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.
----------------
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.
----------------
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.
----------------
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.
Tony placed the mugs of lavender tea on the table, managing not to spill any. The breakfast smelt heavenly, but he wasn't sure if he had the energy to reach for a piece yet. He'd never liked mornings. They were always a haze of coffee and madness. Everything he had to do that day was stacked in his mind like the nine circles of hell. Mornings felt like hurling yourself off a cliff into the ocean, hoping that you didn't land on rocks, or an outcropfrom the cliff, and that you landed without breaking any bones as you hit the water's surface.
---------------
The two were in silence, unsure of how to start a conversation after the previous day. It was a lot to take in. They'd gone from strangers to soulmates in a few hours, completely by accident.
It wasn't an awkward silence though. It was the sort where you wanted to talk, but did know how, and neither did the other person, so there was an unspoken, mutual agreement not to.
Tony finished his tea quickly, wishing for something stronger to chase away the morning wooziness. His French toast was lying half eaten on his plate with the maple syrup painted across it like some meaningless modern art, Tony thought. The 'artist' had randomly sprayed the canvas with paint and then spun some creative, yet completely fantastic narrative about it to impress people and inspire deep thought. They weren't so much artists as philosophers. My point is, it's too early for this much sugar.
Stephen, meanwhile, was finishing his second slice. It's never too early for sugar. "Are you going to eat that?" He asked, gesturing to Tony's plate.
"Uhhh. Don't get me wrong, it's really good, it's just kinda early for sugar."
"Huh, I thought you'd have more of a sweet tooth," Stephen replied.
"And after the lavender tea, I thought you'd be the fancy-granola-for-breakfast type," Tony grinned back, "you sure you can't dig out some coffee?"
"Not useless you want to go to the Nero down the road," Stephen replied as he pulled Tony's half finished toast towards himself, "I do, however, have your fancy-granola-for-breakfast in the cupboard with the tea. It's Wong's though, so be discrete."
Tony slunk up from the table to get the granola and make a second mug of tea. "Where do you wanna go today?" he questioned, "and where's the milk?"
"The fridge is the cupboard next to the door, and I don't know. I'd recommend somewhere not-sciency though, because much as I enjoy nitpicking, I'd like to spend the day focused on you, rather than scientific inaccuracies."
"So not the planetarium then..."
"No."
The kitchen door squeaked open and a voice rippled through the stillness of the room. "Who's this one and why is he eating my cereal."
Wong.
Tony reflexively brought the bowl fractionally closer to himself. Stephen rolled his eyes and continued eating. Or at least, he did until his chair was kicked as Wong walked past to put on the kettle.
"This is Tony, and he's eating the cereal because he doesn't like sweet things in the mornings."
Wong grunted and finished pouring his tea. He left the room swiftly, taking the box of granola with him.
"What a ray of sunshine," Tony smirked.
"You're one to talk."
Tony ignored that. "How about the aquarium. Never been there either, and I know nothing about marine biology."
"Yeah, we could. It's only a 20 minute walk away."
Tony finished the granola in record speed, "sounds like a plan."
----------------
"You should wear skinny jeans more often," Stephen smirked as they left the sanctum.
Tony turned to poke Stephen in the ribs, "eyes forward, soldier."
"Never," Stephen replied, giving a smug smile as he pulled Tony closer, "you know you love the attention."
"Shut up," Tony said grinning, he wasn't going to complain. Stephen's Pink Floyd t-shirt was suprisingly comfortable and the jeans, while tighter than he was used to (and slightly too long) were worn and soft.
His clothes from yesterday had been put in the washing machine because according to Stephen, "you can't wear the same clothed 2 days in a row." In reality, Stephen thought Tony would look adorable in his Pink Floyd t-shirt, and Tony had thought, I want that Pink Floyd t-shirt, so both had silently agreed to go with Stephen's excuse.
