[There's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, something that seems to have been a little bit of a permanent fixture since Steve showed up tonight. Steve, his favorite person, his best friend, his hero. And here he is, waxing poetic about all the good things about Tony. Things Tony isn't in a rush to see- doesn't really think on and doesn't really know if they're actually true.
Steve sees him with a kinder eye. And it's nice. To be bathed in that light. It always is. Even if it's sometimes a little too bright. A little too hard to sit under when he thinks that there are just too many other underlying factors, negative things. A large ugly life that came before he decided to make a change- and mistakes he still keeps making.
He's lucky for Steve's love this much is true. And his thoughts are a little too clouded still to start doing the refuting song and dance. Definitely not sharp enough to twist away from the commentary or redirect.
A yawn comes before his next answer, still buried into Steve's shoulder.]
Save it. For the altar, but keep talking. Your voice is one of my favorite things.
[Which has been a consistent thread for him. He loves listening to Steve's stories, loves listening to him talk about his day, about their current plans on or off the field- about anything. There's something about that deep cadence, the vibration in his chest while he's so near. The thought that he'd like to curl up on top of him, much like a cat, apparently wins out a little bit when loose uncoordinated limbs push up and he perches himself atop Steve to rest his head directly against Steve's chest, further lulled almost immediately by the strong beat of his heart.
And it doesn't matter- if Steve's been talking during the transition or started now- or even asked Tony what the hell he's doing- in a very unconnected thought while he realizes he's ten seconds to lights out, comfortable and comforted by Steve, he feels like it's very important to say one last thing-]
no subject
Steve sees him with a kinder eye. And it's nice. To be bathed in that light. It always is. Even if it's sometimes a little too bright. A little too hard to sit under when he thinks that there are just too many other underlying factors, negative things. A large ugly life that came before he decided to make a change- and mistakes he still keeps making.
He's lucky for Steve's love this much is true. And his thoughts are a little too clouded still to start doing the refuting song and dance. Definitely not sharp enough to twist away from the commentary or redirect.
A yawn comes before his next answer, still buried into Steve's shoulder.]
Save it. For the altar, but keep talking. Your voice is one of my favorite things.
[Which has been a consistent thread for him. He loves listening to Steve's stories, loves listening to him talk about his day, about their current plans on or off the field- about anything. There's something about that deep cadence, the vibration in his chest while he's so near. The thought that he'd like to curl up on top of him, much like a cat, apparently wins out a little bit when loose uncoordinated limbs push up and he perches himself atop Steve to rest his head directly against Steve's chest, further lulled almost immediately by the strong beat of his heart.
And it doesn't matter- if Steve's been talking during the transition or started now- or even asked Tony what the hell he's doing- in a very unconnected thought while he realizes he's ten seconds to lights out, comfortable and comforted by Steve, he feels like it's very important to say one last thing-]
Goodnight, beloved.