Think the music will carry that far? Or will we just not care by that point?
[It could go either way. Really. Tony's not sure how he'll feel on the day of. He thinks the chances that he's lost in an overly-romantic daze will be extremely high. The chance that anyone will even be able to hold his attention is very slim. He'll have eyes for only Steve the whole night, in every sense of the idea.
But. However true that may be and however much they love each other, great though that is, that doesn't quite stop him from being a little bit of a brat right now.]
Order whatever you want- for you. I don't need anything. I'm- I'll survive. I'm fine. Fever's going down, right? I'm okay.
[ Tony's incorrigible, but Steve's just as stubborn. ]
And I think it'll be more romantic if it's just far-off, barely carrying into the room.
[ Like they'd just happened to stop by a concert hall with the music bleeding into the streets, and wanted to dance. Of course, Tony would probably get them into the concert hall if Steve wanted, but that's not the romantic part of the fantasy. ]
Order away. Whatever you're getting just get two of. ...or a little less than. Like one and a quarter.
[Because Steve's version of ordering food is fit for army consumption and Tony's not really in the mood to eat anything at all. Which is only a very small step below where he usually is.
He breathes out a long, slow breath, arm shifting down to rest over his chest, though his eyes remain closed. Picturing the two of them, slowly box-stepping their way, or more likely, just swaying in the room with all the Monets. Music in the hall only barely drifting in.
It is a very beautiful picture.]
I like it. We'll have to put out the memo that that room is off limits once we're out and about. [Joking, slightly. Surely they wouldn't bar their guests from the other feature attraction aside the two of them being wed. But. He also doesn't want anyone around. He just wants Steve and their night for himself. Even when they literally can't have that since they're having a grand wedding.
Softly, as he drifts a little to this nice little picture in his head, he finally relents.]
Chicken noodle soup. I think I can handle that. Supposed to make you better, right? Maybe a buttered roll. [To soak up everything in his stomach. Though that's more a hangover cure than a sickness thing but at this point it's mostly the same.]
[ Steve, who always orders about six things, is probably just going to order a full smorgasbord and worry about the logistics later. They always do that though, with Tony picking at the food that Steve orders and Steve eating the rest. He doesn't see why today would be different.
But then Tony actually requests a food. A real food. And it makes Steve feel better, instantly. He hadn't thought it would, to such an extent. ]
Chicken soup, buttered roll. Maybe some fruit.
[ He's under the distinct impression that Tony can always tuck away some vitamin c, but Steve adds: ]
--No melon.
[ At least, not three pounds of melon. ]
And most fluids are supposed to be good for you, right now. Not coffee, so don't ask.
[Fruit just always seems to be one of the things he grabs. Easily walked around with or while he's working. Better when it's dried, freeze-dried, or cut up into little pieces. Portable. But he can't help the way he grins, worn out though it is, when Steve follows up.]
Are we cutting melon out forever because of the gift basket thing?
[And just like that despite his minor lift in good mood, Steve laying down the law gets a low noise of upset out of him. Something very similar to a whine.]
Coffee will help. Put some pep in my step. I think that'd help everyone. Don't you wanna see me up and around?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[It could go either way. Really. Tony's not sure how he'll feel on the day of. He thinks the chances that he's lost in an overly-romantic daze will be extremely high. The chance that anyone will even be able to hold his attention is very slim. He'll have eyes for only Steve the whole night, in every sense of the idea.
But. However true that may be and however much they love each other, great though that is, that doesn't quite stop him from being a little bit of a brat right now.]
Order whatever you want- for you. I don't need anything. I'm- I'll survive. I'm fine. Fever's going down, right? I'm okay.
no subject
[ Tony's incorrigible, but Steve's just as stubborn. ]
And I think it'll be more romantic if it's just far-off, barely carrying into the room.
[ Like they'd just happened to stop by a concert hall with the music bleeding into the streets, and wanted to dance. Of course, Tony would probably get them into the concert hall if Steve wanted, but that's not the romantic part of the fantasy. ]
no subject
[Because Steve's version of ordering food is fit for army consumption and Tony's not really in the mood to eat anything at all. Which is only a very small step below where he usually is.
He breathes out a long, slow breath, arm shifting down to rest over his chest, though his eyes remain closed. Picturing the two of them, slowly box-stepping their way, or more likely, just swaying in the room with all the Monets. Music in the hall only barely drifting in.
It is a very beautiful picture.]
I like it. We'll have to put out the memo that that room is off limits once we're out and about. [Joking, slightly. Surely they wouldn't bar their guests from the other feature attraction aside the two of them being wed. But. He also doesn't want anyone around. He just wants Steve and their night for himself. Even when they literally can't have that since they're having a grand wedding.
Softly, as he drifts a little to this nice little picture in his head, he finally relents.]
Chicken noodle soup. I think I can handle that. Supposed to make you better, right? Maybe a buttered roll. [To soak up everything in his stomach. Though that's more a hangover cure than a sickness thing but at this point it's mostly the same.]
no subject
But then Tony actually requests a food. A real food. And it makes Steve feel better, instantly. He hadn't thought it would, to such an extent. ]
Chicken soup, buttered roll. Maybe some fruit.
[ He's under the distinct impression that Tony can always tuck away some vitamin c, but Steve adds: ]
--No melon.
[ At least, not three pounds of melon. ]
And most fluids are supposed to be good for you, right now. Not coffee, so don't ask.
no subject
Are we cutting melon out forever because of the gift basket thing?
[And just like that despite his minor lift in good mood, Steve laying down the law gets a low noise of upset out of him. Something very similar to a whine.]
Coffee will help. Put some pep in my step. I think that'd help everyone. Don't you wanna see me up and around?
no subject
[ Tony up and about doesn't mean that he's gotten better, after all. ]
And you're cutting out melons. Life's too short, you should eat only the fruits you want to eat. You like blueberries. I'll get you blueberries.
[ He'll also supreme some citrus for Tony, just because preparing fruit for someone is a love language that Steve speaks. ]