Other than Peggy, Steve had never told anyone about his fast metabolism’s response to alcohol. It wasn’t so much because he meant to lie but more like because there had been no need to reveal more information about him than necessary, especially not to Nick Fury and his hastily put together insufferable team.
At first, other than Natasha and Clint who had shared a history, none of them could stand talking to each other without wanting to start a punching something due to their differences. It wasn’t until New York was nearly blown up by an alien invasion that they were forced to put aside their feelings to call some kind of temporary truce, establish a level of trust and accept Steve as their leader.
That, to Steve, should be enough of a foundation at this initial stage, something to be built upon over time to form a better bond between them.
Fury didn’t think so.
Though they’d managed to save the earth, the debriefing had only criticisms beside the facts, pointing out their ineffectiveness as a team, the number of times they had argued, clashed and fought like immature little children.
The party was entirely Fury’s idea, the man organizing it not even participating. Fury probably believed that if he shut them all in a room long enough, they would forget all their grudges and become best friends.
It certainly didn’t work but the copious amounts of alcohol almost did.
Steve’s teammates were singing merrily—possibly out of tune—a song whose lyric even Banner knew but Steve hadn’t heard of, which only indicated how out of time and place Steve was.
Natasha was definitely a happy drunk, her normal serious demeanor turning giddy, quite a pleasant chance, Steve thought as he nursed his fifth drink. Banner was a melancholy drunk, seeming prone to withdraw into himself quietly in a corner away from everyone else while Clint was a grumpy drunk, not entirely different from his normal state. As for Tony, the annoying ‘genius billionaire playboy philanthropist’, he turned out to be an affectionate and clingy drunk, literally hanging onto Thor who was definitely sober.
It wasn’t a surprise that Thor was the loudest among them, his voice booming as he told tales of courage and valor, of himself and his comrades in arms in fierce battles against the mighty beasts and giants that they’d encountered and slain. Tony either sniggered or laughed at everything Thor said as if they were the funniest thing he’d ever heard, occasionally squirming in one of Thor’s bare arms around his upper torso which held him still so that he couldn’t rub himself all over Thor.
Steve’s teeth clenched, a familiar dark heat coiling inside his stomach. He didn’t acknowledge it though he recognized it as jealousy from the years of being Bucky’s sidekick and the months of being around Peggy and Howard.
His teammates understandably believed Steve didn’t like Tony. Steve had believed so himself too. He still believed thus now. In many ways, Tony reminded Steve of Howard, part of his looks but mostly his manner and the confident air of someone who had been privileged for his entire life and used to have his way. And yet there were also a lot of things that Tony was unlike Howard. Steve didn’t remember Howard to be completely spoiled, irritating, infuriating even, narcissistic, egotistical… irresistible.
Steve was drawn to Tony, to his sensual voice, his pretty eyes framed with impossible eyelashes and his luxurious hair just begging for Steve’s fingers.
Even worse than the attraction was the urge to keep Tony locked safely away like something precious, and Steve knew the latter was due to Tony being Howard’s son, which made him one of the few flimsy threads Steve still had of his past.
Tony must be kept away from Thor for an example, Steve decided and sighed dejectedly.
Before Steve could think of a way to extract Tony from the Norse God, Thor seemed to have concluded his story and no longer felt the need to indulge Tony’s behavior. In a smooth movement, Thor managed to remove Tony’s limbs from his body and picked Tony up to deposit him right into Clint’s lap. Sitting right next to Clint on the same couch, Steve bitterly wished that Thor had chosen him to leave his Tony burden instead.
Tony, having protested it at first, sensed another warm body and immediately latched onto Clint like a teddy bear. Steve could tell that Clint didn’t agree to the treatment, judging by the deep scowl on his face and the attempt at toppling Tony to the floor.
“Don’t… bother Clint, Starkkk,” Steve slurred his words, dragging out the syllables, remembering the feeling of being drunk in the past and adapting Bucky’s speech pattern.
Steve had not wanted to act deliberately, somehow managing to get his hand around Tony’s wrist and pull with more than necessary force due to his misjudgment of his strength in relative to Tony’s weight. But then, Steve had an armful of Tony who happily used him as a human pillow and didn’t think much of it. The others laughed as if Steve was in a most awkward predicament, not quite realizing that Steve was, in fact, quite comfortable and didn’t require any assistance.
