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Look, it wasn’t Tony’s fault. He wasn’t responsible for how cute Steve was, curled up on the couch. And all right, he was the one who gave Steve a new set of charcoals for his life drawing class. It wasn’t that weird to give someone a New Semester Gift. (No, Obadiah hadn’t sent one. Or any.) Right? And if Steve had blushed as he opened the Smythson wrapping and seen the leather pen case the shop assistant had slotted the charcoal into, Tony hadn’t known that adorable reaction would happen. In no way did he have an ulterior motive in Blick or at Smythson. As evidence, Tony wasn’t the only one giving gifts. The first time Steve had seen one of the green boxes Tony brought back to the apartment, he’d tried to swipe a snack. He’d pulled a horrible face even Tony didn’t find cute when he found the clamshell filled with sugar and weird stir-fry from a dining hall. The next day, Tony had been gifted with a full meal Steve had apparently made. College kids weren’t supposed to make home-cooked meals, and make their housemate sit down, and eat with them. And college kids especially weren’t supposed to keep cooking their housemate food on a regular basis. He was only being fair giving something back for Steve’s constant thoughtfulness.
Returning to the point: it wasn’t his fault that Steve had a smudge of charcoal on his face from where he must’ve brushed his hand against his cheek in sleep; he’d also cuddled a pile of sketch materials tucked to his chest as he napped. Steve was the one who picked out the soft and inviting wool blanket draped over his legs. Steve was the one who decided that they should spend time together in the living room, turning it into a comfortable place for both of them to study and drift off on late nights. Steve was even the one who had suggested Jarvis turn the lights down if one of them happened to fall asleep.
So in conclusion: It wasn’t Tony’s fault that Steve made a fetching image curled up in the dusky light with a gift Tony had bought him curled in one of his stained hands. It wasn’t. The fan of his lashes, long and blonde, was soft. Steve occasionally let out a little snuffle, usually nuzzling the armrest of the couch. And it wasn’t his fault that he hushed Jarvis and took in the moment a little too long. Long enough for Steve to wake up.
Steve slowly sat up, placing the art supplies on the ground.
“Jarvis, can I have more light please?”
Because, yes, Steve Rogers addressed an AI by name with manners. Tony ducked back a bit into the entryway and walked back in, making a bit a noise to hopefully cover that he’d been looming in partial darkness.
“Hey, Steve,” Tony greeted, completely casually and not at all like he’d already come in.
“Tony!” Steve sprung up, sliding past the entry table to meet Tony at the door of the living room. “How was lab? Or shop, maybe?”
Tony chuckled. Steve somehow managed to erase any awkwardness, even if he shouldn’t be aware it existed. “Yeah, shop was good. Got in the time I needed on the next prosthetic bit,” Tony gave Steve a pat on the shoulder, grabbing his friend to turn them both back towards the living room. “Even met a great course 2 kid. He does ROTC. Sam, I think?”
Steve nodded,“ROTC kids have it tough. Buck’s always complaining about how it piles on top of coursework.”
The two settled on the couch. Steve shuffled the last of his art supplies to the side. Tony cautiously settled down, close enough to feel Steve’s warmth without brushing against him. Maybe he’d picked a smaller couch than the decorator had suggested for the space for just this reason. All of this was moot because Steve scooted closer once his supplies were safe. He threw the throw blanket over both of them. He didn’t even hesitate.
“But I guess you have all the Stark Industry stuff too,” Steve mused, tucking the blanket under his leg.
“Not really. Obadiah deals with all of it, at least until I graduate,” Tony shrugged. He could practically feel Steve’s warmth seeping into him. He didn’t want to graduate, not if it meant leaving Steve and the comfort of just learning for its own sake.
Satisfied with the blanket set up, Steve turned to him. Having the blue eyes on him added another layer of warmth.
“Still, it’s a lot of pressure. I mean, just getting through courses is hard for me, but you’ve got this…” Steve made a weird gesture that almost smacked Tony in the face, “this pressure on you. And you never have anyone over. You’re always staying late at lab too, even if its not for class. Sometimes, I worry about you.”
And suddenly, Tony feels a brush against his thigh. Steve is earnest, blue eyes peering at him as the hand brushed against him under the blanket.
“You don’t have to,” Tony said, putting his own hand over Steve’s.
“I want to though,” Steve sighed. He dropped his gaze to his lap.