#Sincerely Yours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aurumacadicus · 1 year

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Sincerely, Yours (Chapter 11)

Over six thousand words so it’s under the cut this time.

Steve knocked on the door the next morning. “Tony?” he asked through the door. “You mentioned me waking you up to help with breakfast. Did you still want to? I can let you sleep for another hour if you want.”

Tony found himself sitting up before he even thought about it. “Yes, I want to help with breakfast.” He lifted his hands to rub at his eyes, jaw cracking on a yawn. “I’m awake. I’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” Steve replied. “I brought a pitcher for the wash basin so you can wash up. I’ll leave it here on the floor, okay?”

“Thank you!” Tony called out, biting back another yawn, and tossed the blankets aside so he could get up. The mattress was just as comfortable as it had been the first night, and he knew if he didn’t get up immediately, he’d sink back into it and fall right back to sleep. He paused just long enough to put on the robe he’d found packed in the bottom of his carpet bag, one that he remembered his father wearing and Jarvis hadn’t had the heart to throw out. The pattern was sort of busy, but it offered more warmth than the lacy one his mother had left after their passing, and he was sort of glad he didn’t have to ask Steve for one.

The pitcher was right outside the door as Steve had promised, and he scooped it up and brought it back inside, wondering what he should wear. He’d realized, as he was finally unpacking his clothes, that he didn’t really have… anything comparable to Steve’s work clothes. Sure, they weren’t considered his finer clothes back in New York, but they were much nicer than Steve’s, all clean whites and hand stitching. He and Steve were going on a ride today. He wasn’t entirely certain what he should wear. Maybe he could ask Steve to come up and help him choose what he thought was best.

Tony paused, pitcher tipped halfway toward the basin, then turned, hand drifting up to his mouth as he considered the logistics of it. He’d have to hide his undergarments. But he didn’t want Steve to think he didn’t wear any, either. Would Steve assume that? He’d seemed pretty appalled that people would send him letters about them when he’d mentioned terrible correspondence, but this was different—this was Tony’s wardrobe that he’d be allowing him to look into, and he wouldn’t lie and say he wouldn’t be thinking about it a little if the roles were reversed.

Maybe he’d just put a few outfits on the bed for Steve to choose from, he figured.

.-.

Steve wasn’t cooking when he finally got downstairs, but he was turning from throwing wood into his stove. He froze when he saw Tony. Tony couldn’t help but freeze as well, remembering with sudden clarity that the last time he’d seen Steve, he’d been nearly naked and quite damp. And he’d certainly looked quite nice, nearly naked and quite damp, with his wide shoulders and narrow waist and—

“Ouch!” Steve exclaimed, yanking his hand off the stove door. He jerked his hand up to begin blowing on it, as if that would help.

Tony finally remembered how to behave like a normal human and rushed over to him. “That won’t help. Come here,” he said, grabbing Steve’s arm and attempting to drag him over to the sink. He knew from experience, after all; Jarvis had had to do the same thing when he'd first started learning how to cook. He tugged again when Steve didn’t move, which thankfully got him to finally budge, and he allowed Tony to tow him over to the sink and shove his hand under the spigot. He let Steve’s hand go only once he was sure he’d hold it in place, then turned to begin pulling at the pump.

Steve watched the water begin to rush over his hand, mouth dropping open a little in shock. Then his cheeks flooded pink. “I’m not normally an idiot when I burn myself. I just… uh… had a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sure,” Tony said agreeably, swatting his free hand away when he reached to help. “What were you thinking about? Anything I can help with?”

Steve coughed, then sort of wheezed, flush splotching a darker shade of red. “It was nothing. Lunch,” he added belatedly, as if it didn’t sound like the complete lie that it was.

Tony stopped pumping water to blink up at him, lips pursing into a frown as he decided whether or not he wanted to call Steve on it. He hadn’t known Steve in person for very long, but in his letters, he’d come across as a very honest (if perhaps too straightforward) person. On the other hand, if he was willing to lie about it, maybe he shouldn’t push. They were only on their third day together, after all. People deserved privacy even from their spouses, he remembered Ana telling him once.

