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Robot Pants-Off Dance-Off

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So the most recent incident was pretty weird. Nothing they couldn't handle, natch, just another mad scientist with his robot army but it did end with an explosion of red gas and said mad scientist sort of...loving on one of his robots.

(Tony hates to admit that he kind of gets it but seriously dude--love your tech, just don't looove your tech.)

The red gas dissipates quickly and doesn’t seem to have done any harm—SHIELD’s cleared everybody and nobody’s gonna stick around and help BioChem analyze the stuff, that’s for sure. It’s still early in the evening and almost everyone is in a pretty good mood--even Bruce is cracking a smile at Tony singing “There’s Something In the Air Tonight,” while Clint makes self-proclaimed off-color jokes ("pun SO intended," Clint yells) about how it’s a good thing Bruce was stuck six blocks away or right now the Hulk might be trying to make time with the Statue of Liberty. 

Cap is the only one of them who had gotten a dose of the red stuff anyway--he'd been in the middle of everything, as per usual--saving civilians and agents and kicking robot ass for the Free World. But since he was literally built for shit like that, he’d gotten the all clear just like everyone else. Still, Tony notices, he’s the only one that isn’t really smiling and joking. BioChem had taken his suit to analyze the red residue though, so maybe he's just annoyed by the kind of too-small SHIELD hoodie and sweatpants they'd forced him into. He keeps unzipping the hoodie, like he’s about to take it off, and then zipping it back up again. Tony makes a mental note to add Cap-sized clothes to the backpack that has the Hulk emergency pants in it. (It’s a cute little kids’ kind with the Hulk's big green grinning face emblazoned on it, of course--Clint makes all the newest agents carry it, because he's kind of a dick.)

One of the mad scientist's stupid bots kicked Tony in the leg, so they're all taking the elevator today; even Thor, because he just likes to be with everybody else. The doors open and they're squishing in when Darcy comes skidding around the corner in her own SHIELD-issued Post-Incident Sweats, looking flushed and squirrelly and…kind of embarrassed? This intrigues Tony, because Darcy pretty much never looks embarrassed and he knows it's not the clothes because he's seen her wearing a Hulk t-shirt without irony on the days she works in Bruce's lab. Also, Tony’s wondering why she’s wearing Post-Incident Sweats too when suddenly Coulson is there, hot on her heels. He’s looking at Tony with the eyes, the ones that say I Know What You Did Last Summer and I Still Know What You Did Last Summer. This is sufficient enough to derail him from the Darcy puzzle because Coulson's all up in his face about "what have I told you about pretending to write Captain America's reports?"

(Which he did like, ONE time, but will Coulson ever forget it? No.)

He has to defend himself, because he totally sat there with everybody else and filled out his stupid report (the day Coulson and Steve discovered that the only way post-mission write-ups would actually get done was if everyone had to stay at SHIELD and sit in the lunchroom writing them together was a sad day), so he doesn't even know what Coulson is talking about and says so.

"Really. ‘ There were robots. I punched them. We won.’ "

"Yes really, and besides, I didn’t call them robots. I called them ‘mad scientist booty bots.’"

 Coulson makes a face, because that's exactly what Tony called them in his report. So they both turn to Cap and discover that everyone has gotten really quiet and are watching the corner of the elevator where Steve and Darcy are just staring at each other, like, straight out of "Drive,” without the spotlight or the Scandinavian background music. Or the face stomping. Tony’s inner IMDB is interrupted by a nameless Medical agent coming around the corner and Steve moves super fast to grab Darcy around the waist and drag her into the elevator and Natasha hits the ‘door close’ button in Coulson and Nameless Medical’s faces, because that's what teammates do. However, teammates also then turn as one to look at Steve and Darcy, who are pressed together, both of them holding onto the other with the same look that Nat gets when she reads Guns and Ammo. Except... Captain America doesn't usually (ever) have that look on his face. It's not a look that Tony imagined Captain America even possessed. But what the hell--Tony's straight, not narrow--he's gotta admit, it's a good look.

But like, if Steve isn't there to be Dad somebody's gotta do it, and Tony is much better at 'cool Uncle Tony!' so it's obviously up to Bruce.

