#also he would still rhodey shirt happy he can finally wear it too

[pandagirl45]

Steve being reverted back to pre serum body.

He can fit Tony's shirts but he needs smaller pants.

Steve is absolutely miserable until he sees how small he is against rhodey. Steve looks at rhodey in a baggy sweater.

Thinks, "my smallness is worth something!"

Steve crawls into rhodey sweater >:3 happy all day and warm. Rhodey just carries him around happy also uwu

[iam93percentstardust]

Hi, happy Shared Birthday Month, cause it's my birthday month as well!! Can I please prompt you a WinterIron, where Bucky and/or winter soldier is a science nerd and a massive Tony Stark stan? Happy with setting in any era, any rating 😄 Thank you! You are amazing and I love your stuff!

Happy late birthday! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this prompt but here is a cute no-powers au, featuring some minor Natasha/Steve and some science from a paper my lab group read in group meeting yesterday (check the ao3 story for the paper citation). Sorry I didn't come up with something more original for the science but this was on my mind.

As always, everything I write is also on ao3.

~

“Okay, Steve, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—for us,” Bucky quickly corrects when Steve shoots him an amused look. “So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit quietly in the audience,” Steve says.

“And what are we not going to do?”

“Shout that our best friend would like to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane,” Steve dutifully repeats what Bucky has been telling him for the whole drive to the studio. He gives Bucky a sly smile. “Even if it’s true.”

Bucky swats his skinny arm lightly, enough to sting but not so hard that it’ll bruise Steve’s arm, which bruises like a peach. He still can’t believe he managed to win the tickets to watch the live taping of the one hundredth episode of Tony Stark’s show, It’s Only Science If You Write It Down. He’s been following the show since its first episode five years ago. Growing up, Tony Stark was to him what Britney Spears was to other kids. Stark was always in the news for his innovative inventions for his father’s company. Everyone had thought he would take over SI after his parents’ deaths, but instead he’d handed the company over to Pepper Potts, a then-unknown young woman working in SI’s financial department. Stark still held the majority of shares in the company but he’d turned his focus to becoming the next Bill Nye, along with his best friend. Bucky had stumbled across one of the articles about him when he was young and immediately developed one heck of a crush on him that hadn’t at all disappeared with age.

And now he’s here, attending the first ever live taping of Stark’s show.

It’d be a dream come true if only Steve wasn’t the one attending with him. Don’t get him wrong, Stevie’s great, but he’s also convinced Bucky needs to date more often and he’s very… enthusiastic about making sure that everyone they meet that Bucky thinks is even the slightest bit cute knows that.

Stark is the crush to end all crushes. He knows that Steve knows it. He also knows what Steve is like, and he thinks he’ll die of shame if Steve feels the need to let Stark know it too.

“You have your inhaler, right?” he asks as the line creeps forward.

“Yes, mother,” Steve sighs, patting his pocket. “And an EpiPen in the other pocket and my meds in my wallet.”

They’re reminded to keep their phones firmly in their pockets by the surly security guard—incongruously named Happy, according to the badge he’s wearing—at the front door and then ushered inside the studio, only to be stopped by a young woman with a clipboard as they’re climbing the risers.

“Hi,” she says with a sphinxlike smile that makes Bucky want to check that his wallet is still in his pocket. “Which one of you is Bucky Barnes?”

“Uh, that would be me,” he says, raising his hand slightly.

Her eyes catch on the silver sheen of his prosthetic. They don’t register anything other than idle curiosity, but Bucky still awkwardly tucks the arm away. It’s been almost ten years since the accident, but he’s still not used to the looks he gets when people see it.

“I’m Natasha,” she says. “Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. JARVIS noticed you when you entered the studio. Mr. Stark wanted me to inform you both that there’s been a change to the contest winnings.”

Dread starts to pool in Bucky’s stomach but it doesn’t have long to settle before her smile gentles and she adds, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. He just wanted to invite the two of you backstage after the show is over.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. Steve reaches over to close it and asks, “Why?”

To Bucky’s surprise, Natasha gives Steve a clear onceover, seemingly pleased by what she sees. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t like me to give away his secrets, but I’d imagine it has something to do with the way he spilled his coffee all over his front when he saw your friend’s picture.”

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically. “A notorious playboy tripping all over himself for this yahoo here?”

Natasha laughs, hard enough that Bucky mutters, “It wasn’t that funny.”

Once she’s calmed down, Natasha says, “He’s not as bad as you think. A lot of it is just reputation. And yes, as soon as he got a look at him, he was demanding I figure out a way to get him backstage.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Steve demands, taking an indignant stance.

Natasha hums, eyes going dark. “Oh no, you got invited backstage because I wanted to meet you,” she purrs. “I’ll come find you boys later. Enjoy the show.”

She saunters off, putting just enough of a sway to her step that Bucky suspects if he were attracted to women, he’d be mesmerized. As it is, he’s the one who has to reach over to close Steve’s jaw this time.

They take their seats and a few minutes later, Tony Stark and James Rhodes walk on set. They’re quietly talking to each other as the crew bustles around them, makeup artists darting up to make sure their faces look perfect. Stark is dressed in a t-shirt that says Engineers do it on the test bench—which is a terrible joke really and shouldn’t make Bucky want to laugh as much as he does—and well-worn jeans that perfectly mold to the shape of his bubble butt. Rhodes could be dressed in a paper sack for all that Bucky notices him.

Steve leans over and whispers, “You sure that I can’t yell that you want to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane? Natasha made it sound like he’d be open to it.”

“You do,” Bucky hisses back, “and I’ll tell Natasha you were looking at her rear when she walked away.”

Steve makes an indignant noise and sits back in his chair, sulkily crossing his arms.

“Quiet on set!” the director yells. “And… action!”

“Hi!” Tony Stark says, smiling right at the camera. “I’m Tony and this is Rhodey and you’re watching Disney Channe!”

“He’s kidding,” Rhodes says long-sufferingly. “You’re watching It’s Only Science If You Write It Down.”

Later, Bucky wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the show had been about. He’d spent the entire show too entranced by Tony’s voice and charisma to pay any attention to the actual science, which is a bit of a shame. He really does like science—he wouldn’t be getting his PhD in physical chemistry if he didn’t—but he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony long enough to actually watch the experiment. It’s fine; he can always watch the show later when it’s released (and maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll have Tony to watch it with).

It seems like both an eternity and only a moment before the show wraps. Tony and Rhodes leave to thunderous applause, only coming back out for quick bows before disappearing backstage again. Bucky and Steve stay seated while the rest of the audience filters out slowly until Natasha comes to get them. She and Steve chat quietly as she leads them backstage but Bucky can only listen with half an ear; he’s too nervous about meeting his personal hero.

Rhodes is leaving the room Natasha leads them to. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the three of them. “Good, you’re here,” he says, specifically looking at Bucky. “Maybe you can calm him down. He’s been bouncing off the walls since he saw your picture.”

“Really?” Bucky squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Really?”

“Really. He read all your papers last night—twice.”

“He has?”

Rhodes nods. “He really likes your piece on inelastic electron wave packet scattering.”

“Yeah? What did he—”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Rhodes interrupts. “I might be a rocket scientist but chemistry isn’t my preferred field of science. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a date to get to.”

He pushes the door open, letting them in, and leaves. Natasha slips through the door, followed immediately by Tony saying, “Where are—oh god, they left, didn’t they? I knew this was too much. Nat—”

“They’re right outside,” Natasha says smoothly. She opens the door further, revealing the two of them awkwardly standing there. Bucky’s gaze darts around a fairly nice dressing room before finally landing on Tony, who is blinking back at him with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned look.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches up in the tiniest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Great, now that that’s out of the way, get out,” Natasha says, giving Tony a shove so that he stumbles out of the room, right into Bucky’s arms. She reaches out and grabs Steve, pulling him inside. “Don’t disturb me for the next hour.”

“Uh,” Steve begins, but he doesn’t actually look upset by this turn of events, so Bucky doesn’t worry—too much, anyway.

He does, however, turn to Tony and ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Tony says breezily. “Natasha’s just very direct.”

“Right.”

Now that it’s just the two of them alone in the hallway, it’s a little more awkward. Bucky opens his mouth twice to say something, only to shut it again as soon as he realizes his question is stupid. For his part, Tony shoves his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet.

Then the sound of what is obviously Steve moaning floats through the door. Bucky cringes and jerks his thumb in the direction of the door. “We should—”

“Yep,” Tony agrees.

They get all the way back to the set before they stop. They look at each other for a beat before dissolving into giggles. “Oh my god,” Tony says, clutching his sides. “I knew she moved fast but—”

“Well, Steve doesn’t move fast at all,” Bucky says, “so you can see where I’m a bit lost.”

That sets Tony off into another round of laughter. Bucky is calming down a bit so he takes the moment to admire the way Tony laughs with his entire body. It takes Tony a moment to realizes he’s being stared at. When he does, his laugh tapers off as he gives Bucky a lingering look.

“I’m Tony,” he says eventually.

“Bucky.”

“Wow, that’s really unfortunate.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky agrees. “Blame Stevie for that one.”

“Childhood friends, huh?”

“Literally played naked together in the kiddie pool.”

Tony grins. “That sounds familiar.”

“You and Rhodes—”

“Oh no, but if you ever get the chance to meet Janet Van Dyne, remember to ask her about the time she thought she could make a living selling mud pies.”

Bucky takes a moment to marvel that this is his life now, that Tony thinks nothing of giving him dirt on the most prolific fashion designer of their generation. “So, uh, Rhodes told me you read my papers?”

Tony’s eyes light up, and, wow, he looks really pretty when he’s excited. “Yes!” he exclaims. “I want to hear your thoughts on the—uh—the time-dependent density functional theory model.”

“I’d love to,” Bucky says honestly. He bites his lip. “Maybe over coffee?”

A delighted smile spreads across Tony’s face. “I’d really like that.”

He holds out his hand for Bucky to take, which he does. Tony’s hand is small and warm, fitting perfectly against his. They stand there, smiling at each other like idiots, until the surly security guard pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Boss, do you need me to drive you?”

Tony jumps. He shoots Bucky a sheepish grin and then calls over his shoulder, “No, I think we can walk, Happy.”

“Are you sure? There’s—”

“It’s only two blocks.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know what, Happy. You should go see if Natasha needs you to drive her somewhere. I think she’s got a date too.” While Happy is distracted, Tony tugs Bucky towards a side door he hadn’t noticed earlier. “Come on,” he mutters. “Before Natasha decides to kill me for sending Happy to interrupt her.”

“You could not antagonize her,” Bucky points out.

Tony shoots him a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

[xxx-cat-xxx]

heaven forbid (you end up alone)

Two years on and I'm still not over Endgame. But at least I finally finished this fic!

A word of warning; this one is Endgame-compliant and centred around the topic of grief and Pepper’s and Happy’s friendship in the aftermath of Tony’s death.

Major thanks to @twentyghosts​ for beta reading.

*

Throughout her life, Pepper has always divided her days into small pieces, regulated by meticulous plans. She can’t remember ever waking up without a mental―or written―to-do list and a clear idea in which order to tackle it. It’s her way of managing a multinational company. Of managing Tony, which was arguably more challenging than SI’s 300,000 other employees combined. Of managing her own alien-invaded, super power-sprinkled, increasingly absurd life. 

And whenever things get overwhelming and she feels like she’s falling into a bottomless, desperate pit, that’s what she does: plans the next 30 minutes, and then the 30 minutes after that, and so on until it’s one thirty am and she is tired enough to fall into bed without having to think about anything except what’s ticked off on the list and what’s left for tomorrow. 

That’s what she does now, seven weeks after her husband’s death. 

This Saturday is booked for tidying up the closets. There is no need to keep Tony’s clothes, other than a few special ones for memory’s sake, the band shirts and the ones with the science puns she still likes to sleep in. And it would be a waste to wait any longer to donate them: even two months on, there is more than enough need out in the streets due to the chaos that came on after the reverse. 

Homeless people wearing 5000 dollar suits, that would have been to Tony’s taste. 

Pepper has cleared her schedule well in advance, picked a weekend Morgan can stay with Rhodey, already ordered the Dress for Success pick-up for the next morning. Made a plan of action, starting with the top floor. 

All that’s left now is to do it.

“Okay, Virginia,” she tells herself. The name feels unfamiliar on her tongue, but maybe she needs this, needs the reminder that she had a life before Tony Stark and, as horrible as it sounds, will have one after him. “Get up. Drink some water. Go through the closets.” 

It’s just that she can’t. 

She enters the bedroom, their bedroom, her bedroom, opens the cupboard. And then she stands in front of it for almost twenty minutes, unable to bring herself to move. 

Finally, her legs grow a bit weak under her and she has to sit down on the floor, less and less successfully fighting the feeling that the air around her is completely devoid of oxygen. She can’t breathe. She can’t get up. She can’t walk over to the closet and get started with the next item on her list―it’s as if there’s an invisible barrier between her and the task. She just can’t. 

It takes her almost 45 minutes before she finally calls Happy.

*

Much like Tony, Pepper is someone who distracts herself with work, and looking after Morgan, organising the funeral and getting the Stark Foundation into motion to set up shelters for four million Returned without a place to go have been tasks so time-consuming that she didn’t have any other option than just to function, and function well. Almost well enough to trick herself into believing that she’ll be fine.

Sometimes she wonders whether she has become so good at perfecting the image she shows to the public that she doesn’t even know anymore who she actually is. 

“Hey.” 

She hadn't noticed Happy’s presence until he is standing in the doorframe. 

“Happy,” she greets, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. 

“Oh, Pepper.” He looks her up and down, his expression equal parts sad and kind. “Come on. Let’s get you up from the floor.” 

She pushes away his hands helping her up, she doesn’t need them, doesn’t need any help, but then the world blurs suddenly and she kind of does. Happy steadies her when she sways, alarmed but not as surprised as she’d want him to be. It would irritate her, on normal days, because she can take care of herself, doesn’t need anyone to hold her, thank you very much. But today she is just a bit too tired to pretend. 

"Have you eaten?" he asks, voice still too warm when he guides her over to the bed and sits her down. 

“I had...tea this morning.”

“And last night?” 

She is silent. He sighs, and she deflects, “Haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

“Alright, I’ll go find us some food. Just stay here.”

“Thanks, Happy,” she says quietly. 

He sighs again. “It’s alright. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad I’m here.” 

She nods. She knew it too, that she wouldn’t be able to distract herself forever, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. But that’s the thing. She wasn’t afraid of it happening, only of the After―of things calming down and her having to deal with the lonely, horrible, rest of her life. Of realising that the inevitable breakdown doesn’t help a single bit. That picking up the pieces is not in the least easier than keeping them together.

*

Happy returns 15 minutes later with a big bag of cavity-inducing gas station doughnuts, sprinkles and all. The mere thought of biting into one makes Pepper’s stomach roll. 

“I’m not sure I can eat those,” she tells him when he sits next to her on the bed and leans against the headboard. 

“Just try.” 

She does, fighting down the looming nausea, and, surprisingly, the sweetness helps. She breathes out, one and a half doughnuts and a small bottle of orange juice later, and finds that her head feels clearer. 

“Morgan would love this,” she observes, nodding at the rest of the treats. “She’s been trying to bully me into making her waffles for breakfast every single morning of the last whole month.” 

“So, did she succeed?”

Pepper shakes her head. “It’s bad for her health. But she keeps throwing tantrums. I know it’s because of what happened, but god, she's been so difficult. The way she shouts at me, sometimes I think she hates me.”

Happy sets down his reusable coffee cup and looks straight at her. “She doesn't, Pepper." 

She can’t stop herself from snorting. “How would you possibly know?”

“I can see the way she looks at you. Looks up to you. She adores you.”

“I…” Pepper bites her lip, unable to decide whether that’s something she wants to share. Life has taught her that it’s usually better to keep your weaknesses to yourself if you want to stay on top. But then, it’s not like there is any competition of people wanting to parent her daughter. “I don’t know about that. I know she misses Tony, but I also feel that she misses...a parent who knows how to handle her. I’m not―sometimes I’m afraid I’m not a very good mother.”

“That’s not true, Pep, and you know it.”

She takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to have children, Happy. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want Morgan, once we decided in favour of me getting pregnant. And I never regretted having her. But it was mostly Tony who pushed for this, who needed this. He has - had - a way with kids...you know, I can be strict, but he can―could―get her to do what is necessary without even having to raise his voice. And sometimes I just wonder―what if I ruin it, Happy? She only has me.”

“Firstly, that’s not true. Rhodey and I are here for you too. You got your sister, and I’m sure Peter would be more than happy to babysit as well. There’s more than biological parents for a kid, you know that better than anyone, right?” 

She nods, hesitantly.

“And secondly,” he continues, “You are doing great under the circumstances. Nobody is born a parent. But if you’re good at anything, then it is to adapt to difficult situations. You can do this, Pepper.”

“Yeah, I know… I know I can.”

And that’s exactly the point. Pepper has always pulled through. Everyone expects her to keep functioning, and she isn’t one to miss people’s expectations. But sometimes she wonders if she’s still alive in there.

*

They finish up the doughnuts and start tackling the clothes. It goes surprisingly smoothly, and Happy even coaxes a few hesitant chuckles out of her when he fishes a gold-glittery mankini and a few other special-occasion items out of the far corner of Tony’s wardrobe. They are three boxes in and have moved one floor down when Pepper takes a break to pee and wash the dust off her face in the guest bathroom.

Tony’s shaver is lying on the edge of the sink. He must have been shaving here the day he left for the compound, likely because Pepper or Morgan were using the upstairs bathroom, and left it there. She always tells him to put it back in the cupboard and he always forgets―forgot. She picks it up, ready to put it where it belongs, when it hits her. 

It’s futile. It’s a personal shaver of a man who’s never going to need one again. Nobody’s ever going to use this particular shaver again. She could just as well throw it away. 

Pepper feels anger burn hot and fierce in her chest. She opens her mouth, to scream, maybe, but all that comes out is a broken sob. 

Happy must have been listening for her from the other room, because he is there in an instant. She turns away, reflexively hiding the tears on her face, but he stops her.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry.”

“I need to―I don’t have time―”

“I think we can clear fifteen minutes in your schedule for a breakdown, right?” Happy teases, the smallest of smiles on his face although he looks close to tears himself.

A memory strikes, and she chuckles through the sobs, then cries harder. 

“What’s it?”

“That’s just the kind of thing he would have said.”

“Oh, Tony,” Happy smiles sadly.

“I just―I miss him so much, Happy. It’s―It’s all the small things―his shaver―the tinkering and the empty pizza boxes everywhere and the never-ending cups of coffee and the way he just keeps on talking, to his bots and to me and Morgan―and―” she runs out of breath. 

“I know. I miss him too.”

“You know, the way he used to stick his tongue between his teeth when he was concentrating and not realising anyone was around? Morgan did the same recently while drawing, and I just―sometimes I just can’t―”

“You can do it, Pepper. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you. You are strong.”

Pepper laughs, but it sounds shrill and false in her ears. 

“People say that all the time, you know? And the worst thing―you know what the worst thing is?”

Happy shakes his head.

“The worst thing is, it’s true. You know, early into the relationship I was thinking that I can’t live without him. I was so, so scared something would happen to him, so I tried to stop him from being Iron Man… And then we took a break, and he ended up half-dead in Siberia, and at that time I realised that yes, I can live without him. It just wasn’t a life I wanted to live. And now―thinking that I have to do this every day, it’s just―it’s like someone is sitting on my chest and strangling me, over and over again.”

She hears Happy swallow hard, then he shuffles closer and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. One of the bear hugs that got her through the time when Tony was in Afghanistan and both of her parents died in the span of three months, that got Tony through his panic attacks, and Morgan through some of her nightmares. 

She feels water drop onto her neck, and she knows Happy is crying too. 

*

They do finish the clothes before nightfall, because Pepper has always been awfully good at ticking off to-do lists, even on the worst days. When they are done, they get a bottle of red wine from the cellar and empty it in Tony’s honour, sitting near the lake where Pepper and Tony once spent a whole night just after they bought the house getting eaten by mosquitos, when they decided to turn it from a temporary recovery getaway into a home for as long as time would grant them. 

Morgan took her first steps here, had her first fall, cried buckets in Pepper’s arms while Tony put a band-aid on the scratch on her elbow, and Pepper remembers thinking how little children know of pain. A few steps below Pepper laid the arc reactor to water, holding the hand of the girl who now knew so, so much of it; and sometimes she doesn’t know if she wants to preserve the place forever or burn it all down. 

They sit and drink and at some point Pepper closes her eyes, and through the buzz of alcohol she can almost imagine that Tony is in the garage, finishing up a project before joining them for the night. 

She thinks of him with love, with tenderness, with unforgiving pain.

She wonders if it will ever get easier. She wonders if she even wants it to be.

*

They go to bed at two. Happy takes the guest room where Tony’s shaver is now lying at the bottom of a dust bin. Pepper lies wide awake, her window open, listening to the familiar sounds of life far away from the city. 

She will fall asleep eventually, facing away from the empty side of the bed. She will wake up at six, a little hungover, force herself to start the day with yoga and a run. Will call Dress for Success to make sure they get to the house on time, will oversee the pick-up. Will have breakfast with Happy so he doesn’t have to worry about her passing out when he gets on his way. Will sit through an SI video conference until it’s time to pick up Morgan, maybe take her to the mall or to see a movie on the way back home from Rhodey’s. Will make her dinner, give her a bath, put her to bed on time, if possible without a tantrum. Will tackle her email inbox until a headache will force her to bed. Will make a plan for Monday, another Monday without Tony, before falling asleep. Will wake up and face that one too.

Rinse and repeat, one day at a time.

*

All my fics

All my Pepperony fics

[mimisempai]

When you feel weak, let me be your strength

Summary:

Sam, slightly injured during a mission, is going through a moment of doubt. But Bucky is there to take care of him.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31944619

1427 words - Rating G

Bucky felt Sam roll over next to him several times.

Until finally, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Sam? You can't sleep?"

"It's mostly that I can't find the right position." He sighed and reluctantly continued, "because of the pain."

This simple admission showed Bucky how much Sam trusted him. Sam never complained.

