Chapter Text
The problem with Tony Stark is—
No, wait, that’s far too vague. The problem with Tony Stark having ideas is—
No, not quite. The problem with Tony Stark being in love and having ideas is that he’s never given a genuine relationship anything less than two hundred percent in his entire life. Which might be a little sad, since he’s had… two genuine relationships, at most.
No, the real problem is that the love of Tony’s life turned out to be Steve Rogers, and the moment he realized it was the same moment he watched the Chimera plummet into the San Francisco Bay.
It would probably make a great punchline, if it wasn’t the reason he spent the next five years wondering if the Circles of Hell weren’t meant to be some piss-poor allegory for the stages of grief. It’s a level of romantic tragedy that only Shakespeare could aspire to, and Tony has to give Fate points for creativity, at the very least. Who could have guessed?
Then, in the wildest stroke of luck Tony’s ever had, he brings Steve home. Vibrant, alive— a little malnourished, granted— but even more beautiful than he remembers. It’s the same determined tilt of his mouth, the same soft laughter, the same steadying presence that could keep even a modern-day Icarus– like himself– grounded. Steve doesn’t come back from the dead to haunt him, not like his guilt or his grief. Steve comes home, and the Earth is set back on its axis for the first time in years.
His Divine Comedy becomes Romantic Comedy, and Tony Stark has a plan. Given his inclination towards grandiose second chances, it’s not even a question of whether or not he’ll make the most of it.
So no, the real problem is not that Steve Rogers is the love of his life and he never had the chance to tell him— the problem is that he’s the love of his life and he has no idea how to tell him. Regardless of his aversion to both shellfish and overused metaphors, the world is his oyster now. He’s got one shot at this, and under no circumstances can he screw it up.
The actual punchline is that he screws it up in a way that only Tony Stark could be capable of.
It’s genuinely an innocent social visit when Tony drops by Steve’s quarters, intending to talk shop about uniform upgrades and updated training modules. But, of course, that all goes south the moment he catches sight of Steve by the window, bathed in golden sunlight. His brain comes up with some horrific comparison to an angel, because it’s obviously the only way to describe Steve’s ethereal glow, or the way the evening sun catches in his hair.
“Did it hurt?” He says casually, pulling Steve’s attention from the window. He raises a brow at Tony, though it seems to be out of fond amusement more than anything.
“Did what hurt?” Steve asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Tony is man enough to admit that he spares a half-second glance to admire his biceps, where the undershirt of the uniform is pulled tight across them.
“When you fell from Heaven,” Tony says, as straight-faced as possible. Steve lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief.
“It didn’t,” he says dryly, “but falling from a space satellite did leave a few bruises.” It’s more than enough to draw a laugh out of Tony, delighted that Steve’s inclined to play along today.
“I’ll let Thor know you have some complaints about his driving,” he promises, cocking his hip against the windowsill to get a better look at him. “You got time to spare for me, o’gracious leader?”
Steve rolls his eyes, his hands dropping to his hips in his usual display of chastising. “Flattery isn’t going to get you out of whatever you’re in trouble for, Stark.”
“Trouble? Me? I’ll have you know I’m a perfect angel—”
“And here I thought I was the angel—”
“—no no, we’re changing metaphors! Because I only came here out of the generosity of my heart and soul, Steven! To talk about the safety of our teammates,” Tony sniffs in mock offense, “and now I’m being accused of causing problems? I’m being the exact opposite of a problem right now!”
His dramatic tirade is more than worth it for the warm laughter it draws out of Steve, finally cracking through his facade of the exasperated leader. Tony tries very hard to keep his expression casual and not broadcast his heart-eyes to the whole world.
“My apologies for assuming the worst, then,” Steve agrees amicably, a softer smile on his face. “So what life-changing idea did the brilliant Tony Stark come to tell me about?”
Herein lies the problem. Instead of answering Steve with a completely normal response like he should have, Tony’s thoughts have already run off on a thousand different threads, with zero chances of pulling them back in. He’s too busy trying to figure out if now would be a good moment to blurt out his affections, considering the lovely view and level of privacy. But this is kind of boring, isn’t it? Certainly not good enough for a first confession. Maybe for a proposal. No, scratch that, that’s even worse.
Which, of course, snowballs into the idea of proposing. He’s too busy looking at Steve’s hand to answer him properly, trying to figure out if he can gauge his ring size just by eyeballing it. What kind of ring would he want, anyway? Was he more of an old-fashioned simple band kinda fella? Or would he want inlaid jewels? Nah, it would have to be something more understated if he would wear it on the field. Unless he put it with his dog tags…?
“...Ton’?” Steve says slowly, trying to figure out where the hell he lost him at.
“Hey, how do you feel about diamonds?” Tony asks, completely oblivious to Steve’s concern. He’s already grabbing his phone to make adjustments to his pinterest board.
“I don’t— I don’t know if I understand the question,” he frowns, puzzled at the sudden subject change.
“For your engagement ring,” Tony says. There’s a beat of silence that he intends to question, before his own words play back in his head. His gaze snaps back up to Steve in utter horror, his phone completely forgotten in his hand.
Steve’s frozen in blatant shock, and Tony can’t tell if he’s even breathing anymore. Oh, god. He was supposed to ease him into this, not execute a part of the plan he’s not even near yet!
“...Uhm,” Tony starts to say, “So this has been fun, but I think I’m just gonna… go, probably—”
“Engagement,” Steve cuts him off, parroting Tony’s descriptor. “As in— you and me? Getting married?”
“I mean–!” Tony continues, trying to save his own ass before things can get any worse. “You know, hypothetically— I mean if it was something you would consider— not necessarily with me, unless you wanted it to be me, that would be— neat, I think— hey is it getting warm in here or am I just going into cardiac arrest—?”
