Chapter 13
Steve looked up in expectation as he heard the elevator door open. Not every morning, but many mornings, Stark would waltz onto the common area floor, refill his cup of coffee, and chat for a moment before going downstairs to Stark Industries. It was a toss-up whether he would be wearing jeans, work boots and a colorful band shirt, or if he would be putting the finishing touches on one of his perfectly tailored three-piece suits. Either way, he was always perfectly groomed and magazine worthy, even in his ratty old jeans with holes in the knee. Steve didn’t understand how, covered in grime, with grease swiped across one high cheekbone, Stark could always look like he was ready for a photoshoot.
As Bruce came around the corner to the kitchen Steve slumped down and bit and turned back to the eggs he had been cooking. The smile on his face turning into a slight pout. He didn’t notice Natasha watching him from the breakfast nook.
Steve didn’t notice Natasha turning thoughtful eyes from Steve to Bruce and back to the corner hiding the elevators from view. Sweeping her eyes over the counter, Natasha took in the full coffee pot that she had already gotten a cup from, and the glass full of juice that was Steve’s normal morning drink. Steve wasn’t a big fan of coffee, but every morning for the last several days that coffee pot was always filled and waiting for whomever wanted it.