here is a 616 fancomic with tony being in love for steve for so long he doesn’t mind ditching things to spend time with steve and steve finally getting it and doing something about it
aka the comic to ruin mal's entire life
Tony’s blush. Steve’s smile.
Tony hovers behind the couch for a good couple of seconds before he makes the connection between the pointy-eared guy who is definitely not Leonard Nimoy and the name of the movie Steve is watching. It actually takes a man with freakishly blue eyes who Tony assumes is Kirk saying Starfleet for it to click.
"Is that Star Trek?"
Steve glances back at him, distracted at first, but then smiling when he sees who it is. “I’m watching the reboot.”
Freakishly-Blue-Eyes is yelling at Not-Leonard-Nimoy, and Tony remembers thinking about getting around to watching it. The movie, he means. Last week, Pepper had mentioned something about a second one, because apparently Tony’s been so busy in the past few years he hasn’t gotten around to watching the new Star Trek movies. For shame.
"Give me the remote," Tony says, coming around the side of the couch and sliding into Steve’s space.
"No." Steve’s wearing that stupid sweater Jan got him for Christmas; the one that everyone says makes him look like a dork. He looks over at Tony again, his gaze easy. "Besides, aren’t you supposed to be at a function in 15 minutes?"
"Nope." Yes. Or, well, he was, but then he had been distracted by the TV as he was walking past, and even more distracted by the man watching it. God knows how much funding he’s let go down the drain for Steve over the years so they could go for a burger or watch bad Spanish sitcoms that neither of them understand.
Steve is looking at him knowingly, and Tony talks over the small, embarrassing part of him that never fails to light up at that. “I heard someone was watching the wrong Star Trek,” he says, and shrugs. “I already made the donation; this is a more pressing matter.”
He turns back to the TV, where the crew of the S.S. Enterprise continue to yell, noticing distantly how Steve’s gaze is still on him. It doesn’t strike him as odd until several seconds pass and Steve hasn’t looked at the TV yet, and crap, does Tony have something on his face, he knows he shouldn’t have gotten in that last-minute snack just before coming in here-
His thoughts stutter, stop, and start fumbling along a completely different track when he feels the slight pull at his index finger. It’s slow, but insistent, and Tony startles as Steve gently weaves the ends of their fingers together.
And- and okay, okay, Tony can handle this, he’s coped in more stressful situations than this, he’s saved the world a dozen times over, he’s fought aliens and gods and otherwise.
His throat clicks, and he looks over to ask what the hell Steve is up to, but the words stick in his throat when Steve’s hand comes up to cup his cheek. Tony blinks, very hard. Then he does it again, for good measure. God knows how many dreams he’s had like this; he has to make sure.
"Steve," he says, and it comes out sounding mortifyingly squeak-ish.
Steve is leaning in, his eyes dangerously fond. “Don’t freak out,” he murmurs, and Tony has enough brain function to try to say, “What,” but the word is cut off halfway due to the kissing.
The kissing. The kissing, which is happening, which is happening between Steve and Tony, because Steve has just kissed him, and is kissing him, and fucking fuck, Tony’s blushing. He is, he can feel it, and it’s making his entire face flush bright red, his ears, even, but he can’t find it in himself to care, because Steve is kissing him, willingly, and his lips are soft but firm, kind of dry, and- pulling away.
To hell with that.
Tony is dimly aware of his hand fisting in Steve’s dorky sweater, white-knuckling the fabric as he kisses Steve’s smiling mouth. And god, he’s been in love with Steve for nearly five years now, but he’s never realized just how badly he’s wanted to feel that smile turn into a laugh against his lips.