Who is already sighing and saying “Okay. So I’m guessing that Darcy was out there in the middle of the robot pants-off dance-off and Medical probably shouldn’t have cleared Cap.”


Tony has seen a lot of sex. He’s not even including in that the a lot of sex he himself has had. And obviously, he’s looked around at his team and noted what a fine-looking bunch of superheroes they are.

But none of the sex he’s seen or the fantasies about post-battle celebrations have made him feel like he was peeping in somebody’s window. Whatever is happening in the corner with Steve and Darcy isn’t technically sex—they still have their freaking SHIELD hoodies on, but it’s way more intimate looking than anything Tony can exactly put into words. Sure, Darcy’s feet aren’t touching the floor anymore, courtesy of Cap’s thigh and she’s making little breathless sighs and moans with her head thrown back against the elevator wall but there’s something about the way her hands look so small and delicate twisting possessively at Cap’s shoulders. She’s going to have to wear turtlenecks for the rest of her, oh, ever, since Cap is going to town on her throat, but he’s holding her so carefully as he nips and kisses and licks at her neck that it almost looks…reverent. Somehow, that just makes it even more excruciatingly private.

Frankly, the elevator ride is just painful. Like, literally. Tony and the rest of the team are crammed into the furthest corner as tightly as they can—not exactly easy when one of them is wearing power armor and one of them is Thor. Nat is actually sitting on Thor’s shoulders—not so she has a better view, because they’re all trying desperately to look anywhere but over there—she’s doing it because it gives the other corner a little more room.

It is still not enough room.

“Wow, this ride is sure taking a long time,” Tony says finally and everybody (including him) kind of jumps at how loud his voice seems. He cringes and looks around frantically until his eyes land on Clint, who is a pal and maintains eye contact.

“Yes, Tony. Yes it is,” Clint says, with his voice low. He’s also looking incredibly glad for someone to maintain eye contact with. “I sure would like to get off now.” His eyes get very wide and he whispers, “Pun so not intended.”

Bruce puts his glasses on, and they all wiggle around until they’re in something like a huddle. “Obviously, we have to get them to the lab. My lab.” He grimaces. “I get the impression Steve isn’t in the mood to go back to Medical.”

Above their heads, Natasha gives a swift look in the opposite direction and immediately puts her head back down. “Can we stop with the unintentional punnery?” 

Bruce looks apologetic, but forges on. “The red gas obviously had some kind of pheromone component,” he whispers (they’re all whispering now because…well, because.) “I should run some blood work on them and see if it has any other side-effects.”

“Besides the dishonor Captain Rogers is showing the Lady Darcy?” Thor says, in an angry whisper. “I will separate them by force, if need be.” Then he winces and scowls up at Natasha. “What was that for?”

Ouch, Tony thinks, but that’s the chance you take by allowing Natasha to put her thighs around your head. And also, OH MY GOD because why did he not think about that before?

“Oh my GOD. We can’t just let Cap go all caveman on Darcy! We have to stop him!” He makes a move toward the corner when suddenly Thor yelps and grabs Tony’s arm to pull him back. “Dude. What the hell--“

Then he sees that Nat has strands of Thor’s hair in both of her hands and the look on Thor’s face indicates there’s some of that famous Widow thigh-work going on.

Yes. She is effectively working him like a very lethal jockey.

Thor tries to shake her hands out of his hair—ineffectually, and she coolly waits until he stops shaking before letting go. Then she pats his head and this is now officially such a weird day that Tony is waiting for her to give Thor a sugar cube.

She leans down and whispers “I understand you’re both very protective of Darcy but trust me, right now there isn’t anything going on over there that they haven’t done before. Uh. Yet.”

“What. What?” and “I do not understand—, “and a deep sigh comes from Tony, Thor and Bruce.

Clint rolls his eyes. “Well, they are dating.”

“I was not aware of this,” Thor says, looking affronted. And kinda mad, like Steve should have declared his intentions or something. Which actually sounds like something Steve would do, so now Tony is confused too. Also, he does not like being left out of gossip.

“When did that happen?”

Clint just shrugs. “Couple weeks ago.”

 “It is highly improper for the Captain to take such…liberties with a maiden in full view of others,” Thor says, and oh yeah, Tony forgets sometimes that Thor gets really weird about etiquette and shit.

