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Of Course I'm Happy To See You

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He was Steve’s teammate, certainly, and even technically his friend; but Tony Stark could be juvenile, mean-spirited, and petty, and that was that.

Steve practically had a mental scrapbook of every time he’d acted like a toddler, or used his period in the ice against him by claiming superiority or making references he’d never understand.

He’d stopped Googling after the first few insults. It was easier to treat every new word as “jabberwocky”, and laugh at Stark for talking nonsense. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?

Unfortunately, de-stressing from the abnormal irritation Stark drilled out of him was taking up too much of his brain space.




“And Stark,” Steve said, at long last, about to give Iron Man his directions on the field.

That was when Tony clapped his hands to his face in assumed shock. “Senpai noticed me?”

Steve didn’t bother to ask who that was. “Stay high. Spiral in gradually tighter circles. Got it?”

The Iron Man suit curtseyed facetiously and lifted off into the sky.

Steve shook his head. Jogging alongside Hawkeye, he asked, “What did that word mean?”

“It meant Stark’s kind of an ass,” Clint replied, taking out a robot wasp with an arrow straight up its stinger.

“Right,” Steve muttered, knocking one out with the shield. “Like I needed that translation.”




Since when did Stark take orders from anyone?

That was Stark’s excuse.

“Since you agreed to be part of a team that had me as its captain?” Steve snapped back at him.

Tony raised his hands. “Well, excuse me, princess. Wouldn’t hurt to ask nicely.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Steve spat. “What, you expect me to beg?”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take that.”

Steve felt a vein throb at his temple, and hoped it was the only outward sign of the grenade that had just gone off in his head. “You arrogant…” 

He shook himself and turned to storm out, hands balled into fists and shaking.




“Alright, Dorito.”

“Dorito? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Tiny waist. Huge shoulders. You’re a human triangle.”

Steve just couldn’t quite imagine how being triangular was a good thing, so that one got added straight to the list.




“Oh, look who it is. Mister “I’m too sexy for my shirt”.”


(This was probably a reference to Wednesday just gone, when he’d accidentally collided with Johnny Storm mid-jump, leaving them tangled on the floor with Steve’s costume burning off.

Tony had stepped up to them and said, “I can’t tell you what I’m thinking right now.”

Steve was about to retort that that was the most pointless statement he’d ever heard, but he was too busy being on fire.)


“Have you been waiting,” Steve said, “For me to get out of the shower, just so you could make that joke?”

“Oh, believe me - that’s not why I was waiting for you to get out of the shower.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Well, sorry for the delay,” he said hotly. “I’m done now. It’s all yours; please, take your time.”




He shouldn’t initiate interactions with Tony.

“Stark. You got that file from Fury?”

“Yeah. What do you want with it?”

Steve folded his arms. “I want you to give it to me.”

Tony pulled his goggles off his head and mirrored Steve’s pose, leaning back against the counter and popping the end of one plastic arm between his lips. “Oh, really?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah. Really.”

“You sure you can take it?”

Steve shook his head in confusion. “Yes. Why?”

Tony shifted. “It’s quite big.”

Steve shrugged at him. “I’m…sure I can handle it.”

Tony looked inexplicably amused. “When do you want it?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Want me to give it to you right now?”

“Yes, that would be preferable-“

“Stark,” Natasha interrupted, eyes not lifting from her fork. “That’s enough.”




“How do you even fit into clothes?” he said one day, after he’d given Steve a shiver of shock by running a finger down the stretched seam of a t-shirt he’d squeezed his shoulders into.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “I get it. I’m abnormal.”

“I swear,” Tony went on, “That physique - it’s not human.”

“Right. Right. Lab experiment - that it?”

“Hmm,” Tony said appraisingly. “No, I was thinking more ‘genetically modified sex-android’.”

Steve sighed. “You know those times when you’re sometimes nice to me? Do you think maybe we could make those the norm?”




For whatever reason, it happened a lot in battle.

Steve had to be especially careful with how he worded a request for a lift back to the tower; for example, “Stark - can I get a ride?” was resolutely off the table.

“Baby, you can ride me all you like,” Iron Man had said. “Just say the word, cowboy.”

“I,” Steve said. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“Just get on top of me,” Tony snapped.





“Precious baby. You’re so innocent.”

“I’ve killed men with my bare hands, Stark.”

“He is, isn’t he,” Clint said, totally ignoring him.

