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It happens like this.
One moment, Tony’s looking down at his dissertation draft as he walks through campus-- and he just wants to get one thing straight here: he doesn’t do drafts. Ever. But Bruce and Rhodey and Pepper have been up his ass for weeks trying to get him to write and proofread, it’s like they don’t even know him, Jesus-- and the next, he hears a frantic shit, look out!
And then?
Nothing.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Oh my god.”
Through the dim, murky swamp Tony feels like he’s under, that low, panicked voice is the only thing he can make sense of.
“Oh my god, shit fuck damn-- Bucky, are they here yet? Oh my god, oh god, Sam--”
“Man, you’ve gotta breathe or you’re gonna make yourself sick. He’s alive, he’ll be alright--”
“He’s-- he’s gotta be okay, oh my god--”
Tony decides this might be the perfect time to open his eyes and ask what the hell is going on, but when finally gathers all the strength to open his mouth, all he can let out is a whimpering groan.
“Shit,” Tony hears, then there are hands on his shoulder, on his chest, and it feels like they’re everywhere. “Hey, mister--”
“Hngh,” he says.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay? Can you open your eyes?”
He’s trying, damn it.
“Mhhm trynnng.” That’s more like it.
“God... It’s gonna be okay, mister-- the ambulance is on its way. Shit, I’m so sorry.”
Ambulance?
“’mbul’nce?” Tony mumbles, and then with one loud grunt, he opens his eyes.
Oh.
Wow.
“'r you’n ‘ngel?” he asks, because holy shit.
“I’m sorry?”
“Are... y’an a-angel?” Tony squints at the sky. Why is everything so fucking bright?
“No,” the angel says, shaking his head so fast he’s making Tony dizzy-- well, more dizzy than he already is. God, this is worse than his worst hangover. “My god, I’m so sorry, someone’s coming for help, don’t worry.”
“’m I dead?”
“No, no, you’re okay, I hope,” the man whispers, and Tony wants to ask him if he’s sure he’s not an angel because even in the pain and haziness he’s in, Tony’s definitely conscious enough to just know that this is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen
“He’s losing it,” he hears someone chuckle, and-- oh, is he saying everything out loud?
“Yeah, you are, but you’ll be okay. Stay with me--”
“‘kay,” Tony says, because his head really hurts and he just wants to close his eyes again, and Not-An-Angel is so gorgeous Tony wants to cry. Staying with him sounds like the best idea ever.
The chuckles turn to full-blown laughter, and Angel just looks over his shoulder. “Sam,” he hisses, but the laughter just gets louder. Tony’s brain doesn’t like it.
“Steve, come on,” someone says. Probably this Sam.
“Not now,” the man replies.
Steve?
“Yeah?” the blond says, and shit, is Tony still saying everything out loud? “Y’still are. Goddamn it, where’s the ambulance-- Bucky!” Steve yells, and Tony whimpers at the sound. “Oh god, shit, I’m sorry. Does it hurt? I’m so sorry.”
“Wha-- wha’ happn’d?” Tony groans, and the blond’s eyes go wide in distress.
“I hit you in the head with my football! God, I didn’t mean to-- it was an accident! Bucky said something and I got distracted, and I didn’t throw it right and then you were just there and I’m so sorry!”
He looks like he’s about to cry, and is his jaw trembling? Tony lifts his arm to touch his face, but only gets halfway before his muscles just give up. “’s alright,” he mumbles, and Steve still looks so heartbroken, it makes Tony giddy. “’f this’s wut I wake’p to, y’can hit me’ll th’times y’want.”
“Holy shit,” the other voice cackles of delight.
“Sam!”
“What? He’s obviously not hurt too bad--”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know he’s more than alright, the way he’s drooling over you.”
“‘m not droolin’,” Tony mumbles. Steve’s face is bright red and he keeps looking away every couple of seconds, though, so maybe he is, but he just got hit with a football, for god’s sake, so excuse him--
“Oh, here they come,” someone calls out, just as Tony begins hearing sirens in the distance.
