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Daycycle 124 [January 29 - February 4]

daycycle 124

[Jan 29 - Feb 4]

[OOC Plotting for this Dacycle can be found here.]

Early Morning [0800 - 0900] — All Troubleshooters Report for Duty

No Specials will be selected for a mission today.

Morning & Afternoon [0900 - 1600] — Service Firm Positions
All Troubleshooters not assigned a mission should report to their Service Firm for their daily duties.

At 0900, Allison Argent will be reassigned to Armed Forces' Very Special Forces firm under Steve Rogers.

At 1300, VIOLET judge Bethany Abbott will be discovered dead in her chambers. Her death will ultimately be ruled murder by poisonous gas. Mind Control will immediately begin running coverage on her accomplishments, including the controversial decision less than a week ago to drop the treason charges against Oliver Queen and Parker and return them to Alpha. Once again, the letters "MOD" will be found at the crime scene. This time carved across Abbott's desk underneath her slumped body.

Gracie Cannell will be pulled from her blog to cover the breaking news due to her Special status.
News of the murder will spread like wildfire across Alpha, inciting fear in higher clearance citizens because VIOLET citizens were believed to be untouchable. In lower clearance citizens, the event will be enough to get ASS vocal again. Within hours there will be anti-special messages spray painted across Alpha.

Evening [1600 - 2200] — Citizen Improvement
All Alpha citizens are encouraged to better themselves through Alpha’s wide variety of educational, entertainment and cultural opportunities offered each evening. Attending these sanctioned events are not mandatory, but is highly encouraged by The Computer. Citizens choosing not to take advantage of these opportunities, have a growing number of other options available to them in how to spend their hard earned credits and free time.

Tonight’s event will be at 1800 in the Wagon Wheel, floor 25, Room H and will be held by the Extreme Ironing Club. This group is for those Alpha citizens who can't get their uniforms wrinkle-free enough. (Though anyone who may attend this incredibly boring sounding meeting, will actually find an established Free Enterprise dice game in progress instead.)

During the dinner rush, at 1900 a group of twenty ASS members in masks and armed with steel bars will form a brief demonstration in the Commissary in which they chant "Down with Specials." If there happens to be any Specials present in the Commissary at that time, they will attack them with malice.

Alpha Curfew Restrictions
All Alpha citizens should be in their quarters within the Wagon Wheel by 2200, unless they’ve been given permission from a GREEN or higher clearance level citizen. Sleeping Aid gas is dispelled each night in the Wagon Wheel at 2200 to assist citizens in getting a productive sleeping period.

Confession Booths
There are hundreds of confession booths available around Alpha Complex if a citizen would like to communicate directly with the computer. Please use these confession booths to report mission statuses, report treason or terrorist acts, unregistered mutants, confess your trespasses against Alpha Complex, request propaganda or speak with Your Friend, The Computer, at any time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a moment, no matter how brief, that Tony had hoped that they could just move past all this without addressing any of it, but... Well. Steve asks that question, and honestly it's not surprising at all.

"Nothing," he assures him and even tries to smile at him, even if he can tell by Steve's expression that he's not being very convincing. Shifting slightly in his seat, he forces down a sigh. "Nothing, it's...I know it looks pretty awful. All of this," he motions to his chest uncomfortably, once again his eyes focusing on anything other than Steve for a moment.

"You know, I used to have no problem taking off my shirt before." There's a small wry smirk as he speaks. "Now, though, it's... I guess I'm not used to it anymore."

There had been one scar in particular, near the bottom of the arc reactor, that Steve hadn’t been able to place. It hadn’t been a gunshot, and it had been closer to a stab wound, but the healing doesn’t match exactly. He still wonders where that’s from.

But Tony’s assurance really isn’t convincing at all, and then he seems uncomfortable even talking about it — and Steve still can’t quite put it together. To him, the scars don’t make Tony ugly, or hideous. They make him strong. So in Steve’s mind, the only reason that Tony could be this uncomfortable, is if he’s embarrassed that he’d gotten those scars in the first place. But that doesn’t feel right either. Tony’s a proud person, but he’s not so proud that he thinks he’s untouchable.

It’s … difficult, how little sense Steve can make out of this, and Tony’s still not looking at him.

“Yeah?” he asks, when Tony says that about his shirts, and a for a moment, he plays along. “Well, I think I’d get jealous, if you really had no problems taking off your shirt.”

But soon enough, that playfulness eases into gentleness, and Steve lifts his hand to slide up against Tony’s cheek. Lightly, he guides Tony back to him, and leans in for a soft kiss. It’s much more chaste than what they’ve gotten used to, especially after what Tony’s showed him, but it’s mean to help soothe Tony more than distract him.

Even when Steve pulls back, he doesn’t go far. Instead, he just leans himself into Tony’s shoulder, and let’s Tony do the same. Together, they make a little arch with, but the important part to Steve is that a position like this still lets them be close, but it doesn’t force any eye contact from Tony.

“Why is it hard to look at me?” he finally asks.

Tony's lips twitch into a small smile when Steve plays along and mentions that he would get jealous of him taking off his shirt without a problem. The gentleness that Steve is using with him isn't something he's entirely used to, but it's a pleasant surprise. It makes something inside him relax a little, to the point that by the time that Steve is kissing him, his shoulders relax a little all over again.

