"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was drunk."
"'M not drunk," Steve mumbled. Tony darted in and under Steve's free arm as Natasha staggered under his weight.
"You might as well be, Cap." Natasha straightened, easing a little more of Steve's weight onto Tony. They drunk-walked toward the main elevator. "I've seen needles break on Steve's skin, but this guy had a, I guess you'd call it a hypospray, like Dr. McCoy, pressured the stuff right in."
"It kinda hurt," Steve put in, as the elevator began to rise.
"I thought Captain America was supposed to be impervious to drugs?"
"Yeah, well, penicillin was the new big thing back then. Drugs today resemble drugs of the Forties about as much as JARVIS resembles an Atari."
Steve's back hit the elevator wall with a thud. He grinned at nothing.
"Anyway, it's all wrapped up, except that Cap needs a safe place to sleep it off." The elevator opened.
"Just tell JARVIS when you're settled and he'll seal you in, if you want," Tony said. "Bed or couch?"
"Couch," Steve mumbled.
"Bed," Natasha ordered.
"Bed," Tony confirmed, and steered them through the living room. Steve went face-down into the queen-size bed.
"Christ, he puts military corners on the covers. He doesn't even stay here that often." Tony slapped Steve on the rump in a totally non-sexual way. "Have fun with Sleeping Beauty."
Once Tony was gone, Natasha made an unnecessary but reassuring recon of the apartment. Plenty of food and drink in the kitchen--she ought to start getting liquids into Steve to help him flush out the drug. She took two glasses of water back to the bedroom, where Steve was still face down.
"Steve. Cap. Steve!"
He tried to turn over and nearly rolled off the bed. The next few minutes were a short slapstick film as she tried to get enough of Steve's uniform off him that he'd be comfortable lying down. He didn't exactly resist, but he didn't help much, either, and at some point he started giggling uncontrollably. Steve Rogers, Captain America, only successful super-soldier ever created, had a high-pitched falsetto giggle. At last she had him sitting on the edge of the bed, down to his skivvies. She put a glass of water in his hand.
"Drink, Rogers. That's an order."
Being a good soldier, Steve obeyed. He looked at her with an almost alert expression. "Gosh, I'm thirsty."
"I'll get some more water."
She found a pitcher, filled it, and came back. Steve drank another glass straight off, hiccupped half a dozen times in succession.
"I think I oughta lie down."
"You do that, Cap."
Natasha eased the zipper on her worksuit, unloaded some of her weapons, and took off her boots. Oh, that felt good. Grabbing her own glass of water, she pulled a chair close to the bed so she could prop her feet on the edge of the mattress.
"Seal these quarters. Override me, Tony, or Pepper only. No, make that me or Pepper only. And activate the privacy protocols."
Steve was singing something under his breath. Natasha nudged his leg with her toe. "So what happened in there, Cap?"
He turned his face toward her and lit up with a silly grin. "I thought he was gonna torture me! Torture's not fun, even when it doesn't kill ya."
"No, it's not."
"But once he had me strapped in--really good restraints, I gotta say, I tested 'em but he musta made 'em just for me, couldn't bust loose--he just shot me full o' the drug." Steve made a weird hissing noise meant to imitate the sound of the hypospray, giggled, hiccupped. "And then he started askin' me questions."
"What kinda questions?" She tried not to sound too interested.
"First he asked me if I'd read the Harry Potter books." Steve laughed. "I said I hadn't read the books, but I'd seen some of the movies. And then he asked me if I remembered this potion Snape made. Very, vera, verrr...."
"Veritaserum," Nat supplied. Oh, this was getting interesting.
"That was it, yeah. And I said I might remember it if he hadn't already drugged me. Cos I was starting to feel like I was getting drunk. Like I used to before, you know? Got drunk a few times, before the Army.
"So then he said, 'You are going to tell me everything you know, Captain Rogers.' He sounded almost German then, weird. So I said, 'Well, I'm just a skinny kid from Brooklyn who doesn't know anything but his name, rank, and serial number." And he said, 'We'll see about that.' And he started askin' me a buncha questions, and I just kept giving him my name, rank, and serial number. Until I started to get fuzzy on the serial number, and that's about when you came in." He looked at her with large, puppyish eyes. "You were fantastic. You always look gorgeous when you fight, Nat."
Oh ho ho. So the would-be Bond villain, who had squealed like a pig when Nat broke his wrist, had shot Steve full of some kind of truth drug, hoping to get, what? Ingredients of the super serum? Secret locations of S.H.I.E.L.D. arsenals or safe houses? Codes to hack their computers?