Clint said something vaguely sounding like ‘thanks, Cap’ and filled up Steve’s empty glass with wine like an offering.
Lifting his glass, Steve took a large drink, the bitter taste exploding on his tongue before burning down his throat sweetly. It was even sweeter when Tony, who had started dozing off and blowing hot breaths on Steve’s collarbone, sniffed and moved up to dip his tongue into Steve’s mouth for a taste. Tony’s lips felt wet and soft against his and Tony made the most delicious noises, which sent all kinds of right signal down to Steve’s cock.
When they parted, Steve took another mouthful of drink and fed it to Tony, not caring how sloppy and messy the whole thing was, not if he could lick at the spilled liquid from Tony’s skin and kiss Tony some more. Tony drank from Steve’s mouth and swallowed it all down, sucking filthily on Steve’s fingers when Steve pressed them against his lips. Steve fed him again and then once more, thinking about how it would feel to have that mouth wrapped around his cock.
By the time Steve could get his brain working, he realized how they must have appeared. However, Banner had passed out while Clint and Natasha were entwined and so into each other to pay them attention. Thor, on the other hand, was watching them with open amusement. Waiting.
Steve didn’t let himself care, knowing his behavior unaccountable for he was also believed to be drunk. He could be content to stay like this with Tony draped over his body and nuzzling at his neck as he petted Tony’s hair and stroke Tony’s flank but it was the time to call the party off for some privacy.
Maybe it was Tony who tripped them both with his unsteady feet and not Steve who pretended to stagger and stumble during their path to Tony’s room. It was difficult to think with Tony hanging onto him like an octopus and licking at the junction of his shoulder and neck.
Tony’s bed made a much better surface than the couch. When Steve landed them both on it, Tony still made an adorable oomph sound like his breath got knocked out but seconds after, his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist and his arms went around the back of Steve’s neck which caused Steve to feel obligated to plant a kiss squarely on Tony’s lips.
There were certain liberties people could take after consuming enough alcohol and Steve had had more than his share of it. Plus, Tony’s self-admitted promiscuous nature made it perfectly acceptable. On the other hand, Steve still had his reservation, not quite ready to admit he was sexually attracted to another man, and with Tony seeming the type who could trample on his feelings, Steve didn’t want to risk letting Tony know.
For the most part, Steve still hoped that his lust for Tony was ephemeral, resulted from too much pent-up sexual energy and this was a mean to get it all out of his system. It only made sense.
Unhesitatingly, Steve stripped Tony’s clothes off, the shoes and socks going first then black slacks and red underwear; Steve had trouble registering the flamboyance choice of color but it was somehow fitting to Tony’s personality.
The shirt went last because Steve was most curious about Tony’s strange blue light which Steve had mistakenly believed to be from some kind fancy shirt or contraption Tony wore under his clothes. The truth in front of him showed the device embedded inside Tony’s chest between a mass of ugly scars. Steve couldn’t imagine what kind of obsession to drive a man to the point where he willingly subjected himself to the kind of surgery that allowed him to carry a power source inside so that he could fly a metal suit.
Tony must have been proud of it.
Steve still remembered his taunt, forcing on Tony the fact that he was nothing without his suit but Tony must have believed that Iron Man was him and not just a suit. Taking Iron Man away from him was tantamount to removing his power source, which explained why Tony was bristling at Steve earlier like an angry cat.
The scars, however, were the only thing that marred Tony’s beauty. There were a lot of callous spots on Tony’s palms, not entirely unwelcoming like the strange device in his chest but surprising, since Steve had figured that being a spoiled little playboy, Tony never had to labor in his entire life.
Tony’s arms were nicely shaped with enough muscles without being bulky like his. Then there were the flat of his stomach in contrast to the jutting hip bones, neatly trimmed hair and the nicely shaped cock lying between his legs.
Steve touched it curiously, liking the warmth and silky texture against his hand and the soft sighs Tony made but Steve didn’t let himself linger for long, traveling down to the soft skin of Tony’s inner thighs to his bony knees, down to his calves and feet. Steve’s fingers measured the width of Tony’s ankles and found them easily fit into the circle made by his thumb and index finger.