At the beginning of their relationship, getting Sam to open up about his pain was like pulling teeth. His lover was so used to relying only on himself, being strong for others, taking care of others, that he took it all on himself and forgot about his own self. But Bucky was there now.

"May I see?" asked Bucky softly.

He knew that during his last mission, Sam had been hit by a rock that had come off a cliff and hit him in mid-air, and even though his armor was reinforced with vibranium-a requirement of Bucky’s who had literally begged Shuri-it didn't stop him from feeling the shock.

"What? What do you want to see? That I'm not a super soldier like you? That I can't take a beating without getting hurt?" Sam questioned him bitterly.

But Bucky didn't let Sam's defiant tone deter him, he kept his composure, put everything he felt into his eyes and said softly, as if he was talking to a scared animal, "Show me Sam, please."

They stayed like that for a few moments. Bucky was unimpressed by the dark looks Sam was giving him and continued to stare at him in the same way until with a sigh of defeat, Sam gave in.

Although reluctant, he lifted his shirt and Bucky held his breath at the extent of the bruise. No wonder Sam was having trouble sleeping. It stretched from the top of his shoulder to his ribs and back again.

Bucky decided that if his lover wouldn't take care of himself, then he was going to do it for him.

He stood up, kissed Sam lightly on the forehead and said, still in the same gentle tone, "Stay like that, I'll be right back."

He went into the bathroom and Sam heard him rummaging through the drawers until he came back with a tube of cream that Sam recognized as a pain remedy. Bucky studied the bruise for a second, trying to figure out what to do so that Sam would suffer as little as possible and then said, "Lie down on your stomach, I'll apply some cream."

Sam huffed and said, "Bucky, there's no need, it will go away. You don't need to worry."

"Sorry, but I can't. I'm your husband, it's my duty to worry about you. It's the direct consequence of my love, deal with it."

Bucky put a finger on his lip and continued, as gently as ever, "Hush Doll now, let me take care of you. I know it's not easy, I know you don't like to feel weak, but I told you before, here with me there is no Captain America, no expectations of the outside world. Just Sam Wilson and his husband Bucky Barnes who takes care of him after a difficult mission. So try to let go, I'll take care of everything ok?"

"Okay." Sam did as Bucky asked. He was never able to resist him anyway, Bucky having shown him time and time again that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Sam's bravado was just his last defense to keep himself from letting go and they both knew it.

Once Sam was on his stomach, Bucky straddled his thighs. He opened the tube of cream, took a dab and warmed it in his hands before starting to apply it to Sam's skin.

Sam flinched slightly.

Bucky stopped immediately and asked him, "Am I hurting you?"

"No, on the contrary." To emphasize his point, Sam put his hands along his body, his shoulders completely relaxed

Bucky, reassured, continued to apply the cream and then massage the rest of Sam's back, loosening all the cramped muscles. Keeping the touch light though so as not to increase the pain.

"Bucky... actually it wasn't just the pain that was keeping me awake." said Sam softly in a slightly broken voice  after a few moments.

"Hm? What else?"

Bucky knew this was coming, it wasn't the first time, so he just listened.

"I'm trained, I'm not afraid to get into the fight when I have to, but sometimes I... "

He paused, as if he didn't dare continue his sentence or had trouble putting into words what he was feeling.

Bucky continued his massage and simply asked, "But sometimes you what Sam?"

"Sometimes I'm afraid of being too confident, of getting carried away by the power of this shield. And when I got hit by that stone, the pain I felt on the impact, I realized that without the shield and the armor, I was just mortal.  And I was scared for the first time in a long time, I felt the same shock as when Riley had been hit in mid-air by the rocket. I wondered if I had not let myself be carried away by the feeling of omnipotence that the armor and the shield gave me. I wondered if I was able to keep going. "

Bucky lay down next to Sam, turning him so that he could wrap his arms around him while being careful not to put pressure on his bruise.

Then he began to whisper against his hair, "Just because you ask that kind of question, I can tell you that yes Sam you are still capable of doing it. Did you get carried away? So what? It happens to everyone. It took a rock to make you realize that but I know you Sam, you're an extremely lucid person, - well not always about your own needs-, so you would have seen it sooner or later. But to get so carried away that you forget your responsibilities? No Sam, I'm sure of that.The proof is in your reluctance to take the shield 10 years ago, you didn't jump on it, you didn't believe that the shield was everything.  You chose to take on the Captain America costume fully aware of the weight of that responsibility and you still wear it today in the same way. You are human Sam, you are allowed to stumble.  You're allowed to have doubts."

"But I'm supposed to..." Bucky cut him off gently.

"Hey Sam, having a moment of doubt or weakness is not being weak. It's what you do with it that determines that. And I already know you're going to turn this into a stepping stone to move forward. You're not supposed to be anything. And never forget that you're not the only one with these responsibilities, even if you're the one in the spotlight. There's Sarah and the kids, Joaquin, Rhodey, Peter -don't roll your eyes, I know you love him- me-"

"Meow?"

"Haha and yes there is also the most supportive of all, Alpine."

Sam smiled, as Alpine jumped on the bed and lay against his belly, feeling he needed comfort.

After kissing Sam on the neck, Bucky whispered softly," So now you'll get some sleep, we'll enjoy this weekend of rest and I promise you that with hindsight, you'll see things differently."

"What if I don't?" asked Sam, the doubt still lingering in him a little.

Bucky placed his hands on Sam's head and began to make hypnotic circles with his fingertips.

"Then you'll consider other options, we'll consider other options together and if that means hanging up the Cap's outfit for a while, then that's what you'll do and I'll support you whatever your decision is. Anything is possible, Sam. Anything is possible for you. But we're not there yet, so try to get some sleep sweetheart."

"Hm Bucky, I don't know what I would do without you."

"That darling, we don't need to know, I have no intention of leaving.

As Bucky massaged his head, Sam gradually felt the fears, the questions disappear, letting a restful sleep take over.

It was only when he felt Sam's breathing take on a regular, deep rhythm that Bucky surrendered and fell asleep as well.

Tomorrow everything would be better.

Tomorrow there would be no mission, no fight, just the two of them, preparing for another tomorrow.

After tomorrow, this time, it might be Bucky who would need Sam.

After tomorrow and forever, only one truth would remain unchanged: Each of them was the other's safe place.

_____

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch23: In The Flesh Part 1: Who Doesn’t Love Revels?

Summary: Tony’s revels don’t go quite according to plan and the peace that the Avengers had been enjoying is shattered as a new foe appears.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, violence and crazy assed robots.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: @angrybirdcr​ does it again!!!!

Chapter 22

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“So, now the whole Hydra and Sceptre thing is over, you two gonna set a date? You’ve been engaged for what, ten months” Nat asked the elevator stopped and the two women stepped out. They’d gotten ready for the party in Nat’s apartment, and were fashionably late as it was already in full swing.

“Hmm, maybe. We haven’t really talked about it.”

“You surprise me you know.” Nat shrugged as they walked towards the bar. “It’s not like you’re known for your patience.” “I can’t wait to marry him, Nat.” Katie smiled, feeling her cheeks blush, looking around for him but failing to spot him “Thing is I’ve always wanted a late summer wedding and think we’ve left it too late to organise for this year…” “What is it Tony says?” Nat smirked “Throw enough money around and anything is possible?”

“Yeah, maybe… “ Katie muttered before she turned to the red head, a smirk on her face. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask. You and Bruce? What’s going on there?“

"Nothing.” Nat shrugged.

“Though not for lack of trying?” Katie asked, and to her surprise Nat’s cheeks showed the faintest sign of a flush underneath her expertly applied rouge “C'mon Nat, you’re not as subtle as you could be. And for what it’s worth, he clearly feels the same… “

“I errr, I don’t know about that…”

“There’s a reason that lullaby doesn’t work coming from anyone else.” Katie said, stopping at the bar a few feet away from where Tony and Thor were talking to Maria Hill and Rhodey.

Natasha looked thoughtful for a moment, then grabbed her drink before she walked off, arching an eyebrow at her friend. Katie watched her go before she sidled up to Tony.

“You know, the suit can take the weight right?” Rhodey grabbbed a glass of champagne before he turned back to Tony as Katie also took one, nodding to them all as Tony dropped a kiss to her head. “So I take the tank, fly it right up to the general’s palace, drop it at his feet, I’m like boom…you looking for this.”

Rhodey gave a grin, and Katie waited for everyone to laugh, having joined the story half way through she wasn’t going to understand, but when no one did the smirk slipped from Rhodey’s face and he licked his lips.

“Boom…you looking…why do I even talk to you guys?” he sighed, shaking his head as he looked at Thor “Everywhere else that story kills.

“This is the whole story?” Thor frowned.

“Yes it’s a war machine story.” Rhodey shrugged as Katie took a sip of her drink

“Oh in that case, it’s very good then!” Thor grinned, turning to face her and Tony. Katie snorted at the look of exasperation Rhodey shot her way before he turned back to the God who took a drink of his beer “It’s impressive”

“Quality save Thor.” Rhodey rolled his eyes sarcastically before he smiled at Tony “So, no Pepper? She not coming?” Tony shook his head, “Nah.” he said softly. “What about Jane?” Maia asked, “Where are the ladies, Gentlemen?” “Well Miss Potts has a company to run.” Tony said, looking at her.

“I’m not even sure what country Jane’s in.” Thor nodded eagerly, a look of pride crossing his face “her work on the convergence has made her the world’s foremost astronomer.” Not one to be out done Tony turned to Thor “And the company that Pepper runs is the largest tech conglomerate on Earth so…”

Thor nodded, and then upped his game “There’s even talk of Jane being given a…err.. nobel prize.”

As he talked Katie rolled her eyes at Maria and Rhodey, the 3 of them sharing a look.

“Yeah they must be busy because they’d hate missing you guys get together…” Katie sarcastically quipped.

“Testosterone.” Mariah coughed out, “Oh excuse me…” “You want a lozenge?” Rhodey asked, playing along. “Yes please.”

Katie laughed as the two of them walked off together before she patted her brother’s shoulder as he huffed out a chuckle before Thor simply smiled

“But Jane’s better.”

Looking around Katie finally spotted Steve. He was playing pool with Sam and he looked good. He was wearing a light blue shirt and it fit him well. It was tucked into smart, dark blue jeans and his toned waist sported a tan belt whilst he was wearing his brown leather jacket.  

Katie watched as he hit the cue ball, Sam beckoning his hand, instructing the ball to move to where he wanted it to, but it didn’t and Steve straightened laughing as Sam dropped his head in a defeated motion. Leaving Tony and Thor, the two still discussing Jane and Pepper, she walked over to her to Steve who was watching Sam’s shot he straightened up, shrugging off his jacket. He then bent back over the pool table and Katie stopped for a moment, simply admiring the view before Steve looked up and their eyes locked.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Sam groaned as Steve made a seemingly impossible shot. "How do you do that, man?”

Steve didn’t answer. Jesus Christ, just when he thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful… she was in a skin tight navy blue lace dress, which finished just above her knees with a V neckline at the front with sleeves that finished a few inches above her elbows. He felt his mouth drop open slightly as she made her way round the table and she couldn’t help but smirk to herself as she reached Steve’s side. His arm snaked round her waist and he had to fight off the little groan that bubbled in his throat as he felt his hand brush her skin, realising the dress was backless .

“Of course the man who spends his time ricocheting his shield off of hard objects would be a natural at calculating trajectories and angles.” Sam continued to chunner as he eyed the balls on the table, Steve paying him no attention as he dropped a kiss onto his girl’s cheek.

“You look incredible” He said, eyes still wide.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, flushing a little. “Hi Sam!”

Sam’s eyes jerked upwards and he straightened up, grinning. “Damned girl!” He kissed her cheek gently. “Don’t you scrub up well?”

The arm round her waist pulled her closer as Steve spoke a little more gruffly than normal.

“Your turn, and in answer to your question it’s nothing to do with calculations, I’ve just always liked pool, was the one thing I could always beat Bucky at.”

He dropped another kiss to the side of Katie’s head and then moved to take the next shot, potting the black and winning. Sam groaned.

“I don’t know why I even try.” He rolled his eyes as the three of them made their way over to find a quieter spot so they could catch up.

Sam filled them in on his latest six-week wild goose chase for Bucky. The only hard evidence he had found recently was a blurry security camera image from a store in Fort Worth of all places, showing a man that could have been Barnes - assuming Bucky’s hair had grown past his shoulders and he had stolen a motorcycle. In turn they told him about the raid on the base in Sokovia, the three of them heading through the party goers and making for the stairs that led up to the mezzanine balcony.

“Sounds like one hell of a fight, sorry I missed it.” Sam smirked, taking a sip of his drink and eyeing up one of the girls that walked down the stairs, catching Katie’s eye with a wink.

Steve grinned “If I’d have known it was going to be a fire fight I’d have called.”

“No, I’m not actually sorry” Sam chuckled, “I’m just trying to sound tough. I’m very happy chasing up cold leads on our favourite missing person’s case.” he said, a hint of sarcasm on his voice as Steve turned to him, smiling again. “Avenging is your world…your world is crazy”

“Be it ever so humble…”  Steve said, trailing off as they looked over the balcony at the party goers distributed across the large lounge area below.

“You found a place in Brooklyn yet?” Sam asked, looking over at us sipping his drink.

“Not sure I can afford a place in Brooklyn.” Steve replied, as Sam turned round so his back was leaning against the glass barrier. He looked at Katie, puzzled and she shook my head slightly, telling him not to press it further.

“Well, home’s home ya know…” Sam replied simply, glancing around the room before he grinned. “What about a date for the wedding?” “You been talking to Nat by any chance?” Katie eyed him and he shrugged, a guilty look on his face.

“We may have had a chat before…” His eyes scanned the space behind her and he nodded at someone. Katie turned to look and spotted a girl was sat on one of the chairs behind us.

“Her name is Sarah, she works in R&D.” She supplied “She’s nice.” “So am I.” Sam grinned, patting her on the shoulder and heading over in her direction.

Steve snorted as the pair of them watched Sam leave, heading off to try his luck before Steve moved so that he was stood in front of Katie, his hands either side of her hips, trapping her between him and the balcony.

“Wedding date?” He arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah Nat asked if we were going to set one now our HYDRA and Sceptre chase was over.” Katie replied. “Well, I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t thought about it.” He smiled. The sooner the better as far as he was concerned. “I can’t wait to make you Mrs Rogers…or Mrs Stark-Rogers, or Mrs Rogers-Stark, whatever the hell you’re gonna call yourself.” He said as she chuckled before he looked her up and down again “By the way, you know that dress is very tight.”

“Don’t you approve?” She asked him innocently.

“Very much…” He said, “It looks great on you. It will look even better on the bedroom floor later.” “That’s very presumptuous of you Captain Badass…” She looked up at him coyly.

“Yeah. It is. What you wearing underneath it?” His eyes flashed mischievously.

“Not a lot. It would ruin the lines.”

His eyes darkened and he gave a low growl “Stop it.”

“You asked.” She shrugged. “Come on, I want a drink. Let’s go and mingle…might help keep you distracted…”

***** 

“Captain Rogers!” Thor’s loud voice cut across the room. Steve looked up from where they were stood to see he was waving and gesturing.

“Be back in a moment.” Steve said Katie, dropping a kiss to her cheek before he headed over to Thor who was stood near some sofas which sported a handful of war veterans.

“I gotta’ have me some of that.” One of the older men exclaimed as Thor poured a small measure of ambler liquid into a glass and handed it to Steve.

“Oh no, you see this was aged for thousands of years in the barrels built from the wreck of Brunnhilde’s fleet.” Thor told the older men as Steve gave the glass a curious look and took a sniff. It had a pleasant enough smell. “It is not meant for mortal men.” Thor warned mockingly.

“Neither was Omaha beach blondie.” The small man on the couch said. “Stop tryin’ to scare us.”

Thor looked to Steve, who shrugged as if to say the man had a point before Thor sighed and nodded. “Alright.” He said then pouring only a drop, if even that much into each man’s glass.

Steve took a sip of the spirit from his glass and nodded, appreciatively. “Not bad…”

“Now if that doesn’t have an effect on you, nothing will.” Thor said, watching the old men carefully who were all sipping their drinks and pulling faces, letting out whistles, before he looked at Steve again.  “This stuff could knock out Banner, when he’s big and green…”

“It’s actually pretty good.” Steve smiled “You got this from home?”

“I can summon certain things with my hammer.” Thor nodded. “I have a cask in my room upstairs.”

“I think it may have just claimed its first casualty.” Steve muttered, taking another sip and nodding at one of the old men.

Thor turned round and shrugged “I warned them…”

The two Avengers stood chatting for a while, until one by one the old men fell victim to the Asgardian strength liquor and they had to call in reinforcements in the shape of Rhodey and Sam who had brought the Veterans. Thor and Steve helped escort them out, Sam bid them goodbye, stating that he better make sure they all got home ok before he got his ass whipped by a nurse.

“And not in a good way.” He grimaced.

Steve walked back into the room and headed for the bar to grab a drink that wasn’t Asgardian, as that stuff had gone to his head, giving him a nice, fuzzy feeling. Natasha and Bruce were there, and he was amused to see the red head smiling suggestively at the Scientist. Trying not to earwig, he caught the tail end of their conversation and smirked, commenting to Bruce that it was nice, before the Doctor had stuttered and tried to explain what was going on.

“It’s okay. Nobody’s breaking any by-laws!” Steve chuckled, his hand raised “If they were, well Katie and I broke them first.”

Bruce smiled.

“It’s just, Nat’s not the most… open person in the world. But with you she seems very relaxed.” Steve finished.

“No, Natasha, she…she likes to flirt.” Bruce said and Steve shook his head

“I’ve seen her flirt, up close.” Steve smiled, reaching over the bar for two bottles of beer as he spotted Katie approaching. “This ain’t that.” Bruce looked down as Steve continued “Look, as maybe the world’s leading authority on waiting too long, don’t. You both deserve a win.”

With that he smiled as Katie slipped her arms round him from behind. He handed her a beer, kissed her head as the pair of them headed away.

“Wait…what do you mean up close?” Bruce called. Steve let out a chuckle and turned back to the man.

“It was a mission, didn’t mean anything.” “What did you just say to him?” Katie asked as they crossed the room towards where Clint was sat at a drum kit, Tony showing him the various pieces of the instrument.

“Oh I overheard Natasha, she was being very, well, sweet” Steve smiled. “Banner was trying to shrug it off, saying she was flirting so I told her I’d seen her flirt, up close, and that was different.” “Steve!” Katie rolled her eyes. “God, you can be a dumbass at times!”

“What?”  He frowned.

Katie sighed. “Bruce doesn’t need to know about Nat flirting with other men.” “Yeah, well I told him not to wait too long or he would regret it.” Steve shrugged, and Katie felt something in her stomach as she turned to face him.

“Like you?” she turned to look at him “With Peggy?” Steve sighed, instantly realising what he had said. “No, I didn’t mean that.” He shook his head “What I mean is I constantly let so much get in the way of just letting myself be happy. And with you, well I should have asked you out months before I did.”

“You do want to marry me don’t you?” Katie almost whispered, the doubt which had suddenly flooding her system was evident in her tone and Steve let out a sigh.

“Of course I do!” He mentally kicked himself for being such an idiot. He didn’t ‘regret’ not being with Peggy because his future was right there in front of him. He reached out and wrapped and arm round her, pulling her to him. “Doll, I love you so much.” She looked up at him and as his eyes locked onto hers she felt the worry leave her system, she could tell by the shine in his eyes he was telling the truth.

“Can we set a date then?” She asked and he smiled, and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s do it. Talk about it tomorrow, properly?”

Katie nodded and he placed a soft kiss to her lips before they were interrupted by the loud sounds of drums and symbols coming from across the room along with a few cheers as Clint began to thrash out a beat.

******

When the party goers began to filter out later in the evening all that was left were the Avengers along with Maria Hill, Rhodey and Helen Cho all spread out across several couches and chairs. Half eaten takeaway containers littered the surface tops along with empty bottles, dirty glasses and the remnants of a chocolate fondue- Tony’s idea.

Katie, Steve and Thor sat on one couch, Katie nestled between them both, her bare legs hooked over Steve’s. He had a flush on his cheeks, and a slight glaze in his eyes.  She grinned.

“You’re drunk.” She whispered to him.

“A little” He grinned back. Katie laughed and gently brushed the back of her hand across his warm cheek.

“Thunder boy!” Clint’s loud, tipsy voice interrupted everyone. “You gonna tell us the secret of that hammer?” “Secret? I do not understand.” Thor frowned.

“Why none of us but you can pick it up?” “I’m the God of Thunder.” Thor shrugged, drinking another mouthful of his drink.

“It’s a trick.” Clint gestured at the hammer which was innocently placed on the table in the middle of the group.

“No it is much more than that my friend.” Thor chuckled, sitting back comfortably in his spot. Steve gestured for Thor to pass him the hip flask he was currently refilling his glass with and he obliged before turning to Clint.

“‘Whosoever be worthy shall haveth the power,’” Clint mocked in a deep voice gesturing to the hammer, 2 drumsticks in his hand as he twirled them through his fingers “Whatever man it’s a trick.” He said in his normal voice shrugging.

“Well please be my guest.” Thor said extending and inviting hand out to his hammer as Steve took a drink from the flask.

“Really?” Clint questioned excitedly, at Thor’s nod he sprung up from his spot on the floor but calmly approached the hammer, not wanting to seem overly eager. Katie raised an eyebrow at Thor but he only shrugged bringing his glass up to his lips.

“Oh this is gonna’ be beautiful.” Rhodey teased setting down his cards to watch.

“Clint it’s been a tough week, we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.” Tony joked from his spot on the other couch.

“You two know I’ve seen this before right?” Clint pointed out, looking at Thor then Katie referencing the first time the 3 of them met. Thor sniggered as Clint wrapped his hand around the hammer’s handle and pulled, of course nothing happened.

“I still don’t know how you do it.” He said releasing the hammer with a laugh.

“Smell the silent judgement?” Tony continued to gibe.

“Please Stark by all means.” Clint waved a hand toward the hammer.

“Here we go.” Katie sat up slightly as Tony stood unbuttoning his suit jacket with a flourish.

