I've spent enough time in front of a camera, thanks. [ In fact, posing for demanding photographers is one of the things Steve misses least about being the national face of the war effort. ]
Kitchen fires are expected, [ Steve argues as they continue down the hall, finally nearing the kitchen. ] You start fires in places no fire should be.
Kitchen fires are not expected! In fact, I can safely say that is the area of the house where I've set the fewest fires. See, Steve, we don't cook on an open flame surrounded by rocks anymore, so people don't start as many fires in the kitchen.
[By this point, Tony is gesticulating expansively with the hand he didn't cut open earlier, and as they enter the kitchen, he deliberately points to the electric stove which has no open flame.]
Ooh, definitely the cereal. I know how much you like Pop-Tarts.
-hey, have you ever thought of switching to a Corn Flakes diet? I mean, you seem to have an issue with, you know, being horny all the time. [It's a joke, he doesn't mean it, he likes the horny.]
What's the connection between Corn Flakes and horniness? [ As he goes about pouring Tony's cereal, it occurs to Steve that they could have bypassed a significant amount of animosity if he'd only felt comfortable admitting a reference went over his head. ]
The Kelloggs' guy - and I'm pretty sure this is before your time, even - invented them as part of an anti-masturbation diet. He thought that bland foods minimized sexual arousal. Same thing with the guy who created graham crackers. Of course, I'm not sure enough graham crackers exist to suppress your libido.
[He pats Steve's shoulder fondly with his scarred hand, having somehow managed to take a seat on the cabinet (which he regularly tells the others not to do, but shhh).]
Wow. And I thought Catholic nuns had the market cornered on anti-masturbation ministry. Although... is that why the body of Christ is flavorless? [ Sure, he could have called them communion wafers, or even sacramental bread, but those names simply lack the dramatic flair that Steve prefers.
His hands keep busy as he speaks, plopping a spoon into the bowl and handing it off to Tony, then ripping the silver foil around his Pop-Tart and taking a giant bite out of both at once. ]
Jesus crackers always tasted more like cardboard to me, personally.
[Technically flavorless, but somehow even worse than just being bland.]
At least Corn Flakes have some added sugar. [And now he's talking around the cereal in his mouth.] Don't suppose I could get you to start some coffee, honeybuns?
Since you asked so nicely. [ "Jesus crackers" gets a pure, straight from the gut laugh from him. Fortunately, Steve was raised Catholic: blaspheming is all but second nature.
He's less comfortable with the coffee-making, even as he goes through the motions, because it occurs midway that he doesn't have to ask how Tony takes it. He can't remember when he committed that to memory. ]
What else can I get you to do if I ask nice enough?
[The delivery would be a lot sexier if Tony wasn't still talking through a mouth of cereal, but he's not trying to be sexy, he's trying to be ridiculous.
(Although a corner of his mind is very curious about the answer.)]
[ Practically anything, but Steve isn't about to admit that out loud.
As the coffee brews, he takes a look inside the medicine cabinet. He returns to Tony with a steaming mug and two ibuprofen for the pain Steve can still feel in his own hand. ]
Only time can tell. [ There. That's a safe, cryptic answer. ]
Oh my god, I'm going to nominate you for sainthood. [The sound Tony makes isn't that far off from the kind he makes in bed (or wherever else he happens to be having sex), and only becomes more explicit when he takes a drink of the coffee.] Fuck, that's good.
[He washes down the ibuprofen with another gulp of coffee, then sets the mug down to pick his bowl of cereal back up and finish it. Tony looks a little bit like a kid in his cuffed sweatpants, feet swinging from the counter, but it might be best not to mention it.]
Coffee machine did most of the work. [ Steve mumbles humbly before shoving half a Pop-Tart in his mouth. His face feels hot, and he knows if he looked in a mirror, his cheeks would be a bright, burning pink. Still, he is grateful that Tony's orgasmic noises didn't shoot straight to his dick this time. ]
Pretty sure the Pope doesn't canonize machines. Which, if you ask me, is sheer prejudice.
[God, Tony loves the way Steve blushes. He wonders if it'll stop from prolonged exposure to him - he hopes not, but on the other hand, it does mean prolonged exposure to Steve, which seems like a pretty decent trade-off. Of course, he might die of heart failure before that happens, too. But maybe in twenty years, Tony'll be old and grey(er) and Steve will still look like he's thirty and he won't bat an eyelash at Tony's lecherous old man behavior.
It's a fucking pipe dream, but it sounds nice. Tony makes a face at the soggy cereal remnants in the bottom of the bowl and turns back to the coffee.]
Starting to think I should've had you irish this u- [A sudden terrible realization hits Tony, and he just grins.]
[ Steve's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. He might accept that answer from anyone else, but nobody else has Tony Stark's brain. ] That is not the reassuring answer you seem to think it is.
Just eat your pop-tarts and I'll fill you in later.
[Tony tries to lean in to nudge Steve's shoulder with his own - physical contact is a bit limited right now - but loses his balance and nearly falls off the counter. He is amazingly graceful.]
[ The only casualty of Tony's imbalance turns out to be Steve's Pop-Tart, which falls to the floor as Steve throws both arms out to keep Tony in place. After the frantic moment has passed, he somehow ends up with both palms planted on Tony's thighs. If he's breathing a little heavier and his heart is thumping loudly against his chest, it's the earlier excitement to blame, surely. Nothing to see here. ]
I know it's a big ask, but can we at least try to avoid injuries?
Everything you feel, I feel. Maybe I'm just looking out for myself.
[ Given Steve's history with self-preservation, that argument isn't likely to convince anyone. Still, it's better than admitting that Tony's brush with death left Steve feeling overprotective. ]
You know, we're considered leaders around here. Is motorboating in communal spaces the kind of behavior you want to model?
