and an extra side of weasley

Steve knows Tony loves him well before he says it out loud

he feels it when they wake up and Tony threads their fingers together, pulling Steve in and tracing soft, ticklish lines up and down his arm until he laughs, loud and uninhibited and yanks his hand back, burying his face in the soft crook of Tony’s neck

he feels it when Tony leans in and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, so soft it’s hardly more than a breath, after he helps Steve fix his tie before press events and galas and public appearances

he feels it in the way his sweaters start disappearing with frequency, only to be found in the lab, well-worn and smelling unmistakably Tony, like expensive cologne and coffee

he feels it when Tony listens, really listens, without interruption or judgment, as Steve recounts memories with Bucky, his mother, his childhood dog

he feels it in his willingness to share these long-buried pieces of himself

he feels it in the way Tony lets him be small sometimes, despite his size, curling up around him, protective and warm, when Steve has one of those days, one of those very long weeks where everything feels bad and dark and he aches for something he’ll never get back

he feels it in the ease with which they slip into the most mundane things: grocery shopping and bed making and dishes aren’t quite so mundane when you have company, he learns

he feels it in the way Rhodey pulls him aside one day, tells him he hasn’t seen his friend this happy in so long, a subtle look of warning in his eye

he feels it in the promise he makes; he’d never hurt Tony, not intentionally, not ever, and Rhodey nods like he knows

more than anything, he feels it in how safe, how grounded being with Tony makes him feel. with Tony he’s home, plain and simple; he has nothing to prove, nothing to feel but the pure rush of happiness when Tony turns to him one morning, brushes their lips together and says what Steve’s felt, what he’s known all along

I love you