A/N: I've decided to upload all my fics into a single account. eye of the beholder until let the walls break down were originally only uploaded to my AO3 account, callingthequits. Then I went back to my roots and thought, "Hey, why not post it on Fanfiction too?" so here I am.
Yes, the title was based off Owl City's To The Sky.
Steve stumbled towards him, smiling. "Hey, um, Tony? Want to come along with me for a second?" His Gryffindor robes billowed behind him, his Head Boy badge shining proudly over his heart. Tony scrunched up his eyebrows for a bit, a little confused, but he smirked up at the taller boy.
"Sure," he said, and Steve grinned down at him, damn his height. He took his hand, whoa, what, and they raced through the halls.
By the time they reached the Black Lake, their apparent destination, Tony was flushed and panting. See, this is why he didn't sign up for Quidditch tryouts. Sports, or anything that demanded on physical action were not his thing. That was more for people who were actually built for it. And Tony? Tony was a thin son of a bitch with heart problems who lived on coffee instead of actual air and slept more on desks than his actual bed. He didn't even like brooms.
Flying though. Flying was cool. Flying was nice and free and blue skies and the wind in his hair and escape. It was why he put his genius Ravenclaw mind through all that work at night, trying to create a spell, or a potion, or anything that would help him just be free. Or give the illusion of it, anyway.
He looked at Steve curiously, who was oddly smiling and seemed to pulling himself together. Okay, what the hell? He's known Steve for seven years, seven, count 'em, and Steve was always headstrong and obscenely stubborn in everything. A little shy about it, maybe, but give the man a cause and you just gave Steve Rogers something he will fight the entire world for. That was why he was chosen as Head Boy, and Tony would never publicly admit it, but Steve was the best choice in the history of best choices.
Tony would never admit it either, publicly or privately, but it was something he found to be true for everything. Steve becomes Head Boy? Okay, good, nevermind that he wasn't even a Prefect before that. Steve becomes friends with that weird Norwegian kid? Yes, awesome, Thor will never let you down, ever. Steve saves a cat? Well, hot damn, that cat might end up saving the world one day, you never know. Steve becomes friends with Tony, even when for their first two years they hated each other, even when Steve found him sobbing in an empty classroom in third year and probably only buried the hatchet because he pitied him, even when Tony is a colossal dick, even when Tony himself knows he doesn't deserve it?
He doesn't know the answer to that yet. But he trusts Steve, and if Steve still wants to be friends with him? He's going to trust that judgment, even if he thinks it's wrong.
"So," he said, sneaking a glance over at the Black Lake. He always liked it here, and, whoa, what time is it? The sun is already setting, the skies becoming a mix of pinks and blues and hues of orange, the shadows starting to play on Steve's face. "What are we doing here, when dinner is nearing and so are your Head Boy duties?"
"Uh," Steve said, and laughed nervously. "I, um, have to tell you something actually. It's pretty important."
"If you dragged me here to complain about your paints getting mixed up," Tony said, raising an eyebrow, "I'm going to assure you that it happens all the time, nothing to worry about, and Steve, do you have any sense of personal space?"
Because the few seconds that it took for Tony to say that, were the few seconds that took for Steve to get in his face.
"Tony," he whispered, and Tony gulped, "please don't be mad."
His last one thought before Steve leans in is: Mad at you for what? Because he could never be mad at Steve, never, Steve just might be the second most perfect person in the whole world, next to Pepper, and Pepper is practically a goddess. A goddess who may spend more time in the Ravenclaw dorms more than her Hufflepuff ones, but a goddess nonetheless. How does Tony know this? Because Steve is kissing him and he's still thinking of the magnificent Pepper Potts.
Whoa, wait, backtrack, rewind. Steve is kissing him.
Steve is kissing him.
Steve. Is kissing him.
Steve is kissing. Him.
Steve is kissing him.
STEVE IS KISSING HIM.
His brain might have broke on that one.
When Steve pulled away, Tony's head is still playing the entire scene in an endless loop, so he doesn't really notice until he realized his lips felt cold. His fingers reached up to touch his lips, a faint whisper, and slowly, he turned to look at Steve, who was just as red as his tie. So were, Tony realized, were his lips. Quickly, his mind was put on replay again. Steve leans in. Their lips touch, they fit perfectly. The kiss is chaste, innocent, and a quiet confession of something Tony doesn't know yet. It's like that for a few moments. Just silent, nobody watching, nobody knowing, just them, just for them. It's Steve and Tony for a few moments; a few moments where Tony feels like he's flying.
And quietly, Tony tucked those few moments into his heart, like they're something precious. And quietly, Tony tucked his little revelation in his brain.
They are.
"I'm guessing that was the something important, then?" He asked, a little bit just to break the silence, a little bit because he still can't believe that was real. He's still staring at Steve, who was stubbornly not breaking eye-contact. He nodded, smiling, and didn't say a word. Belatedly, Tony realized that he was still waiting for an answer. How long has Steve been waiting for this, he wondered. Then he asked himself, How long have I?
He looked at Steve, and thought, Too long.
Tenderly, Tony stepped forward, not daring to make a mistake. One step, two steps, three. He's right in front of Steve. The both of them can't seem to breathe. But he knew their hearts are still beating. They're possibly beating for each other, and Tony, nodding, smiling, pulling himself together, thought it's sappy. But it's true. They've been waiting for takeoff way too long.
He took Steve's hands, smirked up at him, and whispered, "Sure." And Steve, grinning down at him, pulled him closer.
I feel like flying, Steve thought happily, and leaned forward. Tony was thinking the same thing.