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“Wait, no, not in there!” Tony tried to cry out before Steve opened up the wrong door in the hall, but it was too late. He’d been looking for some extra lights he could hang around the fireplace, so Tony directed him to the storage closet in the hall, but he’d ended up opening the door to the spare bedroom instead.
“I said third door on the left, not second,” Tony protested, quickly running over to slam the door shut and pray that Steve hadn’t seen what was inside. He knew the second he looked at Steve’s face that he hadn’t been fast enough, though. Steve’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in surprise, and his face lit up in a soft expression of love.
“Was that my Christmas present?” He asked quietly.
Tony grumbled to himself for a second before landing solidly on avoidance, and grabbed Steve’s wrist to pull him the other way. “Here, the lights are in the closet. All the way to the right on the top,”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the surprise, I just — I thought my present was already under the tree?”
Tony sighed. “That’s — one thing, this was…something else,” he replied, his voice choppy as he tried to come up with an explanation off the top of his head, but it wasn’t working out.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop asking,” Steve promised, having the decency to look somewhat contrite, but the feeling was muted by the pleased smile he was doing a bad job of hiding and the way he bounced slightly up and down on his toes. Tony sighed again, still holding Steve’s wrist, and dragged him back over to the door.
“Well, you already saw it, might as well get your opinion.”
“You don’t have to, I’m sure whatever you pick will be great,” Steve tried to assure him, but he followed Tony eagerly into the room and over to the bed where Tony had everything laid out. It wasn’t put together yet; Tony had actually just begun to sort everything out when Steve surprised him, and since he’d been here Tony hadn’t been able to work on it at all on account of refusing to leave Steve’s side. Since their ice skating adventure, they’d rarely left the house, mostly just decorating and enjoying each other’s company. They both had some remote work to do, and being able to cuddle up next to Steve with a tablet to look over specs made them infinitely more enjoyable.
All that to say, the idea that had struck Tony a couple of weeks ago was still lying disassembled on the spare bed. Mostly it was pictures, dozens of them that Tony had gotten printed and spread across the comforter so he could choose his favorites and try to fit them into an okay looking collage on the still uncut piece of wood lying next to them. The ingredients for his home-made mod-podge were on the night stand.
“It’s…not really much yet,” Tony admitted self-consciously, “I haven’t even chosen what the shape of the wood should really be yet. I could have had it made too, but I thought…” He trailed off, because honestly he wasn’t sure what he had thought. Maybe the Steve’s Christmas spirit had gotten to him, he thought, mentally shuddering.
Steve saved him from trying to come up with an ending to the sentence by pulling him in for a hard kiss. Tony felt Steve’s arms wrap firmly around his waist, pulling him up almost in a bend as Steve leaned down to deepen it. He pulled away slowly, letting it linger on for a few seconds before whispering, “It looks like it’s going to be beautiful. I can’t wait to take it home.”
“I don’t really know how it’ll turn out, so don’t get your hopes up,” Tony tried to deflect, but shut himself up at Steve’s unimpressed look.
“Like anything you set your mind to doesn’t turn out perfect,” Steve said flatly, then turned back to the bed. “Where’d you get the wood from?”
“Um,” Tony scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Do you remember that old coffee you and Bucky broke playing uno?”
Steve’s cheeks colored. “The one you told ma you would throw out for her?” Then realization dawned on his face. “It’s ma’s old coffee table?”
“I thought some of the bigger pieces might come in handy some day, so I threw them in my workshop, and I had everything from my workshop shipped here, and viola! My hoarding tendencies came in handy.”
Steve looked down at the piece of wood, tears slowly filling his eyes. “Steve…” Tony said gently, then opted to slot himself into his arms instead, wrapping his own arms around Steve’s waist and holding him close.
“I know, I’m sorry, I just—“ He wiped his sleeve against his eyes harshly.
“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for,” Tony told him seriously.
“It’s just a table,” Steve whispered roughly.
“But it was hers,” Tony argued softly. He gently rubbed the back of his knuckles over Steve’s cheeks, taking care of the lone tear he let slip out, and Steve closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Steve’s mom died not long after they’d graduated high school, and it had torn Steve apart. It had always just been Steve and Sarah for as long as Tony had known them both, and Sarah had been Steve’s world for a long time. Even though Tony had never seen Steve so completely devastated, Steve had somehow turned to Tony for comfort, drawing him ever closer when Tony had been prepared to step away. That was the time Tony knew he and Steve were something serious, so Tony held on and refused to let go ever since.
As Tony reminisced, he watched Steve take a deep steadying breath before looking back at the supplies.
“What pictures did you choose?” Steve asked.
“I don’t know. A lot. Whatever fits on there really.” Tony replied, studying Steve’s face as Steve studied the pictures laid out on the bed.
“I always liked this one,” Steve smiled, tapping his finger lightly onto one of the photos.
“I know,” Tony rolled his eyes. It’s the only reason he picked it, and why he knew it would probably end up in the final portrait. The picture showed the two of them at a table in McDonald’s at around three in the morning after seeing the newest Star Wars film in theaters. Tony was wearing his cheesy “Sith Happens” shirt and R2D2 hat while looking excitedly over a poster he had gotten at the theater. Steve, on the other hand, was sitting quietly to his left, a smiling look of adoration on his face as he listened to whatever Tony was rambling on about. Natasha had taken the shot, and as soon as Tony saw it, he immediately protested it’s existence because of the overwhelming geek energy it had. He learned to stop arguing as he quickly realized Steve would fight tooth and nail over the picture, so Tony accepted it with a grumble.
Steve’s eyes moved away from the photo to another one of the two of them, taken during their vacation to Hawaii, then to another from their senior prom. Tony couldn’t even guess how many pictures he’d had printed; there were dozens spread everywhere. He squeezed Steve’s hand.
“Why don’t you start picking out some of your favorites, and I’ll get some tools from the workshop downstairs to start shaping the wood, yeah?” Tony suggested.
“How many do I pick? What will fit on the wood do you think?”
“I don’t know, Babe, you’re the artist. You figure it out,” Tony winked teasingly at Steve’s lighthearted glare before moving to retrieve the tools he needed. Before he got too far, Steve caught him gently around the waist, bringing him into a light, sweet kiss.
“Thank you for this Tony. It’s such an amazing gift.”
“Only the best for you,” Tony replied, his breathlessness taking away from the flirty tone he was going for. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”