Work Text:
Tony stepped past the glass doors leading to the balcony, the breeze brushing at his hair, his skin. It tugged at his clothes fruitlessly.
The weather was a crooked line between chilly and cold and Tony knew his thin pajamas wouldn't keep him warm. He didn't mind.
The city was awake without being intrusive and shining lights reflected on the canvas of the sky. It seemed a sight worthy of a photograph or a sketch.
That's how Tony knew he couldn’t possibly be alone.
He walked towards the steel railing, already anticipating the frightening cold that would lead to numb fingertips.
"Isn't it a little late for a nighttime sketch?" Tony asked, his voice coming out gentle and without any accusation. The wind threatened to carry his words away.
Steve didn't turn for a moment. Tony could tell from behind Steve that he was smiling from the lift in his cheek and the shift in his jaw. He could also see the movement in Steve's hand, indicating he was still at work, until it came to a sudden halt.
"It's never too late." Steve turned towards Tony, and Tony could finally see the smile he had been picturing moments before. It seemed brighter and more lively presented before him.
"I would probably say the same thing about working in my workshop but you wouldn't approve of that." Tony pointed out, taking a step closer, his feet pulling him forward without hesitation. "I am, however, much more lenient."
"How did I ever get so lucky?" Steve teased, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way they always did when he was happy. Sometimes, Tony couldn't believe he was the cause of that.
"Not sure." Tony stepped into Steve's space, peering over at his sketchbook. "May I see?"
"Absolutely not. I'm not done yet." Steve pulled his sketchbook away, giving Tony a scolding look.
Tony had expected as much, but he always gave it a try anyway. "Somehow I never see these drawings even when they are done."
Steve shrugged almost bashfully, bending down to drop his notebook. Tony opened his mouth to ask why when Steve began to shrug off his jacket.
"Is this my own personal strip tease? Steve Rogers, you should really know better." Tony silently enjoyed the slight flush that spread across Steve's cheeks.
"You're shivering." Steve responded, sounding exasperated but not truthfully so.
Tony hadn't realized it himself but as he looked down he noticed the goosebumps lining his bare arms and they way he had begun to shake to keep himself warm.
Steve extended his jacket and Tony huffed a breath. He had an equal urge to refuse the jacket because Steve would undoubtedly become cold himself and to accept it because while the jacket was warm, Tony was undeniably cold.
Tony didn't hesitate much longer, taking the jacket and pulling it on. It somehow held Steve's comfort in it’s wool. It smelled just like him too. Tony couldn't discern anything specific, but it smelled vaguely like the cookies his mom had a knack for making around Christmas time.
"We could just go inside." Tony said, not really offering it as much as just putting the thought out there. Neither of them made any move to leave.
Tony leaned his weight against the railing and looked over at Steve who was back to sketching. Tony was content just watching him. The tense line of his jaw, the concentration that furrowed his brow just like it did out on the field. But out in the field there was something in Steve's eyes that rattled him. Out in the fresh air with no immediate threats, that something was absent.
"Despite never seeing any drawings, I think you're a good artist. Natasha showed me a couple sketches once. Only one of the many perks of being her friend. Wait, friend might be stretching it. Let’s go with teammate." Tony tapped his forefinger against the railing absentmindedly.
"I think you're just saying that." Steve murmured, obviously still enveloped in creating jumbles of scratch marks that would come together to be something jaw-dropping. Tony was fairly sure Steve was incapable of anything less.
"I wouldn’t do that do that." Tony turned his gaze back towards the city but it seemed less appealing now and he found himself turning back towards Steve. The piece of his hair that the wind was pulling at seemed somehow infinitely more important. It only reiterated something Tony already knew.
"When am I going to be able to see one of those drawings of yours?" Tony asked, nodding his head at the sketchbook in Steve's hands.
"Patience is a virtue." Steve reminded Tony, sounding almost smug. Tony felt something foreign pull at the corner of his lip.