“Don’ wanna go t’ a hospital,” he whines, but Steve shakes his head.
“You were... you were out of it for a couple of minutes. God, I feel like shit--”
“How d’ya think I’feel?” Tony groans.
“Oh god,” Steve says, and his voice gets even lower and sadder, even though it hadn’t seemed possible a moment before. “You’re right. It’s not even-- I shouldn’t be complaining...”
“Hey, I didn’t--” Tony starts, but then Steve’s moving away and there’s more people, and they’re probably the paramedics, he knows that, but everything’s suddenly too close and the sky is still so fucking bright and he doesn’t know anyone here.
“Sir,” he hears, clear above the chaos and the pulsing in his brain. “Sir, what’s your name?”
“T-Tony,” he says, forcing himself to breathe even though his head still feels like it’s getting tossed around inside a jar.
“Alright, Tony. We’re going to get you to a gurney and a hospital, okay? You’re going to be alright.”
“Know that,” he snaps, because Steve told him that already. “St’ve tol’ me ‘lready.”
“Steve?” the paramedic asks.
“Yes?” Tony hears, from high above his head, but then he tries to turn and fuck--
“Ow,” he groans. Christ, did he get hit with a rock?
“No, it was a football, Tony. I’m so sorry--”
“There’ll be time for apologies later,” the paramedic cuts in. “He’s probably not dying, but we should still get him in the truck and get him to the doctors.”
“Can I come?” Tony hears, and then... there’s Steve’s again, big and blond and stupidly perfect.
“Yeah,” Tony says loudly, in lieu of nodding.
“You with him?” the paramedic asks.
“No.”
“Not yet,” Tony mutters, and Steve makes a sort of squeaking noise that should not be so attractive, really. Tony’s definitely not thinking straight.
“Please,” Steve pleads, “I’m the one who hit him, I feel so horrible.”
“Y’need t’stop sayin’ th-- hey, who’s pickin’ m’up?” Tony says, and then the next second he’s on a gurney and in the truck, and he can hear Steve talking-- to all his friends, probably, even though Tony didn’t see any of them-- before he’s back by Tony’s side and they’re off.
“So,” the paramedic starts, all brisk and business, “first thing’s first. Mister Tony--”
“Stark. M’name’s Stark.”
“Sharon,” she points to herself. “Alright, Mr. Stark-- tell me what hurts.”
“Jus’ m’head,” he says, and he’s trying to ignore the brooding man next to him, he really is. But that face...
The paramedic takes care of that for him, shining a light in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
He groans and tries to push her away, but she just pats his arms down firmly. “Yep. Hurts lik’a bitch, though,” Tony says when she’s done, and when Steve sighs like a kicked puppy, he decides enough is enough.
“Hey,” he waves a hand in the blond’s general direction. “If y’keep lookin’ at me like that, ‘m gonna think y’did this on purpose.”
Steve suddenly looks furious. “I would never--”
“For some reason,” Tony sighs, “I believe you. Jus’... stop with th’frowny face, and we’ll call’t equal.”
“How-- how is that equal?” Steve stutters.
“Well, not equal equal,” he replies, throwing his hand around again. “But... y’know what’d really make m’feel better?”
The blond leans forward, looking eager as anything.
“Gimme a smile,” Tony says, and Sharon barks out a laugh when Steve shifts in his seat.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Ab--absolu... yep. Jus’ one, pretty please?” Tony asks, drawing out the last syllable.
“You need to rest, Tony.”
“If y’say no, ’m gonna tell ev’ryone y’cried on th’way to th’ hospital.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Tony grins. “Uh huh. And I’d sell it, too-- ‘m a great actor.”
“So am I,” Steve counters, narrowing his eyes. “My little ‘frowny face’ got to ya, didn’t it?”
“Please,” Tony rolls his eyes, biting back the groan at the pain that shoots through his skull. “I dun’ even know you, ‘n I know y’ve got no poker face. Those eyes...”