“Yeah, Steve, sure, but you don’t even know what that means? And you’ve never even heard the term ‘rim job’?”

“Shocking, given that I spend so much time around you,” Steve grumbled. “Let me guess. It’s something sexual?”

“‘Is it something sexual’. God, your vocab, I swear. I bet you say ‘oh golly gosh darn’ when you come.”

Steve turned horribly red. “Why do you always have to be such a jerk?” he complained.

“He just gets off on watching you get flustered,” Clint said, shrugging at whatever look Tony gave him behind Steve’s back.

“I hate you both,” Steve muttered, trying to get his blush in check. “Let’s move.”




No, Tony.”

“God, alright, asshole. Jeez. At least don’t tell Fury?”

“I won’t tell Fury,” Steve said, “If you promise not to involve me in any more of your pranks.”

“What the hell? You started this whole thing - don’t act all innocent.”

“If we don’t have a deal, I’m telling him right now.”

“Fine. Goody-two-shoes. Honestly, you’d look like butter wouldn’t melt with a cock in your mouth.”

Steve’s face turned red-hot.




There were times when it just flat-out made no sense.

Usually when they were about to die, which made it a little more understandable.

“Let’s make a deal,” Tony said. “I’ll head off the bad guys if you let me rub ice all over you.”

“What?” Steve said. Not the image he needed in his head when he was trying to strategize.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Forget it.”




Tony was rubbing his ass against him.

It was bad enough they’d been forced into a supply closet thanks to his miscalculation, but there were still footfalls outside and Tony was - touching him.

Steve’s neck hadn’t gotten so hot since his allergic reactions of the 40s. “What are you doing?” he hissed under his breath.

“Just getting comfortable,” Tony whispered back. His butt was firm, and warm, and glided against him with just a bit of give.

“Well, you’re making me uncomfortable,” Steve snapped, almost silently, but he didn’t give over; Steve slapped his wrist. “Stop it!”

“What, is that supposed to deter me?” Tony rumbled, voice smoky in the dark. He bent a little at the waist, putting more pressure on him.

Steve would never forget the jolt of shock and mortification when his penis began to swell without the slightest hint of permission.

He grabbed Tony’s hips and forced them away from him, pinning him in place a couple of inches in front of where his pants were straining towards him, and waited for the footsteps to fade while they both tried to breathe evenly.




So, clearly there was something about Stark that got under his skin - or Stark had plenty of practice getting a reaction.

And apparently, their resident genius had figured that out and planned to use it against him.

And to turn him against himself.

Steve finally slipped a hand into his slacks, gripping himself hard under the covers. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “What the heck is wrong with you? Just - cool it.”

His dick throbbed in his hand, as if to say “Yes, that may be so, and a good point too, but consider this: Tony’s butt.”

Steve clenched his eyes shut. “Stop it,” he whispered again.

“Tony spreading himself open for you.”

He buried his head into his pillow. “Oh, my God. Don’t think that.”

“Sliding between his ass cheeks and letting him grind on you…”

So Steve may or may not have ended up fucking his hand in his bed, not letting himself begin to realize how screwed he was until he grunted Tony’s name helplessly and spilled.




It was wrong and it was dirty and it was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever thought about, which was probably the only reason it was over in record time.

Unfortunately, the memory of it was still fresh when Tony was fixing the sink, the next time Steve’s string of luck in avoiding him ran out.

Perfect timing, too, as Tony was bent over with his ass in the air and asked Steve to hand him something or other, and oh God, he was going to get an erection again, and he burbled “I have to go” and ran out before anyone could notice.




He’d been hanging out with Bruce all afternoon, making himself useful in the lab, sipping a cold beer which may as well have been non-alcoholic, and gradually becoming chattier and more actively passive-aggressive about the Stark Situation.

He was in the middle of complaining about an inappropriate spanking remark, when Bruce’s snort awakened him to the fact Bruce had been trying not to laugh.

“Sorry about him,” he smiled with a long-suffering sound of sympathy. “It’s impossible to stop Tony flirting. He’s really got it bad for you, huh?”

“Sorry?” Steve said blankly.

“Oh, uh - well, you know. He, uh…he’s into you? What is it you guys used to say - he’s sweet on you.”

What? “No, I - I know what it means. I…Dr Banner, I think you’re mistaken.”

Bruce’s lips quirked into a sympathetic smile. He shook his head. “He’s always coming onto you, isn’t he?”