"I don't know how long I can be patient." Tony tore his gaze away from Steve, forcing himself to look at the skyline presented before him. He curled his fingers in the pockets of Steve's jacket. He almost lost sight of what they were talking about for a brief moment.
"It'll be worth it." Tony could tell from the sound of scratching against paper that Steve was nearly done. His strokes were longer, more assured. Just for good measure.
"It better be." Tony couldn't hear the scratching anymore. He turned back, and Steve was staring at him with a trademark flashy grin he knew Tony enjoyed.
"Come look." He offered and Tony paused before crowding into Steve's space and leaning into his side.
It was the skyline, elegantly crafted and almost animated in style but featured most prominently was a figure. A frankly ridiculous looking figure with pajamas and an overflowing jacket. But there was something glowing there that made the man seem much less lonely than he could've been. And there was a soft light emanating from the figure's chest, the only distinguishing feature save for the rowdy hair and famous beard.
"I can't believe you've been hiding this from me all these years. You're an artistic genius. And I especially like this dashingly handsome man, he seems really smart to me." Tony turned his head and met Steve's gaze. The honest truth, undisguised by his usual boisterous attitude spilled from his lips. "It's really nice."
"I think I like praise better when it comes from you." Steve closed his sketchbook and reached forward, one hand closing around his jacket. His other hand tucked his sketchbook away in the inner pocket which was frighteningly close to Tony's chest and drumming heart.
"I-yeah. Anytime? I mean, it's not like I was gonna say it was bad. Okay, that makes it seem like I was only being nice. Seriously, it was amazing. And see? Now I sort of sound like a pushover." Tony held his breath, waiting for Steve hands to move from where they had settled, one clutching the edge of his jacket and one curled around Tony's side.
"My hand was beginning to hurt, it sort of cramps up when I draw in the cold." Steve explained, probably sensing how tense Tony had gotten.
"Oh." Tony couldn't manage anything intelligible to say. He tried to avoid looking into Steve's eyes but it was growing increasingly difficult.
"Would you like me to move?" Steve asked, and Tony's body urged him to move closer while his mind urged him away.
"No." Tony answered quickly, because he was no longer tense and he was warmer with Steve beside him. He never wanted to move.
They stood like that for another few minutes, neither of them willing to move closer or further away. There was a calmness that was waiting for interruption.
After a few minutes, Steve finally stepped away, eyes unreadable. Tony opened his mouth to say something but Steve was too faraway to hear him. He was somewhere where the road they had stepped on wasn't an option.
"I should get some sleep. I have to get some paperwork done and I'm sure Fury has missions lined up."
"I know." Tony hated the understanding in his voice.
"Right." Steve nodded one too many times. "Goodnight, Tony. Try to get some sleep." Steve walked off, briskly and without looking back.
Tony noticed Steve had left his jacket. He sighed and looked out over the skyline. Steve's sketchbook was a reassuring weight near his heart.
Tony leaned against the railing and peered down at the roads down below. He watched a sampling of cars drive by and then he turned his gaze back towards the tall buildings looming ahead. They seemed darker now, the whole night seemed ready to swallow him whole.
Tony wasn't sure how much longer he stood lingering before heading back inside. His mind felt heavy as he did so.
It was dark and Tony couldn’t make out much, but there was a discernable figure in the shadows. One Tony could recognize even without bright lights.
“What are you still doing here?” Tony asked tentatively, mildly curious but mainly confused. He frowned softly, trying to find a clue in Steve’s posture.
Steve walked towards Tony and the light from the windows cast Steve in a harsh glow. “Forgot something.”
Tony looked down, he’d also forgotten about the jacket. Before he had the chance to respond, fingers gently nudged his chin up and he met Steve’s gaze with wide eyes. His eyes dipped down to Steve's lips as he attempted to judge the situation.
“So, not the jacket?” Tony asked, a small smile daring to make an appearance. He tilted his head up, feeling almost jittery. He waited patiently for Steve to cobble together some sort of answer or make a move. Steve went with the latter.
Steve’s lips pressed against his, effectively silencing him as the city crumbled away behind them.