He’s drowning, carried away from shore not by waves but by the whispering of sirens, a known danger that even had he wished to turn tail, he could not find the ability to do so. Submerging, water filling lungs and he’s done this before, he thinks, and had someone told him at the time there were a way to fall beneath the waves that was pleasant he ‘d have thought them teetering on the edge of insanity and yet—here he stands, fingers in his hair and back pressed against the cold steel of a workshop table, finding that perhaps there are worse ways with which to feel so breathless.
Words bubble up from somewhere in the back of his throat—singular, one word, a name—and he hasn’t a clue to the fact that he has spoken at all until there’s a response.
Sun dips in through open windows, dust particles visible in the early morning air to fill the space between quiet words and adoring glances. Somewhere in the chatter and lazy movements does Steve find himself situation atop his partner, face no higher than chest height and smile aimed upward on visage he has come to come to find beautiful. A joke is made, laughter falling freely from parted brims and the only response he has is to dip head and press a kiss to the other’s stomach, hands moving to find hips as the nuzzle of nose against skin peeking out from beneath black t-shirt follows.
❝ I dunno, I’m pretty comfortable here. If it bothers you, you could always come to me. ❞
And to his surprise, Tony does. Position shifts to balance on shins as other sits up properly, palms placed on sheets to crawl forward, eyes locked and they’re both sort of grinning, an exhale in the form of a chuckle escaping him when brunet locks nudge against chin in form of a gentle boop. The comparisons he often makes, mentally, between Tony and a feline seem only to be proven correct time and time again—not that he’s complaining, however. Strong hands reach to cup lover’s face, tilting chin upward to tap foreheads together, gaze flickering between eyes and lips, chest raising with deep inhale.
❝ Good morning. ❞ I love you.
❝ Mornin’. ❞ I love you too.
Steve promises he’ll be gone a week at most, when he lifts Tony’s chin up with feathered touch, leaning down to connect their lips. Tony tastes like coffee and motor oil and the Italian they had last night, a murmur of brush your teeth given against brims bearing bruises belonging to nips and bites courtesy of super soldier. Ignored is his comment, in favor of arms wrapping about neck and his own hand falls to it’s usual place upon waist, eyes closing and he’s going to be late and chewed out if he doesn’t hurry up.
❝ Tony, I gotta go— ❞ ❝ Five minutes, I’ll even fly ya out myself. ❞ ❝ —No. ❞
A quick kiss to his lips follows with a murmur of ‘I love you' hands removing themselves from his person and the pout is aptly ignored, smile given in return before he’s gone, expectation being a quick return home.
❝ —And I think we can all say that the nation itself is in mourning for Captain America. Not just an icon, but an inspiration, a role model and a friend to us all. We’ve yet to hear anything from fellow Avenger and boyfriend, Tony Stark regarding his feelings at given time— ❞