“I don’t think that’s a symptom of a heart attack, Tony,” Steve says mildly, clearly trying to stay calm for both of their sakes. Regretfully, it doesn’t do anything to soothe Tony’s current tirade.
“I’ve always said that I’m a trendsetter,” he says, verging on unbridled panic, “so now that we’ve established that, I think I’m going to go hop in the armor and launch myself back into space, if you don’t mind—”
“Tony.”
Tony’s jaw clicks shut in an instant, watching Steve in thinly veiled apprehension. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his brow furrowed as he tries to pick apart the puzzle before him. He takes a deep breath, as though preparing himself for one of his Captain speeches, and– oh, God, is Tony about to get a speech about how inappropriate his behavior has been? Is Steve going to let him down easy, or just outright kick him off the team? It could be either one— it could even be both, knowing his luck.
“Tony,” Steve says gently, pulling him out of his own thoughts again. “Why do you want to know about my preferences for an engagement ring?”
“Uhm,” Tony says intelligently, “Because that is… information I would like to know for the future?”
“For the future,” Steve repeats, showing all of the patience of a saint, “as in…?”
“As in,” Tony says, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and taking the plunge, “as in my perfectly crafted daydream where I’d finally admit to being in love with you all these years, and you’d say you felt the same.”
His tone turns bitter, realizing just how childish it all sounds. “and then we’d get our happily ever after like a stupid Disney movie, because it’s what you deserve after all these years, and I’d ask you to—”
“Marry me.”
Steve says it with so much conviction that Tony stumbles over himself, trying to figure out why he insisted on the interruption. “Uh, yeah? Yeah. I’d ask you to marry me. So. I jumped the gun by… several stages.”
“Tony,” Steve shakes his head, laughing softly, “I’m not saying that’s what you’re asking. I’m asking you to marry me.”
Tony blinks. Blinks again. Glances down at his chest to assure himself that the arc reactor’s still lit up and ticking away, before looking back up at Steve.
“...Come again?”
Steve is stepping in front of him between one breath and the next, his hands coming up to lightly rest against the curve of Tony’s neck. He knows these hands— a soldier and a fighter, a scrappy five-foot brawler in back alleys and the gentleness of a reverent artist, warm and safe and home, and god knows a simple touch like this shouldn’t be enough to light a fire under Tony’s skin. But it does. He does.
Steve smiles at Tony, sunshine soft with untempered adoration, and Tony’s fairly sure his knees are going to give out any second now.
“You said that you’d admit to being in love with me all these years,” he explains, drawing his thumb over Tony’s jawline, against his beard, “and you said that I’d admit to feeling the same. We’d have our second chance, our happily ever after, and you’d ask me to marry you.”
His heart’s settled somewhere in his throat, words catching and tumbling out of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s— yeah. Sounds kind of stupid when you say it out loud, huh?” He tries for a self-deprecating laugh, hoping to ease some of the tension and figure out what the hell is going on.
“Not stupid, no,” Steve corrects gently, “it might need some editing, though. It just sounds like an awfully long time to wait, Ton’. That’s all.”
It was going to be an awfully long life without you, he wants to say. But the grief has gone quiet in the face of the terrifying flicker of hope beneath his sternum, and he has no defense to offer.
“I wasn’t going to wait that long,” he defends himself, “I just— I just wanted to do it right, for you. That matters, doesn’t it?”
“Nah.” He says it so blithely that it startles a snort of laughter out of Tony. “Doesn’t matter how you did it. I still would’ve told you I felt the same way.”
Oh no, now he’s going into cardiac arrest. He’s intimately familiar with the feeling, after all.
“Oh. Okay.” He says with all the confidence in the world, “So then we… when you said…”
Steve’s the one to laugh now, a soft chuckle under his breath, “You’re the one that asked first, really. I just figured I’d finish the job for you.”
“Steal my thunder, more like,” Tony can’t help but grumble.
“I can’t let you do all the hard work,” he says. “This is technically my third chance, after all. I think if there’s a time to do something a little reckless, it would be now.”
“This is a hell of a thing to be reckless about, Steve,” Tony hates the way the tables have turned here. “You sure you don’t want some time to think it over?”
“Marry me,” Steve says without hesitation. Tony’s fairly sure he blacks out for a second or two.
“Steve—”
“I don’t want to lose any more time with you,” Steve says softly, resting his forehead against Tony’s. He has to bite back a wounded noise at the gentleness of the action, squeezing his eyes shut.
“We don’t have rings,” Tony tries to argue again, his willpower crumbling like sand. “you didn’t even answer the first question.”
“I don’t really like diamonds,” he shrugs easily, as though they’re discussing the morning paper and not marriage. “They’d get in the way, I think. But rings aren’t required to get engaged, Ton’.”
“What if I want a ring?”
He’s expecting some sort of witty retort, at most. Steve pulls away from him instead, and Tony feels the loss as intimately as losing a limb. He’s surprised to watch Steve reach up to pull his dog tags over his head, before pressing them into the palm of Tony’s hand.
“Marry me?” he repeats.
Tony knows better than to hesitate this time.
“Of course I will,” he says, easy as breathing, his heart settling back in his chest. “You promised me a happily ever after, Rogers.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Steve’s mouth quirks up into a smile, warmer than the setting sun, “Well, I guess I can’t keep my best guy waiting.”
They drape the ball chain around Tony’s neck, letting the tags clink against the glass of the arc reactor. Their kiss tastes like the promise of forever, honey gold and sugar sweet.
As it turns out, the real problem with Tony Stark being in love and having ideas is that the love of his life will never fail to pull the rug out from underneath him.
The real punchline is that he wouldn’t have it any other way.