“Never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It’s physics.” He shrugged. “So if I lift it do I then rule Asgard?”

“Yes of course.” Thor responded easily.

“I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta.” Tony slipped his wrist through the leather strap. He grunted pulling on the hammer but it didn’t move.

“Be right back.” Tony quickly left the room pulling off his jacket as he went.

Steve took another drink from the flask before handing it back to Thor who simply smirked as Clint continued to protest the fact they couldn’t lift the hammer was down to some kind of scientific illusion. When Tony returned they all let out a laugh as he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and a detached Iron Man gauntlet on his hand. He gripped the hammer again and pulled even engaging the thrusters but still nothing. He coaxed Rhodey into helping him with his War Machine gauntlet but even together with both thrusters fully engaged they couldn’t do it. Finally they gave up.

“Banner you want a piece?” Tony asked on his way back to his seat.

Bruce rose to the challenge but didn’t take it serious, instead pretending to Hulk out. “Nothing?” He questioned awkwardly shuffling back to his seat as Natasha’s smiled at him, shaking her head.

“Cap?” Hill questioned from where she was sat on the floor opposite, next to Clint, wearing his leather jacket. Katie shrugged when he looked to her for approval, then over her shoulder at Thor. Grinning, he placed down his drink and moved Katie’s legs from where they were swung over his, getting up to try his hand.

“C'mon Cap.” Clint grinned “No pressure.”

Steve stepped round the table, shooting a determined look at the hammer before wrapping both hands around the handle and beginning to pull.

Katie felt her mouth drop open as there was a squeak and the hammer moved ever so slightly. She cast a quick look at Thor next to her, whose playful smile had been completely wiped off his face and he was now staring intently at the item on the table. Steve readjusted his grip, pulled again gritting his teeth, then held his hands up in surrender.

“Nothing.” Thor shook his head as Katie looked at him. He avoided her stare

“I saw that.” Katie whispered into Steve’s ear when he took his seat once again, returning her legs to where they had been resting on his lap.

“Don’t know what you mean.” He said immediately, his hand curling round her leg so his fingers were resting on her thigh and gave an expectant raise of his eyebrows. Rhodey clearing his throat rather loudly, made them turn to see all of the men wearing the same look, watching her.

“Kiddo?”

“Oh no,” Katie shook her head immediately. “I know my limits.”

“Widow?” Clint looked at Nat

“Yeah that’s not a question I need answered.” Natasha said, drinking from her beer bottle and also refusing the challenge.

“All deference to the man who wouldn’t be King, but it’s rigged.” Tony brought the attention back to him as he got up to retrieve another beer. Katie gestured at him to get her one as her bottle was empty.

“You bet your ass.” Clint said.

“Steve, he said a bad language word.” Maria said her voice taking on a mocking tone pointing at Clint innocently.

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve asked looking at Katie who shrugged, then to Tony who ignored him.

“The handle’s imprinted right? Like a security code. 'Whosoever’s carrying Thor’s fingerprint’ is I think the literal translation.” Tony said finishing up on his ridiculous line of thought as he crossed to the bar.

“What an interesting theory…but I have a simpler one” Thor said, getting up off the couch and easily picking up his hammer, giving it a little toss in the air for added teasing “You’re all not worthy.”

Everyone began to protest in jest and someone threw a coaster at him from the table, when a loud screeching noise caused them all to flinch.

“Worthy?”  A deep voice drawled and they all looked over to the back of the room to see a half destroyed Iron Legion bot standing there. “No, how could you be worthy? You’re all killers.” The bot said gesturing to the group who had begun to stand in preparation.

“Stark?” Steve questioned tensely, pulling Katie behind him. In response Tony took out his phone and began poking around on it.

“Jarvis?” Tony questioned aloud when he was getting no response.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep. Or I was a dream?” the robot continued speaking tilting its head as if trying to recall a memory.

“Reboot, legionnaire we got a buggy suit.” Tony said continuing to poke at his device.

“There was a terrible noise and I was tangled, in strings.” The robot looked down, wires dangling uselessly all around it’s body. “I had to kill the other one, he was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Katie frowned.

“Wouldn’t have been my first call, but down in the real world we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor questioned with authority.

“I see a suit of armour around the world.” The robot responded but this time it was Tony’s voice that sounded.

“Ultron.” Bruce summarized with a horrified look as Katie snapped her head round to Tony who continued to stare at the robot.

“In the flesh.” Ultron tried to stand tall but failed. “Or no, not yet. Not this chrysalis.” It said looking down at its body again. “But I’m ready, I’m on a mission.”

“What mission?” Thor questioned

“Peace in our time.” Ultron said again in Tony’s voice and then the wall behind it burst open and more legionnaires flew into the room.

Everyone sprang into action. Gun shots, repulsors, people jumping onto the backs of robots… it was a short but fairly intense fight which was finished when Steve spun round and launched his shield into the last robot.

“That was dramatic.” Ultron commented still standing but swaying from side to side. Steve was stood in his typical combat stance, shield up in front of him, Clint to his left. Katie straightened up from behind the bar where she had taken cover, gun still held in front of her.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to change? With these?” It questioned reaching down to pick up one of the legionnaire’s disembodied heads, “These puppets. No. There’s only one path to peace, the Avengers extinction.”

He was cut off as Thor launched his hammer with enough force that it burst through the middle of the robot before flinging back into his hand. Steve looked at him, but Thor glared straight ahead.

They all paused for a second, each taking stock. The apartment was a mess, the bar was smashed to pieces, walls broken, windows shattered. Katie took a deep breath, lowered her gun, dropping it onto the bar top and ran her hands over her face as she stepped from behind the bar carefully, trying to avoid stepping on glass as she had kicked her shoes off earlier when they had sat down.

“You alright?” Steve asked, crossing the room and looking her over.

“Yeah, you?”

He nodded and glanced down her body gesturing with his eyes for her to do the same. She did and she noticed her dress ripped up the right hand side, stopping halfway up her torso. The skimpy underwear that she had teased Steve about before was about to become common knowledge.

”Great…” she groaned, rolling her eyes and looking around for something to cover herself up with. Steve handed her the nearest item, which turned out to be Tony’s jacket. He held it out for her and she slipped her arms into it swearing as she did so.  “Four hundred fucking notes down the drain.” and with that she turned and left with Natasha, the pair of them heading to get changed.

When Katie came back the lab was in chaos. Pepper was shouting at Tony from a speaker in the middle of one of the desks asking him why none of the servers were working. Tony, in turn, was barking instructions, to Banner and Natasha. Katie headed over to help and between the 4 of them they managed to get 3 out of the 5 StarkSats back up and running.

“All our work is gone.” Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses and looking at the computer screen in front of him.” Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch.”

“He’s been in everything. Files, surveillance…” Katie looked up from a computer screen and Nat crossed the room to look over her shoulder. 

“Great. He probably knows more about us than we know about each other.” Natasha muttered.

“He’s in your files, he’s in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?” Rhodey asked.

“Nuclear codes.” Maria Hill looked up from where she had been pulling glass out of her foot.

“Nuclear codes. Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still can.” Rhodey suggested

“Nukes? He said he wanted us dead…”. Nat said, looking round

“He didn’t say dead. He said extinct” Steve interrupted her, bristling slightly.

“He also said he killed somebody.” Clint said

“But there wasn’t anyone else in the building.” Maria looked up, tweezers poised at her foot.

“Yes there was.” Tony sighed, his shirt collar and waistcoat were both open and he flicked his phone to project a 3D image of JARVIS. Only it was completely and utterly decimated.

“No.” Katie muttered as Steve drew a deep breath, crossing his arms as he looked at the image.

“This is insane” Bruce looked at the image, running his hands through his hair.

“JARVIS was the first line of defence.” Steve said gently. “He would’ve shut Ultron down, it makes sense.”

“No, Ultron could’ve assimilated Jarvis.” Bruce shook his head. “This isn’t strategy, this is…rage”

At that point Thor stormed into the room, full battle suit on, and stomped over to Tony, wrapping his hand around his throat and picking him up off of the ground.

“Uh, it’s going around.” Clint commented calmly.

“Thor…” Katie shook her head “Let him go.”

Thor ignored her.

“Alright, c'mon,” Tony choked uselessly trying to pry off Thor’s hand to no avail the God’s grip was unrelenting. “Use your words buddy.”

“I have more than enough words to describe you Stark.” Thor sneered.

“Thor,” Steve snapped sharply. This time the God took notice and dropped Tony, still not taking his eyes off him. Steve was the only one he would ever take commands from “The legionnaire?”

“The trail went cold about a hundred miles north of here,” Thor answered turning to Steve. “And it has the sceptre, which means we have to retrieve it. Again.” He shot a look back at Tony, glaring.

“Genie’s out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.” Natasha surmised as she perched on the edge of the desk Katie was sat at, crossing her arms over her chest looking as unimpressed in Tony and Bruce’s actions as everyone felt.

“I don’t get it,” Helen Cho mumbled. “You built this program, why is it trying to kill us?”

To everyone’s disbelief Tony started laughing.

“Uh-uh.” Bruce said, shaking his head at Tony, telling him that this was no laughing matter as Katie glared at her brother, swivelling in her seat.

“You think this is funny?” Thor questioned in the same tone, looking at Tony.

“No?” Tony answered, turning to face the group, trying and failing to look serious and stop his chuckles from escaping. It didn’t work. “It’s probably not, right? Is this so terrible? Is this very terrible? Is it so, is it so…” He laughed again. “It is, it’s so terrible.”

“This could have been avoided had you not played with something you do not understand.” Thor said, his tone grave, his finger pointing at Tony.

“No, no I’m sorry,” Tony interrupted though it was unclear if he was apologizing for the interruption or apologizing for creating Ultron. “It is funny. It’s a hoot why you don’t get why we need this.”

“Tony, maybe this isn’t the time-” Bruce started to warn only for Tony to cut him off too.

“Really? That’s it for you? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls?” he whipped round to look at Banner.

“Only when I’ve created a murder-bot.” Bruce said his face sporting a look as sarcastic as his voice.

“We didn’t.” Tony stressed nearly begging. “We weren’t even close. Were we close to an interface?”

Bruce shrugs nodding to say that they were close enough.

“Well, you did something right.” Katie said, rolling her eyes.

“And you did it right here.” Steve piped up glowering at Tony. “The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD.”

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?” Tony changed the subject in lieu of a real response raising his hand in the air.

“Nope, it’s never come up.” Rhodey sarcastically responded while everyone else either groaned or rolled their eyes.

“Saved New York?”

“Never heard that.” Katie propped her elbow on the desk, chin resting in her palm.

“Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We’re standing 300 feet below it. We’re the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there?” Tony continued as his voice turned softer. “That’s, that’s the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that?”

“Together.” Steve told him his voice a lot less colder than it had been a moment ago.

“We’ll lose.” He said taking a step closer to where Steve was stood, looking at him sadly.

“Then we’ll do that together too.” Steve said determined but assured.

“Thor is right. Ultron’s calling us out.”  Katie said gently.

“Yeah, and I’d like to find him before he’s ready for us.” Steve said, looking round. “The world’s a big place. Let’s start making it smaller.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen you know?” Tony sighed eventually, “It just…”

“I suggest we get some rest.” Steve said eventually as Tony trailed off “Reconvene in a few hours, come up with some sort of plan. Unless anyone has a better idea” Of course no one did.

*****

Chapter 23 Part 2

[yesmooshoe]

hii! could you do #34 "please don't do this" from the angst/fluff list for ironhusbands? 💖

Whoops, this was supposed to be short but then I wrote 3000 words. WARNING - THERE’S SOME SMUT AT THE END.

Also, you can read it on ao3! Double also, feel free to send me a prompt if you want.

--

“Please don’t do this.” Rhodey said through gritted teeth as Tony inched closer and closer to him.

“Do what?” He asked nonchalantly as their shoulders touched.

Rhodey took a deep breath and took a step away from Tony while scanning the crowded Officer’s Mess, hoping that no one saw that. “Touch me.”

“I thought you liked it when I touched you.” Tony said, cocking his head and flashing a smile.

Rhodey could feel his blood pressure rise as he locked eyes with Tony.

He hated this.

He hadn’t seen Tony in 13 months, 12 days, and 41 minutes...not that he was counting. Tony had begged him on multiple occasions to take some time off and come meet him somewhere, even just for a night, but Rhodey hadn’t wanted to risk it. Tony was famous. Someone would have noticed that he was in Frankfurt, someone would have noticed that Rhodey was off-base, someone would have snapped a photo of them buying lube. It was too risky, way too risky.

But this? This was way worse.

Yes, Stark Industries was the main manufacturer of planes for the US Air Force. And yes, there was a brand new cargo plane making its’ debut tomorrow. So in theory, Tony being at Ramstein made perfect sense. Plus, everyone knew that they were friends. But no one, other than maybe Pepper, knew the rest. If anyone found out that he was gay, his entire military career would be over.

“Fine, no touching. Can we at least eat lunch together? I promise I wont fellate you in between bites of powdered mashed potatoes.” Tony teased under his breath.

Of course he wanted to touch him, wanted to hold him, wanted to kiss him. But he also just wanted to talk to him. They were always careful while communicating, knowing that Rhodey’s email and phone conversations weren’t necessarily private. They never said I love you, but they’d found other ways to say and show that over the years. Tony always sent really elaborate and thoughtful care packages whenever Rhodey was overseas, and Rhodey always sent Tony weird souvenirs and postcards whenever he could. Rhodey always closed his letters by reminding Tony to water his plants, and Tony always ended his saying that he hadn’t forgotten. Rhodey didn’t even have any plants, but that was their little way of saying I love you with no one noticing.

“I have a meeting.” Rhodey lied, worried that spending too much time together would raise suspicion. “Just...just come over tonight, ok? After 7.”

Tony looked annoyed, but nodded. It was the same expression he had every time Rhodey signed up for another 4 years, or whenever he told him that he was being transferred or deployed again. They both hated this, but they loved each other and Rhodey loved his job. And Tony never once asked him to stop, so all they could do was hope that one day they’d get rid of that stupid law.

“Fine. See you tonight, Captain.” Tony said as he walked away, heading toward the group of SI employees at the opposite end of the room.

--

Rhodey’s heart was racing again as the clock struck 7, and a million different scenarios started running through his head. What if Tony had done something stupid like buy condoms at the PX? What if someone saw him coming up here? Even worse, what if someone noticed him leaving in the morning? They were friends though, best friends. Everyone knew that they were friends and knew that they’d been roommates for several years at MIT. There was nothing wrong with him coming over and spending the night, right? He’d just tell everyone that they had a few beers and then Tony passed out on the couch. It’d be fine, right?

Suddenly, a knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He jumped right up and smoothed his pants out, not wanting to look like a complete mess, and then quickly crossed to the front door of his apartment, which he pulled open to reveal Tony. In one hand he was holding a pizza, and in the other a 12-pack of beer and a shopping bag.

Rhodey smiled at him as he stepped aside and let him in. He stuck his head out in the hallway to see if anyone was around, and once he was confident that the coast was clear he closed the door. Before he knew what was happening, Tony grabbed him, slammed him against the door, and started kissing him. Rhodey gave in immediately, running his hands up Tony’s back and tangling them in his hair.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, they just stood there for a moment with their foreheads resting against each other.

“Hi.” Tony panted out as his arms settled around Rhodey’s waist.

“Hi. Missed you.” Rhodey said before giving him another peck on the lips.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too. This has been a long one.”

“Just a few more months ‘til I’m back at Edwards, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Tony said as he pulled away and walked over to the counter where he’d dropped everything.

Rhodey came up behind and wrapped his arms around him, just so happy to be able to hold him again. “Well, we’ve got tonight, ok? I can promise you that.” He said in between pressing soft kisses to Tony’s neck.

Tony turned around and smiled at him, knowing that it would have to do for now. “And it’s going to be a good night indeed, Captain Rhodes.”

“You really like saying that, huh?”

“It’s hot.”

“Mmhmm.” Rhodey chuckled as he nuzzled against him. It’d only been a few weeks since his promotion.

“Oh Captain, my Captain, our night is just beginning, and I promise you it’ll be a wild one.”

“Not too wild, these walls are very thin.”

“Not to worry.” Tony said as he slipped out of his grip and grabbed the plastic bag. “Fear not, for I have rented several movies with lots of explosions that’ll certainly drown out all of your incomprehensible babbling while my tongue is buried deep in your ass in about 15 minutes.”

Rhodey could feel his cheeks getting hot as he looked down at the floor, always getting a bit flustered when Tony said stuff like that to him. “Did anyone see you at the video store? Does anyone know you’re here?”

Tony sighed as he played around with the VCR, which answered Rhodey’s question for him.

“Christ, Tony, who?” Rhodey asked, suddenly feeling anxious again.

“Calm down, ok? Look...Colonel Moore and Major Kirkland wanted to take me out to dinner, but I told them that I was coming over here to get you drunk and maybe beat your ass in Mario Kart a few times.”

“Moore and Kirkland? Tony, I work with them every day you can’t just go around telling everyone - “ Before Rhodey could finish his rant, Tony shut him up with another kiss.

“It’s fine. I promise you it’s fine. No one cares that I’m here, no one is suspicious, ok?” He said softly in between kisses. “I got pizza and shitty beer and even shittier action movies and as far as anyone knows we’re over here like a couple of perfectly normal straight dudes talking about tits and cheering when things explode, ok?”

Rhodey took a deep breath and nodded. That was certainly easy for Tony to say - it wasn’t his career and everything he’d worked for on the line - but he trusted him. “Well hey, I bet you’ll be cheering later when I explode in your ass, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Tony laughed and shook his head while playfully shoving Rhodey towards the bedroom. “That’s the spirit. Now go on, I want you completely naked by the time I’m done putting on this movie to appease your neighbors.”

Rhodey just smiled at him and pulled his shirt off as he rushed into his room. By the time he flopped onto his bed he was completely naked, though he hadn’t been wearing much to begin with. Still, it had to be a record.

He propped himself up on his elbows while laying on his back, and a huge smile spread across his face when Tony finally joined him. They took a moment to just look at each other, and even though the sound of rapid gun fire from whatever movie Tony had put on kept it from being super romantic, much like everything else, it’d do for now.

Tony’s hair was a bit longer than the last time he’d seen him, and it seemed like the goatee was here to stay. He hadn’t been sure about the facial hair at first, missing the baby-faced boy he’d fallen in love with back at school, but it really suited him. “Your hair’s wet, was it raining?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“No, I took a shower. I’m not an animal.” Tony answered while pulling his shirt off and climbing onto the bed and onto Rhodey. He leaned down and kissed him again, though this time it was more soft and more loving.

They spent a while just kissing and letting their hands get reacquainted with each other. Rhodey’s cock was hard now, and pressed up against the annoyingly still-clothed Tony. He wanted more, but he also didn’t want to stop whatever this was. He’d been so starved for attention like this for so long, so he did his best to just enjoy the gentle caresses and the way Tony’s tongue seemed to be exploring every single inch of his mouth, even though he desperately wanted Tony buried inside of him.

Eventually Tony sat up, and Rhodey just smiled as he noticed how red and puffy his lips were from all of the action so far.

“Have you...been with anyone? Since...since last time?” Tony asked quietly while slowly circling around Rhodey’s nipples with his thumbs. They had a sort of open thing, but neither really cashed in on it too much.

“No. Have you?”

“No.”

Rhodey smiled. “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you too. Roll over.” Tony instructed as he shifted to the edge of the bed.

“Yes sir.” Rhodey said as Tony pulled off his pants and boxers, finally releasing his cock.

“Mm, I like when you call me sir.” Tony said as he straddled Rhodey again. “God your ass is amazing. I feel like people don’t tell you that enough, but it really is perfect.”

Rhodey smiled at the compliment, but he was also focused on the gunfire and motorcycles coming from the TV in the next room. For a moment he worried that maybe it was too loud and that the neighbors would complain. That’s all he needed, having to run to the door mid-sex while trying to pull his sweatpants on. He considered stopping to turn it down, but all of the thoughts left his head as he felt Tony spread his ass cheeks apart and slowly run his tongue up his crack.

“Oh fuck.” Rhodey moaned while tightening his grip on the blankets he was clutching. Luckily his bed was against an exterior wall, so he wasn’t worried about being too loud in here. As Tony continued to explore, slowly circling his tongue around the rim and prodding at the hole, Rhodey became painfully aware of how desperate his cock was for attention. It was pinned between his stomach and the bed and he tried to move a bit, but it was impossible with how Tony was holding him down. “Tony please…” He cried out quietly.

“Please what?” Tony asked smugly as he pulled away. He slowly crawled up on top of Rhodey and started grinding his cock against Rhodey’s eager ass. “Come on, what do you want, Sourpatch?”

“I want you.”

“Want me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” Rhodey moaned again before Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Good boy.” He said as he sat up. “Lube?”

“Night stand. Bottom drawer.” Rhodey replied breathlessly, still not quite believing that they were together again.

“Do you want me to use a condom?” He asked as he found all of the supplies.

“No, I trust you.”

“Okay. I trust you too. Ooh, Astroglide! How retro.” Tony almost giggled as he climbed back onto the bed.

Rhodey rolled onto his back and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly as Tony got settled again.

“Hey hey, none of that. I don’t want you cumming before I even get inside of you.” Tony teased as he opened up the bottle and squirted some of the clear liquid in his hand. “You want it like this?”

Rhodey nodded as he let go of his cock. “Yeah. I want to see you.”

Tony just smiled before leaning down to give him a kiss. “Good.”

Rhodey took a deep breath while Tony grabbed a pillow and put it under his back for easier access, and Rhodey just let his legs fall open for him. They locked eyes as Tony’s slick hand found Rhodey’s hole, and stayed that way as Tony worked a finger in and out of him. They kissed more as Tony fingered him slowly, and the sensation of their cocks trapped together between their stomachs was more than enough to make Rhodey start dribbling pre-cum.

“Someone’s excited.” Tony whispered between kisses.

“Just fuck me, please.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Tony said with a little salute as he sat up and pulled his fingers out of Rhodey’s ass.

