He's asleep.

Just sleeping.

Only sleeping.

Tony had to believe, that if he told himself enough times, with enough certainty, eventually it would start sinking in.

Steve was just sleeping.

It was two in the morning, dark and quiet, and like most normal people, Steve was sleeping.

Just sleeping.

It was two in the morning, dark and quiet, and like he had for the past three nights, Tony was watching Steve sleep.

He's just sleeping.

Tony knew, that if those fluttering lashes were to lift suddenly, lively blue would be revealed.

Tony knew that Steve would smile at him, through the concern that only grew every time he caught Tony staring.

Tony knew that Steve would simply pull him close, unable to offer any true reassurance.

Tony knew all this, because it had happened every night since Steve had left the hospital.

The issue wasn't what Tony knew.

It was what Tony feared.

Tony knew, in his mind,that Steve really was just sleeping.

Tony feared that Steve was still laying unresponsive, as he had for what seemed months without end.

Tony feared that this reality, where Steve had 'woken', looked at him and said "Tony"…was some sadistic nightmare.

Tony feared that Steve was going to open his eyes, and dull unseeing blue would stare through him again.

And as Tony acknowledged it, thought on it; that fear he'd been so adamantly denying clawed its way into his chest with ferocious abandon, and raked fiery fingers of dreaded foreboding down his spine.

In a flurry of uncontrollable panic, despite knowing he was being completely ridiculous, Tony reached for the just sleeping form of his slumbering lover, needing to touch, to know.

His hands alighted gracelessly on blue lit skin, more a nudge than his intended caress, and Steve was immediately awake, blue eyes slightly confused, but alive and Tony felt a bubble of relief grow fit to burst beneath his rib cage, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

Then those blue eyes cleared as they ghosted over Tony, arc reactor more than sufficient lighting for serum enhanced sight. Finding the tell-tale smudges of exhaustion and slight tremble of hands still resting against his chest, Steve's confusion bled away to be replaced by concern.

And Tony's relief was immediately swallowed by crippling, all consuming, heart pounding shame.

Snatching his hands back, crossing them defensively across his chest, blocking all but the most stubborn seep of blue glow, Tony physically turned away, curling in on himself.

Steve had just had a taste of one of his own absolute worst nightmares; being lost to time again, and instead of offering whatever comfort he could, Tony was making it all about himself.

He'd promised himself, after last nights near hysteria, that it was over, Steve was obviously okay and it was time he manned the fuck up, dealt with his own crap on his own time, and got with the program.

He hadn't even been able to put his lover first for one night.

God, what Steve must think….Pathetic. Ridiculous. Selfish. Weak. Pitifu-

So caught up in his own self-recrimination, Tony actually startled at the gentle touch to the side of his face, and Steve hushed him with a reassuring whisper, as his fingers slid into Tony's hair.

With the heavy warmth of Steve's palm across most of his cheek, Tony's mind stilled to a stutter. He wondered what Steve had seen in him to prompt the movement, and waited for the likely murmurs of comfort, and half hoped for scalding frustration instead.

"Look into my eyes." Steve said firmly, his voice gentle, but brooking no refusal.

Tony just couldn't. Couldn't bear to see the pity, or the concern or any other undeserved sentiment, so he kept his gaze locked to the inky shadow of the wall behind them.

The hand cupping his cheek could have easily forced Tony to face him, could have brought brown to blue with what was probably less effort than it took to do what Steve did.

Steve simply waited.

And that allowance, coupled with the intimacy of the arc reactor lighting, and the affectionate tug of a wayward curl at his temple and the caress across his jaw, and Steve's deliberately audible breathing, and Steve's foot nudging him gently in the thigh, as his toes wormed their way beneath naked flesh, was ultimately what broke Tony's resolve.

He turned his head, and gentle pressure framed his face as a second hand became a cool presence on his other cheek.

Somehow in the darkness, his eyes found gleaming blue, and Steve spoke, his voice almost reverent, "You'll see what you mean to me…"

Steve soft words broke over him like freezing water, and Tony immediately tried to pull away, because there was no way he was ready to know that, whatever the truth.

Unlike the almost-caress of before, Steve's grip had no give, and unable to pull back or turn away, Tony resorted to screwing his eyes closed, like a wayward two year old.

Steve's amused snort somehow conveyed equal measures exasperation and sorrowfulness, and Tony winced at the plain emotion in such a simple noise…he didn't want to see the depths of feeling in Steve's eyes.

He was afraid they'd show the pity, resentment and disappointment he deserved.

And terrified they wouldn't.

In the end, he just couldn't.

With a vicious tug, he reeled away from Steve who either had to let go, or hurt him, and that had an obvious outcome.

Tony escaped to the haven of his workshop, a silently shuddering mess of raw emotion.

Tony had decided to allow their fledgling…. whatever it was they had, to die a natural death, rather than being drawn out into something that barely resembled the initial purity.

He'd realized that he needed to let Steve go, before he went beyond, "Look into my eyes…" territory, and ended up on foreign 'I love you' ground.

