Laundry Day had arrived at Avengers Tower. Tony leaned against the kitchen island sipping his coffee watching his teammates negotiate who this week’s victim would be. Tense negotiations, given that the team hadn’t done laundry last week due to a several day battle with the Squadron, including a trip through the guts of an angry space whale. No one, not even Steve who didn’t mind it, wanted to do the laundry.
“Seriously, guys, I have robots that can do laundry,” Tony offered. Tony always opted out of the team laundry on account of being a genius billionaire in possession of perfectly good robot workers and a dry-cleaning service that picked up and delivered. Yet, his teammates preferred to live in the dark ages because of missing socks.
“Tony, your robots mangled all my t-shirts and turned Hulk’s underwear pink,” Clint declared.
“Don’t like pink underwear,” Hulk agreed.
“Shall we arm-wrestle for the honor of completing such an honorable task?” Thor suggested.
“No, and we’re not playing rock, scissors, and paper either,” Steve said firmly, fixing his eye on each Avenger, including Tony. “We all know what happened last time we tried that.” Thor and Hulk looked around sheepishly as Tony shuddered. “We’ll draw straws.”
Sam, apprehensive after a three week losing streak, drew the first one and barely hid his obvious relief. Clint didn't even try, and whooped when he pulled a long straw. Natasha, Hulk, and Thor also all pulled long straws, leaving Steve with the short one.
“Sure you don’t want me to do your laundry too, Tony?” Steve asked.
Tony snorted. “That’s why I have robots.”
“You still owe me church pants from the last time,” Sam pointed out. “Your robots burned them.”
“My robots are programmed to do laundry safely and efficiently. I haven’t had a single problem,” Tony said in defense of his robots.
Steve hip-bumped him as he headed to the refrigerator. “I’ve got some errands to run right now. I’ll tackle the laundry when I get back – you’re welcome to join me anytime.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass. But maybe takeout later?” Tony said. He poked harder at the coffee maker. It was not brewing fast enough and Tony needed an infusion of caffeine. Urgently.
Steve grabbed a Gatorade and shut the door. He leaned over and kissed Tony on the forehead. “Sounds good. See you later.”
“Stop with the PDA, we know you’re dating already,” Clint said.
“You’re just jealous, Bird Buddy,” Tony said.
Tony had had enough in the workshop. Usually he got a lot done when he had a free day. But today was an exercise in frustration and he ended up deeply dissatisfied with his progress on all his projects. Then his stomach rumbled a warning. The idea of sitting on the couch with Steve’s arm around his shoulders was far more enticing that trying to fix fried coding and failed welds.
“Where is Steve, Jarvis?” Tony asked.
“Captain Rogers is currently in the laundry room.”
Tony had no idea where the laundry room was. “Um, Jarvis?”
“The Laundry room is located on the gym floor, near the lockers, Sir.”
Tony eventually found the laundry room, easily mistaken for a mechanical room, tucked away in a corner. He’d passed it dozens of times when he went to the gym. Honestly, he’d never been in here before. He looked at the neat row of three sets of high-end washing machines and dryers with a long counter, extra large soaking sink, and a shelf covered with jugs, boxes and containers of various colors opposite. There was a pile of books and magazines on the end of the counter.
And Steve stood on a stool in the middle of the sea of unwashed clothes stringing up a clothesline. His jeans rode low on his hips as he reached up. Stepping down, he brushed his overgrown hair out of his eyes (he hadn’t had a chance to get it cut this week), and pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing acres of perfect skin and well-defined abs. Damn, he was gorgeous. Tony could watch him all day.
Tony said, “Still doing laundry? Admit it -- you want the laundry robots.”
Steve laughed. “I’m not afraid of a little bit of laundry.” He tossed his t-shirt to one side and bent down to gather up some clothes. He set his load on the counter and began to sort the load into organized piles of colors and whites.
“This seems so -- so -- caveman-like.”
“It’s just laundry, Tony,” Steve said with a smile. “I’m surprised you even know this room exists.”
“I’m surprised too. And I’ll be glad to forget about it.”
Steve bent over to scoop up more clothes. His loose-fitting jeans shifted lower, and it was perfectly obvious that Steve was not wearing any underwear. Tony wondered briefly if this was a show for him or if Steve always wore this when he did laundry. He didn’t care -- he had never found laundry more interesting.
As Steve put the clothes on the counter, he asked. “Want to help me sort?”