Rhodey watched as he grabbed the lube again and slicked himself up, and he braced himself for what was coming next. He sucked in a sharp breath as Tony lined himself up and pushed into his ass slowly, doing his best to relax and take it.

“Fuck!” Rhodey cried out as he arched his back, easily taking Tony’s cock deep inside of him.

“Shh shh.” Tony said as he bottomed out. “Don’t want the Joint Chiefs to hear you. You ok?”

“Yes Tony, this isn’t my first Rodeo. Just shut up and move.”

Tony laughed again as he guided Rhodey legs up to rest on his shoulders. Slowly, he started to move, thrusting in and out of and finding a good rhythm. Rhodey was letting out little gasps with each thrust at first, and as soon as Tony started to pick up the pace he wrapped his hand around his cock and started stroking in rhythm with the thrusts. He forced himself to open his eyes, and he smiled at the determined look on Tony’s face as he loomed over the top of him.

“God Tony, I’m so close. Faster.” He moaned again, gripping at the bad with his free hand. This was all happening a bit faster than Rhodey had hoped, but it had been a while and he was certain he’d last longer on the next round.

Tony started snapping his hips faster, losing his composure as he got closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, I’ve missed this.” He managed to say before grabbing Rhodey’s hips and slamming him back down on his cock as they both chased release.

They fell silent for a while, but the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and a huge series of explosions from the living room.

It was Rhodey who came first, spraying his stomach with an explosion of creamy, white liquid as Tony continued to ride him harder and faster. It was becoming too much for Rhodey, overwhelmed by his own own orgasm. “Fuck, come on Tony. Give me everything.” He chanted through gritted teeth, which seemed to be just enough to push him over.

Tony came with an indistinguishable string of syllables, which he quickly muffled as he continued to thrust, filling Rhodey with everything that he had. They were both panting as Tony finished up and let his cock slip out of him, but despite how out of it Rhodey felt, Tony seemed to have a bit more in mind for this first session.

As Tony caught his breath he leaned down and ran his tongue over Rhodey’s toned stomach, lapping up the streams of cum that were splattered all over him. Rhodey just relaxed as Tony cleaned him up, tugging on his shaggy brown hair as he did. When Tony was done he crawled up and gave Rhodey a kiss, allowing him to taste some of the salty substance that remained on his lips.

“Do you want pizza?” Tony asked after a few moments of silence, which just made both of them laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.” Rhodey said as he playfully shoved Tony off of him.

“What? I’m hungry. And we gotta keep up our stamina. We’ve got 12 hours to make up for 12 months.” Tony teased as he sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah well, I wanted to give you something nice and long to grab onto later when we get really dirty.” Tony said as he stood up.

Rhodey just shook his head. “Fine. But I’m taking you to a barber before you leave. Also, it’s not been 12 months.”

“Hm?”

“It’s not been 12 months. It’s been 13 months, 12 days, 7 hours, and 38 minutes.” He said as another explosion rang out in the living room.

“Oh, and I’m the ridiculous one? Come on, pizza.”

“Tony?” Rhodey called out as he started to leave. He wanted to promise him that they wouldn't go 13 months without seeing each other again. He wanted to promise that he’d be back in California soon. He wanted to promise that he wouldn’t re-up again when the time came.

But he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. He shook his head, vowing to do his best to not dwell on any of that right now. They had tonight, and that was what was important.

Tony was just staring at him, confused by the silence. “Yes?”

“Nothing.  I’m just - I’m sorry.”

Tony walked back over to the bed and held out his hand. “Don’t be, I knew what I was signing up for, ok? Come on, pizza time. And if you’re lucky I’ll let you fuck me next round.” He said as he pulled him up and led him into the kitchen.

“Tell you what. Mario Kart. Loser has to bottom, all right?” Rhodey suggested with a huge smile on his face.

Tony just smiled. “Fine, but I hope you’re ready for me to ride your ass all night, Captain.” He said as he grabbed the box of pizza and headed for the living room.

Again, none of this was ideal. But right now, in this stupid apartment with thin walls in the middle of Germany, everything was perfect.

[lovelyirony]

my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme (And All Of My Peaches)

@peachy-keener to the best of the best ;), and @angxlsgrxce, the extension of the prompt that she filled! the prompt was not taken quite literally: set during fall...but i think that it makes the best of it 

Harley had grown up going to his grandparents’ house on his Dad’s side for years. He had grown up chasing his cousins around, Grams chastising him for being skinny as a bean pole. 

“You’re just like your Papa,” she’d say, stirring the cider at the stove as Harley “helped.” (Ate most of the cranberries.) 

“Good,” he’d say, mouth stained a brilliant purple. 

“Not good,” Dad would say, swinging his son into his arms and peppering him with kisses all over his cheek. “That means I have two insomniacs.” 

“But you also have a Pepper at your disposal,” Papa said, coming in from behind. “Hey Mama, thanks for letting our little bambino steal berries from you.” 

“It’s why I buy extra,” she says with a wink. 

As Harley grew up, he’d seen near-about-everything that happened. He’d heard all the stories, but his favorite was about the year Tony finally got to visit. 

“They thought we wouldn’t know,” Grandpa said, cutting up the ham with a laugh. “My damn fool son thought that I wouldn’t notice when he was gone on somebody.” 

“Language, dad,” he would say, and Harley would grin up at his dad. 

“He doesn’t need a lesson in what not to say,” Grandpa would say. “And you’re ruining the story. Anyways, here they are, cuddled up in a blanket...” 

Harley wants that. He wants to find someone he loves so much to bring home. He wants to dance with them in the kitchen when they’re supposed to be on clean-up, crooning to scratchy old records that made it past college dorm rooms. 

He wants to look across the table and smile fondly, and hold hands with whoever it is. 

His parents tell him it’ll be soon. 

“Before you know it, my mad scientist,” Dad says, grinning. “You’ll find someone that you’ll take their breath away.” 

“And hopefully it’s not because they’re asthmatic,” Papa quips. 

Harley giggles. 

“Goodnight bambino,” Tony tells his son. “Get good rest and wake up happy tomorrow.” 

“I promise,” Harley says sleepily. “Mostly.” 

Tony and Rhodey leave his room, and they smile at each other. 

“It’ll be too soon,” Rhodey says to his husband. “And then he will grow up.” 

“And we will be there for all of it,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Besides, I can’t wait to see who Harley finds.” 

Harley meets a boy from Queens who talks a bit more than necessary, accidentally slapped him in the face while emphasizing his point about Jurassic Park during lunch, and has the most brilliant smile he’s ever seen. 

He can’t believe he knows him. 

Also, that they work together. Kind of. It’s an internship, but they also take most of the time to discuss conspiracy theories and challenge Ned with different programming games. 

“What do you think about adding some extra web spots on the sides?” Peter asks him. 

Harley is staring. A lot. 

Peter is wearing a good shirt. Funny pun. He is the funniest. And the cutest. He has these laughter lines by his eyes that always come up when he’s laughing really hard, and it’s so cute, and--

“Uh...Harley? You okay?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Um. Yeah. I’m all good. You were saying about side-lining your webslingers? Why?” 

“No, moving some to the side,” Peter says. “Like this.” 

Harley frowns at the diagram. 

“No, you splay out your hands too much when you’re Spidey. Web gets caught, you end up getting thrown at a ninety-degree angle or something. Skip it.” 

“How do I never think about the most obvious things,” Peter mutters. 

Harley has it on the tip of his tongue to mention that he is completely gone on him, and everyone knows it. Including his parents, which he isn’t exactly a fan of. 

Especially since Rhodey has been behind Peter at his work desk, mock-batting his eyelashes and throwing hearts up on any single display screen that Friday has control of. (She essentially staged a coup, and Jarvis let her.) 

“Dad,” Harley hisses out. “Stop.” 

“Stop what?” Peter asks, grin on his face. “What are you guys doing?” 

“Oh, nothing much,” Dad says. “But, that does remind me that I need to be doing something, and that is discussing Thanksgiving. We’re leaving for Grams’ early, around eight.” 

“Then cider!” Harley says, grinning. He turns towards Peter. “What about you, what plans you got?” 

“Oh, I think I’m going to attempt to make myself a mean turkey sandwich while May’s out,” Peter says. “Had to be on-duty for this year, but she gets Christmas off this year.” 

“What?” Harley says. “You’re not going over to Ned’s or anything?” 

“Ned’s visiting with Betty’s family, and MJ...I don’t know what she’s doing, but it’s something with family. She’s been sending me depressing poetry for half-an-hour.” 

Harley snorts. 

“Well that sucks, Peter. Sorry to hear that.” 

“It’ll be okay!” Peter says. “Just means I get to watch Star Wars with no complaints from you or Ned about my choices.” 

"I will find a way to have you avoid watching the prequels, they all suck.” 

“Sure they do,” Peter says. “That’s why everyone still watches them.” 

“It’s because everyone likes to make fun of them, not because they’re quality.” 

Peter laughs. 

“Maybe you’re right. But I gotta get going, Aunt May is trying to cook again.” 

Rhodey winces. 

“You want me to call Vietnamese food to-go ahead of time?” 

“I’ll see if I can help her any.” 

Harley waves goodbye, telling him to text when he got home. 

“I’m Spidey, I know how to get home safely,” Peter says, smiling anyways. “But I will. Anyway. Just to humor you.” 

“You have run into a telephone pole as Spidey before, you truly still think I have faith in you?” 

“I think a little bit of faith. Maybe a tad.” 

Harley rolls his eyes. 

“Go home before May successfully burns down the apartment complex this time.” 

“Will do!” 

Peter smiles one last time before exiting. 

“You, my dear son, are in love,” Rhodey announces. 

“Dad!” Rhodey snickers. 

“You did not learn subtlety from me, you learned it from your Papa, which is to say: you have learned no subtlety. It’s not my fault you’re entertaining.” 

“Ugh.” 

- 

But Harley keeps thinking about Peter. 

He knows that Peter is going to hate being alone, no matter how much he would actually watch the prequels. Peter hates being alone anyways. He’s always at least with someone, can’t stand being by himself. 

And on a holiday? One that’s usually spent with family of some kind? 

Well...it shouldn’t be that way. 

So at dinner, as Dad and Papa are talking about some sort of update on a phone, and Harley says it. 

“Can I invite Peter to Thanksgiving?” 

Dad and Papa stop. 

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Papa says softly, grinning. “I’m assuming it’s because he told you that May is on duty for that day?” 

“Yeah. I don’t think...I don’t want him to spend it alone.” 

His parents share a look, a look that they’ve shared a million times, one filled with soft understanding and so much love. 

“I’ll let Grams know we have an extra guest,” Tony says. “After all, it is my turn.” 

Dad snorts. 

“Sure it is, honey. Alright, Harley, call him up.” 

Harley grins, practically giddy. He’s excited to share this with Peter, to have him in this life. 

(And yeah, he’s hoping that it’s like the stories that Dad tells him at night, the ones over iced water and quiet reassurances late at night.) 

He presses the contact information, smiles as Peter answers on the second ring. 

“Harley, did I forget something?” 

“I don’t think so, no. But I wanted to ask you something.” 

“W-what did you want to ask me?” Peter asks. His voice sounds faint, almost nervous. 

“You sound weird. You okay?” 

“Yes. I am more than okay. I am perfection.” 

“Okay loser, don’t tell me. But I wanted to invite you to Thanksgiving with us.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. No one should be alone.” 

“I mean, I don’t want to trouble you. I can be fine on my own.” 

“Peter, you are a terrible liar. You hate being alone. Besides, you’ve never had Grams’s cider before, and that clearly needs to be fixed.” 

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Peter says, laughing. “What do I need to bring?” 

“A blanket and maybe a sleeping bag if you got one. If not, no big deal, we just usually stay the night since it can be a bit of a drive.” 

“You sure you still want me coming?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Um...it’s family time?” 

“You’re close to me, Peter,” Harley says. “And I want you around all the time. I’m just glad you wanna come. You’re gonna love Grams.” 

“Okay. What time should I swing around Stark Tower?” 

“Uh...lemme ask.” 

Harley hops off his bed, phone at his shoulder. 

“Papa, what time do you want Peter over for the ride?” 

“Seven-thirty!” Tony says. “Unless you two want to canoodle before you’re stuck in the car with us geezers or something.” 

“Stop!” Harley hisses, glaring at his father as he snickers. “Uh, Peter, did you hear any of that?” 

“Something your Papa said made you yell, but nothing else?” 

“Okay, get here by seven-thirty in the morning, if that’s okay.” 

“I’ll set my alarms.” 

“Alarms?” 

“Well, I don’t wake up that easily.” 

“And here I thought Spidey-Sense was real.” 

“Hey!” 

- 

Harley decides he’s made either the worst decision of his life or the best, and it all depends on if Papa catches him staring so blatantly at Peter. 

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. He leans against the kitchen counter, and he’s still in an over-sized sweater with a scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. Harley really wants to fix it, just reach out. It’d be so easy, so cute 

“Harley I swear to god, please get your bag in the car before it becomes like the worst-family-picture-event,” Papa says. 

Peter seems to perk up at that. 

Of course. 

“What would the worst family picture be?” 

Rhodey already has his phone out. 

“Harley forgot his bag, which had all of his clothes. Only a Wal-Mart was open, and...” 

Head-to-toe sports neon. It was bad. Harley was frowning with his brows lowered in an obviously-frustrated expression while Tony and Rhodey sandwiched him, obviously bemused by the happenings of the holiday. 

Peter laughs. 

“Aw, you were so cute when you were little,” he says, smiling. “Really cute.” 

“Even in neon?” 

“Well, you’re cute in anything. Even neon.” 

Harley nearly spills his coffee. 

The ride there is mostly quiet. Tony hums along to the music, smiling slowly at some as Dad explains how Papa was the worst dancer on earth. 

“Not as bad as Peter,” Harley pipes up. 

“Harley.” 

“Oh come on, it’s cute,” he teases. “The way your arms flail like spaghetti is endearing.” 

“See if you get a sandwich from Delmar again.” 

“Oh the tragedy,” Harley moans. “No sandwich from Delmar!” 

Peter laughs. 

“You two get some sleep, Mama isn’t gonna stop bothering you two,” Tony decides moments later. “Come on.” 

Getting to sleep is...not easy. Especially when you’re supposed to. But Peter smiles. 

“Share a playlist with me?” 

“Sure.” 

Peter’s music taste is amazing. Seriously. Harley usually sticks with what Papa plays, although occasionally he’ll foray into some of what MJ plays. 

Peter’s music is relaxing. It’s light, easy. There are undercurrents of a deeper meaning, and what the memories make it be. 

The current song reminds him of the end of the summer that year, when they had an end-of-summer-picnic and he fell into the pond, and Peter couldn’t stop laughing and took about a million pictures of Harley actually in the water. 

"You remembering that time I fell?” Harley says, grinning at Peter. 

“I’m remembering how good my photos turned out,” Peter says, although he smiles. “You made a fantastic model. You always do.” 

Harley turns red. 

“Um, thanks. I always have a great photographer, wouldn’t you know it?” 

This time, Peter turns red. 

“I’m gonna try to take a nap,” he says. “Mind if I use your blanket?” 

“Not at all.” 

And Peter settles against his shoulder. 

It’s uncomfortable, but hell if Harley minds it. He smells good, and he’s so soft. He probably needs sleep. Knowing Peter, he probably stayed up half the night with homework, or something that had been a project for SI. 

Rhodey catches his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and nods. 

After all, there’ll be more than enough questioning when they get to Mama’s. 

- 

Harley gently jostles Peter awake as they pull into the driveway. It looks like some cousins are already there, and Mama is already halfway out the door, most likely intent on attacking her son-in-law in kisses and hugs, and seeing how tall Harley has grown. (One inch, but now he’s taller than Tony.) 

“My baby!” she declares, attacking Harley in kisses. 

“Grams,” Harley whines. “I need to help Peter out of the car.” 

“Oh let me see him,” she says, grinning widely. 

“Don’t make him scared of us.” 

“Why would we be scary?” 

“I’m not mentioning the incident of 2011.” 

“That was one time!” 

And then Peter is out the car, grinning. His cheeks are flushed from warmth, and he’s already helping take out the luggage and the dishes from the car. 

“You must be Mrs. Rhodes, it’s good to meet you.” 

“Call me Grams, young man,” she says, eyes sparkling as she turns to Tony. “He reminds me of you at this age.” 

“I was not nearly so scrawny,” Tony says with a wink. “I was charming and devastatingly handsome.” 

“Oh yes, because nothing says devastatingly handsome like train tracks for a mouth,” Rhodey deadpans. 

“And yet what did we do in your room? As I recall, you--” 

“Tony!” Grams admonishes. “Not in front of the kids, and not in front of me.” 

Tony smiles sheepishly. 

“What can I say? I have wormed my way into your heart.” 

“Unfortunately,” Rhodey says. “Peter, watch out for Tony. He can get away with anything, he’s Mama’s favorite. Even though I’m her son.” 

“Well when you fix a finicky Ford in freezing weather, tell me immediately.” 

“Still?” 

“Still!” 

Harley drags Peter, holding his hand. 

“Come on, you have to meet everyone still.” 

- 

Peter is just a bit overwhelmed, but mostly laughing as Harley takes him around the house. 

He meets Grams and Grandpa and hears all about Harley’s embarrassing stories, and he thinks it is rather nice, the dusting of red that Harley gets on his cheekbones. 

It’s a bit odd. Usually, he and May just watch Seinfeld reruns on the couch, or sometimes May has a friend’s apartment that they go to. 

They’ve given up on ever fixing an Official Thanksgiving Dinner after Ben, and maybe it’s too bittersweet a memory, or maybe it’s because when Ben died, there went the last of the talented Parkers in the kitchen. 

So Peter is surprised when Harley leads him to the kitchen to help him prepare the potatoes. 

“I make the best roasted potatoes,” Harley says. “It’s from the family cookbook, but I always add a little extra.” 

He leans in conspiratorially, and Peter catches a whiff of his cologne. 

“It’s extra onion. Don’t tell Papa-Tony-he’s been trying to get it for forever.” 

“I shall promise,” Peter says solemnly, saluting. “Scout’s honor.” 

“Were you ever in the program?” 

“For a year. I dropped out after I accidentally almost became a missing persons case.” 

“Please tell me it was because you chased a butterfly.” 

“How did you-?” Peter splutters. “How did you guess?!” 

“It’s a you thing, and I know you,” Harley says, poking his shoulder. “Now come on, help me peel potatoes before Grams makes you set dishes with Aunt Lola. She’s nice, but...talks a lot.” 

“I gathered.” 

It’s peaceful, almost. Peter works easily, handing peeled potatoes to Harley, and when they’re all done, helping chop them. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Harley says. “I, um. I wanted you here.” 

“You...you did?” 

“You’re the best person in my life,” Harley says softly. “And I, well, I--” 

“Harley!” comes a yell. 

He seems frustrated to Peter’s eyes. 

“What, Dad?” 

“Come here and help me with an air mattress for your cousin Vince!” 

“Why can’t he help?” 

“He’s supervising your Aunt Jeannie at the store!” 

“Why does she need supervision?” 

“She watched Chopped!” 

Peter laughs as Harley huffs. 

“Well, we’ll come back to it,” he says softly. “Don’t worry.” 

Peter finishes with the potatoes, and moves onto the onions. He looks at the stained page in front of him, and sees a small addition in Harley’s unmistakable engineer-block-writing about more onions. 

He smiles. 

He wonders if when he grows up, they’ll have a-- 

OH. 

Well. It’s not exactly a surprising thought. He’s been in love with Harley since freshman year of high school, after their second week of gym when Harley dramatically decided to pass out and shorten the class by about twenty minutes.

When Harley looked back and grinned at Peter, right at him, it was then and there that he fell.  

(MJ called him “the most love-struck boy in the world”.) 

- 

Harley bounds down the stairs, grinning as he sees Peter at the table, helping Grams with the cider. 

“You’re trusting someone to help you after all this time?” 

“You finally bringing someone after all this time?” 

“Grams, I’m still young.” 

Her eyes sparkle as she pushes some cranberries towards Harley. 

“Picked out some extra. And I remember when your Dad was your age, don’t think I don’t have the guts to tell the stories.” 

She gets up from the table. 

“You know the recipe by heart, love. Help your guy with it.” 

Harley slides into her seat, grinning softly at her. 

“Thanks Grams.” 

“I’ll come and see your results in a bit.” She smiles fondly. 

Peter and Harley are alone. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

Harley turns red. 

“So, um. Is it okay if I’m awkward for a minute? And I don’t know how you’ll feel about it, but I think it’ll be okay.” 

“You’re always awkward,” Peter says softly. He’s stopped cutting up the oranges, knife laid to the side. 

“Well. Um. Yeah.” 

“Harley,” Peter starts out. “You can tell me anything. I promise you that it will be okay.” 

Harley looks at him. And really looks at him. 

“Can I...can I dance with you?” 

Peter’s eyes widen. 

“Really?” 

It’s getting late, the night already dark for hours. The family is quieting down, and most have retired to their respective rooms. 

“Yeah, really.” 

Harley drops a record on the old player, smiling as the familiar croonings of Bing Crosby lift over the house. It’s a favorite of his dads: Only Forever. 

Peter stills as he hears the lyrics: 

Do I want to be with you as the years come and go? Only forever, if you care to know...

“You mean...?” 

“I mean it all, darling. I mean it all.” 

Peter smiles and there’s almost a tear in his eye as he leans his head on Harley’s shoulder. 

“I love you, Harley Keener.” 

They sway like that for a moment, and all is well. Harley breathes out, and he listens to Peter’s heartbeat slow down. It’s a good moment. 

-

For their wedding album, Tony surprises them with a picture of their first dance. The real one.

Harley absolutely does not cry and if anyone says that they saw him, they are lying liars who have received uninformed news. 

(No matter what his husband tells them.) 

[stovetuna]

I really want to ask for stevetony + Exes AU? I'm so weak for the pining and angst of the getting back together trope

same??? I know I shouldn’t but I am nothing if not weak. I hope you like it! I want to say this is 616, because Tony’s self-loathing here feels like peak 616!Tony to me, but not set at any specific point in time. 

- - -

For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating.

Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

Looking back on it now, those six months were just stolen time, a pocket-life Tony knew he’d never get to live out to its fullest, but he likes to think he took advantage of every second of it.

