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“You sure know how to throw a party, Tony.”
Tony started, glancing around the room before his eyes fell on Steve leaning against the confetti-covered sofa arm. It surprised him that Steve was still up. He’d been sure everyone was in bed by now.
Tony gave a tired grin and saluted as poorly as he could manage. “Thanks, Cap. It’s kinda my modus operandi. And, you know, if you’re not gonna have a party on New Years, when can you have it?”
Steve shrugged. “I enjoyed myself. Really. And I’m not usually one for parties.”
It was on the tip of Tony’s tongue to say something scathing, Of course, Capsicle, you haven’t had any fun since the 1940’s. But he let the moment pass, and instead offered, “I’m glad you had a good night.” This was growth, right? Maturity, or something? Tony would have to ask Rhodey later.
Steve’s smile was blinding, so Tony figured he must have gotten something right. “Say,” Steve murmured, walking over to where Tony had been picking up plastic champagne glasses, “Need any help with cleanup?”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself—” Tony started, but Steve was already kneeling down to help clean.
“It’s no trouble, Tony. Many hands make light work.”
“Sure, but I’m a billionaire. I can pay people to do this kinda stuff.”
Steve shot him a sardonic smile. “Then why were you cleaning up your own tower without any help?”
Tony relaxed into the teasing. Teasing, he could do. “I was waiting for some poor sap to come along and get roped into helping me,” he snarked back, joining Steve on his knees to collect more of the mess.
Steve turned to look him in the eye, and Tony realized they were so close together when his breath moved Steve’s hair. He was lost in those deep blue eyes, he was staring, he knew it. He knew Steve wasn’t his to look at, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’ll always want to help you, Tony,” Steve confessed.
Tony swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Steve.”
Steve didn’t turn back to his task. Tony, spellbound, kept staring. He was grateful when Steve broke the silence.
“You know, you’re supposed to have someone to kiss on New Year’s Day,” he said, apropos of nothing. “I didn’t see you looking for anyone close to the countdown.”
Tony scoffed, finally tearing his eyes away and back to the discarded paper noisemaker in his hands. “No one to kiss on New Year’s. Yeah, well, some things change. Guess I’m not so much of a playboy anymore.”
A soft hand caught his chin and lifted his gaze back up. Steve’s eyes were sparkling in the low light, his eyes trained on Tony’s. “It’s still New Year’s,” he murmured, leaning in closer.
Tony couldn’t move, but he was so grateful when Steve closed the final gap and pressed his lips to Tony’s. They kissed, and even though it was well past midnight, it was still perfect.