“I’ve only seen you in clothes,” Steve finally said, as if the silence hanging over them had been unbearable.

Tony’s mouth dropped open, and he couldn’t help another slow blink as he tried to work out what Steve meant. “…I’m wearing clothes,” he finally answered, unable to come up with anything else.

Steve waved his unburned hand at him, as if that was an explanation. Tony looked down at himself. He was still wearing his pajamas, but that was only because he didn’t want to have to bother changing a second time after breakfast, and they were covered by the robe. He looked at Steve. His clothes looked like pajamas as well. He couldn’t imagine Steve riding horses in matching pinstripes. He squinted up at Steve skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Steve looked like he was in more physical pain because of their conversation than he had when he’d burned himself. He waved his hand at him again. “It’s… I’ve never seen…” He gulped in a breath of air, then let it back out in a sigh, lifting his hand to cover his red face. “It’s lacy.”

“Lacy,” Tony repeated, looking back down at himself. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the top hem of his nightshirt was visible where the robe closed. It wasn’t the finest lace he’d ever worn in his life (and the negligee Jan had sent for him was even lacier, he remembered shyly). Still, if Steve had only lived with his mother and then another alpha, maybe the peek of lace would have been pretty surprising. He looked back up at Steve, hesitantly asking, “Do you… like it?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered immediately, voice strangled. He groaned and lifted his other hand to cover his face as well. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be normal about this.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said, as if he had not gone to bed and stared up at the ceiling trying to reconcile Steve’s broad shoulders and narrow waist, while also desperately trying not to remember the way that drop of water had slid down his muscular back toward his low-slung towel. He lifted his hands to pull the edges of his robe closer together. “Should I go change?”

“No,” Steve barked, hands dropping, and he somehow looked even more mortified than before. “I want you to be comfortable. This is your home now. I’m—This is so embarrassing, Tony, I feel like such a—” He reached out to grab Tony’s hands to keep him from closing his robe. “I’m sorry.”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then finally answered, “I mean, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? We’re married. You shouldn’t be ashamed of seeing my—uh. Lacy things.” He pulled at the hems of his robe again, peering down at the simple shift he was wearing. The lace was only along the hems. He looked back up at Steve. “But maybe you shouldn’t be doing anything important until you get used to it.”

“You said that so nicely,” Steve said faintly. “But I still sorta want the ground to open up and swallow me.”

“Well, don’t,” Tony replied, shrugging, and took a step back. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to… do whatever you’re doing. But…” He felt heat finally rising on his cheeks, and he couldn’t help but lift a hand to scratch at his neck in embarrassment. “It’s… nice. You’re… different from the alphas back home.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, brows furrowing together into a concerned frown. “…How different?”

Tony didn’t think that the alphas back home would stop at just staring. He could imagine leers, jokes that he’d have to smile through and brush off without trying to offend them. Maybe even a heavy hand landing on his hip or shoulder, fingers curling in possessive and cruel. Perhaps… something worse, though he was hesitant to contemplate it. ‘Just alphas being alphas,’ Obadiah would chortle if Tony complained. Or they’d blame him for not covering up properly, tell him he shouldn’t have had any lace visible if he didn’t want them to comment on it. They’d tell him he was asking for attention, and the only one to blame was himself.

It was why he’d been so charmed that Steve had been outraged on his behalf when he’d told him about the correspondence that he’d considered truly bad.

“My eggs come out rubbery,” Tony finally said. “Maybe you can teach me how to cook them better than Jarvis could.”

Steve’s jaw worked, almost like he was trying to bite back a gnashing of teeth. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, swallowing down his visible anger until his expression was just as kind and patient as it had been the day before. “I’ll show you how to do the first one, then let you try the others. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good,” Tony agreed, reaching out for his hand again. “How’s your hand?”