But then Steve asks that impossible question, and Tony breathes out a sort of sigh under his breath. It hurts to do it, because there's a twinge of pain immediately as he breathes out, but it comes out almost before he can stop himself from doing so.

"It looks...awful." Hideous, he means to say, but apparently even that word alone is hard to get out. "The bomb left a lot of recent scarring that I'm still trying to get used to, I guess. Including the reactor. Then you add everything else, and it..." He pauses for a moment before shrugging very slightly, and continuing a lot more quietly than how he had been speaking, "I thought it'd...scare you or something."

Or at least cause some sort of pity look that Tony cannot possibly deal with. Because, while he's not fond of his scars, he doesn't want pity for them, either.

Being gentle, of all things, is honestly a side of him that Steve’s never shown Tony. Being gentle isn’t a luxury that Captain America had been able to afford back home. But this is different. It’s Tony’s comfort he’s worried about tonight, and as Steve listens to Tony explain, all he can think about is one question over and over again: Why would it scare me?

It takes Steve a moment of silence before he realizes — it’s not that Tony thinks Steve would be afraid of him. No, Tony’s worried that his scars, the reactor, his past, all of that would scare Steve away. Suddenly, the lack of eye contact suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Steve pulls back, his movements soft as he slips his hand back around Tony’s cheek and gently guides him to make eye contact again.

“Can I show you something?”

Being a guy gives Tony an unfair advantage in this situation. Steve grew up at a time in which close friendships between men was something to be cherished, and while he’d never had his feelings extend past friendship in those situations, he’s still used to things like seeing other men with their shirts off and being comfortable with that. But if Tony had been a dame? Steve would’ve never asked her to take off her shirt. Never in a million years. He also wouldn’t be comfortable taking off his own shirt in front of her. Like he’s about to do.

Once Tony nods, Steve unzips the top of his GREEN jumpsuit, revealing the same cotton shirt he’d had on when he’d been shot five days ago, and his arms cross over his chest and his fingers tug the corners of his shirt up until Steve can lift the fabric over his head.

And yeah, by all ways of measuring it, Steve’s body looks picture perfect.

“When I was little, I got into a fight with a kid at school. He’d been throwin’ rocks at another boy on the playground. Said it was cause his family was Italian and so they didn’t belong in America. I didn’t think it was right so I stepped in. Got hit by a rock so sharp … right here … that my Ma had to take me to the hospital just to make sure I’d be alright.”

But when Steve says right here and points to spot on his side, there’s nothing there except perfect skin.

“After I got the serum, that scar disappeared. Gone like nothin’ ever happened.” Steve pauses, eyes glancing out into the distance for a second before he looks at Tony again. He hadn’t thought about that memory for years.

“Back in New York, when we were fighting the Chitauri, I got scraped and cut so many times I lost count. My uniform afterwards, you saw, it was fallin’ apart. I remember — before we’d figured out how to close the gate — I’d gotten bombed out of a building and my body was thrown a few stories down onto a car. A piece of metal cut left a gash down my left side … here. But that’s gone too. Like it never happened.”

There’s suddenly a moment when Steve realizes what he’s admitted: that the serum is working again. Tony’s probably put it together by now, but the serum isn’t the point of him saying these things, and he doesn’t want it to be, so after a brief hesitation, Steve just keeps going.

“Five days ago, I was shot in the stomach, trying to save the girl from INFRARED who had no business being dragged onto that stage for show and tell. But that scar … and the one from the shot I took to the back, they’re both gone too.

“I’m not complaining, because the serum gave me a chance that every kid wants growin’ up: the opportunity to make a difference for his country. But Tony, your scars — they don’t make you look awful. Seeing you with so many of ‘em? It doesn’t scare me. It just reminds me how much you’ve had to go through, and that despite everything people have thrown at you, you refuse to give in, or give up. It makes you look stronger than I ever will.”

Steve gives him a small, comforting grin.

“I gotta be honest. I probably look like the kinda guy who goes to the gym every morning, but isn’t ever willing to risk his life — or his perfect skin — to protect what really matters. But you … I see you and I …”

What could he say, except the truth?

“Tony, you blow me away.”

Edited (no business instead of business, whoops) 2017-02-17 14:23 (UTC)

It's hard to tell what Steve is going to do when he asks if he could show him something, but Tony just gives a slight nod anyway. It's the last he could do, after all, considering what he has been doing for him so far, and how he has been treating him. Then he starts unzipping his jumpsuit, and...Tony pauses, as if trying to figure out what the hell is going on. But, maybe he's going to show him the scars that he had gotten at the shooting? Yeah, he thinks, that's probably it.

All thoughts disappear, though, when he gets to see Steve shirtless. It's... Wow. Wow. Tony has always known that the serum had made Steve into, quite literally, the definition of perfection, and--

And Steve has no scars. Which, knowing what the serum did, it doesn't surprise him that he doesn't have any markings from the fights that took place back home. But, there should be at least one scar after the shooting. Steve had been shot only a few days ago. Tony's own scars from the bombing are proof that, even if they heal you quickly around here, it doesn't mean that the scars would go away completely, and...Steve's torso is perfect. Then he remembers how quickly he had gone back to work, when he and Cisco had taken days to completely be back to normal, and that's when everything fits together. Steve has the serum back. He has the serum back.

