"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Steve spat, cracking a silence that had been growing heavier and more ominous for hours.
Tony flinched at the sound, dripping molten solder onto the workbench, the circuit board, and his jeans. "FUCK!" he yelped, bolting upright so the metal would bead and roll off instead of burning right through to his leg. "What the hell, Cap?" he rounded on Steve with a snarl, his heart still pounding, and all of that adrenaline dumping straight into aggression, because how was he supposed to work with Captain Disapproving Face going off like a grenade behind him? "Give a guy a warning shot first, okay?"
Steve's head came up, the savage glower fading at once into confusion. "What?" he blinked, dropping his feet off the ragged workshop sofa and sitting up. Then he noticed Tony's scowl and colored pink. "Oh. Sorry, Tony. Wasn't talking to you. Or about you, I promise."
He looked so ridiculously earnest that Tony's defensive indignation evaporated out from under him, leaving only a few petty grumbles for him to go on. "Yeah well, way to ruin the guitar solo," he groused, electing not to mention the circuitboard, or his jeans. Call it largesse -- Tony was a charitable guy, after all. "Angus Young deserves better, you know."
"Sorry," was all Steve had to say, though the blush still rode high on his cheeks, camouflaging the freckles that summer brought out on that fair Irish skin. Hard to say whether that was a shame or not, so Tony didn't try. He set his soldering iron against the sponge with a sizzle, trusting Jarvis to turn it off. "So now that we've established my innate and enduring innocence -- and don't you roll your eyes at me, mister -- what's with the outburst?"
Steve cut a brief and filthy scowl back to his laptop, then rolled his eyes again -- this time at the screen. "It's nothing really," he shook his head, like he was trying to shed something viscous and nasty smelling that had just been dumped down the back of his shirt. "Just read something online, is all."
"Oh, Cap," Tony tutted, fiercely wrestling his budding grin into something more like sympathy. "You didn't go on 4chan again, did you? You know that never ends well."
This time there was nothing little about Steve's eye roll, and it was definitely aimed Tony's way. "That was one time, Tony," he said, but Tony could tell he was hiding a flashback flinch at the memory of it. "Anyway, this isn't anything like that. It's just a stupid little..." he flicked his fingers at the screen, as if to drive away a pesky fly. But even that one glance was enough to bring the Disapproving Face back out again.
"You know what? It really is stupid," he decided, closing the computer and standing up. "I have more important things I should be doing. Sorry I bothered you, Tony."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tony protested, lurching to his feet and scrambling to plant himself squarely in Steve's way as he made for the door. "You're leaving? We have a thing! You can't just run off in the middle of a project like that!"
Steve actually hesitated at that, which Tony tried not to find adorable. "This is a project?" he asked, cutting a dubious glance at the coffee and bagels he'd brought down with him that morning. "I thought it was just a supply run."
"Sure," Tony nodded, "Which is totally why you always bring your sketchbook, or... or that thing you don't know any better than to call a computer with you when you come and hang out." He elected not to mention how said supply runs always happened when the rest of the team had decided there was a new Somebody that Steve ought to be dating. Tony'd been on the receiving end of too much matchmaking to play in on that game, even when the Avengers started treating it like a team sport. And besides. If that made Steve think of Tony's workshop as a Safe Space, well, how was that a bad thing?
"We have a routine, Cap," he explained, tugging on Steve's elbow just in case the man could be steered back to his place, "You show up, feed and water me at regular intervals and keep the sofa from floating off, and I pretend you're not here while I get my genuis on."
"So nice to be welcome," Steve grumbled, scowling, but not pulling away. "Look, I should really be working on those training eval-"
"Meanwhile," Tony said still towing him back toward the sofa. "Meanwhile, we share space for hours at a time, without even fighting," he pointed out with what he thought was a credible attempt at a friendly jostle. "We're totally working up to having a civil conversation without a mediator, dude! And you're gonna set the whole agenda back by weeks if you run away on a thin little 'it's-not-you-it's-me' excuse now, Rogers!"
Ah, there went the spark in those blue eyes. "I'm not running away," Steve rose to it with a quirk of his lips that obviously wanted to be a smile. "I just have work of my own to do, is all. The reports are due by Friday, and I should be handling them instead of wasting my time with-"
"Oh, so I'm a waste of your time now?" Tony challenged, unfair, unreasonable, and not even a little bit sorry if it could get him his way.
