It starts one morning. Tony's nursing a blisteringly hot cup of coffee in one hand and his Stark Tablet in the other, seeing equations in the rising steam and numbers underneath his eyelids. He doesn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour, because normal people like to sleep at five am rather than stay up until then (why, Tony has no idea, all the best things happen at night). But when Steve walks in, shirt plastered to his back and hair damp with sweat from a morning run Tony can't even pretend the rush of heat to his groin is anything other than pure lust. However, he can pretend the tightening of his heart is clearly something arc reactor related, or at least he tries until Steve smiles up at him and the tightening increases to an unpleasant squeezing and oh motherfucking shit no.
Well that's that then.
Tony's never been one to do something half-heartedly. If he has an idea, his usual method is to bury himself within his workshop until the idea has been hammered into new armour, or a new robot or whatever his simply brilliant brain had thought up of.
And while he would love to bury himself in Steve until he'd hammered this idle thought out of him (and yes, he did choose those words simply for the innuendo, he’s Tony Stark after all) he thought romancing the 96 year old probably-still-a-virgin-considering-the-fact-he-blushed-when-he-said-sex super soldier and patron saint of America probably required more tact than his usual wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am style.
God, Tony actually wanted to be romantic (quit laughing Pepper). The thought alone was nauseating.
Now his only proper relationship hadn't really started in typical romantic fashion. Unless you counted asking your girlfriend having to watch you go into cardiac arrest whilst she tried to put a new arc reactor in your chest a good idea as a first date.
Well, Tony thought it was, but he doubted the world at large agreed.
He was sure there was probably an equation for this kind of shit. F(x) + y + z = successful date where x was the number of flowers required, y the amount of compliments you have to give and z the location. Unfortunately, going back to the first point where he had only had one real relationship (unfortunately, according to Pepper, the time with those Victoria Secret models on a yacht didn't count even though technically he spent three days with them and when you add the amount of woman present together that works out as a month long relationship), he didn't have enough data to put this theory into practice, and the idea of trying it out on anyone but Steve in order to gain more data made him feel ill.
Oh god the man had turned him into a monogamist and he hadn't even got into his star-spangled pants yet.
But in any case, back to the original problem. He liked Steve. Steve liked him. Well, he better like him, the alternative was impossible considering how much of a stud Tony was. (He didn't like to brag, but he did make Pepper frame those GQ Sexiest Man Awards even though she threatened to melt them down into a hammer to hit him over the head with).
Or perhaps Steve didn't like him. The guy was a poster boy for straight men everywhere. He probably would like sex in the missionary position with a girl who said "Goodness me!" when she came.
No it was impossible. Steve had to like him.
… Didn’t he?
Tony dismissed the idea of doing anything, and he managed to suppress his flirting tendencies around Cap (which, if anything, earned him more strange looks than not. Jeez, you try to do one good thing). In fact, he'd begun to think it was all his libido talking (even though every time he tried to go out to snag a bedmate he ended up coming home sober and shell-shocked when he had actually turned down the various woman's advances than take them on) and actually all the feelings and wet dreams he'd had on all things Steve were just a product of his slightly sleep-starved brain.
Until, of course, mid fight, Steve had vaulted over the side of a building in order to launch himself at one of the giant Corgis flattening New York (because, apparently, Loki had a sense of warped humour alongside an inferiority complex) and Tony's heart had leapt into his mouth as he watched the senior citizen take on the oversized puppy with an incredibly provocative manoeuvre involving lots of high kicks and swivelling of the pelvis.
"Well that was sexy." He couldn't help blurt out, forgetting the comm was on.
Cap looked up at him from where he stood and Tony could make out the grin, "Unnecessary chatter Iron Man."
"Hey how come everyone's watching Cap when he does something cool but no one ever sees my clearly superior skills when I do something amazing?" Clint playfully whined and Tony missed the opportunity to tell Cap that he hadn't meant it as a joke. Clearly his flirtatious, playboy background wasn't going to work in his favour.
