Trips to the moon were becoming just another day for the Avengers, and after the team had a moment to rest, clustered around the kitchen table, one by one they began to stagger off for their own post-mission rituals. Tony stowed the armor in his workshop and helped himself to a nice and long shower, letting the hot water soothe the aches and pains of the day. It was late by the time he finished, so he didn’t bother getting dressed in anything fancier than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, before setting off downstairs to find Steve.
The fact that Captain America had an office in Avengers Tower was a well-kept secret, known only to a handful of people. Steve liked to insist it was more like a study, but given his tendency to retreat there to review battle footage or read reports, Tony felt the term office held up to scrutiny. The door was ajar when Tony got there, and he nudged it open a little further, expecting to find Steve there. He wasn’t disappointed; Steve was sitting on the squashy couch in the corner, reading something on his StarkPad.
“Hey, Cap,” Tony said, having learned a long time ago it was a bad idea to sneak up on or otherwise startle most of his teammates.
Steve lowered the tablet and looked up at Tony, an easy smile appearing. “Tony.”
“What’s up?” Tony asked, leaning in the doorway.
“Just doing a little light reading.” Steve nodded to the StarkPad in indication. “I wouldn’t mind some company, though.”
Tony stepped further inside and closed the door, then went to join Steve on the couch. “Are you really reading files for fun?”
“No,” Steve said. He lifted his arm so that Tony could settle in at his side, and brought it back down around Tony’s shoulders. “I mean, I do read files in my free time, sometimes. But I was updating my file on the Hulk.”
“Good idea,” Tony said. He burrowed in against Steve, shamelessly leaching warmth. “I’m disappointed in us for not paying more attention to what he gets up to in his free time.”
“Given he’s a big green guy who collects little crystal statues, I suppose we should have suspected there were more layers than just the smashing and the eating.”
“It’s just hard to look past the food fights and having to fix the holes he makes in my tower every couple of weeks,” Tony said.
“Something tells me he’s perfectly capable of avoiding that,” Steve said.
“Tell that to Spider-Man. He’s probably still trying to pay off that hot dog cart. Remind me to send that guy some money.”
“The hot dog vendor.” Tony paused. “Although the kid could probably use some money, too. Maybe we should start The Avengers’ Young Superhero Scholarship Fund.”
“Enough worrying,” Steve said. He set his tablet aside and shifted, turning his body toward Tony’s. “It’s time to relax now.”
Tony sighed, slumping down to nuzzle at Steve’s shoulder. “Relaxing is good. I can relax. I’m so good at relaxing.”
Steve’s laugh was deep and warm, resonating through his chest and vibrating through Tony’s body where they were pressed together. “Come here, I think I can help you with that.”
Tony sat up straight and, before he quite realized what was happening, found himself tugged onto Steve’s lap. Steve cupped his hand at the back of Tony’s neck and pulled him in close for a kiss, and ... well, that was definitely a surefire way for Steve to take Tony’s mind off things. He had difficulty thinking about very much at any length when he had Steve’s tongue in his mouth, and really, even while Tony had come down here more for simple company than anything else, he could not deny that he found physical intimacy with Steve a great means of winding down after a stressful day.
Steve was a wonderful kisser, a little bit shy at first but always confident and sure once he found his bearings. He seemed to know instinctively when to break for air, and where to put his hands, or how to tilt his head for the best angle, and Tony always felt dazed in the best of ways when it was over. He knew, objectively, that it was the endorphins, the dopamine and oxytocin leaving him happy and pliant, but he didn’t care about the why of it, exactly.
The truth was, it hadn’t really taken an awkward conversation in an elevator to make Tony realize that how he felt about Steve was really much deeper than their ill-defined status as two friends and teammates who happened to sleep together. The troubling part was that Tony had no idea what to do with that knowledge.
Spending time with Steve was amazing, and finding ways to relax with him - especially like this - even better. Tony was not, in spite of some people’s ideas of the complexes he must possess, strictly prone to the fear of failure, but he did worry actively - and often - about messing up a good thing where Steve was concerned.
Fortunately, Steve rarely seemed to worry about anything of that nature ... or, if he did, he never mentioned it to Tony; Steve was great that way.
Steve was great, and his hands were warm, skimming under the hem of Tony’s shirt and up Tony’s back, around to brush over Tony’s sides, like Steve was trying to map him.
Tony made a completely undignified noise that was definitely not a squeak (it was totally a squeak) when Steve tweaked a nipple between forefinger and thumb. Steve laughed, of all things, just a soft puff of breath between kisses, and was encouraged to repeat that move on the other side.
Steve hooked his fingers in the waist of Tony’s sweatpants, then made a surprised and pleased little noise when he found they were all Tony wore. He tugged them down until he could get a hand around Tony’s cock; Tony groaned and pushed into the strong grip of Steve’s fingers, his own hands fumbling at Steve’s pants, softly cursing between kisses that Steve had chosen to wear more difficult clothes.
Steve reached between them and, one-handed, unfastened his pants; Tony would have been jealous of the dexterity, if he wasn’t distracted looking at Steve’s cock. Tony wanted to move, wanted to speed things up, maybe get his mouth on Steve, but Steve kept his grip on Tony’s hip and held him in place, apparently intent on taking his time and guiding their progress, and … well, Tony liked that. It was refreshing, with the sexual history that Tony had – the reputation that Tony had – to have a partner who didn’t seem to have expectations of Tony to keep things fresh, who wanted to contribute his own part to their intimacy.
