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cap_ironman2009-04-20 11:36 pm
lupus-dragon.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2009-04-20 11:36 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Bathe You in the Light of Day
Companion piece to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deviouslint's amazing story Crack the Shutters. This is the same moment, taken from Steve's POV
Title: Bathe You in the Light of Day
Pairing: Steve/Tony (obviously)
Genre: Fluff, pure unadulterated fluff
Rating: PGish
Summary: A quiet moment captured
Word count: 894
A/N: Written fordeviouslint, who gives my artistic and literary abilities far too much credit. Beta'd by the fabulous cursor_mundi who now owns my soul.
Disclaimer: Not making any money. Just having fun.
In the glow of the morning light, his face slack in sleep, Tony looked younger, more innocent and care-free than Steve had ever seen him. Even before he’d learned that Iron Man and Tony Stark were the same person, he’d never once seen Tony look truly relaxed. Tony had not really been as care-free as he'd pretended, not back then, anyway. It hadn’t surprised Steve that the too-easy grin and reckless attitude had been a façade. Now, though, sleeping with one hand curled under his chin, eyelashes dark fans across his cheeks, Tony was transformed into the real Tony, the Tony Steve, and Steve alone, saw…
The first time he’d noticed this transformation was two weeks ago. Steve had been so moved by the way that sleep and the early morning sunlight changed Tony that he had felt compelled to commit the image to paper, to immortalize the moment. It had started as just a loose sketch of Tony’s body with particular attention paid to his completely unguarded face. Steve never expected to be able to return to the drawing, so he packed as much detail as he could into the twenty-minute sketch and put the book away before Tony woke.
He was surprised to find Tony sleeping in almost exactly the same position the next morning. The sketch came back out and, for ten minutes, Steve fine-tuned some of the details – a flex of Tony’s toes here, the curve of his lips there. Again, he put his book away before Tony woke, thinking that was the end of it, and again he was pleasantly surprised to find Tony in the same position the next morning.
Now, Two weeks later, he had a nearly completed drawing of a peaceful, sleeping Tony. With one set of blinds partially open, sun highlighting his sketchbook, Steve committed the final touches to the page. He wanted desperately to capture the glow of Tony’s skin, the warmth of the early morning sunlight where it caressed the contours of Tony’s body. Steve had thought he wanted something real, something physical, that he could show to people when they asked him what he saw in an obscenely rich former playboy, former weapons manufacturer. But now that he was nearly finished, he realized that no one else would ever actually see this drawing. It was far too intimate, almost an invasion of privacy, and it would have been were the subject not his lover; but most of all, Steve admitted to himself, he didn't want to share his Tony with anyone else.
Steve smiled to himself as he worked, shading with a tight cross hatch along one lean leg, or by rubbing the edge of his pencil along the page to capture the fine texture of silk sheets. He carefully outlined the highlights of Tony’s hair, conveying depth rather than flat, inky blackness. Occasionally, he looked up, biting his lip and frowning slightly as he tried to commit a detail to memory, or pressing his lips tightly together when Tony had shifted, just slightly, and he needed to make an adjustment to the shadows and highlights in his drawing. It didn’t happen often. Tony slept so deeply, so peacefully, that he might have been mistaken for a Greek statue if it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the burnished glow of his skin.
Steve had no idea how much time had passed, engrossed as he was with finishing the drawing. Eventually, though, he stopped, set his pencil down. As proud as he was of his rendition, the authentic Tony captured his attention, just as he had weeks before, and he just sat, watching Tony sleep.
“Hey.”
The sound of Tony’s voice, groggy and thick with sleep startled him. Steve jumped slightly, blushing, the tips of his ears turning pink.
“Hi. You’re awake,” he murmured, still trying to avoid disturbing the stillness of the room.
As he berated himself for stating the obvious, Steve didn’t hear Tony reply. He didn’t realize Tony had asked a question until his lover was standing behind him, peering over his shoulder. Heat radiated off of Tony’s body, still bed warm, despite sleeping with the covers pushed down around his ankles. His chest pressed lightly against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve turned slightly, closing his eyes, feeling the rich warmth of Tony’s scent filling his nose.
“That’s… not something you started this morning.” And Tony’s voice was so filled with wonder that Steve’s eyes snapped open. His blush deepened, his eyes fixed on the drawing, rather than on Tony.
“You always sleep like that,” he explained, speaking softly, embarrassed. “Or, really, you wind up that way by morning. With your arm tucked under you, facing the windows.” Two weeks of mornings finding Tony like that could not be coincidence. “There’s a half an hour or so, when the sun’s just coming up, when you look absolutely beautiful.” Steve finally turned to face Tony, smiling up at his lover despite the color spread across his cheeks. “I wanted to try to capture it.”
There was a pause, and Steve nervously waited for Tony to respond, to make some light hearted quip about only being beautiful for a half an hour. But when Tony finally spoke, his response surprised Steve.