Five days later Tony waltzed into the kitchen at six am to find Bruce sat in his usual spot, writing a formula down frantically onto the tabletop. He looked up and turned apologetic when he realised who it was "Sorry Tony, I couldn't sleep and I started thinking... Well you know how that goes."
Tony clapped the man on the back, "Bruce I wrote the BOOK on insomnia." Shuffling towards the coffee machine he smiled when a piping hot cup of Italian roast was already there. "Jarvis, whoever created you is a genius."
"That would be you sir."
Sitting in companionable silence for the best part of an hour, speaking sometimes to question lines of algorithms written in Bruce's messy scrawl, it wasn't until the doctor made a move to leave that Tony was struck with an idea. Why not just ask for advice?
"Brucey, Bruce my lovely, fantastic friend." He began in soothing tones, to which Bruce's eyes narrowed.
"What do you want?" He asked with a long suffering sigh.
"Why do you think I want anything?" Tony pouted. Bruce's pointed stare caused him to shift awkwardly.
"Well, hypothetically, say there is a man ... or woman!" He added hurriedly, "I hypothetically enjoy the presence of and want to hypothetically move things further. How would suggest I hypothetically do it? This being hypothetical as normally I obviously wouldn't need any advice since I am Casanova in the flesh. But I'm... gathering data! That's it, I'm gathering data. That's all. Nothing suspicious. All hypothetical."
Bruce's eyebrows had arched higher and higher throughout the babble they were practically in his hairline by the end of it.
"Well... hypothetically," he spoke slowly, "I'd probably start the same way most normal people do and ask the woman ... or man... out on a date."
Of course a date that was so obvious! "Thanks Bruce, that's perfect - all the data I need." with that he rushed off, leaving a very confused Dr Banner in his wake.
"Huh." He murmured, before turning back to his equations.
The date idea sucked. Upon offering to take Steve out, the surprised man had agreed happily and Tony booked out the whole of his favourite restaurant in order to truly have a romantic dinner for two.
Of course, because Loki was the biggest cockblocker in the fucking galaxy and the universe hated him, they'd only stepped over the threshold before being besieged by a group of 50 foot tall slugs and the closest Tony got to Cap's white boxer briefs was seeing a brief glimpse of them when the man burst out his shirt and stepped quickly into the Captain America suit (which trust me, was a scene Tony had thankfully recorded within his Iron Man suit already enfolding around him as later wankbank material - he was going to get something out of this evening to go away with if it killed him).
"Good call Tony, did you get a tip off or something?" Steve later asked him whilst shaking slime off his shield. Tony could have screamed with frustration.
"Tony, my comrade, I hear from our fantastic doctor you are looking for advice on how to win the hand of a maiden!” Thor roared jovially as they began to ready for a spar in the practice room. Tony was momentarily surprised, which meant Thor easily overthrew him in his first move. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he was staring up from the ground. It was the element of surprise which caused him to lose, not the fact his opponent was a demi-god whose arms probably weighed more in muscle than Tony’s whole body.
“My fair Jane,” and oh my god was Thor crying at just the thought of Jane Foster? Puppy love at its finest, “Won me over by hitting me with her truck not once, but twice! It takes true skill to surprise a man such as myself!” Thor nodded sagely as if he wasn’t mad for loving a woman who had hit him with her four by four, unable to resist the urge to flex his muscles as he told the tale as if it would make it more impressive.
What the hell he had no better option.
“What would you suggest then for me big man?”
Thor looked delighted he asked, “Well, my dear friend, on Asgard we do not do subtlety. Perhaps hold a feast in his honour, nay hold a tournament,” the large man began to get excited and animated, and Tony focused half his concentration on exactly where he was flailing around with Mjolnir, “Or we often take it upon ourselves to show our strength through a quest – perhaps climb a mountain and bring him back the teeth of a three-horned tribakerak – you must have those here of course?” the man questioned, a blond lock of hair falling into his eyes.
Tony had to wonder whether this was truly his life, taking advice from a demi-god whose best idea was to find some tribeawhatsit and bring back the teeth for Steve. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Captain I-starch-my-pants America being impressed he killed an animal and would probably suggest donating to the World Wide Fund for Nature in its demise.