"I said it wasn't you-"
"But I thought everything was about me!" Okay, so that might've been an overstep there, going by the glare. Tony met it with his biggest, toothiest grin though, and dug in all the harder. "Look, Capslock, I just mean that you're helping me overcome my antisocial narcissism in favor of team harmony, right? And that's supposed to be a Thing. Didn't Fury say that was a Thing, back when he was still talking to us? I don't really remember, because all the yelling starts to sound the same after awhile, but I'm pretty sure my narcissism and team harmony were in there somewhere."
Steve chuckled as though surprised by it, and let Tony herd him back into place. "Yeah, I remember something about your narcissism too," he said, shaking his head as he surrendered to the grin.
"Come on," Tony said, totally not doing a happy dance of victory as he pushed Steve at the cushions. "Sit down and tell Uncle Tony all about how someone's wrong on the internet."
"It's stupid, I told you," Steve said, allowing the shove, and moving over to make room for Tony to sit beside him. "It's not even a real thing."
"And yet you've been sitting there scowling at it like it insulted your mom for the past what, two hours now?" Tony challenged. Because really, even Tony had enough basic self preservation instinct to be aware of it when the atomic mass of the Disapproval Face began to reach 2.5 Earths.
"Three hours and forty five minutes by my count, Sir," Jarvis corrected, which brought that surprised blush back to Steve's cheeks again.
"Yeah, so not even you can take Fox Commentators for that long," Tony nudged, poking at the sealed laptop. "So spill. What is it? You trip over one of those photomanip sites where they make your chest three feet deep and your head the size of a teacup?"
"Uh... no," Steve replied, looking truly alarmed for a second. "That's not a real thing, is it?"
Tony beamed. "Oh, honey, that ain't even the half of it! Hey Jarvis, bring up that fusion shot with the lingerie model's ass-"
"Belay that, Jarvis," Steve countermanded with a glare.
"No, really, you gotta see this shit," Tony insisted, giddy with anticipation of the frankly amazing color he expected Cap to turn when he got a look at the magical, manic mindfruits to be had in the darker corners of the internet.
"Tony," Steve said, catching Tony's hand out of the air and enfolding it inside one of his own. "Pushing."
"Steve," Tony answered, clapping his other hand on top of Steve's, and giving it a shake. "I'm Tony Stark, have we met?"
And that, at last, got him to laugh. "Point," he declared, shaking his hand free and sitting back with a little more ease. The move slid a nice length of muscular thigh along Tony's knee, so he wasn't complaining at all. "But if we need to have the 'No means no' talk again..."
Tony put both hands up at once. "Nope! Message received, loud and clear; no photoshopped naked woman-ass on bizarrely distorted pictures of Steve Rogers aka Captain America are to be projected on the holosystem in front of said picture's unwary model." The truly hilarious part was that Tony could just tell that Steve was going to be googling for the image as soon as he'd taken his adorable little craptop somewhere Jarvis couldn't monitor. It was like he somehow thought that using obsolete, antiquated, non-Stark computer tech somehow made it more difficult for Tony to hack it or something. So. Fucking. Cute.
And on that point, Tony put on his very best 'you know you love me' face and gave the laptop a quick pat. "So spill -- what's offended the Moral Center today then, Captain?" he asked.
Steve gave him an unimpressed look, then glanced at the laptop and sighed. "I don't know, Tony. It's pretty..."
"Weird?" Tony prompted, not too eagerly. "Freaky? Bizarre? Kinky?" He leaned in close and whispered, "Disgusting?"
"Annoying," Steve growled back. "And I gotta say, you're not making much of a case for yourself here."
"Relax, Cap. I'm just-"
"I mean it's bad enough everyone thinks I'm some kinda virginal prude," he rolled on, eyes flashing indignation, cheeks burning even through one hell of a high-test Disapproving Face, "Like I could grow up in the streets of Brooklyn, and do a turn in the damn Army without learning about sex. Only now," he waved a big hand over the laptop, and whatever site he'd hidden inside it, "I'm apparently pig-ignorant, clumsy, and stupid to boot! Sure, I might not be an engineering genius, or hold PhDs like Bruce-"
"Actually, I hold more doctorates than-"
"But for Pete's sake, I'm not a God damned idiot!" A muscle flexed in Steve's jaw as he finally spared a glance Tony's way, hurt not quite entirely hidden in the angry, cautious blue of his eyes.
