This is what happens when I'm trying to put off homework and my siblings have stolen the tv.
At first Tony had thought that he had a chance.
There had been moments, clear, beautiful, perfect fucking moments in between the yelling and explosions and saving the world.
But eventually he had to face the truth. And the truth was that he was Anthony Stark and he was not his father and because he was not his father Steve Rodgers did not love him.
Sure those moments had been wonderful, all the stolen glances, the terrible, bubbling, tension that existed. It had been wonderful and horrible and sickening all at once, because as right as it felt to Tony he knew that it didn't feel right for Steve. Even those moments that had been longer than moments, those hours spent together, sighing and moaning and breathing in each other's air. They had been so perfect for one of the men and so fake for the other. Tony knew that Steve didn't, couldn't ever feel what he did. No matter how hard the man tried to be what Tony wanted, Tony wasn't what he wanted, wasn't who he wanted. Because instead of gasping out a short, breezy, easygoing name he always breathed a longer name when they were in bed together, one that started with a soft H and ended with a sharp, cut off d as the blonde's round blue eyes flickered up to Tony's, laden with guilt. Guilt that would make Tony's breath catch in his throat and would make him role over in bed, as far away as possible from Steve because no way was he doing this, no way was he this twisted. How could he do this? How could he manipulate and take so much from the man that he loved? How could he do all this knowing that Steve didn't want it? Oh right, because he was a narcissistic, rotten old drunk who had learned from an early age that the only way to show someone you loved them was through the most primal of actions, and that it was ok to coerce and take what isn't yours so long as you say you love them.
And it was so sick it was so beyond wrong and terrible that Tony had fallen so hard for the man who had been so in love with his father, his cold, alcoholic, angry father, the man that couldn't ever be bothered to remember Tony's birthday. But maybe he had been different; yeah surely he had been different once. There was no way that Steve; lovely, sweet and tender Steve had fallen in love with the Howard that Tony remembered. Maybe once upon a time his father had been someone worth loving.
Tony really hoped so.
He really hoped that the man he would die for wasn't hung up on an asshole who hadn't cared about anyone other than himself.
He didn't think he would be able to live with that. God knows it was hard enough living like this.
Wow i'm a horrible person. Excuse me while I sob over my Tony feelings.