“Courting or no, I am most uncomfortable witnessing this,” he sniffs, “whatever your Midgardian customs may allow.”

“Uh dude, hello?” Clint snaps/whispers back. “We’re all uncomfortable or we wouldn’t be jammed into this corner trying to avoid them. You’re wearing Nat like another cape and I think I’m going to have a bruise from Bruce’s belt buckle.” He glares at everyone. “Innuendo not intended. Oh my god Stark, did you design the slowest elevator in the entire world?”

“Hey! When you get your PhD in Electrical Engineering let’s have this discussion again. We should be there by now!” Unfortunately, Clint has a point--this ride really is taking a long time. Tony sighs. “JARVIS, what’s happening with the elevator?”

“I believe Agent Coulson was attempting to bring you back to his location, sir. I have over-ridden the request and you are presently on a course to Dr. Banner’s lab,” JARVIS whispers.

 “Oh god,” Clint moans. “That’s it. I will not be in here when Cap rounds third base. I’m going out the top.”

“There is no need for such drastic measures, Agent Barton,” JARVIS’ voice interjects. “The doors will open in 4.7 seconds.”

 “JARVIS, how did I not notice that?”

“It is possible the gas in the air around Captain Rogers and Miss Lewis has some residual effects, sir. It may have also caused some slight cognition degradation.” Uh. Everybody in the corner freezes and there are wary looks all around, because this elevator is definitely too small already and the last thing they need is for anybody else to get a pheromone contact-high.

JARVIS’ voice cuts in smoothly. “I wouldn’t be too concerned, sir. If I may add, as a consolation, you were all quite distracted by Captain Rogers and Miss Lewis at the time. The doors are opening now, sir.”

True to his word, the doors open and the huddled group from corner B rushes out as one into the hallway. Well, as two, because Natasha launches herself off Thor’s shoulders and does a smooth landing roll.

After everyone has spent a moment too long taking deep breaths of the “good” air from the hall, Bruce straightens up. “Okay. Lab time.”

“Right,” Tony says. “Now who’s going to tell them that?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

“It’s okay Tony,” Cap’s voice comes from the elevator. They all turn to see Steve with his arms wrapped protectively around Darcy, her head tucked against his chest. “We know you have to separate us.”

Darcy turns to look up at Steve. “I don’t want to anymore.”

He grabs her hand and holds it tightly, pulling her closer. “It’ll be okay. Remember? It’s for the best. Just like we talked about.”

“When was there talking?” Tony asks, only half-kidding. “Were you literally communicating via tongues?”

Steve, of course, just gives Tony a look of disappointment, as if he was the one who just put some professional shows in Amsterdam to shame, and turns back to Darcy. “It won’t be long. We have to—to… Because…”

“We’re losing him,” Clint says and Bruce jumps in with “We have to get some baseline readings!”

“For science!” Thor shouts and for some bizarre reason (probably Jane’s personal brainwashing technique) that works on Darcy.

“For science,” she whispers and grabs Steve’s face in both hands to give him a lingering kiss. “I have to go now, or I’ll never go.” However, she doesn’t move and Steve rests his forehead against hers.

“You’re going to have to go first,” Steve says roughly, “because as far as I’m concerned, right now science can go fuck itself.”

That gets a shaky laugh from Darcy and she gently disentangles herself from his arms, kissing both of his hands before finally letting go. Thor and Bruce move forward, slowly, and she lets them lead her from the elevator.

Thor looks like he wants to throw her over his shoulder and make a run for it, but Darcy stays deliberately away from both of them. She smoothes her hair and zips her hoodie back up. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s get this over with.” But then her grim determined smile crumbles a little and she whispers up to Thor, “Don’t let me look back, okay?”

Thor gives her a firm nod and puts his arm around her gently and everyone watches silently as they disappear around the corner, Bruce hurrying behind them.

That leaves Steve still in the elevator, looking for all the world like…well, like somebody just took his girl away. He doesn’t look like Captain America right now, Tony thinks. He may technically be like, 70 years old or something, but right now he just looks…young. And lost. And sad.

And Tony super sincerely hates the moron who started this whole thing in the first place. He hopes the dude’s bots have rejected him cruelly by now.

