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* * * *

The flight back to New York was eerily quiet. Natasha threw him a look over her shoulder and mouthed say something, but Steve just shook his head. Tony was standing next to him, grasping the handle of the rear hatch like he was ready to flee at any second. He still looked shaken—his eyes screaming with disturbed confusion, and Steve hated himself for being the one who put that look there. His anger seemed to be gone now, though, instead he looked tired... and defeated.

God, why hadn't he told him sooner?

The empty minutes were filled with awkward silence. There was nothing to say.

"ETA five minutes," Natasha informed them quietly.

All of a sudden, Tony spoke up. "I had all these crazy ideas in my head," he said softly—so softly that Steve wasn't sure whether he was speaking to him or not. "How I'd tell you once things got a little calmer."

"Tell me what?" Steve asked.

Tony gave him a long, hard look. "You know what."

And Steve knew, and he was consumed with the duality of relief and shame. How could he be so happy that Tony had fallen in love, too, when he was in so much pain now?

"Is it really too late?"

He hadn't thought it possible for Tony to look even more haunted, but he did. He shrugged apathetically. "I can't trust you. And I can't love you if I can't trust you." Tony laughed shortly then, and shook his head. "Who would've thought? Tony Stark in need of a healthy trust-based relationship, huh?" There was no humor in his voice, though. It was sad and drawn.

"I never lied about loving you," Steve said then, because it didn't matter anymore that he hadn't said it yet. Right now, honesty was the only way to go. Tony needed to hear this. Tony needed to know.

"Loving me?" Tony whispered, obviously hating the weakness in his voice.

"Was there ever any doubt? I went into this mission believing that I wouldn't even like you and that conviction turned on me within a week. I fell for you so fast it was ridiculous."

Tony's jaw clenched. "And yet you never told me."

"I was afraid to lose you. There was every chance that you wouldn't forgive me for this and I... I was selfish. I wanted to be around you for a little while longer. I planned on telling you yesterday."

Tony glanced up wearily, his bleary eyes drenched with exhaustion. "On our not-quite-date."

"Yeah."

Natasha spoke up again, "Two minutes, boys. Better delay the talk until after we catch the psychotic God."

Tony grabbed for his helmet without turning his eyes off Steve. "Even if you did..." He broke off, breathing hard and searching his gaze. "How can I be sure that it was real?"

"It was," Steve replied, cradling his shield with one hand. "Just give me a chance to prove it to you."

The hatch opened, letting a harsh cold wind sweep through the cabin, but Tony kept looking at him, helmet-less, his gaze so intense that a spark of electricity shot through him.

The plane stopped moving, floating in the air. "Drop zone," Natasha yelled over the noise.

Tony's eyes fluttered shut. He was trembling hard, visibly trying to rein in control. Long, heavy breaths rolled off his chest, and he was so gorgeous that Steve wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. "After. We'll talk after this is over," he said finally, and then, like a miracle, a little smile crept across his lips, albeit a tad self-conscious one, which only made Steve love him more. He felt himself nodding numbly, his gaze slowly trailing upward until he was drowning in Tony's beautiful brown eyes once again. God, there were no words to how much he loved this man, and maybe... maybe he could have this. Maybe there was still a chance.