[ With Steve pressing his face to the top of Tony's head, Tony can probably feel the stupid grin on Steve's face. ]
[Yeah, that argument's going to last till the first time Steve jumps out of a plane. Which, by the way, Tony is not looking forward to experiencing. At least when he does it, he has a full suit of armor and no intention of hitting the ground.]
You're considered a leader. I'm the guy who signs the checks, and I think everyone knows that I'm not a role model.
[Except for Peter, who doesn't even live here. Which is good, because he'd die of mortification if he saw old people having sex.]
[ Steve simply rolls his eyes and gives that little shake of his head that means he can't believe Tony is being so ridiculous. ] You don't get to call me that after taking my virginity. Those are just the rules.
I think that being a hundred-year-old virgin actually proves my point. And don't say 'I didn't have the opportunity', because buddy, there was absolutely fucking happening on that warfront.
-god, now I'm thinking about my dad, why do you do this?
Your dad, may God rest his soul, wasn't exactly picky. I always wanted to wait for the right person.
[ Oh. Oh no. Steve just managed to call Howard Stark a slut and suggest that Tony was the right person all in one go. Neither of which are necessarily false, but both were things he was probably better off keeping to himself. Possibly forever. ]
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Kitchen fires are expected, [ Steve argues as they continue down the hall, finally nearing the kitchen. ] You start fires in places no fire should be.
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[By this point, Tony is gesticulating expansively with the hand he didn't cut open earlier, and as they enter the kitchen, he deliberately points to the electric stove which has no open flame.]
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[ Steve shakes his head as he rounds the kitchen island to explore inside the cabinets. ]
So, what heat-free delicacy can I interest you in? Stale cereal or cold Pop-Tarts?
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-hey, have you ever thought of switching to a Corn Flakes diet? I mean, you seem to have an issue with, you know, being horny all the time. [It's a joke, he doesn't mean it, he likes the horny.]
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[He pats Steve's shoulder fondly with his scarred hand, having somehow managed to take a seat on the cabinet (which he regularly tells the others not to do, but shhh).]
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His hands keep busy as he speaks, plopping a spoon into the bowl and handing it off to Tony, then ripping the silver foil around his Pop-Tart and taking a giant bite out of both at once. ]
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[Technically flavorless, but somehow even worse than just being bland.]
At least Corn Flakes have some added sugar. [And now he's talking around the cereal in his mouth.] Don't suppose I could get you to start some coffee, honeybuns?
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He's less comfortable with the coffee-making, even as he goes through the motions, because it occurs midway that he doesn't have to ask how Tony takes it. He can't remember when he committed that to memory. ]
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[The delivery would be a lot sexier if Tony wasn't still talking through a mouth of cereal, but he's not trying to be sexy, he's trying to be ridiculous.
(Although a corner of his mind is very curious about the answer.)]
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As the coffee brews, he takes a look inside the medicine cabinet. He returns to Tony with a steaming mug and two ibuprofen for the pain Steve can still feel in his own hand. ]
Only time can tell. [ There. That's a safe, cryptic answer. ]
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[He washes down the ibuprofen with another gulp of coffee, then sets the mug down to pick his bowl of cereal back up and finish it. Tony looks a little bit like a kid in his cuffed sweatpants, feet swinging from the counter, but it might be best not to mention it.]
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[God, Tony loves the way Steve blushes. He wonders if it'll stop from prolonged exposure to him - he hopes not, but on the other hand, it does mean prolonged exposure to Steve, which seems like a pretty decent trade-off. Of course, he might die of heart failure before that happens, too. But maybe in twenty years, Tony'll be old and grey(er) and Steve will still look like he's thirty and he won't bat an eyelash at Tony's lecherous old man behavior.
It's a fucking pipe dream, but it sounds nice. Tony makes a face at the soggy cereal remnants in the bottom of the bowl and turns back to the coffee.]
Starting to think I should've had you irish this u- [A sudden terrible realization hits Tony, and he just grins.]
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[Tony's airy tone of voice is enough to indicate that he is 100% up to something, and that Steve should definitely be concerned.]
Just thinking, that's all.
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[Or to literally anyone else who knows Tony.]
Just eat your pop-tarts and I'll fill you in later.
[Tony tries to lean in to nudge Steve's shoulder with his own - physical contact is a bit limited right now - but loses his balance and nearly falls off the counter. He is amazingly graceful.]
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I know it's a big ask, but can we at least try to avoid injuries?
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[Alas, poor Pop-Tart. It's a good thing the pantry is well-stocked.
Tony's just going to rest his forehead against Steve's chest for a moment, though. Just because it's warm and solid and there.]
If you didn't have a shirt on I could motorboat you.
[Wow, imagine what it must be like to be someone with a filter. Not Tony Stark.]
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[ Given Steve's history with self-preservation, that argument isn't likely to convince anyone. Still, it's better than admitting that Tony's brush with death left Steve feeling overprotective. ]
You know, we're considered leaders around here. Is motorboating in communal spaces the kind of behavior you want to model?
[ With Steve pressing his face to the top of Tony's head, Tony can probably feel the stupid grin on Steve's face. ]
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You're considered a leader. I'm the guy who signs the checks, and I think everyone knows that I'm not a role model.
[Except for Peter, who doesn't even live here. Which is good, because he'd die of mortification if he saw old people having sex.]
You're just a prude.
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-god, now I'm thinking about my dad, why do you do this?
[Auuughhhh no make it stop please]
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[ Oh. Oh no. Steve just managed to call Howard Stark a slut and suggest that Tony was the right person all in one go. Neither of which are necessarily false, but both were things he was probably better off keeping to himself. Possibly forever. ]
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