“Come on, buddy,” Clint says. Clint’s voice is low and soothing, as if he’s been thinking the same thing Tony has. “Let’s go fix this.”

Steve gives a terse nod and walks out of the elevator and with only a brief hesitation, heads in the opposite direction of Darcy.


Tony has the lab divided into two rooms—Clint and Tony guard Cap’s and Darcy has Thor and Natasha while Bruce scurries between. The walls had started out opaque but the look on Steve’s face was so devastated and the messages delivered via JARVIS  from Thor that Darcy was “most distressed!” had just gotten too heartbreaking to deal with. Add that to the fact that both of their pheromone levels continued to spike through the roof, and the longer they stayed separated the more agitated both of them became—the walls are transparent again.

Finally, Bruce tells JARVIS to call for a meet up outside, while Steve and Darcy both stand covered in electrodes and pressed against the glass on both sides. 

Steve looks up quickly, shaking his head. “No, I want to know what’s going on. Don’t go away and talk about us. We both want to know, right?”

Darcy is shaking her head too. “Please Bruce?” she says. “I’m scared and I want to know what’s happening.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, sweetheart,” Steve says urgently.

Darcy puts her hand up on the glass and Steve does the same on the other side. “’Cause I’m your girl, right?”

“That’s right. You’re rationed, sugar,” Steve says with a smile.

“Is it my headlights or my gams?”

“The whole ball of wax, baby-doll.”

The glass is a little foggy between them and Darcy sighs happily, resting her head against the glass. “Swell. I love it when you talk ‘40’s to me.”

Steve turns back to Bruce. “Okay, Doc. What’s the verdict?”

Bruce shakes his head a little, like he has to take a second to come back from 1940’s Land and Tony totally doesn’t blame him. That was weirdly hot.

“Well, uh, I don’t see any overtly harmful side-effects so far--besides the obvious uncomfortable ones. I think it’s just a pheromone reuptake agent. Basically, it takes what’s already there and enhances it.”

“That’s a stupid plan,” Natasha says.

Tony agrees. “So basically he was hoping that everybody would be so busy fucking that he could carry out whatever his other inevitably stupid plan was?”


“He obviously has a very different definition of what ‘teammates’ means,” Tony says lightly.

Bruce gives him a look. “Right. Well. Luckily, he got the worst of it which is why he was so…um, fond of his robots.”

“So it’s not going to turn them evil, or meld their consciousnesses or anything horrible like that?” Clint interrupts.

“Uh. No. At least, I don’t think so. Turn them evil? What? No. It will probably just lessen with time or…uh. Time.”

Tony’s annoyed that Clint got there first, because he was going to ask kind of the same thing. Because, crap. Now who’s going to ask about the 70 year-old virgin gorilla in the room? They all know Steve is very private. That Nat and Clint even know Steve and Darcy are dating is only due to their super ninja-spy skills.

(There may or may not be a pool running for when somebody finally punches Steve’s V-card.)

But Steve is old-fashioned. When the Red Gas of Lust wears off, he’s going to be incredibly embarrassed that anyone on the team saw anything. And since that card apparently hasn’t been punched, for whatever reason, he’s probably not going to want to do it like this. Except that the effects will probably wear off faster if they just do it, so... Yeah, Tony’s back to super hating Dr. Booty Bot.

He does a quick survey of the situation. Cap and Darcy are back to staring again, although now it’s less like they’re trying to figure out how to get into the same room so they can die tragically together and more like they’d just like to get back to what they were doing in the elevator. In addition, everyone else is pointedly not looking at Tony except for Natasha, who is giving him the face of ‘do what you do best, comrade.’

Sometimes it sucks to be the guy everyone knows will always say the thing. “Okay, so obviously, I have to be the one to say it. The way I see it, there are two options. Do we leave them alone and let them make the beast with two backs?” he says, in as low a voice as he can.

“Classy, Stark,” Clint snorts.

“Or,” Tony says, ignoring Clint, “do we keep them separate and tell them it’s cold showers for everybody?”

Bruce pulls his glasses off to polish them on his shirt. “Uh, right, kind of a mix of the two probably? I guess, keep them separate for now, and I’ll run their blood work again to see how the pheromone is progressing. Just to be safe. Meanwhile, Natasha, if you could contact SHIELD and see how—what’s his name? The robot guy?”

