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“You suck,” Tony laughed, shaking the snow off of his hat from where Steve had just smeared it.
“You’re the one who pushed me,” Steve replied calmly, like the little shit he was, brushing the rest of the snow off his fingers so that it landed on the ice below them.
Tony laughed again, pushing off the wall of the skating rink so he could glide a few feet in front of Steve before he caught up. Tony knew he couldn’t get far without Steve to hold onto, but he liked the little thrill he got when he felt Steve hurry after him and put a hand on the small of his back to steady him.
“Stop that,” he scolded. Tony giggled in response, though he’d never admit to the sound outside of this moment. Something about the cold and the brightness of the classic Christmas music over the speakers filled him with a different kind of energy than he was used to. He knew manic energy — that was three day work binges in his lab with barely a pause to down a smoothie or protein bar; and he knew nervous energy — that was standing in front of a doctoral committee with something he’d been working on for years, knowing the panel of rich, white bastards couldn’t wait to see a 22 year old fail; he even knew the healthy energy you get after a full nights rest — bounding into Pepper’s office with a new project for her. This was a different energy, bubbling brightly inside of him, filling him with a boyish excitement he couldn’t even remember having in his childhood. This was an unfiltered happiness — and he suspected it had a big something to do with the hunky blonde fretting over his balance issues and lack of coordination on ice.
“Thinking about something?” The fretting hunk in question broke Tony out of his thoughts. He lifted his eyes from where they had been staring at his skates glide in and out smoothly (with Steve’s help) to meet Steve’s. The blue looked even brighter next to his pink tinged skin. “You’re never usually this quiet. Did you hit your head on fall number 17?”
“Har har,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes to cover up the blush rising on his cheeks.
“Come on,” Steve pressed fondly, giving him a nudge that turned into more of a mutual sway with how closely and gently Steve was holding him. “Tell me the cold hasn’t wiped away all of your higher brain functions,”
“I lived in New York for a majority of my life too, you know,” Tony retorted back. “I know how to handle the cold,”
“No, I think Malibu softened you up too much,” Steve teased, “Just let me know when you need a break from the harsh indoor weather conditions,”
Tony rolled his eyes again at his ridiculous and totally unfunny boyfriend, but took the out because, well, skating took a lot out of your legs, okay?
“Come on, City Boy, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate,” Tony told him, steering them vaguely towards the exit but mostly letting Steve do the heavy lifting.
They clunked onto the platform and Tony held onto the railing while his body got used to being on ground that didn’t want to kill you. “Why did humans turn this into a sport? There are a million movies telling you how dangerous walking onto a frozen body of water is,”
“I don’t think I need to remind you again that this was your idea,” Steve laughed in reply, holding his hand while they waddled in their skates over to the concession stand.
“Yeah, well, Christmas activities are in short supply in Malibu, so lets just take what we can get,”
“Tony,” Steve said in that voice that really said I love you, adorable idiot, but I’ve said this a thousand times too many, “I’m more than happy to do anything with you, but don’t twist yourself around for me. I’d be perfectly fine spending the entire week indoors, just you and me,” he squeezed Tony’s elbow gently, a small smile lighting up his face.
“We’ll get to that, don’t you worry,” Tony smirked back, enjoying the gentle flush that filled Steve’s cheeks that Tony knew wasn’t from the cold. “You love these kind of winter-y things Steve, don’t pretend you don’t. And you’re the one who could actually carve the time out, so—“
“Hey,” Steve cut him off, “What did I literally just say? I’m perfectly happy doing anything with you. Whether it’s here, or in New York, or freaking China for all I care. If you’re there, I’ll be happy.”
Tony sighed, leaning forward so his forehead thumped onto Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, we’ve talked about this. You can’t just say these kinds of things so casually in the middle of a greasy ice rink concession stand —“
“Hi, could we have two large hot chocolates? Thank you so much,” Steve said over Tony’s head, then his arm lifted as he presumably handed over some cash to the worker.
“Hey!” Tony nearly shouted, whirling around to see if he couldn’t grab the cash back. “I said I’d buy you the hot chocolate!”
