Work Text:
Steve grinned a bit sheepishly in the face of Tony’s glare and tried his best not to snicker. It was a very justified glare, granted, considering they were standing in the partially-burnt Stark Manor grand sitting room. It was just… the teen was half-covered in foam from the fire extinguisher still clutched in Steve’s hands and he looked more like a wet kitten than the future ruler of a weapons empire.
“My dad,” Tony said very seriously, “is going to kill you.”
Which, of course, only made Steve’s grin stretch wider.
“That’d be an awful waste after he went through all the trouble of pulling me out of the ice.”
Tony gaped at him, expression torn between horror and outrage.
“How are you not taking this seriously?! You lit the Christmas tree on fire!”
Which… yeah… The once proud twelve-footer that’d been the centerpiece of the sitting room had gone up like it’d been soaked in gasoline before Steve had even managed to light the third candle, taking Maria’s fine draperies with it. That… Steve did feel guilty about that. He’d just been so excited about the idea of a traditional Christmas tree with real candles. He’d seen them growing up, even if he’d never been able to afford one.
“Oops?”
Tony groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
“Nevermind dad,” he bemoaned, “Jarvis is going to kill you.”
Steve felt the blood drain out of his face, his humor evaporating at the thought.
“Shit,” he cursed, eyeballing the disaster zone surrounding where the tree had been. “You have to help me get rid of it.”
“What? Like Jarvis isn’t going to notice the tree is just suddenly gone?”
“We can get a new one?”
Tony gave him a flat look.
“Nope, you know what? I’ve clearly gone along with too many of your ‘brilliant’ plans today already. I’m gonna go shower. I’ll say something pretty at your funeral. If, you know, they ever find your body.”
He turned to leave, sending Steve scrambling after him. He tossed the empty fire extinguisher onto the couch as he passed, catching up to Tony before he could actually leave the room.
“Wait, no! Don’t leave me!”
He grabbed Tony’s arm to stop him, making the other turn and bringing them chest to chest. Well. Chin to chest. Gosh, Tony was so small. Steve really did forget sometimes. Small and delicate and with those gorgeous, expressive eyes framed by long, dark lashes. His plush lips pulled downward in a pout.
“Steve?”
Right. It was probably weird that Steve was still holding onto him and looking down at him when they were standing so close together. Steve just couldn’t quite bring himself to back away. He licked his lips, heart pounding, and couldn’t miss the way Tony’s gaze zeroed on his mouth.
“I, uh, might be having another brilliant idea.”
One of Tony’s eyebrows rose in a look he’d clearly learned from Peggy Carter herself. There was no one else who could condense that much judgment into an eyebrow.
“Brilliant? Or ‘something else that’ll get you killed’?”
Steve’s lips quirked upward.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
And then he leaned in to press his mouth to Tony’s… which, admittedly, was not the best moment for Jarvis to come walking through the door.