He doesn't interrupt to ask, though; instead, he just keeps listening to what he's saying. Until he says that his scars make him look stronger than Steve ever will, and Tony immediately shakes his head slightly. Because, really, that's not true at all. At least not to Tony. But Steve continues, and he says that somehow he blows him away, and Tony doesn't quite know how to react. How could it be possible that he blows him away?

Steve doesn't look like he's lying - if anything, he has that look on his face that tells him he's being painfully honest, and Tony is rendered speechless. For a moment, anyway. Without a word, he sets down the towel with the frozen tomatoes, and stands so he can break the distance between them. It's not far, anyway, so even if he feels the painful tug on his side, he doesn't show any discomfort. If anything, he just loops an arm around his waist to pull him in for a kiss. It doesn't last very long, but when he pulls back it's only so he can look up at him.

"For the record, that's not how I see you," he says quietly, this time not breaking eye contact. "I see you, and..."

I'm surprised you're with me. I don't know how this happened, I figured--

"...I'm very lucky, to have you."

One day, far far off in the future, when he has the clarity of hindsight, Steve will realize that luck had nothing to do with how they fell for each other. He’ll know that despite all their differences, it wasn’t chance but rather fate that had brought him and Tony together. A lot of things could have gone wrong, might still go wrong, but one day, he’ll be able to see what a rare thing it is to find another human being who doesn’t question sacrifice. A who person who also doesn’t think of himself, not because of an inherent selflessness, but because of a complete lack of self worth.

Right now however, all Steve can think about is how cold Tony’s arm feels against his bare waist, how the only thing between him and Tony right now is a thin cotton shirt, and how he doesn’t even remember when his lips got this close to Tony’s and he’s … he’s kissing Tony back. Ever since the serum, his body naturally runs hotter than a normal human being, but right now, Steve feels like he must pushing a fever. His face, his neck, everything feels hot, and his heart feels like it’s pounding against him. While it’s been a few days since Steve’s blushed in front of Tony, there’s no mistaking the deep scarlet spreading over his cheeks.

When Tony begins to speak again, Steve’s eyes open and he’s still flustered, but Steve stops breathing entirely when he hears ‘…I’m very lucky, to have you.’ His eyes search Tony’s like he’s waiting for him take it back, and it’s only when he doesn’t that Steve starts to breathe again, and a small, unbelieving smile curls along his lips.

“Tony I…” I never thought you’d ever really think that, after everything. “I feel lucky too. That you gave me another shot. That you’re still here.”

Isn’t it odd how, just a moment ago, he was completely at ease with his body, and now, with just the loop of an arm, Tony’s changed everything? Because as nervous as he might seem, it’s not because Steve can’t handle laying out their feelings, he’s just not prepared to go through that kind of emotional journey completely topless.

“Tony I should- put my shirt back on,” he says, eyes looking down into Tony’s like he’s asking for permission. In a way, he is, because Tony’s still holding him, and for a reason he can’t understand right now, Steve can’t bring himself to pull away. His hands, which had found their way to gently holding Tony’s biceps during the kiss, don’t so much as move an inch.

The warmth that Steve is more or less radiating is impossible to miss, especially when he himself runs cold by default. It makes him want to stay there, and just pull himself closer against Steve, but he already knows that he's pushing boundaries right now. Or, rather, it hadn't fully hit him that he's putting Steve in a possibly uncomfortable position by getting so close and wrapping his arm around him, until he saw the coloring on his face.

Still, since he's not pushing him away, Tony doesn't let go. Especially when he kisses him back, and Tony can only stare at him when he smiles. He won't say it, but there are days that he himself is surprised that he had given him another shot, that they're really here, but ever since they clarified their intentions with each other... There hasn't been a single moment that he has regretted this. Any of this. And, who knows. Maybe it's wrong, maybe he should question things more. After all, a lot of things had happened back home between them, but he would be lying if he were to say that his feelings for Steve had only begun here. He would also be lying if he were to say that this place hadn't accelerated things in a manner that he never would have expected, because the life-and-death situations just push it to the forefront of his mind that they cannot waste any chances. That they cannot waste any time.

Still, he's wiling to pull back if Steve doesn't feel comfortable about being this close. It's hard to remember sometimes that they had agreed to take things slow, because Tony wants nothing more than to take off his own shirt now as well and maybe find their way to Steve's room, but...

"Yeah, sure." He waits for Steve to let him go, because he himself doesn't want to move. Ultimately he moves his arm, but only to settle his hand against his hip, his fingers brushing gently across the small of his back in the process. He'll step back, his eyes almost say, when Steve lets go. Until then, Tony's just fighting the temptation to kiss him all over again.

Maybe that’s just it. Being stuck in this place has escalated things at a pace that would have never happened back home, because every day actually could be their last. Because hell, Tony’s already survived a bombing. Steve survived an assassination. Just thirty minutes ago, they were fighting two dozen men who wanted them dead.

But this time, what happened earlier in the Commissary felt manageable, because compared to the disasters that had come before, a small riot was something Steve and Tony would have been overqualified to handle back home. And yet, Tony was still injured. Even with the serum, Steve hadn’t been able to protect him.

Maybe only two or three seconds really pass in silence as they both stand there, holding each other, eyes locked, as a voice in Steve’s head reminds him of what he should be doing. He should step back. He should put his shirt on. He should make the dinner he’d planned and gotten ingredients for three night ago. He should settle Tony down with his ice pack, to make sure he doesn’t strain his broken rib any more than he already has. He should, he should, he should- But he doesn’t.

