Work Text:
Project Miracle
There was a glow to Steve, when he was tired, when he was anxious. Tony tried not to read into it, told himself that Steve was hard on him because of their differences as people, not because he found Tony lacking.
Tony only had to find one silvery white feather in the gym to realize that he’d been fooling himself, and sighed, and decided to give Steve a wide berth from then on. So what if Steve had been trying to invite him out for meals or hang out with him as a friend—it was just Steve keeping an eye on him, to make sure he didn’t fall to the dark side, just like everyone else. Figured that the serum only worked on him because he was an angel to begin with.
He kept the feather, though. It shined dimly in the light. It was warm in his hands. Tony’s chest stopped hurting for a moment when he held it. He didn’t do it often, though, because Steve had clearly gone out of his way to clean up after himself; if he found out Tony had one of his feathers, he’d just be angry.
“Tony, we’re going to go out to lunch, are you coming?” Natasha asked when he came up to the common room for coffee.
“Um,” Tony began, eyes darting over the rest of the team before he turned his gaze away nervously. “No. I don’t think so. Pepper said she was coming to threaten me with paperwork I’ve been putting off.”
“Oh,” she said, and then, “Okay,” and then the team murmured goodbyes and left.
Tony curled in on himself, hands tight around his mug. It was better this way. Natasha was starting to glow a little now, too. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Steve was rubbing off on her.
He saw the others beginning to glow as time passed. It was slow, and sometimes the light flickered, but eventually, he realized that the rest of the team, even Thor, were glowing faintly when they were tired or anxious or hyper-focused on something else. He avoided them more. He knew he wouldn’t ever glow like they do. He’d done too much wrong, had too much blood on his hands. He was beyond saving. He thought, perhaps, he always had been.
“You know I can tell when you’re holding my feather, right?” Steve asked one night, when Tony had snuck into the kitchen to raid the fridge for leftovers.
Tony froze, because he didn’t know, but it made sense, when he thought about it. His hands shook around the foam container he was holding, not turning to face him, wondering if he was going to be asked to leave the team. He didn’t glow. He was beyond help. He tried to make up for all his mistakes but there were too many, he didn’t know what he can possibly do to—
“I was sent to help everyone on this team, Tony,” Steve said quietly, coming up behind him. “Not just the others. You too.”
“I can’t be helped,” Tony croaked. “I’m too far gone.”
“No one is ever too far gone, Tony,” Steve promised him. He reached out.
Tony whipped around to face him, wild-eyed. “All of the blood on my hands, Steve. All of these—”
Steve cupped his cheeks and shushed him gently. “It’s okay, Tony. I’ve got you.”
“Stop,” Tony whispered, overcome with emotion. “I’m not worth it.”
“Of course you are,” Steve whispered back. “Don’t worry. We’ll make you see it. We’ll take care of you.”
Tony closed his eyes, then swallowed thickly and forced them open again. “Do you want your feather back?”
“No, it’s yours. I left it for you,” Steve answered, and kissed him on the forehead. “So that you’d have a piece of me to carry with you when you were feeling weak.”
“Shut the fuck up. That’s so corny,” Tony croaked, and Steve laughed, unoffended.