Stony Oneshots (Requests open)

Sweater Weather

REQUEST:

Can you please write one where gets really possessive of Tony when he wears Steve's clothes? - ConfusedCapsicle

I completed your request, I hope that you like it! 

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Sweater Weather

It's late when Steve returns home from the conference but it's still almost light outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon of the city. Rain pitter-patters merrily on the windows when Steve finally makes it up to his and Tony's floor and rolls in little rivulets down the ceiling to floor panes as Steve pads into the carpeted floor and makes his way to the bedroom where he can shrug out of his suit and leave it crumpled on the floor, allow himself to relax and slip into a soft pair of sweatpants and slide between the cool, silk duvet covers that adorn the bed that Tony and him share.  

He's a day earlier than expected, but he hadn’t called ahead to talk to Tony or tell anyone, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he wanted to surprise his lover, see the look of joy and happiness and maybe then he'd admit just how much he missed the other man. All he wants to do is crawl onto his spot on the couch next to Tony and tug the older, smaller man onto his lap, bury his face in the messy black hair and breathe the familiar, comforting scent of warmth, grease and spicy scent of Tony that would help sooth him from this week’s exploits. 

Softly smiling to himself Steve pushes open another door and walks towards the bedroom, letting his eyes and hands wander over the apartment that has become home. Lavishly furnished the place screams Tony but Steve loves it because it breathes Tony and he is kind of head-over-heels in love with Tony Stark. High ceilings give the rooms an airy, open feel, like he can stretch up and out and breathe in and out, as deeply as he can. Even when the lights are dimmed, like they are now, they still give the same impression so Steve stops in his tracks for a moment and just breathes in deeply and lets his worries of the day fade away. Popping the buttons of his shirt open Steve pushes open the door to the bedroom and stops in his tracks. 

There is someone curled up in the bed. Not just someone, the someone, the one that Steve has been yearning to see almost since the minute that he left. Tony is curled up on his side, his head nestled into the pillow that’s on Steve's side of the bed, eyes closed and his chest rising evenly as he breathed in and out. He's facing the window, but also angled towards the door almost like he fell asleep waiting for Steve to get home. The duvet is haphazardly thrown over half his body, tucked under his arms, one of his hands resting on his stomach and the other thrown into the space that Steve should have been. The overall picture makes Steve's stomach cramp with emotion, an emotion that he was surprised that he could still manage to feel after losing his first love. His fists clench onto his shirt and he bites the inside of his cheek, a desperate attempt to not let the whimper escape him.  

He can't deny that finding Tony asleep in his bed isn’t doing things to him, isn’t making a curl of possessive heat spiral and slink through his gut. Tony is here. He is Steve's, he said so in front of witnesses but this, this, finding him here, curled up in their bed of his own free will means so much more than that. It was almost like there was nowhere else that he wanted to be at that moment. Steve smiles, aware that this situation is ridiculously sappy but he couldn't give a damn. As he moves closer to the bed, his hand hovers the duvet and he recognise the hugely oversized rich blue sweater that Tony is wearing, no, huddling into, hands curled over the ends of the sleeves, clinging onto it. It’s the same sweater that Steve wears when the nights draw closer and the coldness seeps into his bones, and watching Tony wear it warms him up with a burst of heat in his lower abdomen.