The truth was, Steve *didn't* know anything. About the serum, because he wasn't a scientist, or about the secrets, because he wasn't a spy. He was a soldier, a good tactician, a good leader, the kind of man you wanted to follow into battle. And he was still looking at her with disturbingly puppy-dog eyes.
"You look gorgeous the rest of the time, too," he said. "You know you're beautiful, right? No, really, you are."
Beautiful. Yeah. The way a sword is beautiful, maybe, or a jungle cat, the moment before it strikes. Natasha took her feet off the bed.
"Sometimes even when we're fighting, I can't help thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you. Oh!" He turned away, biting his lip, then looked back. "It's the drug. I'm sorry, Nat, it's the drug, I can't, I don't think I can help it. I mean, I feel like I gotta talk, I can't stop talking. Is this what being Tony is like?"
Nat smiled. "It's okay, Steve. It's the drug."
"Maybe, maybe you should leave, I'll be okay, really."
For just a moment she was tempted. They were in Stark Tower, after all, how much trouble could he get into?
"I think I'd better stay, Cap. In case you need anything. You want some more water?"
She refilled his glass, and he propped himself up on one elbow to drink. Were his fingers even warmer than usual when they brushed hers? Steve already had a higher-than-normal body temperature to go with his higher-than-normal metabolism; it might be dangerous if his temperature rose much beyond his baseline.
"Thanks, Nat." He lay back, putting his hands behind his head and looking away from her. For about a minute he didn't say anything, but then the words broke out of him like water coming through a dam.
"I'd like to kiss you. I bet you're a good kisser, I bet I could learn a lot from you. But then I wouldn't stop at your mouth. I'd have to kiss your cheek and your eyebrows and your forehead and the end of your nose. You have a cute nose. And then push your hair out of the way and kiss your ear, and kiss it again if you liked it, and then kiss your neck. I'd spend a long time kissing your pretty neck."
She said nothing. He pressed his lips together so hard they almost turned white, but that couldn't stop the drug.
"So many things I'd like to do for you, Nat. You have no idea. Everyone thinks I'm a gentleman, or even a virgin, but I'm no innocent and I've got urges just like the next man. Maybe bigger urges, Dr. Erskine said the serum amplifies everything, gives a man more of everything he's got, good or bad. I've got a big cock and a hell of a big libido." Again the white lips. "Oh geez, I just said 'cock' in front of a dame--lady."
She couldn't help but laugh at that, gently. "It's okay, Steve. I'm no lady, and it's the drug talking. It's just the drug."
"It's not just the drug." He turned those desperate puppy-dog eyes on her. "The drug is making me tell the truth, it's making me say things I don't want to say but they're true things. You got me out of that lab before he could ask me anything I really knew but I can feel the drug still working. It's not so much like I'm drunk as like I'm hypnotized or something and somebody tells me to raise my arm and heil Hitler and I do it even though I don't mean to."
He wrapped his arms across his chest, shivering a little. "I'd like to kneel down in front of you and take your boots off for you, and I'd rub your feet if you wanted and even kiss 'em. There was this chorus-girl, one time…. I can't be the only man who wants to unzip that catsuit and kiss every little bit of bare skin he finds. I bet your breasts are really pretty. I bet they're perfect."
His voice just about cracked on the last word. Natasha said nothing, didn't move--*couldn't* move, because she was hypnotized by Steve Rogers' erotic imagination. The image of him kneeling at her feet was, frankly, pretty arousing, and so was the image in front of her--Steve naked except for his boxers, a gleam of sweat showing on his chest, and something poking up the front of those boxers in a very impressive way.
"I'd be really careful with your breasts. I wouldn't want to leave bruises. You're tough but I could hurt you, easy, and I wouldn't wanna do that. I'd hold them real careful and kiss them all over for a long time, and suck on them. I'd be careful about that, too."
He shifted, spreading his legs and reaching for his crotch, not as if he wanted to jerk off, but as if he wanted to cover his very obvious erection, as if he could hide his physical response. Instead he pressed his palms to the mattress.
"I wouldn't stop there. I'd keep kissing my way down your ribs and your belly and hold your waist and then get my hands on your buttocks and if you opened your legs for me I'd go right on, I'd kiss your cunt."
His face spasmed as if he wanted to protest his own crude language again, but he was sweating all over now, a man in the grip of a fever and out of his own control. The smell of his sweat and his arousal was like everything that men's fragrances tried and failed to achieve.
