Work Text:
Tony was startled awake by the sound of muffled cursing and the sensation of something heavy sliding from his legs and toppling to the floor with a resounding noise. He sat up instantly, blinking his eyes blearily, grimacing as the low burning flames of the fireplace, the only light in the room, made them water. For a long moment he wasn’t entirely sure where he was until a familiar timbre voice drifted to him from the foyer.
The Sanctum, he was in the Sanctum and Tony was on his feet in a heartbeat, pausing only to pick up the book that had slid from his lap, he walked swiftly toward the sound of his lover’s irritated voice, heart hammering in his chest. The moment he caught sight of the tall sorcerer, relief seeped into him and he felt himself take the first deep breath in far too long.
“Stephen?”
He turned around quickly, the Cloak, whom he appeared to have been arguing with, forgotten. Stephen stared at him for a long moment, brows furrowed, and Tony took advantage of the moment to quickly assess him, eyes roaming over his body anxiously.
There were no obvious injuries, though he didn’t miss the splatter of blood across his face, didn’t dare think too hard about what that was from. He did look tired, but Stephen always looked tired these days, no matter how early Tony tried to drag him to bed. His tunic was a little roughed up, black marks that reminded him a little much of fire, darkening the fabric. Tony counted himself lucky that the only thing he could otherwise see, was the sweat glistening on his skin and the smudges of dirt on his face.
It didn’t mean he was alright, but it helped all the same.
“What are you doing here?”
Tony winced at the sound of his hoarse voice, was already itching to get him some water. Still, his words caught his attention and he found himself trying to parse out the meaning behind them, how to approach this in a way that wouldn’t send Stephen running for the hills.
They’d been…taking things slow.
He couldn’t even pinpoint the moment this had turned into something other than tumbling into each other’s beds, when he started to care that he too often slept alone at night, when he started to worry constantly about him, even though he knew his sorcerer was more than capable. He wasn’t alone, they talked about it enough to know they both felt something and that even though it was probably a terrible idea, really one of the worst they’d ever had, they wanted to give it a shot.
Swallowing thickly, Tony shrugged, “I was worried about you.”
Stephen blinked, like he wasn’t entirely sure he heard him right and Tony waited for a several long, painful seconds before he asked in an even quieter voice,” you’ve been waiting up for me…this whole time?”
Tony wasn’t sure what to make of the consternation on his face, the stormy look in his eyes, but he felt himself bristle a little, “yes. You ran out, didn’t leave me a message, didn’t tell me what was going on…is it really that surprising that I’d be wondering what happened to you?”
“No,” Stephen said immediately. “That’s not…it isn’t about-” he huffed and strode forward suddenly, almost making Tony take a step back until familiar, trembling fingers cupped his cheeks gently. Lips pressed firmly against his and he could just taste the remnants of blood, took in the heady scent of him, and finally felt the last of the tension seep from his body at his touch.
When Stephen pulled away, his bright eyes speared him, “I’m sorry.”
“For not leaving a message or for being an asshole?”
He huffed, mouth twitching into a smile, “both.”
Tony shook his head, reached up so he could take Stephen’s hands. He was gentle, always afraid that he might hurt him accidentally, would hold them the wrong way but Stephen never said a word, never took them away, a quiet declaration of trust, “not going to do it again?”
The pause made his heart squeeze.
That hadn’t been fair of him, he knew that. The lives they led, there wasn’t always time for goodbyes or explanations, no time to say I love you or I’ll be back soon…it might be a lie anyway and Tony didn’t want them to lie to each other. Still, something visceral always sparked in him when Stephen left, a need to be by his side, to keep him safe against monsters and beings he couldn’t even imagine.
But that wasn’t realistic.
The only think Tony could do was be there for him.
“Tony,” his voice was soft, coaxing. “I…I don’t want you sitting here waiting for me every time I have a mission, I don’t want you sitting here wondering what’s happened to me, waiting for me to walk back through this door or portal into the tower-”
He looked up sharply, making him trail off, “isn’t that my decision?”
Stephen sighed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, “no, it’s just practical. Sometimes I’m gone for days at a time, sometimes longer…I don’t want you to spend your life waiting.”
Tony looked at him, took in the exhaustion marring his features, the slouch in his posture that told more of a story than anything ever could. He wasn’t ignorant to the imbalance here, was well aware that he’d already spent too many of his days, his hours wondering, waiting for Stephen to come home to him at the end of the day.
Had felt his heart stop too many times when a portal appeared, wondering if it would be Stephen or Wong, good news or bad news, if he’d gone somewhere, he couldn’t follow. It was an acute sort of torture, one that weighed on him heavily but when he laid down at the end of the night…Stephen by his side, it was worth it every fucking time.
“I love you.”
Stephen smiled, “I know.”
There, in the quiet space between the words, in the way Stephen’s lips twitched knowingly, there was a silent agreement, a loving understanding.