Tony Stark was almost used to be on his knees in front of Steve Rogers.

And not simply because they'd been sleeping together for two years. Sparring with Rogers usually ended up with him on his knees, too, honestly.

But this time there was a ring in his hand, and Tony was blushing like mad, and Steve was just as red as that if not more, but Tony wasn't making this a joke; wouldn't back down on this, because, really he wanted Steve to say yes to him more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

"Marry me, Rogers. You can't say no now, please. New York allows it, and the President of the United States is a supporter...it's not un-American; and you can't tell me it's wrong. If you love me...if you want to spend the rest of your life with me...marry me."

There was a list a mile and a half long of all the different ways this could end up blowing up in Tony's face. Not the least of which was that he was an immense fuck-up and Steve really wouldn't want to spend the rest of his life with Tony. In fact, just that one reason almost had the words that felt like battery acid and bile in the back of his throat, negating it all and writing himself a way out of facing the fact that, really, Steve didn't love him like he loved Steve. It felt like the arc reactor was failing in his chest and that his heart was going to stop any damn minute, but it'd be the longest minute in the world, because Tony Stark couldn't possibly get the grace of an easy death. He'd done enough to piss off the deities of your choosing that much that they wouldn't even let him die in peace. He must have been a complete monster in his past life, because, honestly; he didn't really get to be happy, did he?

Steve was staring at him, and Tony felt his throat close over, and he knew he'd breakdown soon. He hadn't slept in...god, it must have been days. Maybe a week. Probably longer. And between the exhaustion and this...it was enough to snap him in half when even hopelessness and torture in a cave in the desert hadn't been nearly enough. Steve was going to say no to him. He shouldn't be surprised, really. Steve probably barely tolerated him. Steve was good and Tony wasn't, and he never should have fooled himself this far. He really shouldn't've. Because he could feel the crushing grief that would leave him completely dead, and then Steve would hate him all the more, the team broken.

All those nights when Steve had thrown Tony over his shoulder basically, or had told JARVIS to inform him he was naked in bed and waiting...it'd been tolerance. Steve was, above all else, a leader. What did you do to keep those you lead in line but make them happy, even as much as you hated them?

But...all those times. Steve's laugh. The way he made Tony sleep in his arms, completely trapped. Some stupidly hopeful part of Tony that made him even more sick at himself insisted that that couldn't be real.

Its voice gets stifled as Tony Stark's eyes prick for the first time in so bloody long with tears. He didn't cry. Not anymore. Not since he was five and his father had belted him for it.

Bloody Howard, Steve's friend and colleague. Maybe it was in Howard's name that Steve put up with him.

Howard has nothing to do with the way Steve shakes like he's breaking apart, or the colour he turns even when they're alone and Tony just looks at him the right way.

Then Steve's in it for the sex, doesn't need or want anything else. Puts up with Tony's delusions because its so much more amusing later.

Wildly, Tony's mind flashed out to who Steve would be laughing about this with. Clint, probably. Bruce was nice to him, though that could be an act, too. Or pity. Thor wouldn't get it, and Natasha, for all her incredibly sharp edges, did seem to occasionally be concerned for his well-being. Even if she was being horrible while doing it.

Tony could see Natasha, just beyond where Steve's hip was at his eyelevel. She looked at him with the closest thing to a smile he'd ever seen her wear. Bruce was smiling, Thor was watching them like he was watching the royal wedding, not a hint of anything but almost childlike wonder and hope on his features. Tony couldn't see Clint; kind of didn't want to, honestly, it was bad enough laying himself out to be crushed like this.

His hands were shaking on the box, and Steve could see that, though Tony also kind of hoped that Steve could also smell it on him that it wasn't because he was drunk-two months of sobriety, thank you very much-but that it was because he was so fucking vulnerable and he was about to collapse like a house of cards.

He kind of wished he had someone like Coulson on his side in this. Threatening to maim Steve if he hurt Tony. Because, sure, it was more likely than not that Steve would get hurt in all this. Tony was willing to admit that. But it was also incredibly likely that no one realized how hurt Tony was, all the fucking time. He'd broken his heart so many times, and had been blamed for it, and Tony could just really use someone to protect him for once. Not even Rhodey would when it came down to it. Steve could smash him to oblivion right now, and there wouldn't be a damn consequence. No one would feel hurt on Tony's behalf, and no one would come to his defense or his rescue. Sure, Pepper would still put up with him and Rhodey wouldn't completely hate him, but...but, really, Tony could be beaten and bruised and broken beyond repair, and no one would save him from Captain America. No one would put up a fight for him. No one cared enough to ever put up a front of it. He would honestly lose every last person in his life.

Steve took in a shaking breath, his eyes glancing down and then back up. He was going to say no. He was going to break Tony's heart.

Tony couldn't-wouldn't-blame him. Surely, somewhere along the line, he'd done something to deserve it. Probably, it was thinking for even a moment that Steve could actually be his. He never should have even thought this. Steve was barely comfortable with saying "I love you", let alone "I do".

In true Tony Stark form, he'd fucked up everything in his life that had kept him on his feet for the last two years.

He deserved it.

"Tony," Tony had to look up at him now, had to take it like a man instead of a fucking coward, "I don't care if it's not...un-American now. I don't care what the President or anyone else thinks. I wouldn't care if it wasn't recognized in New York. If Nick Fury burst in here forbidding it; outlawing it, I wouldn't give a damn. I love you, Tony, and that is the only damn thing I need to know. Of course I'll marry you, you idiot."