“Thanks, I’ll uh, keep that in mind.”
Thor beamed, “See that you do my friend.”
Because Tony was desperate and just really really really wanted the Captain in his bed this very instant so he could find out whether that blush went below his neck, he ended up taking Thor’s advice.
… Well obviously not all of it, Earth didn’t have tribakerak’s (Tony had checked). But the whole “showing off strength” thing wasn’t a bad idea, and Tony was never one to miss a chance to have everyone “ooh” and “aah” at his mad skills (though he didn’t know if Natasha did emotion, the best he got was an eyebrow quirk). Who knows, maybe he’d confuse Steve into bed with algorithm after algorithm.
So he spent a week in the workshop developing a new add-on to the suit sure to blow everyone’s minds – Pulse Bolts that gain energy the further they travel and just as he was designing the finishing touches, the world actually throws him a bone and unleashes Doombots in downtown Manhattan whilst the Fantastic Four are on holiday. He waits for the perfect moment when he knows Cap is watching to throw everything into the repulsors, which in his mind will destroy the doombot over 200 feet away, following which him and the glorious Captain will make out under the firework of broken metal – and he has a moment to watch the beauty of his creation coming together, slowly gaining speed and light, before his screen starts flashing red and screaming glitches of code in his face.
“Sir, the repulsor is taking energy straight from the arc reactor.”
Before the world goes black, Tony has a moment to kick himself and think see Tony this is why you can’t have nice things.
“What on earth were you thinking?!”
When Tony opens his eyes, he’s still on the field. The doombots seem to have been dealt with (though he can hear Thor booming something about unworthy opponents so he imagines he’s still rounding up the last dregs) and it’s all a bit too bright and bit too loud and way too painful. Steve’s hunched over him, cowl off and frown on. It’s the disapproving one. The one that says I’m Captain America and I did not spend 70 years in deep freeze to watch you be an ass that seems to be reserved for Tony alone. Which, in a way, is an achievement - that he can piss off the usually unflappable man. Either that or a slightly suicidal past time.
“In the middle of battle is not a smart place to be trying out new technology Stark! The stupid repulsor drained your life source according to Jarvis do you have a death wish?” Steve’s voice was low and thrumming with anger. His right hand was clenched white-knuckled around Tony’s left shoulder, and Tony idly noted the fact the metal of the suit was starting to bend slightly under the pressure.
“You could have died.” Steve whispered in a ghost of a voice, “You could have died.” He repeated, before shaking himself and standing up slowly before his voice returned to normal to bark out an order, “Alright. Let’s get him to medical!”
It hits him when he’s lying staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep and writing down a line of code on his arm in sharpie since he’s just thought of how to fix the glitch and he has nothing better to write it on, that he should try asking the team member most alike himself. Ignoring the fact he is beginning to see the first slivers of sunlight through the blinds at his window, he sits bolt upright in bed and asks Jarvis to call Clint’s room.
“…Hello?” a sleepy voice answers after about three tries.
“Clint, it’s Tony. How would you seduce a woman, or a man for that matter? What’s an appropriate wooing procedure? I mean, you managed to survive Natasha, that’s gotta count for something right?”
There’s a silence at the other end of the phone that stretches before Clint’s sleep-rough voice answers, “Stark, are you calling me at oh-fuck-it’s-early to ask me how I would “woo” someone?”
“Well of course, try keep up with the conversation.” Tony sighs exasperatedly.
Sounds follow of the phone shifting and Clint murmuring I will kill that fucker, before a different voice comes to the phone and it is definitely not rough or sleepy and Tony has visions of Phil, his first name is Agent, as the voice says “Stark, do me a favour, and ask this question another time when it’s not four am.”
The line goes dead and Tony has to sit still for a minute, stunned and slightly horrified by the visions that pairing is developing in his way too imaginative brain.
