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cap_ironman2008-12-29 02:32 pm
[Fanfic, R] I want you to want me
Title : I want you to want me (and not the things I like!)
Characters: Steve (POV), Tony
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff, Crack
Summary: See title ;)
AN: for
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mizuko060 __________________________________________________________________
It took me really long to realize it; I think we had been together for at least two years when Janet and Wanda had me watch this movie, with Julia Roberts, about a bride who runs away, when I first notice Tony's odd behavior, or more like, I became suspicious.
I'm not a man to jump to conclusions, so I decided to watch my beloved one close to find out if I was being right, hoping to be proven wrong.
__________________________________________________
“You sure you want some?”
Tony nodded eagerly, grinning from ear to ear and shoving his plate aside so I could put the muesli bowl down. I watched him fill the bowl to the rim with Alpen Special Birchermuesli. Since I moved in with him, I haven't had muesli for breakfast, partly because we eat whatever the housekeeper bought, and partly because I'm not the biggest fan of it myself. It's healthy and good food, but I like pancakes a lot better; but to test my hypothesis, it was just the right thing.
“Are you sure you like it? I mean, I love muesli, but it's not everybody's favorite thing Tony-”
But he had already added milk to it and grabbed a spoon, piled up like a Russian coal ship.
“Hey, it's healthy – and who says I don't like muesli?”
I didn't say a word and focused on eating my own muesli, now and then glancing at my Tony, who smiled back when he noticed me watch him; but from the corner of my eye I can see he's gagging on the dried pears and shudders each time swallowing raisins.
He needed four cups of coffee to wash it down, and even then he was still looking miserable; but as I say,
“It's a real heroes breakfast, I think we should have that every morning.”
He grins at me and nods, and starts telling me about his new armor type, and I know he'll be on a mission tomorrow morning so he doesn't have to tell me the truth about him hating muesli; and I haven't got any idea what to make out if this.
__________________________________________________
I started Phase two of my 'confirm Tony's not lying to you' plan on New Year's Day.
It was 5 am in the morning; we had gone to bed only half an hour before, having celebrated with the other at the Tower the whole night long. I made as much noise as possible getting into my jogging suit and shoes, deliberately switching on the lights in the bedroom and knocking over anything in my way to the door.
“Hu...? Steve, where are you going?”
Tony sat on the bed, looking at with eyes like an owl's at noon, hair tousled at sticking from his head in impossible angles. Cheerfully I yelled at him, not subduing my voice at all,
“I'm going for a jog, I'll be back until breakfast. I love to jog in the morning when the city is quiet and peaceful. Sorry for waking you up; I know you don't like to jog-”
“Who says I don't like to jog...”
Groaning Tony rolled out of bed, staggering to the closet and roaming it until he found something remotely jogging suit like. Whistling I followed him downstairs, frowning as we passed the coffee maker without making a stop (though Tony looked at it with such longing eyes I felt like I had to smack him), innocently asking him as I closed the door, and started to warm up,
“And here I thought you were a morning grouch!”
Tony snarled at me, clumsily trying to copy my moves.
“Morning grouch? I'm always the first one who's up!”
Unimpressed by his foul mood (I think he didn't even realize he was in one), I started to jog, following the alley down to the main road,
“That's because you usually don't sleep at all when you're working on a project hon! But really, you like to jog - who'd have guessed!”
Tony trudged through the cold park, obstinately fighting to keep up with me, soon being too out of breath to answer me; the second we were indoors again, he collapsed on the floor, gasping for air like a fish on land. I stretched and said to him, far to cheerful,
“How I love to jog in the morning! I understand most people not liking to-”
My lover cracked an eye open, drawing in a ragged breath, sounding like a broken vacuum cleaner.
“But – huuuuur- I like to! Huurr- just a -hurr- bit out off – hurrr -shape-”
I felt bad for tormenting him like this, but I had to be sure before confronting him; but for today, I could be nice to him again.
“Would you like some coffee?”
His affirming sigh was full of love and gratitude, like a drowning man's on seeing the shore.
In my head I can hear all the people of America swear at me, saying what a mean bastard I am for treating the man I love this way. But I had to know for sure!
