backin_theworld | une image d'entre vous

une image d'entre vous - rp for myheartglows

In Steve's head, this wasn't the first time he'd ask Tony to pose for him, in fact it had to have been the twentieth time, but he had yet to actually ask him. In person. For real.

One particular evening, Steve was down in the workshop, sitting in the middle on the couch with his sketchbook in his lap doodling away the things around. First Dummy, then the vector print of Iron Man's head mounted on the wall, and finally a rough sketch of Tony standing with his back to him working on something complicated.

He looked up, looked back down, cleared his throat and went for it.

"You should let me draw you." he brought up nonchalantly.

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Sparks flew out to either of Tony's sides as he hunched over the work table, a soldering iron in one hand. He almost didn't hear Steve at all between those and his own concentration till Steve's words drifted through his mind like an afterthought. Once he finished touching up a wire to the board, he leaned back to peer over his shoulder and then pushed the safety goggles up into his hair to better see.

"Don't you already draw me?" he said. Tony swore that figure on the page was meant to be him, but it was hard to see at this angle.

Without looking up, he could almost see the look on Tony's face. That perfect mix of subdued curiosity and interest, completely missing the underlying, and blatantly obvious hint in the question.

"I mean pose." Steve replied, then looked up a moment later to watch that sink in on the other man's face. "On the couch."

It sank in all right: that light in Tony's eyes and a slowly rising brow that was soon joined by the lifting corner of his mouth.

"Why, Captain Rogers," he said with some Victorian flourish, hand to his heartlight, "are you asking to draw me like one of your French girls? I feel so scandalized."

Steve couldn't resist grinning. Having been with him as long as he had, he found his partner's sarcasm quite amusing for the most part. With a roll of his eyes, and a shake of his head he got to his feet and cleared the distance between them.

"Not exactly, but if you want to put on one of those wide brimmed hats and a sparkly necklace, I've learned there isn't much I can do to stop you." A pause. "I'm being serious though."

"So am I." Despite Tony's flippancy, he was setting down the soldering iron and yanking off his gloves. He also squinted. "And who showed you that movie? Was it Pepper? Natasha? I think she has a secret thing for DiCaprio."

Steve smiled playfully. Though he'd love to hold off on answering, Cap was known first and foremost for his honesty, which made planning any kind of surprise for Tony pretty much impossible.

"You really think Natasha has the patience to sit through a three hour movie about a boat sinking?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"A three-hour romance about a boat sinking," Tony pointed out, complete with a raised finger, as he slipped off the goggles that left some hair lying the opposite way. "Don't underestimate a lady's inclination for kissy good times, no matter the fangs they have."

Feigning a smile, Steve shook his head. "I don't know, she doesn't seem like the type to go for that sort of thing. But, maybe you know her better than I do." he shrugged, and got up from the couch to walk over to the bench where Tony still was, standing across from him.

"It depends on the face she's wearing that day. But enough about her."

Tony turned to Steve, arms up and open, presenting himself in all his oil-stained tank top and trousers glory. You wanted do this now, right? You couldn't just bring up an idea and expect Tony to wait on it. Juggling between ideas was how his brain had been wired, especially if it meant posing while Steve studied the lines of his body.

"Where d'you want me?"

An eyebrow went up. "Couch." he motioned towards it, then led the way, glancing at the light above to make sure he had enough of it from where the piece of furniture was positioned.

Lowering into the chair across from it, Steve flipped open his sketchbook and opened to a brand new page.

Tony plopped down onto the couch with a squeak of the leather cushions, and then watched Steve with his head tilted down: a look of expectation that Steve would do something. Make it worth Tony's while. Sure, he posed for the cameras all the time--made it onto People magazine's cover again last month with the clean-energy technology--but this was meant to be more intimate, right? He expected something a little more hands-on.

"... Well?"

Steve glanced up, and judging from the way he slowly lowered the sketchbook to his lap, it was clear the artist was expecting to see his subject looking a little... different. He probably should have specified, but with all the talk about Titanic, he assumed maybe Tony would get it.

"Maybe take your shirt off." he gestured with the end of his pencil, then moments later he moved it down. "And your pants."

"Does the model have to do everything himself?"

Smirking, Tony crossed his arms and peeled off his shirt, dropping it to the floor once he stood and, in one shove, removed both his trousers and the red g-string underneath.