The thin thread that was holding Tony’s sanity together finally snaps, and it happens when the Avengers get a call from Fury, requiring their assistance at Central Park because apparently there were some giant toasters about trying to fry people to a crisp and the Avengers had to go sort it out because apparently this was Tony’s life.
Or at least, he was about to go help, suiting up, when Steve strode up to him and frowned.
“No Tony, you’ve still not recovered, you’re sitting this one out. Don’t make me lock you in.” His voice is firm, and Tony is so furious that someone else is making the call, the right call, that he can’t bite back the bitter tirade.
“Are you serious Cap - is this some sort of dominant side of you coming out? What are you going to do if I refuse, spank me?” Tony’s up in Steve’s face now, the air practically sizzling between them and Tony can see the beginnings of a furiously angry blush spreading across Steve’s cheeks.
“Not even if you begged for it.” Steve’s voice is low and oh my god suddenly Tony’s is the most turned on he’s even been and thank god the suit can hide that because he doesn’t think he has it in him to explain to Steve about the third guest who has arrived to their little fight without just manhandling the man to the floor and showing him he’s in fact really really good at begging.
“You coming Captain?” the comm, switched on now, buzzes in both of their ears and the moment’s broken as if it’s been cut in half by a pair of scissors.
“Yup on my way.”
They bring back Tony a really cute, shrunken sentient toaster as an apology.
Tony sulks in public and pretends he’s not interested but the minute he’s left alone marvels at the little angry face on the side of the machine, and introduces it to the rest of the bots.
But that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven them.
And so he tries to flamboyantly sulk. He sighs and drape himself over chairs as if to say look at me I’m Tony Stark and you made me sit out today how could you, you are such horrible people I bet you drown puppies as a hobby but it didn’t seem to be working and Natasha threw a spoon at him when he flung himself over the edge of her seat so Tony decided it would be best for his survival if he decided to be the better man and allow it to pass. What was the saying, water over the bridge, under the bridge? He should ask Bruce, he was into all of that positive / negative aura bullshit.
Everyone sits down, exhausted, and Tony feels a rush of warmth for these people who have stepped into his life and made themselves at home within it with no judgement. He hurries to put on a movie, and laughs when Jarvis decides on Some Like It Hot, which begins a heated discussion on the fact that Jack Lemmon’s legs look better in tights than most women’s do as the opening credits roll, all the while Thor asking “Who are these people and what do they like hot?”
Bruce goes and makes popcorn as the film rolls, and Tony or Clint automatically begin to offer up quick rundowns of references which shoot over Thor and Steve’s heads without them even having to ask and the whole room goes silent when Natasha laughs, a soft and completely innocent giggle as Tony Curtis is sat fully clothed in the bath, but no one comments on it and they move on.
This little broken family is Tony’s world and he would die to protect it. And it is then, as he watches Steve’s outline illuminated by the screen, cool blue eyes crinkled at the edges as he throws his head back to laugh, that he decides to take his feelings for this man and bury them deep inside himself. This family is perfect the way it is and he’ll be damned if he damages it all because of some silly feelings he’s sure to grow out of.
He doesn’t grow out of them. The next few months are agony as Tony increasingly falls further and further for the Star Spangled Man one smile at a time, retreating into his workshop whenever they are not on a mission and spending as little time as possible in the practice room because there is only so much sweaty Steve one arc reactor can take. The others begin to notice, and Tony feels like he’s just slapped a kitten in the face everytime he sees Thor’s face drop as he declines yet another invite to watch the popcorn pop in the microwave (as Thor considers this “an event of true Midgardian sorcery!”).
But this is better than the alternative of watching Steve’s face drop in horror at Tony’s declaration of love for him before letting him down gently with that old chestnut “it’s not you, it’s me, I’m just not wired that way” that Tony himself has used on many occasions.
It isn’t until one morning that anything stops him wallowing. After his seventh cup of coffee he realises with a start that Natasha has been sat beside him the whole time. Tony does a flail-and-turn in surprise which results in coffee everywhere. Natasha just watches him fall to the floor with a squawk giving him a half-smirk (which, for Natasha, is a fucking grin).