Tony was distracted, distracted by getting his hand around Steve’s cock, distracted by the way Steve’s big, strong hand was jerking him in return, so he gave a confused and undignified flail when the room started to turn on end, until he realized Steve was shifting them around, and Tony ended up planted on his back against the couch cushions.
Steve hovered over him, a warm and heavy weight, strong enough to hold himself effortlessly on one arm, though, of course he was.
“Steve,” Tony panted out, reaching up with both hands to grab at Steve’s hips, then his ass, dragging him down closer.
Steve moved as Tony urged him, even though he probably could have resisted without batting an eyelash, settling in until his cock was pressed against Tony’s skin, hot and hard against Tony’s hip. He stopped there, however, gently pulling Tony’s hands away from his hips; Steve gathered both of Tony’s wrists in one of his large hands and tugged them up, over Tony’s head, pinning them against the cushions.
Tony squirmed, a low whine in the back of his throat, and Steve leaned down to silence him with a kiss. Tony wasn’t, strictly speaking, one for restraints, but he loved occasionally getting manhandled a little by Steve, and a day like today – a day where they got a good workout but the threats they faced were neither world- nor life-ending ones – when they were feeling playful with each other, was the best time for it. He always felt secure, pinned by Steve this way, and Steve knew it; Steve always seemed to know what Tony needed, when he needed it.
Steve reached his free hand between them and wrapped around both their cocks, long fingers offering a tight space for them to thrust into; Tony rocked his hips to keep up with the rhythm of Steve’s, moaning softly between kisses. Steve’s pace was leisurely, but they were both wound up enough that it didn’t last long. Tony came first, orgasm shuddering through his body, making him gasp for breath. Steve was quieter about it, he always was, shifting thoughtfully to rub off against Tony’s hip until, at last, he came between their bodies. He gave up the ghost on trying to prop himself up after that, but shifted to one side, somehow managing to wedge most of his weight between Tony’s side and the couch cushions.
They lay there for a long moment, panting softly, chests heaving, trying to catch their breath. When Steve let his hands free, Tony began absently petting Steve’s hair, running his fingers through the soft blond strands.
Steve reached up and grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the end table to clean them both off, righting their clothes before he settled down again. Steve nudged Tony around until they lay with Tony on his back, Steve on his side next to Tony, half-draped over him.
“So,” Tony said after a moment, breaking the silence. “… can I come read reports with you more often?”
Steve shifted, pushing up on an elbow to look down at Tony. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Tony shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know why we don’t have sex in your office more often.”
“I … you know, I don’t know, either.” Steve paused. “Maybe because you get into an office and your brain won’t shut off, and you come up with young superhero scholarship funds.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “I think it’s a good idea.”
Steve rested his hand on Tony’s stomach, hitching up the fabric of his recently straightened t-shirt. “You’re right. It is.” He paused. “And I suppose the fact that Spider-Man is currently the most likely candidate to receive it doesn’t hurt.”
“You see right through me,” Tony said. “It would just be a more ... subtle way of lending him a hand. Financially speaking.”
“Without looking like a handout,” Steve added. “I like it.”
“I thought you might,” Tony said. “You’ve taught me that people tend not to like handouts.”
“I didn’t say that.” Steve settled in at Tony’s side again, his head on Tony’s shoulder. “People aren’t always well-intentioned, Tony. I don’t want to see anyone take advantage of your generosity.”
“Always looking out for me, Cap.” Tony smiled up at the ceiling. “But don’t worry. I’m not naive.”
“It’s not that I think that,” Steve said. “But Hulk’s file wasn’t the only one that needed updating.”
Tony squinted, shifting his gaze down to Steve again. “I don’t catch your meaning.”
“You’ve changed a lot, Tony,” Steve said. When Tony began to tense under his hand, he added, “And I mean that in a good way. When we put the team back together, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But you’ve really stepped up. Now ... it really doesn’t feel like a team so much as a family.”
“Oh.” Tony fell silent for a moment, a warm - and, he suspected, fuzzy - feeling growing in his chest.
Tony had certainly set out to make Steve feel welcome in the twenty-first century, and had always hoped, somewhere deep down, that their little band of superheroic misfits would stick this time. Sure, Black Widow might come and go as she pleased, Thor might sometimes get called to Asgard, and the Hulk might have an entire life on the side that none of them knew about until today, but the important thing was that they all managed to be a unit when it counted. It was not just their edge over the Cabal, but, Tony suspected, good for all of them. Himself included. So maybe his motivations weren’t entirely philanthropic, not when he had so much to gain, but it was hard to argue when Steve was looking at him with so much pride shining in his eyes.
“Thanks,” Tony said softly.
Steve raised his head and smiled. “I should be the one thanking you, Tony. You gave me a home, a place to belong, and a new family. It means the world to me.”
“Come on, Steve.” Tony laughed, quiet and nervous. “You’re gonna make me blush.”
“If that’s what it takes to make you blush,” Steve said, “then I’ll go up to the roof of the tower and sing your praises.”
“Steve.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You sang my praises inside an air duct on the Cabal’s submarine.”
“You seemed like you could use the pick-me-up.” Steve shrugged, utterly unrepentant.
Tony lifted his head for a kiss, smiling when he pulled away. “You always seem to know what I need, Steve.”
“You take such good care of us ... of me,” Steve said. “I just want to take care of you, too.”
“I trust I’m in very good hands with you, Steve,” Tony answered. “And you can update my file on that.”