“Why do we need to sort clothes?”
“You’ve never actually done laundry before, have you?”
“I understand the basic principle -- you put a load of clothes into a machine, wait, and ….”
Steve laughed quietly. “So what do you do when the clothes are done?”
“Dry them. I told you -- it’s not that hard.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. But there’s a bit more to it.” Steve snagged more clothes.
Tony stepped up to the counter. And caught an enticing whiff of Steve’s aftershave. “So teach me about laundry.” He glanced over at Steve and the wisps of hair framing his face and deep blue eyes. Delicious. He leaned over to kiss Steve, who dodged his attempt.
Giving Tony an appraising look, Steve said, “Work first, kiss later.”
“Fine,” Tony groused. “Show me what to do.” As much as he adored Steve, Steve really could be Mr. No-Fun at times. How he could possibly focus on sorting laundry with the Peak of Human Perfection standing right next to him half-naked?
“Okay -- dark colors in that pile, bright colors here, and whites over there. Also keep an eye out for stains.” He tapped Tony’s shoulder. “Nice to have you here.”
“You better do something to keep my interest though.” Tony picked up a t-shirt covered in grass stains. “Genius philanthropist billionaire playboys have a lot of different things competing for their time.”
“Wait -- we need to pre-treat that. Grab the stain remover off the shelf.” Steve pointed to the shelf. “I’m in competition for your time now, am I?”
“You might be in the top ten distraction list. You need to up your game to get into the top three.” He waved his hand at Steve. “The way you’re dressed now is a good start.”
Turning to the shelf, Tony was perplexed by the vast array of laundry supplies. He made a guess and grabbed something that looked like stain remover and handed it to Steve.
“Ajax,” Steve said as he looked at the label on the container. “Wonder how this got here. Not a stain remover …”
“What about this?” Tony handed over a bottle filled with a thick yellowish liquid.
“Pine-sol. Also not a stain remover. Someone put these here by mistake.” Steve put the containers over by a mop and bucket in the corner. He took down a spray bottle.
“Wait -- how did you know --?”
“Hey, you know immediately when someone gives you a 5/16” socket wrench when you wanted the 3/16”. It’s all knowledge and practice.” He gave Tony a blinding beautiful smile. “Remind me sometime to tell you about Clint, Natasha’s favorite dress and bleach.”
Tony chuckled. “Sounds like it was bad. But he’s still alive so I’m guessing they worked it out.”
“So what’s my competition for your attention?” Steve asked he sprayed the stain.
Tony rested a hand on Steve’s bare hip, a finger tracing the top of the crease. Steve shifted closer and pressed his leg to Tony’s. “Hmmm, competition. My old armor, my current armor, and the armor I’m building tomorrow, for starters.”
“Stiff competition. But I’m used to winning.”
Sensing an opportunity, Tony snuck a quick grope of Steve’s fantastic ass. Steve immediately grabbed his hand, kissed it and firmly put it on the counter. “Later,” he promised in a low, seductive tone. Returning to the laundry, Steve threw multi-colored packets of detergent into each of the machines, loaded the clothes, and pushed start.
“That’s it? That’s not hard at all,” Tony pointed out.
“Admire my restraint in not making a joke about hard. But really, what now?”
“Wait. Then sort the loads into what goes into the dryers and what gets hung up. Start all over again until done. I usually fit in a workout between loads.”
“Hung up?” Tony snickered. “Maybe I can suggest a different type of workout.”
Steve arched his eyebrow. “I’m always interested in new types of workouts.” He swept a heated look up and down Tony. “Hmm, looks like we might have time to discuss your idea.”
Tony loved kissing Steve, sliding his hands into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, running his fingers along the solid jaw. Steve kissed like he fought -- taking no prisoners, pushing hard and passionately, until Tony felt like he was soaring high in the sky. Finally, Tony got his hands all over Steve’s broad shoulders and powerful biceps, all that warm skin, while Steve pressed kisses along Tony’s chin and jaw and nuzzled his neck.
Steve stepped back, still holding onto Tony. He yelped as Steve lifted him up and set him down on top of a washing machine. His hands on Tony’s hips, Steve stepped between his legs. Tony looked down into Steve’s bright eyes. “I like this,” he nearly growled.
“What do you like?” Steve ran his hands up and down Tony’s arms. He rucked up the t-shirt to get at Tony’s chest and nipples, pressing his thumbs into sensitive spots to wring gasps from Tony.
