(hi! nasafic here. happy holidays! I hope you enjoy this little fic - I really went full Established Relationship Domesticity on this one, haha. set in whatever universe you like!)
They’re halfway through what passes as a date, these days - McDonald’s takeout, scarfed down after a long day of meetings - when Tony says, “Ooh, you’ve got a huge pimple.” He sets down his burger, licks grease off of his thumb, and reaches forward. “Let me just -“
But Steve ducks away before he can touch. “Tony, no,” he complains. “We’re eating.”
“Aw, come on, please?” Tony doesn’t wait for Steve’s assent, getting his thumbs on either side of the pimple on Steve’s jaw and squeezing. Steve huffs but doesn’t stop him, waiting impatiently as Tony squeezes at his zit.
“Ow,” he says, then, “Ow,” again, more pointedly, as the pain spikes. Tony frowns, but he drops his hands, and the sharp sting drops to an ache.
“It’s really stuck in there,” he says. “I should go get my lancing kit.”
“Oh, god. Is it really that urgent?”
“I don’t know, is my happiness urgent to you?” Tony butts back, but he picks up his burger and sits back down on his stool.
“We need to get you one of those pimple-popping games,” Steve says. “The ones they make for perverted minds like yours.”
“Eh,” Tony says around a mouthful of Big Mac. “You have to refill those after every pop. It’s not worth it.”
“Oh, as opposed to my face, which is self-filling?” Steve asks dryly.
“Until you listen to me and start using my face wash, yes,” Tony says. “Of course, I could make my own pimple-popping tool, that is self-filling - Jarvis, put that on the list, won’t you, next time I’m drunk and feeling crafty, I’ll look at it.”
“Noted, sir,” Jarvis says smoothly.
“And in the meantime,” Tony says, swaying to the right so he’s half leaning against Steve. “I have my own personal pimple board to mess with. Speaking of, have you done a pore strip recently? You’ve got a lot of blackheads on your nose, there. I promise it won’t hurt.”
“Maybe I should try that face cream after all,” Steve grumbles, but when Tony goes to scratch a dead skin flake off Steve’s cheek, he just sighs and lets him.
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timeasmymeasure
domestic ficlet
Date: 2020-01-12 02:45 am (UTC)They’re halfway through what passes as a date, these days - McDonald’s takeout, scarfed down after a long day of meetings - when Tony says, “Ooh, you’ve got a huge pimple.” He sets down his burger, licks grease off of his thumb, and reaches forward. “Let me just -“
But Steve ducks away before he can touch. “Tony, no,” he complains. “We’re eating.”
“Aw, come on, please?” Tony doesn’t wait for Steve’s assent, getting his thumbs on either side of the pimple on Steve’s jaw and squeezing. Steve huffs but doesn’t stop him, waiting impatiently as Tony squeezes at his zit.
“Ow,” he says, then, “Ow,” again, more pointedly, as the pain spikes. Tony frowns, but he drops his hands, and the sharp sting drops to an ache.
“It’s really stuck in there,” he says. “I should go get my lancing kit.”
“Oh, god. Is it really that urgent?”
“I don’t know, is my happiness urgent to you?” Tony butts back, but he picks up his burger and sits back down on his stool.
“We need to get you one of those pimple-popping games,” Steve says. “The ones they make for perverted minds like yours.”
“Eh,” Tony says around a mouthful of Big Mac. “You have to refill those after every pop. It’s not worth it.”
“Oh, as opposed to my face, which is self-filling?” Steve asks dryly.
“Until you listen to me and start using my face wash, yes,” Tony says. “Of course, I could make my own pimple-popping tool, that is self-filling - Jarvis, put that on the list, won’t you, next time I’m drunk and feeling crafty, I’ll look at it.”
“Noted, sir,” Jarvis says smoothly.
“And in the meantime,” Tony says, swaying to the right so he’s half leaning against Steve. “I have my own personal pimple board to mess with. Speaking of, have you done a pore strip recently? You’ve got a lot of blackheads on your nose, there. I promise it won’t hurt.”
“Maybe I should try that face cream after all,” Steve grumbles, but when Tony goes to scratch a dead skin flake off Steve’s cheek, he just sighs and lets him.
The things he does for love.