“Well you were too busy scolding me for talking about how much I love you — now, hush, Sweetheart I’m trying to talk to someone,” Steve said, hooking an arm around his waist to pull him back and out of his way. Tony huffed, crossing his arms as the worker brought over the two drinks, forcing Steve to let him go so he could grab both.
“You suck,” he muttered, but there was about as much heat to it as there was in Tony’s toes, which wasn’t a lot, and he squeezed himself under Steve’s arm before taking one of the drinks for himself.
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“Ready?” Steve asked as he finished tucking his hat and gloves neatly into his coat pockets and folded the fabric over his arm.
“Yeah,” Tony replied, doing the same with his winter attire and patting his jeans pocket to double check his keys were there. He reached over to grab Steve’s hand before they pushed open the double doors and the pleasantly cool ice rink air gave way to Malibu’s heavy heat. Steve, who was very much used to New York’s below freezing temperatures, had particularly complained on the way over, regretting his choice of bringing jeans instead of shorts. Even now Tony could see the slight scowl on his face as they made their way down the sidewalk.
Tony squeezed his hand teasingly. “You okay? Not going to suffer heat stroke?”
“I think I’ll live,” Steve replied exasperatedly, but his smile was fond as he gazed over at Tony. Tony looked down at his shoes, his cheeks growing warm under Steve’s look. After nearly two years, he thought he would have gotten used to this by now, but having someone love him enough to be content just looking over at him still took him off guard.
Tony didn’t know if he was relieved or annoyed when his phone went off and both him and Steve looked down at the screen to see Pepper’s message. It was a picture of her and Happy sharing a margarita in the sand, presumably just near the water, where Tony knew Pepper’s favorite beach spot was. The attached caption read, “why r u and steve not here acutly enjoying your day off??”
Steve hummed next to him. “They look cozy.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed noncommittally, worry eating away at him again. “Did you want to go to the beach? We could probably still make a day of it if we were quick.”
“Only if you wanted to,” Steve replied breezily, “I already said I—“
“—am happy doing whatever with me, I know. I remember,” Tony maturely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You really need to stop putting me in charge of all the decision making, it’s a lot of pressure.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” Steve frowned over at him. They both slowed to a stop as they reached Tony’s car, but instead of heading over to the passenger side, he pulled both of Tony’s hands into his and faced him fully.
“You gave up your Christmas at home to be with me. I just want to make sure we’re doing things you want to do,” Tony finally let out, letting his shoulders slump slightly in defeat of his confession.
“All I wanted to do for Christmas was hop on a plane so I could spend it with you,” Steve told him seriously, his voice soft but firm enough to leave no room for argument on Tony’s side. “Home is where you are. You know Buck and Nat and the rest will be fine without me. I already got what I wanted for Christmas. So if you want to go spend the rest of the day at the beach with Pepper, or if you wanted to go back and ice skate all week, let’s do it. But what do you want to do, Tony? Really?” Steve stressed, his blue eyes locked onto Tony’s like they weren’t standing in a sketchy parking lot next to an alley, about to go over their time limit on the meter. Like Tony was the only thing that mattered in the world.
“I want to…go home. Eat some of those cookies you made. Put on a Elf and some sweaters and pretend we aren’t in Malibu for a little bit.” Tony admitted quietly, doing his best to hold Steve’s gaze, hoping it didn’t waver as much as his voice did.
“That sounds about perfect to me, Sweetheart,” Steve smiled, “Let’s go home then.”
I want ‘home’ to still be your old apartment in New York. I want to wake up everyday knowing you’re just in the shower and say good bye after breakfast knowing I’ll see you for dinner. I don’t want a constant countdown in my head of when you’ll have to fly across the country again. I don’t want this dream job if I have to do it without you, Tony thought, but didn’t say. Would never say, because he knew how the guilt looks that would overtake Steve’s face from saying it far too many times already. As if Steve is the one who needs to feel guilty about the arrangement.
Steve squeezed his hand and smiled over the center council at him once they had gotten in the car. Tony smiled back, banishing all those thoughts from his mind, burying the doom counter in the corner of his brain where it hopefully wouldn’t rear it’s ugly head any time soon, and drove home to spend Christmas with Steve.