4.
After an hour of tossing and turning, Steve finally gave up, sat up and looked around the bedroom for a clock, but found none. He planned to reach for his cell phone, only at that moment Jarvis answered, his voice quieter than usual:
"Good morning, Captain Rogers. It is now five o'clock forty-eight minutes. The temperature outside is five degrees Celsius and should climb to ten degrees Celsius during the day. Rain is reported for today and it will be mostly cloudy."
He smiled and glanced up at the ceiling, but couldn't find any of the cameras, so he just smiled into space.
"Good morning to you too, Jarvis."
Jarvis was considerately silent for the entire time Steve spent in the bathroom, and only spoke again when he reached the kitchen.
"The delivery man left a present for you from Mr. Stark on the chair. I must warn you though, Mr. Stark has given me clear instructions. If you look like you're thinking of returning it and then 'making a speech', I'm supposed to lock you in your room and not let you out until you obediently promise to keep the gift."
Steve bristled, that sounded just like Tony and he didn't like it at all. He was already preparing in his mind what he would say to Tony if Jarvis let him out of the room; and he cautiously walked over to the chair.
With his finger he opened the paper bag. He blinked. Inside lay a few plain T-shirts, tank tops and shirts, a sweatshirt, three jeans and sweatpants. Another bag contained two pair of shoes, one for everyday wear, the other for running; and the last contained underwear and socks.
"Mr. Stark asked me to find out where you usually shop. He was of the opinion, and I agreed with him, that you would be more comfortable if the clothes were from stores of your own choosing. Although, he did consider for a long time having Armani shirts delivered to you."
That didn't sound so much like Tony anymore. Rather, Steve could imagine Tony buying things of the same quality as his own, only to watch Steve disagree. But he couldn't deny that it was considerate. Tony had surprised him again.
"I'll have to thank him, he does more for me than I'd like," he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was grateful, on the other hand he felt stupid. Not only was Tony letting him live here, but he was buying him clothes? And Steve had no way to repay him, except perhaps to pay for things, but Tony certainly wouldn't accept that.
"I'm sure if you make him a really good breakfast, as he suggested last night, and add a cup of coffee to it, it will be enough as a thank you."
"Will I have something to cook with?" Steve cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. He couldn't imagine Tony at the stove, and he knew from personal experience that takeout was Tony's favorite food. Thus, he doubted that there would be anything in the fridge other than half-empty boxes of chinese.
"The housekeeper doesn't arrive until tomorrow afternoon, so I'm afraid the content of the fridge is very limited."
"Good, never mind. I'll go for a run and buy something on the way back. Does Tony eat eggs?"
"Mr. Stark eats everything except mushrooms and seafood," Jarvis assured him, lighting up a screen in front of Steve with a map of Manhattan, highlighting several routes and grocery stores. "I took the liberty of marking the stores that are opening soon and are right on the routes that New York runners consider the best."
Steve took a cursory look at the routes and picked the longest one. According to Jarvis's calculations, it would take a through runner an hour and a half to circle it. With his speed, Steve estimated half an hour, and that was if he really slacked off.
"What time does Tony get up?"
"Mr. Stark worked two more hours last night and only fell asleep three hours ago. I don't think he'll wake up anytime soon."
"OK. Thank you, Jarvis."
He changed into his new sports clothes and glanced quizzically at his new shoes. They were very comfortable and fit him perfectly. I'm getting spoiled, he thought sullenly, making a mental note to at least try to pay Tony for things. With a smile and the prospect of a nice day, he ran out into the cloudy Manhattan morning.
Steve ended up taking longer than he expected, but he trusted Jarvis' judgment. Besides, Tony himself claimed he rarely got up before nine. And it was only eight.
He stopped quickly in his apartment, just to wash the sweat and dust of the city off him, and then headed upstairs to Tony's kitchen. Water was still dripping from his hair and he was clutching an earful of plastic bags full of groceries. He stopped just as he stepped off the elevator and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I told you he was asleep," Jarvis spoke in a muffled voice. "Where he sleeps, you didn't ask."
Steve walked slowly to the kitchen island and watched the sleeping man. Tony was lying on his stomach with his face turned towards Steve, one arm hanging over the edge of the counter, and a mug and a small brown puddle on the floor beneath it, the smell suggesting coffee.
"Does he sleep here often?" whispered Steve, aware that Jarvis would surely hear him.
"Sometimes, yes. Personally, I think Mr. Stark sleeps well everywhere except the bed," he informed Steve calmly. "Don't wake him. When it gets too uncomfortable or his arm starts tingling from lack of blood supply, he'll wake himself up."
Steve looked suspiciously at the ceiling. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he got the impression that Jarvis was enjoying himself. Much like Tony when he could make fun of someone. Steve sighed and shook his head at that. Jarvis was obviously after his creator.
Steve took a blanket from the couch, carefully covered Tony, and stood over him for a moment. He didn't move, continuing to sleep and sighing peacefully. Steve squatted down, looking into Tony's face. He was relaxed and calm. No mask hiding everything from the world. Just Tony. Tony, with those attractive wrinkles that formed whenever he smiled; and with eyes the nicest shade of brown he'd ever seen.
His hair, which was usually perfectly groomed, now resembled a sparrow's nest, and Steve suddenly longed to touch it and see if it was as fine and smooth as it looked. To sniff them, bury his nose in them and smell them.
He reached out, slowly and hesitantly, trying with all his will to stop. He knew he shouldn't. He knew it. The rational part of his brain screamed at him to stop now. Tony was a member of his team, after all! He couldn't take this kind of advantage of the situation and Tony's hospitality for his own selfish needs. Besides, Tony was the epitome of heterosexuality...
