers's football season is functionally over after a loss to Rutgers, but he finds a distraction in Tony Stark (yes, THAT Tony Stark). A college AU Stony fic.

Bulletproof by foxxcub

At age fifteen, Steve Rogers had been in love with Tony Stark.

By age twenty, he’d (mostly) gotten over it. And then he promptly became Tony Stark's fuck buddy.

falling like the stars by complicationstoo

When Tony starts at MIT, he's excited to finally be in the same city as his older brother, Bucky, again. Then he meets Bucky's roommate and best friend Steve Rogers and falls faster than he would have ever thought possible.

Lost Boy by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Steve has eight weeks to finish studying for and pass his bar exam. And its going rather well, until 20 year old boy genius Tony walks into the same library, and sits at the same table.

Steve doesn't usually go for kids like Tony- young and irresponsible, ripped jeans and eye liner, and a tongue ring that is way more distracting that it should be.

Oh, and Tony is high as a kite, studying his physics text book.

Steve should look away, but he cant stop staring, and Tony is staring right back, more than a little interested in the serious blonde with the cute glasses and big shoulders pushing against that button up.

A stand up guy like Steve could be good for a troubled kid like Tony. But maybe a punk kid like Tony is good for a guy like Steve as well.

I wanna hold your hand by sirona

No one understands what it's like growing up rich and yet more alone than anyone should be able to stand - except for people who grew up just like you, that is. In which Tony Stark goes to Oxford University and meets people and makes enemies and makes friends and changes people's minds and falls in love - amongst other tales of mishap and adventure.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #captain america #iron man #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

27 notes · View notes

bruciewayne · 5 years ago

Text

(part 1/? of a stevetony ocean’s 11 au)

Steve walks into the grey, cinderblock room, in the same fatigues he’s worn for the past two years and drops down into the single fold-out chair in front of a row of people from the board who’ll forget him within ten minutes.

“Good morning,” one of them, the lady in the centre, says.

Steve nods and replies, “Good morning,” because Sarah Rogers may have raised a criminal, but she raised a (relatively) polite one. And one of his buddies back in the cellblock explicitly reminded him to be on his best behaviour or else he’d have no chance of getting parole.

“Please state your name for the record.”

Steve looks directly into the lens of the camera, “Steven Grant Rogers.” He wonders if Tony might watch the tapes later.

“Thank you. Mr. Rogers, the purpose of this meeting is to determine whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again. While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other confidence schemes and frauds. What can you tell us about this?”

Steve shrugs, “As you say, ma'am, I was never charged.”

Don’t admit to anything before they show they have proof, one of the first rules he learned. Though he supposes he has to commend them for at least trying to get him to admit to something.

“Mr. Rogers,” a different one, says, and Steve can tell they’re already getting impatient, best behaviour, Rogers, “what we're trying to find out is: was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason why you simply got caught this time?”

Steve has had plenty of time to think why he’d let himself get caught, plenty of visits from Sam and Nat telling him why he got caught, hell, even his lawyer had told him. He’s had plenty of time to make peace with it: even the best let emotions get in the way. Despite the reputation he’d built up over the years, he is only human after all.

“My husband left me. I was upset. I got into a self-destructive pattern,” Steve says, as nonchalantly as possible. Left, not divorced, a tiny part of him, a tiny part that he’s gotten used to shutting down as fast as it flares it, hopes. Leave the emotions at the door, probably the very first rule Erskine taught him, even before the two-finger-pickpocket rule.

“If released,” finally, the last one speaks, the one closest to the door, “is it likely you would fall back into a similar pattern?”

“He already left me once, I don’t think he’ll do it again just for the kicks.”

The members of the board look uneasily between themselves, “Mr. Rogers, what do you think you would do, if released?”

(ao3 link in bio)

#steve rogers x tony stark #stevetony #superhusbands #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands fic #steve rogers #tony stark #my fic #my writing #steve rogers/tony stark #boy oh boy have i missed this???#sry for linking in bio like a NERD i just dont want tungle to nix the post in the tags #stevetony ocean's eleven au

89 notes · View notes

ad1thi · 3 years ago

Text

this is me trying

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

i know its a bit late but hopefully you guys enjoy this update!

