It was a (semi) quiet day in the shop. Steve dragged a chunk of charcoal across the canvas, trying with every move to perfectly capture how Tony's eyebrows curled when he figured out a problem, how his hands skillfully crafted pieces of machinery, and how his muscles curled under his Black Sabbath shirt.
Tony's head bobbed up and down as he hummed to Thunderstruck over the blaring speakers while Steve simply watched him and smiled. Steve checked his watch, almost two in the morning. He stood slowly and crept around the back of the shop, then quietly snaked his arms around Tony's sweaty torso and tucked his face into his shoulder.
"It's time for bed," he said, nuzzling closer. Steve had never been one for physical comfort, but after everything that happened, he was so happy and grateful to have Tony in his life he took every opportunity possible to get close. Tony pretended not to care and kept working, but he leaned into the touch anyway.
"Not done yet capsicle," he said, more loudly than necessary screwing in a nut. "Gotta wrap up this project or Peps gonna get pissed off."
Steve persisted, and, no words needed, gently pried Tony's hand off the wrench and kissed him.
"This is extortion," Tony said through his lips, "You're the reason I'm not getting this done, you tell Pepper that when she releases her wrath."
"I'll be sure to," Steve said, untangling himself and packing up his art supplies.
"What did you draw?" Tony asked.
"The usual," he said, pulling the cover over his notebook.
"Which is?"
"Oh you know, 1940's stuff."
Tony gave him a disbelieving smile and snatched it from his hands. Against Steve's persistent request, Tony flipped through the pages and saw countless sketches of himself. In clothes, he didn't recognize, with people he didn't know, and a little girl and teenage boy frequently placed at his side. Tony's smile dropped.
"Who are they, Steve? Tell me about them."
"You know I can't do that." He said, voice gentle and commanding.
Tony was fascinated by the little girl. Her hair was dark like his, and she smiled up at him in his arms. His own hair was laced with white patches and behind him stood what seemed to be endless acres of trees and lake. In the girl's arms was the helmet of the suit he had seen in the other drawings. Something about her drew Tony to her, and so his fingers followed every line of the paper trying to recognize her even though he had never seen her before. When he looked up, Steve's eyes were on the ground.
"What's her name?" Tony asked, infatuated.
"Morgan."
Tony nodded and closed the sketchbook, "it's probably best for both of us if I don't know who she is."
Steve simply nodded a look of pure guilt and sadness on his face.
"Hey, look at me," Tony said, placing his hands on either sides of Steve's face, "It doesn't matter what happened in your past- well the future I guess, but that's not important- it matters what we have now, and I'm fairly sure you and your Tony didn't get this."
"No, no we didn't."
"Then we have our own future to make, Steve," and they walked up the stairs together.
When they were both lying in bed, kissing lazily as they fell asleep, Steve finally made a confession through parted lips, "I love you."
Tony stopped kissing him and gently ran a finger over his chin. "I know."