That’s a lie. He wasted it. He knows that now, better than he’s known anything in his entire life, and that includes JARVIS’s coding and what it felt like when Obie forcibly removed the arc reactor from his chest. He spent six incredible, heartwarming, spine-melting, almost-picture-perfect months in a relationship with Steve Rogers, a man he’d been in love with for years before that, and no one knew about it. 

Because as it turns out, Tony Stark is a coward.

Tony puts down the razor and stares at himself in the mirror. A mask of dread with a freshly sculpted goatee stares back. It’s too early for that much feeling, but this is the position he’s put himself in.

It’s also his first day back in the city after spending the past six weeks in Malibu, “to make sure SI feels equally loved,” as he told the team at their last group dinner (while pointedly ignoring Steve sitting across from him at the table and the fact that even then he couldn’t not see the way the man’s face fell at the news). 

Obviously that’s only half of the story, but no one needs to know about how Tony spent most of those six weeks moping around in that big empty house wearing grubby shirts and eating pints of half-melted Half Baked ice cream out of the container (and then exercising himself sick to make up for it).

Now, he’s got a fresh full-body tan from time spent in the sun, a slew of new tech ideas for the team (including an infinitely better low-profile tracking device for Natasha, because who says he doesn’t do nice things for people), a mostly-rested brain, and a packed schedule that will allow for very little—if any—interaction with Steve. 

It’ll be fine, he tells himself, watching condensation streak through the remnants of steam on the mirror. This is just like any other breakup, only slightly complicated by the fact that he leads a team of superheroes with his ex, and was best friends with his ex for years before they got together, and still thinks the world of his ex, and still wants his ex, and is still madly in love with his ex. 

Just like he did in California, Tony doesn’t think about the bottomless pit of empty taking up valuable real estate in his stomach as he wanders from the bathroom and starts arranging himself into a vaguely Tony Stark-shaped person. 

Autopilot is as useful a function in the Iron Man suit as it is in the rest of his life, especially these past six weeks—buttoning his shirt, Tony notices but doesn’t worry about how he can’t feel the fabric under his fingers, or the pinch of his dress shoes as he pulls those on; the world has been slightly out of focus ever since he and Steve broke up, and the feeling of walking through life with only half the lights on upstairs and a black hole where his viscera used to be is all too familiar. 

It’s how he felt years ago, dying slowly, then quickly—not quickly enough—of palladium poisoning. 

The device that is keeping you alive is also killing you.

He chooses a pair of gunmetal grey sunglasses with fluorescent red lenses to go with the Tom Ford suit he somehow managed to put on right. Before walking out the penthouse door, Tony checks himself in the massive, frameless mirror: everything is in its right place. He looks like had a nice vacation and came home without a care in the world. He doesn’t look like a man who broke his own heart out of cowardice and is now walking through life with self-inflicted blood poisoning. 

If he tries hard enough, harder than he did back then, no one will notice anything is wrong. 

It’s just Tony’s luck that the first person he runs into is Steve, glowing from a workout (it’s Thursday, Tony remembers, which mea ns cardio and time on the heavy bag) and just as beautiful as the last time Tony saw him. 

“I’ll give you space, as much as you need, I promise. Trust me, this is for the best.” 

Steve’s not crying, but it sounds like a near thing. His face is drawn, flush with emotions Tony doesn’t want to read into, but even distraught Steve is still the most gorgeous thing Tony’s ever seen. Then Steve is reaching out with both hands and he has to back away. “Tony, just, wait—”

He looks almost small, vulnerable in a way Tony isn’t used to, and the only thing he really wants to do in that moment, standing in Steve’s bedroom surrounded by moving boxes (an hour ago they were getting ready to move in together—funny, how quickly things change), is take Steve into his arms and keep him there where it’s safe. But that vaguely possessive urge living constantly under his skin is what led to this, this crossroads which finds Tony doing the one thing he never wanted to do: “I can’t, Steve, I’m…I asked you for all the wrong things and now you’re miserable, and you—God, you of all people deserve happiness. The least I can do now is let you go so you can find it.”

Tony manages to say it without dying, which might be a miracle. He’ll call the pope later and ask. When he leaves Steve’s room, it’s to the miserable sound of Steve’s voice breaking in the middle of Tony’s name. By the time he shuts the door behind him, it’s too late to wonder if this is all a huge mistake, but Tony still feels part of his heart splinter off to stay behind with Steve, where it belongs.

Funny how after six weeks away with no contact of any kind, all that R&R and R&D and B&Js and G&Ts, one look at Steve is enough to put Tony right back where he started, heartsore and winded like the hurt is forcing the air from his lungs. 

Steve looks—he looks good, of course he does, but Tony was always especially weak for slightly disheveled and endearingly domestic Steve Rogers wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. It doesn’t help that Steve looks happy, like the past six weeks have done exactly what Tony dreaded and hoped they’d do when he broke up with him, like Steve’s had time to finally breathe freely, spread his wings a bit, experience the world in ways he never got to with Tony when they were together.

He looks lighter. Younger. Fuller. More. It’s enough to crush something in Tony that feels remarkably like one last ember of hope, the bitterly selfish hope that Steve was as wrecked by the breakup as Tony.

“Welcome back!” Steve says with a bright smile, wiping sweat from his brow with an end of the towel hanging around his neck. “How was California?” 

Tony is distantly aware of his mouth hanging open, but he’s too caught up in how awful he feels seeing that smile on Steve’s face to respond. He shouldn’t be surprised, after all, that Steve is happier not dating Tony—it’s why Tony broke up with him in the first place. Steve was miserable, and now he’s not. Mission accomplished. 

“Hey,” he finally manages to respond, even as he ducks out of Steve’s path toward the kitchen to make coffee (he’s already had a cup, but he needs to busy his hands and have something to look at that’s not Steve’s perfect fucking face). “California’s the same as it ever was. Rhodey says hi.” 

Behind him, Steve hums thoughtfully. “Hi, Rhodey,” he says, knowing Tony will pass it on, because of course Steve would, and of course Tony will. Tony scoops ground coffee from a bag, not caring which one he’s dipping into, and fills the bottom of the French press as the electric kettle comes to a hissing boil. 

“Anything happen while I was gone?”

When Steve speaks again, he’s much, much closer, and Tony wishes like hell that that didn’t make every single hair on his arms stand on end, that the low baritone of Steve’s voice didn’t make Tony shudder and want to bend himself over the counter. That part of their relationship is over. He has to move on.

“Not much,” Steve replies, easygoing, like having this conversation isn’t the last thing he wants to be doing this morning. Tony knows deep down that this is just Steve playing nice, doing his best to mend fences for the sake of the team. If possible, the knowledge just makes Tony feel worse, which he didn’t think was possible. “I’ve been working on putting together intel on possible new recruits, like we discussed. Want to take a look?” 

Like we discussed, he says, Tony thinks to himself as the kettle clicks off, ready to pour. Steve’s sense of diplomacy is truly on another level, considering how this exact topic of conversation came up in the first place. 

“I’m not saying we’re not enough, Steve,” he says, willing his hands to stay at his sides, “I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have more bodies on the team so that the next time we get hit with a Galactus or something like it, we’re not scrambling for reinforcements at the last minute.”

Steve, still sitting at the now-empty conference table, pinches the bridge of his nose and frowns. 

“What we need is for the team—our team—to work together better. We need to cultivate what we have, not pad the ranks and hope for the best.” 

“And we will! But we can also think ahead and save ourselves a lot of stress and pain and suffering down the line.” Tony knows his frustration has reached its boiling point the moment he snaps: “I mean for fuck’s sake, Steve, I thought you were good at multitasking.”

The look Steve gives him is dark, but not exactly angry. It’s the kind of look he gets whenever he wants to make Tony listen to something Tony thinks he doesn’t want to hear. Usually it involves compliments or Steve verbally placing value on Tony’s life. It also usually involves—

Tony isn’t surprised when he blinks and finds himself pinned to the wall, Steve fitting himself in the space between his thighs like he belongs there (which he does. He absolutely does). One month in and the experience of Steve manhandling him like a pro still hasn’t lost its electric thrill; if anything, it’s only gotten headier, more dizzying, the best high Tony’s ever experienced, and it’s heightened by the fact that he’s the only one who gets to have it. 

He opens up for Steve’s bruising kiss like he’ll die without it. Groaning, Tony falls deep into the pleasure of it, of Steve’s tongue fucking into his mouth like he owns the place, hot, wet suction unraveling any lingering arguments Tony might have. He throws his arms around Steve’s neck and a leg around his waist, a question in the gesture that gets answered immediately when Steve picks Tony up by his thighs and wraps both legs around his hips.

Everything is heat and the raw, jagged edge of their mutual frustration, Steve scrambling at the zips on Tony’s undersuit with fumbling fingers even as his clever tongue continues its single-minded precision assault on Tony’s. Tony whines when he feels the skin of his ass and thighs meet the open air of the conference room. They’re thousands of feet above ground aboard the helicarrier, about to fuck in a public space, and even as Tony moans lewdly at the thought of being discovered in flagrante delicto with Steve Rogers, a small and insidious part of him reels at it, desperate to keep this whole thing under wraps and to themselves. 

Steve is the best thing—person—Tony’s ever had. He’s been half in love with him for years and now, having him like this, Tony can’t believe how much time he wasted. Sometimes he catches himself thinking about how it’ll be when they’re old and grey and married, the soft domesticity of their well-deserved retirement, Tony working on vintage cars in the garage while Steve fills the top floor of a house with paintings, and it doesn’t scare him as much as it probably should. 

But he hasn’t told Steve how much the thought of going public scares him. How terrified he is of losing Steve to the rest of the world, which will tear them limb from limb the moment it learns of their relationship. The Stark PR machine will kick into overdrive to smooth things over, and on the surface everything will appear fine, but it won’t change the fact that they will never know privacy again; every photo taken of them in battle, out in the world, together or separate, will be subject to a level of scrutiny Tony knows only too well, but which Steve has never experienced. It’s horrible. Infuriating. Invasive, demoralizing, and not a little bit traumatizing. When Tony told Steve about Princess Diana’s death, long before any of this—them—started, he couldn’t wipe the memory of Steve’s devastated and furious expression from his mind for weeks.

They’ll talk, eventually. For now, Steve takes Tony apart with his fingers, slick with lube he keeps in his belt, his other hand curled over Tony’s mouth so he can press up hard against him and whisper things in his ear, dirty promises that make Tony’s toes curl: “Always like riling me up, don’t you, Stark,” he grunts, fucking his fingers up into Tony like it’s his job, slicking him inside and out and grinding the heel of his palm against the sensitive spot behind his balls on every third thrust until the only coherent thought running through Tony’s mind is Steve’s name. 

Silenced by the hand over his mouth, Tony expresses his feelings by pushing back against Steve’s hand in perfect synchrony as he squeezes his bared thighs against Steve’s waist, which, fuck, he’s still wearing the suit, they need to have post-mission arguments more often. “Yeah, that’s it,” Steve rumbles against his cheek, burying a third finger, thick and dripping into Tony’s ass as he does, “you just want me to fuck you like this all the time, don’t you? Keep you pinned and open so I can slide in any time I want.” Tony keens against Steve’s palm, nodding so hard he dizzies himself; Steve groans and moves his hand to open Tony’s mouth with his thumb. “Say it, Tony,” he orders, and that’s definitely his Captain America voice, fuck—

“Want you to keep me open,” he gasps, helpless to stop from drooling all over Steve’s thumb still perched on his bottom lip as his other hand drives Tony into a frenzy, hard and insistent but not hitting him where he needs it, it’s not enough, “never want you to stop fucking me, want you to fill me up until I leak, plug me u-up—ungh, fuck, Steve…”

“I would,” Steve says before kissing Tony again, slow and sensual the way his fingers aren’t, fanning out and plunging in again and again and again until Tony can feel how exposed he is, gaping and trembling and so, so wet. Steve’s still kissing him when he pulls his hand out and, after a moment’s fumbling, drops his belt and opens the front of his uniform pants. 

Tony moans into the scorching kiss when Steve drags the head of his massive cock through the lube dripping out of him, fisting the rest of his length with what’s left on his hand from fingering Tony open. “Can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t want to,” he whispers, covering Tony’s mouth with his hand again as he guides his dick into that too-empty place inside Tony. He slides in, watching Tony’s face with a possessive gleam in his eye, cheeks and ears red with arousal and exertion. That hot, slick slide makes his head spin every time, the stretch an incontrovertible reminder that this is Steve, Steve who slots so perfectly into place like he belongs there, who fills Tony to absolute capacity and then fucks him so good it’s any wonder Tony can keep quiet. He holds Steve’s hand over his mouth and presses down to smother the noises leaking out him, high-pitched whines and gasps as Steve drives in deep and pulls out to the tip, looking down to admire the view with a dangerous smile before plunging back in hard and fast, pinging Tony’s prostate spot-on every time like it was a fucking doorbell. He does it once, twice, slow and steady as he considers the angle and the pace, watching his dick glisten before disappearing back into Tony’s all-too-willing-body, and then he gives Tony a look, and Tony knows he’s doomed. 

It’s quick and dirty and wet and Steve has to bite Tony’s neck to keep himself quiet; Tony hangs on for dear life as Steve bounces him ruthlessly on his cock, holding him up against the wall by the strength of his chest against Tony’s and his broad, heavy hand over Tony’s mouth and the constant, driving force of his hips as he fucks him. The belly of Steve’s uniform brushing up against the head of Tony’s otherwise untouched dick every time Steve plunges into him is the most erotic kiss, a damp buss of sweat and pre-come against kevlar and leather that sets every one of Tony’s nerve endings on edge.

“So good, Tony, oh, fuck—” Steve groans under his breath, palming Tony’s thigh before pulling the leg out wide to better accommodate his bulk. Tony can’t think; he can only barely remember to breathe. He might be making a noise, but if he is only dogs and supersoldiers can hear it, probably. What were they fighting about again? What’s his last name? The only word in his head is Steve, SteveSteveSteveSteveohfuckSteve…

“Take it so good, Tony, yes, baby, yes, yes…” Steve holds Tony close in his powerful grip as he comes, shaking and gasping, inside Tony’s ass. Tony can feel the throb of it against his rim, the heat and heft of Steve’s dick inescapably everywhere inside him, and then he keeps going, fucking Tony with his big, beautiful cock in a rapid battery of thrusts, loud and sloppy with his come, never letting up on Tony’s prostate even as he trembles and gasps against Tony’s shoulder like he’s just run a marathon. Tony’s eyes roll up inside his head. Everything is buzzing, his blood pure fire with the need to come; he hasn’t shot off untouched in years, but trust Steve Rogers to surprise Tony every which way from Sunday. Steve is whispering in his ear again, praising him as the fingers of his free hand drift down to feel where they’re connected, the froth of Steve’s come easing the roughness of that touch. Tony chokes on a cry. The knot of orgasm is right there in his pelvis—all Steve has to do is fuck him, there, right, there, yes, oh, fuck…

“So beautiful, Tony. Love watching you come for me.” 

Steve pulls his hand away as Tony comes and kisses him, swallows the desperate sounds of his orgasm like he’s starved for them. He keeps Tony pinned safely to the wall as Tony’s legs give out and shoots ropes of come all over his own chest. He’s shaking like a leaf from head to toe and can’t even muster enough bandwidth to feel shame—Steve loves it, after all, and says so, kissing the words one by one into his mouth like tiny prayers. Loves the way Tony lets go, loves how he trusts Steve like this, how he looks when all he can feel is the pleasure Steve gives him. 

“Could hold you like this forever,” he says, once Tony can open his eyes. Tony smiles, his bruised and tender lips straining: there’s a drop of come on the underside of Steve’s jaw. He brushes it off with a sigh and sucks it off his thumb. The glimmer of interest in Steve’s eye is echoed by the twitch of his cock, still buried hilt-deep in Tony’s ass. 

“Deal,” Tony hums, leaning forward to kiss Steve long and heartily, one last time before they have to go back out into the world and pretend this—their relationship—isn’t a thing that exists. 

They’ll talk, eventually.

Tony pours the hot water into the press and watches the grounds float up and swirl around in the dark. 

“Sure,” he says, not turning around to look at Steve, as much as he wants to. It’s for the best, he reminds himself for the thousandth time that day. The less he looks at Steve, the easier this will be for him. For both of them. “Send ’em through the server so JARVIS can throw them up for me when I get back to the lab tonight.” 

There’s a moment of silence so immense it’s any wonder Tony can’t hear his own heartbeat. Then:

“Tony.” Oh, no. He knows that ‘Tony,’ and it’s everything he can do to not shut his eyes as he braces himself for what comes next: “Could you—turn around?”

Steve doesn’t even have to use his Captain America voice to get Tony to do as he asks. By the end, it was like that all the time: Steve would ask, and Tony would oblige, and the ease with which they learned to communicate as a couple was unlike anything Tony could have hoped for, except for the part where Tony didn’t want to go public with their relationship and could never get Steve to understand why. 

Looking at Steve now, Tony withers, wishing the kitchen floor would open up and swallow him whole. Steve still looks a million times better than Tony feels, but there’s a pinching around his eyes that Tony recognizes as concern, and it shouldn’t make his heart sing to know Steve can still feel that about him, but it does. Backlit by the morning sun coming in unobscured through the mansion’s massive windows, Steve looks like an angel come to earth, bright and warm and golden. Tony feels small and twisted and hollow in comparison. Weak. A coward, who let this man slip through his fingers for fear of losing him later on down the line.

“Are you doing okay? I know we—things kind of…ended, abruptly.” Steve says the word ‘ended’ like it tastes bad. His face screws up like he’s sucked a rancid lemon. It’d be endearing if it wasn’t directed at Tony for Tony’s sake. “I’ve been worried about you.” 

Tony waves a hand at him, smiling beatifically like the words don’t make him want to drop to his knees and beg Steve’s forgiveness. 

“I’m fine, Cap,” he replies, not Steve, and even Tony can tell Steve is pained by the change of address by the way his fingers clench around the towel in his hands. “You?”

Steve visibly swallows. “I’m fine,” he says, and he sounds like it. He certainly looks like it, smiling like the free man he is. Fine might actually be the truth, in Steve’s case, even if it isn’t in Tony’s.

“Glad to hear it!” Tony almost shouts as he pivots back to his coffee, pressing down on the plunger too soon, but he’s so harried by being there in the kitchen with Steve on his first day back to worry about a weak brew. 

“Sir, I’m being told to remind you that your ten o’ clock is waiting for you at your office.” 

Tony winces. “What time is it, J?” 

“The time is currently ten twenty-nine.” 

“I’ll let you go, then,” Steve says, already leaving the kitchen before Tony can respond with anything. He manages to catch Steve’s eye as he waves back at Tony on his way out. He looks happy, Tony reminds himself. You let him go so he could be happy. You have to let him be happy.

The coffee scalds when he drinks it, but the burn is good. It reorients the pain currently trying to wring the blood out of Tony’s heart, gives him something to focus on that isn’t this unbearable, overwhelming sense of regret. Heat to burn away the creeping chill that breaking up with Steve was the biggest mistake Tony’s ever made in his life. 

After four months of pushing the conversation off for another day, four months of dating in secret—sneaking touches when the others have their backs turned, never spending the night in each other’s beds even after bouts of sex so intense they can’t remember how their legs work, pretending not to care more than is reasonable when one of them goes down in a fight—Steve finally sits Tony down and asks him why. 

Or, more accurately, he makes love to Tony slowly and sweetly for what feels like hours, until Tony is literally crying from pleasure and the overwhelming need to come, and then when Tony finally, finally breaks and whispers that magic word, “Please,” Steve bends him almost in half with a groan that shakes the bed and then plows home until Tony is sobbing and tearing the sheets as he comes. 

Then, when they’re both sated and clean and curled up on the dry side of Tony’s California King, Steve places a hand on Tony’s stomach. Tony can feel it shaking, and he knows what Steve’s about to say. 

“I want to tell the team.” 

Tony closes his eyes and groans. “Steve…” 

“Please, Tony. We need to have this conversation. We should have had it ages ago.” 

So much for enjoying the afterglow. Tony sits upright in bed, warmed by Steve’s hand coming to rest on his thigh. The other man stays laid out next to him, looking up at Tony like he’s his guiding light when all Tony’s done is drive him to this point: Steve, nervous, looking guilty for asking for something of Tony he doesn’t have the courage to give. 

“I just…you remember, when I told you about Princess Diana?” 

Steve looks confused for a moment. When understanding sets in, smoothing his features out to an expression of wary comprehension, Tony feels a rush of love so intense he has to lie back down just to keep the blood from rushing to his head. Steve Rogers is so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for. It’s Tony’s second favorite thing about him. 

“You’re worried I’m going to get killed being chased by paparazzi?” He says, moving in close and reaching out for Tony’s hand. Tony takes it, weaves their fingers together in a perfect fit. He stares at Steve’s fingers instead of looking him in the eye. Steve’s fingers are his fifth favorite thing about his boyfriend. 

“In a sense,” Tony replies. “I’m worried about what happens to us when ‘us’ no longer involves you and me, but everyone—the team, Pepper, the board, the government, our enemies…I’m worried that once the press gets a hit of us, they’re going to drain us dry, and all of it—the gossip, the speculation, the invasiveness…it’s going to drive us apart.” 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, leaning forward to kiss Tony’s forehead. Tony can’t help but press into the gesture. He can feel Steve’s lips curve up in a smile when he does. “You’ve been holding on to this all this time?” 

“It’s a valid concern, Steve.” 

“Maybe,” he replies. “And maybe it’s something you could have discussed with me before unilaterally deciding to keep our relationship a secret.”

There’s a deep undercurrent of hurt in Steve’s voice, and Tony would beat himself with the Hulk’s fist if Steve would let him for putting it there. Tony wills himself to meet Steve’s gaze then—even in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, light seems to spill out of Steve. His eyes are bright and focused, tracking Tony’s face like he’s reading a tactical map. Naked, post-coital glow is a good look on Steve, as is pretty much anything, if Tony’s being honest. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Tony,” Steve sighs again, like it pains him, and Tony winces at that tone coming out of Steve’s mouth. “I wish you loved yourself half as much as you love me.” 

