The first time they actually share an actual bed, it’s Tony’s and Maria had spent the day at the tower overseeing the removal of alien bodies. For all the visuals were gross, the smell was terrible. When she’d just been finishing up Tony had wandered by, distracting her with his smart mouth and wicked smirk. Normally they just fell against the closest surface and everything was fast and hard, but today there was still radioactive slime all over the living room, so they instead retreated to Tony’s bed.
From there it was normal, and at the end Maria is smirking in a way she hadn’t thought she’d manage for a few more days. The tension has all drained out, and she’s feeling far too floaty to get up and leave, even though she knows she should. They don’t *do* beds.
Tony doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’d just flipped over and gone to sleep. She could feel him along her back, and it was… Comforting.
And if she freaks out in the morning when JARVIS starts talking about the weather, Tony’s not going to tell anyone. Else she’d tell everyone about how he screamed like a little girl when she flipped him out of the bed. For his safety.
The second time is less accidental, but no less ridiculous. Tony’d managed to fight with Potts, Rogers, Banner, and Barton. It wasn’t until he’d started in on Romanov that Maria had intervened. They still needed the genius alive, after all.
Technically it was the med lab, but Fury had given the doctors the rest of the day off. Tony had fought her almost viciously, but Maria was not second only to Fury for no reason. It didn’t hurt that Tony looked so pretty on his knees.
She was the one to roll away this time, hot, sweaty, and exhausted. Whatever demons were riding Tony, Maria wasn’t going anywhere until they were gone. She prided herself on never leaving a job half done.
They fell asleep like that, curled in a way that would look like cuddling except for the foot of space between them.
Potts explained later that it was her birthday, something she almost wished Tony would go back to forgetting. Maria patted herself on the back for the fact that Tony had been to exhausted to dream of sand and blood.
The inclusion party had been a bad idea. A terrible idea. An utterly awful idea. Deadpool had been invited, of all people.
It was almost worth it for how hard Maria laughed when Deadpool freaked out over the wakeup call and dumped Tony on the floor. He still shrieked like a little girl.
She’d gone to bed curled up around Tony. She knew that. They’d ridden each other so hard neither had even had the energy to roll over. That didn’t explain why she’d woken up curled around a plastic skeleton with a goatee drawn on its face and a sign taped to its chest that read ‘dead from sex’.
Barton living in the tower did explain it. She recognized that writing. She would deal with Barton, then find out what they did with Tony.
She was looking forward to victory sex.
She’d just gotten back from an op and was exhausted, but too wound up to sleep.
Only, the billionaire hadn’t been on an op, and while she’d agreed to round two, when he started winding her up again she’d shoved him so hard he’d toppled over, laughing. He’d gone to sleep like that, head on the foot of the bed and feet up high, the reverse of her.
She didn’t believe for a second they had ‘accidentally’ formed a swastika in their sleep. She was tempted to blame Barton again, but the mirth in Rogers’ eyes when he gave them those woeful looks…
Deadpool once was a mistake. Two was… curiosity (she didn’t entirely remember the aftermath of the inclusion party, okay? There’s nothing wrong with re-creating it a bit. After watching the footage.)
She still wasn’t entirely sure how three had happened. Or four. Or five, or six, or…
Maybe this thing was getting a little out of hand.
Still, it was nice to wake up to someone wrapped around her back. And if it was Deadpool, no one cared if she stabbed him or tossed him through the window on a bad night.
She sort of suspected he got off on it, which was even worse that the rest of this trainwreck of a sort of relationship.
But Tony laughed when she stabbed Deadpool and her efficiency was higher and her stress lower than it had been ever since reaching level 7.
There were worse things.
She wasn’t all that surprised to wake up one day to find herself being stared at by bears. Tony had pissed of Loki the previous week, and he’d sworn revenge.
Tony was not surprised, when he finally found her, by the redecoration. They thoroughly debauched the new bearskin rug before getting out of the pocket dimension.
Romanov was in a relationship with Barton, so when it was necessary for Tony to play up his old reputation for a mission, Maria volunteered to be his backup.
Some villains had crazy taste, but at least they agreed with her. Tony really did look amazingly pretty on his knees.
She wasn’t sure when Tony had decided he didn’t want to be left out of after-sex cuddling, but it was probably a good thing Deadpool was enhanced. Two partners sleeping on top of you couldn’t be comfortable, especially when she knew that on at least a half dozen occasions she’d sleepily punched him in the ribs until he’d softened up, registering nothing more than fluffing a pillow until she fully awoke the next day and remembered she hadn’t used a pillow.
He wasn’t there all the time, nor was she, but it seemed that lately Tony’s bed was full more often than not.
Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The problem was when Tony and her arrived, ready to go and down to fuck, to find Deadpool spread across the bed and asleep. Nothing short of severe physical violence could get him to wake up and get the hell out of the way!
Apparently sexual frustration and danger caused the same violent response in her.
Tony was the one more likely to try and talk, once she’d woken Deadpool up.
“Deadpool!!! Oh my god, Deadpool, we went over this! If it’s not your bed, you can’t starfish in it! You’re going to get yourself uninvited! Again!”