“I let go in time to avoid a bad burn, I think,” Steve said, allowing him to take it. His hand was pink, just bordering on red, but there were no blisters or puss. “The water helped.”

“I’m sure the blowing helped too,” Tony added, unable to help his lips curving into a cheeky smile.

Steve tipped his head back with a groan. “Oh my god. I swear I’m not stupid.”

Tony covered his mouth to smother a giggle, but Steve didn’t look angry when he failed.

.-.

Tony’s eggs had still come out sort of rubbery, but the last one was mostly edible. Steve had wolfed them down regardless, and Tony remembered Steve saying he’d eat most things, even if they tasted bad, in his letters. He hadn’t really understood what that meant until now. While he was worried about how he could expect to improve if Steve was willing to eat everything set in front of him, it also felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing that food wouldn’t go to waste even when it didn’t turn out right.

He'd watched Steve put together their lunch in a nice wicker basket as he ate at a more sedate pace, “Something my ma insisted on buying while we were in town. We only used it a couple times before she was too sick to go out.” The last of the fried chicken from the ice box, salad, pieces of sausage fried in dough, a jar of apricot preserves, the remains of the pound cake, and three large, beautiful tomatoes so red they were almost purple.

“I take it you’re a fan of tomatoes instead of pound cake,” Steve said, amusement coloring his tone.

It took Tony a moment to realize he was still staring at the basket. He jerked his eyes up to Steve’s face, heat rushing to his cheeks. “What? Yes. Or—well, I’m just not used to pound cake yet.”

“You can have a different favorite food from me,” Steve cut in before he could babble on. “How do you like them? Oil and salt? On toast? I can cook some up and put it in the basket real quick.”

“I’ll eat it like an apple,” Tony answered. He was very kind in not telling Steve that he was not fast enough in hiding his disgust. Jan and Sue had wrinkled their noses at him back home, too. “I wasn’t entirely sure what to wear riding, so I set out a few outfits. Will you come help me decide?”

Steve blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. “Oh, um, sure?”

“I don’t really have a lot of clothes, and I think Jarvis didn’t have time to think about what he was packing for me,” Tony added, before Steve had to ask. He didn’t want to embarrass him anymore today.

“Oh,” Steve said again, frowning. “Of course.” He rubbed his chin, considering. “The next time we’re in town, let’s make sure to buy you a couple more outfits. Ranch work is dirty, even if you’re just doing the housework. It’ll be good to have spares.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, trying not to sound too cheerful. It had been a long time since he’d gotten to buy new clothes. Mostly, Jan had just given him whatever she felt like, and while he’d appreciated it (he never would have been able to keep up with changing fashion trends otherwise), he hadn’t ever really gotten to pick his own clothes out. Even if he had to okay it with Steve, at least he’d get a choice.

Steve followed him up to the main bedroom after they washed up the breakfast dishes, and Tony found it charming that he hesitated outside the door before he finally straightened his shoulders and passed the threshold like a man going to war. He was just choosing what pants Tony would be wearing on the ride. Then Steve grimaced as he looked over his clothes, and he couldn’t help but worry that he’d chosen poorly out of his meager offerings.

“Wow, these are all… really nice,” Steve finally said, reaching out to take a pair of pants between his fingers to rub the fabric. He frowned speculatively. “It seems like such a waste, using any of these to ride. Are you sure you don’t have anything a little more… worn?”

Tony shrugged, a little embarrassed. “This is all I’ve got.” Steve sighed, but Tony felt his shoulders relaxing a little with it, because it sounded more like the sighs Jarvis and Ana would utter as they tried to balance the household budget in a way that would get them yelled at by Obadiah as little as possible rather than actual frustration with him. “It’s okay if they get worn. We’ll just replace them when we’re in town, right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed vaguely, reaching out to test the middle set of clothes between his fingers as well. “I guess—these brown pants are alright, but your shirts are kinda… wispy? The sun’ll burn right through it… I’ll bring you one of mine,” he finally decided with a nod. “I’ve got plenty, and you need protection from the sun.” He turned. “Do you have a hat?”