"Jeez Natasha, warn a guy would you?" Exasperation coloured his voice, though it was well-humoured.
"If I warned people I was nearby all the time that would render my day job defunct Stark." She spoke, tone deadpan, only betrayed by a slight quiver of laughter.
"Well unless SHIELD has me back on the 'too attractive for mankind, we must kill him' list at least give me a bit of notice." He whined.
"And miss watching you make an ass out of yourself? Not a chance." Clint spoke from the doorway, looking at Tony with a frown wrinkling his face.
"Hold up, two of you at once? You know what they say - too many assassins near the intended victim spoil the body and all that." He grinned at the pair, who exchanged a slightly despairing gaze with one another before looking at him.
"So what's going on with you Stark?" Natasha spoke softly, as you would to a frightened animal.
"Nothing aside being all around badass, wooing the ladies and inventing something new every minute. You know - the usual for someone of my calibre." He tried to smile, but the joke fell flat and the kitchen went silent. Natasha's eyes turned pitying, and Tony's stomach balked. Nope. He was not nearly drunk or depressed enough for this conversation.
"Much as I'd love to stick around and talk about why boys and girls suck whilst plaiting each other's hair and painting our nails pink, I have places to be ... People to impress, that sort of thing." Tony garbled before making a dash for the door, leaving a bemused pair of assassins watching his retreat.
"I think it's time we took action." Natasha said, voice firm, and Clint nodded his agreement.
"There is only so much stupid I can tolerate."
"Tony have you been avoiding me?" A familiar voice sliced through Tony's concentration and Tony almost groaned with frustration. He really really did not need to be reminded of the unbelievable, improbable and inconvenient attraction he had for the man in front of him. Steve standing there in a white muscle tee and slim fitting jeans (Pepper had to be stopped, he knew she only took him out shopping so she could ogle) was doing absolutely nothing to stop the heat curl low in the pit of his stomach.
"Why would you think that Cap?" Good call Tony keep it civil, keep it Avengers related maybe that way you can pretend you don’t want to jump this guy’s bones.
"I've not seen you in weeks and every time I try catch up with you to talk Jarvis blocks my access codes." Steve's lips curl into a frown and Tony feels like he just drop-kicked a kitten.
"Really? Must be a glitch, I've just been ridiculously busy - a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist doesn't get much sleep you know." He chides gently, and Steve's face clears.
"You're right, of course, I'm just being silly." Steve shakes his head as if to clear a thought and continues, "Well, would you care to go out for some dinner tonight? My treat." Steve's smile is warm and Tony's gut crunches. He can't. He refuses to go out with the man of his dreams only to watch him blush and stutter over a lovely girl they meet at the bar. He might be able to suppress his feelings, but not to that extent.
"Sorry Cap I've got a ... date." Tony finishes the sentence, and Steve visibly recoils.
"Ah." Steve clears his throat and makes an attempt to smile, “Have a good night then. I'll just leave you to it." and the super soldier practically sprints out the workshop.
Tony could cry. The only date he has tonight is one with his right hand and a bunch of recorded footage from the practice room.
"You are a complete idiot you know." Natasha barks at him one morning when it's just Tony and herself out on the balcony he de-assembles the suit on watching the rest of the world wake up.
He had been notified by Jarvis half an hour ago, as he was mid-rant at Dummy that no, grease oil was not an edible ingredient to a milkshake, that Miss Romanov was out on the terrace by herself. Grabbing two mugs of coffee from the kitchen he went out to join her, and for a while the pair sat in complete silence as the sun slowly began to stretch out across the sky.
Natasha's eyes had looked red and haunted when he first stepped out, but Tony didn't ask. He knew everyone in the team had their own fair share of demons.
"Excuse me?" Tony asked, confused.
"Why do you think so little of yourself?" Natasha's voice was acidic and knife sharp, "Do you seriously have so little self-worth that you think Steve is beyond your reach?"
Tony spat out the mouthful of coffee he had just drank, watching it stretch out into the air in front of him before dropping like a stone some forty storeys down.