There was a breeze from the Thames swishing in over Westminster Bridge and it ruffled Stephen's hair. Tony had to resist the urge to brush it out of his eyes, and content himself with watching Stephen sweep a hand lightly through it instead.
Stephen caught his eye as Tony was watching and smiled. Tony leaned closer, though he was careful to miss Stephen's hand.
"You can hold my hand if you want," Stephen said nervously.
"I don't want to hurt you," Tony admitted, "I know it can't be comfy if you've got constant pressure on them."
"I can ease it with magic,"
"Sure?"
In reply Stephen offered his hand. When Tony took it it was warmer than usual and had a vague glow. So that's why he doesn't do it all the time.
----------------
There was almost no one else in the aquarium; much like yesterday. The two had the whole place to explore with no queues and no one crowding the tanks.
Stephen was particularly thankful for this, because it meant he could cross the shark walk in 3 seconds flat. He hated getting stuck in the middle of the tunnel with those big toothy creature grinning up at him, thinking "well, I could do with some lunch right about now."
Tony was also particularly thankful for the lack of people, because it meant he could stand in the centre of the shark walk for as long a he wanted. He could laugh at the big toothy creatures staring up at him, knowing they were thinking "damn that glass between me and my lunch."
Tony was currently watching the sharks swim beneath his feet, the grin of glee on his own face mirroring the ones on the sharks'. Stephen wasn't sure if it was endearing or scary. He was rooted to the spot on the other side of the tunnel having half-sprinted to the other side. Visions of cracks in the glass were beginning to cross the gap in his mind between imagination and reality.
"Hey, watch this one," Tony called to Stephen, "it's just circling around me. You can see the paterns on its skin and everything." He crouched down to press one hand to the glass floor. "Stephen?"
"Yeah - I'm happy here,"
"You'll miss the sharks..."
"I know."
At this Tony turned to look at Stephen and noticed his face was slightly paler than normal. "You wanna go to the next exhibit?"
Stephen nodded. Tony got up and took Stephen's arm gently. "If you don't like something just tell me," he said softly, leading him to the next exhibit.
----------------
The octopi were much better. They just kind of sat there, looking balefully out of their tanks as Tony and Stephen passed. The jellyfish were the best though, or at least they were in Stephen's opinion.
The room they were in was almost completely dark. The only light was from the tiny cats-eyes lights in the floor and a bright rectangle that was the doorway. The jellyfish glowed in their tanks, swaying and gliding effortlessly through the water. They were big, colourful blobs that floated harmlessly in their little bowls. Sure, some of them were extremely posionous and all, but it's not like they could escape.
"I don't understand the appeal," Tony said suddenly from behind Stephen.
Stephen turned from the jellyfish tanks to look at him quizzically. "Why?"
"Well, they're just big colourful blobs. They don't do anything."
"That is the appeal," Stephen replied with a laugh. "They're peaceful little blobs, they can't escape, and they're pretty to look at."
"But you have me - am I not pretty to look at?" Tony replied with a smirk.
In response, Stephen gave him a playful raised eyebrow, before returning to watch the jellyfish. Tony walked up quietly beside him and wrapped an arm around Stephen, leaning his head on Stephen's shoulder. Stephen pulled him closer and placed a kiss on his head.
"Of course you're pretty to look at," he whispered with a smile, "but you're so much more."
----------------
The fresh water exhibits were Tony's favourites. The alligators would swim lazily by and sunbath on the logs in their tanks. They looked dangerously peaceful: they minded their own business, you minded yours, and woe betide the person who breaks the contract. The piranhas looked pretty harmless too. They milled about behind their glass, their little red fins flapping about. They were fun to watch.
Stephen disagreed with this perspective. He stood in the enterance to the alligator exhibit, trying to look casual, but a nervous wreck to the discerning eye. He could not bring himself to cross the room. His rational mind was telling him everything was fine, but his feet still refused to move. Fear shot through him, starting at his heart and moving through the centre of him like he was being split open. God damn adrenalin.