Wow. “Wow,” Tony says, jerking backward like Steve just gut-punched him. Already Steve is scrambling, tangling his legs up in Tony’s expensive sheets as he sits upright. 

“That’s not—hell, Tony, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“And how did you mean it, Steve?” 

“I just…you think this hasn’t crossed my mind before? Going public and losing our privacy in the process? You’re talking like you’ve already decided that the end of our relationship is inevitable because the world is going to drive us apart, and I know the reality is something else, something you feel like would be your fault, and I don’t like you thinking so little of yourself that I would let that happen.” 

Tony gapes up at Steve, floundering like a fish for words that won’t come. Steve bends over him, brushing their lips together in the gentlest caress of a kiss in order to kickstart Tony’s brain. 

“Just talk to me, Tony.” 

Tony places a hand over Steve’s heart to feel it beating. It’s comforting in a way nothing else is. His heart’s far and away Tony’s favorite thing about Steve Rogers. 

“It’s—this is my whole life, Steve,” he says. At Steve’s confused expression, he goes on: “The press. The world, thinking its owed every piece of your life story, including and especially the things you’re still trying to work through.” He thinks back to when he read an article about Sunset Bain shortly after her betrayal, an “investigative exposé” on their relationship and her seemingly-overnight rise to success. It was tabloid pablum, at best, but it still scraped at something raw and vulnerable in Tony. Or, even worse, the explosion of press following his parents’ death, the countless headlines, the day-in, day-out of it all, phone calls and bell ringers and paparazzi camped outside the tower. The cumulative effect put a stop to a healing process that had barely begun, and Tony was still dealing with the fallout of that. 

“I’m also terrified you’ll wake up one day, look out the window and see a throng of paparazzi outside waiting to grill you about the latest cheating scandal or accuse you of abusing me because someone saw bruises on me after I fought a Skrull wearing your face, and you’ll decide you don’t want to put up with any of it anymore.” Tony takes a deep breath. “But all of that? That comes with me, Steve. I wish it didn’t. You can’t know how much I wish it didn’t. But that’s the reality we live in, and I wanted—I just wanted to keep you to myself for as long as possible, before they got their hooks in you and you decided I wasn’t worth it.”

Steve looks at him for a long time and doesn’t touch. He stays in place, leaning over Tony, one hand next to Tony’s head, the other trapped underneath it, and just reads Tony like the open book he’s revealed himself to be, cowardice and all. When the silence reaches the point of suffocation, Tony lets his hand fall from Steve’s chest. 

That’s that, then. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says, moving to work his way out from under Steve when the other man stops him with a hand on his hip. Tony pauses and looks up, sees Steve staring down at him with all the love and consternation Tony’s used to seeing there in his smiling blue eyes. 

“Stay,” Steve whispers before leaning down for a kiss. Tony gives it to him. He’d give him everything if he could. He’s helpless to do anything else, not when he loves Steve Rogers this much. 

Tony finishes his meeting with the clean energy consultant—an engaging, exciting discussion about bringing arc reactor tech and associated jobs to underserved communities in the mid-west and Appalachia, for starters—just in time for a text from Rhodey: Don’t turn on the news. 

He’d just managed to scrounge up a good mood during that meeting. It would be a shame to ruin it so soon. Naturally, he does exactly what Rhodey told him not to do and turns on the TV in his office. He does it expecting reports of a stock drop, or Stark weapons being sold on the black market. He doesn’t expect to come face to face with footage of Steve laughing freely with his arm around Sam Wilson’s shoulders, Sam’s hand wrapped snug around Steve’s bony hip, the two of them walking together down 5th Avenue in the sunshine.  

The entertainment “news” “reporter” says this footage was taken minutes ago on a bystander’s cellphone. Tony sinks into a chair in front of the widescreen TV, helpless to stare as he watches the 15 second clip repeat itself over and over as the airbrushed talking heads gush and gossip about Sam and Steve, two all-American good guys making up the hottest couple since sliced bread. 

Of course Steve would end up with Sam, Tony thinks. Sam is the kind of good Tony could never hope to be—no blood on his hands, at least not like Tony has and can never wash off, no matter how many lives he saves. He’s Steve’s age, and smart, and stable, and trustworthy down to his core. He’s also hot as hell, Tony can easily admit, even if Steve burns hotter than anyone who enters his orbit. Tony once joked with Steve that Tony was the ugly one in their relationship, but Steve’s sour expression had stopped Tony from expanding on that particular line of self-deprecating humor.

And, god, when did Steve ever laugh like that with Tony? Sometimes he got close, coming up with little bon mots that made Steve throw his head back and guffaw, but that beaming smile and the way his laugh booms and echoes across bustling 5th Avenue is unlike anything Tony ever saw when he and Steve were together. 

He looks relaxed and happy in all the ways he never was with Tony. Because you never let the world see you together, a little voice reminds him. It sounds remarkably like JARVIS. Steve deserves happiness. It’s why Tony let him go. After their heavy-duty pillow talk (and another memorable round of lovemaking, with Tony taking the reins and fucking Steve on his stomach through the mattress until he was crying and begging for release), he’d asked for a little more time to work through his issues. Steve, ever the patient boyfriend, had granted it to him. Tony had offered up moving in together as a compromise, which had thrilled Steve endlessly. But when two weeks became a month, and a month became two, and Steve’s mood only soured further and further until every conversation became an argument and every argument ended in slammed doors and heavy silence, it became clear to Tony that this wasn’t an issue he was going to be able to work through in time to keep Steve, keep him happy, keep him his. 

So he let him go. And now Steve’s with Sam, who’s seized the opportunity to show Steve off to the world, and who can blame him? If Tony had been stronger, more self-assured, more defiant of the assumptions placed on him by the world around him—if he’d loved himself even half as much as he loved Steve Rogers—that would be him taking Steve shopping, making him laugh and smile as he tucked his hand around that lovely hip and held him close while the world watched on in envy. 

But he was a coward, and now he’s watching footage of Sam on a date with Steve play on a loop while vapid, boneheaded commentators speculate about their relationship. 

Tony’s phone buzzes again with another text from Rhodey. I told you not to watch. 

He tosses the phone away and buries his face in his hands with the beginnings of a sob, a sound he chokes down like the booze he kind of wishes he still drank. He’s not proud of the thought, but the misery of truly losing Steve—and any hope of fixing what he broke between them—has opened a window to everything he’d ignored while in Malibu, sunning himself and pretending he hadn’t wounded himself beyond repair. 

Tony leaves the TV on, hunches over on himself, and just as he’s about to let the tears fall, an obnoxious beeping rouses him. 

“Wha—?”

“Sir, there are reports of an attack on 5th Avenue,” JARVIS announces. Dread drops a block of ice down Tony’s throat, so cold and horrible it almost freezes him in place. What if Steve…

Tony is up and calling the suit before the thought can finish itself. It’s waiting for him in the lobby by the time he steps off the elevator, rushing to fill the vacancy as panic claws at his throat. “J, cross-streets.” 

“The Wrecking Crew are currently being engaged at the intersection of 5th and 26th.” 

Engaged is a nice euphemism for attacking, and Tony knows without having to ask JARVIS that the focus of the attack was on Steve and Sam, whose location was just broadcast to the entire world. 

He flies faster than he’s technically allowed within city limits, but the law can wait. Steve’s life can’t. Unlike the armor, Steve can’t call his uniform to himself, nor can Sam sprout wings and fly them out of there at the drop of a hat; they’re two against four heavy hitters, and as much faith as Tony has in Steve and Sam’s abilities, those are odds he’s not willing to gamble on. 

“For the last time, Tony, I’m alright.” 

“Oh yeah, Cap? Tell that to the eighteen inches of rebar SHIELD medical just had to surgically remove from your thigh.” 

Steve is struggling to sit upright in his hospital bed, one leg fixed firmly in place by a mummy’s worth of bandages. Tony keeps himself to the far wall so he can look at Steve—alive, thank Odin and Thor and any other Asgardians whose names Tony can’t remember—and not be tempted to touch him, hold him, kiss him like he wants to, has wanted to for years and has never admitted to. It’s hard to keep himself away when Steve almost just died, but he manages. He always does.

“Did everyone make it out okay?” Steve grunts. Tony knocks his head back against the wall hard enough to hurt.

“You got everyone out before you let the building fall on you, remember? Oh, of course you don’t, because a whole building fucking fell on you while you were still in it!” 

“Tony…” Steve is squinting and holds a hand up to his head. Tony didn’t even consider Steve’s concussion when he started shouting, fuck. 

“I’m sorry, Cap—fuck.” He wipes a hand down his face. “That rebar missed your femoral artery by a quarter of an inch. You’ve got a concussion and broken ribs and the only reason you’re still alive is because of the serum. Watching—ugh, I need to sit down for this.” 

Tony takes the shitty plastic chair next to Steve’s bed and sits down hard enough he wonders if it will break. He’s close enough now to see the mottled bruising that’s made an Impressionist painting out of Steve’s handsome, perfect face, but somehow the discoloration doesn’t detract from the beauty of this man. It just makes him seem more human—precious, even. Tony folds his hands in his lap and does not look at Steve’s hand hanging over the side of the bed in front of him.

He draws a deep breath and lets it out with a rush of words: “Watching you almost bleed out on the street was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen, Steve. The thought of losing you was even worse. So don’t tell me you’re alright when you’re not, because I’m definitely not alright, and I wasn’t just shish kabab’ed by a rusty piece of metal through the thigh.” 

Steve hums thoughtfully, like he always does when he’s thinking something new and meaningful for the first time. Tony looks up and catches his eye, or rather Steve catches his—like a fish on a hook. When his lips turn up in a knowing smile, Tony knows something is up.

“You called me Steve.” 

“Uh,” Tony frowns, “Yeah, ‘cause it’s your name.” 

“You must have been really scared if you’re upset enough to use my name.” 

“Don’t tease me, Cap. I don’t respond well to teasing.” 

Steve’s eyes light up with something Tony might hazard to call joy. 

“And what do you respond well to?” 

Tony looks at Steve, then at Steve’s hand, which has turned upside down, fingers hooked ever so slightly inward—an invitation if Tony’s ever seen one, and he’s seen more than his fair share. He stands up from his crap chair and steps in close enough to breathe Steve’s air and feel the warmth—the life—radiating off of him like rays off the sun. Steve looks like hell, beaten and bruised and only a couple hours removed from standing at Death’s door, and Tony has never seen anything more beautiful. Steve’s resilience is a wonder to behold, let alone draw from. It’s his…fourth favorite thing about him. 

But can it really be this easy? 

Tony opens his mouth and says it. “Positive reinforcement?” 

Steve’s answering smile cracks his lips again from where they split during the battle, but Tony is too caught up in kissing them—kissing Steve—to care. And then Steve takes his hand and holds it, and Tony vows then and there to never, ever let go. 

The HUD is a brightly colored mess of information: live police reports from the ground, vital signs of wounded civilians, schematics of every building between 28th and the Flatiron, but all Tony needs to know is where Steve is, and if he’s okay. 

Please, please be okay. 

He dials into the Avengers main comm line as he scans each building for heat signatures. “Cap, pick up.” 

“Tony!” Steve’s voice comes through loud and clear and audibly relieved, which melts some of that frozen terror still lodged in Tony’s chest. “124 5th Avenue—we managed to lure the Crew down to the basement, but—” Steve’s report cuts off with a startled, agonized cry. Tony curses and heads for the address, flying right through the front entrance (which isn’t really an entrance anymore so much as a giant hole in the wall) and dropping down through the gaping hole in the center of top floor all the way to the basement. The Wrecking Crew did some heavy damage in a short amount of time, as is their way, but Tony isn’t worried about the bill right now.

“Cap!” 

A sound like a hammer on an anvil echoes through the basement, followed shortly by another cry. Angry, this time, not at all like Steve’s. Tony floods the place with light from the armor, both arms up and ready for action, drawing the attention of the four behemoths fighting blind all the way in the back. 

“Candygram for Mongo,” Tony chirps as Thunderball takes a running start at him. He brings him down with a power-dampening electric net, which drops him like a sealed sausage onto the cold basement floor. Bulldozer is next, rushing Tony on his left flank while his hand is down. Classic mistake, thinking that just because Iron Man’s gauntlet is down he’s defenseless: Bulldozer takes a swing and clips Tony’s shoulder, which only unbalances Tony for a moment before he recovers and fires a volley of flares right into Bulldozer’s masked face. 

Bulldozer roars and backs away, tears streaming as he tries to see his way past the fiery sparks. 

“Cap, report!” 

“Over here, To—agh!” 

Fuck, no. Tony shackles Bulldozer with twin sets of reinforced power-dampening manacle and leaves him writhing on the floor in pain next to Thunderball before going off into the dark expanse of the old basement in search of Steve. Sam he finds on the way, locked in hand-to-hand combat with Wrecker—Tony pauses on his way to Steve to knock Sam’s opponent out with an iron hand to the back of the skull. 

“I had him!” Sam shouts, even as relief washes over his strained features. Iron Man shrugs, hovering a few inches above concrete. 

“You can take all the credit,” Tony says. He tells himself it doesn’t come out as bitter and envious as he feels, knowing that Sam has what Tony was fool enough to let go of, but now’s not the time for any of that. He jets off to look for Steve, Sam in hot pursuit; the basement is a labyrinth the further in they go. Old brownstones and their ridiculous planning are the bane of Tony’s existence, both as a landlord and as a superhero currently trying to find his ex-boyfriend in the maze of bricks. 

He banks hard around a corner when he hears Steve curse, gauntlets up so he can see: Piledriver at Steve’s back with an arm around his neck, and even against Steve’s considerable size the guy looms large, threatening the choke the life out of Steve with a smile on his face.

“Ah, there’s your knight in shining armor!” Piledriver cackles, squeezing his arm harder around Steve’s neck. Steve is turning purple, scratching and kicking at the body behind him to no avail. It’s hard to get a good shot in a dark, contained space like this—a bullet might ricochet and hit Steve, or Sam, and absolutely no way in hell is he firing off a bomb down here. Tony doesn’t linger on the knight in shining armor comment. He lowers his hands, repulsors whining as they power down. 

“What do you want, Piledriver?” God, seriously, the names these schmucks come up with…

“Just waiting for the cavalry to arrive!” With a bloody grin, Piledriver reveals his other hand: in it, an old Stark bomb that went off the market years ago. 

That cold block in Tony’s chest spreads to his extremities. Oh no. 

“Alright, Piledriver. You let Captain America and Falcon go, you can have me. Deal?” 

Steve struggles harder, gritting his teeth against the pressure cutting off his air supply. Piledriver holds the bomb out to his side, cackling again—that manic laugh always unsettles something in Tony. All he has to do is drop the bomb on its tail to hit the pressurized switch and in seconds, they’re all goners. The only good news is that the blast radius itself isn’t significant: if he can get Steve and Sam far enough out of the way, that should be enough to save them. 

“JARVIS,” he says, switching over to private comms, “single shot to the head should do it.”

“Sir—”

“Now, J.”

The concealed gun in Iron Man’s shoulder appears with a hiss of metal—the bullet is out in less than a second, hitting Piledriver square in the center of the head. It’s not enough to kill him, but it dazes him long enough for Steve to escape his grasp and knock him back with an elbow to the sternum. Tony rockets forward and grabs Steve, one eye still on Piledriver behind him. 

“Tony!” Steve rasps, holding onto the suit like a lifeline. 

“Falcon!” Tony shouts. Sam appears from behind the corner. “Go long, and take care of him.” 

Even in the HUD display, Steve is the most beautiful thing Tony’s ever seen.

“Tony, what—”

Without another word and with all the grace of a major league pitcher, Tony pivots and launches Steve bodily at Sam, who catches him in his arms in a full bear hug before hauling him around the corner behind the brick wall. By the time Tony turns around, Piledriver’s hand has gone slack. 

The bomb drops. In the spare second he has to react, Tony grabs Piledriver and hurls him across the room, mostly out of harm’s way, then launches himself on the bomb just as it hits the floor. 

Even as the world whites out in a deafening blast of fire and stone, Tony thinks he hears Steve screaming his name. 

I really do love him, Tony realizes, watching from his spot at the breakfast bar as Steve busies himself removing an entire cookie sheet’s worth of bacon from the oven. The oven mitts are the same shade of blue as Steve’s uniform and dotted with little shields, a novelty gift he bought Steve years ago that apparently has yet to yield the desired levels of embarrassment Tony had originally hoped for. He’s also wearing nothing but boxers and a white cotton tank, showing off the mountain range that is Steve’s shoulders to their fullest effect. 

“How many pieces do you want?” 

“How many you got?” 

Steve laughs. “Enough for you, anyways.” He’s still glowing with happiness, hair mussed, pillow lines still etched into his cheek. They took a risk last night—slept together in Tony’s big bed and woke up to the sun shining through the bedroom window and an empty mansion. Steve was so excited, he could hardly wait for Tony to get his bearings before he was slipping underneath the covers and taking Tony into his mouth. 

For once, Tony didn’t worry about how much noise he made in bed. 

Now, he gets to reap the benefits of one of his favorite aspects of Steve Rogers: his enviable cooking skills. There’s bacon and eggs and waffles and whipped cream and homemade blackberry jam and lemon butter and toast. It’s enough to feed the Avengers twice over, which means it’s just enough for Steve, and more than enough for Tony. 

They eat together side by side, playing footsie under the counter even though there’s no one here to see them, giggling like naughty schoolboys as they lick cream and jam off each other’s lips and fingers between bites of actual food. Steve still has a lot of eating to do even as Tony’s finishes, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to leave his mouth unoccupied in the meantime. 

He says as much, and Steve’s eyes darken to that perfect shade of dark blue. He spins his seat around just enough for Tony to fit between his legs and still be able to eat off his plate. Before Tony starts to kneel, Steve drags him in for a buttery lemon kiss that almost makes Tony think twice about going anywhere that isn’t Steve’s lips. He steadies himself with both hands on Steve’s massive thighs, being careful of Steve’s freshly-healed puncture wound, before using one hand to take Steve’s cock out. Steve’s had two orgasms this morning already, but he’s hard and hot and leaking like they never stopped. 

“God, I love you,” Tony gasps before licking into Steve’s mouth. He fits in Tony’s hand like he belongs there, big and hard, hot and wet. Tony works him slowly, firmly, the way he’s learned Steve likes: thumbing the frenulum in little circles until Steve is shuddering and making soft little ‘uhn-uhn-uhn’ sounds in the back of his throat, then slicking the shaft with pre-come with long passes of his palm and then taking him fully in hand to fuck him hard and fast within the tight circle of his fingers. Tony’s calluses bump over the gorgeous, pronounced vein in Steve’s dick, and Steve whimpers like he’s being driven out of his mind with pleasure every time they do, right into Tony’s waiting mouth. 

Finally, Tony starts to pull away from Steve so he can kneel and put his lips to better use, but Steve groans and wraps a hand around Tony’s wrist as he jacks him, stopping his descent by pressing a desperate kiss against Tony’s lips with a whine and gasping: “Please—stay up here. Stay with me.” 

Steve is so sweet like this, rumpled and needy and moving his hips into Tony’s touch with little hitching breaths, faster and faster as Tony speeds up his strokes. Tony says it, says I love you Steve, always loved you, always will, love you, love you, his hand a noisy blur over Steve’s big, slick cock, his own head cradled delicately in Steve’s big, soft hands as Steve kisses him and kisses him and kisses him like this is everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed, ever will. 

His thigh is shaking violently under Tony’s hand. Steve’s cock swells and he moans into Tony’s mouth, pulling his face even closer to him by the scalp. “Love—oh god, Tony, I love—I love you,” he says, voice watery, breaking as he tips over the brink headfirst into orgasm, “Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, I love you, love you, love you—” 

One day, Tony will let Steve shout it from the rooftops—when he does, he’ll be right there next to him. 

If there’s beeping, Tony thinks, he must be in Hell. That’s the only possible explanation for it. It doesn’t cross his mind that he’s in a hospital until he hears a sound like a relieved gasp somewhere out there where the world isn’t pain and nausea and everything spinning in the wrong direction. 

“Augh, fuck.” 

“Try—oh thank God, try not to move, Tony, hold on.” There’s a hand cradling the back of his head, all of a sudden, and a cold plastic cup is being pressed to his lips. Ice chips, he realizes. He remembers cold, a freezing sensation, terror, Sam, Steve—

“Steve…” 

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.” Steve urges him to eat some of the ice chips with gentle nudges of the cup against his mouth. Tony obliges him, because of course he does. The water soothes his sore throat and clears the fog from his brain a little, enough to get a better sense of his surroundings. 

He’s in a SHIELD recovery room. Nothing is immobilized, which means nothing’s broken, which is a relief. He can hear and see, but his head hurts like a building fell on it. 

“That’s because it did,” Steve tells him. 

Oh. “Was I talking out loud again?” 

God, he missed Steve’s laugh, especially his Yes, I’m laughing AT you, Tony chuckle. He also missed that gentle brush of fingers against his forehead, right under his hairline, the way Steve knew exactly how to gentle Tony with his touch and voice and presence. 

“I missed you too,” Steve says. Tony blinks but still can’t really see straight. Those bricks really packed a wallop. “Rest, Tony. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

True to his word, when Tony wakes again, Steve is there, sitting in the same crappy plastic chair Tony sat in last time and holding Tony’s hand, watching him come to like Tony is something magical to behold. 

“Hey, mister,” Steve smiles. His eyes are red but otherwise clear. “How’s your head?” 

Tony winces. “Harder than it looks.” Steve laughs, so, mission accomplished there, but he won’t let go of Tony’s hand. If anything, Steve just draws closer, brushing his thumb against the back of Tony’s hand like a metronome. 

“Doctor says you can come home in the morning,” he says in a low voice. The lights are dim, Tony notices, and the blinds are shut. There are more ice chips on the table next to the bed, which Steve hands to him without prompting.

Swallowing around the nameless knot in his throat, Tony blinks up at Steve and asks, “How’s Sam?” 

Steve smiles. “Sam’s fine. A little pissed off at you for not giving him enough of a heads up before you threw me at him like a glorified football, but he’ll live.” 