"Where on earth did you get that idea?" Tony spluttered, face red.
Natasha stopped him with a quelling look, "Oh I'm sorry, was it meant to be kept secret?" She spoke sarcastically, "Or is your 'hypothetical dating data' for the next model you plan to bring home? You men are so oblivious."
Tony, up until this point, had refrained from asking advice from Natasha. Mainly because, well, you didn't ask dating advice from a woman whose code name is the Black Widow unless you possessed a death wish. He's seen the National Geographic Channel, he knew what happened to that particular insect’s better halves.
“Tony, have you ever thought about the fact he is just as into you as you are to him? And all this time you are spending on your ass moping and whining about your life – which is pathetic by the way – you could be spending with him? Because seriously I don’t know how much more of this I can take and I’ve begun sharpening my knives again as a hobby. Take that as a warning.” Natasha’s voice was firm, brooking no questions, before she got up and silently padded away.
Tony had stopped listening past he is just as into you as you are to him.
Steve. Interested. In Tony.
The arc reactor appeared to be suffering from a metal equivalent of an arrhythmia.
Tony would like, in hindsight, to say he wooed Steve with elegance and style and was so suave about it the people who were just in the vicinity swooned. In reality, it was probably one of the most unsophisticated moments of his life. And being a non-stop drunk all through his twenties meant he’d done some pretty unsavoury stuff.
Tony was trying to wrestle an error out of the Mark V’s coding having been benched on the latest mission due to getting body slammed by a giant duck last mission (fucking Loki) when Steve strolled through the door. Jarvis must hate him since he’d specifically asked this morning if the man could be blocked out the workshop until further notice.
“Tony? I’m sorry to bother you but my suit’s torn and I was wondering if you could fix it? If not I can go to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Steve was hunched over, clearly nervous, but Tony had lost focus past the word ‘torn’ and all he could see was the expanse of shoulder bare and covered in a faint sheen of sweat and the words came out in a rush.
“Dammit Steve do you seriously have to be this perfect I mean how am I supposed to get over you when you are all up in my personal space with your muscles and your … face.” Tony spat out the word flailing and wildly gesturing to the man in front of him, ignoring the way Steve jolted in surprise, “It’s hard enough being in love with a guy who literally is perfect in every way but why must you flaunt it in front of me coming in here in ripped armour when I just want to rip it off what even is that?” Tony’s voice climbed until it was near hysterical.
“Seriously you’d think I was masochistic or something –“
“Not that that’s something I’d say no to, if you were offering.”
Tony blinked, Steve was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and hope, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”
Oh what the hell Tony your cover is shot now anyway, “Were you not listening?”
Steve full out beamed and oh my god it was practically blinding, “You idiot.” He murmured, with no bite, and dragged Tony to him lips meeting in the middle and ohholyfuckingchristhe’skissingstevethisisnotadrill.
As first kisses go, it’s pretty shit. Their teeth clash and Tony has to stifle a curse when his tongue hits one of Steve’s molars painfully. But then Steve smiles against his mouth and it’s suddenly the most natural thing in the world, to be standing in the middle of Iron Man holograms with Steve in his suit and Tony practically covered in motor oil grease necking like teenagers. Tony’s left hand curls up towards the base of Steve’s neck and the growl that he gets in reaction sends a lightning bolt of lust into his groin. Steve shuffles him back until his spine hits the countertop and without detaching themselves from one another Steve lifts him up onto the surface and Tony has to grab hold of both of Steve’s biceps just to feel them flex as they carry his weight and if that isn’t the hottest thing ever he doesn’t know what is.
Steve pulls away to rest his forehead against Tony’s and laughs slightly to himself.
Tony would make the effort to feel insulted but he’s just so happy he can’t think straight, “What?”
“Natasha.” Steve giggled, a completely innocent sound that should not have turned Tony on even more.
“Okaaay I don’t care what we talk about, we can talk about Natasha if you like.”
Steve smiled at him. “She slapped some sense into me yesterday, is all.”
Tony blinked, “You too?”