Dr. Cho is a petite Asian woman with a calm demeanour. Her glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, and she’s dressed in muted tones that match the rest of her office, in what Steve thinks is a conscious effort to make her clients feel comfortable. If the way he’s gripping the armrest hard enough to turn the tips of his knuckles white, and the stiff way Tony is perched on the other side of the couch, putting miles between them is any indication - it’s not working.

“I make it a point to ask all my clients this in my first session.” She doesn’t have a notepad on her lap, like all the movies led Steve to believe, but he still feels like she’s about to split him open for her amusement. “And you two are no different. What are you looking to get out of these sessions?”

“To fix our marriage,” Steve blurts out, at the same time Tony says, “Nothing,” in a toneless voice. Steve can’t help it, he turns to Tony with a betrayed expression, and then back at Dr. Cho as if to say, see what I’m dealing with here?

Dr. Cho’s face isn’t forthcoming, but she does shift slightly to focus on Tony. It’s to be expected, since Tony’s response is so radically different from Steve’s, but for one moment, Steve feels curdling anger at the fact that Tony is being given the opportunity to explain himself before Steve does.

“What do you mean by nothing?” Dr. Cho asks in the same unassuming tone that she used before, the one that made it feel like she was genuinely curious and not like she was being paid for her time. “Surely there must be something you need from these sessions.”

“Divorce papers,” Tony replies, voice not cracking in the slightest, “I want my husb - Steve to sign divorce papers, and the stipulation upon which he’s agreed to sign them is if I attend counselling. You heard him, he wants to fix our marriage.”

“And you don’t believe that’s possible? As I understand it, you were the one who chose me to be your therapist.”

Tony mulls over the question for a couple of seconds, brows furrowing in the way they do when he wants to say something but is trying to find a way to not offend the person he’s going to say it to. Steve’s seen it multiple times, and it’s always prompted a desire to reach over and press a kiss to smooth out the wrinkles. He’s never had to resist the urge before.

“No offence Doc,” Tony says finally, “but I didn’t choose you. Pep did, and I’ve found my life is much easier when I just listen to her.” He pauses, hands reaching out in an aborted motion, like he’s trying to grab his thought before it escapes. Steve isn’t expecting the wave of nostalgia he feels when he sees the movement, and if that isn’t indicative of how absent he’s been as a husband, what is?

Dr. Cho inclines her head, gesturing that the words have just flown past her, and Tony relaxes imperceptibly as if that was something he was truly worried about.

“You said that you want nothing from this,” Dr. Cho prompts Tony to continue, “and yet here you are.”

“Nothing might be an over-exaggeration,” Tony admits, and for a fleeting moment, Steve looks up hopefully, only for Tony to say, “Like I said, I want Steve to sign divorce papers and I’ve been reliably informed that I need to sit here twice a week for the next six months to get that, so,” he gestures, “here I am.”

Dr. Cho hums, and then turns to face Steve. “Steve, you said you wanted to fix your marriage. What did you mean by that?”

Steve turns to Tony, even though Tony is resolutely staring ahead at Dr. Cho. “If that’s what you want, for me to sign divorce papers, then I’ll do it. I’ll do it right after this if that’s really what you want. The point of this isn’t to trap you, or make you do something that you don’t want to do.”

“I’ve found that during the initial sessions, it benefits my clients to talk to me rather than each other,” Dr. Cho interrupts gently, and Steve reluctantly turns to face her, “Emotions can run high during the early days, and it will serve you better in the long-term to not address them to each other.”

Steve nods, feeling oddly like a chastened child, and Dr. Cho smiles warmly at him. “So if you were willing to sign the papers, why is Tony under the impression that you insisted on therapy?”

“Because I did, or rather, Natasha - that’s my lawyer and my friend - she did,” Steve explains. He tries his level best to ignore Tony’s muttered of course she did, and continues, “I didn’t know that Tony wanted a divorce, or why. I still don’t. I’ve been doing some thinking, turning every part of our relationship over in my head a thousand times over, and I can see now that I haven’t been the best husband, and that I’ve made some mistakes. But I came home after getting a promotion, wanting to celebrate with my husband, and found divorce papers on our dining table. I just want to know where I went wrong, and if there’s any chance to make up for it.”

