The Last to Know
31 Mar 2016
"It's not hate sex," Steve objected. "I don't hate you."
That actually made Tony feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, which he knew was pathetic. He talked louder and faster to cover it. "Angry sex, then, whatever. I should just walk up to you and say 'Hey, Rogers, I was looking to blow off some steam, wanna have loud, animalistic sex all over the Tower?' That's what does it for you?"
A flush was creeping up his neck--God, Tony loved Steve's blushes, the Victorian-maiden-modesty veneer over the built-like-a-brick-shithouse physique drove him wild--but Steve's eyes were steady on his. "Try it and see."
- Part 1 of The Last to Know
21 Apr 2016
“Cosplay,” Sam repeated. He and Steve were jogging through Central Park. Steve had just lapped him for a fourth time before slowing to match his pace, and the bastard didn’t even have the decency to sound winded. “As what?”
“You ever see the Pride and Prejudice movie, the really long one?”
“Dude. I have three sisters. It was required viewing.”
“I need a Mr. Darcy outfit.”
Sam slowed to a walk, holding one hand up in a time-out gesture until he caught his breath enough to form full sentences. “You’re going to cosplay as Mr. Darcy? The Colin Firth, look-how-wet-and-clinging-my-shirt-is Mr. Darcy?”
Steve looked down and shuffled his feet. It was amazing to watch over six feet of pure muscle somehow telegraph bashful. “Yeah. Tony’s birthday is coming up, and, well. It’s sort of an inside joke.”
(Five times everyone but Tony knew he was dating Steve, and one time Tony figured it out.)
- Part 2 of The Last to Know
10 May 2016
“Holy shit,” Clint’s eyes were huge and round. “Did you get Steve pregnant?”
Tony choked on his coffee. “What? How--why--what? How would that even happen?”
“Hey, you’re the one planning to ambush him with a shotgun wedding.” Clint moved his bowl of Lucky Charms out of the range of Tony’s coffee spray. “It’s a reasonable question.”
“Steve’s not pregnant!” Tony shouted. Was he? He couldn’t be. They hadn’t been gender-swapped lately. What about that alien fertility ray? No, that had been at least seven months ago.
Steve wasn’t pregnant.
“I’m not ready to be a father,” Tony blurted, clutching his hair with both hands.
“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” Clint opened the liquor cabinet and examined its contents with a critical eye. “What kind of booze goes best with marshmallows?”
(Tony plans a wedding. The wedding is in ten hours and he hasn’t exactly proposed yet, but he’s used to compressed project cycles. What could possibly go wrong?)
- Part 3 of The Last to Know