“Yes,” Tony began instinctively, then stopped, hand coming up to his mouth as he looked at the pants Steve had chosen. “No. I think a hatbox would have been too much to carry. It was a church hat, anyway, not a sunhat.”

“I’ll grab you a hat, too,” Steve said, reaching out to clasp his shoulder as he turned to leave. “And who knows, maybe we’ll get you a replacement church hat in town, too. I’ll leave them on the doorknob, okay?”

Tony nodded, realized Steve’s back was to him, and added, “Yes. Thank you, Steve.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said, waving over his shoulder, and shut the door behind himself as he left.

Tony stared at the door for a long moment, hand coming up to touch where Steve had clasped his shoulder. Steve was handsy, but in a genuine way, not smarmy or anything. It sort of reminded him of the way he and his friends would touch—easy, casual, nothing behind it but a bid for connection. He supposed it made sense, if Steve had been as lonely and isolated as Tony had.

Tony hung up his robe and turned to step into the pants Steve had suggested. He figured Steve had chosen them because they were a little thicker than the others, would offer more protection from the saddle. He held one of his shirts up, frowning. He supposed the fabric was a little too thin for hours in the sun. It was very kind of Steve to offer up one of his own and a hat.

Tony squeaked, covering his mouth as the gravity of the situation hit him. Steve was bringing him a shirt and hat to wear on their ride and picnic. He was going to wear Steve’s clothes. He couldn’t help the nervous laugh that trickled out between his fingers and pretended he wasn’t blushing at the idea of having Steve’s scent on him like that.

It was too bad that it wasn’t safe to correspond with Jan. She would have foamed at the mouth to read about it.

.-.

Steve’s shirt was a little too big (maybe a lot too big around the chest, Tony thought, pursing his lips), but Tony hadn’t been friends with Jan since they were toddlers to have gleaned nothing from her. Steve had brought him a sewing kit, and Tony had quickly added some slapdash hems, so he wasn’t swimming in it, while Steve had gone to get the horses saddled. It was passable for a ride and picnic, he supposed, frowning at the messy stitches and uneven hems. He probably could have done better with more time, or even a machine. He decided he wasn’t ever going to tell Jan about it. She’d shout at him for not absorbing more from her.

He was glad that Steve had given him the shirt and hat. It was still early morning, but he could feel the sun beating down across his shoulders and back. He would have burned beneath his shirt if he’d worn his own. He had to keep adjusting the hat, but he was glad for the coverage, guarding his eyes from the sun’s glare and keeping the heat off the back of his neck. Steve had promised to get him a hat that was sized properly as well, and Tony had felt a smidge of guilt that Steve was having to put out so much money on him so soon, but Steve had somehow noticed and assured him that Dr. Erskine had also had to put out money when he first arrived—it basically came with the territory of moving from one climate to another.

“Besides,” Steve had added cheerfully. “You’re my omega! I’m supposed to provide for you. What sort of alpha would I be if I left you to fend for yourself, especially when you don’t actually know what all you need?”

Tony had glowed a pleased pink in response, and it had nothing to do with the sun shining down on him.

Steve led him to the closest waterhole, pointing out all the trees to him—spruce, and pine, and juniper. Sometimes he cut sickly and dying trees to use for firewood, but it was a pain to haul them, so he mostly got his wood from a neighbor who was in the lumber industry in exchange for a handful of steers each year. He said that other parts of the property had wild berries, and sometimes Bucky’s family would come out and stay in Steve’s big house so they could spend the week picking them and make jam. They usually left a few jars before they returned back home, closer to town.

“Maybe they’ll let me help this year,” Tony mused, biting into a piece of fried sausage as he stared across the rolling grass. He turned to look up at Steve. “Will there be enough room for all of them with you in the guest room?”