Using them to pull Tony’s legs apart, Steve settled in between, found out how erotic it was to look at Tony from this angle, struggled to stay still and not to rush this. Just when Steve was about to have his fill of looking, Tony shifted as if he was trying to find a more comfortable position, almost successfully rolling to his side but Steve’s hand rested on his stomach and pinned him down. The muscles there contracted under Steve’s palm as Tony fought against him in his stupor state for a brief moment before Tony gave in and relaxed into the mattress.
It suddenly came to Steve how little force he needed to use to hold Tony still and even more so, how much his large hand spanned the width of Tony’s tight little stomach. Steve wondered whether he could see the outline of his cock if he was to put it inside Tony, the idea causing Steve so hot and hard that there was little he could do not to seek out Tony’s entrance and breach him with a dry finger.
Tony made a small sound but otherwise did nothing more than squeezing around Steve’s finger, so tight and warm inside like everything Steve ever wanted. The second finger required spit to go in and Steve was going with only his instinct but when Tony moaned loudly and pushed his hips back, Steve knew he had Tony, starting to shove his fingers in and out with absolute accuracy until Tony was hard and dripping wetly on his stomach, Tony’s heels digging into Steve’s back as he tried to fuck himself backward. At this rate, Steve knew he could make Tony come like this but that wasn’t what he had in mind.
What Steve wanted to see was Tony being impaled on Steve’s cock as he reached his climax for their first time, his hole having been stretched and fucked and used before he was allowed the release.
Steve threw the bedcovers over Tony and left quietly to his room. When he was alone at last, Steve pulled his cock out of his pants and with a few tugs, spilled messily over his own hand.
“How was last night?” Thor winked at Steve with a knowing smile on his lips. Steve took a step forward, grabbed the front flaps of Thor’s top and used them to throw Thor across the practice room, all 640 lbs going flying and landing into a heap on the mat.
“Like what you’re feeling right now,” Steve said, not even a little breathless.
Thor looked just a bit angry at being caught off-guarded. “Ah, my friend, I was going to take it easy on you.”
Needless to say, Steve was totally thrashed afterward by impossible strength though he managed to get Thor twice more with his acrobatics and sheer agility.
Steve hadn’t seen Tony at breakfast or lunch. He was worried and annoyed at himself for being worried because anything he’d felt for Tony should have been gone. Last night, he’d seen all of Tony, found him indeed beautiful but not particularly special. In fact, the mass of scars on Tony’s chest was quite distasteful and could easily put Steve off if he looked at it for long.
In one of the rooms on a lower level, Steve found Tony, smeared with oil and grease, tinkling with his armor, which now explained how he got those working hands. At first, Tony looked surprised at seeing Steve and then, was clearly irritated and Steve recalled how much they didn’t get along.
Tony didn’t show the slightest sight of remembering any thing from their drunken encounter, his red lips thinning out when he told Steve to stay out of his workshop.
The next alcohol-laced party occurred roughly a week after they cleaned up the rest of the aliens who had managed to stay hidden in order to band up for a second strike. This time around, it was easier to work as a team, them finding a rhythm, covering and bringing out each other’s weakness and strength respectively.
The camaraderie with the Avengers had a less rowdy quality and there was no Bucky with his wisecracks and silly pranks or the multilingual Howling Commandoes to run up Steve’s tab. Every single of them had dived headlong into danger, following his lead with no super soldier serum or any special power of their own, equipped with nothing but a rifle, pure faith and courage, and possibly just a bit foolishness to believe they could bring down the bases of hundreds Hydras with a team of seven. And yet, they had accomplished the task, hadn’t they?
In this newer world, drinks were free. His team was a lot more attractive and less battle-harden, having never been haunted by the death of their friend, the endless dark war and the possibility of not seeing their loved ones again.
Steve had fallen for Peggy fast and hard; he wasn’t the only who had been in love in the span of a few days. During the war, you never knew how long you survived so you loved the first person that crossed your path and looked at you the right away, then took all comfort that you could and translated it into the strength to carry you through the days. That war to Steve was yesterday and not seventy years ago. Even now, he loved Peggy still.
And that didn’t explain Tony at all.
Steve drank more than he did during that first party. His teammates all assumed Steve was a quiet drunk, knowing not to joke at Steve’s expense when he was frowning at his glass.
Tony was the only one who saw no reason no stay away from his favorite cuddling person, both clingy and needy until Steve snapped out of his reminiscence and gave Tony attention. Steve tongued the rough pads of Tony’s fingers and every little cut on his hands, enjoying the whimpers, loving them even more when they became moans against Steve’s lips.
