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cap_ironman2008-07-25 10:06 am
smilingskull.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2008-07-25 10:06 am
Entry tags:
Fic - Peace, Love, and Bacon
Sorry for posting so much, I feel like a total hack. This is it for a bit, I promise.
Title: Peace, Love, and Bacon
Pairings/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Rating: PG
Fandom: A combo of Movie!Verse and the Avengers.
Warnings: Mentions of sex (very, very briefly).
Word Count: ~ 1275
Disclaimer: No own, no profit. 'Tis all good.
He’s accustomed to a few things first thing in the morning, just waking up. Sheet with thread counts so high they’re like liquid fabric, soft blankets and cushy down. A mattress designed by NASA. Peaceful sunlight, serenity, and calm. No overbearing noise, just the gentle hum of various electronics he’s got in his room.
However, this morning, he wakes up to sheets and a heavy quilt that isn’t his, and, in a brief moment of helplessness and panic, makes him feel like he’s back in a cave in the godforsaken desert. A mattress that he can tell has springs. There’s a window open, because he can hear the honk of car horns and the shriek of breaks, the tip-tap and the slap-slap of feet on the sidewalk. Fast paced voices, birds in the parkway trees outside. And, for the first time in recent memory, Tony Stark finds that he’s been woken up by harsh sunlight streaming in through the windows.
He squeezes his eyes shut, screws them up, as hard as he can, throws an arm across his face, and tries to remember where he is. Kidnapped? Well, judging from the furious honking and yelling, he’s still in Manhattan, so he can’t be too far away from Stark Tower. Ignoring the background noise, he concentrates on noises coming from inside the room he’s in. Something that sounds like cooking… and humming. Unless he’s been kidnapped by someone’s mother, this whole thing doesn’t seem very sinister.
The minute he identifies the food being cooked as bacon, he mental kicks himself. Twice. And then once more for good measure, for not remembering where he is. He’s in Steve’s bed, in Steve’s apartment, listening to Steve make breakfast. So being kidnapped by someone’s mother wasn’t too far off, actually. Except that there was no kidnapping (Tony was the one who suggested they crash there for the night) and ‘someone’s mother’ means ‘The Avengers den mother’. Tony sighs, rolls onto his back, and rubs at his eyes. He’s an idiot.
“’Smells good.” He mutters, his voice rough and cracked with sleep. All the yelling he did last night probably isn’t helping either.
“Finally gracing the living world with your presence, Sleeping Beauty?” Steve sounds like he’s turned away from Tony, working at the stove, and there’s a grin in his voice. Tony makes some noise that could be a ‘yes’, could be a ‘no’. Either way, Tony hears soft footsteps and then feels the dip of the mattress under his back. He lazily opens his eyes, looks up at Steve. He’s shirtless, his hair is slightly rumpled, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it yet, and he’s got a pair of dark blue sweatpants on.
“You need to spend more time without a shirt.” Tony says, yawns, stretches his arms out and pops his back. Steve just rolls his eyes. “No really, you’d make so many people happy. You’re all for peace, right? A shirtless you could bring about world peace.”
“I think your brain hasn’t turned on yet this morning.” Steve laughs, pokes at Tony’s temple. Tony just grins sheepishly in return.
“Oh, probably not.” Tony reaches up, traces the line of Steve’s collarbones. Steve captures Tony’s errant hand and brings it to his lips, places a kiss on the back of Tony’s hand. Tony simply says, “So, is that bacon burning now?”
“It’s sitting on a plate next to the stove.” Steve gives Tony a rather incredulous look. Tony just pulls Steve down to his level, kisses the corner of his mouth. Steve turns his head into a second kiss, braces his weight on his elbows, half sitting and half leaning. The kisses are soft and lazy, a drawn out, early morning kind of kiss.
“You taste like coffee.” Tony mumbles around kisses, between breaths and lips.
“That would be because I was drinking coffee, oddly enough.” Steve responds, the sentence broken in half by Tony’s mouth.