Tony’s relieved, of course he is, but the knot in his throat starts to taste sour the longer he thinks about Sam waiting up at home for Steve while Steve fusses over Tony, who only has a concussion and a broken heart to show for having a building dropped on his head. 

This time, he manages to keep all that to himself. Instead, Tony cracks a little smile and says, “Good. That’s…that’s good.” 

Steve, however, looks puzzled. “You told him to take care of me.” 

“I did? When?” Tony wheezes. He occupies himself and his mouth with ice chips and doesn’t look Steve in the eye when he answers: 

“Right before you launched me at him.” 

“Like a glorified football?” 

Funny, the room has stopped spinning, but Tony still feels off-kilter, like everything is a little unbalanced. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the way he’s looking at Tony, hard and scrutinizing but relieved. Tony’s felt the same relief before, with Steve—the knowledge that despite a dangerously close call, the man he loves most in the world is still alive, and is here with him, despite everything. 

“Tony,” Steve says, leaning closer, squeezing Tony’s hand, “I’m not with Sam.” 

Oh. “Oh. No?”

“No, Tony. And to spare you the suspense, I think the cat’s out of the bag in terms of you and me.” 

“Uh. What?” 

That cold feeling floods him again, freezing his heart in place as Steve reaches for the TV remote. The screen flickers on, vibrant colors taking shape as a reporter recounts the events of that afternoon’s attack by the Wrecking Crew and how Iron Man saved the day. The footage captures the moment the bomb exploded, windows blowing out onto the street and the structure collapsing into a heap of rubble and brick dust; it had been fully evacuated by the time Tony showed up on the scene, apparently, and thank goodness. 

But what steals the show isn’t the bad guys being paraded out into the waiting SHIELD trucks, still immobilized by Tony’s tech—it’s Steve, carrying Iron Man out onto the street in a bridal carry while Sam waves bystanders back. Both of them are covered in dust, but Steve catches the camera’s particular attention: it zooms in on his dusty face, which is streaked with crisp lines of tears as Steve lowers Iron Man onto the pavement and rips off his faceplate. The camera is too far away and there’s too much ambient noise to hear it, but Tony can see Steve’s mouth shaping itself around Tony’s name, can see him gritting his teeth as he begs Tony to wake up and cries all the while like his world is ending. 

Paramedics rush in even as Steve bows his head to Tony’s chest, palm covering the arc reactor in a vice as they try to pull Tony away from him. They’re trying to move him away gently, but Steve is inconsolable, throwing hands and spitting mad, all but launching himself at anyone who dares put a hand on Tony. 

Unwittingly, Tony squeezes Steve’s hand, just to know he’s okay. They’re okay. 

The reporter is breathless as she gives the play-by-play of everything that happens next on screen: Tony’s helmet coming off in Steve’s hands, Steve sobbing openly over his unresponsive body, Steve leaning down and kissing him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, right before Sam and Thor come up behind him and pull him away so the paramedics can get to work. 

Steve turns off the TV with a sigh. “It’s been playing nonstop for almost twenty-four hours,” he says. He won’t look Tony in the eye. “I’m sorry.” 

“What—” Tony’s brain is still rebooting, recovering from the concussion and now trying to parse what he thinks his eyes just saw. “Why are you sorry?” 

Steve looks at their hands where they’re joined next to Tony’s thigh on the hospital bed. Tony can’t help but think how much better it would be if they were at home, in bed, together. 

“We broke up because you didn’t want the world to know about us,” Steve grumbles. “Now everyone definitely knows, and it took you almost dying for them to find out.” 

He sounds—god, he sounds miserable, is what he sounds like. Tony can sympathize, since he feels just as awful, and that was before he jumped on a bomb to save Steve’s life. 

The good news is, he and Sam aren’t dating. So. 

“I’m sorry, Steve.” 

“Don’t be, it’s my fault for losing my head. Heat of the moment, you know how it goes.” 

“Yeah, I do.” Tony squeezes his hand again, hard so Steve will look at him. He loves it when Steve looks at him—no one’s ever looked at Tony the way Steve does. He can’t even quantify it with words. There’s just Steve, and the way Steve looks at him, and Tony knows he’d do anything to keep Steve looking at him like that. Like Tony is everything, the way Steve is to Tony. “But I’m sorry, because I should have told the world about us ages ago.” 

Steve blinks. Even struck speechless and dumbfounded, Steve is the most gorgeous thing Tony’s ever seen. 

“What about your issues?” 

Tony husks a laugh. When the coughing subsides and the ice chips ease a path down his throat, he says, “I’ll probably always have them. The press is awful and it’ll only get worse. Just means I’ll need you to reassure me more often.”

Steve leans forward. “Reassure you of what, Tony?” he asks, like it’s important that Tony says the words outright. 

Tony lifts Steve’s hand and kisses his knuckles. He has so much making up to do, but now’s as good a time to start as any. 

“That you love me,” he says, “as much as I love you.” 

He can’t even finish grinning before Steve is on top of him, kissing every last trace of cold right out of Tony’s heart.

- - -

read it on AO3!  

[sincerelyreidburke]

Omg can I please have a fic where Quinn (possibly backed by all of SMH) absolutely throws down N*te. And then maybe comforts a Sad Nando bc nando is Soft and needles all the cuddles and support

Okay, this has been in popular demand for quite some time now. It may be 1:31 AM, but I’m counting this as a little birthday present for Nando.

Set during Quinn’s summer in Arizona. :D

//

One of the first steps of taking your boyfriend home for the summer is showing him around.

For the past six days, that’s what Nando has taken it upon himself to do. He can’t believe, actually, that he and Quinn have been home from school for an entire week already— well, a week tomorrow, but still— and yet here they are, arrived at the last day of Nando’s extensive tour of the Phoenix metro area. They’ve spaced it out— something one day, something another— like dinner at Tio’s one night, an afternoon meeting his best friends from home, showing Quinn his childhood rink.

He’s satisfied with his own performance as a tour guide, but tomorrow means his first shift at Tio’s restaurant, which means that summer job season is really beginning. Which, like, obviously he and Quinn can still hang out— they’re living under the same roof; and if it’s not Mama or one of the girls, Quinn is the first person he sees every morning. It’s just that once he has a summer job schedule, their days won’t be entirely their own anymore.

For Quinn, he knows, that might be a little weird, at least for these first three weeks until Gabi and Rosa get out of school. Once they’re done, the summer theatre stuff starts up, and Quinn is getting paid to do that, so he’ll have something to do.

In the meantime, though, Nando knows he brought things with him. Like his knitting stuff. And a few books. And his camera.

And until tomorrow, the time is still theirs.

“Okay, my love,” Quinn says, at the kitchen table, over his toast and eggs. The morning is all theirs; Mama is at work, so once they got the twins out the door and onto the bus, Nando made him breakfast. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Nando grins at him. “Oh, you’re curious?”

He shrugs. “In a way.” He’s wearing a baggy KMH shirt tucked into his pajama bottoms, and he hasn’t even done his hair yet. Nando lives for seeing him like this— his obsessively proper boyfriend, who won’t be caught dead in jeans outside of a party, in his pajamas in his family’s kitchen.

It has been six days, and having Quinn at home has given him enough fuel for domestic daydreaming to last a lifetime.

It’s going to be a good summer.

“Well, I saved a good thing for last,” Nando tells him, reaching for his hand across the table. “We’re going to the beach.”

Quinn raises his eyebrows, skeptical. “In Arizona.”

“Yes,” he chirps back, because two can play at this game. “I’m driving you eight hours south to the ocean. Do you have your passport?” Quinn laughs a little, and he adds, “No, baby, the beach by the river. There’s a little park there. We can sit by the water in the sun.”

“Ooh.” Quinn smiles. “That sounds lovely.”

“But first,” he adds, squeezing his hand. “I’m taking you to my favorite Starbucks.”

Quinn cocks his head, with amusement in his smile now. “You have a favorite Starbucks?”

“You don’t have a favorite Starbucks?” he replies.

“I…” He trails off a little. “I can’t say I do, actually.”

“Well, I’ll educate you.” He brings his hand to his face, kisses it, and says, “Maybe this one will become your favorite.”

Quinn’s smile is the cutest shit he has ever seen. “Maybe so.”

*

In the truck, on the way there, Quinn is watching out the window. “So why is it your favorite?”

“Huh?”

“The Starbucks.” He looks to him across the console. “Why is it your favorite?”

“Oh.” Nando grins. “Well, okay. It’s, like, classic Arizona architecture, and—”

“Wait, you like it because of the architecture?” Quinn chuckles a little. “Are you Ben?”

“Jesus, baby, are you chirping me?” Nando jostles his arm, and Quinn laughs. “You’re a regular KMH member. I’m impressed.”

Quinn shrugs. “I suppose you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

“Wow.” Nando loves his boyfriend. “I’m honored. But FYI, I was only starting with the reasons I liked it.”

“Okay, continue, then.”

“Okay, so it has a lot of really nice outdoor seating.” Nando pauses. “It’s, like, near a shopping center, but it’s separate from the rest of the stores, so it’s not just some ugly spot. They always have the good cake pops, and plus, the manager is cool. They have blue hair and they wear a bunch of pride pins on their apron.”

“Okay.” Quinn nods, as Nando watches him process. Or at least sort of watches him, because he is, technically, still driving a vehicle, cute as the boy in the passenger’s seat may be. “That does sound like a good Starbucks.” He pauses. “What do you mean by the good cake pops?”

“Lemon ones,” he replies. “And chocolate. And, during Pride month, rainbow.”

“Oh my goodness.” Quinn closes his eyes, like he’s having a moment. “Now I’m craving a cake pop.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re on our way there,” Nando replies, and he laughs.

It only takes a few more minutes to arrive. The parking lot is sort of crowded, but it doesn’t look like a mob scene, which is nice. Nando sees an empty table for two under a palm tree on the patio that has their name on it.

“Here we are,” he remarks, parking the truck across the lot from the door. “Our cake pops await.”

Quinn puts on his sunglasses. Their lenses are rose-gold and circular, and he looks criminally adorable in them. And also kind of super hot. That’s the thing about Quinn. He’s the cutest thing in the world and he’s also the source of literally all of Nando’s thirst. And he can turn on a dime. “I’m ready,” he tells him, combing back his hair. Already, with the past week in the sun, it’s gone a little lighter blond on the top. “I’ll have you know, my expectations are extremely high.”

“Oh, this won’t disappoint you,” Nando assures him. “I promise.”

They walk hand-in-hand across the parking lot, and Nando grabs the door for him. Inside is sweet air-conditioned bliss, and it smells like fresh-roasted coffee beans and the bakery case. Nando hasn’t been in here since Christmas break, and it’s been too long.

There’s a small line, but it won’t take more than a few minutes to get to the register. He tries to see who’s working, in case it’s Shai, but he can’t get a good look at the cashier, and there’s no sign of their blue mohawk among the baristas making the drinks.

Shai is actually, like, thirty, and possibly married, but they memorized his drink order in high school and always complimented him on his pride shirts, so they’re one of those older queer people Nando has just imprinted on. And, okay, yeah. He was totally excited to bring his boyfriend in here to meet them. It’s the little things.

Going around town with Quinn is like showing him off, and he has never been happier.

As they get in line, Quinn wraps his hand around his elbow, leaning into him. “It smells good in here,” he hums, with his head against his shoulder.

“I told you,” Nando replies, kissing his temple. “This is a magical place.”

He checks his phone, briefly, while they wait in line; he hasn’t actually looked at it since he woke up this morning. He has a few Snapchats in the cricket group chat, plus one from Nursey (he and Dex just got engaged, which, !!!!!!), and a separate text from Rhodey (it looks like he sent him a TikTok; Rhodey is obsessed with TikTok). He opens the cricket group, turns his front camera on, and snaps a selfie. Quinn is smiling with his cheek against his shoulder, and he himself looks like a little bit of a meme, but Quinn looks cute, so he saves it before he types the caption (coffee run y’all want anything) and sends it through.

In exactly twenty seconds, Rhodey replies. It’s a picture of himself in his work uniform— he delivers pizzas in Providence— and he’s flashing a peace sign at the camera. His hair is in a pink, blue, and yellow striped scrunchie. ya get me an americano. also yall are gay

Quinn snickers. “Well, I would sure hope so, Ben.”

Nando pockets his phone and hooks his arm around his neck. “Super gay.”

Quinn leans into his shoulder. “Mm.” He nods. “The gayest.”

They move forward a spot in line, then another. In fact, they move forward three entire spots without incident. Quinn is humming some showtune— it’s from Spring Awakening; he recognizes it— and Nando is keeping his eyes peeled for Shai, or at least someone he knows. Look at me! I’m in love and I’m happy.

But then God says, be careful what you wish for.

Because as they move into the spot where they’re up next to order, he catches the sound of the cashier’s voice. “... and can I get a name for the order?”

All of the life leaves Nando’s body.

“Holly? Great.” The voice is nasally, and a little artificially cheerful. He hasn’t heard it— outside of a few drunk voicemails— in over two years, but it evokes a visceral reaction in him. He feels sick, all of a sudden. “That’ll be right up.”

He must be tense all of a sudden, because Quinn peers up at him. “Sebastián?” he asks, and what a difference between two voices. “Are you alright?”

He tries to take a deep breath. “I, um.” He pauses. “I think we have to leave.”

“Next customer, please?”

“Leave?” Quinn squints. “But we’re next!”

The people in front of them step to the side counter, and Nando sputters too long. “We, uh—”

But when the way is clear, it’s too late. “Sebby!”

Nando wants to die.

“Holy shit!” Nate has a different haircut, and a Starbucks apron, but otherwise he’s the same— the same pasty pale skin, the same bony stature, the same face so easily twisted into a scowl. Right now, though, he’s smiling, which, honestly, is an expression that looks alien on him, based on Nando’s memory. “You didn’t tell me you were home from school!”

What he wants to say is, Nate, why the fuck would I tell you I was home from school, but what he does say is, “Uh, hi.”

He is going to cringe himself to death. He’s been home for no less than six days, and he is already running into his ex with his boyfriend.

When did he start working here?

“It’s been forever!” As Nate keeps on this weirdly cordial tangent, Nando feels Quinn still next to him. Quinn knows vaguely what Nate looks like, but what he knows better is the way he used to act, and the fact that he used to call him Sebby. Also, he’s wearing a nametag. And Nando feels as stiff as a board. “How’ve you been?”

Very carefully, Quinn unwinds his arm from his, and takes a firm, obvious grip on his hand.

“Jeez, I keep trying to reach out to you,” Nate continues, like they’re old friends running into each other, and not exes with a toxic history. “We really should catch up sometime, now that you’re in town.”

Nando takes a long breath, like it’ll fix the tension in his chest. He squeezes at Quinn’s hand, which helps a little. Quinn leads when they step up to the counter, and he inhales like he wants to order, but Nate is still fucking going. “Who’s your friend?” he asks.

“Boyfriend,” Quinn blurts, in his I’m pissed and I mean business voice, which, thank God for this boy. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Nate raises his eyebrows a little, looking at Quinn like he’s a five-year-old having a tantrum. “Oh,” he says, shrugging. “My bad. Although, I should’ve known.” Nate’s eyes dart to him for a second, and Nando wants to scrub himself clean of that gaze. “He tends to go for the little guys,” Nate continues, to Quinn, gesturing between the two of them like he’s comparing their heights. Then he shrugs again. “Gotta balance it out, y’know?”

Nando’s stomach turns. It stings, so much, and as soon as this is out of Nate’s mouth he feels Quinn squeeze his hand so hard it’s like he intends to break bones. He squeezes right back, and God, he knows it’s cruel and unnecessary and shouldn’t bother him, and it’s been almost three fucking years since he had to deal with Nate, but it still hurts. It hurts just as much as every comment like that did from him. It sends him back to memories of hating and second-guessing himself, and he just. He feels so fucking humiliated.

Quinn takes a very long breath, his eyes on Nate, while he digests this, and then he says, “Can I get a peach green tea, please.” He pauses, still squeezing the circulation out of his hand, and it is the only thing keeping Nando from tearing up. Which is pathetic. But he’s just. It hurts. “And he’ll have a—”

“Mocha frappe. Yeah. I know.” Nate chuckles a little, already grabbing a cup. “Extra whip, right?”

Quinn bristles, face flushing, and finally, Nando finds his voice. “Actually,” he says, “no.” Because even though that was what he was going to order, he doesn’t want to give Nate the satisfaction of thinking he still knows him that well. His Starbucks order may be the same, but there’s so much about him that’s changed since Nate knew him. So much about him that’s better now. Without him. He orders his second favorite. “An iced vanilla latte.” And then, because even though he really doesn’t feel like being polite to him, he feels like Mama might manifest in this Starbucks and kick his ass if he doesn’t say it, he adds, “Please.”

“Hm, my mistake,” Nate says, with a shrug, as he’s writing on the two cups. “I guess you’re a new man, Sebby. We really should catch up.” Quinn’s death grip intensifies, because he knows how much Nando cannot stand being called that. He brings his other hand back to wrap around his elbow, too, like he’s being protective, and Nando has never been more grateful for him.

“Anyway, that’ll be right up.” Nate looks so unbothered, just the way he always did, years ago, when he’d make a comment that left Nando’s self-esteem reeling for days afterward. “I guess I don’t really need your name for the order, huh?”

He’s writing on the cup, and Nando can’t see— or just doesn’t want to— but Quinn must be able to, because he says, “His name is Sebastián.”

Nate raises his eyebrows. “Ooh, feisty.” And of course Quinn sounds mad— but Nate making fun of him will do nothing but add more fuel to the fire. Nate looks to him, past Quinn entirely, and adds, “Does he speak for you all the time like this, or—?”

Nando wants to melt into the floor. “Just give us our total, Nate,” he says, because the faster they can get out of here, the better. Quinn is bristling next to him, but stays quiet. 

Nate sighs, shrugs a little, and punches into the cash register. “If you say so,” he says, then announces, “6.23.”

And he thinks that’s going to be the end, but then, as he’s handing over his card, Nate keeps fucking talking. “Oh!” he says, still all faux-fake. “Sebby, you should take him to the lake. Remember, when we’d go down there in high school?”

Quinn’s grip on him tightens. This transaction cannot process fast enough. “We had a lot of fun,” Nate says, like he’s reminiscing. “Always did. It’s a shame; I feel like we never really had closure.”

Finally, finally, after what feels like a million years, he hands his card back, and Nando pockets it in a hurry. “C’mon,” he says to Quinn, because he cannot stand here for one more second, and as they walk away, Nate calls after them.

“Hey, give me a shout sometime!” He’s doing the fake-smile thing again. “We should really hang out, now that you’re in town again.”

Nando squeezes his eyes shut and takes a tight breath; he didn’t realize it before, but it’s hard to breathe. He feels sick and humiliated and awful, and when they’re far enough away to be out of earshot, he looks to Quinn and whispers, “Baby, I am so sorry.”

Quinn is surprisingly calm, at least in comparison to his clear irritation at the register. He shakes his head and rubs his arm with the free hand that’s not holding his. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I just—” He wants to melt. “I had no idea he started working here; I haven’t even seen him since before freshman year, and it just— like, it figures, right—”

“Sebastián,” Quinn says, and his even voice pulls Nando out of his head. “I’m going to get our drinks, and then we can get out of here, okay?”

Nando lets all his breath out at once, then nods. “I— yeah. Okay. That’s— perfect. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Do not be sorry.” Quinn rises on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. “None of that was your fault.”

Quinn seems surprisingly collected for someone who was just ignored and insulted a minute ago, and Nando has this feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’s planning something, some kind of revenge— but what could he do, with Nate just working?

They station themselves against the wall by the pick-up counter, and it isn’t lost on Nando how touchy Quinn is being— not that they’d hold back in public for any reason in general, but he’s definitely going the extra mile right now, rubbing the inside of his elbow and leaning his head on his shoulder and holding his hand all at once. Not only is the touch grounding; Nando is also fully aware that Quinn is trying to rub it in Nate’s face should he glance over from his spot behind the counter.

Which, good. Let him fucking stare if he wants to. Nando hasn’t felt that humiliated in a long time.

And he hates that he let it hurt him, that one stupid comment— but it was such a reminder of worse times, times when he’d have to process things like that from the person who was supposed to be his partner all the time, and it was just. It was always hard, and it was always awful, and being with Quinn has helped him work so much on all of that. Quinn taught him, so early on, that he deserved better. Everything with Quinn is better.

He just focuses on holding Quinn’s hand for a minute, until Nate puts their drinks out at the pick-up counter. “Stay here, honey,” Quinn tells him, squeezing his hand before he unwinds his fingers from it. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Nando replies, and watches him go.

Quinn squares his shoulders, takes a short breath, and walks to the counter. Nando is suddenly very aware that something might be about to happen. He leans against the wall and listens in, as he watches Quinn take the two drinks from across the counter.

He’s right. Quinn looks Nate dead in the eye and says, “Hi, could I just remind you of something?”

Oh my God. Nando widens his eyes. Is Quinn about to chew him out?

Nate says nothing, but looks unamused, and Quinn continues. “You broke up with him,” Nando hears him say. “After you cheated on him, by the way. Just in case you forgot.” Nate raises his eyebrows, but stays silent. Quinn is reeling now, and there’s no stopping him. “And I happen to know an awful lot about the way you treated him, and how much that hurt him, so don’t you dare try to act so friendly, like you didn’t break him.” Nando is frozen in place, as Quinn picks up both of the drinks. “He owes you nothing. He clearly does not want to reconnect with you, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to do that either with someone who did nothing but make me feel awful about myself for two years.” Quinn isn’t even making a scene— the only reason Nando can hear what he’s saying is because he’s not standing that far away— but Jesus Christ, if this isn’t the most satisfying thing to witness in the world. Nate is red in the face and absolutely silent, and Quinn is staring daggers at him; if looks could kill, he’d be dead on sight. “If you wanted to be his friend, maybe you shouldn’t have stomped all over his heart.”

Nando cannot believe his ears.

“And,” Quinn adds, like it’s the end of a big monologue, “I’m going to need two straws.”

Nando is so in love with this boy.