He leant against the wall, focusing on Tony. It kept him marginally sane. The back of Tony's head with his soft brown hair and the familiar jacket collar turned up. Arms easily at his side and stance open. Stephen's eyes trailed down Tony's back, following the crease lines of the jacket to his sides... FUCk that's an eye. I need to get out of here. An alligator passed by Tony, grinning as though it could sense Stephen's fear.
"Hey, come look at this guy," Tony's voice cut through the adrenalin haze that passed for Stephen's mind, "the teeth are huge!" Turning he saw Stephen tipped against the wall. His arm was pressed into it a little too much for comfort and his right leg was bouncing.
"Hey, earth to Stephen, you ok?"
Stephen blinked his eyes a bit too rapidly to be natural, before snapping out of the fog in his mind. "Yeah, I'm fine. Great even."
"Do you want to leave?"
"Yes."
"Honey, you have to tell me these things," Tony said, pulling a concerned expression.
"You were having fun," Stephen protested.
"Yes, but you weren't," Tony took Stephen's hand gently, rubbing his thumb over the scars in a soothing manor, and lead him back the way they came.
----------------
"Where do you wanna go for lunch?" Stephen asked after they were out. The sun was out, but the wind was chilly and he could feel himself shivering a bit.
"We could go back to my place - it's not far from here and I have food. I hope," Tony muttered the last part to himself.
"Really - you should buy me dinner before taking me home - be a gentleman," Stephen teased.
"I will make you peal the potatoes if you keept his up," Tony quipped, before tugging Stephen along the pavement beside the river.
London spanned out infront of them, all high-rise buildings and cranes - little lights blinking on top. It was early afternoon and the sun was busy disappearing behind a cloud, as though it had to change into the sun set it would later create, like and evening gown. Boats chugged up and down the murky water, creating ripples that crisscrossed the surface - wrinkles in the fabric it was made of. The wind blew down the river like an amature skater: swift and fast, but stumbling here and there as it corrected it's stance.
The walk back to Tony's apartment was longer than he remembered. Probably because he'd been lost in both exciting and terrifying thoughts the last time he'd walked the route. When they finally got there, Tony fumbled with the keypad into the building, and they took the lift up to the top floor.
It was all clean white paint and brick - designed so it could be hosed down when need be. It wasn't tasteful, but it wasn't quite tacky either; somewhere in between. Tony'd never really given it thought, though. He unlocked the door, silently thanking that he hadn't been bothered to unpack - the place would look a tip otherwise.
----------------
"Tony... You've got 3 bottles of beer, two potatoes and a bowl of fake fruit in here. I'm not seeing the alleged food," Stephen called from the kitchen as Tony slung their jackets over the back of an armchair.
"Uhhhh, did you check the fridge?" Tony asked hopefully.
"Yes. I'm looking in the fridge. And I can not understand why the bowl of fake fruit is in there too," Stephen replied. Tony could practically hear Stephen's suppressed smile.
"We could order in," he said sheepishly, entering the kitchen. It was small and modern and completely devoid of colour, unless you counted the black surface of the induction hob and the oven below it. Stephen was standing with the fridge open, a concerned and comical look on his face.
"You said you had food."
"Technically, that's correct," Tony came back.
"Ah yes, polystyrene oranges for lunch. Yum."
Tony gave Stephen a withering look. "I'll order in."
Stephen turned to him with folded arms. "You are literally a genius. You knew you had no food, yet you invited me back here..."
It wasn't phrased as a question, but Stephen clearly expected an answer.
Tony turned back, phone in hand as he dialed the number of the Chinese take-out down the street. "I wanted to go somewhere without people," he stated simply, "the aquarium was nice, but like you said, I'd rather spend the day getting to know you, and you were clearly not having fun with those gators." He looked up from the phone to give Stephen a smirk with the last part.
Stephen's face broke into a grin at this. "You sop," he said, flopping down on the sofa.
"Hey, I'm renting this place."