“Think she must have got fed up with us both.” Steve grinned, noses touching, before Tony makes up the distance in between their lips and greedily takes everything the super soldier can offer him.
It is unbearably hot, Steve standing between his legs and rutting up into the space between with a filthy groan and why Tony ever thought Steve would be an awkward man between the sheets he had no idea, because the man currently pawing at his shirt and kissing him senseless was not some blushing virgin.
“Steve, Steve,” he whimpered pathetically against the Captain’s lips.
“What do you need?” Steve replied, voice husky, backing off.
“This, you, shirt now – please” Tony would have been embarrassed at how desperate he sounded, but he knew that Steve felt the same, if the rip of fabric and ping of buttons was any indication. “Hey, that was a nice shirt.” He murmured in half-hearted protest.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” Steve smiled and bent his head to lick and nip at Tony’s chest, an action met with a groan and Tony’s fist in Steve’s hair.
“Oh my god” Tony bit out, sensations completely overwhelming him and if he wasn’t fully turned on before, he was now, erection straining at his trousers.
“Do you mind, if I?” Steve looked up, biting his lip, so unbelievably seductive and he wasn’t even aware of the power he had over Tony. It took a moment to register just what the man was asking as his brain was scrambled with desire and need. Steve’s face was illuminated by the glow of Tony’s arc reactor, and he followed his eyes to where Steve’s hands hovered, hesitant, over the cool metal and his heart clenched with way too many feelings. Unsure if he’d be able to voice an affirmative, he grabbed Steve’s hand with his free one and planted it in the middle of the reactor. Steve sucked a breath in between his teeth before idly skimming the steel, running over his fingers where skin and metal meet and Tony felt such a rush of love for the man he had to swallow back a slightly pained sob.
“Later, I will pay a lot more attention to that, so much that everytime you think about it you blush.” Steve growled and holy mother of god if Tony had definitely not had a kink attached to the reactor before that, he did now, “But right now I just want to see you.”
Steve scrabbling at the zipper of Tony’s jeans while he still licked and laved Tony’s chest like a pro left Tony only able to whine and scrabble for Steve’s back, his brain completely silent for once and the quiet was glorious and left Tony as a mass of seething want and craving.
Finally Tony’s hateful jeans came off, along with his underwear, and he was left perched on the countertop completely naked.
“One of us,” he forced out, “Is wearing way too many clothes. Not that I wouldn’t seriously enjoy debauching Captain America,” Steve looked up from where he now knelt between Tony’s knees, “Oh my god that’s a kink, you have a costume kink, what did I do to deserve you. But right now I just want Steve.”
Steve bit his lip and nodded, shucking the whole costume in one clean sweep and wow he went commando underneath how was Tony ever going to be able to focus on a mission.
Steve hesitated a moment before taking him in hand, and Tony couldn’t help but buck up into Steve’s fingers, muttering a curse, “You… are evil. I thought you were innocent.”
Steve smirked, “I did some research.”
Tony keened at the thought of Steve sitting up late at night doing that kind of research, and before he completely lost his train of thought managed to choke out, “Jarvis… turn the … oh fuck… turn the cameras off.”
“As you wish sir.”
“I mean seriously how oblivious can two people be?”
“You are talking about Cap and Stark here – those two must be the two most oblivious people on the planet.” Clint nursed a cup of coffee, wincing as Natasha prodded at the stitches on his arm, “Natasha that hurrtttttsssss” he whined playfully, “How am I going to impress the ladies with my muscles if I can’t flex?”
“Well hopefully they’ve come to some sort of reconciliation, next time I have to talk some sense I’m using my knives.”
“According to the heat signatures and recorded audio within the workshop, I can confirm that there has been a resolution.”
“Jarvis I really didn’t need that image in my head!” Bruce complains, whilst Clint grins and Natasha shakes her head.
“Oh my god Jarvis please tell me you recorded it, I wonder who tops, please tell me it’s Cap.”
“What does ‘top’ mean? Is it some sort of gift?” Thor questions aloud and before Clint can’t answer Natasha slaps a hand over his mouth.