Steve curled his fingers into a fist and lowered his hand again. That thought always worked and made him hold back. He quickly picked up Tony’s mug and wiped the coffee off the floor with a paper towel. Tony took a deep breath, grumbled something, but otherwise kept sleeping and Steve was grateful for it. He needed a moment to get his own emotions under control. He set about preparing breakfast, doing so as quietly as possible. He chose scrambled eggs with chopped vegetables. It was quick, tasty and full of nutrients that surely Tony and his brilliant brain needed.
He tried to concentrate on cooking, to occupy himself with manual labor, but his head was still working at full speed. That he thought of Tony as something other than a friend and a team member was something he realized around the time he began to think of his wrinkles as attractive. The moment he found himself sitting still and just watching Tony. At work, while talking to others, or just sitting and reading something on the starkpad. And the moment he realized he was reacting more harshly to Tony's teasing than he should have.
How many times had he cooled his thirst and his own frustration on him. At the same time, if Tony hadn't always seemed so amused, he would have been thoroughly ashamed. He knew it was wrong to use Tony as a lightning rod, but every time Tony opened his mouth to let out a snide remark, he got angry before he could stop himself. Next time he should stuff it with something...
He sucked in a sharp breath and braced his hands on the kitchen counter, gripping it tightly, thanking God - and Tony's taste - that it was so firm and didn't fall apart in his hands.
Rogers! He cried out in his mind. This was a totally inappropriate idea. And so tempting at the same time... Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come live here after all.
Tony grunted in displeasure and slowly scrambled to a sitting position. Steve turned to him, cup of coffee in his hand, and waited for Tony to wake up enough to notice him. He wiggled his arm, yawned and rubbed his eyes.
"That was a stupid idea," he grunted. Steve smiled, his gaze drifting down to the faint light on Tony's chest. The arc reactor loomed through the fabric of his t-shirt, ever present and protecting Tony's life.
When had he really understood how he felt about Tony?
When he almost lost him in the attack on New York.
"Good morning," he wished him, holding out his hand with the coffee. Tony didn't hesitate, taking the cup immediately and taking a sip. He sighed contentedly.
"Not good, Rogers. Why didn't you wake me up? My hand is completely dead right now," he complained, curling his fingers into fist over and over again in an attempt to get blood flowing. "And you too, Jarvis! I'm degrading you to a toaster."
"Of course, sir, whatever you wish," Jarvis agreed obligingly, and this time Steve had no doubt that the AI was really having fun at Tony's expense. Should that worry him? He didn't know anything about AIs, so he had no idea if Jarvis' behaviour was normal.
"Eggs?" He suggested, trying to divert Tony's attention to something else, and handed him a plate. Tony assessed its contents with a critical eye and took a sniff, whereupon a satisfied sigh escaped his lips.
"I'll keep you here," he informed him, taking the plate and going straight to eating. Steve watched him in amazement, wondering how a man like Tony, who had spent his entire life in high society, could eat worse than pigs in a pen. He stuffed huge mouthfuls into his mouth until at times he feared Tony would choke. Unbelievable...
Steve leaned against the kitchen counter, rested his hands on his chest and waited until Tony had finished, which only took a few minutes. He wolfed down his breakfast at lightning speed and then added more. Steve was glad he liked it and felt a lot better knowing Tony had at least one home cooked meal.
"Tony, I'd like to talk about the clothes," he began, just as Tony put his plate in the sink and wiped his hands on his pants.
"Something wrong? If the sizes or colors don't fit, it's no problem to change it!"
"No, Tony, it's perfect." Steve assured him instantly, smiling. “But…”
"You're not going to return it to me, are you?" He frowned at him. Steve took a deep breath, ready to reply, but Tony was no longer paying attention. Instead, he glanced at one of the cameras.
"I told you not to let him out of the room if he's like this, Jarve. You're fired!"
"Captain Rogers didn't look like he wanted to give anything back to you, sir. He even went for a run this morning in his new clothes and shoes."
"I don't want to return anything, Tony," Steve interjected, meeting Tony's scowl, but it slowly smoothed back out and was replaced by a curious and scornful look. "I need the clothes, I just wanted to thank you and arrange a way to pay you back. I can pay you for it if you agree."
Steve would normally argue. He didn't like charity, he'd been able to take care of himself since he was sixteen and without help from anyone. Almost. But he knew that once he'd disrespected Tony's kindness, he'd have to face his offended male pride. He'd already made that mistake once, Tony had been as offended as a little kid for a week and hadn't spoken to him.
There was no doubt that as much as Tony could get on his nerves, he could also be generous. Last Christmas, he'd come to SHIELD base in a van and brought a gift to every employee and agent. Steve refused his gift. Yes, it was a very thoughtful gesture on Tony's part, but it didn't change his feeling that he was trying to buy everyone off.
"I don't want your money, Rogers. You don't seem to understand the point of the gift. I give you something, you say thank you and keep it. That's all. Tada!"
Tony threw his arms out into space. Steve sighed and figured he'd at least give it a try.
"Thank you, Tony," he bowed his head slightly. "But if there's any way I can repay you... you name it. Okay?"
Tony's gaze drifted down to the pan with the remains of his breakfast, and he reached over and popped a piece into his mouth. He looked pleased, and it made Steve's heart warm. He couldn't help the smile that kept playing on his face. He tried, he really did, but the corners of his mouth were lifting of their own accord.
"I haven't had a proper home-cooked meal since I was sent to boarding school," he uttered thoughtfully, pulling the pan onto his lap and continuing to eat. His gaze was strangely flat, as if lost in thought. "And I have to admit, it's delicious. So if you want to repay me in some way, keep cooking like this."
Steve shook his head at that and smiled indulgently. Nevertheless, he agreed, even though it was, in his opinion, the least he could do.