tony studies stephen the way he studies anything else: with careful attention, taking specific note in his mind of any and all changes. the shift in stephen's demeanor is impossible to miss with an eye as sharp as his, so tony pockets that information, calculates his next move based on that subtle, notable change.

fingers touch and tony adjusts, meets him halfway by sliding more fingers underneath stephen's, nearly like a dance as he moves closer into tony's space. he's used to this dance with stephen, the push and the pull, their ebb and flow like waves. stephen himself reminds tony of the tides, giving and taking however he feels, and the world around him must adjust. he's the epitome of a force of nature, immovable and true, chaotic and gentle.

he's gazing down at their hands when stephen moves in closer, to the steadying finger to his chin takes him by surprise. he lifts his gaze to him, his brown eyes a little wide, betraying what churns under the surface. underneath tony's chin, the only thing grounding him to this moment is that light, familiar tremble of stephen's hand. the tremor keeps tony aware of how close they are, how the lingering scent of stephen's aftershave is all he can smell, how all he would need to do is turn his head.

so he does. tony's head tilts, angling neatly to one side and pressing his lips tightly against stephen's. he hasn't kissed him in days, but it feels like months as warmth begins to spread from his lips, through his neck, his chest flushing a deep red. tony's free hand reaches up to cradle his head in the bend of his neck, his thumb placed carefully on stephen's cheekbone to keep him there, as though those tides might pull him away and leave tony only with what he can find left behind on this beach.

please let him stay in high tide forever.