A/N
Dancing. Ironstrange prompt #3, Wednesday.
They were dancing to Alice Kristiansen's To the Moon and Back. Listen if you want ig.
Enjoy.
Summary: They dance after a fight. That's it. That's the fic.
Tony sits on the kitchen floor, leaning against the counter and staring at the fridge, dreaming wistfully about the alcohol that used to reside there. His body itched to get a drink, but he refused, knowing that would fuck up all the progress he'd made these past months.
So he continues to stare blankly at the stainless steel wall. Dreaming, he thought, he's allowed to do. Drinking however did cross a line. Tony did eventually stop thinking of a hard scotch, or a good wine, remembering what happened when he was drunk. Or rather, remembering what people told him he did. And that's the scary part, he supposes, the real reason he stopped. The lack of control, not able to trust his mind.
And this fight with Stephen, it just seems to escalate the urge. But no, he can't drink. Stephen would be disappointed. He would be disappointed. And that's what matters he supposes.
After the urge passes, the overwhelming sadness erupts in his chest, his confusion for the fight. At this point, he doesn't even remember what the fight was about. It's only been a few hours and he already misses his sorcerer.
Really, it was neither of their faults, just stress had made their patience abysmal.
Tony sighs and stands up, trudging his way over to the couch to wallow in self pity until Stephen returns. He hasn't decided whether to apologize or act like nothing happened.
"Fri?"
"Yes sir?"
"Turn on a local radio, I'm in to try something new," Tony muses.
"Of course sir."
A moment later, a popular pop station starts playing through the speakers.
The point of this, he reasons, is to try and get out of his head, as being inside it would be pointless.
He sits back into the cushion and sighs, relaxing. Maybe he'd call Peter tomorrow, give the snark in his soul a good polish. It has been a while.
When he eventually hears a quiet whoosh he sits up, arms on the backrest and legs spread out.
Slow footsteps walk into the room, then a moment later Stephen is beside him.
"Are we going to talk?" Stephen asks stiffly.
"Yes, Stephen. How about I start. I am sorry, but I can't take the whole blame. Though for my part, I am, sorry."
The other man looks at him from the corner of his eye, hands clasped together to hide their shaking.
"I'm sorry too, Tony," He says softly.
They sit like that for a while before Tony grins and laughs.
"We're fucking stupid, y'know that?" He chortles.
Stephen smiles too. "Oh yes I don't doubt that. But we're stupid together, so we can be idiots in love."
"That is true," Tony agrees with a hum.
Suddenly a new song comes on and Tony jumps up, surprising Stephen a little, before sticking out his hand.
"Dance with me," He demands, waving his hand pointedly.
Stephen grins and takes Tony's hand, pulling himself up and stumbling against Tony.
They quickly situate themselves, arms on each others waists and pressed tightly together. Tony pressed his face into Stephen's shoulder while Stephen put his chin on Tony's own shoulder.
The song played a little quieter, likely due to Friday, a romantic at heart that one.
They slowly moved in poor circles, not really trying to dance, just to be close. Tony held Stephen tighter about half way through and let a couple tears fall. "I love you, Stephen Strange. And don't you forget it, you bastard," He growls out.
"And I love you, Anthony Stark, and you better not forget me," Stephen says just as strongly.
They continued dancing until their feet grew too sore to move comfortably, and then they went to bed. Happy.
