#stonytober

Steve could barely fight off the grin creeping up his face. “Now, what makes you think I have anything to say?”

“You’re smirking at me. Something tells me you have a lot to say. Or laugh.”

“I’d never lie to you.”

“You just did.” Tony’s eyes narrow, his lips twitching. “Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re laughing with your eyes. That counts.” Tony wiggles on the spot and unfortunately rolls off the mountain of lights in the process.

Steve finally breaks.

Tony groans as he lands on his stomach. “You’re terrible. I'm in distress and you’re laughing. You're laughing at me. You should be thankful Peter isn't here. Bet Jameson would love to have this in the news.”

Steve scoffs. “Let's not pretend that you wouldn't laugh at me if I was in your shoes.”

Tony exhaled, sounding resigned. “Just get me out of here.”

Much to both Steve’s delight and displeasure, Tony’s dressed in his usual combo of tank top and jeans. As much as Steve loathes Tony in pressed suits (Tony in a suit and tie shouldn’t leave Steve speechless, it’s horrifying), this outfit is so much worse. Tank tops always do an amazing job at showing off Tony’s lean body and toned arms.

And jeans. Don’t get him started on jeans. They never, ever fail to accentuate Tony’s—

Pushing away every thought in his head, Steve forces himself to focus on detangling Tony from the clutches of pumpkin lights. Thankfully, it isn’t as complicated as Steve thought it would be.

“Where is everyone?” Steve asks as he works to free Tony. “Last I saw, Jan was trying to rope everyone into decorating the place.”

Tony snorts. “Apparently, they all have ‘places’ to be.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Ororo and Jan said they forgot they had a reservation at some fancy-schmancy place, Bruce had some idea he needed to write down immediately, Peter went out to get some photos of Spider-Man for the Bugle, and guess where Logan went?”

“Down to the gym?”

“Nope. Headed out to buy more beer.”

Steve arches an eyebrow. “Don’t we have—”

Tony cocks his head to the side. “About a hundred cans of beer left in the pantry? Yup.”

“Huh. That’s weird.”

Frankly, it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened recently. For the past couple of weeks, their friends have been trying to push him and Tony together in the silliest ways, ranging from trapping them in a closet to stranding them in Savage Land.

Much to Steve’s surprise and hidden disappointment, Tony doesn’t seem to have noticed, brushing everything off as terrible pranks. Which is fine. Very fine. Steve never thought Tony would reciprocate his feelings, anyway.

Their friends, however, haven’t gotten that memo yet.

Steve makes quick work of the remaining wires and not before long, Tony’s free. Tony takes Steve's outstretched hand, letting himself be hoisted to his feet.

His heart skips a beat when Tony's lips are close to his. It's hard to ignore how kissable they are and how warm Tony’s calloused hand feels in his and how much he wants to—

Tony breaks the spell by taking a step back and dropping his hand. Steve is not disappointed at all.

“So…”

“So?”

“So, how did you get yourself tangled up?”

“I was supposed to be on candy buying duty.” Tony plucks the lights from Steve’s grasp as he nods to the boots he has on. “Since Peter, Ororo, and Jan aren't around, I thought I’d take these out for a spin.”

Steve glances down at them. “Are these new?”

“Yup. I haven’t gotten the balancing right though. And they give out pretty fast for some reason. Definitely gonna have to take a look at them later.”

Steve frowns as he watches Tony shoot upwards. “Shouldn’t you take a look at them now?”

“Nah,” Tony calls down as he begins to fasten the lights to the ceiling hooks. “They should be fine.”

“Tony—”

“I’ll take a look at them after I hang this!”

Steve frowns. He hates it when Tony brushes off any concerns about himself. The fact that he'd rather compromise his safety over creepy pumpkin lights says a lot about Tony as a person.

“You need any help? I can get the—”

“I’m good!”

“You sure?”

“Very sure! See? I hung them just fine. Besides, I’m the one with the rocket— Ah!”

It all happens in a flash. One moment, he’s watching Tony endanger himself, the next, he’s dashing to cushion Tony’s fall.

Fortunately for both of them, Tony lands in Steve’s arms, albeit ungracefully. He flails around, steadying himself by clasping his arms around Steve’s neck.

If the last several minutes were bad, this is torture. It’s a challenge to ignore how handsome Tony is up close, even harder to ignore how much Steve wants to hold him like this, to carry him up to his room to kiss him silly.

All he can hope is that Tony can’t feel his quickening pulse or—

“They’re gray.”

Steve blinks, snapping out of his stupor. “What?”

Tony’s cheeks flush. “Um, the flecks. In your eyes. There’s a bit of gray in them. I never realized.”

Steve feels his lips part, lost for words. “Oh. Yeah. There is. Gray flecks, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs as he leans forward. “Yeah, there really is.”

Like a moth to a flame, Steve meets him halfway in a soft kiss.

The feeling of Tony's goatee brushing against his skin, the hint of coffee he tastes, the warmth spreading through his chest. It’s both everything and better than he ever dreamed of.

“Wow,” Tony breathes out when they break apart.

“Wow is right,” Steve agrees.

Tony’s lips quirk to the side. “You like me, huh?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t. Or let you win at basketball—”

Tony gasps, his eyes widening in betrayal. “No.”

Steve smirks. “Yes.”

“No way. How could you?”

Steve feels himself blush. “I don’t always mean to! You can be pretty distracting in shorts.”

Tony breaks into a smug grin. “My legs do it for you, huh.”

“Yeah. And your arms. And your…” Steve's cheeks begin to heat up. “...butt.”

Tony blinks. “Wow. Oh wow. Okay.” He gives Steve another peck on the lips and nuzzles his cheek. “C’mon, put me down. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Steve asks as he does as he's told.

“To the basketball court. I need to see this for myself.”

Steve glances around. “Don’t we have decorations to put up?”

“They can wait another day," Tony dismisses. “Or night. We could definitely make it back in time.”

“Or,” Steve begins, slipping his hand in Tony's, “we could get everything done, order takeout, and maybe hang out. In my room. If you want.”

Tony pauses, looking contemplative. “We do half of the work. And then order takeout.”