“Dr. Booty Bot?” Tony offers.

Bruce shrugs. “Sure, whatever. Find out how Dr. Booty Bot is doing and then we can see…where we go from there.”


After Nat leaves to call SHIELD (and probably tell Coulson everything), Bruce leads Darcy back to the table and attaches her to the EEG again. Thor stands next to Bruce and asks a lot of questions, loudly, like his booming voice alone will make Darcy less…pheremonal.

In their room, Steve is pacing back and forth, clearly trying to burn off some steam, and Clint and Tony don’t have much to do besides stand there and watch him be antsy and horny. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, so of course, Tony has to say something.

“That’s good news. You know, considering.”

“Turning evil sucks,” Clint offers.

“Yeah. So we’ll get the all clear and then you two can…be alone. Somewhere.”

“No,” Steve says quietly. “We’re going to stay separated until this stuff wears off.”

“Why?” Tony is honestly confused. “I thought you were dating?”

“For a few weeks, Tony. That’s all.”

“A few weeks. Okay? And? And—ooohhh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” He huffs out a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m even talking to you about this but under the circumstances…I guess I’d just rather not have help from a mad scientist, you know?”

“Well, sure. But. What if the effects last for, like, a really long time? I mean, you’ll just have a little extra something-something, um, helping you along. Maybe it’ll be good for stamina! Which is always helpful for virgins,” Tony says, without thinking.

Clint gives him the most incredulous look Tony has ever gotten from him—which is…well. A lot. “Dude. I cannot believe you just said that out loud.”

This is, of course, the point at which Tony realizes he said that last part out loud.

Steve covers his face with his hands.

“Oh god. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it being your first time! It’s, it’s nice! It’s nothing to be ashamed of!” His mouth will not stop issuing forth words!

Clint has his hands in the air like maybe he can literally wave off Tony’s insane babbling. It does not work.

“We don’t like, talk about it, or anything. And even if we did, we’re not judging. I swear, we’re not judging.”

Steve pulls his hands away from his face abruptly. “What did you say?”

“Oh god, which part?” Clint moans.

“You guys talk about—you, you,” Steve splutters. Then his eyes narrow. “Is there a betting pool on when I would…on this?”

Tony wants so badly to lie, to lie shamelessly like he’s lied so many times before. But this is Steve. No, fuck that. This is Captain America. And he’s wearing his Captain America face. How do you lie to Captain America’s face?

“Yes,” he says, miserably. Clint slaps his hands over his eyes. Tony just closes his.

There is definitely going to be face punching. And possibly face stomping. Every single member of that betting pool is going to straight up kill him and…that is a lot of people. He hopes Thor gets to him first. At least that’ll just be a quick Mjölnir to the head.

He sneaks a peek. Oh god. Now the Captain America face is gone but it’s even worse, because now it’s Sad Steve. Sad Steve Face is like you just told the entire world there is no Santa Claus. Or like all the kittens and puppies and rainbows are gone forever because you hate everyone’s happiness.

“How much is it?” Steve says, in a low voice.

“Um. A…nice little sum.”

Steve ‘hms’ softly. “Well, I hope you gave people points, because when I collect your money I want to take Darcy somewhere nice for a vacation. What’s the over/under going to be for 1943?”

There’s a part of Tony’s brain that is just hardwired to react to math problems, so he starts calculating before the meaning of the words fully penetrate.

“What? But you said—whatever. Then why are we going to all this work to keep the two of you separate?” Clearly, Clint didn’t bother with the math exercise. “You guys have been together for three weeks. What’s the hold up?”

Steve blushes a little and looks at the ceiling awkwardly. “Listen, you heard me say ‘1943’, right? It was just the once, you know. And yes, it’s only been a few weeks and I didn’t want to…pressure her or anything.” He stops and then just looks mad again. “Why the hell am I justifying this to you?”

“Hey man, don’t get your blue balls all twisted,” Clint says, crossing his arms and Tony winces for him. Maybe he can’t see that the Captain America face is back?

“Just because being a gentleman is so uncool now, doesn’t mean that I’m going to ask my girl to do something she doesn’t want to do!”