“Marriage involves two people,” Dr. Cho notes, eyes flickering between Steve and Tony, “They involve two people to work, and two people to break, too. That being said, it’s important that neither of you see this, meeting with me, as a sign that your marriage is broken. My job is to help you get what you need out of your relationship, whether that’s reconciliation or divorce. You’d be surprised how many couples I see who love each other, but crumble under these preconceived notions of what a marriage should be. They lose themselves and what made them tick along the way. But this is only going to work if both of you are willing to put in the effort.”

“If not,” Dr. Cho licks her lips delicately, “then Tony, I think you should take Steve up on his offer to sign those papers after this session. Are you willing to put in the work? Both of you?”

“Yes,” Steve says instantly, “Anything. If at the end of this, Tony still wants a divorce then I’ll—” his voice cracks, but he pushes through, “then at least I know we tried.”

Tony is slower, body held taut by some invisible force, but eventually says, “I gave him six years. What’s another six months?”

Dr. Cho smiles, not betraying whether she is surprised by their responses at all, “Then, shall we get started?”

read the rest on ao3!!

#my writing #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve x tony #steve/tony #steve rogers x tony stark #stevetony divorce au #this is me trying #this chapter is a LOT #but yeah hopefully you guys rly enjoy it!!

58 notes · View notes

tinytonysnark · 5 years ago

Note

hi! 40 + stevetony for the ship and fic list? something like that? (forgot what it’s called, oops). thank you! you’re amazing!

40. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au

Tony’s mug goes careening to the ground, glass shards and coffee spilling all across the floor.

He sees Steve wince at the sound but his brain can’t process much else other than that’s Steve. Steve is here.

Steve, who sat in front of Tony in chemistry class and was the reason Mr. Vanko had always yelled at him to stop daydreaming because he’d gotten distracted by Steve’s hair and kept imagining what it would feel like to run his hands through the cropped blonde locks.

Steve, who pretended to be terrible at chemistry all in a ruse so that Tony would have to tutor him after school.

Steve, who’d taken Tony on his first ever date to a carnival - like they were in a goddamn movie - and had won him a teddy bear and given Tony his first kiss on top of the ferris wheel, and the cliche of it all would make Tony cringe if it weren’t one of the best memories he has in 22 years of existence.

Steve, who was with him for three years - throughout the awkward dances, the growth spurts, the rumour mill, the divorce, the tears, the laughter, their awkward first time when they both had no idea what they were doing and Maria had walked in on them and left Steve so mortified that he had refused to come over for a month.

Steve, who shattered Tony’s heart to pieces when he broke up with him 2 hours before his leave and 1 week before Tony would be off to MIT, saying that he’ll drive himself to the airport, that he was sorry and he’ll always love him but that he can’t do this. That it wasn’t fair and Tony had gone home in tears, his mama doing everything she could to console him.

Steve, who was probably the goddamn love of his life because these last few years have done nothing to ease his heartache much and now he’s here, with long hair and a beard and Tony’s brain is whirring on overdrive -

“Hi, Tony,” he says like he just happened to wander into the diner. “I tried to call - the minute I landed, really. Um, it said your number was out of service? So I, uh -”

“How did you know I was here?” Tony asks, and thanks Tesla that his voice doesn’t break even though he feels like he is.

“My buddy, Sam, he uh, knows one of your friends? Rhodes? Told Sam to check out this place if he was passing through and Sam nearly achieved light speed to rush over and tell me -”

“Rhodeybear told you about this place?” Tony thinks the universe is balancing the scales, considering how many times Tony’s gotten drunk and sobbed into Rhodey’s Air Force hoodie as he made incomprehensible noises that sounded vaguely like Steve’s name.

