Like What You See (Under the Mistletoe)
This is my Christmas gift to @captainstarkreportingforduty! She's an extremely talented writer, and has just hit over 100 chapters on all the small things as shieldmaidenofrohan over on Ao3! It's a magnificent fluff fest, and I swear that everyone needs to read it: she's the Stony Fluff Queen. You gift the fandom with your work, and I hope this conveys at least a modicum of my own appreciation. :D Merry Christmas!
For the prompt: "Can I open my eyes yet?"
“Can I open my eyes yet?”
“Not yet!” Steve insisted, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Tony – stood just inside the doorway of their tiny little apartment – hadn’t peeked. Tony still had the ball of bubble wrap Steve had frantically thrown at him clutched over his eyes and a fond, if confused, smile on his face.
Steve relaxed a little, and finished grabbing up the wrapping paper scraps from the floor and screwed them up to throw in the bin. He missed, suddenly too nervous to concentrate now that Tony had come home from Bruce’s earlier than he’d anticipated. Steve tore his eyes away from the snow melting in Tony’s hair and surveyed his handiwork for a moment.
He’d spent all day tidying up and using his Ma’s old decorations to bring Christmas to his and Tony’s little apartment, and there was tinsel hung in every place it would stay, there had been so much of it. The tree was plastic and missing a branch or two, the baubles were kinda gaudy and the lights were a quarter bust so their light bounced oddly off the furniture and photos they had. It was chaotic and ridiculous, but it was Christmas – Steve’s first without his Ma, and Tony’s... well, Tony’s first.
“Steve?” Tony’s smile had slipped, the concern flooding in evident without Steve having to turn and look. “Are you o-“
“You can open your eyes.” Steve cut him off, swallowing the ball of nerves lodged in his throat and turning to watch his friend’s reaction.
Tony pulled the bubble wrap away from his face, and paused a moment before he opened his eyes. Steve watched as his mouth fell open, staring in shock at their living room. There weren’t as many presents under the tree as Steve had hoped for, and the cookies had yet to come out of the oven, but Tony’s gaze roved over the mismatched Christmas decorations with something bordering on awe. When he finally looked at Steve, there were tears in his eyes.
“Steve-“ he started, and there was so much emotion in that one word, in his name, that Steve’s heart swelled a little.
“Is it okay?” Steve asked, determined not to drop Tony’s gaze. Tony smiled.
“Okay? Steve, this is perfect.” Tony told him, finally stepping away from the door. His smile turned teasing then, “no mistletoe? Mistletoe kisses are tradition after all. At least as I understand it, Christmas novice that I am.” Tony pouted and batted his eyelashes at Steve, and Steve laughed through the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks.
“Close your eyes.” Steve told him, sounding braver than he felt.
“Aw, Steve c’mon, again-“ Tony began to protest, even though he was grinning, and somehow Steve had never loved Tony more.
“Please, Tony?” Steve aimed for his usual exasperation, but the words came out softly, and a pleased little smile flashed across Tony’s face before he huffed and closed his eyes.
Steve carefully extracted the (slightly crumpled) mistletoe from his pocket, and took a steadying breath as he stood in front of his friend. He willed his heart to slow, feeling like his 14-year-old asthmatic self, asking out Peggy Carter all over again – Bucky had never let him live that down and this would be the same, if it worked. Steve held the mistletoe over their heads and kissed Tony.
Tony froze for a moment, but before Steve could panic and pull back, Tony grinned into it, hands coming up to gently pull Steve down and deepen the kiss. Steve was vaguely aware of dropping the mistletoe to the side, but his hands settled easily at Tony’s waist, and the warmth that had always bubbled up around the brunet settled happily in his chest.
They stopped kissing eventually, it fading into soft brushes and little touches, and Tony leant his forehead against Steve’s. Steve felt as punch-drunk as Tony looked, and they were both grinning. Tony glanced down at the fallen mistletoe and laughed.
“Smooth, Rogers.” Tony teased, but kissed Steve chastely before he could reply.
“Thought it’d be romantic.” Steve muttered, blushing, and Tony’s face lit up in the slightly crooked smile that was utterly genuine and– more importantly– just for Steve. “That okay?” he asked, nervous all over again.
“Perfect.” Tony whispered, before he coughed and stepped back, his cheeks slightly tinged pink in a way Steve hadn’t known they could be. He headed into their kitchen with a silly grin that Steve knew he was returning as he stood there like a lemon and stared after him. “Are there cookies?” he was asking, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.
He’d always loved Tony like this after all, so wholly and with everything he had, ever since he’d met the genius in his freshman year. He hadn’t known it, not back then, not until Sarah Rogers had pinned him under her gaze when he’d brought Tony home with him for his birthday, and said ‘you like him’.
“Of course there’s cookies, it’s Christmas!” Steve called back, moving to follow him, and Tony leaned back through the doorway with a warm smile.
“Well, come on then boyfriend; take me to thy baked goods!”
Okay, so maybe a little had changed.