"Lotta guys used to talk like that was really gross, going down on a girl, but I liked doing it, and you can't get a girl pregnant with spit, can you? I like eating pussy, I could do that all night and then go to sleep happy, really. Sometimes I wonder if you have hair on your pussy or do you take it off? It wouldn't matter, either way, I'd still eat you out."
It took all of Natasha's considerable self-control not to squeeze her legs together and come.
"I'd kiss your thighs, too, and squeeze your ass, you have the most beautiful ass I've ever seen, I'd even kiss you there if you wanted me to. When you were good and wet from my mouth, then I'd touch your pussy, rub that little spot, what, the clitoris, I don't think we even had a name for it when I was a kid, sometimes we called it the man in the boat, but we knew what it could do, oh yeah. I bet I could make you come just from rubbing your clit, I'd like to do that. Then I'd put my fingers inside. Met a few girls while I was touring for the Army who wanted to do it, but when they saw my dick, they were scared, so I'd just use my fingers. I got pretty good at that."
I bet you did, Nat thought, watching his fingers flex against the sheets.
"And then, and then, when you were ready for me, then I'd fuck you. If you wanted to suck my cock I wouldn't say no, but you wouldn't have to. I don't come very often from cocksucking, anyway, it's easy if I'm fucking someone. I'd fuck you so good, Nat, I promise. I learned how. This one girl in Spokane, she was tiny like you, but she said to me, 'Steve, you know what comes out of a pussy, right? A baby. So I think if a baby can come out of my cunt, your cock'll go in.' And oh boy, it did, it surely did."
He twisted and turned away from her, and from the movement of his arm she knew he was touching his cock now. She was breathing hard and steady to keep from touching herself. He wouldn't say no if she threw herself on top of him right now, but he *couldn't* say no. It would no more be right than fucking someone too drunk to know what he was doing.
"I'd like to see you on top of me." His voice was deeper and quieter, half-muffled by the arm under his head. "I can last a really long time once I get stiff. You could ride me a long time. I'd just lie there and let you do whatever you wanted, see how many times you could come. I'd touch your tits and your pussy if you wanted or keep my hands to myself if you told me to. I'd do anything you told me to, Tasha."
Tasha. She bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed.
His arm was moving faster now, the whisper of hand on cock too steady to ignore. "When you were finished, I'd turn you over, I come the fastest when I'm on top, get you under me just so so I could fuck you hard and fast but not crush you or go too deep, it's good if you close your legs a little, and kiss me, kiss me, Nat, I want your mouth and I wanna feel your fingernails down my back--"
His voice broke, and a ripple went down his spine and snapped his hips twice, three times. Natasha slipped her hand between her thighs and pressed down over her clit as hard as she could. It was enough. They were both quiet, panting. She could smell the scent of his come, like freshly-cut grass.
"I'll just… make us some coffee," she said, and slipped out of the room. He needed the bathroom more than she did.
She did make coffee, after mopping her crotch with a paper towel because otherwise it felt like she was sitting in warm jello. She found Steve in the living room, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and looking embarrassed but a lot less drugged.
"We're not gonna talk about it right now," she said firmly. "You like cream and sugar, right?"
After Natasha had gone back to her own rooms in the tower and had a hot bath and some badly needed sleep, she ran into Tony in the main kitchen. "How's Mr. Veritaserum?"
"You can't call it Veritaserum, that's copyright." She stuck her head in Tony's enormous fridge, looking for a good quick source of protein.
"Did he spill any S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets?" Tony was grinning his most annoying grin.
"Nothing but name, rank, and serial number, like the good little soldier he is." She opened up the container of Greek yogurt and sprinkled it liberally with granola and blueberries.
"Gosh, I'm starving. Tony, you got any eggs?"
Steve's eyes met Natasha's across the kitchen, and nothing she could do or say could stop
the five-alarm blush that covered his face.
Tony started laughing like a goddamn hyena, but at least the glare she gave him sent him scuttling out of the kitchen. She tried a smile at Steve.
"Don't mind him, you know he's an asshole. I saw eggs, bacon, and shredded cheese in the fridge when I went looking."
Steve's shoulders relaxed a couple of inches, and he nodded. "You want anything?"
"Nah, I'm good."
A month went by before Natasha could get down to Steve's place in D.C. He straightened up when he saw her at his front door, clearly expecting a mission.
She stepped in and shut the door. "Hi, Steve. I'm here to find out if you're a man of your word."
His lips were shaping the word "What?" when her arms went around his neck and she whispered in his ear, "Would you really do anything I told you to, Captain?"