This time, Thor was utterly smashed, having brought his own Asgardian drinks for the occasion; they all were except Steve who had known to stay away from that magical honey-colored liquid. He wished he knew to stay away from Tony though because Tony made it hard not to put his hands all over Tony again.
Steve appreciated Tony’s bed a lot more this time around, marveling at how comfortable and large it was, easily able to hold four or five more people. One of these days, he would like to fuck Tony into the mattress.
Right now, he had Tony’s pants around his ankles, two of his fingers in Tony’s mouth as he traced the round shell of Tony’s ear with his tongue. Tony’s hair smelled wonderfully and under all that alcohol were Tony’s cologne and maleness.
Tony nipped and sucked Steve happily, making appropriate sounds when Steve withdrew, the noises becoming a startled cry when Steve pushed both fingers inside Tony.
As this was Steve’s second attempt to clear Tony from his waking thought for good, he was relentless and rough about it, one of his arms supporting Tony’s shoulders and rocking Tony back into the thrust until Tony was a babbling mess, clutching onto Steve’s shirt for dear life.
Steve’s teeth around Tony’s nipple were hard over the fabric from the tee Steve allowed Tony to keep only cover up the scars reflecting Tony’s vanity. Howard must have been displeased.
Steve pulled out just before Tony could be pushed over the edge, understanding his incapability to resist from fucking Tony at the sight of Tony covered in his own come, all boneless, open and ready for Steve’s cock.
He stood, reticent to leave for his own room but once he did, he was glad to have Tony out of his sight when he jerked to completion.
It didn’t surprise Steve that Tony didn’t remember anything again since Tony had consumed some of that Asgardian potent draught.
Whatever was left of Steve’s sexual frustration, Steve released it all during training by holding Tony down, throwing him around, knocking him sideway and backward although Steve paid enough attention to measure his strength and only used enough to make Tony feel it in his bones.
Tony looked happy, all eager and earnest getting the beating up of his life, sweat drenching through his black hoodie. Steve watched when Tony sucked onto the water bottle, the long column of his bare throat working as he swallowed, and remembered exactly how that mouth had felt.
Steve, shaking so much from the want, called off their training.
The third party was not unlike the first two, except that Tony was absent, doped on painkillers and resting in his room after taking a direct hit meant for Steve from Doom. Steve had witnessed the way Iron Man got blown up in a spectacular explosion of energy. His armor had shielded him from the worst but the air tank usually used to generate the emergency cushion layer to protect his fall erupted so when Tony fell down, he hit hard. It wasn’t actually that bad, not like they had to pour Tony out of that tin can but Steve was upset.
He could have lost Tony. Losing him… losing him…
The deafening roar of Steve’s own inner voice drowned out Thor’s comfort and the hot burn of alcohol inside his stomach. When Steve left, he went to Tony’s room and slipped under the sheets, reaching out for the feverish skin.
His hand mapped Tony’s body, soothed the bruises and drew well-wishing words into Tony’s belly. Steve stayed the night and when the sun came up, didn’t leave but stayed by Tony’s bed and watching him.
The first thing Tony said was, “What are you doing here?” The puzzling question turned into comforting words in Tony’s style, “Hey, I’m not that easy to kill”, then became teasing and mocking, “Don’t start sobbing your heart out because you realize now you’re falling in love with me and wanting to kiss me or something”, and eventual denial, “No, I’m not the heroic type who is stupid enough to get hurt for you.”
But Tony was tired and didn’t have enough energy to make the full impact with his words. Steve realized how easy it was to understand what Tony truly wanted, by not listening to him but reading the message in his expressive eyes which at the moment were wide, expectant and hopeful.
So Steve squeezed his hand, stayed and waited until Tony dozed off again.
Since then, Steve came to revise a lot of his initial impression of Tony who turned out to be a pleaser to those he trusted to be on his side. Tony was nice in his own way, doing unexpected things for them with the best of intention usually by producing the latest piece of technology to equip them and S.H.I.E.L.D so that they could have a better chance to survive in battles.
His genius, however, made a stark contrast to his ignorance of anything non-technological. Steve had seen him display perplexity over simple little things like a table décor or a manually locked door because he expected all doors were either automatic or sound activated.
