Steve’s got a beard.
Frankly, it should be illegal, okay, how good his boyfriend looks right now. Seriously, Tony has to pay attention to a debrief now? Not only has he not seen the man in weeks, long enough for that ridiculous thing to have grown all over the man he adores, but now he has to sit through Fury droning on and on about procedurals.
“Sorry, I only take orders from Cap over here,” Tony says abruptly, and despite himself- Steve smiles back at him. Natasha had asked him once, why he chooses to tease Steve after all this time, when he clearly knows it gets him nowhere. No one knows how to read Steve like he does, though. No one else can see the slight upward tick of his smile, how Steve loves when Tony’s so open about it. About loving him.
Tony drinks in the sight of Steve like a starving man, eyes raking over him shamelessly. Steve’s done something to him, that what he’s considering has more to do with if Steve’s feeling okay, whether he needs a bath, whether he’s got that fancy tea that he likes at home.
His beard is blonde.
It’s unkempt, and he’s pretty sure the only grooming Steve’s done for the day is rinsing his face for a quick second. He’d told Tony one day, that he does that when he knows he’s seeing Tony. If he can’t grab a shower, he’ll still wash his face and make sure he looks presentable. It’s adorable.
Steve looks pretty okay with the distance between them though, focused on the sheet in front of him, only having looked up twice since having sat down. Which, kind of insulting, okay-
“Director, I don’t mean to agree with my antagonizing partner,” and Steve shoots him a look, one meant to be disapproving but far too fond to be anything but affectionate, “But I really think he might need some ROR.”
Bullshit, all he came away with is a cut on his hand, which is like, nonsense, DUM-E could treat that, but it’s going to get Steve near him, so, whatever.
He can’t stop looking at the beard.
Fury rolls his eyes and lets them go, with some huff of a comment, and Tony- he might’ve underestimated how much Steve’s missed him when the he takes him but he hand, drags him to the next room and kisses him senseless.
As in, rough hand on the side of Tony’s cheek, other arm twined around his waist, pulled close but somehow being propped up against the wall, and part of him wants to figure out how this is working physically and the other part of him is kind of just into it, okay.
The beard’s a new sensation. Normally, Steve shaves in the morning and even when he doesn’t get the chance, he just gets a stubble. This is different, though.
“You have a beard,” he says, dumbly, when Steve pulls away to look at him. Like he always does. Fucking softie. Steve smiles like he almost never does, cocky and proud.
He never does smile like that, even though Steve’s probably the only person in the world who deserves to be cocky about his looks literally all the time. But this time, he’s smiling because of the beard. Tony’s mentioned liking beards before, he has one if that’s any indication. And Steve had huffed at the time, knowing one of Tony’s celebrity exes (read: all of them) had had beards. Now, it seems, Steve’s got some assumptions.
“You like it?” Steve’s smiling, and he should be smiling always, okay, should always be looking exactly like that. It’s bullshit, criminal, how soft this man has turned Tony Stark, mush, really.
Still, the opportunity is too good to pass up.
“It’s alright,” he says, casually, “Kinda feels like I’m kissing someone else.”
Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say. Steve’s face crinkles up, like he’s grossed out, and this is what Tony had been going for, the man’s jealous streak a mile wide. It’s all satisfying, the laughter seconds away, until-
Steve plops him down within the second, running to the bathroom to get the razor.
He has to wait a full five minutes to kiss Steve again.
The next time Steve has a beard, he is only complimentary.