Apartment Above Stark Industries, Sunday Evening

[imafuturist]

Tony had promised date night. And Tony did not like breaking promises, so he was going to make a meal under JARVIS' supervision to keep from getting distracted by fixing the oven to make it more powerful again.

And hopefully spaghetti and meatballs was simple enough that he couldn't completely screw it up.

Okay, so some of the meatballs were a little oddly shaped and some of them had stuck to the pan when he'd browned them off, but it was still edible! And that was the important thing. That and having a truly massive amount of noodles to work against a super soldier metabolism.

"Didn't set off the smoke detector at all this time," he said proudly.

"A red letter day, sir."

JARVIS was a cruel, cruel AI.

[For that guy!]

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[heroic_jawline]

"Something smells great in here," Steve said, coming back into the apartment with a moderately priced bottle of red.

[imafuturist]

"And not burned," Tony said brightly, tilting his head for a kiss on the cheek. Shut up, he loved the domesticity.

[heroic_jawline]

"This is the first batch?" Steve teased. "I'm very impressed."

[imafuturist]

"I will kick you out." He would never.

[heroic_jawline]

"No you won't," Steve said, kissing his other cheek.

[imafuturist]

"I could." In another, terrible universe.

He said this even as he smiled and hooked an arm around Steve's waist.

[heroic_jawline]

"You could," Steve said, "but you won't, and not just because the meatballs need to be turned again."

[imafuturist]

"Shit!" He knew he forgot something. "You're in charge of the noodles."

Because if there was one thing Steve could be depended on, it was boiling things.

[heroic_jawline]

"I'm good at noodles," Steve boasted.

Making ramen counted, right?

[imafuturist]

Well, they could say it counted. As long as it wasn't cooked in a microwave.

Tony shot him a smile, ducking his head and laughing quietly as he scraped at the pan to get one meatball unstuck. "We'll see, won't we?"

[heroic_jawline]

"I have faith in us," Steve said, smiling. "Did you make sauce too?"

[imafuturist]

"I did," he said proudly.

JARVIS helped a lot.

[heroic_jawline]

Steve looked earnestly proud of him, too. "Good job!"

[imafuturist]

"Try it?" Tony offered, snagging a spoon for him to taste. He had such a hopeful look for something so basic.

[heroic_jawline]

Tony was adorable, and Steve took a taste and made appreciative yummy noises.

Which, let's be honest, he would've done if it had been on fire.

[imafuturist]

Which was why Tony's expression melted into something deeply fond and he smiled almost shyly at Steve. "You're being nice."

Even if he was, it was still pretty amazing.

[heroic_jawline]

Steve kissed him quickly. "You make good sauce, sweetheart."

[imafuturist]

"You're just sick of takeout," Tony replied, leaning in to kiss him.

[heroic_jawline]

"I am not," Steve said. "I'm just appreciatin' your focus."

[imafuturist]

"On keeping you fed," he teased with one more kiss. "My mother never really cooked, to be honest. So this is kind of guess work."

[heroic_jawline]

"It takes like spaghetti sauce, so good job," Steve said, grinning proudly.

[imafuturist]

"Oh, darling. You know just how to woo me," Tony replied, giving him a playful shove. "Next time I'll just buy a jar and make my maternal ancestry cry."

[heroic_jawline]

"I would probably not be able to tell," Steve said honestly.

[imafuturist]

"Bite your tongue!" Tony gasped with theatrically exaggerated shock.

[heroic_jawline]

Steve laughed and went over to check the pasta so he didn't mess up his part of the dinner. "Sweet Lord, Tony, how many boxes of noodles is this?" he asked, staring into the pot.