Avengers Oneshots

The Science Museum P2 #Ironstrange

A/N Here's a part 2 to the previous chapter. I'm really glad you guys like my writing, I'll try to update more often. If more people could comment with suggestions that would be great too. Hope this chapter is as good at the last. Yes the art above is mine, sorry it's terrible. I drew it bcos Stephen likes jellyfish, and I was bored. Sorry I didn't post sooner, happy new year xx.

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Stephen woke to something warm pressed against him. It took a while for him to adjust to having open eyes, but when he did, he rolled over to find Tony's back pressed against his side. I could get used to this.

Checking the clock on the side table, he found it was 8.34am Friday morning - time for breakfast. He leaned over and pressed soft, fluttery kisses into Tony's neck until he squirmed awake.

Tony looked up at him blearily, before turning back over and pulling the covers over his head. "Nope. Not now," he mumbled, still trying to remember how speech worked.

"Oh come on, it's 8.30," Stephen replied with a smile.

After no response he prodded Tony in the ribs, earning and undignified squawk. Tony turned back over to glare at him. "That was uncalled for."

Stephen kicked the covers off his side of the bed and swung his legs out. "Get up, I'm making breakfast."

A hand flailed behind him before sinking back into the bed. "Come back, you're warm," Tony grumbled into the pillow. After getting no response he peeked up to watch Stephen's back retreating out the bedroom door. Not wanting to be lazy, he tried to follow Stephen out of the room to help. Unfortunately, the duvet didn't agree with this plan.

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Downstairs Stephen was pulling indregients out of the cupboards when he heard a thump above him. Walking out of the kitchen, "Are you ok?" he called up the stairs.

A noise that vaguely resembled 'I'm fine' floated down to him. Grinning, he returned to the French toast that was being soaked in a dish.

A few minutes later Tony wandered in to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. "Can I help?"

"You could make tea," Stephen replied.

"Mhmm, where're the tea bags? And the... things. Mugs," came a half asleep voice.

"The tea bags are in the pot labelled tea bags," Stephen answered - sarcasm laced through the words, "and the mugs are in the cupboard next to the oven."

"Mmf, right."

Stephen went back to frying the bread. There was no sound of water boiling. He would have thought that was odd, but given Tony had passed out again on the table, there was a good reason for it.

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Tony's head shot up as French toast was thumped down next to his ear. "I'm awake," he said in what was probably the least convincing voice possible. If his eye weren't wide open now, it might have been mistaken for sleep-talk.

"Good evening, Mr Sandman," Stephen laughed, "bring us some tea?"

"Sorry," Tony said as he dragged himself off the chair and over to the counter.

Stephen kissed his cheek as he passed. "Take your time, we have all day." A response was grunted in his direction.

As Stephen dug into the toast, the smell of lavender filled the kitchen. He liked mornings. They were fresh and bright and a new start. There was so much you could do with a day, and the morning marked the beginning of that. He also liked breakfast because it gave him an excuse to eat both sweet and savoury foods at the same time. Pancakes and bacon? Fried bread and jam? Yogurt and tuna? Who cares: it's breakfast. Mornings were like a cool, yet pleasant, splash of water that refreshed you after the heated haze of sleep.