“I always sleep in the guest room when the Barnes family comes to stay with me,” Steve answered with a shrug. “The girls use the big bed.”

Tony blinked, then looked back out at the hills. “Oh.”

“But obviously I’ll tell them things have changed,” Steve added hastily, sitting up straight. “I’m not kicking you out of your room for them, I was just saying it won’t be weird to see me in the guest room.”

“Are there many Barnes girls?” Tony asked, looking back up at him.

Steve squinted at him, as if there might be some sort of trick behind his question, before he finally answered, “…Four.”

“Four sisters,” Tony repeated quietly, wondering. Most of the families he knew rarely had more than two children. He wondered if that was because they didn’t want to spread their money around as much. Rich people were kind of miserly, even as they doted on the children they had, he remembered. And Mrs. Barnes had had five. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Steve asked, sounding honestly perplexed at the idea that they wouldn’t. “You’re new, exciting. They moved out here when they were still pretty young, so they don’t remember New York at all. I’m sure they’re going to ask you about everything from fashion to whether automobiles are real or if Buck and I made them up to tease them.”

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. “You must tease them a lot.”

Steve smiled back at him. “Yeah, well, there’s about a ten-year gap between Bucky and Becca. She's the next oldest. He says it’s to get back at having to help change all their diapers.”

Tony remembered the way Susan and Johnny Storm would bicker almost to the point of blows (at which point Johnny, terrified, would shy away). But he also remembered the way Sue’s eyes would narrow when she thought someone was slighting her brother, and the way Johnny’s hands would grip into fists if he didn’t like the way someone talked about his sister. Jan and Victor were only children, like him, but Ana had talked fondly of her siblings and how she missed them. He thought it might have been nice, having a sibling. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt so lonely.

He looked up at Steve again. “Do you think they’ll teach me how to make jam, too?”

Steve blinked, surprised, as if the thought they wouldn’t had never occurred to him. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just tell Mrs. Barnes that you wanna learn and she’ll be happy to have an extra set of hands.” He looked Tony up and down slowly, then offered him a wry smile. “Maybe you’ll be strong enough to lift the canning pot for her. Usually she gets me an’ Buck to put them on, then chases us back out of the house.”

“Uh,” Tony said, suddenly remembering how easily Steve had lifted his trunk at the depot when he’d needed to struggle with a cart.

“…Or maybe I’ll still do it,” Steve added quickly, apparently also remembering him fretting about the possibility of anvil in his trunk with how heavy it was. “Although—hopefully we’ll get a little more muscle on you before then.”

Tony reluctantly lifted his arm and flexed. “I hope so. I wasn’t expected or even allowed to do more than the minimum at home. I just had to try and look pretty.”

“I don’t think you have to try at all,” Steve said, then coughed, looking away from him quickly. He lifted a hand to cover the way the back of his neck had gone red. “Anyway. Over the next couple days, we’ll figure out some chores for you to take on. I can do the lion’s share for now, until you get the hang of it, then teach you new ones. Then when I’m taking the cattle to market next summer, you’ll be prepared to be on your own.”

Tony was a little worried about being on his own that long, but Steve had said he could have guests, and by then he’d have been there for a year. Hopefully he would have made friends by then. If nothing else, maybe he could invite the Barnes family around. He nodded, firming his resolve. He’d come here to be Steve’s omega and he’d understood all that entailed. He wouldn’t back out just because he was a little nervous for the future. “That sounds good. Thank you, Steve.”

“Well, of course,” Steve began, shrugging. “It’s my job to make sure you’re prepared for—”

“I meant it for you calling me pretty,” Tony cut in, and watched, amazed, as Steve’s face skipped pink entirely and went straight to cherry red.

.-.

There was a wagon set up in front of the house when they finally rode back. Two people stood from seats on the porch, but they were still hidden in its shade.