“Oh. Um, yes. And I - I just thought it’d be nice to see you. I’m - God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Tony’s breath catches. Is he -

“I shouldn’t have come,” Steve continues, and Tony thinks the glass shards on the floor probably resemble what his heart looks like right now. “You probably didn’t - I know, it’s been so long and I’m an asshole to be here to ask if you would be open to talk since I’m the one who -”

Tony crosses his arms, tries not to let the hurt show on his face. “What would we talk about?”

“I just -,” Steve rakes a hand through his much longer hair, and it’s such a tell of how nervous but frustrated Steve is, and it sucker punches Tony in the gut how he still remembers all these little things, “- I thought it’s be nice to catch up, and I know that’s unfair of me to ask considering how I left things - and I guess I just wanted to know I made the right choice. And I guess I did -”

Oh, there’s that anger Tony feels bubbling to the surface. Coming out from behind the counter to stand in front of him, finger pointing at Steve accusingly, “Four years! Four years since I last saw you and you show up to what? Make sure you made the right choice in dumping me? That you were lucky to get out when you did? You’re right - you’re an absolu-”

“Get out when I did? Tony, I just wanted to see for myself that you’re- you’re happy! That I made the right choice in letting you go because you deserve the world, always have and I was leaving and it wasn’t fair -” Steve clicks his jaw shut with a snap, stopping mid sentence

Another familiar sign he was trying to roll all his unwanted emotions in a ball to be shoved somewhere in a corner and locked away. Tony used to be pretty good at unlocking that particular box.

“Do I look happy to you?” Tony asks incredulously, thinking he’s probably lost whatever chance he had at playing it cool the moment he dropped his mug at the mere sight of Steve’s face.

“Are you - are you not happy with your - with Rhodes?”

Tony’s face scrunches, “Rhodey? Why would I - Oh. Rhodey is just a friend, Steve. I’m not - we’re not together.”

“Oh,” Steve exhales, shoulders visibly relaxing and Tony feels like he’s gotten whiplash from this conversation. “Steve - did you - did you come here to get back together?”

Steve bites his lip, not meeting Tony’s eyes. “I know that’s - that’s not fair to you-”

“Stop deciding what would be fair for me! That in itself is unfair to me, Steve! I can make my own choices.”

Steve blinks,“Okay, um- you’re right. Okay, wow.” He clears his throat, takes a breath, “Do you wanna have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“You didn’t answer the question. Did you come here to get back together?”

Pink dusts Steve’s cheeks but he looks Tony dead in the eyes, voice unwavering, “Yes, if that’s something you might also want.”

They should probably have a conversation. Sit down, have a long conversation, figure out if this still worked.

But Tony knew it would. Like a gut feeling.

Tony leaned up on his toes and kissed him. Steve met him halfway, like he always has, pulling Tony close and there was a sense of urgency to it, but more than anything else Tony felt relief course through him, warming him to his core.

It felt like coming home after being away for too damn long.

#stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #stony #marvel #ficlet #sorry this took me like a month…i can’t write #y'all can pry my italics from my cold dead hands #a lil over 1k words #nisha answers #nisha writes

117 notes · View notes

onemuseleft · 7 years ago

Text

Divorce AU part 3

Part One Part Two

I am ridiculous. Steve and Tony take care of each other.

@musicalluna also wrote her version of what might have happened next here.

****

The door closed behind them with a soft click and Tony instinctively palmed the keypad beside it to lock down the penthouse. If the Avengers needed them, they had codes to get in, and if the impostor got loose there would at least be a locked door between him and Steve.

“Come on. Sit down for a minute.” Tony led him over to the couch and Steve sank down carefully onto the seat. “You look like five miles of bad road.”

Steve grinned, crooked and tired. “That bad?”

“You’re still beautiful,” Tony said. He leaned forward and used his thumb to wipe away a drop of blood from the corner of Steve’s eye. “Sit here for a minute. I’m going to get the kitchen to start something for you. Any preferences?”

“You,” Steve said, eyes skimming over Tony with a familiar look.

“Not until you’ve showered, eaten, been to medical and had a good night’s sleep.” Tony leaned in and kissed him again, just because he could. Steve’s lips were rough and chapped, but so fucking familiar.