____________________________________________________________
We jog together every morning after this, and I think I could bear Tony wheezing next to like an asthmatic steam train if weren't telling me about how much he loves to jog too all the time. It's becoming more desperate every passing day; realizing that Tony forces himself to like things I like was like opening a floodgate. Now I see that Tony hates sneakers, can't stand being awoken before 9 am, despises fruit cake, red tea and strawberries and thinks the only thing more boring than working out is working out in the evening.
But maybe this is all just a big coincidence? Maybe I'm just too eager to see those little signs because they prove my point? Tony is a honest man, and if he lies to somebody, he does it for a damn good reason; so if I think he lies to me, but there's no reason – isn't it more likely than he's being true?
________________________________________
So when we were watching football (Tony thought I still thought he liked football as much as I did), and during a break I got up and asked Tony,
“Tony, would you like a sandwich?”
He blinked at me (probably having recalculated the Avengers fundings whilst watching TV), nodding absently.
“Yeah, sure, why not.”
I paused, leaning against the door frame, counting to ten to give him some time to wake up from his private mathematical wonderland.
“Okay, what do you want on your sandwich? We've got tuna, peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, jam, mayo and mixed pickles.”
Tony looked at me – rather lost – and said, that he'd take whatever I wanted, so I didn't have to bother using two different knives.
Five minutes later, I came back carrying a plate, two enormous sandwiches lying on it; wordlessly Tony took one and ate it, face set in stone, not saying one word about me putting everything on them. They tasted horrible, and I had to mobilize my old WW II camp taste buds (everything cooked my our cooks coming from our country is good) to get it down to my stomach and stay there.
When I was finished (Tony wasn't even halfway through his), I took a big gulp soda to wash it down and said, with utter conviction,
“Now that is what I call a sandwich! There's no better in the whole wide world, don't you think Tony!”
He was as pale as a sheet, and I felt horrible watching him eat this monstrous sandwich; but he smiled at me (faintly) and nodded, his voice barely shaking,
“Yeah, I've never eaten anything this, this - all embracing. It's really something, isn't it.”
I think he was close to crying, so I reach for the bread, and said to
“Are you gonna eat that? I'm still as hungry as a bear, and-”
The sandwich was in my hand within a split second, and I think Tony never loved me as much as he did right in that moment.
“Really? Well, I'm stuffed anyway, so why don't you eat it, it's delicious, of course, but I had a big lunch and all that snacks and, so take, it take it!”
Tony kept watching me with big eyes as I finished the sandwich, putting me on a pedestal and writing MY HERO in golden letters on it.
(My stomach was hating me for days to come, but I couldn't care less.)
When the game's over, I turnoff the TV and gently pull Tony over, getting him sit to on the sofa so he's facing me.
“Tony, there is something very important I need to talk to you about.”
His blue eyes are bright with panic, and I can almost hear his brain race to check all the possible wrong-doings I could be referring too; that's another thing we need to talk about one day, you feeling guilty and responsible for anything – but not now.
“Tony, please don't get me wrong, but I've been watching you for more than two months now, and there's no doubting it – you pretend to like things just because I like them! Why are you doing that!”
He huffs and leans back, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
“Steve, don't be ridiculous, why should I do that? We just have a lot of things in common, which doesn't mean I'm copying you-”
I sigh and shove the empty plate towards him, frowning.
“And what was that? Tony, this was the worst sandwich ever produced by humankind, and you said it was delicious! And don't you dare to tell me it was, for I have eaten mildewy bread with rotten tomatoes which tasted better! Tony, please, be honest – why are you making fun of me like this? Did you think I'd never notice your odd behavior? Was this some mean test?”
He looks at me alarmed, shaking his head,
“No! I'd never do that! Steve, please, I wasn't testing you, or making fun of you... I only...”
Tony stops and averts his eyes, I don't believe what I see, he's blushing – I haven't ever seen him blush before, like a shy little boy on the schoolyard, it startles me.
“Hon, look at me – I'm not mad at you, okay, I believe you, but just tell me why you did do that. Please.”
But he can't look at me, plucking at the blanket covering the couch, beating round the bush.
“I- well, you are- uhm, how do I explain this – I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you, it's just-”
Tony finally looks up from his fringe plucking hands, looking deep into my eyes, searching for something, and I don't dare to blink, afraid he'll get the wrong idea like the lady in the movie.