"Where did you get those?" Steve questioned, raising an eyebrow over the top of the coiled book. The true test now was going to be staying focused. Which was already proving difficult.

And he hadn't even started drawing yet.

"Um, maybe lie on the couch," he instructed, but lifted to his feet and moved to where Tony was so he could position his arm and leg.

Smug still, Tony sat himself back down, making sure their eyes were locked. The couch was cool against his bare ass and under-thighs, but the material was top-notch and didn't stick to his skin. "If I were you, I'd be more interested in asking why," he said. But he swung his legs up as instructed, lying down, and then allowed Steve to move his body as he wished; and if, once Steve was gently touching his thighs to move them into place, Tony raised his hips into those hands just a little, it was only because he needed to shift to become comfortable.

Tony's reply only caused the good Captain to grin even though his attention seemed to be on the position he wanted his model to be in. One hand grabbed his wrist gently, slowly raising it up to place behind his head. "I like them." he nodded, making eye contact for a brief moment.

As soon as the upper half was set, he smoothed a hand down Tony's side, along the top of his leg and dropped to the inside of his knee to bend it slightly up.

When he was finished, he moved back up to hover, one hand on the back of the couch and the other balanced on the edge of the bottom cushion. "Don't move." he told him, and gave him a quick kiss before moving back to his seat.

"Some parts of me can't help but to move," Tony lightheartedly warned with a quirked eyebrow, but the parts he controlled stayed in their assigned positions, a pillow behind his head for comfort.

"Just try, okay?" Steve looked at him almost pained, before tearing his eyes away to start the rough sketch. Focusing got easier as time wore on, his steady hand putting in every detail from the way the shadows fell to the way Tony's arc reflected off the inside of his arm.

"Almost done." he announced without looking up.

Tony tried, he really did, even if he made at first a comment on how he felt like he was posing for a Playgirl spread and asked if Steve thought Fury would enjoy that kind of publicity. But as Steve focused more and more on sweeping that pencil across the page, Tony fell into silence as well with the whisper of the pencil as the only sound between them.

For a while Tony just watched him. He recognized that determined look from underneath Steve's brow as he took in every detail available, same as when he, as Captain America, was on the battlefield formulating strategies. But then Tony's mind broke off into different directions because keeping his mind still was next to impossible. The responsibilities as CEO Pepper had been drilling him about lately; he was meant to do something tomorrow. The argument with Fury about whether the Quinjets were SHIELD or Stark property (clearly Stark property). The new prototype for the armor delivery system -- he could see the pieces of this one in the darkness of his closed eyelids. In fact, that was a great idea. He shut his eyes to visualize it. Here he was lying naked on the couch which warmed beneath his skin. Couldn't hurt to shut his eyes for just a bit, right?

By the time Steve spoke, Tony had drifted off into a quiet sleep. He had been up for an undetermined amount of time, likely over twenty-four hours, and what sleep he had been getting, since Steve had stared sharing it, was sometimes plagued by unrest and nightmares.

It was the absence of an answer (or some clever, sarcastic retort about how long it took) that forced Steve to finally look up and see Tony asleep. Lowering the book down to his lap, he simply watched the man across from him.

He looked peaceful, serene; the way his lashes lay soft and still on his lower lids still. His breathing was even, and his limbs relaxed. This was the first time he had seen Tony like this, and the thought of waking him seemed cruel.

But, he couldn't stay down there all night, not when he wasn't wearing anything. So, Steve moved to kneel beside the couch, and dragged a finger along his hip.

"Tony?" he practically whispered, not wanting him to startle awake.

Tony's face pinched together as he was pulled out of his light sleep. His eyes peeled open, shut against the sudden light, but slowly, the touch of Steve's finger against his nude hip nudged him out of it. He groaned and arched his back until something in his lower spine popped.

"Wha' time s'it?"

His hand continued up the ridge of his thigh before slowly making its way back to the spot it started. His skin was warm despite the cool air in the shop.

"A little after one." he told him, giving him a small smile. "Come on, let's go to bed."

If possible, Tony sunk even more into the couch. "I dunno 'bout you, but I'm pretty damned comfortable where I am."

"Then move back some." he urged, pressing him to slide his body to the back of the couch.

Tony grumbled and unconsciously curled into the back of the couch, sleep still dogging him. "You can't come onto this couch unless you're naked. This's my naked couch."

une image d'entre vous - rp for myheartglows

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