I am just drowning in the stevetony fluff this week. Look at me writing everything except my stonya3 fic. Yikes.
He could hear Natasha laughing when he shuffled into the kitchen. He had spent the night catching up on the sleep he had lost during his work binge the last couple days, so he knew he probably looked a mess. He had had enough sense last night to take a shower before bed, but he probably still looked like a bleary-eyed crazy person.
He dragged himself over the coffee maker and grunted when he saw it was empty.
“Sorry, Tony,” Clint says, holding what Tony is assuming to be the last cup of the last pot in his hand. “Didn’t think you were going to be up this early.”
Tony turned back to the coffee maker and let out a little whine that he knew probably sounded pretty pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He grumbled a bit to himself as he went about making another pot.
He had just finished setting everything up and was leaning back against the counter with his eyes closed when he heard Steve come back from his run. He let himself slouch a little further into the counter, listening to the noises going on around him. He rubbed his eye with his palm, trying to get rid of the gritty, feeling in them.