It was the hurt that drew Tony up. He hadn't seen that in Steve's eyes since those first days on the Helicarrier, when Loki, Fury and their own shitty lives had sent the two of them out for each other's blood on first meeting. It wasn't aimed at him this time, sure, but there was a part of Tony which still flinched back from the sight of it, remembering how deadly Steve's aim had been once he'd slammed that hurt down behind the icy walls of contempt and hit back at Tony's barbs. There was another part of Tony though, the one that was absolute shit for self-preservation, and even worse for respecting emotionally charged situations, which was just rolling around in unbridled lust over the intensity pouring off the man. Because Steve Rogers in the grip of just about any sort of passion at all was, to put it bluntly, a thing of goddamned beauty, and Tony was only human, after all.
"When a genius calls you stupid it's one thing -- I've had two years to figure out you don't really mean anything by it. But it's a bit much when it comes from people who don't even know me, I guess," Steve finished with a sigh as Tony reminded himself to breathe, to nod sympathetically, and not to adjust his fly.
Then the actual words sunk in, and Tony practically forgot about his burgeoning semi in favor of outrage. "They... wait, what?" Tony gaped. "You're not stupid! I don't call you -- who the fuck said you're stupid?" He shoved to his feet, adrenaline and indignation overwhelming his ability to stay put. Steve flinched back, blinking as Tony rounded on him with an accusing finger. "Was it a reporter? Which paper? Or... No, I bet it was one of those shitty little newsblog sites, wasn't it? Well, op-ed or not, that shit right there is Defamation of Character in my world! Maybe Slander if my legal department's earning their hourly."
"Tony, you can't just-"
"Jarvis, ring down to Legal, and have-"
"Sir, may I remind you that Ms. Potts has vetoed your last three attempts to purchase news agencies and Web Domains in just such circumstances as these?" The AI cut in smoothly. "I believe her exact words were 'how about if you just stop being awful in public, and leave censoring the media to the Kochs, okay, Tony?" And it was a mean touch, the way Jarvis played it in Pepper's voice, wasn't it?
"That was different!" Tony insisted, pacing furiously. "This is Cap! The Man with the Plan, and the shiny public face of the Avengers. If someone's taking clearly spurious potshots at him like this, then we need to know who's behind it! I mean, it could be HYDRA, trying to undermine-"
"Tony, you really can't-" Steve caught at Tony's sleeve as he paced by, but Tony would not be stayed.
"It's fine, Cap, I got this. This is why we keep the high powered lawyers on retainer."
"No, it isn't!" Steve yelped, snatching open his laptop and thrusting it at Tony's face him. "Jeez, Tony! You can't sue anybody over this...it's just a dumb ol' story, see?"
Still spoiling for carnage, Tony paused, looked, and saw words. Just words. The screen was full of text; black, against a white ground, no photos, no sidebar links, no adds, no tabs, just... lots of adjectives. Glistening pecs? Clear azure eyes? Chocolate orbs? What the actual hell?
Tony squinted at the URL, refusing to blush with every ounce of his willpower -- at least all that he could spare from the giddy panic that was surging up from his balls as he realized. "Archive of our... Steve, is this fan fiction?"
Cap went pink again, but nodded defiantly. "Sure. It's called 'RPS', I think. Clint showed me the site last week. Some of the stuff's actually pretty darned good, but this one's just-"
"Clint?" Tony choked out, terrified and appalled as he sunk back into the sofa like he had a pneumatic leak in his knees. "Clint fucking Barton sent you to a Real Person Slash site?" A part of him was impressed though -- that was a level of trolling that Tony wasn't sure even he would have had the balls to pull on their Captain. Another part of him kind of wanted to feed the archer to an animal for springing something like that on a poor, unsuspecting, innocent, pure as the driven... army-veteran-who-grew-up-in-Brooklyn-and-knew-about-sex-yessir-youbetcha-holy-shit-ain't-that-one-for-the-spank-bank Steve that way.
Said poor, unsuspecting etc. Steve only gave a shrug though, and then a scowl at the text on the screen. "Sure, I guess, though there's other things too. Got some good ones based on literature, and some on history. And there's a whole bunch based on Detective Comics that are pretty great." He snorted. "Some of these kids do better with Batman than the mook who's writing it now, that's for sure, and don't even get me started on Wonder Woman."