It had been too long. God he’d missed kissing Steve so much.

“Cruel,” Steve said, but he leaned into the next kiss and the one after that. “I missed you every fucking day.”

Tony cupped the side of his face, pressed a final kiss against his mouth. “It wasn’t the same, I know, but I missed you too.”

Steve sighed into the kiss. “I’m sorry he did that to you, but-” He pulled back a little, dark blue eyes locked onto Tony’s face. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse. They told me- I was afraid for you.” He took Tony’s hand in his and interlocked their fingers. “Tell me again that he didn’t hurt you.”

“He barely touched me.” Tony combed the fingers of his free hand through Steve’s hair. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Flapjacks.” Steve leaned into his touch a little. “Saturday morning, late February. I kissed you awake and we made love. Thor made flapjacks for the whole team and we spent the afternoon playing basketball with Rhodey and Carol. And then SHIELD called me in for a mission.”

“And you came back a different person.” Tony remembered that day. “I was asleep when you - when he came back. I woke up when he came in and tried to ask him how the mission went but he.. .didn’t want to talk. He just climbed into bed and turned his back. I thought the mission must have gone badly so I gave him some room. When I woke up he was already gone and - we never really talked again after that. You - He always brushed me off - he was busy, he had a mission, he was meeting someone. I started to think you must have been mad at me for something, but I couldn’t figure out what. And then -” Tony’s mouth twisted into a tired smile. “Then he showed up a couple weeks later with divorce papers, telling me that it just wasn’t working.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” Steve shook his head. “But I’m so damned glad he didn’t touch you.”

The thought of the impostor’s hands on him made Tony’s skin crawl. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to look Steve in the face if that had happened. “I don’t think he wanted to risk getting too close. Sam had been complaining that you kept blowing him off, too, and you weren’t training with Nat and Thor anymore. He. He wasn’t.”

“He distanced himself from anyone who might have realized.” Steve kissed him again. “The divorce would have helped him. Anyone who thought he was acting strangely would chalk it up to stress from the divorce.”

“Yeah. It was pretty stressful.”

Steve reached for him, fingers skimming over the chain that held the dog tags for a moment before hooking underneath it and lifting it away from Tony’s skin. He fumbled with the clasp for a second - his fingers were clumsy and shaking, god, Tony should have insisted he go to medical first - but he got the clasp undone and carefully pulled Tony’s wedding ring off the chain. He slid it onto his thumb and carefully redid the clasp, tucking the tags back under Tony’s shirt.

He held the ring in one hand and reached for Tony’s hand with the other. “Please,” he said, and his voice was shaking. “Please, can I-”

“Yes. Of course.” Tony gave Steve his hand, held still as Steve pushed the ring onto his finger and then cradled Tony’s hand between his. “Steve-”

“It wasn’t me.” He gripped Tony’s hand between his. “I can’t imagine what the last couple of months were like for you, but it wasn’t me and I can’t - I can’t lose you because of what he said.”

“Hey.” Tony laid his hand over both of Steve’s. “We’ve got some work ahead of us, I’m not pretending we don’t. And the last few months were hard on both of us. But I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave, got it? I never signed those divorce papers because I wasn’t ready to give up on us and now that I know you didn’t want it either - Steve, you’re gonna have to pick me up and carry me to the curb to get rid of me.”

Steve shook his head. “Never.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand. “Deal.”

“I love you,” Steve said. “Jesus, Tony.”

“Hey, language. What would your ma say?” Tony grinned and leaned over to brush Steve’s hair out of his face. “I love you, too. More than I’ll ever be able to tell you.” Steve turned his head to kiss Tony’s palm and they sat there for a long moment.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of before you fall asleep flat on your face. What do you want to eat?”

“Anything. I could eat a horse.”

“All right, get up.” Tony helped haul Steve off the couch, noting that while he looked shaky, he was still steady on his feet. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Clint and Nat gave me a couple of protein bars and an MRE on the plane, but before that - a couple days, maybe. The Skrulls thought I’d be easier to control if they kept me hungry.”