“What don’t I want to do? Because I don’t remember you asking me anything.”

There is an epic silence following Darcy’s words.


(And then there’s some back and forth between Steve and Darcy about how they each thought they were waiting for the other person and yes, they should communicate more blah blah before they decide it’s moot anyway and now they just want to get it on. But Thor reminds everyone they haven’t heard back from SHIELD and a vote of 4-2 says they should wait for Natasha to get back and Steve punches a wall or two and Darcy starts crying out of sheer frustration and there’s a lot of yelling before finally Bruce just Hulks out, breaks the glass, grabs Steve, and very gently, sets him beside Darcy because “TINY LADY NOT CRY”. Hulk blessing given (because “HULK BELIEVE IN LOVE”), he herds everyone else out, leaving Steve and Darcy alone.)

JARVIS quietly turns the remaining glass opaque.


Steve knows, intellectually, that he should be more concerned about an outside-of-battle Hulk-out, especially considering he was one of the mitigating factors. But right now—transfixed by the strands of hair that have fallen out of Darcy’s ponytail and now cling damply to the back of her neck—he just doesn’t.

This close (and when did he get this close? He doesn’t even remember moving.) he can smell her—that shower gel stuff she uses and sweat and something else, the something that he’s classified as distinctly Darcy. She turns around and he knows that he moved too quietly and she’s surprised--but not, because there’s no way she doesn’t know where he is, the same way he could find her three rooms and a floor away. Her eyes get wide, but not scared, which is good because he doesn’t want to even try to make himself move back. She looks up at him and tilts her head a little as they drift further into each other’s space. Everything and everyone else just falls away.

There’s a flush staining her cheeks, her lower lip is trembling slightly, and suddenly it’s very clear to Steve that the Hulk and the Avengers and Nick Fury combined could come through the door and it wouldn’t matter, that nothing is going to stop them. It has to be written all over his face (the same way it is hers) because she shivers and that’s it—that’s his cue. He's already so close to her, all he has to do is reach out to slide his arms around her—

One of her hands darts forward and catches the hem of his shirt. “Are you—Are you sure you’re okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah,” he says and because even through the haze of lust and want he’s still him, he has to ask too. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Her hands are already under his shirt and he wants the shirt off, so he reaches back and pulls it over his head. It gets thrown somewhere… he doesn’t care where. Her hands are back immediately, slipping against his stomach and his chest and basically everywhere she can reach. He ducks his head until their lips are almost touching.

“Yeah,” she echoes back. Her breath is coming in little gasps. “Really, really okay,” she says and his little huff of laughter gets lost against her mouth when they both move at the same time; he finally gets his arms around her and lifts her up and she’s already winding her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Steve’s just so glad that she’s there, that he can hold her now and feel her and the waves of aggression and fear that have been pouring off him for the last few hours are finally fading into the background. The sharp burning edge of want hasn’t gone away, but his senses are filled with other things now too—smell and feel and touch.

“I want to touch you everywhere,” Steve says finally, because he can’t help it. He does.

“Yes,” she says, shuddering against him, “you can, I'll let you, I want you to—everything--”, and pulls back just enough to yank her own shirt off over her head. Her bra quickly follows in the same direction.

He pulls her against him because he has to feel her magnificent breasts against his chest while his fingers skim all over the smooth expanse of her back. He moves toward the wall—not because he can’t hold her because he can, he could, forever, but he was serious—he wants his hands free to touch everywhere. She grinds down against him when he pins her to wall with one thigh firmly between hers and now he can kiss her until he can barely breathe, until her lips are swollen and just as pink as her cheeks. She whimpers a little when he pulls away but goes back to moaning and writhing as he kisses and licks his way to suck lightly on her nipple. He loves this, he does, but he’s got his mind set on new territory.

Somewhere in a distant part of his brain, he thinks about taking his time and savoring this, but it’s fleeting and he discovers he can't think much beyond sliding his hand down along the soft skin of her belly. He stops thinking altogether when his hand dips below her waistband and his fingers brush against the damp cotton of her panties.

