He takes the kiss willingly, curling around Tony and petting the back of his wet hair. It's soft, not ravenous but delicate and still somehow too-full of emotion.
Steve doesn't do well with doubts, doesn't do well with moral ambiguity, doesn't do well when he can't see the high road ahead of him. And he can't, right now. He's lost. Strategically speaking, he can think of six or seven different considerations they ought to be talking about right now: Should they go after more than one stone? How much should they tell their alternates? What about Hydra's presence in SHIELD and the government? Shouldn't the endgame be to kill Thanos, not just make this one tiny change to stymie his plans for the Gauntlet?
But strategy isn't what he's worried about. Saving the universe, or avenging it, isn't what scares him.
"It's not that," he says, and nudges his forehead against Tony's gently. The bridges of their noses almost brush. "That's not what scares me. I don't want to break. I don't want to hurt you any more."
It says something about Steve that the personal, the emotional, feels like a more insurmountable obstacle than a giant purple alien with a handful of magical gems.
His hands are cradling Tony's face now, which mean he can feel the grin appear in the flex and pressure of his jaw and cheeks, and he opens his eyes and tilts his head back enough to get a glance at it. Hope or mania? He can't quite tell, but either way it's kind of a good look for Tony Stark. He gives a little laugh and kisses him again and murmurs, "You're crazy," against his lips. "Do you think you can save me, Tony? I think...you got the best chance of anyone I know."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momijizukamori![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-07-08 03:56 am (UTC)Steve doesn't do well with doubts, doesn't do well with moral ambiguity, doesn't do well when he can't see the high road ahead of him. And he can't, right now. He's lost. Strategically speaking, he can think of six or seven different considerations they ought to be talking about right now: Should they go after more than one stone? How much should they tell their alternates? What about Hydra's presence in SHIELD and the government? Shouldn't the endgame be to kill Thanos, not just make this one tiny change to stymie his plans for the Gauntlet?
But strategy isn't what he's worried about. Saving the universe, or avenging it, isn't what scares him.
"It's not that," he says, and nudges his forehead against Tony's gently. The bridges of their noses almost brush. "That's not what scares me. I don't want to break. I don't want to hurt you any more."
It says something about Steve that the personal, the emotional, feels like a more insurmountable obstacle than a giant purple alien with a handful of magical gems.
His hands are cradling Tony's face now, which mean he can feel the grin appear in the flex and pressure of his jaw and cheeks, and he opens his eyes and tilts his head back enough to get a glance at it. Hope or mania? He can't quite tell, but either way it's kind of a good look for Tony Stark. He gives a little laugh and kisses him again and murmurs, "You're crazy," against his lips. "Do you think you can save me, Tony? I think...you got the best chance of anyone I know."