Moar Steve/Tony Semaphore Fanarts >.>
Excerpt posted with permission from the end of http://archiveofourown.org/works/314102?page=1&view_full_work=true#comments -
Two days later, when he’s alone in his workshop, Tony has Jarvis sort through Steve’s pictures and bring up the one he wants, the one he knows Steve was talking about.
It’s a couple weeks old, from the morning Steve learned how to take intentional self-portraits with his phone, rather than accidental ones. The two of them are sitting up in bed at Steve’s place, bare shoulders against the plain wooden headboard. They’re off-center and a little crooked in the picture, as if they’re in the process of slowly sliding out of the frame. Tony’s clutching a cup of coffee like a life preserver and has a bruise on his cheekbone; Steve’s got the last remnants of what was a really nasty gash on this forehead. They both have spectacular cases of bedhead.
Tony recalls he’d been thinking, at that moment, that it was a big mistake to explain the art of cellphone self-portraiture to Steve, or that he should have at least waited until he was more than half-awake. In the picture, Tony is grimacing crankily, but unable to completely hide his smile, like a cat that doesn’t want to like to be petted, but can’t help itself. Steve’s in profile, forehead pressed to Tony’s temple, eyes closed, and he’s smiling, too. Despite the bumps and scrapes, they both look happy.
"That’s the one, Jarvis," Tony says. "Attach it to my number for him."
After a second he adds, “And send it to my phone.”

Moar Steve/Tony Semaphore Fanarts >.>

Excerpt posted with permission from the end of http://archiveofourown.org/works/314102?page=1&view_full_work=true#comments -

Two days later, when he’s alone in his workshop, Tony has Jarvis sort through Steve’s pictures and bring up the one he wants, the one he knows Steve was talking about.

It’s a couple weeks old, from the morning Steve learned how to take intentional self-portraits with his phone, rather than accidental ones. The two of them are sitting up in bed at Steve’s place, bare shoulders against the plain wooden headboard. They’re off-center and a little crooked in the picture, as if they’re in the process of slowly sliding out of the frame. Tony’s clutching a cup of coffee like a life preserver and has a bruise on his cheekbone; Steve’s got the last remnants of what was a really nasty gash on this forehead. They both have spectacular cases of bedhead.

Tony recalls he’d been thinking, at that moment, that it was a big mistake to explain the art of cellphone self-portraiture to Steve, or that he should have at least waited until he was more than half-awake. In the picture, Tony is grimacing crankily, but unable to completely hide his smile, like a cat that doesn’t want to like to be petted, but can’t help itself. Steve’s in profile, forehead pressed to Tony’s temple, eyes closed, and he’s smiling, too. Despite the bumps and scrapes, they both look happy.

"That’s the one, Jarvis," Tony says. "Attach it to my number for him."

After a second he adds, “And send it to my phone.”

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    Oh my god. I loved this fanfic so damn much. And the art is amazing!
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    devildoll :
  18. devildoll reblogged this from deprecari and added:
    Oh my God. Look at them! LOOK AT THEM. Perfect.
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