She’s, oh, wet and slick against his fingers and now he does take his time stroking and exploring. She arches against him, so he catches her lips again and kisses her, frantic and messy. Her hands are moving and clutching at his shoulders and he keeps circling his fingers, finding all the little places that make her cry out. He’s running on instinct, searching out pleasure for both of them but he guesses he’s making the right turns when he slips two fingers inside her because she lets out a ragged gasp and her eyes flutter shut as her head falls back against the wall. It is a gorgeous thing to see the pulse pounding in the soft skin of her neck and he has to bend down to lick at the damp hollow of her collarbone. 

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against her neck. “I want to see you,” and then she grinds down against his hand, coming around his fingers.

He can’t tell if the air is actually hotter or if it’s just because that was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Darcy takes a shaky breath and Steve tries to smile at her, trying to ignore the fact that it feels like he’s harder than he has ever been in his life. If he thought that would take the edge off, he was wrong. If anything, the edge is sharper than ever. Reluctantly, slowly, he pulls his hands from her pants and feels almost sad about it. But before he knows it, she's unwinding her legs from his waist, standing shakily and…trying to turn him around, with her tiny hands pushing at his chest.

“What—oh.” He finally gets with the program and lets her maneuver him back against the wall.

Then she drops to her knees and he can’t say anything at all. She cocks her head to the side for a minute and then just yanks the ridiculous SHIELD sweats down to his ankles. He jerks in surprise and she gives him a smug grin that he doesn’t even try to return when her mouth closes around his dick. It’s almost unbearably good and oh boy, he knew it was going to be over fast, even before she looks up at him and says, “You can come in my mouth.”

So he does.


“I’d kill for a glass of water,” Darcy says and Steve’s about to agree when he sees her licking her lips smugly and remembers why she might want some water. If he had it left in him to blush, he might, but at this point…who cares? But he still fumbles with his sweats (which are almost as tight as the suit, for the love of…) and finally gets them on before going off in search of water. Darcy has appropriated his shirt, and for all it stuck to him like a second skin, she’s able to sit with her knees tucked up inside it. She dangles her shirt at him as a trade and he laughs, because he could conceivably wear it as a hat.

He finds some water bottles in a little fridge in the next room and Darcy drains one when he gets back. He drops down next to her and she immediately climbs into his lap.

“Mm. I’m cold,” she says, burrowing against him until their legs tangle together and her head is resting on his shoulder. He automatically wraps his arms around her and she sighs.

“JARVIS?” Steve says, tentatively. He really hopes somebody thought to switch to privacy mode.

“Yes, sir? Captain Rogers and Miss Lewis, I would like to reassure you that I was largely off-line in this area. I was monitoring only life-signs and for signals of distress.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you?” Steve offers.

“My pleasure, sir.”

“Is it cold in here?”

Darcy giggles. He wonders how long it will be before she just has to make a terrible joke back.

 “Or are you just unhappy to see me?” Darcy whispers. So…not that long.

“Please stop channeling Tony,” Steve whispers back. “The ‘that’s what she said’ lesson in pop-culture was three weeks of my life I’ll never get back.”

“Agreed, sir. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that was a rather trying month.” Somebody says it practically every day, but none of them will ever understand how Tony managed to get his AI to sound so…long-suffering.

“The room itself is at 78.3 degrees Fahrenheit, sir. However, both you and Miss Lewis have an elevated body temperature. I believe that is why Miss Lewis is feeling a chill. I can raise the ambient temperature and I can direct you toward some blankets. There are also two Snuggies in the main lab.”

“You are kidding me, JARVIS!” Darcy is practically vibrating with glee.

“Indeed, I am not.”

“Oh please tell me that there’s footage of Bruce and Tony wearing Snuggies!”

“I believe, Miss Lewis, I am unauthorized to show you any video that involves the use of liquid nitrogen in the lab—if that answers your question, miss.”

“It does, JARVIS. Oh, it does. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to get-“

“No,” she says and he stops the half-hearted attempt he was making to move. “Those are proprietary Snuggies, I’m sure.” She squirms around so she can throw her leg over his and straddle him. Then she slips her arms around his neck and his hands go to rest comfortably on her hips. “You’re hot and hot so you’re much better than a Snuggie anyway,” she says, as seriously as she can.

“Thanks, I think.”

“Well, it’s a pretty big compliment, you know. It’s a blanket with sleeves.”