Maybe Tony saw it coming all along, Steve thinks as he leans in, his arms wrapping around Tony nearly instantly. This kiss … this kiss is hungry and filled to the brim with a purpose that Steve couldn’t have predicted.

It’s as if for the first time, he really understands that either of them could be gone tomorrow, and Steve doesn’t want to get there with the regret of having done not what they both wanted, but what they thought they ought to do.

Edited 2017-02-18 06:10 (UTC)

It's hard to tell what Tony's expecting. There's a moment where he firmly believes that Steve will let go, that he will need to step back, and the moment will be over. And, really, he would have been okay with that. He would have respected Steve's boundaries, even if right now it probably doesn't seem that way considering his proximity to Steve and the fact that he had his arm around him just moments ago.

But then Steve does something that Tony really isn't expecting, although he has been wanting it. He leans in, Steve's own arms wrapping around him, and Tony's hand moves again so he could move it back to where it was. Maybe it's that warmth that Steve is emitting, maybe it's the feel of his bare skin under his fingertips, maybe it's just how he's kissing him - whatever the reason is, he kisses him back just as hungrily. He pulls Steve closer to him as he does so, his fingers trailing along the muscles of Steve's back as if trying to memorize them. As if trying to stay here forever, as if trying to just enjoy the sensation of it all.

This time, even if there's that annoying little voice in the back of his head, he doesn't pull back. He doesn't wonder if he should stop. He gives in to this overwhelming feeling of needing Steve closer, of not letting him go, and he uses his free hand to settle it against Steve's hip. He can feel the spot where the jumpsuit begins again, and as tempting as it is to push it down a little further, he just moves his fingers so that his hold can be partly on Steve, and partly on the jumpsuit itself.

Before breaking the kiss, Tony catches Steve's bottom lip with his teeth for a brief moment - not enough to hurt, but more as a gentle tease. Even when he stops kissing him, though, it's clear that it's only because he needs to catch his breath and not because he wants to stop.

If anything, since he's still close enough to Steve, he moves in to kiss his collarbone. Before doing so, he asks quietly, his lips almost brushing against his bare skin. "Is this okay?"

It shouldn’t be surprising to Steve that kissing Tony like this feels so amazing. He’d already established that three nights ago, when he could only barely bring himself to leave Tony’s room before curfew. But now, not having the jumpsuits between them makes this feel even more intimate, because Steve’s hand can actually feel the shape of Tony’s body just beneath fabric — and that sense wanting to be closer to Tony propels him to keep moving, to keep touching. So his hand slides down Tony’s side — the one that has no broken ribs — until it reaches his waist. The bottom of Steve’s shirt isn’t tight on Tony, like it would’ve been on him. Instead, it flows loosely enough that Steve’s hand slides easily onto Tony’s skin, and just that sensation alone is enough to make Steve feel daring. It’s silly, he knows, but he can’t help it. He’s never done anything remotely even close to this before.

God, beneath the heat of his palm, Tony’s skin feels like the cool side of the pillow, and Steve moves his hand around him a little further.

That’s when he feels Tony pulling back ever-so-slightly, and take his lip with him. It sends a light shiver down Steve’s back and he’s grateful that they just take a moment to breathe together, because Steve’s starting to realize both how out of his depth he’ll soon be, and that with moves like that, if Tony wanted, he could probably make him feel things he never thought were possible.

Sure enough, when Tony’s lips linger just over his collarbone, Steve feels the heat of his breath as he asks that question and Steve’s inhale wavers for a moment — before he swallows and breathes out a quiet “yes.”

Feeling Steve's hand against his skin doesn't make Tony pull back how he would have probably done not long ago, because if Steve were to touch the front of his torso, he would probably find that scar along his side that runs down to his hip. Somehow, after showing his scars to Steve, and knowing that he's not disgusted by them, Tony feels comfortable enough to let Steve's hand roam along his skin.

And, god, it feels so damn good to feel his touch. That warmth that his skin leaves behind wherever he touches him, Tony finds himself craving it more and more, and he kisses him even deeper then because he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop.

Of course, when he ultimately needs to and Steve lets him tease him by biting his lip, a grin grows on his lips. He's loving this - he's loving having Steve here, this close, to help him feel all these new things that he hadn't experienced before, and he gently brushes his fingertips along his back again.

When Steve gives him permission, he doesn't waste any time to press a kiss against his skin. Being this close, it's easy to leave a trail of kisses along his collarbone, and when he reaches his neck, he kisses the spot where his pulse can be found. It's impossible to miss, yet again, how wonderful Steve smells, but right now that's not really his focus. His focus is how his skin feels against his lips, how Steve feels this close to him, and he lets out a quiet hum under his breath as he whispers, "You're so beautiful."

It’s unfair how much his body is reacting to every little thing that Tony does. Everything feels so good and overpowering and out of his control, and Steve doesn’t know anymore if that’s good or bad — only that he wants Tony to stay this close to him for as long as possible.

The kisses along his collarbone make Steve tilt his head back, and because Tony’s lips are just above his chest, he’ll be able to notice the bigger breathes Steve’s starting to take. But it’s not until he feels Tony’s lips move up his neck that Steve’s hand holds onto him a little bit tighter — nowhere near enough to feel like real pressure, but it makes Steve feel a little safer, so he does it. When Tony kisses his pulse, Steve wonders if he can tell how quick his heart is beating because of him — at least, he does wonder that for a second, before the feeling of Tony’s lips on such a sensitive spot makes Steve take a subconscious half-step back. It’s his body’s way of telling him that if he keeps this up, he’s going to need a little more support, otherwise he may very well fall to his knees.