“Oddly enough.” Tony agrees. He could live the rest of his life like this, in this apartment, with Steve and early morning kisses and Steve’s really excellent cooking. (He’s learned to appreciate the small things that make him happy since the whole nearly-getting-blown-up-in-the-Middle-East thing happened. His therapist is so proud of him.) But the board of directors would come and drag him kicking and screaming back to board meetings, and the two Avengers communicators sitting on the side table would beep and shrill, and their lives would get in the way. And Tony and Steve have enough going on in their lives to keep a whole group of people occupied and running around, let alone just two people.
But every once and a while they get little moments like this, minutes and spaces in time that are just theirs, where their lives meet outside of costumes, armor and government agencies. Tony’s rather fond of those moments.
“Breakfast?” Steve murmurs against Tony’s mouth, and Tony nods.
“Breakfast.” He returns, and smiles up at Steve. “Breakfast sounds excellent.”
Steve returns his smile, ducks in for one more kiss and then hops off the bed, walks back to the kitchen. Tony sighs, content, throws off the covers and goes in search of his wayward pair of boxers that had gotten discarded in last nights activities. When those don’t show up, he instead just pulls on his jeans, which are more readily found.
Steve’s serving up all sorts of really excellent smelling food when Tony saunters over and drops on to one of the stools in the kitchen.
“Hey Steve?” He half drawls, half yawns.
“Yep?” Steve’s concentrating on collecting bagels from the toaster.
“I was serious about that world peace deal.”
Steve just throws a dishtowel at Tony’s head, and when Tony peels it off his face, Steve’s deposited the two plates on the counter in front of Tony and the empty stool next to him, and is reaching in to recollect the towel. Tony leans forward, hands over the towel, and captures Steve by the bicep, pulls him forward, kisses him again.
“Thanks for making breakfast.” Tony murmurs, resting his forehead against Steve’s.
“My pleasure.” Steve returns just as softly, and smiles.
A few notes of sorts.
I know Steve’s supposed to live in Brooklyn, but in my head he’s always lived on the Lower East Side. I figure it would also be a whole lot easier to get from the Lower East Side up to Columbus Circle, which is where Stark Tower supposedly is. And in the good old days, it’d be pretty much a straight shot up to the Avengers Mansion. Yeah, I probably put too much thought into this, haha. (Plus, for the sake of writing this, while I lived in Manhattan, I have never been to Brooklyn, and I like to write about things that I actually know the facts about. And researching a place is just not anywhere near the same as actually going/being there.)
I figure Steve’s apartment is your run of mill Pre-war building studio apartment. With fun 15 foot ceilings! Here’s a floor plan, because I’m a dork with way too much free time. (Based off of a friend’s apartment.)
I've noticed a disturbing trend where most of my fic includes food. And not in a whipped cream/strawberries/hand cuffs sort of way, but in a microwave burrito and bacon sort of way. I think my brain is telling me I'm hungry, through the power of the written word.
Totally unrelated, but shouldn’t Steve have a bit of an Irish accent? I could be totally wrong, but it just seems if you’re raised by Irish parents in a very Irish neighborhood, you’d have a bit of an accent of some kind. (Also, in the same vein as being seriously Irish, do we think Steve can get sunburned, or would the super solider serum take care of that? Because he’s rather fair skinned, and I’ve had this silly mental image for weeks of what he’d look like with a sunburn that he got while wearing the cowl. Greatest sunburn/tan lines ever? I think so.)
EDIT: Now with Sunburned!Steve fanart! :)
Title: Peace, Love, and Bacon
Pairings/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Rating: PG
Fandom: A combo of Movie!Verse and the Avengers.
Warnings: Mentions of sex (very, very briefly).
Word Count: ~ 1275
Disclaimer: No own, no profit. 'Tis all good.
He’s accustomed to a few things first thing in the morning, just waking up. Sheet with thread counts so high they’re like liquid fabric, soft blankets and cushy down. A mattress designed by NASA. Peaceful sunlight, serenity, and calm. No overbearing noise, just the gentle hum of various electronics he’s got in his room.