“The change in perspective.” Heat and desire rapidly pooled in his belly as he leaned down to kiss Steve. He had to touch more, find those spots again that made Steve lose it. Tony reached down to tug at the now-offensive jeans and slip his fingers under the loose waistband. “Damn you and your button fly,” Tony said in the shell of Steve’s ear.
“Come on -- can’t be hard for a genius like you to figure out.” Steve trailed a hand down Tony’s side to grope his ass and cup his cock through his jeans.
“You’re not playing fair at all,” Tony gasped out.
Steve chuckled. “I play to win.”
And the bastard rubbed harder. Tony slid off the machine so that he could get some leverage. Steve adjusted, crowding Tony against the machine and grinding his thigh between Tony’s legs. Pleasantly distracted and groaning, Tony plucked at the metal buttons and managed somehow to undo the jeans and tug them down.
“Do you always go commando when you do the laundry?” Tony asked. He kneaded Steve’s firm ass, his fingers catching on the denim.
Steve kissed him hard again. “There might have been a plan.”
“A plan? You went shopping without underwear?”
Steve moaned as Tony ran a hand along his most definitely hard cock. “Thought of you all morning. Wondered what you’d think if you knew I was out there in just jeans and a t-shirt.” Steve pulled and tugged at Tony’s tight jeans struggling to get them open without tearing the fabric. Tony loved it when Steve was desperate. He canted his hips to help Steve.
Tony glanced over at the door. The open door. Near the gym that all the team used for workouts and training.
He’d been so eager to get his hands on Steve, Tony had forgotten the laundry room door was open. Anyone could walk by and watch Steve with his hands down Tony’s open pants. God, he’d never been so hard -- thinking of Steve walking around New York in practically nothing and, now, with Tony’s hand and mouth all over him. And private Steve, so desperate and wanting and desiring of Tony that he didn’t care if anyone caught them like this.
Not that Tony cared if anyone caught them. Let ‘em watch as Steve sucked hickeys into his neck and worked Tony out of his underwear. His hips thrust against Steve’s hands. “Come on, soldier, show me what you got.”
Flushed red from his neck down to his crotch, Steve moaned and reached between them to wrap his broad hand around both their cocks. Tony’s hand joined his, smearing the pre-come all over. A few nice thrusts, Steve’s head heavy on his shoulder, his breath hot against Tony’s neck, skin sliding against each other as sweat broke out, and Tony lost himself in the sensations of friction and heat.
The machine behind him suddenly jolted and jerked. “What the hell --” Tony groaned.
“Spin cycle. Load’s gonna be done soon,” Steve growled. His hand moved faster up and down their cocks.
Tony dropped his chin on Steve’s head, held up by the vibrating machine at his back and Steve in front, working him hard. “God, Steve, keep doing that, oh my god,” he choked out. He was close, so close. He had to get release from the pressure building in his bones and under his skin. The machine’s vibration shook him all the way to his cock in Steve’s hot fist. The cool breeze from circulating air in the overly warm room hit his damp skin and reminded him how exposed they were.
“Harder, Steve, harder,” he chanted urgently.
Steve shuddered, went over the edge, and slowly kept moving his hand. Tony shouted out his release as he finally came all over Steve. He slumped against the machine and lazily wiped his hand over his now-sticky belly. “Love you,” he whispered as he looked up at a satisfied Steve. Steve lazily kissed him a few times. “Love you too.”
They separated when the machine came to shuddering halt. “Time to get back to work,” Steve said, parting reluctantly from Tony. He ran a couple of towels under the faucet of the soaking sink and handed one to Tony to clean up.
“I think this shirt’s a loss, Steve,” Tony said after dabbing at it for a minute.
Steve smiled. “Good thing it’s Laundry Day.”
“This whole thing wasn’t some master plan to get me to do Naked Folding,” Tony said dubiously. “Or seduce me into doing laundry for the rest of the afternoon?”
“I’m good at planning, but not that good,” Steve conceded. “But I’ve got a couple of hours of laundry ahead of me. And lots of spare time.”
Tony looked at the sea of clothes and laundry bags thick on the floor and back at Steve, looking glorious in low-riding jeans and his glowing face and skin.
“I could do with some lessons in folding among other things.” He pulled off his shirt. “Want to give me a few pointers?”
Steve groaned and smiled. “Shut the door first, genius.”