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deviouslint.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2009-04-19 06:33 pm
deviouslint.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2009-04-19 06:33 pm
Entry tags:
Crack the Shutters (PG-13)
Title: Crack the Shutters
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cursor_mundi for a truly marvelous beta job and title rescue. Her beta work is a superpower. Fic is for lupus_dragon, because she (like Steve) does not give her drawing ability enough credit.
Word Count: 729
Summary: Tony wakes up to find that Steve has been sketching him. The finished product surprises Tony.
Tony reluctantly cracked his eyes open, nearly wincing at the splash of light on his face. The tall windows in the bedroom were spilling light all over the bed, and Tony wasn't eager to open his eyes and face the morning. Besides, he knew already that Steve wasn’t in bed anymore. The warm weight he’d quickly gotten used to was gone for the day; what reason would Tony have to get up so damned early? But the faintest skritch skritch skritching of a pencil moving rapidly across high quality paper had caught his attention and made him peek, and he’d discovered why there was so much light in the room. Steve had opened one set of blinds, and now he was sketching, sitting by the windows, bathed in warm, golden sunlight, his hair catching in glints and glimmers.
In his morning disorientation, Tony couldn't figure out why Steve was facing inward, toward the bed, instead of out toward the skyline to draw. And then, abruptly, he realized what the reason must be – Steve was sketching him.
It was oddly touching, and so Tony stayed as he was, sprawled out in their bed, pretending to sleep. It wasn't much of a burden, even if he did have to put up with the light on his face. He’d kicked the sheets off at some point – not unusual – and tucked one arm under himself in his sleep. He realized, through the morning haze, that this meant Steve was sketching Tony naked. It wasn’t anything Steve hadn’t seen before, after all, even if it was surprisingly… intimate. Sort of really flattering, actually, and Tony almost smiled. Tony knew he was attractive—he took advantage of his looks on a regular basis in the boardroom and with the press—but it still amazed him, sometimes, that Steve felt the same. He couldn’t picture Steve asking him to model, though -- especially not nude, even less in their own bed -- so Tony was glad he hadn’t ruined everything by moving.
Besides, he got to watch Steve draw, a rare enough occurrence with their hectic lives. Tony stared sleepily through mostly-closed eyes, studying the man in the chair through his eyelashes. Steve would glance up frequently – swift, intense looks – but mostly he focused on the sketchbook in front of him. Tony took in the furrow of concentration between Steve’s eyebrows, smiled just a little when Steve would poke his tongue out, at the corner of his mouth, and gently bite his bottom lip. Steve’s movements were quick, precise, a lot like how Steve looked at him. Or maybe toward him – Tony wasn’t really sure. Steve would tilt the pencil occasionally. One angle, then another; back. Motions Tony recognized from his own work in the shop, even if he couldn’t understand the effects in the same way. Captivated by Steve’s focus, he watched until Steve had set down the pencil and was just gazing fixedly at Tony. “Hey,” he said softly, the rasp of sleep still thick in his voice.
Steve flinched, just a little bit. “Hi. You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Can I see?” He didn’t wait for a response, though; he got to his feet and moved to stand behind Steve. Tony leaned over Steve’s shoulder so he could see the sketchbook – and was surprised. He’d expected a loose sketch, Steve trying to capture something. Instead he was looking at a completed nude of himself, obviously done with loving attention over several sessions. Tony traced the lines with his own eyes, marveled at how Steve had captured the sweep of light falling over Tony’s body, the soft glow of skin, so real that Tony almost tried to touch the page, the gentle sweep of hair with sun streaked highlights. Steve had even captured individual eyelashes, resting in a soft fan against Tony’s cheek. “That’s... not something you started this morning.”
“You always sleep like that,” Steve said. He blushed, but kept talking. “Or, really, you wind up that way by morning. With your arm tucked under you, facing the windows. There’s a half an hour or so, when the sun’s just coming up, when you look absolutely beautiful.” He smiled up at Tony. “I wanted to try to capture it.”