After a small eternity his frown disappears, he's relaxing, a faint smile on his lips as he explains himself.
“Steve, you are... Uhm, you and I are different – okay, this sounds stupid, but I'm getting there, okay, you and I are very different, for you grew up in the 30ties and 40ties, and you're a real gentleman and to you a lover – a partner is something, uhm... completive?”
I nod, not having the slightest idea what he's trying to tell me, but I think he needs some encouragement. This isn't easy to him, not at all, he's back to plucking the fringes.
“When you and I got together, I – wow, you've got no idea how I spend those weeks, walking on sunshine and... Haha, I still do, still do, but I realized, that you're idea of a lover is different than mine, or I thought you'd think like this – I mean, in your time people married to stay together, because they really meant what they said as in forever and ever, you didn't just get a divorce or move out when you had enough or found you two didn't fit together. People worked on staying together, they changed and... “
I'm still nodding, like a bobble head figure, beginning to see the light.
“And you thought that you had to change for I expected you to change?”
Your eyes are full of sorrow as they look up and meet mine, your eyes are nodding but you shake your head, smiling,
“No, that sounds to harsh-”
But I interrupt you, feeling sorry for not having realized any sooner.
“Tony, it's the truth, and I'm sorry for it... It was so comfortable, too comfortable us having the 'same' interest and tastes; I was too lazy to give it a minute's time to wonder if it was maybe for you not being honest with yourself. Tony, I'm sorry.”
He's quick to play it down, laughing and taking my hand, intertwining our fingers as he speaks,
“I was being honest to myself, in a way, for I was honest about wanting this to work... And it's not like you're likes are unhealthy or bad at all, quite the opposite-”
“I made you eat muesli with pears. And I hate dried pears myself.”
We both laugh at that, and he comes closer, resting his head on my shoulder, tired, probably still feeling sick from that dreadful sandwich.
“So, no more muesli?”
“No more muesli, I promise.”
“And you're okay with me not wearing socks?”
Actually, that's something I'd like him to keep, for his feet are always cold, but I nod anyway, playing with his soft black hair,
“Yes, I'm okay with that.”
He snuggling up against me, and I wonder, this sound - is he purring?
“No more fresh-squeezed carrot juice?”
“No more. And no more morning jogs,strawberry ice cream, Steak Tatar, sneakers or football matches – unless you'd like to keep me company of course. ”
He wraps his arms round me, placing a quick kiss on my cheek and a longer one my lips; and oh, he's definitely purring.
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I can't imagine Tony in socks, whaaa!
=Ö.Ö=
Thought that might be a nice idea for the next Steve!pov fic -
A man on a mission or the Story Captain America on the look out for sock Tony Stark might like to wear
Yeha! God bless chocolate, comments and complete crack ideas XD!
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Awhawhawhaaaaaaaaaaaw.....Steve, you meanie! XD
This was so adorable...I love that it's once again in STEVE!POV! and he's on a MISSION! Those little experiments of his...I gotta say...I burst out laughing several times. I mean, the muesli, and Tony's insistance that he LOVED the stuff. And the jogging of course, and Tony's subsequent wheezing. And OF COURSE the hooorid sandwhiches; the way you wrote it...Tony's disgust was palpable. XD And I love how he stares at Steve eating the rest of it in a kind of reverent awe. LOL!
And the coffee machine! You even added the coffee machine! I swear, that lil' device and Steve are one day going to have an EPIC DUEL for their beloved Tony's heart. ^^
The conversation at the end made me feel all warm inside, with Steve finally clearing things up and then the heartwarming cuddles. I love how you write Tony so stubborn, yet vulnerable. Also, the puuuuurring. That's too cute!
I love how you write, and I think you reeeeally have a knack for Steve's voice. ^.^ Keep it up!
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Ö.Ö Epic duel for Tony, Coffee Maker vs Captain America... GODDESS LOL!
XD I wonder if Tony has installed coffee packs in his armor to give himself a shot (like with painkillers) when he's getting tired *Lol*
Oh, Tony definitely has got a Coffee Armor somewhere, with cookie gadget and milk canon :muahahaa!: CRAAAACK!