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Tony doesn’t even know how he ends up with the stupid thing.
But Pepper’s had a weakness for cats for as long as he’s known her-- ever since I was a baby, she’d told him once-- so it doesn’t surprise him when she comes into his apartment one day with a black kitten curled up in her arms.
“He was all alone by the side of the road!” she almost wails, and Tony just stands in his kitchen as she then proceeds to wash him in the sink and bundle him up in an old towel.
“You keeping him?” he asks, because really, what’s one more cat for her collection?
“I have two already, Tony, and they’re old. This one’ll be rowdy soon, I can’t keep him-- no matter how cute he is. I already have enough company,” she says, shaking her head, and there’s a sudden gleam in her eyes that he doesn’t like one bit.
Oh.
Hell no.
There’s no way she’s suggesting what he thinks she is.
“Then what’s the plan?” he still asks, just to give her one more chance to not say it.
“You should keep it,” she suggests, all smiles and high pitched coos as she holds up the kitten right in his face.
“No.”
“Tony--”
“Wh-- it’s a cat!” Really, Pepper should know better.
“I think you could use the company.”
“Yeah, well I prefer my company with two less legs and abs I can lick, if you know what I mean.”
Pepper rolls her eyes. “Funny, I haven’t seen anyone come around in a while.”
“Well, that’s-- that’s...not the point. I’m not gonna keep a fucking cat.”
“Why not? You’d make a good owner,” she says, and Tony laughs so hard he has to put coffee down to keep it from spilling.
“Pep, I’d end up killing it!”
Pepper scoffs. “No you wouldn’t. Just feed it and talk to it, and set reminders that you’ll listen to.”
“I can barely take care of myself--”
“Then you’ll get better at it. Having something to take care of will teach you some responsibility.”
“Why are you talking to me like I’m a child?”
Pepper smiles. “Because most of the time, you still act like one. Besides, isn’t he cute?”
The cat is cute, stumbling on top of his counter on his short, stumpy little legs, and those eyes-- big, green, and already too smart for his own good-- are almost too big for his face
He’s really fucking cute.
Damn it.
“I’m not going out to buy all the shit he needs,” he sighs, because fighting Pepper almost never ends well.
“It’s all online, you’ll get them by tomorrow. Oh my god, Tony, you’re going love having a cat,” she squeals, with a happy little jump.
Fat chance, Tony thinks.
- - - - -
No one is more surprised than Tony when the cat-- Jarvis, he’d named him, that first night after Pepper had left-- makes it to a week, and then a month.
And then a year. And then two more.
And yeah, life’s pretty much the same as it’s always been, except when it’s not.
Because Jarvis?
He’s a little shit.
Tony’s damn lucky he’s a billionaire, because he’s pretty sure his cat was born to ruin everything. It pisses on half the surfaces it finds, and claws the other half. More than once, Tony’s come home to shredded pillows, the smell of urine all around his furniture, and Jarvis sitting right in the middle of the mess, eyes big and green and smug as anything. But Tony was the one to raise him, so he probably deserves all the crap his pet throws his way.
And yes, pun intended.
He should have known things would eventually go to shit, though.
It happens when Tony comes home one night from a successful shareholder’s meeting-- and he uses the word ‘successful’ loosely here, because Pepper might chew him out for working on his schematics during business hours, but any meeting where he doesn’t have to talk is a good one in his books. He’s in such a good mood the he pours himself a scotch and settles into his couch for a productive night of doing nothing, that he doesn’t realize he can neither see nor hear-- nor smell-- his cat, until it’s hours into the evening without any of the usual ruckus and interruption.
“Jarvis?” he calls out, puling himself off the couch with a weary groan. “C’mere, Jay.”
No cat.
He does it again a few more times, and when nothing happens, he resigns himself to the fact that he’s going to have to find the little beast himself. He checks every inch of his apartment twice, and when there’s no sign of Jarvis, he finally starts to worry. As much as he’d resisted at first, he’s finally gotten used to the little fur ball, and the thought of him hurt or missing only makes Tony look again.
