Bouncing his weight lightly from one foot to the other, Steve waited with less than his usual patience as the elevator descended, passing swiftly between floors. Amped up with fidgety energy, he could feel the twitch of restless throbbing in the muscles of his calves, tendrils of agitation bringing a burning need to move into the forefront of his mind, and it was with a heightened level of eagerness that he looked toward his morning jog.
He'd overslept his normal four hours, his body demanding he make up for the early am bedtime, and that, coupled with the fact that much of the afternoon and evening before had been spent almost completely inactive, had Steve chomping at the bit to use some of the jittery energy that burned within him.
Being almost 6:30 in the morning, a full hour and a half past his usual wake-up, he wanted to get out into the city soon, before his favourite routes became too crowded.
He had one more stop to make first though, because he was kind of hoping for some company this morning.
Once or twice a week Clint and/or Natasha joined him, and he met Sam every Thursday. Even Rhodey on occasion, when their schedules lined up, would join him for an hour or so, usually followed by breakfast somewhere nearby.
While Steve really did enjoy the usually solitary nature of his morning jog, he never turned down company when it was offered, even though it meant he had to slow his pace, (or in Sam's case, continuously call 'on your left' and listen to the man mutter under his breath for the next lap). He knew that some of the others used those 'one-on-one' moments with him, either as friend or as team leader, to ask for advice, or voice concerns that they didn't feel comfortable voicing in front of everyone.
Steve himself used the times Rhodey joined him to bounce around concerns and ideas about their mutual best friend, which Rhodey, equal measures relieved and glad to add another member to the 'In Tony's best interest' club, answered to the best of his ability, with minimal badmouthing of said best friend.
Tony joining him was a rarity, for many reasons, chief amongst them being how insanely busy the genius usually was, and the fact that Tony "only did one type of strenuous physical activity, and it certainly wasn't jogging". But, once in a blue moon, usually when Tony was having a complete lack of success in the brain department, he'd feel the pull of a monotonous 'one step in front of the other' activity. Or sometimes, when Tony simply wanted to spend more time with Steve during particularly busy times, Steve would find himself jogging along, rubbing elbows with the person whose company he enjoyed above all others.
Which was why he felt kind of bad about the ulterior motive he occasionally possessed when he asked Tony to come jogging with him. Namely the hope that he would innocently run Tony so far into the ground, that pure exhaustion would make the genius sleep for the next day and a half.
Never let it be said that Captain America wasn't a strategically mastermind.
It was something that had worked in the past, one of only two or three methods with an, as of yet, 100% success rate. Surprisingly, methods involving sex only had an overall success rating of 92%, which Steve chose to credit to Tony's admirable work ethic, rather than his own prowess in the bedroom.
The success of this method, which hinged on him actually convincing Tony to join him on his morning jog, had in fact, very little to do with the jogging, and rather more to do with Tony's competitive nature, and inability to give in gracefully.
Steve had discovered, completely by accident of course, that Tony wouldn't say anything if Steve's pace was too fast, and he wouldn't back off gracefully. Tony, being Tony, would fight to keep up every step of the way.
And inevitably run himself into exhaustion.
'Nosedive into the footpath' exhaustion.
Admittedly, that had only been the once.
Steve was always much more careful now to regulate his speed when they jogged together, keeping pace with Tony rather than the other way round. And on the occasions where he actually wanted Tony too tired to move, he carefully set the pace so that they'd breach the tower perimeter before Steve had to sweep Tony off his feet, as his knees buckled and his eyes rolled.
It wasn't a method he used often, but on mornings like this one, when Tony hadn't been to bed in almost four days…well, Steve felt he was a little justified.
It was this thinking that followed him from the elevator, across the corridor and into the workshop.
Which was- quiet?
Not actually quiet, as in silent, but the decibel of the music was actually quite pleasant, rather than the usual head-splitting racket that greeted anyone who entered Tony's domain.
Unable to see his lover anywhere in the immediate area, Steve stepped further into the room, and assuming Tony was concealed somewhere deeper in the workshop, by shelf or machine, he opened his mouth to call- only to be stopped by the quiet beep from his left.
Turning, Steve grinned, "Hey Buddy- what are you up to?" , watching as Dummy rolled closer to him, strut held high, waving excitedly until Steve accommodated him with a small high five gesture.
"I'm looking for your Daddy- think you can help me?" He asked, waiting patiently as Dummy processed the request, knowing that the bot's search and locate programming was fairly sketchy, but with practice he was getting better.
A beep in the affirmative, and Dummy trundled away, rounding the corner to what was technically a small break room area, hosting an old sofa, coffee machine, small refrigerator and a sink. In reality though, it was just another section of the workshop, Tony having dismantled an entire engine on the poor little coffee table, bits and pieces strewn all about the area.
Rounding the corner after the bot, Steve found himself fighting an incredulous laugh at the sight that greeted him.
It looked like Tony had walked around the corner, seen the sofa, gone "Oh, sofa!", and simply flopped down over the closest arm, face planting into the soft cushioning at the other end.
Bent at the hips, legs dangling, feet still planted firmly on the floor, he was sound asleep.
Shaking his head with a fond exasperation that he'd come to know very well, Steve bodily lifted Tony, turning him easily as he did so, and moving a few steps along the couch front, he dragged his lover onto the sofa properly.
Despite the movement, which although infinitely gentle, had been rather abrupt, Tony barely stirred, as Steve had known he wouldn't. Once asleep, the world needed to be ending, the company collapsing, or Steve yelling, before Tony would wake before he was good and ready, which usually meant about three hours. After which Steve would need to pin him to the bed, preferably naked, to get him to sleep a more decent seven.
As he watched, Tony's entire reaction to being picked up and moved was to roll onto his side, curl his hands up beneath his head and breathe out a soft whuffling sigh.
Steve felt his amused grin soften to something gentler, more intimate. The restless energy that had been pushing him all morning subsided abruptly, replaced by a loose desire to just stand there and watch Tony sleep all day.
Watch long eyelashes flutter faintly against darkly circled eyes, skin a fragile and delicate wash of pale ivory, above lips bruised red by worrying teeth. Watch the darts of tongue, pink and glistening as it swept across slightly chapped lips.
Steve wasn't sure if it was the absolute vulnerability about Tony's sleeping form, the way he just relaxed, just let go, or the way he became softer, and lost the constant layer of sarcasm and defensiveness, but something about it, some innate, instinctual factor moved something deep inside, so much so, that Steve's chest ached with it.
When Tony was like this… Always, but especially when he was like this, he was just so impossibly gorgeous.
Steve never did get his run that morning.