For a moment, Tony had absolutely no idea what to say. “It was already yours,” he said, finally, leaning down to kiss Steve’s temple.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Many thanks to
cursor_mundi for a truly marvelous beta job and title rescue. Her beta work is a superpower. Fic is for lupus_dragon, because she (like Steve) does not give her drawing ability enough credit.Word Count: 729
Summary: Tony wakes up to find that Steve has been sketching him. The finished product surprises Tony.
Tony reluctantly cracked his eyes open, nearly wincing at the splash of light on his face. The tall windows in the bedroom were spilling light all over the bed, and Tony wasn't eager to open his eyes and face the morning. Besides, he knew already that Steve wasn’t in bed anymore. The warm weight he’d quickly gotten used to was gone for the day; what reason would Tony have to get up so damned early? But the faintest skritch skritch skritching of a pencil moving rapidly across high quality paper had caught his attention and made him peek, and he’d discovered why there was so much light in the room. Steve had opened one set of blinds, and now he was sketching, sitting by the windows, bathed in warm, golden sunlight, his hair catching in glints and glimmers.
In his morning disorientation, Tony couldn't figure out why Steve was facing inward, toward the bed, instead of out toward the skyline to draw. And then, abruptly, he realized what the reason must be – Steve was sketching him.
It was oddly touching, and so Tony stayed as he was, sprawled out in their bed, pretending to sleep. It wasn't much of a burden, even if he did have to put up with the light on his face. He’d kicked the sheets off at some point – not unusual – and tucked one arm under himself in his sleep. He realized, through the morning haze, that this meant Steve was sketching Tony naked. It wasn’t anything Steve hadn’t seen before, after all, even if it was surprisingly… intimate. Sort of really flattering, actually, and Tony almost smiled. Tony knew he was attractive—he took advantage of his looks on a regular basis in the boardroom and with the press—but it still amazed him, sometimes, that Steve felt the same. He couldn’t picture Steve asking him to model, though -- especially not nude, even less in their own bed -- so Tony was glad he hadn’t ruined everything by moving.
Besides, he got to watch Steve draw, a rare enough occurrence with their hectic lives. Tony stared sleepily through mostly-closed eyes, studying the man in the chair through his eyelashes. Steve would glance up frequently – swift, intense looks – but mostly he focused on the sketchbook in front of him. Tony took in the furrow of concentration between Steve’s eyebrows, smiled just a little when Steve would poke his tongue out, at the corner of his mouth, and gently bite his bottom lip. Steve’s movements were quick, precise, a lot like how Steve looked at him. Or maybe toward him – Tony wasn’t really sure. Steve would tilt the pencil occasionally. One angle, then another; back. Motions Tony recognized from his own work in the shop, even if he couldn’t understand the effects in the same way. Captivated by Steve’s focus, he watched until Steve had set down the pencil and was just gazing fixedly at Tony. “Hey,” he said softly, the rasp of sleep still thick in his voice.
Steve flinched, just a little bit. “Hi. You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Can I see?” He didn’t wait for a response, though; he got to his feet and moved to stand behind Steve. Tony leaned over Steve’s shoulder so he could see the sketchbook – and was surprised. He’d expected a loose sketch, Steve trying to capture something. Instead he was looking at a completed nude of himself, obviously done with loving attention over several sessions. Tony traced the lines with his own eyes, marveled at how Steve had captured the sweep of light falling over Tony’s body, the soft glow of skin, so real that Tony almost tried to touch the page, the gentle sweep of hair with sun streaked highlights. Steve had even captured individual eyelashes, resting in a soft fan against Tony’s cheek. “That’s... not something you started this morning.”
“You always sleep like that,” Steve said. He blushed, but kept talking. “Or, really, you wind up that way by morning. With your arm tucked under you, facing the windows. There’s a half an hour or so, when the sun’s just coming up, when you look absolutely beautiful.” He smiled up at Tony. “I wanted to try to capture it.”
For a moment, Tony had absolutely no idea what to say. “It was already yours,” he said, finally, leaning down to kiss Steve’s temple.