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“What are we watching again?” Tony asked, dropping heavily onto the couch beside Steve. Steve was a wall of a man, unmoving even with the deep shift in the weight of the cushion, and Tony found it easy enough to lean against him. Steve, in response, bumped his side with an elbow, his eyes still trained on the television as he fiddled with the remote.
“Love Actually,” Steve answered gruffly, brows furrowing more and more with each click of the remote button.
“Love Actually,” Tony repeated. He reached into the bowl on Steve’s lap and popped a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth; he certainly had the knowledge of manners, being raised the way he was raised, but he threw etiquette out the window as he mumbled through his chewing. “Isn’this that corny Christmas movie that—”
“It’s not corny, Tony, it’s— You’ll see, just watch.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s corny. I’ve seen the opening scene. It was corny.”
Steve met Tony’s eyes, huffed indignantly, and then turned his attention back to the screen. Tony was content to settle against him and chomp some popcorn for a bit. It wouldn’t take Steve long to find the movie.
He ran a soft hand over Steve’s chest, pressing a kiss to his cheek in between bites of popcorn. Steve didn’t respond, not even with a grunt or a hum. It wasn’t terribly out of character, but it wasn’t the most normal for him— he usually made the effort to at least move or look at Tony or something, just to let the guy know he’d gotten his point across.
Tony raised a brow, studying the half of Steve’s face he could see from beside him.
He puckered his lips, moved his own face within inches of Steve’s cheek, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Okay, you’re not actually mad about me making fun of Love Actually, are you?” he asked, sitting back.
Steve huffed again.
“I was kidding. It’s— Everyone has their own preferences, dear, c’mon.”
Steve paused, gave him an incredulous look, and looked back at the screen once more.
“Steve. Honey. Light of my life.”
If nothing else, Tony was at least the kind of guy to feel a little bit bad when he thought he’d hurt someone’s feelings, no matter how dumb it seemed. And this, admittedly, seemed a little bit dumb to him. He had his own dumb little things, too; he could hardly blame Steve for being a little sensitive.
And he was sure there was something… deeply rooted about it, something about male fragility or hypermasculinity. It may have even been some over-feminization of the Spirit of Christmas, which Steve had actually been guilty of during the holidays; he was half convinced that skinny trees were for girls, snowflake print shirts were too gay for him— no offense, Tony, he’d said, like they weren’t both sleeping with a man— and that dressing as Santa would be fine if not for the copious amounts of blush used to achieve that rosy cheeks look.
It was probably something along those lines, one of those a-little-bit-dumb things Tony picked up from him and didn’t have the heart to poke too much at. Steve had been through a lot. It took a lot out of him to just be with Tony, to force himself open in the way he knew he wanted to be with the man he loved. Tony didn’t want to squash that. He didn’t want Steve to feel unsafe around him.
“Look, dear, I—” he started, tone as soft and apologetic as he could make it. “Let’s watch. I haven’t even seen the damn thing all the way through, you know? How could I judge?”
Steve opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again quickly. Tony would have taken it as a sign of frustration if not for the tiny quirk of a smile that followed. Steve was clearly trying to hide it, clearing his throat and taking a moment to re-blank his face.
Tony gasped, taking the bowl of popcorn out of Steve’s lap and setting it on the table. He swung a leg around Steve’s waist, half-straddling Steve’s lap enough to see him straight-on. He set one hand on either side of Steve’s face and squinted.
“You smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You smiled! You were smiling.”
“I didn’t. I wasn’t.”
Steve’s tone betrayed his words, his voice cracking with a small bit of a laughter on “wasn’t” as he lost a small bit of his composure. At that point, the jig was up, and it all crumbled.
“Oh my god, you were pranking me? You were pranking me, on my couch, in front of my TV, while I was sitting patiently…”
“Get off’a me, I need to find Netflix.” Steve unceremoniously set a hand on Tony’s side and gently shoved him back onto the couch, grinning at Tony’s small “oof.”
“You’re awful. Despicable, truly.” Tony resituated himself, reaching for the bowl of popcorn again and shoving a handful into his mouth. His words were muffled as he spoke through his chewing once again: “I don’t even want to watch with you anymore.”
“Shh, baby, movie.” Steve settled back against the couch, pressing ‘play’ on the remote. He stretched, letting his arm fall over the back of the couch. Tony wasted no time taking advantage of that, leaning back against Steve’s bicep.
“I’m going to get you back at some point,” he said, tossing a piece of popcorn into the air near Steve. Steve, knowing well enough by then what Tony was angling for, snapped his head forward to catch the popcorn in his mouth.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Shhhh, movie.”
Tony half-laughed, half-scoffed, pulling away the tiniest bit to take in Steve’s expression again. Steve’s grin was still plastered on his face, though not quite as intense as before. Tony couldn’t find it in himself, then, to make a comment. He just rolled his eyes fondly, settling back and focusing on the movie instead.
He rested his head against Steve’s shoulder and, finally seeming willing to reciprocate something, Steve leaned back against him.