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Steve liked it when it snowed. He had always been a fan, even when the risk of getting sick from the cold was very high. Steve loved his city, but it was always so busy that the peace snow seemed to force upon it was soothing, serene. It was a particular joy to wake up and find there was a fresh layer of snow out there.
In the master bedroom of the penthouse he had no way of knowing at first, until he’d moved from the room, had his shower and stepped out into the main living area, to see the balcony covered in white.
He smiled to himself and slid open the door, crossing an arm over his chest to combat the cold as he looked out over the city. He had taken two steps forward before he felt a dip, no crunching of ice as his foot hit the wet concrete.
He glanced down with a frown on his face, confused by the cleared area, at first thinking it was a hot spot to cause melting. Even with an enhanced mind it took him a moment to realise the space was human sized.
It was long, with two smeared edges out to the side, messy and undefined. Snow angels never did turn out exactly as one might expect. They were not perfect, the wings were never the same size, or at all graceful, but that was part of the joy.
Steve did like imperfections and he pondered that for a moment until logic weighed in. There was a snow angel on the balcony, and only one other person lived in the penthouse (officially only one person DID live there). Steve was the one that adored Christmas, and winter. Tony on the other hand loved the beach, LA, and summer. It just seemed odd.
He hadn’t been concerned when he’d woken up alone. Steve might have been an early riser, but Tony skipped sleep like it were washing the windows. He’d get around to it, some day. It never seemed imperative to the man. It was likely that Tony hadn’t even been to bed yet, or had napped down in one of the R&D labs.
Turning back inside, Steve slid the door closed and spotted Tony sitting up at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee.
“Morning, cap.” Tony’s easy smile pushed away any formality and Steve smiled, heading over to pour his own cup, hand brushing affectionately over Tony’s shoulders as he passed.
“Your back is wet,” he said. Of course, he hadn’t really thought someone had flown in to leave an imprint on the balcony, but it still came as a surprise that Tony really had been out there.
“You must be mistaken,” Tony replied, shrugging it off though as Steve looked it was clear the back of Tony’s shirt was a shade darker than the front.
“You might want to change out of that, you could get sick.” Steve sipped his coffee, leaning against the counter to smirk at the man. Tony was childlike and childish in many ways, but this was entirely new.
Tony raised an eyebrow at Steve, incredulous, as if he really was going to play at not being the angel culprit. He finished his coffee, setting it down with the familiar clink of an empty cup, then stood to pull his shirt over his head. He dropped it aside and the fabric hit the floor with a smack.
“It’s not wet, huh?” Steve asked, lips quirking up.
“Must be something in the water,” Tony shrugged, wandering back towards the bedroom without a word. Steve watched and by the exaggerated swagger of Tony’s hips he knew the man was still just messing with him.
“You’re cute, Stark!” He called out with barely contained laughter.
“You can’t prove that!”