He’s just getting ready to call Pepper-- and no, his hands are not shaking around his phone, no sir-- when a loud meow from outside has him running to the balcony. He leans over the railing, and oh thank god, there’s his baby, sitting on the edge of the balcony of the apartment next to him, less than ten feet away. How he got there, Tony’s not even going to try to guess, but he doesn’t even think twice before leaping over onto the other balcony.
"Get back here, you little shit,” he hisses, but Jarvis just meows again, and then runs inside the open balcony door and into the apartment, hiding behind a pile of boxes stacked in the middle of the room like they’re playing a fucking game.
“I sweat to god, Jay, I’ll dump your ass at the nearest shelter if you don’t come over here. Right. Now.”
Jarvis just keeps running, and after that, Tony doesn’t know how much time he spends going after him. He tries hiding, crawling-- bribing, for god’s sake-- and he’s about to just leap at him when the front door opens.
Oh, shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
The man barely takes a step inside-- and even with his heart currently attempting to beat it’s way out of his chest from the adrenaline, Tony feels his breath hitching even further at the sight of the tall, blond Adonis that greets him-- before Tony all but yells, “I swear I’m not a burglar, but you’re kind of an idiot for leaving your doors and windows open.”
“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who you are,” the guy replies, “before I call the cops. They’re on my speed dial, and I can make sure you’re still here by the time they are.”
“Gonna tie me up, gorgeous?” he asks, and then his brain catches up and, oh--
“Excuse me?”
“Shit, sorry,” Tony blurts. “Didn’t mean it like that, Pep says I’ve got a mouth on me, and yeah, sometimes it goes off on its own like a reflex-- but really, you can’t blame me, you’re hot as f--”
“Who are you?” His neighbor interrupts, those gorgeous baby blues narrowed in confusion.
“Tony. Stark.”
“Why are you in my apartment?”
“Jarvis.” he points to the cat, now curled up beside a box labeled ‘baking supplies’, “he jumped in from my balcony. I swear he was waiting for me to get home, he does this all the time. Not the, y’know, jumping into windows part-- the other, ruining-your-living-room part. You’re lucky all your shit’s still in boxes, it saved us both a lot of trouble.”
“You... live in the building?”
Tony nods. “Yeah, I know I’m rocking the whole ‘homeless scruff’ look, but I’m actually right next door, so... welcome to the neighborhood, gorgeous,” he winks.
The man stares at him and then chuckles, closing the door and walking towards Tony to stick out his hand.
“Steve Rogers, nice to meet ya,” he grins, and oh boy, Tony’s brain groans. What a sight...
“Tony Stark,” he manages to say.
“Yeah, you mentioned,” Steve reminds him. “And this is Jarvis?” he leans down and picks the cat up.
“Yeah, that’s my baby,” Tony sighs. “He’s a fucking handful. If you’re not careful, he’ll end up down here again, so keep the windows shut.”
Steve chuckles, running his hand through Jarvis’ fur while the bastard purrs his little heart out, and really, this is just like Jarvis-- an angel with Pepper and Bruce, and Rhodey, and even Natasha will cuddle him. But leave him with Tony, and all hell breaks loose--
“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Steve says, and oh.
“Did I... say all of that out loud?” Tony asks.
“Yeah.”
“I’d apologize, but, y’know, it’s bound to happen again.”
Steve smiles. “No worries. And thank you for the welcome.”
“Thank Jarvis,” Tony says, taking the cat back. “Anyway, it looks like you might be a bit busy with all of this,” he waves at the boxes. He should leave and let Steve handle them...
“Want some help?” is what comes out instead, and then Steve smiles and nods, and god, this was the best idea.
Good job, Tony.
- - - - -
After that, there’s times where Tony thinks he might owe Jarvis one. Or a lot.
Because having Steve as his neighbor is the best.
