steve makes apple pie, all cinnamon and brown sugar and crispy golden pastry.
tony’s down in his workshop all day, kind of wondering where steve is, because steve’s been coming down every day recently, sitting there sketching and frowning over the art course he’s doing via correspondence. it’s been their little routine, steve brings tony coffee and sometimes they talk and sometimes it’s just quiet and it’s so. good.
it feels kinda empty somehow without steve there. tony feels itchy and awkward and lonely and grumpy, and when he finally hears steve coming in he doesn’t turn round or say hello. he knows it’s childish but he does it anyway.
‘hey,’ steve says behind him, and okay, that’s weird, what’s that sweet cinnamon smell? tony turns round, and he’s going to go for nonchalent, he hasn’t missed steve, who him? but then he sees that steve’s wearing an apron and carrying a hot, steaming, golden apple pie. tony’s eyes go round.
‘steve?’ he says, ‘what - why are you carrying a pie, what are you doing?’
steve’s cheeks are pink but he’s smiling down at tony with soft eyes, and oh, look, it’s too bright, tony somehow can’t look at steve properly.
'i made it for you,’ steve says, and then he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot and stutters, 'because - because you’re sweet as pie, tony, and i - i wanna take you out, on. on a date.’
'oh my god,’ tony says. 'you did not. did you really? sweet as pie, did you, did you actually say that? about me?’
steve carefully puts the pie down on the nearest flat surface. 'yep,’ he says, and wow, okay, this is, wow, tony can get with this because steve’s reaching for him, one firm hand at tony’s waist and the other cupping the back of his neck, guiding his face up.
and steve bend down and kisses him, slow and gentle, and tony’s senses are on overload because everything’s steve, steve tastes like cinnamon and apple and he feels so warm and good.
when steve pulls back a little, tony’s eyes stay closed for moment, fluttering, and he makes a little soft protesting sound. and steve laughs quietly and presses his nose against tony’s. 'sweet as pie,’ he whispers.