Most of the time, Tony had multiple things concurring inside his brain and occasionally, Steve found it difficult to follow his complex thought pattern. As a lateral thinker, Tony often gave the most unorthodox advice though not necessarily tactically sound or possible within the parameters of the scenario.
He still made Steve mad for forgetting meetings and public appearances and never remembered the people he worked with beside Nick Fury and the Avengers while Steve took time to memorize the names and faces of every soldier and field agent, politician and civilian he’d ever interacted with. Steve believed that if you couldn’t feel make an effort to know people individually and put you on their same level, you never had their respect.
These days, Steve could enter Tony’s workshop without being kicked out, got to know the artificial butler called J.A.R.V.I.S. and the robot Dummy, both of them inhuman but utterly and completely adoring Tony who appeared to have conversations with them on a daily basis. He should have been jealous had they not taken a liking to Steve as well, treating Steve like someone they were familiar with.
Among the welter of things Steve saw, there was an unfinished replica shield which Tony used to prop up whatever piece of equipment he was using. Tony also had a box full of odds and ends from Howard. Steve didn’t watch the reels but he looked through the black and white photos, found the images of his long lost days and the end-of-war celebration he never had a chance to experience. He’d thought Howard would marry Peggy after his assumed death but Tony’s mother was some other beautiful woman named Maria who must have passed Tony most of her gentle features.
“You can have it. I was going to donate them to Goodwill anyway,” Tony said from the other side of the room with a torch in one hand and goggles over his eyes. Steve didn’t say thanks, taking the album with him and put it in the box of relics he had been stockpiling.
At this point, the Avengers had made the party a tradition after every successful mission and Steve had come to enjoy the routine. There was a tacit understanding from his teammates that one of the couches was Steve and Tony’s designated spot and that they always went to bed together afterward.
Tony was still oblivious.
By now, Steve knew he either liked men or possibly just Tony in particular. Tony enjoyed being completely wasted and if he wasn’t, Steve fed him more wine until he was.
Steve learnt even more things about Tony in bed, having seen and touched every patch of skin on Tony’s body, found all of his sensitive spots and cataloged the multiple of wordless sounds Tony ever formed. He liked the soft wisp of hair at the back of Tony’s neck, the bumps of Tony’s nipples under his palm as he smoothed his hand down Tony’s chest and the two dimples above the rise of Tony’s ass under his tongue.
The grooves at Tony’s hips made perfect holding spots for Steve’s hands and so was the luxurious curve of his ass. Steve knew places where he could leave bruises and hickeys that no one would know unless they knew where to look.
Tony was a very sensual creature that thrived on seemingly any kind of contacts. He loved being petted, touched, kissed, licked, and sucked. If Steve ever allowed Tony to sprawl on top of him, he would rut against Steve shamelessly and wouldn’t stop unless Steve decided to stop it, the effort always difficult, more at restraining himself than keeping Tony still until Tony’s struggle ceased or drained away.
Steve knew the right amount of force he needed to manhandle Tony around and experimented the various positions where he could keep his cock pressed against Tony’s crack and still be able to lock their lips together. Steve had done a lot of things to Tony except the actual sex. It was more than Steve could ever have; it was not enough.
Tony could beg and plead with incoherent words, with his eyes and his body, parting his legs sweetly for Steve, baring himself to Steve’s appreciating eyes and giving Steve entrance into his body but Steve never put his cock inside Tony. Sometimes, Steve wasn’t even fingering Tony, more interested in feeling Tony’s warm center and tightness as he stretched Tony open unhurriedly like he had all the time in the world.
Steve still hated looking at Tony’s chest and seeing that vile part of Tony. Since Tony wasn’t all good and perfect, Steve could do all this without even remotely seeing any wrongness in his action. Furthermore, Tony wouldn’t remember anything and Steve had the excuse of being drunk on his side. To Steve’s knowledge, as Howard’s son, Tony was linked to Steve’s past which made him belong to Steve before he knew it.
Steve could do this when Tony was sober too. The temptation of being able to stuff Tony full of cock and fuck him properly was great but Steve wasn’t quite prepared to be in a relationship with someone as conceited as Tony.
The next time Tony got hurt, Steve was not around to stop it. Later, during the debriefing, Steve was given the account of the event which consisted of Tony’s decision to become the bait for the giant robot, lead it out of the populated area and buy time so that they could disable the controller across the town.