Tony couldn’t help but pull Brownie up short, cold sweat breaking out on his back at the thought that Obadiah had somehow found him. He considered turning Brownie and just galloping away, until the horse literally couldn’t anymore, and then getting off to sprint.

Then Steve lifted his arm, waving his hat at them in greeting, and called out, “Thor! If I’d known you were going to come today, I would have moved our picnic to tomorrow!”

Tony sagged as if his strings had been cut, lifting a shaking hand to wipe his face. He hoped Steve didn’t notice he’d almost taken flight. Hoped the two men hadn’t noticed either, or if they did, assumed he was a skittish city omega and not someone who had fled his home in terror. He sucked in a deep breath and urged Brownie forward again, trying not to look like his heart was still fluttering frantically beneath his ribs.

“Tony, this is Thor and Loki Odinson,” Steve continued cheerfully, oblivious, as the two men stepped down off the porch at their approach. “They own the local sawmill. I’d asked them for some lumber to make raised garden beds a while ago without putting a time constraint on it,” he added, grimacing in apology to them. “I thought I’d have more time to work on it.”

“We heard that Tony had arrived when we went into town yesterday,” the taller man said, turning a wide and disarming smile on Tony. “So of course we got the wood together to bring it over as quickly as possible. It’s not too late to plant.”

“It isn’t?” Tony asked, unable to help smiling back at him. Thor came across as very jovial. He decided he liked him. And it was nice to know he hadn’t missed the planting season entirely, apparently.

Loki shrugged, looking vaguely bored. “Eggplants. Snap beans. Tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes!” Tony exclaimed excitedly. He hadn’t seen any in the icebox beyond the three Steve had packed in the picnic basket, and Steve had let him eat all of them.

Steve once again didn’t manage to hide his grimace in response. Loki saw this, turned to Tony, and said, “I can bring you seeds and starter plants for three varieties.”

“Why did you bring him,” Steve asked Thor, who simply laughed in response.

Tony finally stepped down off of Brownie, then immediately regretted it. Sort of. Steve was big, and somehow, Thor was even bigger—taller, and broader, and somehow visibly more muscular. Loki was slighter, but he still had a few inches on Steve. He looked between all three of them, feeling positively tiny, even though back home, he was the average height. He asked, somewhat plaintively, “Is everyone this big out here?”

Steve and Thor stared at him in response, agog. Loki just shrugged, still looking bored. He reminded Tony of Victor, somehow. Perhaps the air that he was above any drama going on around him, or that he didn’t even really want to be there. He considered this, and the fact that when it had mattered most, Victor had been there to help him. So he cautiously asked, “Do you have any pointers on growing tomatoes? I didn’t get a chance to study gardening as much as I’d have liked before I came out.”

Loki’s eyes were sharp, like a cat’s, Tony thought, giving him a languid up-and-down before he lifted his hand to toss his hair over his shoulder. “Okay,” he replied, shrugging.

Tony couldn’t help but smile in response, relieved. “I have a book inside for notes. I’ll go get it.”

“Why don’t you take Loki with you?” Steve offered, shrugging. “Thor and I will get the lumber unloaded.”

Tony couldn’t help but blink in confusion. He could tell that Loki wasn’t an omega. “That’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered blithely, already rolling his sleeves up, as if he saw no problem with Tony talking with Loki alone.

Maybe he didn’t, Tony realized. If visitors were few and far between, maybe people just trusted each other more out here. Then again, maybe it was a money thing, too—society omegas were held to even higher standards than families with lower standing, he remembered Jarvis and Ana saying. “Okay,” he said, still a little hesitant, then turned back to Loki and motioned back toward the front house. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Loki began.

Steve thrust the picnic basket at him. For some reason, his eye contact looked more intense than it had been before. “Here, carry this, will you?”

Loki stared at him for a long moment, judgmental, before he repeated, “Sure.”

“I can carry it,” Tony offered, holding his hands out for it.