“Tony.”
God, is that blush never going to stop being so hot? “Steve,” he grins.
“How did I end up here?” the blond sighs.
“Y’knocked me out wi’yer ball.”
Sharon sniggers into her vest, and then Steve starts laughing so hard he’s almost doubled over. His hair is inches away from Tony’s fingers, and fuck, the rush of want that goes through Tony almost leaves him breathless.
“Jesus,” Steve wheezes, eyes still warm and bright as they meet Tony’s again. “Are you always like this?”
“M’friends says I’m worse.”
“I can’t imagine that’s possible,” Steve says.
“Stick around’n you’ll find out.”
“Alright, Mr. Stark,” Sharon cuts in, patting Tony’s arm. “Good news is, it’s probably just a concussion--”
“From a football?” Steve’s not smiling anymore. Fucking footballs. Tony hates them.
“You’d be surprised how hard those things can hit. Especially when some of the bigger guys like you are throwing them.”
“How is that good news?” Steve asks.
“Because it could’ve been really bad news,” she replies.
“There any bad news?” Tony jokes. “W’ll I ever walk ‘gain, Doc--”
“That’s not funny,” Steve says.
“Kinda funny.”
“The not so bad news,” Sharon replies, “is that you might have to stay overnight, depending on what the doctors say.”
“G’tta call Pep,” he tells them. “Don’t know any’a my info.”
“Worry about that later, alright?” Sharon says, as the truck doors open and Tony is wheeled out. “And you,” she lowers her voice and points at Steve, “don’t let him get away.” A breathy okay is all Steve manages to say, but the blush on his cheeks leaves Tony feeling ridiculously relieved.
“Unless he turns out to be an asshole,” she continues, with a pointed look at Tony, “he wouldn’t have been flirting if he was attached.”
“’M not attached,” Tony assures her. And Steve, hopefully. “Pep’s just m’friend.”
“Good-- you weren’t being very subtle with those eyes. And watch that arm next time, big guy. Good luck,” Sharon waves, and then she’s gone.
“Why’m I still on this?” Tony asks once they’re inside. He tries not to focus on everything passing by because he feels a lot better than he did earlier, but his head’s still trying its damnedest to make him think the world’s spinning.
“I’m pretty sure you’d fall on your ass if you tried to walk,” Steve answers, “no matter how good you think you feel. It’s a safety precaution, Tony.”
“‘s too late for safety pr’cautions.”
“Still--” Steve begins, but then a nurse stops beside them to tells him he can’t go beyond that point, and Tony tries hard to quell the admittedly irrational jab of fear at being alone.
“You’ll be fine, Tony,” the blond smiles, brushing Tony’s fingers with his own. “I’ll see you when you come back out.”
“Get Pep here,” he says, reciting her phone number with perfect accuracy--he’s a genius, after all-- before the doors close behind him and he’s wheeled further into the hospital.
- - - - - - - - - -
Pepper’s the only one in his room when they bring him in some time later, but Tony doesn’t know how long it’s been, seeing as all he remembers is a blur of bright lights and the bliss of pain medication as it kicked in.
“Where’s Steve?” he asks immediately. “Is he still here? You didn’t send him off, did you? He told me he wouldn’t leave--”
“Breathe,” Pepper orders, fingers never breaking their steady taps on her phone. “Why are you still in a bed?”
“They don’t trust me to walk. But I’m pumped full of meds, and nothing’s topsy turvy anymore, so I should be clear to sign off today.”
“Yeah, Doc said so.”
“Now where’s Steve?” Tony asks, because Pepper’s one of his best friends but she’s not the person he’s almost been jumping out of his bed to see.
“I sent him down to the cafeteria. He called while I was in line at Starbucks, so he owes me. Really, Tony, I thought you’d grown out of this?”
“Grown out of what? This was all Steve, Pep, and that Bucky guy who distracted him. But mostly Steve, and those arms that just--”
“I knew it,” she grins. “The second I saw him, I knew you’d be a goner.”