However, this morning, he wakes up to sheets and a heavy quilt that isn’t his, and, in a brief moment of helplessness and panic, makes him feel like he’s back in a cave in the godforsaken desert. A mattress that he can tell has springs. There’s a window open, because he can hear the honk of car horns and the shriek of breaks, the tip-tap and the slap-slap of feet on the sidewalk. Fast paced voices, birds in the parkway trees outside. And, for the first time in recent memory, Tony Stark finds that he’s been woken up by harsh sunlight streaming in through the windows.
He squeezes his eyes shut, screws them up, as hard as he can, throws an arm across his face, and tries to remember where he is. Kidnapped? Well, judging from the furious honking and yelling, he’s still in Manhattan, so he can’t be too far away from Stark Tower. Ignoring the background noise, he concentrates on noises coming from inside the room he’s in. Something that sounds like cooking… and humming. Unless he’s been kidnapped by someone’s mother, this whole thing doesn’t seem very sinister.
The minute he identifies the food being cooked as bacon, he mental kicks himself. Twice. And then once more for good measure, for not remembering where he is. He’s in Steve’s bed, in Steve’s apartment, listening to Steve make breakfast. So being kidnapped by someone’s mother wasn’t too far off, actually. Except that there was no kidnapping (Tony was the one who suggested they crash there for the night) and ‘someone’s mother’ means ‘The Avengers den mother’. Tony sighs, rolls onto his back, and rubs at his eyes. He’s an idiot.
“’Smells good.” He mutters, his voice rough and cracked with sleep. All the yelling he did last night probably isn’t helping either.
“Finally gracing the living world with your presence, Sleeping Beauty?” Steve sounds like he’s turned away from Tony, working at the stove, and there’s a grin in his voice. Tony makes some noise that could be a ‘yes’, could be a ‘no’. Either way, Tony hears soft footsteps and then feels the dip of the mattress under his back. He lazily opens his eyes, looks up at Steve. He’s shirtless, his hair is slightly rumpled, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it yet, and he’s got a pair of dark blue sweatpants on.
“You need to spend more time without a shirt.” Tony says, yawns, stretches his arms out and pops his back. Steve just rolls his eyes. “No really, you’d make so many people happy. You’re all for peace, right? A shirtless you could bring about world peace.”
“I think your brain hasn’t turned on yet this morning.” Steve laughs, pokes at Tony’s temple. Tony just grins sheepishly in return.
“Oh, probably not.” Tony reaches up, traces the line of Steve’s collarbones. Steve captures Tony’s errant hand and brings it to his lips, places a kiss on the back of Tony’s hand. Tony simply says, “So, is that bacon burning now?”
“It’s sitting on a plate next to the stove.” Steve gives Tony a rather incredulous look. Tony just pulls Steve down to his level, kisses the corner of his mouth. Steve turns his head into a second kiss, braces his weight on his elbows, half sitting and half leaning. The kisses are soft and lazy, a drawn out, early morning kind of kiss.
“You taste like coffee.” Tony mumbles around kisses, between breaths and lips.
“That would be because I was drinking coffee, oddly enough.” Steve responds, the sentence broken in half by Tony’s mouth.
“Oddly enough.” Tony agrees. He could live the rest of his life like this, in this apartment, with Steve and early morning kisses and Steve’s really excellent cooking. (He’s learned to appreciate the small things that make him happy since the whole nearly-getting-blown-up-in-the-Middle-East thing happened. His therapist is so proud of him.) But the board of directors would come and drag him kicking and screaming back to board meetings, and the two Avengers communicators sitting on the side table would beep and shrill, and their lives would get in the way. And Tony and Steve have enough going on in their lives to keep a whole group of people occupied and running around, let alone just two people.
But every once and a while they get little moments like this, minutes and spaces in time that are just theirs, where their lives meet outside of costumes, armor and government agencies. Tony’s rather fond of those moments.
“Breakfast?” Steve murmurs against Tony’s mouth, and Tony nods.
“Breakfast.” He returns, and smiles up at Steve. “Breakfast sounds excellent.”
Steve returns his smile, ducks in for one more kiss and then hops off the bed, walks back to the kitchen. Tony sighs, content, throws off the covers and goes in search of his wayward pair of boxers that had gotten discarded in last nights activities. When those don’t show up, he instead just pulls on his jeans, which are more readily found.