He’s calm, and kind-- they start running into each other more after Steve gets settled in, and regardless of the time, he always take a minute to chat-- and the more Tony gets to know him, the more he picks up on some of the things that make Steve pretty fucking awesome.
Like how he’s got a wit dryer than the fucking Sahara, and half of their conversations leave Tony trying to catch his breath after a story or comment Steve’s shared. It’s refreshing in the best way, to have someone who gets Tony’s particular brand of humor, who does’t take off every time Tony’s mouth runs off faster than his brain. Tony knows all too well how difficult he can get, but Steve manages to match it with his own tenacity.
And like how much of a morning person he is, which Tony learns to appreciate early on, because every once in a while he gets to wake up to Steve’s voice coming in through the blessedly thin walls, as he sings one old-timey song after another. And as annoying as it should probably be to someone like Tony-- he prides himself on not waking up until at least noon whenever he can-- it’s surprisingly a little sweet and funny, instead.
And so hot, it almost blows his mind.
(Never mind that sometimes, he imagines what it’d be like to wake up and hear that voice right next to him, low and rough from sleep; to feel Steve’s lips on his neck, on his chest, and then lower...)
(It makes for some interesting mornings, for sure.)
And when, one day, Steve takes him down to the garage to show him his motorcycle, Tony spends the rest of the day in a state of perpetual arousal, from both the bike-- it’s black and classic and one of the most well-kept machines he’s ever seen-- and from the thought of what Steve must look like riding it, those strong, thick thighs straddling the beast between his legs...
Tony’s so screwed.
The biggest thing though, he thinks, is the drawing.
Because Steve does it a lot.
Every time Tony’s over at his apartment, Steve doesn’t bother hiding any of the sketchbooks scattered around the place, and there’s an easel propped up by the window that’s definitely seen its share of use. And it’s the moments that Steve shows him his art that Tony likes the best-- the man’s got talent in spades, and Tony can see the passion every time he talks about being an artist.
It’s mesmerizing.
There’s the little things too, of course, that fill in all the spaces in between.
Like how Steve will live and die hating the Mets, and how he bakes cupcakes for his friend Bucky’s fire station every Sunday morning. Like how he’s an avid Jeopardy! fan, and spends every episode blurting out whatever answer he knows-- he’s loud about it, too; Tony hears it even from his own apartment.
And then... there's Jarvis, who's developed a rapport with Steve that Tony finds alarming. He's affectionate and calm and behaved, in a way that he's never been with anyone else-- Pepper included-- and Tony would probably be more annoyed too, if Steve wasn't just as smitten. As it is, the sight of Jarvis and Steve cuddling on the blond's couch makes his heart pathetically skip more than a few beats.
He makes a jab, one time, something about Steve and Jarvis needing some time alone, but Steve just rolls his eyes and brings the cat closer.
“Don't be jealous, Tony. You can have your turn, too,” he says, the blush on his cheeks just as gorgeous as ever. Tony's noticed them more and more with every line and innuendo they've traded-- and they've done it enough for Tony to know that Steve is, at the very least, attracted to him. But he's careful not to take it further, because somewhere along the way, losing Steve's friendship has become non-negotiable, and Tony will do a lot to keep it that way.
So he grins and breathes through the pangs of longing and the bittersweet moments that come with being friends with the man Tony's pretty sure he's been falling in love with for months. And for the most part, it's manageable.
Until Jarvis goes missing.
Again.
This time, Tony blames his sleep-addled brain for not noticing his cat's absence when he wakes up, until it's two in the afternoon and he hasn't heard a single sound around the apartment. He searches every room, then searches them again, until he hears a familiar, off-key voice crooning Perry Como-- all that exposure to Steve's appalling music is rubbing off on him, damn it, because Tony never would’ve recognized it before-- and when he peeks out the balcony--
Yep.
There's Jarvis.
Sitting primly on Steve’s balcony once more, smug as the day Pepper brought him into his home. Little brat.