He knew it was a superhuman killer, specifically designed to seek out weaknesses in its enemies and it hadn’t needed much time to find Iron Man’s and poked a hole through the hard chest plate.
At the time, Steve had been informed of Iron Man’s failure but didn’t get to see Tony until he got back to the tower. There were bits and pieces of broken armors scattering on the ground to the side which must have been ripped off Tony’s body by Thor’s hands. Tony’s scarred chest was bare and ashen like his complexion, cold sweat breaking out all over his face and neck, the power unit lying on the floor in three pieces. Pepper was sniffling but her hands stayed steady when she put another one inside Tony’s chest, turned and locked it in. Tony was still not moving but they could tell that he was fine because colors were rushing back to his body like his heart began to remember how to start pumping blood again.
“Why did he have that thing in his chest?” Steve was glad that it was Clint who asked the question and not him.
“You mean the arc reactor?” Pepper turned to them, having already ceased crying but her eyes were still red.
Arc reactor was such an elegant name for it, Steve thought.
“It’s a medical device to keep the shrapnel pieces from reaching his heart. Current medical technology is not good enough to remove them.”
And that was the short version of Tony’s extensive injuries during his captivity in Afghanistan which Steve would learn later when he read S.H.I.E.L.D. data file, medical report and psychological evaluation of Tony.
No one said anything as they waited for Tony to wake up. When Tony did, his lips tilted into a smile as he said, “God, I hate people crying over me.”
Seconds after, having aware that they were all staring at his chest, Tony abruptly turned away and shielded his chest from prying eyes. “It’s getting cold here. Pepper, do you have my t-shirt?”
Steve realized then that Tony wasn’t proud of the arc reactor. He was conscious of it.
Tony hadn’t chosen to carry it because of his hubris. He hadn’t built a metal suit to shut the world out and himself in because he considered himself better than everyone else.
Steve didn’t know what to think at the shattering realization of his judgmental error, the assumption he made of Tony and the strict standard he held above Tony’s head because he made it Tony’s fault for not being his old friend Howard, for making him feel this insane level of want and need and lust.
By nightfall, they had all cleaned up for the drunken party. Steve sat on the couch with his arm curling possessively around Tony’s waist as he claimed Tony’s mouth with a kiss.
Thor, being his merry self, was telling another story, his loud voice carrying over the room but Steve could only vaguely follow it, the hum of Tony’s second heart on Steve’s palm distracting. Steve had been thinking about seeing it again.
For the first time, Steve took Tony to his room and placed him in the middle of Steve’s bed where Tony instantly shimmered around until he found a comfortable position which consisted of pulling Steve on top of him and fitting their bodies together.
Steve ran his hand from Tony’s leg up to his torso and push up Tony’s Black Sabbath shirt to his armpits. Around the arc reactor which shone brightly like Tony’s very presence, the scars neatly folded around the edge, metal and skin almost inseparable, beautiful in their own way like everything else about Tony.
Steve traced them over and over with his fingers and then his lips and tongue until Tony was visibly shaking and clutching at Steve’s shoulder and wasn’t so much pushing against him but trying to get away, either oversensitive or hurting, Steve wasn’t quite sure anymore. Tony’s eyes were wet pools of brown as he mumbled inaudible words, possibly begging Steve.
Steve drew back, suddenly asking himself what he’d been doing to Tony who had nothing in him to warrant the contempt and objectification, Tony who was strong, courageous and ready to take risks and die for other people like his own life didn’t hold any value.
Tony hid too much of his real self and flaunted his sexual side which made it easy to lust over him and not to love him. But Steve learnt how to now. Perhaps, Steve hadn’t been drunk from alcohol but drunk on Tony, addicted to Tony, and falling in love with Tony. He had no more reasons to justify the continuation of these inappropriate nights.
Right now, he would let Tony stay and cuddle with him, sleeping together for once without thinking about all the things he would like to do. When he woke up in the morning, he wanted to find Tony in his bed so that Steve could kiss him and feel his smile.
Steve wanted to touch Tony when he was sober and awake, so that Steve could tell him ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ and see them reflect back in those beautiful eyes. It was all of Tony and his feelings that Steve wanted.
He hadn’t done it right but he could do it correctly this time.