“Just get me a glass of water,” Loki said, not handing it to him.

It made Tony realize that he had no idea how long Loki and Thor had been waiting on the porch through the heat of the day. He nodded quickly, then turned, promising to bring a glass out to Steve and Thor, before he led the way up to the door. Loki followed him into the kitchen to set the picnic basket on the table, so Tony handed his glass directly to him before taking two more glasses of water out to Steve and Thor.

“Tony,” Thor began as he turned to take their empty glasses back into the house, and Tony turned back to him, wondering if he was going to be asked for a refill. Thor’s expression was solemn. “My brother can be a trickster, but his heart is in the right place. …Usually. …If he offends you, just tell me, and I’ll talk to him about it.”

Tony frowned, confused, and glanced at Steve, who simply shrugged in a way that somehow conveyed, ‘well, what can you do.’ “Oh, well. Um. Okay?” he offered, brows furrowing together. He didn’t quite understand why they were allowing him to be alone with Loki if they were that concerned about it, but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding like an asshole, so. He figured if Loki did anything untoward, he’d just scream, and Steve would appear out of thin air. It would probably be fine.

He returned to the kitchen with his notebook and pencil in hand. He knew a lot about beans and peas. He didn’t know much about eggplants or tomatoes. He wished, again, that he’d been able to prepare more before he came, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. Loki was… well, he sort of reminded Tony of Sue Storm’s cat, which waited until someone made eye contact with it before it batted fragile items off shelves. Except… taller.

Tony was beginning to expect the air out here bred giants.

“If you aren’t careful, your face will stick like that,” Loki said around a mouthful of fried chicken.

Tony hadn’t even been aware a piece of fried chicken had survived the picnic. He blinked for a moment, confused, then flushed in embarrassment. He must have been making a sour face. “Oh.” He schooled his expression into the practiced, vague smile he used back home when Ezekiel talked to him.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you want me to do with my face then?” Tony asked in exasperation.

“Just sit down so I can tell you about tomato plants,” Loki told him flatly. “What’s in this dough?”

Tony sat down at the table obediently. “Sausage.”

Loki poked through the basket again. “Alright. You better write fast, because I won’t repeat myself.”

Tony hurriedly flipped his notebook open to a clean page and picked up his pencil. “You didn’t strike me as someone who did.”

Loki slanted him one impressed stare before he said, “When you plant your tomatoes, you’re going to want to plant them with a stake or a trellis, so they have something to climb as they grow.”

Tony started scribbling, nodding. That made sense. He thought he remembered the tomato plants having those in the garden, when he’d been growing up.

“Tomatoes need six to eight hours of sun to bring out the best flavor,” Loki continued, not waiting for him to finish, and Tony’s scribbling became a little more frantic when he realized that Loki hadn’t been lying about not waiting for him.

.-.

Tony had a lot of information, by the time Thor and Steve tromped into the house. He rubbed a hand over his face as Steve leaned over him, mumbling, “This is a lot of work. Maybe next year we can do tomatoes, so I can focus on eggplants. You don’t even like tomatoes.”

“I mean, I do like them, just not like a fuckin’ apple,” Steve replied with a shrug.

Tony tipped his head back to stare at him, stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Steve had warned him he swore a lot. He’d been preparing himself for it. But Steve hadn’t sworn in front of him before, and he hadn’t expected it to be so casual. Well, he’d been doing hard work with Thor in the hot sun, if the way their shirts were clinging to them was any indication, so maybe they’d been talking… like that… the whole time he’d been inside with Loki. Maybe he'd forgotten he was coming back inside with mixed company, and that was why it had slipped out.

“…I mean not like a darn apple,” Steve added quickly, a touch of franticness to his voice.

“Are you telling me you’ve never sworn in front of Tony?” Thor asked, turning from pumping himself another glass of water. “Like, he’s been in your presence longer than an hour and this was the first time?”

Even Loki looked surprised. “I’m surprised you haven’t just spontaneously combusted.”