“It was already yours,” Tony replied gently, placing a light kiss on his temple.
deviouslint's amazing story Crack the Shutters. This is the same moment, taken from Steve's POVTitle: Bathe You in the Light of Day
Pairing: Steve/Tony (obviously)
Genre: Fluff, pure unadulterated fluff
Rating: PGish
Summary: A quiet moment captured
Word count: 894
A/N: Written for
deviouslint, who gives my artistic and literary abilities far too much credit. Beta'd by the fabulous cursor_mundi who now owns my soul.Disclaimer: Not making any money. Just having fun.
In the glow of the morning light, his face slack in sleep, Tony looked younger, more innocent and care-free than Steve had ever seen him. Even before he’d learned that Iron Man and Tony Stark were the same person, he’d never once seen Tony look truly relaxed. Tony had not really been as care-free as he'd pretended, not back then, anyway. It hadn’t surprised Steve that the too-easy grin and reckless attitude had been a façade. Now, though, sleeping with one hand curled under his chin, eyelashes dark fans across his cheeks, Tony was transformed into the real Tony, the Tony Steve, and Steve alone, saw…
The first time he’d noticed this transformation was two weeks ago. Steve had been so moved by the way that sleep and the early morning sunlight changed Tony that he had felt compelled to commit the image to paper, to immortalize the moment. It had started as just a loose sketch of Tony’s body with particular attention paid to his completely unguarded face. Steve never expected to be able to return to the drawing, so he packed as much detail as he could into the twenty-minute sketch and put the book away before Tony woke.
He was surprised to find Tony sleeping in almost exactly the same position the next morning. The sketch came back out and, for ten minutes, Steve fine-tuned some of the details – a flex of Tony’s toes here, the curve of his lips there. Again, he put his book away before Tony woke, thinking that was the end of it, and again he was pleasantly surprised to find Tony in the same position the next morning.
Now, Two weeks later, he had a nearly completed drawing of a peaceful, sleeping Tony. With one set of blinds partially open, sun highlighting his sketchbook, Steve committed the final touches to the page. He wanted desperately to capture the glow of Tony’s skin, the warmth of the early morning sunlight where it caressed the contours of Tony’s body. Steve had thought he wanted something real, something physical, that he could show to people when they asked him what he saw in an obscenely rich former playboy, former weapons manufacturer. But now that he was nearly finished, he realized that no one else would ever actually see this drawing. It was far too intimate, almost an invasion of privacy, and it would have been were the subject not his lover; but most of all, Steve admitted to himself, he didn't want to share his Tony with anyone else.
Steve smiled to himself as he worked, shading with a tight cross hatch along one lean leg, or by rubbing the edge of his pencil along the page to capture the fine texture of silk sheets. He carefully outlined the highlights of Tony’s hair, conveying depth rather than flat, inky blackness. Occasionally, he looked up, biting his lip and frowning slightly as he tried to commit a detail to memory, or pressing his lips tightly together when Tony had shifted, just slightly, and he needed to make an adjustment to the shadows and highlights in his drawing. It didn’t happen often. Tony slept so deeply, so peacefully, that he might have been mistaken for a Greek statue if it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the burnished glow of his skin.
Steve had no idea how much time had passed, engrossed as he was with finishing the drawing. Eventually, though, he stopped, set his pencil down. As proud as he was of his rendition, the authentic Tony captured his attention, just as he had weeks before, and he just sat, watching Tony sleep.
“Hey.”
The sound of Tony’s voice, groggy and thick with sleep startled him. Steve jumped slightly, blushing, the tips of his ears turning pink.
“Hi. You’re awake,” he murmured, still trying to avoid disturbing the stillness of the room.
As he berated himself for stating the obvious, Steve didn’t hear Tony reply. He didn’t realize Tony had asked a question until his lover was standing behind him, peering over his shoulder. Heat radiated off of Tony’s body, still bed warm, despite sleeping with the covers pushed down around his ankles. His chest pressed lightly against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve turned slightly, closing his eyes, feeling the rich warmth of Tony’s scent filling his nose.
“That’s… not something you started this morning.” And Tony’s voice was so filled with wonder that Steve’s eyes snapped open. His blush deepened, his eyes fixed on the drawing, rather than on Tony.
“You always sleep like that,” he explained, speaking softly, embarrassed. “Or, really, you wind up that way by morning. With your arm tucked under you, facing the windows.” Two weeks of mornings finding Tony like that could not be coincidence. “There’s a half an hour or so, when the sun’s just coming up, when you look absolutely beautiful.” Steve finally turned to face Tony, smiling up at his lover despite the color spread across his cheeks. “I wanted to try to capture it.”
There was a pause, and Steve nervously waited for Tony to respond, to make some light hearted quip about only being beautiful for a half an hour. But when Tony finally spoke, his response surprised Steve.
“It was already yours,” Tony replied gently, placing a light kiss on his temple.
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