To set eyes again upon your heart
“This is your fault, you know.”
“My fault!” Steve Rogers growls at the statement while trying to turn, his elbow connecting with the wall he was pressed against for his troubles. He actually growls, he never growls, he’s an even-tempered man, a superhero, a soldier, he has excellent control and yet here he was losing said control spectacularly at the accusation that his current predicament was his fault.
It wasn’t.
If it was anyone’s fault that he was presently trapped in a tiny, cramped, metal space with the most annoying man he’d ever met, it was said man’s fault.
“Stark, your A.I. locked us in this-this box for whatever reason. Your A.I. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s yours, you made Jarvis and the other robots, who are all in cahoots!”
“Nothing’s been the same since New York.”
“Steve, you don’t have to stay down here with me if you don’t want to. It’s got to be boring just sitting there.”
“I like spending time with you Tony, no matter what you’re doing. Besides, I want to finish this drawing and you’re the subject I’m studying. Unless you want to take a break of course.”
“Well, I suppose I could take a few minutes off - if those minutes in question are used wisely. And I am talking about se-“
“Tony!”