He'd dropped his gaze from the beseeching blue eyes when they'd crossed paths in the hall outside the kitchen, and ignored the hour of hopeful code entering at the workshop door. He'd hardened his heart at the unneeded apology he'd received, although he had given the 'It's not you, it's me speech', hoping to console. It had been most unappreciated.

Tony had planned to simply avoid Steve for the term of his natural life, and well beyond.

None of which explained why he was lingering in the doorway to their bedroom- his bedroom- where Steve had apparently stayed, despite Tony's resolve to terminate their relationship – and what did that mean?

It was late, going on midnight, and the shower was hissing in the far room. Tony cringed guiltily; Steve only showered this late when he'd been in the gym all day, and now-a-days, Steve only retreated to the gym for so long when he was upset.

The shower cut off, and Tony knew he had only seconds to beat a hasty retreat.

He didn't move.

The bathroom door snicked opened, and steam billowed out around Steve's exiting form.

Tony saw the glorious expanses of shower fresh skin and thick blonde hair, water dark and messy from rough handling of a towel. Yet he noticed only the tell-tale rash of too hot water, already healing to a flushed pink.

He must have made a sound, of concern, or disapproval or distress, or perhaps Steve just sensed him, but hot blue eyes, hard as stone, skewered him to the spot, and Tony wondered if what he'd just realized was cowardice, had lost him what he'd been afraid of having.

Tony would never ask Steve what he'd seen in that instant, what had played out across his own features or been visible in his body language, but Steve had softened, his glacial eyes melting to a warm, compassionate forgiveness.

Padding across the room, Steve had backed Tony into the wall, his arms bracketing his unsettled lover, as he'd dipped his head and snared the slightly anxious brown gaze.

Steve's used his absolute best 'Captain America' voice, the one even Ironman obeyed at least 20% of the time, saying "Don't tell me it's not worth trying for."

It wasn't a question, or a challenge. It was an order. Whatever Tony might think, Steve had made up his mind.

This? Tony? Them?

Was worth it.

And when Tony opened his mouth, rushing in, despite having no idea what he was going to say, Steve obviously decided that he didn't need a response.

Not yet, anyway.

His own lips swallowed whatever Tony might have said, and Steve guided Tony to bed.

He'd actually fallen asleep.

One moment he'd been running an algorithm through his mind as Steve had finger-traced unseen images into his skin, and then he'd been staring at lifeless blue eyes, so much worse than just plain dead.

He'd woken with a start, and immediately rolled onto his side, out of the sheltered cradle of Steve's reaching arms, ashamed of his weakness, and not wanting to risk a replay of a few nights previous.

He didn't know why Steve's coma was disturbing him so much now, when Steve was alive and well…very well, in fact, as he'd proved multiple times earlier that evening.

He had a niggling feeling it was more than just upset though, more than just fear… there was guilt there too, guilt he didn't want to recognize for fear of having to own it and deal with it.

For fear of having Steve know.

Because Tony had almost given up on him.

'I'm giving up on you'

God, how many times had he said it?

What if Steve had heard… what if that was all he'd heard?

He didn't even realize he'd been trembling until a Steve sized warmth plastered itself down the length of his body, legs tangling between his, and an arm curling over his waist, drawing him back against a familiar strength.

Tony thought he'd muffled the strangled half whimper that managed to shove passed the all-consuming relief, but apparently not well enough, because Steve's pressed closer, his lips breathing gentle heat into the shell of Tony's ear, as he whispered, "Look into your heart…you will find there's nothing there to hide".

His heart?

That was worse than Steve's eyes.

Surely a cold, foreboding cavern of loneliness and anger, if it existed at all.

He could run again. Steve would let him.

Tony was sure Steve would let him run as many times as he needed to.

That was the thought that brought him up short though, because… what if he didn't need to.

What if he could have something with Steve… what if he could have lo- something?

His heart?

And Tony realized, that when he did; when he abandoned his carefully constructed layers of pretentious arrogance, and conceited self-importance, when he went deeper even, than the stifling sense of scathing self-depreciation and carefully denied lack of self-confidence, when he settled at pure, base honesty….. there had never been any real possibility of him giving up on Steve.

And god, did that rock his world. Who would have known? Apparently Tony Stark was a loyal bastard.

It didn't escape his notice that Steve seemed to have known.

The poor battered sofa in the workshop was very old. Tony had…come into possession…of it during his MIT days, and it hadn't left his side since. It was tattered, torn, stained and bereft of most of its upholstery.

The couch in the workshop was also perfectly suited for Tony's compact size, and not designed for an overly large person, let alone a physically enhanced super-solider.

It was also in the domain of one especially destructive engineer.

All of this only partially explained why the couch was spread across the workshop in no less than twelve pieces, with stuffing splattered up a good two-thirds of the walls.

Dummy explained the rest.

Steve lay on the floor, half draped over one cushion that had definitely seen better days, and half over part of the wooden framing. He knew he should have been offended that Tony hadn't immediately rushed to his aid, but was too busy enjoying watching Tony cackle like some crack crazed hyena pup.