And then Tony says he’s beautiful and it’s Steve’s turn to be speechless as he considers denying it. He doesn’t think so, despite how often people tell him differently, because when he looks in the mirror, he still sees the same kid from Brooklyn that no one wanted a second look at. But this is Tony … and even if Steve doesn’t agree, he’s still aware of the tug on his heart when he hears those words. Unlike it coming from almost anyone else, Steve cares that Tony thinks he’s beautiful.

He feels his breath catch again and this time, Steve feels like he needs to warn Tony somehow. That this … that he … that nothing is going to be as amazing as Steve would want it to be for him, because he has no idea what to do.

“Tony …” he starts, his voice just above a whisper. There’s a gentleness in there, but also a tiny sense of guilt. “I know you know already, but I’ve … really never done this before.” He still remembers telling Tony that he’d never kissed someone twice before, so surely Tony knows that he’s never … done anything else either. “I hope- I just want everything to be so perfect for you, but I don’t … I don’t know how to …”

The way that Steve tilts his head back, and feeling the way that he's breathing, Tony holds him a little tighter as he kisses him. Almost as if to reassure him that it's okay. That he's okay, that they're okay. They're together. The way that Steve holds him back tighter as well feels wonderful, and he finds himself lingering little by little as he moves along his skin.

When he takes that half-step back, Tony is ready to let go, because it's important to him that Steve knows that he's not going to make him do anything he doesn't want to do. But Steve doesn't pull back completely, he's still here, with him, so he takes that as a sign that he doesn't want him to break apart completely.

That is why, when Steve begins talking, Tony pulls back just enough to look at him, a warm look on his face. There's a fondness in his eyes that's...bordering something other than fondness, it's bordering another emotion that Tony is terrified of feeling, but tonight he doesn't focus on that. His focus remains on Steve, and as much as he's tempted to kiss him to assure him that it's okay, he doesn't. He doesn't want to push him, so he moves the hand that is on Steve's hip so he can brush his thumb against his cheek before he rests his hand against his chest.

"It's okay," he assures him, his voice quiet. "I know you haven't, but it's okay. If you're ready - or when you're ready," he adds reassuringly, so he knows that he isn't expecting anything tonight, "it'll be perfect for me, anyway. Because it's you, and you're special to me." Pulling him in a little closer, he presses a kiss against his lips. This time it isn't hungry, or desperate to bring him closer. It's more as a reassurance, to let him know that he's not going anywhere. "I don't mind showing you, sweetheart. But I want it to be special for you, too, so we can wait until whenever you're ready. I'm not going anywhere."

Steve’s always thought that Tony’s eyes were gorgeous. They’re so expressive, no matter what Tony is trying to express, and while sometimes that means a certain glare is enough to slice you open from across the room, other times … Other times those eyes look so soft, and Steve can’t help but wonder if deep down, Tony might be one of the most caring and attentive people he’s ever met. Maybe that’s why it always bothered him so much earlier, when Tony didn’t want to look at him — because those big brown eyes are his best clues into how Tony’s feeling.

The warmth in those eyes right now though, is so reassuring that Steve can feel himself smiling in response, and the edges of his anxiety start to melt.

When he’s ready, Tony says, and Steve nods, and then when he gets pulled in, Steve anticipates the kiss with one of his own and the slow and tempered natured of this one is exactly what he needs. Because despite Tony having done absolutely nothing to make him think this while they’ve been together, some part of Steve is always worried about the playboy in Tony’s famous four-word moniker. He’s sure that out of everyone Tony’s ever been with, no one’s ever made him go this slow, and they’ve certainly never been, well, this level of inexperienced. One day, he’s nearly certain that being with him will get too boring for Tony, and that compared this modern world of one-night stands and casual hookups, Tony would naturally drift to wanting something else. Someone else.

But almost like he could read his thoughts, Tony says those four words: ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ And suddenly, Steve is wondering all over again how it could be that Tony Starks wants him, instead of anyone else.

God, he really is falling.

But now that things aren’t so wrapped up in the moment, and Tony’s mentioned that he wants it to be special for Steve too … yeah, he thinks, now that his brain seems to be working again. If Tony had pushed him onto the couch, or into the bed, ultimately, Steve doesn’t think he would’ve been able to say no. But instead, Tony’s being so sweet and considerate and it reminds Steve that yes, whenever they do this, it should be special and meaningful and he wants to bring Tony flowers beforehand.

That’s what he wants, someday. But not on their first date. Even if his body might be telling him something else entirely.

He kisses Tony again, as both his hands come up to cradle Tony’s jawline. It’s slow — slow and easy and pure. When Steve pulls back, it’s a natural break, and there’s a warmth in his eyes — filled with it’s own kind of fondness and appreciation.

“I like that,” he says, as a smile emerges from his lips. “You calling me sweetheart.” A beat, as he just looks at Tony for a moment. “And I appreciate it — you telling me that you’re willing to wait.” That you won’t leave. He meant to say that last part out loud, but words are powerful, and sometimes, there are things that even Steve doesn’t have the courage to say.