“Yeah, well he literally knocked me off my feet. Took my breath away, and all that.”
Pepper swats Tony’s arm as she giggles, climbing on the end of the bed to waggle her eyebrows. “Tell me about it?”
“I might’ve... called him an angel when I woke up,” he admits, and Pepper laughs so hard she almost falls off the side. It’s always been one of Tony’s favorite sounds, so he thinks he can begrudge her for it just this once, even if it’s at his expense.
“Um... hi?”
Both of them turn to the door, and Tony can’t control the smile when he sees Steve standing there. “I hope one of those is for me,” he points to the cups.
Steve shakes his head. “Sorry, people with concussions are not allowed caffeine.”
“Yeah, well it’s your fault I’m here,” Tony accuses. “The least you could do is bring me something.”
“I did! Look--” Steve says happily, pulling out a tiny plastic cup from the cup holder. “Jell-o!”
“Fuck that,” Tony groans, and Steve’s face freezes for a second before it just falls.
Shit.
“But I’m-- I’m starving. Kind of, ” he backtracks quickly. “So I guess that’ll do, Toss it over, big guy.” He catches the cup when Steve obeys, and tears it open, wrenching the plastic spoon from the side. It’s just as awful as he remembers, but he forces himself to give Steve a smile of thanks, and when the blond returns it Tony thinks it might’ve all been worth it.
Pepper’s smirking into her coffee, though, and Tony’s confused until he turns back to Steve and sees his smile grow to a mischievous grin.
“Told you I was a good actor too,” is all he says, and Tony throws the plastic spoon at him when everything clicks.
“You ass!” he crows. “Jesus, why am I getting screwed, huh? I’m the victim!”
“It really is good for you, y’know,” Pepper offers, and Steve gets closer, nodding.
“You should take care of yourself, Tony. We don’t want anything else to happen,” he says, and Tony can’t even say anything to that because Steve’s so close and fuck, he can see the man’s eyelashes from here. He’s even more beautiful now, if that’s possible. “Oh, and Sam and Bucky are outside-- they wanna meet you.”
“Your accomplices?” Tony asks, but Steve just rolls his eyes.
“They both feel kinda bad--”
“They should, and you’re all lucky I’m not billing you.”
“Tony,” Pepper warns, when Steve’s smile wavers again.
“I’m kidding,” he says, holding the blond’s eyes until he sees them go bright again. “I’ve got money coming out of my ass--”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
Tony shrugs. “Such is my curse. Gotta have something to balance out my good looks.”
“Sure, Tony,” Pepper and Steve say together, and when they grin at each other Tony knows he’s really screwed.
“Bring them in, then,” he sighs, waving his hand at the door, and the two men that enter are shorter than him, but in no way small. Tony wonders if there’ll ever be anyone not taller than him.
“This is Sam and Bucky.”
Oh, right. Sam. The laughing one. He’s holding up a bound stack of papers in greeting, and--
“Oh shit, my dissertation!”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “I don’t think anyone remembered you had it when it happened, and we only saw it after they’d taken you.”
Tony holds out his hand. “You didn’t read it, did you?” he asks.
“Couldn’t get past the first sentence. Are you sure you didn’t already have a concussion--”
“Sam,” Steve growls.
“--because I don’t see anything in there that resembles human thought.”
“Are you a scientist?” Tony asks.
“No.”
“Then don’t worry about it.”
Sam shrugs. “Fine with me. Here ya go.”
“Thank you,” Tony says politely, because Pepper is looking expectantly at him. “And you-- Shaggy,” he calls out to the other man, who glares. “You must be Bucky?”
“The one and only.”
“Yeah, thank you for the lovely concussion.”
“Steve’s the one who threw the ball,” Bucky counters, crossing his arms and looking for all the world like it’s his day that’s been ruined. “And you’re the one readin’ and walkin’, who does that?”
“Fine,” Tony sighs, “ I’ll give you this one. But only because you’ve given me an excuse to never leave my lab again.”
