shellhead.
@santacap·
Steve’s holiday tradition isn’t anything Tony’s unaware of. More than that, he actually knew where Steve volunteered during the day, and how long he stayed at the nursery house before returning to his home. At first he doubted Steve wanted to spend the rest of the evening alone - but he didn’t question it too much, knowing they all needed some kind of a break every once in a while (and it’s not like they hadn’t spent the morning together, with the rest of their groups), and it’s not like he had any plans for the evening, either; finding the idea of some actual peace and quiet more than appealing this year.
Anyway - the reason behind the full-research he made on Steve’s holiday schedule is that, well, while accepting that the man needed some time alone, he still doesn’t exactly like the idea of him returning to an empty house, and though he couldn’t do much about the company, he could at least make sure Steve’s mood would… lighten up some, for more ‘selfish’ reasons, like self gratification, and not just from helping others (not that there’s anything wrong with that; on the contrary. He just thinks Steve really could use some actual him time).
Which means: gifts.
Or rather, just one gift, wrapped up all nicely and set on the coffee table in the living room. He could have gone bigger, filled the room with decorations and music and a tree, but that, he assumed, would make Steve feel uncomfortable more than anything. So he… tamed himself, for lack of a better word, getting his friend something smaller instead, with a note attached to the ribbon that was tied around it:
‘ I know some of the things we’ve gone through are unforgettable. Unforgivable. Hopefully one day we’ll be able to look back and laugh about it.
Merry Christmas, Winghead, -T. ‘
Inside the gift, he’d be able to find a large pack of DVDs that includes the complete set of True Blood (and limited edition packaging, too), season 1-7, with behind the scenes bits and bloopers.
Steve unties his boots, toeing them off and placing them on the welcoming mat to the side before hanging his coat up on the rack nearby. It had been a long day, but there was nothing more rewarding than a hard day’s work. Especially honest work, where the reward wasn’t the money, or the food but the company. The giving. Volunteering at a soup kitchen and a shelter might not have been the ideal way to spend the holidays for most people -- away from family and friends, no presents to look forward to, no giant feast to dig into -- but the holidays had never been about the gifts or the food for Steve. He’d never grown up with the ability or option to gift or be gifted expensive presents. They’d never had the money. He hadn’t had the option for large meals either --- especially once the war hit, and he spent his Christmas in the trench or the cold Russian front with fellow soldiers, making a tree out of their weapons and stockings out of their regulation socks. And to be honest --- those were some of the best Christmas’s he’d ever had. It was never about what he could get that Steve loved about the holidays. It was about what you could give. It was about spending it in good company, helping those less fortune and those in need of the kindness of strangers. To put a smile on another person’s face. It might be sappy, it might be tacky in the eyes of some -- but Steve never understood that kind of mentality. What was so wrong, so unappealing about treating others with a bit of kindness?
He manages to make his way over to the couch before settling down in it, lights still dimmed as he takes in the silence of the night, and while it’s a bit lonely, it isn’t suffocating. It isn’t stifling, and Steve isn’t about to go weeping into a cup of coffee as he listens to Sinatra on repeat. He’s actually about to head to bed when he sees it. A carefully wrapped present in his red, white and blue pattern, and Steve doesn’t even have to look at the note to know who it’s from. There’s only one person he knows who can be as obnoxiously obvious about his intentions. (Well, there’s several actually, but there’s only one who can get his point across to Steve without ever needing words.) Steve stares at it for a moment, contemplating, before he reaches out and takes it in his hands. It’s bulky and thick, but not heavy. Giving it a slight shake, he can hear something in it rattle, but it doesn’t sound like anything small. Huh. Just what’d you get me, Tony?
He thumbs the note, pushing it open, and his eyes scan the words, the meaning obvious, the gesture sincere --- and oddly simple. Something Steve can appreciate it. His gaze sticks to the note for a few seconds longer, lips pressing together, but where a couple of months ago there would have been an edge of frustration or awkwardness, a layer of anger stemming from a long unresolved issue ---- Steve feels ... touched. He can’t pretend that it’s all in the past, that he’s forgiven Tony completely for what he’d done --- for what had happened, and the betrayal of trust, but ... It had happened. And while the memory still makes Steve grit his teeth, makes his fists clench when he thinks about it too much, too hard, too long, he doesn’t have the urge to curl his lips back at the sight of Tony and hurt him as much as Tony had hurt him anymore. He sees Tony, and ---- and he can smile. He can laugh with him. They can spend their Friday nights together in companionship, shoulders together, knees knocking, a bowl of popcorn and two boxes of pizza between them as they catch up on their shows.
Steve sees Tony, and he can be Steve again.
It’s enough that Steve has a small smile to his lips as he sets the note down on the table -- and it isn’t even a question about whether he’ll keep it or not -- and starts to unwrap his gift. What he finds inside ... Is not what he’d been expecting.
He flips the box set over in his hands, and when he sees the title --- his lips tug up, an almost exasperated curve to the corners. “Tony, you jokester.” He says quietly to himself, but there’s something soft in the look in his eyes, something fond about the way he runs his fingers over the glossy cover of the DVD set ---- no matter how terrible the actual series may be, and the fact that he’ll probably never open it. Two whole seasons, they’d suffered through it, before they finally called it quits and moved on to something different (and incomparably better). Two seasons of pure banter, witticisms, and criticisms. The very start of their Friday night tradition.
Actually ...
Sitting down on his couch, Steve reaches for his phone in his back pocket. Thank you for the present, Tony, he types out on his phone, and his thumbs hover over the screen for only a split second before he sends off another text, before pocketing his phone and picking up the box set with a smile. Though it wouldn’t be right of me to watch the third season without you.
No. As far as Christmas’s went --- this one wasn’t bad at all.