And maybe they hold each other this way for a little longer, linger in the moment a little more, before eventually, Steve asks if Tony’s hungry (because technically, this is still supposed to be a dinner date), and a little bit after that, he finally let go and reaches for his shirt so he can pull it over his head and down over his chest. He’ll try to settle Tony on the couch again before kissing him one last time before going to the kitchen to cook.

“You know, I’m gonna need those tomatoes back soon. But I’ll trade you something better.”

The smile on Steve's face is enough to make Tony's own smile grow, and he affectionately runs his hand gently along his lower back again. Not necessarily as a turn on anymore, but more to just silently confirm that he's telling him the truth. Not that he wouldn't have loved to be on the couch right now, or the bed undressing each other, but he's not going to make Steve uncomfortable by saying that or letting it sour his mood.

The way that Steve cradles his jawline makes Tony melt a little against him as he kisses him back, though, and he has to remind himself to not push this. That Steve maybe doesn't want to push this farther, and he gets it, but holy shit it's so easy right now for Tony to get lost in that kiss all over again. It's probably a good thing his hand isn't by his waistline anymore, because Steve's jumpsuit wouldn't be safe right about now.

It's in that happy daze that he hears as Steve says that he likes it when he calls him sweetheart, and Tony chuckles softly under his breath. The motion makes the pain flare again - or, rather, more than it has been already considering the irregular breathing patterns while kissing - and Tony reminds himself that it's probably better this isn't going further tonight because of that, too.

And dinner, right. Tony's eating patterns are so off around here that he's not naturally hungry right now, although he'll be fine to eat. It was just way too easy to forget about eating again, this time because he has been so focused on Steve to think of anything else.

"Oh, yeah? What are you going to trade me?" A beat. "I'd offer to help you cook, but I'd probably just ruin it."

Steve’s starting to feeling the pattern too: It is entirely too easy to get lost in each other. And yet, he has no regrets. Plus, if there’s one thing that Tony’s shown him already, it’s that there’s a lot of things he never knew he wanted, like the cool of Tony’s hand on his back, the heat of Tony’s breath on his chest, and the tug of Tony’s teeth on his lips — all scenes that Steve will be replaying for himself in the next few days, he’s sure.

But dinner. He should really try and focus. On dinner.

“You’ll see,” he says, once he’s up. But in the two steps he takes to the kitchen, Steve changes his mind and heads to the bedroom for a moment, and returns a few seconds later with a clean sock. “You wouldn’t ruin it,” he says, grinning, despite the fact that he remembers how JARVIS had banned Tony from the tower kitchen, “but you should take it easy. Plus, this is supposed to be a date. Just let me impress you, okay?”

First things first though. He does need those tomatoes back, but the rice also needed time to get cold before they’d make a good stand-in ice pack. When Steve’s pulls open the freezer and runs his fingers on the box, it’s cold to the touch, which is a good sign. Pulling it out, he closes the freezer door before pouring a little bit of rice onto his hand. It’s freezing. Perfect.

The real ice pack he wants to make Tony is simple. Without plastic bags, he couldn’t freeze detergent or water, and he doesn’t have frozen bags of peas, because vegetables still aren’t plenty enough to have extra. What most people don’t know however, is that uncooked grains hold low temperatures really well — and all Steve had to do is wait for it get cold. So now, all he needs to do is pour the rice into the sock until it feels like a nice little bean bag with a cotton cover. Then, on his way back to Tony, Steve ties a knot at the end of the sock to prevent any rice from leaking, and offers it out in one hand while holding his other palm open for the tomatoes.

“Trade?”

The great thing about using rice inside something like a sock, is that it’s adaptable, so Tony can hold it however he wants against his side, and it’ll curve around his body. Plus, the thicker cotton of the sock prevents it from ever being too cold, and it feels way better on skin, so Tony could put it directly on the bruise if he wants.

But really, Steve would like those tomatoes back.

No, Tony doesn't have any regrets about getting lost in Steve, either. If anything, he just wants to stay there with him longer, and when Steve moves away it takes all he has to not just follow after him. It feels weird, just...sitting there while Steve is up and about, maybe since this is the first time he's doing something like this at his place, but then Steve is all adorable and telling him to let him impress him, and Tony can't help but grin. "Alright, I'll be good."

As Steve walks off to make the ice pack, Tony does his best to ease back onto the couch to try and find a comfortable spot. Now that he's not being distracted by Steve's presence, though, it's definitely a lot harder than he could have anticipated to stay still. His thoughts venturing away into work and other things help with that, though, and it becomes a new source of distraction. It isn't until the sound of Steve's footsteps draw him back out, and he smiles as he hands him the tomatoes before taking the makeshift icepack.

"Rice?" The question is asked as he 'weighs' it in his hand, then lifts his shirt up to press it against the ugliest part of the bruise. He doesn't seem surprised, mainly because this isn't the first time that Tony has dealt with improvised icepacks, but it doesn't change the way that he smiles up at Steve.

"Thank you. So, do I get to find out what you're making, or is it a surprise?"

“Yeah,” he affirms, taking the tomatoes back. But then Tony asks him what he’s making, and Steve has no problem telling him, but he wonders …it’s not like he has a TV or something else Tony can do to focus on while the cooking happens. And if tonight had gone to plan, Steve would’ve prepared everything before Tony arrived.