It had been so long. So, so long, since he'd really heard Tony laugh.

Sure, he'd spent three months of that in a coma, but really…this was just precious.

There were honest to god tears streaming down his lover's face, and Tony's whole body was a shaking, shuddering mess….for all the right reasons.

Bright brown eyes met his, gleaming with mirth and unreserved affection, and Steve knew that it was the right time to press for an answer.

"Don't tell me it's not worth trying for", he said again, and this time it was pure Steve, calm and assured and so, so right.

Sound cut off mid chuckle, and the workshop was engulfed in silence, Tony stared at him, brown eyes shuttering, but the light not leaving them.

Persuasion then.

Starting like he meant to go on, Steve added, "I can't help it, there's nothing I want more". And he meant it.

He'd didn't want Peggy, or Bucky, or Howard, or The Howling Commando's, or the 1940's.

He just wanted Tony.

Wholly and unreservedly and completely.

Now to convince Tony.

Tony gasped as Steve changed positions, and shuddered deliciously when the next thrust met a deeper angle, eyes wide, dark and passion blown. "There's no love, like your love", Steve breathed, deliberately choosing to say it in the middle of sex, Tony a sweaty, gleaming nymph, with a sparkle in his eyes and the devil in his smile.

He was sure blurting something like that out at the dinner table would more than throw Tony for a loop.

Something must have clicked though, because Tony's sudden orgasm left them both dizzy and grinning stupidly.

Steve's fingers carded through freshly washed tangles. Tony was tucked up beside him on the couch, the remnants of the weekly movie night credits still rolling on the muted screen. They were alone, the other four having left him to deal with his all but asleep lover.

Finding the delicate shell of one ear, Steve took advantage of his lover's drowsiness to murmur softly, "No other could give more love…"

He grinned, when in his exhausted state, Tony merely nodded, trying to cover with self-assured arrogance. The creeping flush that stole over pale cheeks was more telling though.

And Steve meant every word.

Steve had spent a long weekend in a waterlogged foreign city, barricading himself into a boring motel room while Tony spent too long days at various meetings.

The last night Tony had rung ahead and apologized for being late getting back, and Steve had ordered nowhere near enough food off a room service menu, and eaten alone in a perfectly luxurious, yet completely hollow room.

Getting in at 10:30pm, Tony had heaped apologies and grievances against board members and more apologies and questions as to why Steve had bothered coming, because Tony had tried to warn him that these things usually went like this.

Steve had answered decisively, "There's nowhere unless you're there, all the time, in every way", because the second Tony had stepped inside, with his damp smelling, sticky clothes and muddy shoes, and incessant chatter and apologies, the room had become the only place in the world that Steve wanted to be.

Tony had fallen silent.

But a smile had played about his lips for the rest of the trip.

It had worked wonders once before, and so, early one morning, Steve had pressed Tony back into the sheets and simply murmured, "Look into your heart…" before he'd left the room, without looking back.

Tony had caught him not ten minutes later, halfway down the tower.

Steve had been pulling his joggers on, when a set of very familiar feet had entered his line of vision. Thinking that said feet should still be in bed sleeping with their body, Steve looked up, and almost swallowed his own tongue at the look Tony was directing his way.

A look that asked if he was aware that the new light in Tony's eyes was courtesy of the sun currently shining out of Steve's ass.

Because apparently, Tony Stark still managed to be Tony Stark, even when just realizing he was in love with Steve Rogers.

"You can't tell me it's not worth trying for?" Steve asked for a third and final time.

Tony simply kissed him.

He's sleeping.

Just sleeping.

Only sleeping.

Tony had woken suddenly, not from any nightmare that he remembered, but with a steady shadow of anxiety slowly building in his chest.

It was two in the morning, dark and quiet, and like most normal people, Steve was sleeping.

Just sleeping.

It was two in the morning, dark and quiet, and once again, Tony was watching Steve sleep.

He's just sleeping.

Tony warred with himself for a moment, needing reassurance, but at the same time, so conditioned to ignoring that need.

Reaching out, with so much more surety than he actually felt, Tony gently shook Steve awake, brown waiting to alight on blue, and dispel the growing unease.

Steve's sleepy eyes opened, and blinked once into the soft light, and Tony breathed in relief, relaxing into waiting arms, only the slightest sliver of shame niggling at the back of his mind.

A hand settled gently against the side of his face, and Tony turned into it at the same time the words met his ears, "Look into my eyes. You will see what you mean to me," Steve whispered.

Tony looked.

Warmth, frustration, kindness,

affection, trust, irritation, loyalty,

protectiveness, exasperation, adoration…

And in that instant, Tony realized that Steve's eyes weren't the window to his soul at all.

They were the mirror to Tony's own.

A/N -

Follow up for all those who asked.
Also for those who didn't.

Not as happy with this one, but 'Say Something' is a difficult song to follow.
I futzed with the lyrics a smidge on this one, but..."Everything I do, I do for you" by Bryan Adams, was the original inspiration.

Enjoy.