"Wonder..." Tony gave his head a vigorous shake, not quite dislodging the entirely inappropriate mental picture of Cap getting started on Wonder Woman, but definitely setting it aside for later consideration. (See above, re. spank bank.) "So... it bothers you then?" he tried, doing his best not to sound worried. "The slash? That means stories where people write you in couples with-"
Steve rolled his eyes again, and flashed back a grin that was brief, but only a little bit exasperated, and not at all horrified. "I know what it means, Tony," he said with a shake of his head. "And no, why should it bother me? It's not like there's anything to be ashamed of, being that way for a fella. Knew plenty of good guys were when I was a kid -- in the army too, for all they were on the down-low." He gave half a shrug. "Heck, now it isn't even illegal like it used to be back then."
"Well no, but it's gotta bug you a little, right?" Tony pushed, not fishing, oh no, not fishing at all, thank you. "I mean, reading some 16 year old's fantasies about you getting it on with..." he craned aside, trying to pick out a name from the text, but getting hung up in a rather lavish paragraph about lube first.
"With you," Steve supplied with a growl that snapped Tony's attention back to him, and his cock into a state of confused-yet-hopeful plumpness, "and no, that doesn't bug me. Reading about this... fumbling, ineffectual, ignorant moron Captain America, who never even once does a single thing right makes me kinda steamed though." He thumped a finger on the laptop, which creaked in protest, but somehow didn't shatter -- which, given what Tony knew about the shitty cut-rate plastics in the brand's housings, was kind of a wonder.
"I mean honestly," Steve went on, Brooklyn ire creeping out ! "I'm no genius and I know it, but this knucklehead wouldn'ta survived his first damned handshake with the Red Skull, let alone three years' campaign against HYDRA and the Wehrmacht! And that's not even gettin' into the damned Chitauri, which I'm not sure this idiot," another emphatic gesture, this one a lucky miss for the computer, "could even pronounce, let alone factor into a winning battleplan!"
"With me?" Tony valiantly dragged the conversation back to its salient point, turning on the bench so he could seek Steve's gaze up from the tech that was offending him for all the wrong reasons. "You're reading a dirty story about you and me?"
"Well I think the point is that I'm not, really," Steve answered, all eyebrow and attitude. "This Iron Man is a villain. Sorta. Not a very believable one though, considering he's a florist in his dayjob."
"Hey!" Tony shot back, stung just a little, "I'll have you know I would rock the Darkside if I ever turned from the path of Goodness and Light and... a florist?"
But Steve only shook his head, offering a grim smile. "Not if you were this chump, you couldn't."
"Chump?" Tony literally sputtered. It was humiliating.
"Well, what would you call it?" Steve challenged back. "The writer keeps on saying this fella's smarter than every other Avenger, everyone at Stark Industries, at SHIELD, and in the Press, and yet he can't recognize that Steve Rogers is Captain America when he sees him every damn day!" Steve slapped the computer closed again. "My cowl doesn't exactly hide my face, you know, and the way that Iron Man keeps carrying on about the uniform's pants, you'd think he could recognize the rear end that goes inside them when he got a look at it!"
"Wait, I -- he gets a look at it?!" Tony stopped himself from lunging after the laptop mainly through force of will. "Like, a peeking in the showers look, or?"
"Well they're dating!" Steve groused. "Working at the same place, keeping house, lunch and dinner every day and everything, so I should hope they're sleeping together!"
"We're sleeping together." Tony absolutely did not sound any more strangled than normal, damn it. There was a lot of dust in the workshop, was all. Because 'sleeping together' as he understood the fandom term, could mean Kissy-face-emo-wallow-fade-to-black-before-anything-good-happens, but it could also mean This-author-hasn't-ever-had-sex-of-any-kind-but-damned-if-she'll-let-that-stop-her-writing-hardcore-kink, and Tony found himself in the grips of a train-wreck compulsion to know which.
"Yeah," Steve shrugged, sparing a glance from his attempts to light the laptop on fire with only the power of his disapproval. "In just about every chapter, from about three onward. Not that I can see why a 'genius' like this Iron Man," and whoa, talk about clearly audible air-quotes, "would even be interested in a moron like this Captain America -- he makes a potted plant look smart! No matter how pretty Cap's supposed to be," Steve shook his head, utterly unaware of the stunning irony of those words on those lips, "they'd need to have something to talk about outside the bed, or what's the damned point of living together, right?"
And if that wasn't a double dog dare, Tony decided, he'd never heard one.
