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I swear it's just this once. (not)

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Tony has been working in his workshop for what feels like a year. His stomach growls at him as he slumps over his filthy workstation, covered in grease from the latest version of the machinations in the knees of the Iron Man suit. They'd been sticking slightly more than was comfortable lately. He moaned and reached for where he last put his iron man hoody. He loved that thing; it's garish red and gold colours made Steve look at him like he was a crazy two year old. Always amusing, that.

 

And promptly fell of his stool when it wasn't there on the desk behind him where he left it. That was weird. Even when he was malnourished and sleep deprived (which was embarrassingly normal) (actually no he didn't even care) he almost always knew where he left shit. His workplace would be a disaster if he just left stuff everywhere. Granted he was nowhere NEAR where Bruciebear was on the cleanliness factor and he still regularly got the 'eyebrows of disappointment' from Stevie, but hey, Tony knew where his things where like, 98% of the time. Which was good enough for him.

 

He crawled up off the floor and squinted his bruised eyes up at the lights, then at the counter.

 

But the hoody wasn't where it was supposed to be. Which meant he could either go upstairs and get his damn coffee or he could spend like five minutes looking. Ew. After a cursory glance over the room, which revealed that the only obvious gold and red things in the room where actually! iron man stuff, Tony groaned and turned to trudge up the stairs in just the black wife beater he had like a thousand of.

 

And then quickly turned around as soon as he saw Steve in the kitchen. "Tony! Wait!" Tony paused, tensing his shoulders (dammit that was usually hidden underneath the hoody) as Steve caught up to him. "Yes Stevie dear?"

"Tony, where have you been? I haven't seen you in three days. I-WE missed you." Steve's face flushed at the slip-up he'd nearly made. "I'm working! On Avengers stuff! I have to make you a new suit right? You wanted that right!" Tony kept edging away a little bit.

"Tony I'm not Barton. Bribing isn't gonna work on me. Jarvis? Have you been sleeping?" Tony cringed. "Of course I have Steve." Steve frowned (eyebrows of disappointment) (Ha! Told you so). "How about eating? Jarvis?"

 

"Wait! Hold on Jarvie!" But the dulcet tones of a very smug Jarvis ran him over. "Sir has not slept for over 79 hours and has eaten nothing but a smoothie and coffee for the same amount of time." Tony groaned, facepalming. "Damnit Jarvis! Traitor. I should box you up and..." Tony trailed off as Steve grabbed his shoulders and steered him towards the kitchen while he ranted to Jarvis about how awful the community college he was headed to was. "Come on Tony. Let's get you some food and get you into bed." Tony scowled. "I don't need food!" Tony's stomach gave another loud growl. He'd already almost forgotten about the missing hoody when he walked into the kitchen and stumbled a bit. (Yeah, he probably would have fallen over without Steve.) ( Shh.)

 

"Jeez, Tony, maybe you're a little worse than usual." Natasha smirked at him over a mug of tea, looking cozy in a hoody. A certain gold and red hoody. Tony tried to stop but Steve pushed him onto a stool at the counter. Next to Natasha. Who was wearing his damn hoody, which had been right behind him last he saw it. She must've sneaked into his workshop without him noticing. How? Now that was another matter. She could have gone through the air ducts, but that was not really Nat's style, but a Hawkeye thing. But the door wasn't silent and Jarvis ought to have warned him. Ah. Jarvis.

 

"How?..." Tony paused. Natasha raised a perfect eyebrow at him and Tony turned to pay attention to the reheated stew Steve had handed him, figuring that having to eat leftovers (Really Steve?!) was a safer and more important argument than why and how Natasha had his hoody. And anyways, what the hell. It was worn down to the perfect comfy level (and Nat more than deserved it) (Don't tell anyone he thought that). Tony could always just buy another one.

"Steve! I am a billionaire! I do not have to eat moldy leftovers! NO!"