“Shut up,” Steve said, looking more miserable because of the conversation than he had when he’d walked in, exhausted, with Thor.

“It’s okay!” Tony hurried to assure him.

“It is not, this man is going to die,” Thor told him seriously. “He hasn’t watched his mouth so well since the last time his mother washed it out.”

“Shut up,” Steve repeated, glaring at him. “I’m absolutely capable of not swearing. We’ve been together for three days and this was the first time.”

Loki and Thor didn’t look convinced. “You sound weird. Normally you’d sprinkle in a couple swears in that,” Loki said, leaning his chin on his hand.

Steve swiveled to look at Tony again. “Tony. I’m going to ask you to go upstairs and cover your ears.”

“I can handle it!” Tony exclaimed. He wasn’t entirely sure though. Loki and Thor were making him have doubts.

“You should go upstairs and cover your ears,” Thor agreed, and Loki nodded sympathetically.

Tony looked back and forth between all of them, not quite feeling ganged up on, but almost. “Well… I guess I’ll go,” he finally said, gathering his notes and pencil before he stood up. He gave them all a supremely unimpressed frown. “But I’m going because I want to, not because you told me to.”

“Of course,” they agreed solemnly, and Tony took a moment to be incredibly weirded out by it before he left the kitchen and scurried up the stairs.

He paused outside the door to his room, then called out, “I’m going in my room now!” Only once he got a chorus of acknowledgment did he step inside. He waited with the door cracked, unable to help his curiosity, because surely they couldn’t be that loud.

The explosion started immediately, outraged ‘what the hell’s and ‘I’m tryin’ not to be an asshole’s and ‘We’ve known each other in person three fucking days can you give me a goddamn break?!’ They were interspersed with laughter (good-natured, he thought) and what sounded like ‘how did you keep your dumb ass from just exploding in frustration.’ It didn’t… sound angry, he thought. It sounded more like how Jarvis and Ana bickered, or the way he argued with Jan when she thought he should wear more daring colors and he didn’t want to stand out. It sounded… friendly? Like a disagreement with emotions high, but with low stakes, sort of like when he’d insisted cotton was fine and Jan had howled about linen, both of them knowing it didn't really matter but very passionate about it anyway.

“Oh no,” Tony murmured as more swears started to get slung around, finally turning the knob and pulling the door shut all the way. He could still hear muffled bellowing, but none of the words. He took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship that it showed, that Steve had built the house and door so that it blocked out most noise. He’d have to compliment him on that later. After things had been settled downstairs, of course.

He looked down at his notes, flipping through them. It seemed like there was a lot going on with each plant, but there was some overlap. Apparently, all of the plants needed something to climb up. He wondered if it would be too much. It seemed like a lot of extra work, and they were getting a late start. He didn’t want to make it too difficult, although Steve had said he’d have no problem with it. Besides, with the cattle gone to market, he’d said there wasn’t much to do anyway.

Tony paused, then let out a little hum, walking over to the bed and climbing on top of it. He opened the notebook to a new page so he could edit what he’d scribbled down properly. He didn’t know how long Steve was going to be entertaining(?) his friends or when he would be allowed down, so he could fill his time with getting his thoughts in order. After all, he wanted to be prepared when Loki brought over the plants for him, if he still wanted to. Steve had said the garden could be his responsibility, and he couldn’t help but want to prove that he could do it, especially with how much Steve had to teach him now.

He tipped his head as he heard the yelling stop, wondering if he’d be called back down, but then there was another shout, and a loud thump, like furniture being forced to move quickly. He’d become familiar with the sound when he visited Sue and she and Johnny would get into scuffles before someone separated them. He figured it probably wasn’t a real fight, but he also wasn’t going to go down there and find out. It was better to just wait until someone presented themselves to him, mussed up but pointedly ignoring it. He had a garden to plan, after all.

#aurumacadicus writes #stony #sincerely yours

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