"Are you implying I'm heavy?" Stephen joked.
"I'm implying that I want my safety deposit back - get your feet off the arm."
The take-away place picked up at this point, and Tony turned his back to place their order. Stephen silently put his feet back up on the arm of the chair.
----------------
Hanging up the phone, Tony dragged his feet across the room to the sofa. Stephen didn't move. With a deep sigh, Tony climbed up on the sofa, pressed his back against it and wedged himself between Stephen and the back cushions.
"Is this your way of edging me off the sofa?" Stephen asked, smiling gently at Tony, who's head was rested on his chest now.
"Your warm," was the only answer he got.
"You will have to get up when the food comes to the door, you know."
Tony looked up pleadingly at Stephen.
"No, I- I feel like I'm talking to a cat - I'm comfortable too."
"At least pass the remote," Tony grumbled, making vague gestures at the coffee table.
"Am I not interesting enough?" Stephen joked.
"Nah, just want background noise."
The screen flicked on and Homer Simpson appeared in the bath. Bart appeared too holding a chair. Tony relaxed back into Stephen's chest, tracing patterns across Stephen's ribs.
After a few seconds he felt Stephen shudder beneath him and let out a small, breathy laugh. "Ticklish, wizard?" he teased.
Stephen gave a deflated sigh as a response. "No...."
To disprove Stephen's answer, Tony ran his fingers across Stephen ribs again, gaining another shiver and a supressed snort of laughter.
"You're a cruel man, you know," Stephen
"I don't hear you complaining..." Tony smirked as he renewed his tickling efforts with new vigor.
Stephen let out what be felt was a rather undignified giggle. In Tony's eyes, it just made him want to keep going. He slid his fingers under Stephen's shirt - who gave a squwak when cold finger met warm skin.
"Th-th-this is not-t fa-ai-ir," Stephen stuttered between laughs.
The doorbell rang.
Stephen roll off the sofa away from Tony's freezing fingers and landed with a thud on the floor. As Tony loomed over the edge of the sofa above him, he scrambled backwards to get the door.
"Thanks for getting the food," Tony called after him; voice oozing with smugness as he made himself comfortable on the sofa - spread out to take up as much of it as physically possible.
Stephen walked back in to the room carrying the Chinese take out to find Tony sprawled across the entire sofa.
"You are a mean, mean man."
"You made the descision to leave the sofa and get the food. Nothing to do with me."
"You tickled me off the sofa!" Stephen's voice was getting progressively higher and more indignant. "Move, or I will eat in the kitchen, and the food's coming with me."
Pouting, Tony moved to sitting so there were a few spare inches at the opposite end of the sofa. Stephen sighed and put the food down on the coffee table before sitting down across Tony's legs. He pulled the bags over to the far side of the sofa, away from Tony, and rested his feet up on the coffee table.
"Can I have a prawn cracker?" Tony asked hopefully.
Stephen hugged the bag closer to himself mockingly. "Only people who give their soulmates significant space on the sofa get prawn crackers..."
Tony's eyebrows rose into an expression that screamed 'seriously'. He moved up on the sofa though, so Stephen could turn and tangle their legs together under the throw. He caught the bag of crackers thrown to him and Stephen pulled the coffee table closer so Tony could reach the rice and the duck pancakes.
After several minutes of silence, "thanks for this," Tony smiled with a twinge of sadness.
"For what?" Stephen replied, curious.
"For putting up with me... I'm not an easy person to get along with, let alone be soulmates with-"
"Hey, you're a wonderful person, I'm not 'putting up' with you. Granted, I haven't known you long, but I love you: that's the whole point of these things," Stephen said gently, holding up his forearm to illustrate his point with the soulmark that had finally stopped shifting. "This would't have happened if I didn't love you - all of you, flaws included."
He took Tony's hand and leant across the sofa to wipe away the tear trailing down Tony's cheek with a shaky hand. Tony leaned into the touch and smiled softly. "Thank you for the last two days."