Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
This was written for butterflycell on tumblr, who wanted Steve/Tony domestics :)
It was three in the morning when Tony pushed the bedroom door open as silently as possible, which was difficult since he could barely see straight he was so tired. The light in the hallway streamed through the crack in the door, highlighting the sleeping form in the centre of the large bed. Steve shifted slightly, making a small confused noise at the back of his throat and moved to bury his face further into Tony's pillow, which he was hugging tightly to his chest.
Tony refused to take his eyes off his blond, absentmindedly kicking off his leather shoes and untucking his shirt from inside his pants. He left the pile of clothes on the floor (he could always pick them up tomorrow) and stumbled on heavy legs to his side of the bed.
He sighed, eyes closing briefly, when his head made contact with the softness of his pillow, his body sinking into mattress. He rolled on his side, shuffling closer to the other body. Steve reached out blindly towards him, making contact with his shoulder, pausing for a split second, before practically crawling towards him to pull them closer.
Tony could feel the steady rise and fall of Steve's chest against his ear, could hear the low mumbles of incoherent words in his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut.
His pillow was moving.
Pillows didn't usually move, Tony was almost certain of that, yet his did. He was sure he hadn't created this – who would create a pillow that would walk away from you – and he was adamant it wouldn't succeed in his mission. He tightened his grip, making a noise of objection. His pillow chuckled, the noise vibrating against him.
He was definite that pillows didn't laugh.
Cracking his eyes open, all he could see was blue. Amused blue eyes, and particularly the amused blue eyes of Steve Rogers, bed partner and honorary pillow would was trying to get away.
"No, don't go. Lay down with me," Tony insisted sleepily.
"Tony…I have to go for a run," Steve tried to explain simply to his half brain dead partner.
"No, no run. You're legs will still be there in a couple of hours," Tony refused to relinquish his hold. He nuzzled in the hard, pale flesh, lips trailing.
His pillow sighed, more fondly than in aggravation, and he couldn't help the victorious mental dance when the warm body shifted, returning to the bed, pulling him closer. Tony felt lips press a kiss to his temple and he sighed contently, relaxing into the strong hold as sleep claimed him once more.
Steve sat propped up against the headboard; one large hand holding open a fantasy book. He remained completely immersed in the magical world of Harry Potter, every once a while resurfacing to ask Tony about whether all British people had horrible aunts, and what exactly is a hippogriff, a perplexed look on his handsome face. His other hand was running through his partner's hair, was lying across his lap, eyes positioned intensely on the news programme that was running on the wide screen television across from the bed. Every once and a while, he would make a comment on how there never seems to a shortage of crazes in America – "and yet, we get in trouble for wrecking a couple of buildings in mid-town Manhattan, that really needed to destroyed anyways".
Tony's eyes fluttered closed and he let out a pleased manly noise that was definitely not a purr. Steve laughed above him, and purposely pressed his fingers in a swirling motion against his scalp, encouraging the noise.
"You're just like a cat," Steve commented amused, "You love to have your head scratched."
"I like cats," Tony responded defensively, "Besides, it's not my fault you possess the hand skills of a god. It's really just un-urgh…" he trailed off, preening into the touch once more, all further thoughts gone.
Yes, he had missed this. Two weeks of interviews and press releases, of making appearances at technology contentions and on gadget shows – all at the insistence of Pepper and with much arguing on his part – had left him missing everything he had left behind.
"…Do you have to leave again soon?" Steve questioned.
Tony shifted his head to meet the blue eyed gaze, resting against his stomach. "…No, I'm not leaving anytime soon. You've got me for the next six months."
He grinned widely. "Good."
"You'll regret that before the times up."
"I doubt that."
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