“Your window's open, why is your window open?” Tony asks, when he finally makes it to Steve's place-- and no, he didn't shower just for that, he was past due, okay?? His grime had grime.
“Um, it's really nice outside?” Steve replies.
Tony looks over the blond's shoulder to peek at his pet. “Jarvis jumped in again.”
“Oh yeah. A couple of hours ago, actually.”
“And you didn't send him back?”
Steve frowns. “I figured you could use some peace and quiet. Sorry,” he adds, “is that not... Are you uncomfortable with--”
“What? No--”
“If you want, I can just give drop him back off with you--”
“No,” Tony says again, “it's fine. Just... I don't want him ruining your things,” he waves a hand around.
Steve shakes his head, smiling as he gestures Tony further inside. “He wouldn't do that, would you, Jay?” He turns to the cat, who meows sweetly. “No, he's a good boy.”
Tony scoffs. “He's a little shit.”
“Only with you,” Steve replies, and laughs at Tony's glare.
“I can’t believe this--”
“Tony--”
“I raised him--”
“He's--”
“-- for three years.”
“Cats are pretty smart, Tony. And this one was raised by a genius--”
“Damn right--”
“I’m sure he does it because he knows it annoys you,” Steve says.
“Annoys me? No, sweetie,” the pet name falls from his lips without thought, and he tries to ignore the way Steve's blush makes him look so much more beautiful. “It annoyed me three years ago. Now, it's just...”
“Does it bother you?”
Tony rolls his eyes. “Replacing furniture’s a bitch, so obviously--”
"Shhh," Steve whispers, index finger pressed against grinning lips as he looks at Jarvis over the corner of his eye. “They can sense your fear, y’know.”
Tony laughs. "Shut up, you dork,” he rolls his eyes, and Steve returns his grin with one of his own.
“Want some lunch, while you're here?” Steve asks.
“After the stunt you both just pulled,” Tony grumbles, falling into one of the kitchen stools, “consider it payment for emotional trauma.”
“Y’must’ve been so worried,” Steve guesses.
“He's my baby, of course I was! So fuck you.”
“Yeah, I bet you'd like that,” Steve hums, and Tony almost feels his heart stop.
“Just give me my food, you jerk,” he mumbles, and then it's turkey sandwiches and Perry Como for the rest of the afternoon.
- - - - -
It happens again, after that.
And again.
Tony will notice Jarvis is gone, he'll look until he either hears him meow outside, or picks up strains of Steve's grandpa music. Then he'll go over, have one of ten variations of the same discussion, and take his cat back.
Except most times, he ends up staying for lunch, or dinner.
Or breakfast.
Sometimes he'll stay for coffee, for an hour or two-- or five-- of stories and jokes and Jeopardy! reruns that have him walking back to his door with a grin so wide, his cheeks almost ache.
(He doesn’t like to think of the times he can’t stay-- owning a company doesn’t get any less busy as time goes on, unfortunately-- because Steve’s eyes get big and sad, and then he tries to make Tony feel better, but his smile is thin and brief and wrong. Tony hates those days.)
And it happens more times after that, until one day, Tony's first thought isn't that Jarvis is missing-- it's that he's just with Steve. And, well... that says something. Tony's not sure what, but the way his heart's suddenly beating faster tells him it's probably serious.
He almost trips on the ten steps to Steve's door, but didn't bother knocking this time, just barges in on Steve painting by the window, right next to Tony’s sneaky little Traitor Cat.
“Why did you start opening the window again?” He asks.
”Tony--”
“Because I told you the first time to close it, you remember? And you did. You kept it closed.”
Steve puts his brush down. “Tony, what--”
“But then you opened it that one time, in the morning--”
“It was the afternoon--”
“Same fucking thing. Point is, you opened it. Wanna tell me why?”
