"Amo amas amat, "Steve murmured under his breath, almost subconsciously, hunched over his work. Brow furrowed, he glance from one slab of textbooks to another. He hadn't studied Latin since 1937, and had never been very good at it, but his determination, as usual, was admirable.
"amatis amamus…"
Tony twitched, frustration flashing across his face. The idea of Steve retaking some qualifications was sweet, but he had never expected to have to tolerate him as a student. "Will you give it a rest?" he groaned, slamming his notebook against the infinitely technologically advanced counter. He had been suffering in silence for what seemed like all morning.
"What?" Steve looked up, disorientated, confused and adorably innocent. He had been so lost in his work; he had almost forgotten Tony's presence. It was a pleasant surprise.
"Six words. 17 suggested memorising techniques, "he pointed at a list Steve had pushed to the outer edges of his papers, "Yet you have been there, for twenty minutes repeating those. Six. Words." He sounded completely exasperated, but it wouldn't take an expert to detect the playfulness in his voice.
"I know it's an old fashioned method, but it really works," his words were dripping with earnestness, "Good, hard, work, bit of elbow grease, that's what I believe in." Those words from any other agent would have been unbearably patronising, but one glance at Steve, beaming with his 'honest American' face, you can't be angry at that.
"Twenty minutes- resuming Latin studies… "he tutted and exhaled dramatically, only a hint of a smirk.
"And what have you been doing with your time?" Steve asked, picking up another notebook.
"Oh, just research… - Tony trailed off, trying to look distracted.
"Research? I thought you were a good liar," he teased with a half-smile. Now if you would let me get back to my studies. Latin is an important language…" he began his well-rehearsed lecture. Three agents had already suffered it.
"You forget I speak Latin," Tony interjected. Internally, he was panicking. It was code red in his mind. Steve had noticed him lying and not questioned it any further. Did he suspect something? Was he aware of the romantic dinner he had been planning for days? He peered nervously at Steve, who was hard at work, staring intently at his verb declensions. Tony's mind hummed with concentration. Could he have discovered something, seen, detected… No. No. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Natasha's birthday. He must have thought it was a surprise for Natasha. He looked closer, edging nearer to the desk Steve and his books were threatening. He had insisted on real oak, but it was bending slightly under the pressure. While Tony had been fuming, Steve had written something on a post-it, in his trade mark scrawl. More like calligraphy than a scribble. The content of the note was paramount.
Get present for Natasha.
Phew. He knew nothing. Operation 'dessert' was still on.