Steve’s serving up all sorts of really excellent smelling food when Tony saunters over and drops on to one of the stools in the kitchen.
“Hey Steve?” He half drawls, half yawns.
“Yep?” Steve’s concentrating on collecting bagels from the toaster.
“I was serious about that world peace deal.”
Steve just throws a dishtowel at Tony’s head, and when Tony peels it off his face, Steve’s deposited the two plates on the counter in front of Tony and the empty stool next to him, and is reaching in to recollect the towel. Tony leans forward, hands over the towel, and captures Steve by the bicep, pulls him forward, kisses him again.
“Thanks for making breakfast.” Tony murmurs, resting his forehead against Steve’s.
“My pleasure.” Steve returns just as softly, and smiles.
A few notes of sorts.
I know Steve’s supposed to live in Brooklyn, but in my head he’s always lived on the Lower East Side. I figure it would also be a whole lot easier to get from the Lower East Side up to Columbus Circle, which is where Stark Tower supposedly is. And in the good old days, it’d be pretty much a straight shot up to the Avengers Mansion. Yeah, I probably put too much thought into this, haha. (Plus, for the sake of writing this, while I lived in Manhattan, I have never been to Brooklyn, and I like to write about things that I actually know the facts about. And researching a place is just not anywhere near the same as actually going/being there.)
I figure Steve’s apartment is your run of mill Pre-war building studio apartment. With fun 15 foot ceilings! Here’s a floor plan, because I’m a dork with way too much free time. (Based off of a friend’s apartment.)
I've noticed a disturbing trend where most of my fic includes food. And not in a whipped cream/strawberries/hand cuffs sort of way, but in a microwave burrito and bacon sort of way. I think my brain is telling me I'm hungry, through the power of the written word.
Totally unrelated, but shouldn’t Steve have a bit of an Irish accent? I could be totally wrong, but it just seems if you’re raised by Irish parents in a very Irish neighborhood, you’d have a bit of an accent of some kind. (Also, in the same vein as being seriously Irish, do we think Steve can get sunburned, or would the super solider serum take care of that? Because he’s rather fair skinned, and I’ve had this silly mental image for weeks of what he’d look like with a sunburn that he got while wearing the cowl. Greatest sunburn/tan lines ever? I think so.)
EDIT: Now with Sunburned!Steve fanart! :)
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As for your question, Steve, I think, would probably have some remnets of an accent, but it might have faded during his adult life, so I'm not sure. Also, I don't know if he sunburns quite as easily as other people, but I like the idea of him getting a cowl shaped burn. I demand a fanart.
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And most adorable story.
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I demand tan-lines art^^
I think that he would not get sunburns that easily (human perfection kinda includes not-sunburned skin) but it´s hilarious^^
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http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y246/aturi/stevesunburn.png
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I had a plotbunny where the Avengers fly to Savage Land to kick ass and when they come back everyone has strange tan lines - except for Peter and Tony who now mock the others mercilessly
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And the last bit just made my day :).
I Believe in Harvey Dent.
Secondly, Tony's almost-but-not-quite panic attack was very believable.
Finally: Steve+Cowlburn+TDKReference=TOTAL WIN! (I love the idea that the viral marketing we went through - whysoserious, IBelieveInHarveyDent, GothamPD... - happened in a world with our movie stars and [most of] our movies.)
Awsomeness!
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This made me laugh so hard, because of course I know he's at Steve's place, and Steve really is a mother hen sometimes. *grinning*
I think a shirtless Steve really could bring about world peace, if he could just appear everywhere at once. *snickers* And I love that Steve didn't leave the bacon on the stove to burn. Very nice little turn around of the usual cliche of the food burning when they get absorbed in each other! Steve is just too conscientious. :-)
This was wonderfully warm and sweet. Thank you!
(Also, the sunburned!Steve fanart is hysterical. *grins* Good thing he doesn't have a secret identity!)
no subject
But every once and a while they get little moments like this, minutes and spaces in time that are just theirs--- ^_______^
Also sunburned steve! Ha! that's absolutely great!