When Steve can feel Tony’s arm wrapped around his neck, when he can feel his forehead up against him and they’re just together and happy, for a moment he can forget about everything else. Just for tonight, they could just as easily be in an apartment that Tony had rented in a city somewhere. A temporary place that came stocked with kitchen supplies, and Steve’s cooking dinner because while a mission had taken them here, neither of them wanted to see anyone else for the night.

And it feels so perfect — the way the hot water boils into the air, raising the temperature in a place that’s usually feels so cold and unwelcoming — and the fragrance, mmhn smelling the fragrance of tomatoes and garlic almost makes this place feel like it could be a home. Like people actually live and cook and eat here. The only other time Steve’s felt that way was the day he made Tony breakfast.

The kiss on his forehead feels so sweet, and Steve has to wonder how it was ever possible for them to be fighting each other. He’d be willing to do almost anything to make sure that never happens again.

“Yeah?” He grins. “Me too.” A third date sounds fantastic, really, and as he listens for a moment at the sound of water boiling, Steve estimates he’s got about another minute before he should go check on the pasta. So he sets his spoon down on the counter and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist, careful to not put any pressure too high up.

“So,” he says, transparently playful, like what he’s about to say is going to be a tease. “How’s it feel to be taller than me?”