Pepper doesn’t even look up from her phone. “As if.”
“Why do I feel like I’m the only one who has no actual control over my life, hmm?” he asks her. “You and Bruce and Rhodey won’t get off my ass about this dissertation-- y’know, this is actually your fault.”
Pepper just rolls her eyes.
“It’s my fault,” Steve says. He can’t even look Tony in the eye-- oh God, not this again-- and he looks so small, despite being taller than everyone in the room, that Tony can’t stop himself from reaching out to touch his arm.
“Stop it,” he says softly. “It’s my fault, too--”
“No it’s not, you were just walkin’--”
“I should’ve been looking out--”
“-- and I was the one who threw it--”
“-- see, this is what I get for going outside--”
“God,” Bucky groans, loud enough to break through their rambling. “Just go ‘head and suck face already, we all know you’re dying to.”
Sam chokes on air, while Pepper’s phone falls from her hands and onto the bed as she lifts her hands to stifle her gasping laughs.
But Steve only squares his shoulders and grinds his jaw. “Out,” he tells Bucky, low and serious, and Tony tries not to shiver at the sound.
“Steve--”
“Out. You too, Sam.”
They leave the room with matching frowns, and when Pepper suddenly looks wary, Tony only waves her away with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He knows he’s not in any danger but he also knows they really, really need to be alone. “So, uhh...” he says softly, the moment the door closes gently behind Pepper. Steve just stares at him. “You know I don’t actually blame you, right?”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m kind of fucking glad it happened.”
The corner of Steve’s lips turn up ever so slightly. “Why?”
Tony takes a breath. “Okay, first, I need to know if I’m, uh... reading this wrong.”
“Reading what?”
“This... this thing. You and me.”
“This should be crazy,” Steve shakes his head. “We just met, and I put you in the hospital--”
“To be fair, a lot of people put me here--”
“-- but if you’re reading it the same as me, I hope not,” he says, and Tony wants to kiss him right then and there.
“Thank god,” he sighs. “Now that we've got that out of the way...” he holds out his hand, “Tony Stark, native Manhattanite. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, and current grad student in Engineering. I've got three Ph.D's, and in five weeks, I'm going for my fourth.”
Steve's face is an absolute wonder, all wide blue eyes and deliciously pink cheeks. “Four?”
“I get bored.”
“Gosh... Well, Steve Rogers,” he takes Tony’s hand, “born and raised in Brooklyn--”
“Are you shitting me? Brooklyn--”
“It’s better than Manhattan--”
“You wish--”
“Stop interruptin’ me. You're ruining the mood.”
“What mood? I’m in a hospital--”
“Anyway, I’m... I'm an art major--”
Tony feels his lips quirk up into a familiarly wicked grin. “Ooh, Mr. Rogers, wanna draw me like one of your French girls?”
“Tony--”
“I’m not kidding.”
“And I'm also on the football team.”
“Really?” Tony feigns shock. “The football team? Who’d’ve thunk it, hmm? Color me surprised.”
Steve swats his shoulder gently. “God,” he breathes, “I thought you couldn't possibly get worse, but you were right--”
“I told you. Too late for take-backs, though!”
“Why would I? This'll be a nice story to tell people,” Steve says.
“You know,” Tony points out, “you're actin’ pretty smug for a guy who almost cried on the way here--”
"I did not, you liar."
“Say what you want, but those baby blues looked ready to cry me a river.”
“Like you and your moonin’ and droolin’?” Steve smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, and Tony doesn’t even hide the way he stares at all muscles bulging out in front of him.
God, he really lucked out today.
“Wh-- Tony, getting knocked unconscious is not lucking out.”
Tony just shrugs. “When I get a gorgeous blond out of it, it sure is.”
“Are you sure you’re completely lucid now?”
“Just get down here and kiss me,” Tony orders with a wicked grin.
Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re so bossy.”
“This isn’t even on the plane of how bossy I can be, baby.”
