Work Text:
“I made you burned waffles.”
“… You … why?”
Looking down at the plate, Tony said, “Because burned waffles make me feel better.”
Steve set his work bag down on the floor. Covered in soot and three shifts of get-me-out-of-heres, he chose not to mention, Well, which one of us is eating?
He stared at the plate. Then at Tony.
“Not like—blackened to a crisp,” Tony stated. Arms folded across his chest, he added, “I can’t do pancakes, Steve.”
“It’s four in the morning, Tony.”
“Oh.”
“Tony.”
“Hm?”
Steve’s expression softened. “… I love you.”
Tony pecked his cheek. “Love you, too.”