“It was a nice day--”
“Yeah, that's what you said. But what about the other days? Like the week it wouldn't stop raining and you were almost freezing your ass off--”
“I like rainy days--”
“Except you hate the cold, so I'm calling bullshit--”
Steve's closer now, right hand clenched at his side. “How do you know I hate the cold?”
“You drink almost more coffee than me-- and I’m practically ninety percent coffee at this point, Rogers. You wear a hoodie any time it's below sixty degrees, and you always have socks on, no matter what. You don't use ice, for fuck's sake, Steve. I'm a genius.”
“Have you figured it out, then?” Steve asks, and he’s close enough that Tony can feel the warmth coming off him in waves. Christ, he runs so much hotter than anyone Tony’s ever met.
“Figured what out?” Tony's confused, because hadn’t they been talking about Steve a minute ago?
“Forget it,” Steve sighs.
Tony shakes his head. "What is it?”
“Tony--”
“No, come on.”
“I don’t--”
“Hey,” Tony says, because Steve’s pulling away and fuck no, that’s the last thing he wants. “Hey, talk to me.”
“I don’t know if I should say anything,” Steve bows his head. He looks and sounds small and unsure and everything Tony knows he isn’t.
“Just do it,” he says, “like ripping off a band-aid.”
Steve chuckles into his chest, squares his shoulders, and looks him in the eye. “I, uh... I might have left them open all the time so Jarvis could get in, and then... Then, you’d have to come over.”
Oh.
Oh.
“You’re an idiot,” Tony sighs.
Steve’s face falls. “I’m sorry--”
“Shut up,” Tony tugs at the other man’s belt loops, pulling him in until their faces are only inches apart. “You could’ve just said you wanted to climb me like a tree.”
Steve tenses, and takes a step back. “Don’t--”
Tony kisses him.
Steve’s lips are soft and warm, just like the rest of him. But then five seconds pass, and then another, and they still haven’t moved. He’s not kissing back. Tony feels his blood run cold, and oh god, he fucked up.
He starts to pull away, a biting, all too casual remark on the tip of his tongue, but then there are arms being wrapped his waist, pulling him closer, and then--
holy shit.
Steve’s sure as hell kissing him back now, hot and hard and a little dirty, and so much better than Tony ever imagined. Then Steve licks his way into Tony’s mouth, and oh wow, hello tongue! Someone’s moaning but Tony doesn’t care because he’s still pressed up against all that delicious muscle, his knees going weak as Steve practically mauls his mouth.
But then Tony’s lungs start burning to remind him he’s only human, and he pulls away with a breathy ‘fuck’.
Steve looks wrecked. “Hmmmwhat?”
“Oh my god,” Tony pants. “Wow, okay, that was--shit.”
“Is this--”
“I’m gonna make this quick because I want to get back to this yesterday,” he leans in again for a short nip at Steve’s lips. “All feelings mutual.”
“Yeah?” Steve whispers. He doesn’t look away from Tony’s lips.
“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’, and then, “You do have feelings, right?”
Steve’s eyes snap up to his, bright with hope and sincerity. “Yeah.”
"Okay, we’re gonna have to sit down and actually talk about about this, obviously. But not right now,” Tony says, pressing his lips against Steve’s jaw once, then twice... “Definitely not right now.”
“So I’ve been freezing my ass off for nothing?” Steve whispers into Tony’s hair later, when they’re finally snuggled up on the sofa the way Tony’s been dreaming about for weeks.
“Hey, I can’t blame you,” he says. “It’s not the first time anyone’s been intimidated by my stunning good looks--”
“Oh my god,” Steve laughs, “stop ruining the moment and answer the question, doofus.”
“Fine, yes, you’ve been freezing your ass off. Which is a shame, really, because it’s a gorgeous ass--”
“Tony--”
“And I’m telling you now: I want to do all sorts of things for, with, and to that ass.”
Steve’s laughing so hard he can’t say anything in response, and Tony’s gonna need to learn how to calm his heart because Jesus Christ, this man is going to kill him.
What a way to go, though.