“Why don’t you … come sit on the kitchen counter and see for yourself. We can keep each other company, and … you can tell me if you like how things taste.” That is, if Tony doesn’t mind not sitting on something hard, and not having something to lean on.

Steve passes the tomatoes from his right hand to his left, and offers his hand to help Tony up.

“I can also bring over a chair from the table. You’d just have to sit a little further away from me.”

There's a brief moment where there's a look of almost nostalgia when Steve confirms that he's using rice for the icepack, but it's gone in a blink. He remembers another man once making icepacks like that, back in another lifetime, in another world altogether. He remembers how impossible it was to find water, let alone anything that could be used to ice bruises, in that carved out corner of the cave where they were kept in Afghanistan. He remembers Yinsen using whatever he could find and, well, grains of rice had been easy to access since that was one of the things that their captors provided to them in their weekly rations. With the cave being constantly cold, and the vents throughout the 'room' that always made it worse, it was easy to keep it cold, and that sensation of the sock adjusting to his body is more familiar than he'll ever be ready to admit.

Thankfully Steve keeps talking before Tony can venture too far back into his thoughts, and he really doesn't hesitate to nod in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Maybe the counter wouldn't be the most comfortable right now, from the physical perspective, but he really doesn't mind it. He can't imagine just sitting in the living room waiting, and he's not very fond of the idea of sitting away from Steve, so once he's up he kisses his cheek. "Thanks, but the counter is fine." He smirks as they walk towards the kitchen together. "I may not be good at cooking, but I'm a great taste assessor."

“Well in that case, I think we’ll make a pretty good team.”

Steve grabs a chair on their way over to the kitchen anyways — all he needs is one hand to lift it — so he can set it down in the kitchen. It’s in case Tony changes his mind, or in case he wants to use it like a one-step ladder to get himself a seat up on the countertop. Either way, Steve will hold out his hand again, if Tony wants something to grip when he goes up.

Once Tony’s stable and settled, Steve gets to work, fishing out a large pot and a saucepan from a cabinet. He fills the pot with cold water and sets it on the stove to boil, and then he goes to his freezer again. This time, he pulls out a plastic container — it’s the same kind of container that were in the box Tony had grabbed from his apartment when they had lunch in the hospital, but clearly washed and re-used.

“I made this after I got back three nights ago, when I couldn’t stop thinking …“ Steve looks up at Tony, smiling a little, like he’s just a little embarrassed of what he’s about to say. But it’s temporary, because he has other things to focus on to, like using his fingers to nudge the lid off the base. “…well, about you, and tonight.”

With his strength back, Steve has been more careful than usual lately, mostly because he doesn’t want the Computer to find out, and him forgetting to hold back usually meant things got crushed too easily. But the lid comes off before he accidentally destroys it, and Steve tilts the container so Tony can see what’s inside.

It’s homemade pasta. Hand rolled and cut, and then rolled back up and floured so the strips won’t stick to each other in the freezer.

“I still had some flour leftover from when I’d requested some awhile back, and while I can’t cook that many things, I can still make pasta. Honestly though, I’m glad I did it that night. I’ve barely been back here for the past three days.”

Even for GREEN, with his mix of real and fake food as a regular diet, real pasta isn’t something that’s distributed, and Steve is thankful that when he was younger, flour was cheap enough that making things from scratch was a regular occurrence, and he’d needed to help out as much as he could when his mother pulled extra shifts in order to pay the bills. So he learned to make a few staples here and there.

The grin on Tony's face at Steve's words is unmistakable. Yeah, he thinks, they really do make a pretty damn good team, and tonight has been a great reminder of that.

Already knowing that lifting himself up onto the counter would be a good idea right now - especially because he has a feeling that Steve would probably suggest he should just go rest on the couch instead, if he were to see how much the pull up motion would hurt - Tony uses the chair as a one-step ladder without even really thinking twice about it. Pressing the rice against his side again, he just watches Steve move along the kitchen, and he finds himself grinning once again when Steve admits that he had started preparing their dinner since that night, three nights ago.

"It's good to know I'm not the only one that was left thinking about you after you left." Despite how smug he may look as he speaks, his voice is soft. Honest. And it really is the truth; seeing Steve just once a day for a few minutes at a time isn't exactly easy. Which he understands why it can't be more often, but still. Considering this stage in their relationship, where they're learning more about each other and everything is so new, it's hard to just watch him walk away every night after only a brief time together. Which is why, despite what happened earlier, it's nice to be here with him. Just...sharing this. Together.

His eyes shift down to the container as Steve tilts it in his direction, and he all but pauses when he sees what's inside. "You...made pasta?"

His voice sounds surprised, as if it's due to the fact that Steve made real pasta in this place, but deep down there's also another meaning to it. One that he won't admit to Steve, at least not any time soon, because he doesn't really talk about his mother, and he doesn't want to admit that homemade pasta is something so close to his heart thanks to her that his heart feels like it gets squished for a moment. And not only that, but considering the secret that nearly tore him and Steve apart... Yeah, no. He's not going there.

Instead, he just huffs out a quiet chuckle under his breath. "That's pretty impressive. I had no idea you were such a good chef."

Maybe it’s how soft Tony’s voice is, but it makes Steve pause what he’s doing and look over. His kitchen isn’t big, and at most moments, he and Tony are within arm’s reach of each other, so right now, Steve just grins and leans over to kiss him. Given Tony’s position on the counter, Steve’s finds himself half a head shorter in comparison, so he tilts his chin up to make up the difference.

