inspired by [x]
our war: a steve/tony civil war mix [listen]
I. Depuis Le Debut | 30 Seconds To Mars II. Everybody’s Watching Me (Uh Oh) | The Neighbourhood III. Losing Touch | The Killers IV. Reunion | The xx V. Whispers In The Dark | Mumford & Sons VI. Our War | Neon Trees VII. All This Time | OneRepublic VIII. The Breach | Dustin Tebbutt IX. The Funeral | Band of Horses X. Meet Me On The Equinox | Death Cab For Cutie XI. We Owe This To Ourselves | Anberlin XII. The End Where I Begin | The Script XIII. Heartbeat Slowing Down | The All-American Rejects XIV. Skulls | Bastille
steve thinking it’s absurdly cute that tony’s short enough that he has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss steve
it eventually turns into this thing they do sometimes where tony goes in for a kiss and steve stands on his tiptoes and tony glares and steve raises his eyebrows like the little shit he is until tony says “I hope you know that you’re a bastard and you will have to make this up to me later you dick” and then does a little jump so he can kiss steve
ooo this prompt was yes so much yes
Tony hasn’t been able to take his eyes off Steve all day.
They’re in DC, visiting his friend Sam who he’d—apparently—met just before the whole S.H.I.E.L.D./Hydra debacle for a fourth of July party that just happens to include a whole slew of presents for Steve. All the Avengers are here, plus a few of their satellites, and Sam is a remarkably great host. Tony is charmed, and he’s rarely charmed.
Anyway—Steve. He’d lit up like a Christmas tree the second Sam opened the door, and he’s been glowing ever since. He’s smiling and joking and laughing with his head thrown back so that the plumes of color that form his tattoo are on display, and it’s the most carefree Tony’s ever seen him look outside of their bedroom.
He’s happy that Steve’s happy, really, he is, but there’s a part of him that wants Steve all to himself, that wishes he could make Steve look like this all the time all on his own.
Tony slips inside to relieve himself halfway through the party, and when he emerges, Steve is in the kitchen digging around in the fridge. Tony lets his eyes slip over the curve of Steve’s ass, heat curling low in his belly.
Steve pulls a case of beer out of the fridge, the muscles of his arms sliding underneath curls and splashes of color. When he sets it on the counter, nudging the fridge closed with his hip, Tony pounces. He pins Steve against the counter, hands sliding up so that he can feel the ends of Steve’s hair on his fingertips. “Hi,” he breathes, and kisses him.
Steve’s smile curls against his lips and his fingers wrap around Tony’s waist, pulling him a little closer. “Hi.”
“You’re happy,” Tony observes in between kisses and Steve sighs a little.
“Yeah,” he says, sounding a little surprised. “I guess I am.”
“Sam’s a nice guy.”
“He’s great,” Steve says, immediately and with enthusiasm. “He’s really great, isn’t he?”
Tony huffs, pushing down the little flare of jealousy he feels, and noses at the curl of blue under Steve’s right ear. His next breath shivers somewhat and Tony smiles. “But you still think I’m great too, right?” he asks. It doesn’t come out sounding as much like a joke as he meant for it to.
“Tony,” Steve says, voice going low and serious the way it does when he’s about to say something he means with his whole being, “you gave me a place in the world, you’re everything.”
Tony feels his cheeks heat, and he ducks his head, holding Steve tightly for a moment. “Love you,” he whispers.
Steve turns his head and presses a kiss to Tony’s temple. “I love you, too.”
They stand there for a long time, Steve’s hand tracing gentle lines down Tony’s back—the same exact lines that trace Tony’s skin in fact, while the beers warm and drip condensation in pools on the counter. Finally, Tony turns and presses a kiss to Steve’s mouth, teasing at the ring of his lips with the tip of his tongue.
Steve makes a soft noise and Tony smiles, then starts to slide down his body. “I think now’s a good time for your present.”
Just as he reaches his knees, with Steve’s eyes fixed on him, pupils the size of dimes, the door to the backyard slides open. Sam says, “I know ya’ll are not about to get with it in my kitchen.”
A flush races over Steve’s skin, blending with all the colors of his tattoos into new and continually intriguing combinations. Tony sighs. “Well, now we aren’t.”
Steve clips him across the back of the head and Sam laughs.