“Is that so?”
Tony makes grabby hands-- he has no shame. “You’re stalling, stop stalling.”
“Fine,” Steve sighs, and leans forward until his breath caresses Tony’s face.
“Plant one on me, sweetheart.” Tony orders, but can’t hide the whimper when Steve chuckles.
“For your troubles,” the blond says, pressing a kiss to Tony’s cheek and oh god, should Tony’s body feel like it’s going haywire? Steve’s lips are soft and warm, and he smells like laundry and sun and freshly cut grass.
It’s utter perfection.
He swears it lasts for years, but then Steve pulls away and it’s too much and not enough all at once. When Tony’s mind comes back on, the machine beside his bed is beeping frantically, which makes Steve laugh-- cheeky bastard-- and Tony just wants more of everything.
“Not one word,” he hisses. Steve just leans in again to press one last, chaste kiss to Tony’s flushed skin.
“That’ll have to do for now,” Steve replies. “Doesn’t sound like you heart can handle any more.”
Tony groans. “I will kick you out of this room.”
“No you won’t.”
“You’re being too damn smug right now, y’know?”
It’s Steve’s turn to shrug. His smile is so bright, it should be illegal. “I think I’m entitled to a little smugness, considering the day I’ve had--”
“The day you’ve had?” Tony snaps. “It’s your fucking fault that we’re even in here!”
“Hey, what happened to ‘lucking out’?”
“I sure as hell don’t feel lucky right now.”
“Liar,” Steve says, “your insides are practically meltin’, mister.”
Tony scoffs. “I like you better when you’re not talking.”
“Wanna shut me up?”
“Fuck yes-- get down here.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
The sun’s gone down by the time they all leave the hospital, and now that Tony’s walking all by himself-- he’s so proud-- he can finally appreciate just how tall Steve is.
Which is an understatement, by the way. Because Steve is massive.
And the best thing is that Tony can touch him all he wants. Which he’s doing now.
Excessively.
“Jesus,” Bucky swears, but Tony can barely hear him-- Steve’s a pretty fucking amazing kisser. “Is this what it’s gonna be like when we meet up now?”
“No, Bucky,” Steve pulls away, and if Tony were any less mature, he’d be whining. “This isn’t all it’s gonna be. You-- Tony, hey-- you know me.”
“I wanna know you too,” Tony says. Pepper and Sam snicker loudly, but Tony really couldn’t care less. He just wants to be alone with Steve again.
“Tony,” Steve jostles him gently. “It won’t be just this, right?”
“‘f course not,” Tony declares emphatically, and suddenly he’s more excited than he thinks he’s ever been. “We’re-- we’re gonna go out and eat and hold hands and, and oh my god, we’re gonna dance--”
“It’s the meds,” Pepper smirks. “They gave him a full dose for the ride home.”
“Pepper,” he gasps. “Pepper, look-- Steve! He’s my new beauuuuu--”
“That’s lovely,” she laughs.
“Yes, he is lovely. And you’re lovely too, Pepper-pot, and Sam’s lovely because he gave me back my dis-- diss... disssssertation. Even Bucky bear here--”
“Bucky bear?” Sam snickers.
Tony nods urgently. “He’s a softie, underneath all that scruff. I can tell.”
When he hears soft chuckles beside him, he turns to find Steve with the dopiest grin on his face. “But you,” he says, “you’re the loveliest, baby.”
“Thank you,” Steve replies.
“Thank you for knockin’ me out,” Tony pats his flushed cheek. Sam laughs harder, and Pepper rolls her eyes. Bucky just rolls his eyes, and taps Steve’s shoulder.
“We should go,” he says, and Tony wraps his arms around his blond’s neck.
“No no no, don’t leave me,” he whines.
“Tony--” Pepper starts.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Steve says, “but you really need some rest.”
“I need you.”
“Jesus,” Tony hears someone say, but then Steve smiles and what was he thinking about?