"The point." Tony said, plucking Steve's laptop from his lap and thereby securing the man's undivided attention at last. "The point, Steven, is that you," he poked a finger at the center of Steve's entirely unfair chest, "have been sitting here for three hours in my workshop," he pointed at the floor between their feet, "reading what sounds like really bad pornography about Tony Stark," he pointed at his own chest, "getting it on with Steve Rogers," back to Steve, "and you're worried about the author making you sound stupid?"
"Really, really stupid," Steve chinned up to it, all jaw and defiance. "It's insulting."
"Being called stupid," Tony checked one more time, wanting -- needing -- to be sure. "That's what offended you."
"Well, that and three hours of my life I'll never get back now," Steve shrugged sullenly, his eyes glittering just so much through the huff, and damn it, why did Tony always forget that bastard could actually act? Good thing he had no patience for poker, or Cap might own most of Tony's shares of Stark Industries by now.
"Well then," Tony said, and slung Steve's craptop a good ten feet away. The plastics showed their quality against the concrete floor in a gorgeous display of fracture and trajectory physics, but Tony wasn't paying much attention to that -- he was already moving across the sofa
"Hey!" Steve yelped, as if it wasn't obvious that Tony would be replacing said piece of craptech before morning.
His protests ended, though, the moment Tony climbed right into the beautiful son of a bitch's lap and put his lips right against Cap's ear. "Since life's too short to read bad fiction," he murmured, "Let's not waste any more of your precious time, shall we?"
And whoa, would you look at that -- not a scrap of hesitation in the arms Steve slung around Tony's waist. There was nothing remotely shy in the hand that grabbed the back of Tony's head and tilted him down into a toe-curling kiss the like of which Tony, genius, polymath, and futurist that he was, hadn't managed to so much as imagine Steve Rogers could dish out. His imagination was going to get a stern talking to, he decided, grinding down delightedly the moment he discovered that Steve's cock was just as interested in the proceedings as was his own.
"I'd be prepared to waste a few hours with you," Steve answered, sly and smirking through lips that kissing had only made more gorgeous.
"A few hours?" Tony leered, awed and hopeful in equal measure.
Steve only shrugged. "Serum."
"Well three cheers for the red, white, and blue," Tony said, and kissed him again; harder, filthier, giddy with anticipation, and huh. Mark down another first -- Tony was pretty sure he hadn't actually ever made out with someone while they were laughing at him. Oddly, he didn't mind it as much as he'd thought he might, but the way the giggles unraveled into moans when he set his teeth to work on Steve's throat might have sweetened the experience a bit.
"You okay with this, Cap," he murmured after a long nibble, his beard ruffling against Steve's earlobe and raising an electric shiver in the body beneath his.
"What, with this?" came the breathless reply as Steve turned his head to provide better access, "Or with this?" He grabbed Tony's ass in both hands, held him in place as he started to rock his hips up in short, hard strokes.
"Ugh!" Tony gulped, alarmed, elated, a little afraid he might come in his pants, because goddamn. "Yes! Any. All. Fuck, Steve, yes!" But still, he clawed his fingers hard into Steve's shoulders, gripped with his thighs to still those pistoning hips as much as he could, because there was no way Pepper would bail him out of this one if he fucked it up, and Tony hadn't lived through two decades of awkward, excruciating mornings-after without learning anything.
"I just. Y'know." He gulped a breath, licked his lips. Then reconsidered and licked Steve's for a long moment instead. "Kinda hard to work together if there are... y'know... regrets, right?"
"Regrets..." Steve said against the column of Tony's throat, and Jesus fuck, he was gonna have to bring man-scarves back into fashion if those bites went any higher. "Sounds to me like you're the one having second thoughts, Tony," Steve dared once he'd wrung some truly pitiful noises out of him. "We haven't really got started yet, if you wanna get out."
"Out? Fuck out, I want in!" Tony growled, and this time he was the one to start the rutting. "I just..." He shivered as Steve's hands kneaded at his ass like he was thinking of ripping right through the denim to get to skin. "Don't wanna be the guy you wish you hadn't -- Jesus, Cap -- fucked in a moment of pique over some shitty... ohhhh shit, right there, God dammit!"
"So you do wanna be here?" Steve demanded, still rocking as he thumbed open Tony's belt.
"Uh huh," Tony answered, clawing Steve's shirt right up over his head. "Right here," he mumbled against the corded swell of shoulder.
