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Where You End

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It’s been nineteen days since Tony last saw Steve. Their separation hadn’t been voluntary; Pepper had blown into the Avengers Mansion, carrying three briefcases and a harried expression. She had whispered about the factories over in Tokyo, how some were falling into the red for less than usual circumstances, and Tony had caught Steve in a desperate kiss before they both rushed out the door.

The process overseas had called for no outside communication so Tony hadn’t been able to call Steve, hadn’t been able to listen to his voice, or get any updates of what was happening. He had been smart and brought his toys with him, but they could only fill in for Steve Rogers for so long.

So when he slips into the Avengers Mansion, quarter to midnight, the entire house is asleep. He doesn’t call out, mainly because he has been talking nonstop for almost three weeks trying to figure out what had gone wrong, and also because he can hardly keep his eyes open, let alone figure out how to work his mouth. The silence is comforting and he stumbles over to the stairs, thinking nothing short of a warm bed and a warm Steve and maybe some warm kissing. He tugs at his tie, gives up when it won’t come free with a few short jerks, and struggles to remove his jacket. Everything is blurring now, and he trudges up the stairs with a single-minded focus. The numbers quietly cheer him on.

“Welcome back, sir,” Jarvis whirs, whisper soft, and Tony gestures at the wall. Jarvis hums at him in amusement before saying, “And a good night as well.”

All the bedroom doors look the same and Tony has to stop for a second to recall exactly how many doors down Steve and his shared bedroom is. He’s lost his coat somewhere on the stairs and his buckle joins the floor as he begins walking again. Three doors down, turn left at the forked hallway, and – there. Yes. That’s his bedroom.

He sleepily leans against it, hand pawing at the handle for a few short moments before he tries to reboot himself. The door opens before he has a chance to even gather the mental capacity, and he falls forward onto a broad chest.

“Mmm, Steve,” Tony says and the chest beneath his cheek shakes with laughter.

“I fear you miscounted the amount of doors there are within this hallway, Anthony,” Thor says and Tony blinks up at him.

“You aren’t Steve.”

“Nay. Do you wish help to return to him?” Thor is smiling, broad and silly. Tony contemplates stepping back, wonders at social boundaries, but decides if Thor is going to find Steve for him, he can get in a few secret cuddles. He’s so tired.

“Yes. That would be. Yes,” Tony says and Thor turns him, carefully directing him down the hallway. Tony spends most of it leaning back against Thor and when they find his door, he lets out a short noise of surprise.

“How did I mix up the doors? This one is obviously three centimeters wider. The differences astound,” Tony says and Thor knocks.

Steve answers with shaggy hair and sixty degrees of frowning surprise on his face. Thor explains, but Tony is too busy soaking up the warmth the Asgardian exudes to really notice, and then Thor gently guides him toward Steve. If Tony were more awake, he would be offended, but he’s just happy that it’s Steve, and he waves a hand at Thor in thanks when Thor bids them goodnight.  

“Welcome back, Tony,” Steve chuckles as he closes the door and Tony just wants to curl up against him and demand cuddles. His mind is far too gone. Steve catches him up against the wall, cradling his head with one hand while the other carefully traces down his spine and around his hip. “I’ve missed you.”

“You have no idea,” Tony says, ducking his face into the crease of Steve’s neck. “Toys are only so good.”

Laughing, Steve slips Tony’s shirt out of his pants, fingers sliding up and over the sensitive skin of his back. “Which one did you take?”

“If I told you, you would laugh. I didn’t realize I would be overseas for that long.” Tony runs his hands down Steve’s chest, distracted by the texture formulas mixing with the angle equations. “I couldn’t even call you for some quality phone sex. The situation was fucked from the get go and you’re lucky I’m even standing right now, let alone talking.”

Steve tugs on his hair, and Tony turns his head to accept the kiss. It starts off slow, easy and kind of sleepy. Tony lets out a soft moan, clutching at Steve’s hips and drawing him closer. He opens his mouth and Steve follows suit, not even slowing, and Tony knows where this is going, is hoping because he had spent far too many nights thinking of Steve and fantasizing about Steve and hating that his fingers and the toy weren’t even comparable. He sucks Steve’s tongue into his mouth, tangling them together, and Steve slips his hands under Tony’s slacks and grabs his ass.

“Missed this,” Steve says, pulling back to pepper Tony’s cheeks and nose with soft kisses. “Missed you.”

Leaning his head back against the door, Tony closes his eyes against the slip-slide of sleep equations that are adamant in their demands. Steve kisses down his neck, bringing him back, and Tony manages to get his hands under Steve’s too tight t-shirt.

“I hate to spoil this, but I’m pretty much three seconds from completing an extensive sleep equation that I’ve been stalling on for the last sixty seven hours, so.” Tony bumps his chin against Steve’s forehead, closing his eyes. “If you let me sleep I promise, promise, that everything will be awesome in the morning.”

Steve wraps firm arms around him and lifts. Tony clings, adrenaline a slap in the face, and he contemplates whether he can actually stay awake for sex or if he’s going to tune out before long. “If you’re planning on going through with this, there might be complications.”

The bed is a few short steps away and Steve carefully lowers them both to it. Tony worries at his tie, frowning at the knot it’s become. Steve pecks him on the nose and bats his fingers away. “Kissing isn’t too difficult, right? I just. I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. I want to learn you all over again.”

Huffing, Tony runs his fingers through the eights in Steve’s hair. “Nineteen days, thirteen hours, and seventeen minutes. I’m having issues figuring out whether or not I want to sleep first and then have you fuck me, or if I’ll be too desperate for it and won’t be able to sleep anyway. Your argument helps. Other thoughts?”

“Well,” Steve says, kissing his forehead, “you said you’ve been up for three days. And you know how I feel when you don’t sleep enough.” Steve slips the tie off and starts in on the buttons of his shirt. Tony squirms under him. Steve stills him with a hand to the arc reactor and Tony sighs.

“Fine. Sleep first. Then welcome home sex.”

Steve laughs, kissing his collarbone and then the skin around the arc reactor. Tony thinks he makes a noise, knows he does, but his body is realizing it’s on a horizontal surface, and that surface is soft and warm. He curls up when Steve tugs on him, until Steve can remove his button down and his undershirt, letting Tony flop back when he goes for his pants. This would be a lot sexier if Tony wasn’t fading in and out.

“I wore your shirt to bed when I was overseas,” Tony says, and Steve looks up at him, working Tony’s pants down his legs. “Loneliness is fickle, and you smell good.”

Steve smiles, gentle. “Do you want one of my shirts, Tony?”

Tony doesn’t say anything, just reaches up when Steve tells him to, Steve’s button up cold against his skin, but it smells good. He shuffles around when Steve moves him, pushes further against Steve when he curls big around his back, arm heavy on his side and tucked against the arc reactor. Tony gathers up his hand, threading their fingers together. His muscles finally seem to relax, his spine unknotting and the heat around the arc reactor cooling to something comfortable. Steve is a strip of warmth along his back, matching his breath to Tony’s, and Tony smiles, lifting Steve’s fingers to press a kiss against his knuckles. Steve shifts, pressing his face to the back of Tony’s neck and Tony sighs out a breath.

And between a one and a zero, he’s out.