( TONY STARK. ) BUILTAGAIN
IN ALL THE TIME THEY’D KNOWN EACH OTHER, Steve had never been able to keep a lie going. Even half truths wormed their way onto his face, betraying him in soft smiles like the one he now hid with action. To the untrained eye, he appeared earnest, collecting the mess Tony trailed in his wake where he’d weaved back and forth across the lab half a hundred times. The heat of his gaze was distracting, no matter how stubbornly Tony situated himself, staring with too much intensity where his hands worked. He could practically feel the trail his eyes took as the clatter of his self-imposed busy work fell silent, leaving only the click and thunk of Tony’s process to fill the hull of his lab.
For one so easily lost in his work, this was excruciating. With a frustrated huff in defeat, he slapped the tools back onto the table top, irritation stitching together the pointed frown as he turned to serve Steve a look.
“ I can feel you staring. ” It was then Tony knew for certain that all semblance of productivity was lost on his now, even where he might have played pretend at it for the sake of his pride. Stark tilted up onto his feet, crossing the space in sharp steps before he settled on the tabletop across from Steve, palms splayed back under his sloped weight before he tilted his head inquisitively and not altogether punitively. “ You’re up to something. Better just fess up now. ”
It was a fascinating thing to watch, Tony Stark losing his focus. His brain worked a mile a minute and when it was caught on something, Tony was like a dog with a bone, not giving up, not seeing the rest of the world until he was finished with his new idea. Steve could often slip into the workshop unnoticed and tuck himself into a corner of the room with a sketchpad and a sandwich while Tony worked away for hours at a time. It was one of Steve’s favourite qualities of Tony, despite it having been the cause of many of their arguments -- both of them as stubborn as each other in that regard. But sometimes, Steve liked earning the honour of being distracting enough to snag the attention of that big brain ; a worthy enough subject that Tony could be drawn away from the next thing on his agenda. Steve was never very subtle when he was being deliberate.
He could practically count down to the moment when Tony lifted his head and shot an irritated look Steve’s way. The expression made him bite at his bottom lip in an attempt to stop his smile from stretching too wide and when that failed he pressed a hand over his mouth and leant forward on that elbow, aiming for casual and failing miserably, blue eyes still shining with mirth. He was very aware that he should feel bad about what he was doing - Tony’s time was quite literally worth A LOT of money, but he wasn’t doing it out of spite, or maliciousness, so he figured he could spare himself the guilt. Getting on Tony’s nerves was nearly second nature now and one of the foundations of their entire relationship. Steve was convinced - in fact he knew - that Tony liked the game of it when it was playful like this anyway.
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