“You know - innuendo and compliments and physical intimacy…”

Steve felt a little flushed. “Yeah - he is always making fun of me. Glad someone else noticed. He knows it makes me uncomfortable, and he’s just trying to get a rise out of me.”

“I’ll say,” said Barton’s head, which was suddenly present and upside down, due to the fact he had just stuck it out of a vent in the ceiling. He dropped an empty box from the same gap. “Oh, by the way, Bruce, you’re out of pizza. P.S. your taste in pizza sucks. Get pepperoni.”

Steve turned back to Bruce, jerking his head towards the ceiling. “Does he do that often?”

Bruce laughed gently. “Uh, yeah. He knows the other guy can’t reach in there very far.” He gave Steve an odd smile. “Anyway - you know what they say. Bullies respond to strength, right? I think you should give him a taste of his own medicine.”

Steve frowned. “How so?”

“Do whatever he does, and do it better. He makes an innuendo, you make one right back. He compliments you on your looks, you gush over his. Don’t hold back. Be mean. Be really mean. Make him cry with how cruelly you think his eyes look nice.”

Steve suddenly felt like he was getting too old for socializing. “You think that’ll work?”

Bruce clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, believe me - he won’t know what’s hit him.”




“Hi, honey,” Tony said, and okay, breakfast was as good a time as any. Not like Tony ever held back.

“Hi, sugarplum,” Steve replied, casually as anything.

Tony raised an eyebrow as he walked into the center of the kitchen. “Did you just sass me?”

Steve cocked his head. “Did you just sass me?”

Tony looked slightly perplexed. Good. He reached for a glass, tank top riding up deliciously on his hips. “You gonna put that in?”

Steve stared at the pastry in his hand. “No,” he said, face already overflowing with heat. “No, I think it’s too big.”

“May I offer to trim it to size for you, Captain?” Thor interjected.

Steve elected to ignore that for now. “And I think it’s…I think it’s leaking.” He hoped his racing heart wasn’t ruining the effect.

The room seemed frozen. From his nerves or everyone else’s, Steve couldn’t tell.

“Want me to help you out with that?” Tony said after the pause.

“If you don’t mind.” Steve turned towards him a little, hand miraculously steady. “Want me to put it in your mouth?”

Tony was…not getting annoyed, and not giving up. If anything, he seemed a little breathless. “Yeah, Steve, you can put it in my mouth.”

Well, alright then. He’d come this far, and he wasn’t about to give in.

Then Tony licked at the stray trickle of raspberry on the corner, crumbs sticking to his tongue, and Steve was suddenly in an overwhelmingly embarrassing situation.

He somehow still managed to say, “How’s that taste?”

Tony’s eyes were virtually black. “It’s good,” he said, face hardly moving. “Can I have some more?”

Steve’s throat cleared itself softly. “Can you take it all?”

He finally allowed himself to look down at Tony, drink in the sight as well as his heat.


How had he missed that.

He widened his eyes at Tony, and then at his face, too.

Tony raised his eyebrows, mouth working silently for a moment. “Are you trying to get into my pants?” he asked.

“Are you trying to get into my pants?” Steve shot back.

There was a bit more silence, presumably to give Steve’s hard-on time to swell further and really claim center-stage.

He could only pray Tony was the only one looking.

“Oookay,” Clint said. “I see where this is going, and I’m going to go ahead and go.”

“Where is what going?” Thor called after him, turning back to Steve and Tony. “I do not understand - to what end do you plan to trade clothing?”

Tony kissed him open-mouthed, eyes lidded, and bit at his ear before he whispered into it. “Thank fuck. Thank. Fuck. Thought I was going to have to jerk myself into a coma to get some relief from wanting your dick.”

Steve blinked out an elaborately panicked soliloquy in Morse code. “I’m a virgin,” he said quickly.

“Mm,” Tony moaned into his neck. “Let me help you with that.”

Thor stood up suddenly, heading in Clint’s direction and shouting “Brother Barton, I resent your misleading equation of sexual relations to a physical location.”

“Uh,” Steve said, suddenly realizing it was too hot to be wearing so many clothes. “Can I take you to dinner?”

The door swung shut. “Can you take me to dinner after you’ve fucked me?”

In Steve’s defence, Tony’s hands were on Steve’s crotch when he asked him, and heck, he was ninety-five, not dead.