"Nobody's forcing you to stay," Steve panted, tugging Tony's zipper down and reaching in to wrap Tony's cock in his fist. "You don't feel coerced?"
"Hnng!" Tony said, shaking his head hard as he could, in case Cap wasn't fluent in the universal language of 'Dear God Don't Stop'.
"You're not planning to run straight to some reporter with the story after we're done?" Steve asked, spreading precome along Tony's length with a grip that wasn't quite tight enough to block out Tony's English comprehension.
"Fuck you, Rogers," he growled, clawing pink welts down Steve's chest before yanking his pants open. There was a broad smear of precome at the waistband of Steve's shorts, just begging to be nuzzled. Tony wasn't limber enough to get at it without dismounting though, and given the turn of questioning, he wasn't about to get off this ride before he'd got his nickel's worth.
"Mmm." Steve licked his lips and grinned as Tony freed his erection and wrapped both hands around it. "Not planning to ask for money afterward?"
"Fuck. You," Tony reminded him, and leaned in close to bite that grin right off his smug goddamned lips. "Better yet, fuck me. Right here. Right goddamned now!"
"Well then," Steve replied, gripping Tony's thighs and surging to his feet, "I guess the only regret I've got is not having any Vaseline. Spit's not quite the same-"
"Workbench," Tony gasped, clinging to Steve like a very horny koala. "Lube. Condom. Top left drawer, and make it snappy, or you get to tell Pepper just how you gave me a heart attack instead of an orgasm."
"Not on your life," Steve chuckled as he half turned, swept the workbench clean in one clattering swing of his arm, and ignored Tony's spluttering to set him down on the cleared spot. "Lube," he reminded, hooking Tony's rolling stool around behind him so he could settle between Tony's knees and suck the cussing-out he totally had coming right out of Tony's head by way of his cock.
"We," Tony gasped, fumbling the lid off and giving the tube a sniff to be sure he'd grabbed lube instead of epoxy, "are gonna have a talk about boundaries..." and holy fuck, did the man even have a passing acquaintance with his gag reflex?
"Looking forward to it," Steve pulled off to answer with a final lick, "And to my new computer." His voice had roughened just enough to turn the smugness into blisteringly sexy menace as he plucked the lube from Tony's fingers and put it to expert use. And oh, Tony had never been so happy to realize he was totally fucked in his life!
Still, he wasn't a blushing virgin here -- he had the Stark Playboy reputation to uphold, no matter how quickly Captain Innocent-face found his prostate, or how much fun he had playing with it. Tony made it through two fingers, four minutes, and three seriously close calls before he allowed himself to beg. For values of begging that included threatening to drop Steve off Avenger Tower's landing pad in his underwear if he didn't quit teasing, glove up and get in there already, of course.
Predictably, Steve made him wait through another finger, because the gorgeous, bossy son of a bitch always had to be in charge, didn't he? Tony was seriously running out of curse words, and relying far too heavily on actual begging by the time Cap finally decided he was loose enough and stood up.
"Ready?" he asked, tugging Tony's hips off the edge of the table and pressing his knees up high so he could rub the tip of his cock back and forth across Tony's entrance.
"I. Will. Kill. You," Tony gritted, shimmying his hips to try and impale himself.
Steve had the nerve to laugh at him, right up until Tony got the angle right and bore down. "Counterproductive," he warned then, and gasped, his fingers clenching hard around Tony's thigh as the head popped inside all at once.
"Figurative," Tony countered, nodding his eager permission as Steve caught his breath and began the long slide inward. "Little -- Oh Jesus, Steve -- little death."
"Little, huh?" Steve grumbled cheerfully as he finally bottomed out. Then he bent Tony in half and claimed a whelming kiss. "That's flattering."
"Flattery later," Tony promised, winding his legs around Steve's waist and bearing down around the prick he'd never let himself properly imagine... in this context or any other. Steve made a delicious, half-strangled noise that Tony instantly vowed to wring out of him again as often as possible, given how beautifully it went along with the groan Tony couldn't keep locked in his own throat. "I believe I was promised a fucking now..."
The glint in Steve's eyes as he pushed upright was a beautiful and dangerous thing. "Well," he panted, propping Tony's ass in both hands and pulling back forever. "Lemme see if I can't make it worth your time." Then he gave the workbench a thoughtful nudge. "This thing bolted to the floor?"
"Yeah?" Tony breathed, awed, intimidated, and more turned on than he'd been in years, because he'd damned well read the files on Project Rebirth, and oh, some of those numbers were promising.
