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Bruce hasn’t been a respected member of the scientific community for some time, but he’s pretty sure “come visit my lab” didn’t used to be code for “let’s have sex.”

Of course, Tony Stark isn’t exactly a respected member of the scientific community either.

* * *

“You are very small.”

“You’re very big.”

She’s pretty sure the noise he makes is a harrumph.

“It will make this difficult,” Thor says, and kisses her.

* * *

Steve didn’t think he’d ever be fighting Nazis again.

Clint didn’t think he’d ever be fighting zombies again.

They’re both so glad to see those bastards go down that it’s unclear who initiates the kiss.

* * *

Tony looks around.

“You know,” he says, “we are three very attractive people. If you count as a person. Which you do, right? I mean—”

Natasha glares at him. He stops.

She wrinkles her brow. “We are,” she says.

Crash.

Thor’s knocked his chair over standing up.

“It’s decided, then!”

* * *

“Try this one,” he urges.

It’s the sixth new bow today, but Clint dutifully picks it up, slings it around, pulls the string back—he becomes aware that Tony is staring at his arms.

* * *

Natasha clenches her hands once, releases them. It’s the only sign that she’s nervous—she is, after all, a professional.

She crosses after her target, making certain he won’t catch sight of her until the perfect moment, taking advantage of her body to create just the right impression.

“Captain Rogers,” says Agent Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, “Would you like to dance?”

“I’ve always had a thing for dangerous women,” he says, and smiles.

* * *

Bruce cleans his glasses on his shirttail. He feels sort of bad about this; different culture aside, Thor might in fact subscribe to the heteronormative paradigm, and forcing the issue could be disastrous for the team. But Bruce hasn’t kissed a boy for a very long time, and the one in front of him happens to be exactly the type that his teenage self had some very nice dreams about, and…

In short, there is a blond hunk of god on Bruce’s couch, and he is not about to let the opportunity pass by.

* * *

“I have been to visit Jane,” Thor announces, “and I have found her kissing Darcy.”

Tony looks at him.

“Steven Rogers,” he says, “has been on a different date every night since he discovered the Internet.”

“Natasha and Bruce,” Clint whispers, half to them, half to himself. “Who would’ve—Bruce and Natasha!”

There is a silence.

“Well,” says Tony, “I know what we’re going to do tonight.”

* * *

“Lots of people hate me, Rogers,” Tony drawls. “It’s starting to lose its zing.”

Steve glares at him.

“Tony Stark,” he begins, “you are disgustingly conceited, repulsively irresponsible, and … and … infuriatingly handsome!”

“Why, Captain,” Tony says, “I had absolutely no idea you felt that way.”

Steve actually growls.

* * *

“But you must,” Tony presses, “like some Midgardian music.”

“I am very fond of Beethoven,” Thor admits.

“And,” he adds, after a pause, “Sam Cooke.”

Clint looks him up that night, hears

Cupid, draw back your bow

And let your arrow go …

He bribes Fury to pick him up some flowers.

* * *

Bruce is not the sort of man Natasha usually kisses.

It makes a nice change.

(Bruce’s thoughts are not so coherent. They should have done this a long time ago.)

* * *

Clint lies on the bed while Natasha gets dressed, tossing a rubber ball up and down.

“You have,” Natasha notes, “an Iron Man action figure on your dresser.”

He doesn’t bother denying it, although he does hope she doesn’t figure out why.

“I happen to know,” she continues, “that you have a Hawkeye action figure in that drawer.”

Damn.

“What, do you make them kiss?”

Clint winces, but there’s no point in trying to hide the truth from Natasha.

“I may … just a little … have developed … a … crush.”

He’s terrified, but Natasha’s laughing.

“God. I thought I was the only one.”

Clint’s laughing now, too.

Then she says, “We’re going to need a game plan.”

Clint gets serious.

* * *

Natasha has been waiting for this moment for a while now.

Sometimes it’s a long time between getting The Question, sometimes it’s no time at all. It is just Natasha’s luck that this is one of the long ones.

But the blond woman whose name she can’t remember finally, finally, smiles at her with too many teeth and asks, “You’re working with a famous ladies’ man. Have you and Tony Stark ever, you know…”

And Natasha finally, finally, answers, “Yes.”

* * *

“Look.”

Steve pauses, takes a breath.

“When you said we should celebrate our victory with sex, I didn’t realize you meant with each other.”

Thor, lounging on the bed, shirtless, frowns. Prettily, damn him.

“You don’t find me attractive?”

And Steve explodes. He’s wheezing, actually doubled over laughing, actually on the floor laughing, actually in pain from laughing.

When he recovers, Thor is still stretched out on the bed, still gloriously shirtless, now looking confused. Adorably confused.

“All right,” Steve says, “victory sex it is.”

* * *

It’s disgusting, Tony thinks.

He’s actually quite happy for them. What he means is the cuteness.

Clint finds a single red rose in his quiver.

Bruce walks into his lab and finds a fat bunny in a basket.

Clint holds Bruce’s hand under the table during a briefing.

Bruce sneaks up while Clint is checking his weapon and hugs him from behind.

They make out like romantic comedy leads after every fight.

He’s really happy for them. Really.

Clint swats Bruce on the ass as he walks past.

Tony grits his teeth. He’s happy for them.

* * *

“Tony,” Steve says. “I think—”

Tony nods, his mouth going dry, because he thinks he agrees.

“I think I’m in love with you, too,” he says, taking a chance.

Steve nods, relieved, then opens his mouth again.

“But I’m not … you know … gay.”

“Well,” Tony says, “that’s where Natasha comes in.”

* * *

He is really really very strong.

Tony always thought he was more about rolling curves than rippling muscles. (Yeah, he likes boys, but he loves women.) The god of thunder is quickly proving him wrong.

Thor, for his part, has always taken lovers who were like him, strong of body. He never realized how alluring strength of mind could be.

* * *

Bruce invited everyone over, but Natasha is on a mission, Thor can’t get away from Asgard, Tony is being cranky, and Clint has, inexplicably, come down with a date. So it’s just him and Steve.

They end up watching Aladdin, because Steve misses musicals.

They start out perched awkwardly on opposite sides of the couch. By “One Jump,” they’re sitting right next to each other.

When Aladdin almost dies in the cave, Steve grabs Bruce’s hand tightly. He doesn’t let go.

By the end of “A Whole New World,” Steve is practically in Bruce’s lap, sprawled across him comfortably. (He’s actually a little too heavy, but too heavy in a good way.)

When Jafar takes over Agrabah, Bruce steels his courage and goes for the kiss—but Steve stops him.

He wants to see how the movie ends.

* * *

Clint pulls Natasha’s shirt over her head, diving in for a quick kiss along the way. Her arms fall back down to his, slipping over his shoulders, his upper arms.

“This is just like Budapest all over again,” Clint murmurs.

“You and I remember Budapest very differently,” says Natasha.