“Will the wonders of this modern age never cease?” Steve says, dryly.

“Right?” she giggles. Then she does a little roll of her hips against him and her smile turns into a smug smirk. “You don’t seem to be having a problem with the temperature.”

Steve tries to laugh but it comes out a little strangled. “Well, you’re all…wiggly!” The curl of want is back again, tightening in his belly, but now he thinks it’s less the drug and more just having a lapful of Darcy. He tightens his hold on her hips and does a little wiggling of his own.

Darcy darts forward; kissing him between giggles and gasps until his wiggling becomes more of a slow grind up and her smirk is lost in long, lush kisses. She goes up on her knees and his hold on her t-shirt slips and that’s when he has the happy discovery that she didn’t put her panties back on.

His stupid pants were getting incredibly uncomfortable anyway so he’s more than happy to help her take them off. Working together, he can keep touching her, moving his hand from her hip to get his fingers between her thighs and she can keep kissing him while she helps peel his sweats off. They give up halfway down, leaving his pants tangled around his knees, but he doesn’t care at all because Darcy is slick and tight around his fingers again and gasping against his lips. She’s swaying a little, as if her legs are wobbly, so he hauls her up against his chest, leaving sticky marks on her hips and her ass. She’s still on her knees, but with her legs spread wide across his lap. His arms are long enough that it doesn’t take much to effort to spread her open a little further and reach behind her to start stroking again. The little gasps are gone, replaced by long, shuddering moans. He’s thinking that he could happily do this forever when she puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself up, before oh so slowly dragging her clit along the underside of his dick. All he can do then is kiss her and kiss her. Just one hand on her hip, his other hand slipping fingers inside her from behind, frantic kisses while she desperately grinds against him. He could come like this, he thinks, and then she does.

“Oh my god, Steve,” she mumbles against his neck. He agrees, but he’s also still hard and aching between them. “I don’t think I can feel my legs. Or my arms.” But he can feel everything, every part of every place they’re touching and he feels like he’s going to go nuts-- “So you’re going to have to help me.”

Right. He can do that.

“I can do that,” he says. He would probably be surprised at how hoarse his voice was if he wasn’t busy lifting her up and trying to go slow, but she’s so wet that she sinks right down and he’s gone, lost in the tight brilliant heat of her.

“Oh oh oh,” she’s saying as he fucks up into her and he’s saying something about how beautiful she is, babbling, he doesn’t even know, just moving and thrusting while she holds on and rides him. “Yes, there, that’s—harder,” she chokes out and he’s slamming into her and it’s incredible as she goes wild in his arms, tightening even more around him and he follows her, shaking, over the edge.


Tony’s not exactly happy that the Hulk makes an appearance (yeah, he’s got a lot of money, but Hulk-induced repairs are seriously expensive) but it does give everybody something else to think about besides the bow-chicka-wow-wow happening in the room next to them.

Fortunately (or strangely unfortunately), the Hulk seems content with his matchmaking and it doesn’t take long for Bruce to reappear, embarrassed and naked. Thor practically rips his cape getting it off to throw over Bruce.

But Tony still has JARVIS’ words marching through his head--“It is possible the gas in the air around Captain Rogers and Miss Lewis has some residual effects, sir,”—and if he has any doubts about the others remembering that, they’re gone when Clint accidentally brushes against Tony’s arm and then immediately backs away, hands up, saying something about a “red-light touch.” Everybody starts eyeing each other, on the lookout for signs of sexiness or whatever and when things next door start getting loud--there’s an unspoken agreement to get the hell out of there.

They all get into the elevator with great hesitation.

It’s not that Tony is necessarily against a big Avengers orgy. He could see it being a nice team-building exercise. Just, a sexy one. But the mad scientist battle, sex gas and hours of worrying about Steve and Darcy, plus the added Hulk-out? Not exactly awesome foreplay. Basically, Tony is freaking tired.

Plus, it’s pretty obvious that Thor and Clint would need like, dinner and a movie first.

But…maybe? That’s something for Tony to put in his Possible Plans mental folder. So for tonight anyway, he’s keeping his hands and his…everything to himself.

Besides, he knows Pepper would kill him for having an Avengers orgy without her.