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Tony thinks he might die here. Or he'll go blind, with the bright blue and yellow glaring at him from every corner. The only good thing here are the cinnamon rolls (because yes) and Steve's ass in the jeans he’s wearing. But he doesn’t have to go to a fucking IKEA to appreciate his boyfriend’s ass.
“Babe, do we really need to go through the whole store? It’s huge. There’s a shortcut right there. Honestly, the only reason it’s this big and this long is so people buy more. I know how this stuff works; it’s marketing mixed with consumer psychology and a dash of fuck you to people who’re in a hurry. Like we are. Darling. Sweetheart. Why would you even look into this room? This whole place is the size of our second bathroom. You know how rich I am, right? Filthy rich. You and I being here is an insult to everyone who’s ever been forced to go to a damn IKEA to buy their furniture and spent a full day trying to assemble it! … What? No! We don’t need a new pillow or bedsheets. We have expensive as hell linen at home that even T’Challa would be jealous of. Darling. No. It’s not even our color, honey.”
Tony realizes Steve's in his don't-listen-to-him mood when he doesn’t even look at him and walks right into the next showroom, this one being a tiny apartment where the bedroom doubles as a dining room. It’s one of the saddest things Tony ever has to witness, even though he can’t help but admit it’s pretty well done. At least it doesn’t look like you’d suffocate if you have to live there.
“Yes, yes. Very nice. Cool wallpaper.”
Tony doesn’t get why you’d want to spend hours walking around fake living rooms and overly styled bathrooms when you always end up buying a cheap bookcase instead anyways. And don't forget the ten smaller items you don’t even really need, but they’re there, so hey, why not spend money on them?!
IKEA is the worst thing, Tony decides. Worse than stacks of paperwork on a Saturday morning. Steve doesn’t agree. Steve loves it. Loves to walk around the small examples of everyday living, loves to admire the fake books and fake art purposely placed in every show home. Loves how accessible and affordable all the stuff is, and “Look, Tony, it comes with a five-year-warranty!”
Tony wishes his relationship with this man comes with a five-year-warranty if he keeps this up. They have been here for almost two hours and they haven’t even made it through the first floor.
He opens his mouth to comment on the hideous bedspread Steve is currently touching, “What is it even supposed to look like? Flames? A tiger? Cheetos?”
Steve shrugs, holds the soft fabric between his fingers and Tony loves how his boyfriend does this little sigh and his face relaxes, softens. Tony can’t judge him for his terrible life choices when he looks like that. Fuck. He falls in love all over again when Steve seems content and sweet and-
Tony sighs, defeated and he steps closer to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist, his back against Tony’s chest. He leans against him, knowing that Steve won’t mind, that he has no trouble taking his weight. “I love you,” Tony whispers, knowing Steve would pick on the apologetic tone in his words and the meaning behind it.
“I’d love you more if you’d stop whining. Come on,” Steve hums in reply and turns, trapping Tony in his own arms now and looking down into his eyes. Tony melts. “I never get to do things like this,” Steve continues, “I know we don’t need anything, but I like the houses. I know they're fake, but they do a very good job. You get an idea of what’s normal nowadays, what people want their homes to look like.”
“You feel like you don’t have enough say in what our home looks like? Is that it?” Tony asks, a frown appearing on his features. If that’s the case, he should have caught on earlier. It’s true, they live in Tony’s apartment with Tony’s stuff and it’s all Tony’s design or bought by Tony (or Pepper, but again, as told by Tony). He tries to pull away, but Steve’s arms won’t budge.
“Tony. Would you believe me if I said I just like snooping into these fake homes and getting a sense of the real world? Sweetheart, I never have to think about domestic things like what bedsheets I like or what kind of mirror I want in our bathroom. It’s fine. I love the life I live, with you with me. But before… This would have been considered a luxury. I know you don’t see why, I don’t have to be a genius to see that you hate it. But I just- I like being here.” Steve then leans in to press a chaste kiss against Tony’s lips and lets him go, “And I’m buying this.”
Damn him and being so genuine and adorable. Fine. He gets it. Tony gives in, not because of Steve’s kiss but because he can never say no to Steve now. Not even when it means he's going to buy to that awful bedspread that makes him want to set this whole store on fire. Tony takes Steve’s hand and squeezes it before Steve pulls him into the next room. “You’re so damn lucky I love you.”
Steve smiles, “I am.”