Anger boiled in Tony’s gut. “Remind me to introduce those assholes to a repulsor blast if our paths ever cross. Go grab a shower, I’ll order dinner.”

Steve took a couple of steps, then hesitated. “You won’t leave? You’re staying here?”

“I’m not going anywhere. As soon as I finish this I’ll come join you.” Tony waited until Steve nodded, then reached for the phone. It only took a minute to arrange for food to be sent up - the house chef took feeding Thor and Steve as a challenge, so she’d have it under control. Tony’s instructions to bring something nourishing, but easy on the stomach were taken as a challenge and he could hear her shouting instructions across the kitchen before she’d even hung up.

He heard running water as he approached the bathroom. Steve’s voice echoed off the tile walls in a low groan as Tony pushed open the door.

Tony hadn’t heard that sound in months. Parts of his anatomy tried to sit up and take notice.

The shower took up about a third of the bathroom, a wide, tiled space with multiple showerheads and no door, open to the rest of the room. Steve stood in the center, naked, head hanging down against his chest, as the jets pounded against his spine and water cascaded down over the back of his head.

He already looked a little better, the blood and a lot of the general grime running off his skin and down the drain. But it was easier to see how much weight he’d lost without his uniform, and Tony swallowed another burst of anger at the Skrull who had starved him.

He kicked his shoes off into the corner farthest from the shower and stripped quickly. The water was almost unpleasantly hot on his skin as he walked into the shower, but he ignored it as he reached for a clean washcloth and a bottle of shower gel.

Steve didn’t move as Tony carefully ran the cloth over his shoulders and back. He smoothed a hand over Steve’s skin, washing away the soap and blood, shielding a couple of raw-looking patches of skin from the sting of soap. He could feel some of the tension easing out of Steve’s back with every touch, and Steve moaned softly as Tony carefully massaged the tight knot of muscle in his lower back.

He worked his way down, running the cloth over the tight globes of Steve’s ass, down his thighs and calves, then moved around to Steve’s front. Steve lifted his head to smile at him, water dripping down his hair and into his eyes and Tony had to kiss him.

He skipped Steve’s face for now, started with a fresh dollop of body wash and carefully wiped down his throat and chest. Steve shifted for him, lifting his arms and lowering them with just a touch to prompt him, but otherwise stood largely passive and let Tony wash him. He didn’t take his eyes off Tony the entire time, and Tony felt the weight of his gaze like a solid thing. He kissed the skin over Steve’s heart, the soft skin of his belly, the tender flesh at the crease of thigh and groin. Steve’s cock stirred slightly at his touch, and Tony felt an answering heat in his belly, but he ignored both for now.

“Foot,” Tony said and Steve lifted one foot, resting a hand on Tony’s shoulder for balance. His touch felt hot, and Tony held back a shiver as he worked the cloth over Steve’s feet one at a time, kneading the arches and balls of his feet, digging his thumbs into Steve’s heels just to hear him moan again.

“All right, sit.” Tony set Steve’s foot down and urged him to the ledge built into the back of the shower where there was a hose attachment. “Tip your head back for me.”

Tony worked shampoo through his hair - it was so dirty it barely worked up a lather, and he rinsed it out and rewashed it two more times before working conditioner through. Steve leaned back into his chest and sighed, turned his head to kiss Tony’s throat. “Feels good.”

Tony dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “Keep your eyes closed.” He worked a little facewash between his hands, then carefully ran his fingers over Steve’s face, starting with his brow and then his nose and cheeks, keeping his touch light and moving in soft circles. He lathered up the beard a little, but it was tangled and matted in places and would have to be cut - Steve’s captors clearly hadn’t been overly concerned with his personal comfort. “I’m going to get your face wet now.”

Steve hummed a little, and kept his eyes closed. Tony covered the hose with his palm, letting the water fall on Steve’s face gently. He ran his fingers over Steve’s skin to make sure the soap had been rinsed away, then started on the conditioner.

Tony traced a finger over the line of Steve’s jaw. “All clean.”

“Thank you.” Steve stood slowly, stretching his back and shoulders before holding out a hand to help Tony up off the bench.

