Tony woke to an empty bed and the smell of something good floating in the air. It left his stomach rumbling and he wasn’t quite sure how many hours it had been since dinner with Steve--though he was sure he’d gotten more than just a bite in bed with the amazing man, mmm. He rolled from the bed and searched for his robe, abandoning his search after a few minutes for a fresh pair of black silk boxers from his dresser.
The smell, a mixture of sweet and savory spices, lead Tony to the obvious location of his kitchen. However, he wasn’t exactly ready for the sight as he rounded the corner--Steve. Dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a messy apron, hands clad with potholder mittens, and a few flour smudges on his face.
“Barefoot and in kitchen? I think I like that.”
Steve looked up from peaking in the oven and smiled, a flush coloring his face underneath the flour. “If I’m pregnant, we’ve got a problem.”
“I would say that stranger things have happened, but I really don’t want to press our luck,” Tony said, stepping in closer to Steve. “By the way, we’re on vacation. Why aren’t you in bed? We’re missing out on prime morning sex time.”
A blush bloomed anew on Steve’s face. “Since you came to bed late last night after tinkering around in your shop, I figured I’d have time this morning to go for a run and knock out my PT... and then I thought I should make some breakfast, surprise you in bed.”
“But you never made it to bed, did you?” Tony smirked.
“Uh, no. I have chili simmering for dinner and an apple pie is in the oven.”
Tony blinked. “An apple pie?”
Steve nodded and pulled open the door to the oven just enough for Tony to peek in. The smell of apples and cinnamon hit him in the face with a waft of heat.
“Did you get bored?”
“Maybe?” Steve smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You cook, clean, and darn socks,” Tony smirked. “Not only are you America’s top super soldier, you’re also the ideal American house wife.”
“If you want any of these waffles, you might want to shut up and kiss the cook.”