Steve gave back a grin that would have sent any sane supervillain running, and braced his feet a little farther apart. "Good," he growled, and slammed home.
It was the last actual word either of them had to say for awhile.
Steve gave a wheezing laugh beside him. "Or we could find a bed next time," he suggested mildly, one arm thrown over his still-flushed face.
Tony waved him quiet. "Also, I need to reinforce the corner welds on my bedframe. And Steve's bedframe. And the kitchen table."
"Of course, Sir," Jarvis answered. "And might I recommend the same treatment for your office desk as well?"
Steve's laugh was a dangerously infectious thing, all little-boy innocence crossed with fucked-out exhaustion, and Tony added it to the list of noises he wanted to hear Steve Rogers make. "Good plan," Tony replied, "And find that story Steve was reading for me, all right? I want a closer look at it."
"Oh Tony, no," Steve groaned.
"Oh Steve, yes,"
"And what happened to life being too short to read bad fiction?" Steve asked. The challenge would have carried a lot more weight if they hadn't both been sprawled, sticky and naked on the workshop floor, dumping heat and afterglow into the concrete.
Tony gave it all the consideration he could spare from the problem of how to reach the shop towels without having to a) get up, or b) call Dummy from his charging station, because what could possibly go wrong with that? "Didn't say I was gonna read it," he panted, and grabbed a sock to wipe down with. "But I'm betting that site'll have a feedback button."
"Hey, that's-" he grimaced as Tony dropped the sock on his glistening washboard with a grin. "mine. Thanks. Anyway, you can't go leaving comments on the poor kid's story. If you can't say something nice, you shouldn't say anything at all." He pulled the condom off, knotted it with only a little fumbling, and pitched it unerringly at the trashcan.
"That's a change of tune from the man who was pitching a fit about how stupid she made him sound," Tony grinned, rolling up to bring his best brat-face into play.
Steve obliged him with a blush, more delicate and charming than the ruddy glow his skin had taken up under *ahem* exertion. "Well, it's not like anybody made me read it," he said, "and anyway, the author's not getting paid or anything -- she did it on her own time, and posted it for free. So I don't want you to go and hurt her feelings, okay?"
"Hurt her feelings nothing," Tony laughed, levering himself across Cap's seven-acre chest for a proper afterglow cuddle, "We're talking about the person who hooked up two of the hottest vigilante superheroes ever, with nothing but the power of purple prose! I'm gonna damn well send her flowers!" Steve chuckled then, and wound one meaty arm around Tony's waist to pull him closer to. Tony allowed it with a happy wriggle, and looped one knee over Steve's thighs. "I mean seriously, Cap, when was the last time you got set up that expertly?"
Steve's smile twisted to the side, but it didn't slide out of his eyes. "Well, plenty have tried to set me up over the years, but it never really took. I kinda figure it's a thing that happens to other people," he said, confirming Tony's deepest suspicions as to the innate sneakiness of the Man with the Plan. He filed that under things not to forget about Steve Rogers' Innocent Face, and just settled in to enjoy his unexpected good fortune.
A long, quiet moment passed, during which neither of them purred, exactly. Then Steve said, quietly, "Don't go read that story though, okay Tony?" Tony smirked, and Steve must have felt it against his shoulder, because his big hand slid up the length of Tony's spine to nestle at the base of his skull. Not restraining, not holding Tony down, but following along when he lifted his chin to meet Steve's earnestly worried gaze. "Seriously, don't."
"Afraid I'll get ideas?" Tony asked, because no fucking way could Steve believe that Tony's opinion of his intelligence could be influenced by something like this.
Steve's lips quirked up again, and he propped his free arm up under his head. "Oh, I know you'll get ideas. It's kinda what you do. But you're a busy man; a business to run, evil to defeat, and the press to run in circles."
"Yes, aaaand?" Tony goaded, and Steve's grin grew teeth and turned a little mean.
"Aaand you don't have time to go trawling the pairing tags and hoping for the best," he said, ruffling Tony's hair, "so let me point you at the good stuff instead."
"The good stuff, huh?" Tony leered. "Just how good are we talking about here?"
"Two words for ya," Steve leered back, truth and dare all wound up in one gorgeous package.
"I'll just cancel your and the Captain's appointments for the rest of the week, shall I Sir?" Jarvis said after several long, not-quite-silent moments.
Neither man felt motivated to answer.