Tony took it, enjoying the sight of water running over Steve’s skin. “Better?”

Steve pulled him in close until they were pressed together, hip to chest. “Much better,” he said.

He was half hard already, his cock a hard line of heat pressing against Tony’s groin. Tony’s skin felt hot everywhere Steve touched him, like a sunburn. Arousal uncurled in his belly, a slow rush of pleasure that flared hotter as Steve began to rock his hips into Tony’s.

Part of Tony thought this was a very bad idea. Steve was half-starved, injured, exhausted and emotional - and Tony wasn’t feeling much better after the last few weeks. But the rest of him was hungry, aching for this final proof that Steve was back with him, that Steve still wanted him. He slid his arms over Steve’s shoulders, ran his hands through Steve’s hair, and dragged him into a kiss.

Steve pressed one palm flat between Tony’s shoulder blades, slid the other down to cup Tony’s ass, and dragged him closer with every roll of his hips.

It was messy and a little awkward and over far too soon. Steve’s body was shaking with exhaustion but his hands were steady and tight where they gripped Tony. His breath came hard and fast in between deep, bruising kisses. He held Tony close as he came, body shaking and break shuddering against Tony’s mouth as he spilled between them.

“God,” Tony said. Steve kissed him again, hard, possessive, and gripped Tony’s hips with both hands. He tugged, encouraging him to move again, and Tony moaned as he rocked against Steve, sliding against Steve’s softening cock, rocking into him in increasingly desperate thrusts until he came and all but collapsed against Steve’s chest.

Steve held him up. “I missed you so much,” Steve said. He kissed Tony’s mouth again, bit his bottom lip. “I would think about you while I was in that cell. Imagine what it would feel like to hold you again, to kiss you. I would dream about you and in my dreams I was home with you and safe. I would have done anything to have you in my arms again, Tony, I never would have given up.”

“I would have found you,” Tony said. He pressed his face against Steve’s throat and just breathed in the scent of soap and sweat and semen. “He couldn’t have fooled me forever. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner, but the second I realized what was going on, nothing would have stopped me from coming after you.”

Steve smiled. “I know. That thought kept me going.”

Tony kissed his chin. “You just undid all my hard work. Stand still, I have to get us both clean again.”

“Or we could get even dirtier?” Steve arched one eyebrow at him.

Tony put on his stern face and tried to pretend his knees hadn’t suddenly gone completely weak. “After dinner. And after medical checks you out, don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

Steve made a face, but held still while Tony cleaned him off a second time. “Shave now or after dinner?” Tony asked and Steve hesitated visibly, obviously torn. “All right, the food’s not here yet so go sit down.”

Steve settled onto the bench again, back against the wall and leaned back. Tony turned off the jets, then ducked out of the shower to grab his razor and shaving cream. Steve’s were gone, taken when he’d moved out without announcement the day before he’d served Tony with divorce papers.

Not Steve though. The impostor. It only made it hurt a little less, but Tony could work with that. It hadn’t been Steve.

“Hold still.” Tony used the clippers first, cutting away the worst of the matted mess and letting it fall to the shower floor. He got it as short as he could before he switched to the razor. He smoothed the shaving cream over Steve’s face and carefully pulled the razor over his cheeks and the curve of his chin, the soft skin under his jaw. Steve didn’t move or flinch, but he kept his eyes open, watching Tony through the entire process.

Tony smoothed his fingers over Steve’s throat, feeling for any stubble he may have missed, and let his fingers rest for a moment over Steve’s pulse, counting beats in his head.

Steve’s stomach growling spurred him back to movement and he put the razor aside. He rinsed Steve off with the hose yet again, then used a clean washcloth and some hot water to get the last of the shaving cream off Steve’s face. “There you go. Hey, I can see your face again.” He brushed his thumb over Steve’s cheekbones, more prominent than they usually were. “Come on, your food should be here by now.”

He patted Steve dry with a towel, then bundled him into one of Tony’s softest dressing gowns. “We’ll have to get the rest of your stuff back - I don’t actually know where he went when he left, so we may have to do some digging there -”

“I can buy new clothes,” Steve said. “They only things they took from me that were irreplaceable are you and my freedom, and I have them both back. Nothing else really matters to me right now.” He frowned for a minute, then added, “And my wedding ring. I want that back.”