He wants to spend more time together too. He feels an aching in his heart every time he leaves Tony’s room at night, like he wishes he could’ve stayed longer, but until someone tells him otherwise, Steve doesn’t actually know the difference between what’s appropriate and what isn’t. He grew up at a time in which, if Howard was still around, Steve might’ve actually asked his permission to take Tony out for the first time. A time in which, no matter how much you liked a girl, even Bucky wouldn’t have stayed over night. Heck, they didn’t even have some place overnight to stay. They didn’t even have cars; couldn’t afford them.

Even if they didn’t live in this crazy dystopian underground, if everything was normal and the world didn’t need saving, Steve couldn’t even fathom trying to spending all day together — someone else needs to bring it up, to tell him that it’s not only possible but actually quite normal these days. Because despite how open the 21st century was, the Hollywood depiction of actual romance hasn’t actually changed that much. So Steve’s still under the impression that he likes Tony, unless they’re also working together, the time they spend with each other should be dates, or something similar with a set beginning and a set end. That at the end of the night, it’s his job to get Tony home safe, and not to spend it in his arms.

“I’ll let you reserve that compliment for after you taste the food,” he answers, his lips curling into a lop-sided smile in response.

Thanks to Tony body, the tomatoes are well on their way to defrosting. They’re certainly soft enough to cut, which Steve does, horizontally, after he gets out a knife and cutting board. Then, he grates them down into much smaller pieces and throws them into the saucepan. The rest is just a matter of managing the two items on the stove. When to salt the water and put in the pasta, compared with when the sauce would be ready. The latter takes a little more work though, and Steve throws in what oils and spices he’s been able to get in this place, and later mixes in some tomato paste, which was readily in stock since it’s a canned good. The real victory here, is that Steve had even managed to get real garlic.

At some point, things start to actually smell amazing, and Steve dips a spoon into the saucepan to get a sample. It’s still a little steamy when he brings it over to Tony to try, and Steve has one hand cupped beneath the spoon just to make sure nothing drips onto the floor. “You’re up Tony. Taste?”

If they didn't live in this crazy dystopian underground, Tony wouldn't hesitate in suggesting spending more time together. Even with their crazy schedules and lives, he would suggest it, he would find ways to see him more often, he would do something to be able to spend more time with him. Here, though... Here, it's different. He knows the weight that Steve puts on himself in this place, the sense of responsibility that he feels. He knows how long he works for, how much he pushes himself, so...no. He won't say anything, even if that's all he wants every time that they have to say goodnight.

For now, though, he's enjoying this. Which is surprising even to him, to enjoy this level of domesticity that he's not particularly used to, and he's trying to just savor it for as long as it lasts.

Watching Steve move along the kitchen, he smiles faintly as he rests one hand on the counter to more or less prop himself up, and the other one to continue pressing the rice against his body. And, despite his crappy eating schedule, he feels his appetite growing as he cooks. It really does smell amazing, which is why, when Steve offers him a taste, he grins. "Yep, I'm ready for my part."

And, sure enough, the sauce is as delicious as it smells. With a hum of approval, he nods. "That is amazing. So do I get to call you a good chef now?"

Sometimes, the two of them are too noble for their own good.

But this, actually cooking again, and with Tony in the kitchen with him, Steve could never have imagined that he'd get to experience something like this. It feels like a nostalgic sort of sweet and he rarely gets the chance to remember that feeling.

There's a moment when, as he stands between Tony's dangling legs, watching him contemplating the sauce, Steve wonders what life would be like if they could do this all the time — but he pushes that thought aside before he can want it too much. He knows that won't be possible and that he can't resign himself to a life filled with only personal happiness. Tony probably can't either.

But all of that doesn't make this moment any less sweet.

"As long as you keep expectations low," he says, lowering the empty spoon as he grins. "Three more dates and you'll have tasted everything I know how to cook."

With the sauce simmering and the pasta in the pot, Steve has a little time, so he lingers here for awhile, letting his fondness for Tony's presence temporarily soothe some of the tension he's been carrying for days. At some point, he lets out a breath, and as much as Steve wants to lean his forehead down against Tony's shoulder, he doesn't. Not tonight. Not when Tony just got a broken rib. Instead, he just gives him an affectionate grin before leaning in to kiss him again.

Having Steve there, Tony is tempted to just pull him in. He wants to just kiss him, to forget all over again about dinner even if it does smell delicious, but...he's good. He actually behaves...

...until Steve isn't moving, and Tony can't stop the soft smile growing on his face. It's probably a good thing that Steve takes the initiative to kiss him, only because otherwise Tony would be the one pulling him in. As it is, he lets the rice drop so he can loop his arm around his neck, just wanting this to linger. God, he just wants this night to never end.

As it is, when the kiss ends, Tony just leans his forehead against Steve's. Just breathing him in. Just absorbing this moment - the warmth of his body through his shirt, the sound of the pasta simmering, the sensation of having him this close... Tony wants to get lost in this moment for as long as he can, because he doesn't want to let go.

He knows he can't, though. For practicality reasons right now, anyway, considering he doesn't want to ruin the dinner that Steve is planning, and he moves the arm around his neck so he can rest his hand gently along the side of his neck before pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. "I'm looking forward to that," he finally says, answering his comment about tasting everything he knows by the third date.

daycycle 124

[Jan 29 - Feb 4]

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