I'm Spongebob? (Stony AU)

Chapter 5: Stupid Towel

Steve looked at the clock on the wall as the doorbell rang. He was early. Four hours early.

Well, that is assuming the person ringing the bell was, in fact, him and not Ms. Sheryl from the third floor who forgot her key again. He finished the last of his toast and downed his milk as he walked to the answering machine.

Pressing the button he asked, "Hello?"

"Hey, Steve it's me. I have your clothes." A beautiful deep voice answered him.

So it was him.

"Uhh, Mr. Stark. Sorry, I must have gotten the hours mixed up. I thought you said you were coming at noon."

"Yeah. But I was in the area and figured hey why not? Have you had breakfast yet? Come down and I'll drive us someplace to eat." The voice dripped like honey through the machine, echoing in Steve's tiny apartment.

Tony in the area? Yeah right, for what? Maybe he had more important things to do later and just figured he'd get this over and done with. Yeah, that was probably it. Steve thought he should have insisted harder that it was okay Tony keep his clothes, but unlike Tony, he did not "have many." And besides, Tony was probably insisting so hard that he come drop them off because he wanted to forget that night ever happened, wanted to erase every trace, every piece of evidence. Though then again, he could have just burned the clothes or thrown them away if he didn't want to remember...but whatever, details.

"Is that a yes? Or have you already eaten?" Tony's voice once again filled the apartment. Steve glanced towards his kitchen, his plate still resting on the table, empty. Then down at the glass he was still holding, empty.

He pushed the button. "Nope, haven't eaten yet," he hid the glass behind his back as though Tony might somehow be able to magically see it.

"Okay then get dressed and come down." Tony chimed into the box, Steve could hear the smirk.

"Okay. I'll be down in five minutes." Steve replied shakily into the box.

He looked down at his body... he was already dressed.

He had spent about an hour trying to decide what to wear for when the great Tony Stark arrived to drop off his clothes. He was doing this of course because as a journalist he wanted to look professional among such a great businessman and innovator. That was totally the only reason why he cared so much about how he looked. But what was he supposed to wear for going out for breakfast with Tony? For appearances of course. No other reason, other than PR and, well you know, not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of Stark.

He quickly ran back to his room and opened his tiny closet. His brain simply yelled "AHHHHHH" as he looked at his options, was it going to be casual, formal? Rogers, you are overthinking this, he yelled at himself and looked at his nightstand clock. What the- How had TWO whole minutes already passed by? Oh, what the hell. He grabbed a pair dark blue jeans, a white v-neck and a dark blue blazer to make him look more formal, but not too much so as to scare Stark away, making him think he was desperately trying too hard.

He raced down the stairs, stopping just before reaching the front door to check his reflection in one of his neighbor's glass doors. Okay, not too bad, he shrugged as he pushed his fingers through his hair. He slowly walked down the remaining steps, trying to catch his breath, can't let Tony think he raced down the stairs like some crazy fan right?

"Hi," he smiled wildly as he opened the door, it took him a second to regain his thoughts upon seeing Tony Fucking Stark.

As always, the man looked perfect, even when he had been throwing up in Steve's bathroom, face contorted in pain, he was still the most precious thing Steve had ever seen, brown locks of hair making their way to those amazing-I can stare into forever how are they so deep-brown eyes. Steve assessed the man in front of him, and he had a strange feeling the man was doing the same to him.