“Where’s your phone, hmm?” Steve asks, and when Tony shrugs, Pepper pulls it out of her purse. Ah, how Tony loves Pepper! She’s so helpful.
“Thank you,” Steve takes it, pressing a couple of buttons on the screen. “There-- I put my phone number. Now once you get home and feel better, you can text or call me whenever you want.”
“Yes,” Tony almost squeals. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant! You’re a genius, sweets! ‘Kay, go home now, I wanna call you,” he rambles, and why is everyone laughing now?
“Alright, Tony,” Steve grins, then presses a soft kiss to Tony’s lips. “One more for the road.”
Pepper leads him towards the black car parked to the side, and Tony waves all the way there. “Bye, sunshine!” he cries, and then he’s pulled into the warm seats inside.
“You’re so special sometimes,” Pepper mutters when Happy drives off.
“‘Scuse you, Pepper-pot. I’m Tony Stark-- I’m special all the time.”
“Okay, Tony.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Tony holds out until two in the morning.
Pepper’s knocked out next to him on the sofa, but Toy Story’s only halfway done, and Tony can’t go to sleep for another half hour. Fucking concussion, he curses, but when he remembers-- in hazy, grainy detail-- how Steve’s face had looked as he’d pressed his number into Tony’s phone, he finally gives in and reaches for his phone. By the time he reaches the contact labeled Steve :), he’s said ‘fuck it’ a dozen times, so he writes the message and puts it down before his hands can start shaking.
2:06 am : you said whenever i want
The scene on TV isn’t over before his phone vibrates, and Tony’s so relieved, he doesn’t even wonder what Steve’s still doing up.
2:07 : I meant it.
2:07 : How do you feel?
2:08 : like my eyes want to burn themselves shut
2:08 : save me im so tired oh my god
2:08 : When is it okay to sleep?
2:09 : less than half an hour
2:09 : watching toy story probably wasn’t a good idea
2:09 : all the brightness is only makin it worse
2:10 : I can imagine.
2:10 : I’m glad you’re gonna be okay, though.
Tony has to smother his giddy giggles so he doesn’t wake Pepper, and he settles for grinning like an idiot.
2:10 : thanks to my happy pills ill be good as new tomorrow
2:11 : If you want, I can stop by your place after class? Maybe bring you a burger?
2:11 : Only if you're okay with it. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable...
that's fine, is all Tony writes, and hopes to God it doesn't sound too eager. He's been trying to figure out a way to ask when they'd see each other again, and now he's more than a little happy at knowing that Steve seems to be just as eager as he is.
Is three good for you? Steve writes.
2:12 : more than alright big guy
2:13 : fuck it i cant stay awake anymore
2:13 : im sure throwing in the towel a couple of minutes early wont kill me
2:14 : plus pepper will keep me alive
2:15 : Be careful, then. I'll see you tomorrow.
2:16 : you better ;)
“You couldn’t even wait a whole night, could you?”
Pepper’s voice is soft and low, but in the silence of his living room, it’s loud enough to make him start. Her eyes are barely open-- so are his, to be honest-- but the sleepy smirk on her face tells him she knows exactly what he’s doing.
She always has.
“He did say whenever,” Tony shrugs.
“Somehow, I don’t think he thought you’d actually text him whenever.”
“Well, he doesn’t know me that well... yet,” he leers, and Pepper rolls her eyes.
“Okay, you really need sleep, and at this point I will pay you to go to bed. Leave your phone here, though-- God knows you won’t get any if you take it with you.”
“Y’know, I feel like half the time we spend together is just you telling me what to do,” he sighs, and waves the phone in his hand as he stumbles to his bedroom.
“Only half?” Pepper scoffs, but doesn’t move to take it from him. “Whatever makes you feel better, Tony.”
A mumbled ‘night’ is all he says, and by the time he spreads himself out on his cold, rumpled sheets, the phone lights up with a new message.
2:16 : So bossy.
2:18 : Goodnight. :)
Tony falls asleep with a smile on his face, and dreams of blue eyes and footballs.