“Your-” Tony’s eyes dart to Steve’s hand and he feels terrible for only just then realizing it was bare. “What did they-”

“They gave it to him. The impostor.” Steve spat the word out. “I didn’t think of it while we were out there - I just wanted you as far away from him as possible.”

“He wasn’t wearing it. He had taken it off by the time he brought me the papers to sign. It’s probably with the rest of your things. We’ll go figure out what he did with it all tomorrow, okay?”

“I want that ring back,” Steve said.

“We can get you a new one, if we have to.”

“You gave it to me. I know it’s just jewelry, but it’s - it means a lot to me.”

Tony nodded. “Then we’ll get it back. I doubt he took the trouble of selling it so it’s probably wherever he was living the last few weeks. We’ll find it.”

The reassurance seemed to be all Steve needed. “I didn’t give it up without a fight.” He grinned, and it was the wild, wicked grin Tony had seen on him before when he’d done something dangerous. “When I realized what they wanted it for I made them work for it. It took six of them to take it off me and they took a lot more damage in the fight than I did.”

“I’d rather you hadn’t taken any damage at all,” Tony said as he slipped into a robe. “But if it had been me in your place I think I would have done the same.” He tried to imagine being held in a cell for two months, knowing that someone with his face was pretending to be Steve’s husband, sleeping beside him, fighting beside him, seeing him vulnerable and undefended, and thought he’d have gone crazy.

Steve was definitely starting to drag as they made their way back to the living room, leaning into Tony’s side and letting him hold up some of Steve’s weight in a way he normally wouldn’t have. Jarvis was there, setting up several plates of food, and he offered Steve a fond smile. “Captain. I must say I am intensely pleased to see you back safe and sound.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve lowered himself down to sit with a tired groan. “It’s been a hell of a couple months, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed. I must say, I find the alien shapeshifter a far more plausible cause for the events of the last several weeks than any other explanation offered.” Jarvis waited until Steve was settled, then handed him a cloth napkin and a glass of water. “Would you like me to stay and serve the meal?”

Tony shook his head. “I’ve got this, Jarvis. Steve’s gonna be out on his feet in a minute anyway, so I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t drown in his soup.”

Jarvis gripped his shoulder tightly for a moment. “Very well, then. Captain, Sir, please call at once if you need anything. Captain, I hope you recover quickly. I shall lock the door behind me so you can have your privacy.”

Dinner was a huge bowl of chicken stew, several slices of thick brown bread slathered with butter and honey, and a plate piled high with roasted potatoes, carrots and green beans. Steve demolished the food so fast Tony barely had the chance to blink, then flopped back against the couch with a heavy sigh. “That was exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“Thank the kitchen, they did the hard part.” Tony took the empty plate out of Steve’s hands and set it aside. “Come on. You need to rest.” He took Steve’s arm and let Steve lean on him as they made their way into the bedroom.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed while Tony pulled shades and drew curtains, making the room as dark as possible in the middle of the day. “Do you want something to wear?” Tony asked. “I - I think I have something that will fit you. Or I can go find something of yours out in the boxes real quick. Give me a second and I’ll-”

"Don’t leave,” Steve said. “Can you stay? I know you must have work...”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Tony tugged the robe off Steve’s shoulders and pulled back the covers so he could lie down. “I’m staying right here. A nap would do me some good, I was up most of the night.”

He shrugged off his own robe and let it sit on the floor by the side of the bed, then climbed in next to Steve. Steve rolled onto his side and lifted one arm in an invitation Tony happily accepted, laying against him, one arm over Steve’s chest, Steve’s arm around his shoulders. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay.” His breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Promise you’ll still be here when I wake up.”

Steve brushed a kiss against his forehead and his arm tightened around Tony’s shoulders. “I’m never leaving you without a fight. I promise.”

#divorce au #stevetony #stony #my fic #nightwalker writes

389 notes · View notes