He watches, trying not to smile or even laugh, as Nate fumbles into the thing of straws and shoves two in Quinn’s direction. Quinn takes them, flashes a big, stage smile, and says, “Thank you!” before he turns and walks back in Nando’s direction.

The fake smile turns self-satisfied in a second flat, as he meets Nando’s eyes again. Nando is still kind of frozen, but he wants to kiss him, right in the middle of Starbucks.

All he can say is, “Baby.”

Quinn is all smiles. He looks the way he does when he comes out of the stage door after a great show. “Ready to go, honey?”

“Am I ever,” Nando says, and they join hands again as they head for the door. He’s not sure if Quinn knows that he heard what he said. “That… was kind of the most satisfying thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

“Oh,” Quinn replies as he sticks his straw into his iced tea, “trust me, Sebastián. It’s the most satisfying thing I’ve done as long as I can remember.” He pauses, as he takes a sip, and then adds, “I’ve been wanting to do that for longer than I can even say.”

“It was hot,” he says, because, well, it was. “And just… jeez, I— maybe something good did come out of this situation.”

“Of course it did,” Quinn replies. His smile is kind of maniacal, and Nando is into it. “I got to have the confrontation of my dreams, and I got an iced tea.” He holds up his drink. “Cheers!”

Nando bumps his vanilla coffee against it and laughs. “Cheers, baby.”

Quinn squeezes his hand. They walk back outside into the summer day, and Nando doesn’t look back.

Not even a glance.

[sinner-as-saint]

Ocean Eyes

Post Endgame Steve Rogers Fic.

Requested by anon: “I was wondering if you could possibly write something about where the reader was Tony’s daughter, from a one night stand before he was iron man, and is dating Steve, so when Tony passes in Endgame she uses sex with Steve as a way to help her grieve?”

Themes: Smut, angst, feels, language, a little bit of soft Bucky

A/n: Let’s pretend Steve didn’t go back to return the stones right away. I mean he does eventually, but just not right after the funeral. Enjoy loves! And do let me know what you think, i love hearing feedback! 

    You sat in the living area of the new home your dad left you in his will, not far from the Avengers’ compound. A cup of strong, black coffee in your hand and your laptop on your lap, you just scrolled through the countless number of emails and fan art you were receiving or being tagged in – the world was mourning for your father like they should for the hero he was. While Morgan sat next to you, munching messily on her second mini cheeseburger of the night. She reminded you so much of your dad it was crazy.

You were Y/n Stark, daughter of Tony Stark. You never knew who your mother was, and your dad didn’t know either. All you could put together was that you were conceived during Tony Stark’s playboy days; years before he became Iron Man. And what you dad told you was that one day long time ago, a man showed up on his doorstep with a baby and a handwritten letter. And the unknown man left both you and the letter in his hands before going away without a word.

Upon reading the letter, Tony figured that you were his daughter. You were 10 months old at the time. And ever since then, you had the best dad anyone could ask for.

Time passed and your dad almost died, was kidnapped and eventually became Earth’s best defender; Iron Man and you couldn’t be happier when he first introduced you to the Avengers. Your relationship with Pepper was awesome too. Your dad was your best friend, and losing him was your worst nightmare. A nightmare which came true.

You went to every single mission with your dad; despite his over protectiveness. And you fought alongside your father every single time, until the Civil War between him and Cap.

You both had a huge argument when he found out that you were siding with Steve. He said things he didn’t mean and you did too. And after finding out the whole story, you didn’t want to choose sides anymore, so you disappeared. For years nobody knew where you went; your dad was losing his mind and then Thanos happened.

You somehow showed up in Wakanda while your dad was on Titan. Long story short, you thought you had lost him in the snap, but then he came home.

Your dad decided that he wanted to marry Pepper finally and settle down somewhere far from the superhero life. And you were happy for him truly. They had a simple wedding, and then they had a daughter, Morgan.

You lost people in the snap, and for 5 years you all tried to move on.

During those five years, you lived with the Avengers, well what was left of them. You helped Nat through it all and you somehow grew closer to Steve more than anyone else. And before you knew it, you were starting to catch feelings for the super soldier.

After the last battle, when you saw your father die right in front of you, you were completely broken. You were still in denial at his funeral. In his prerecorded message for all of you, he mentioned that he was leaving you, Morgan, Peter and Harley everything he had, including a lavish, smart home built just for each one of you. Morgan lived with Pepper, while you lived alone in your spacious home. And it got lonely sometimes, but the team kept visiting. Peter would come by sometimes, Sam and Bucky would too. Steve was somehow always away but he visited whenever he could.

The team were still debating over who would actually go to place all the stones back. You offered to go, but a loud echo of ‘No!’ from many people, including Happy and Rhodey, shot back at you when you did propose that idea during a recent meeting. Being Tony Stark’s daughter, it was a habit for them, instilled by Tony himself, to be protective over you.

 Morgan’s voice dragged you back to reality from the flashback you were having.

 “Can I please have another one, Y/n?” she asked, giving you the best puppy eyes ever. She had your dad’s eyes and whenever you looked into them, you knew that he was with you in another form.

“Nice try Morgoona, but mom is gonna kill us both if she ever found out that I’m your cheeseburger dealer. Also, she’s on her way to pick you up, she’s done with work. You can have cheeseburgers tomorrow baby, for now, let’s wipe your face,” you were babysitting Morgan while Pepper was caught up with work and meetings all day.

 An hour later, Pep came over to pick Morgan up asked you if you wanted to join them for dinner. You politely refused because you still needed time to recover before going back to the lake house which was filled with your dad’s memories.

It was around 10 p.m. and you were just lounging in the living area with a book when your phone buzzed on the coffee table not far from you.

It was a message from Steve.

1 new message from Captain Dorito: Can I come over? Need to talk.

 It simply said, yet the seven little words made your heart pound inside your chest. You and Steve were an on and off couple. Yeah you had sex multiple times in the past, but since you lost your father and since Bucky came back, you both had been a bit distant from one another; taking time to heal and catch up with the ones you had lost.

His text was short and simple, but your tried your hardest to read between the words, and when you couldn’t figure anything out – you texted him a simple ‘yeah’ and paced around in your living room until you heard the roar of his car’s engine coming through your property’s gate.

Just a few moments later, the AI your father had created and installed in your house spoke up.

“Captain Rogers is at the door, Y/n.” it simply said. And you let out a loud breath.

“Let him in, Mr. J,” you replied back. He was named after Jarvis, because he was your favorite AI that your dad ever made. You wanted to name yours Jarvis Junior but then settled on Mr. J because it was cooler.

 You were on the first floor so it took him a few seconds to come in the room which you were in and those few seconds felt like an eternity. Then you finally saw him, after days.

He walked in your living room, carefully shaved, his soft, signature smile on and wearing a long sleeved, tight, navy blue shirt which accentuated his defined abs and his biceps. The sight of him alone made your heart go crazy in a really good way.

 “Hey Y/n,” he simply said, greeting you with his muscular arms wide open; hoping for a much needed hug.

Perhaps it was the fact that you hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Perhaps it was because you missed him. Or perhaps it was because you were tired of being alone and acting so strong for Morgan, Peter, Pepper, and Rhodey and basically everyone else that you needed a shoulder to cry on as well. Either way, you ran into his arms and wrapped your limbs around him, a few tears falling down your cheeks in the process and landed on his shirt.

But he didn’t mind, he just wanted to hold you and let you know that it was okay and that he was here.

You jumped in his arms and wrapped your legs around his lean waist, while his strong arms pressed your body against his even more.

The faint scent of his cologne calmed you down. The comfort in his smile reminded you that you were home, safe. His arms around your body made you feel protected and that no harm would ever fall on you.

 “You’re here finally. What happened, bored of everyone already?” you asked, sniffling and he chuckled, rocking you slightly before placing you back on your feet.

You looked up at him, still in his embrace as his hands settled on both sides of your waist. Your e/c eyes bore into his ocean blue ones.

They held an incomparable depth. They weren’t just blue eyes, they were the kind that reminded you of the azure sea on a bright day. They reminded you of a dim ray of light passing through the rarest of blue diamonds. They shone like blue fire; burning along the rims of his black pupil. They reminded you of home.

“You’re not an option that I turn to when I’m bored, Y/n, I’ve told you many times before. You needed time to heal, but then I thought that you might need some company. I mean, you haven’t left this house in a whole week. Did you eat today?” he asked in his ‘Captain’ voice.

You sighed and smiled at his concern.

“Yeah I had cheeseburgers with Morgan,” you replied and from the look on his face, you could tell he was done.

“You Stark girls and your cheeseburgers! Want me to make you dinner, a proper dinner. Not just lumps of cheese and unhealthy processed meat which h-,”

“Jesus Steve! You sound like the old man you are! I’m fine, I just…miss you. A lot,” you laughed and stood on your tip toes to rub your nose against his.

Your lips brushed against his in the process and you caught the sharp intake of air he took.

His grip on your waist tightened and he smiled, placing his forehead against yours.

“I miss you too, a lot,” he whispered and his hot breath fanned your face.

 Your hand held the back of his head as you pulled him down slightly so you could kiss him properly. His lips met yours for a slow kiss and both your mouth moved in perfect harmony.

The kiss quickly turned into one which was needy and passionate and it sent tingles all over your body. Your other hand held his face gently as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His taste drove you crazy. Your body burned with desire wherever his skin made contact with yours. And soon, it felt way to warm to still have your clothes on. So you got rid of them.

“Mr. J, shut down on the first floor, please. Thanks,” you quickly told the AI and as a response, you got two beeps – signaling that Mr. J was no longer recording audio nor visuals of the occurrence of the floor which you were in.

You briefly broke contact with your super soldier to take off your top while he pulled down your shorts and left them at your feet; leaving you only in your matching set of dark burgundy cotton underwear. He kissed his way up from your thighs until he reached your collar bones. He bit, kissed and marked your skin until he finally found his way to your sweet spot.

He mercilessly assaulted the skin just underneath your jaw with his mouth till you placed the palm of your hand underneath his tight shirt and over his abs.

“Take it off,” you spoke in your authoritative voice and he obeyed immediately.

“Yes ma’am,” he teased and took off his shirt in an agonizingly slow pace, followed by his pants; leaving him only in his black briefs which did nothing to hide his very prominent hard on.

Meanwhile, you made yourself quite comfortable on the nearby couch, watching him strip just for you; leaning backwards till your back hit the multiple soft cushions while you parted your legs slightly, just to invite him in but not give him the full show just yet.

A devilish smirk cast itself upon his handsome face when he saw you in the position, on that couch. And he knew exactly what you wanted.

He slightly pushed the nearby coffee table aside with ease and knelt in front of you. The palms of his hands on either of your knees as he pulled your legs further apart slowly. Your breathing grew faster as he maintained eye contact while hooking a finger on the side of your underwear and pulled it down lazily.

Your lust got the best of you and you hurried to unclasp your bra and let it fall by your side. You had been intimate with the soldier many times now, and being naked in front of him had never been an issue.

Upon seeing your delicate swells, his eyes got darker as his desire rushed through his body faster than before. His heartbeat increased just by seeing how beautiful you looked; naked in front of him, waiting patiently for him to take his time on you.

 “You are so beautiful, baby,” he whispered against your inner thighs as his lips grazed the soft skin leisurely.

Your core was dripping and you knew he could see it because it was literally flowing out of your folds at this point. Your entrance was throbbing; awaiting desperately for his attention and his touch. Steve knew what you wanted, but he enjoyed teasing the living shit out of you.

He licked a thick stripe from your thigh to your hip bone, and kissed his way across your abdomen to reach the other side of your hip, all while carefully avoiding the spot where you wanted him the most.

You groaned out of frustration.

“Steve!” you mumbled, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it gently.

He smirked against your skin and placed one last kiss right under your belly button before lifting his head up to meet your glossy eyes looking down at him.

“Yes? Want anything?” he asked nonchalantly as he rubbed his hands up and down your legs. His touch sent shivers right down your spine and despite the decent room temperature, you got chills.

You wanted him. All of him. He was your escape. Steve was what you needed to forget about everything for a short while. It seemed selfish, but it felt right.

“Yes, please just- touch me, Captain, please,” you whined in desperation and his eyebrows shot up while his smirk got bigger at the name used at him. He liked it.

His hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled you closer to him slightly; your bare, dripping core much closer to his face now and when he spoke, his breath fanned against your wet folds and caused an intense sensation right on top of your throbbing core.

“Where does my girl want me? Right here?” he asked and before you could give him a proper answer, he slipped his tongue between your slippery folds and the warmth of his mouth dragged a loud moan out of you.

“Fuck! Right there Steve,” you moaned and held his head right above your heat, tugging on his scalp slightly as both your fists were tangled in his hair.

His tongue worked on your entrance, slipping in and out of your folds and occasionally circling your bundle of nerves and sucking harshly on it – driving you crazy with just his tongue.

Somehow, while he was at it, he slipped two fingers into your tight entrance and curled them upwards while he lazily stroked them in and out of you. And a rather vulgar moan slipped out of your mouth.

While he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his tongue flicked over your clit speedily while occasionally bringing his mouth over it to suck on it gently.

He worshiped your body with all his might, and soon, you came undone all over his mouth and his skilled fingers. Your body was squirming under him as the waves of euphoria washed over you, and your desire flowed out of you drop by drop as he removed his fingers from the tight, circular entrance of your core.

He didn’t waste any time in bringing his tongue back to your dripping heat once again, relishing whatever you had to offer him. His nose grazed your carefully trimmed bush and you could see your cum dripping down his chin. The sight was filthy, and you liked it.

His tongue brushed over your most sensitive spots and your body was shaking under his touch, and that didn’t stop him. He licked you clean and then stood up to look down at you.

 “You always taste so damn good,” he whispered, stroking your hair gently with his hand as he stood in front of you, a thin layer of sweat all over his muscular abdomen and his broad chest.

 His hard on looked so prominent that it looked like it must be painful at this point.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his next command.

 “You’re gonna be a good girl and suck my cock now, aren’t you, babygirl? You’re gonna wrap your pretty mouth around me, yeah? Well, then get to work baby,” he whispered huskily and you didn’t waste another second.

You hurried and pulled down his black briefs, which pooled at his ankles and he carefully stepped out of them as you wrapped your hand around his thick length and pumped it a couple of times before taking just the tip into your mouth, knowing how much that got him to the edge.

“Fuck! Your mouth feels – holy fuck!” he moaned as you caught him off guard and toyed with his balls.

Your mouth wrapped around his leaking tip and your tongue twirled around it, dragging a few cuss words out of his oh so righteous and pure mouth.

To the world, Steve Rogers was a good, honest and saintly man. But here, naked with you, the feral and rawness in him came out and you liked knowing that you had the power to bring this wild side out of the noble, out of time, hero.

The cuss words flowed out of his mouth like a chant as your tongue brushed over the slit of his length before taking all of him into your mouth. You allowed him to slide inside your mouth until he hit the back of your throat.

You bounced your head as your mouth milked his length perfectly. His one hand held a grip in your hair while the other held your jaw possessively while you maintained eye contact with him.

His perfect face had a pleasant frown upon it as you moved your mouth around him, tracing each bump and each bulging vein with your tongue. His taste drove you wild, and soon, his grip tugged at your hair harder and he bucked his hips against your mouth, sliding his length in and out of your mouth faster than before. That signaled that he was close so coming undone.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked on his hard length slightly, a hiss slipping out of his pink lips as you noticed that his muscles tensed and soon, you felt his load shoot the back of your throat.

His raw, salty taste fueled your lust for him.

His semi hard length slowly slipped out of your mouth as his eyes rolled back and he leaned his head back a little, breathing heavily with his mouth slightly parted as his orgasm washed through him as well. A few droplets of sweat trickled down his chest and he looked magnificent, his damp skin shining in the dim evening light of your living room.

The sight of him riding the waves of pleasure was something you couldn’t get used to no matter how many times you saw it before. He looked ethereal.

 His heavy breathing ceased slightly as his grip on your jaw tightened. He bent down and brought his own face closer to yours.

His warm cum smudged slightly on the side of your mouth and the sight of having his cum messily all over your mouth drove the man insane.

He gripped your jaw and lifted your face up to line up with his. His grip on your jaw caused your mouth to part just the slightest.

“Look at you, all messy and wet with my cum all over your mouth. You’re mine, you get that? All mine,” he growled and spat in your mouth before quickly covering your mouth with his warm one.

The kiss was ferocious, animalistic and passionate. You could feel his lust for you in the kiss, his teeth clashed against yours and his lips made it their mission to bruise yours. The kiss hurt, but the passion and lust hidden in it minimized the pain.

His hands traveled everywhere all over your body. He pulled you up so you were standing as well, and slapped your thighs lightly. You took that as your cue to jump and wrap your legs around his waist once again.

He carefully walked the two of you to your bedroom, all while kissing the living shit out of you.

You briefly broke the kiss once he laid you down on your cool, satin sheets. He stood back, looked at you and smirked.

 Oh, you knew that smile.

 “Condoms on the t-,”

“The top drawer, yeah I know,” he smirked, finishing your sentence as he quickly opened the drawer, took one out, ripped the wrapping, took it out and handed it to you.

“Wanna do the honors?” he teased as you sat up and took the thin, transparent condom out of his hand and slipped it carefully onto his length.

You gave the glistening tip a quick peck and he growled again, making you smirk this time.

 “Hurry up, Captain. I need you to fuck me, now!” you demanded and he was quick to follow your orders.

He pushed you back on the bed and wrapped his mouth around your nipple, while his hand toyed with the other one. His lips and fingers pinching and biting down on the soft buds gently.

He kissed his way down from the valley of your boobs, around your belly button, until he reached your core.

He rubbed his tip against your clit and you moaned out loud. He was barely in you and you were already so stimulated.

He applied just the slightest of pressure and rubbed his tip up and down your wet folds, earning another loud, obscene moan out of you followed by a chant of cuss words.

 He smirked again.

 “I love how your body responds to my touch babe,” he whispered quickly before slipping his length inside of you without another warning.

You took deep breaths as your entrance adjusted to his size. Again, no matter how many times you’ve been intimate with him, his size was definitely something which you couldn’t just get used to.

 “Tell me if I hurt you, babygirl. Tell me if you want me to s-,”

“God! Just fuck me Rogers!” you playfully slap his chiseled face and his smirk grew wider.

His body hovered over yours as he supported himself up with his elbows, placed on either side of your head.

He moved his hips just the slightest and you felt his length stretch you to your maximum.

 “Fuck, baby! You’re so fucking tight, shit!” you heard his groan under his breath as his lips found their way to your neck, kissing and biting the skin like he owned it.

 Hearing him swear was always a turn on for you, and as your heard his vulgar words, your core got wetter and wetter – lubricating and easing his way as he rocked in and out of you.

He started slow, and when he realized that you had gotten used to his size – he sped up.

Sweat formed in between his eyebrows as he pounded into your heat. Your legs instinctively reached around his waist and you locked him in place.

One of his hands reached around your back as he lifted your back slightly off the bed sheets. The new angle allowed his length to stroke sensitive spots you didn’t know you had. Your wet walls clenched carefully around him and pumped him nicely.

His tip grazed your g-spot with almost every thrust and you were beginning you lose yourself in his embrace. Your head clouded with lust, passion and your love for him. And suddenly all that mattered in the world was the way your body connected with his in that moment. All you cared about was how he made you feel loved. All you could focus on was the filthy words which escaped his mouth.

 His hand left your back and flew to your clit. He rubbed the little nub furiously and soon, the sweet, all too familiar pressure began forming itself right at your heat. And you knew you couldn’t hold it in much longer.

 “Steve! Fuck, I’m so close, Captain. Can I cum, please?” you asked, unsure of whether you made any sense. And you heard him grunt and moan your name once again.

Hearing you calling him ‘Captain’ in bed was something which turned him on more than anything. And having you squirming underneath him, naked and at his mercy was a sight he would never forget.

“Hold on, baby. Just a little longer,” he whispered against your sweet spot and moved his mouth over yours once again, drinking in all the moans and cuss words which left your lips as he fucked you into oblivion. Your tight entrance applied just the right amount of pressure around his shaft and it was hard even for the super soldier to hold back his release.

 His kissed you and you moaned into his mouth and soon, his thrust started getting more and more irregular. You knew he was close and suddenly you couldn’t keep it in anymore. The pressure building at your core became too much to hold back, so you let go. And you came undone around him.

“Fuck! Captain!,” was all you could say as you moaned out loud.

Your heartbeat rand in your ears as your back arched off the bed and your chest pressed against his. The feeling of your bare body against his was what brought about his intense orgasm.

He moaned out loud and felt his warm seed fill the condom. His heart rate increased as well, and your ragged breath against his cheek was the only thing he could focus on.

His length went limp inside you and he carefully slipped it out.

He removed the condom off, tied it and threw it somewhere on the ground; it being the last thing he cared about right now. His body fell on top of yours, yet he was careful as to not apply all of his body weight on top of yours because given that you were not enhanced in anyway – it would definitely crush you.

 You wrapped your limbs around him once again as he moved to lay right next to you on the bed.

“I’ve always liked this bed, you know. And having you in it with me is just, heaven on Earth,” he whispered, kissing your sweaty forehead as he held you close.

 You chuckled at his absolutely random confession.

You calmed you heartbeat and breathing before replying.

 “I love you, Steve. Anywhere is heaven on Earth when I’m with you,” you confessed and placed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on top of it.

He laughed and placed a kiss on top of your hair, while stroking it gently.

It was true, this was your true definition of happiness. Here, with him in your bed; both of you tired and worn out from making love, limbs tangled with one another, the smell of sex in the air as you both tried to calm your racing hearts.

This was how you intended to spend the rest of your life, with him.

 However, you couldn’t help but hear the faint whisper of your conscience asking you if he wanted the same.

Was this what he wanted as well? Did he envision his forever being with you?

 You tried your hardest to silence the faint voice down.

 “Hey, earlier in your text you said you needed to talk. Is everything okay?” you asked, desperately wanting that the little voice would just shut up.

His charming smile faded instantly as soon as those words left your mouth.

“Steve? Is everything okay?” you asked again and he shifted from under you and laid on his side, facing you properly as his hand flew to your cheek, his knuckles gently caressing the soft skin.

 “We, uh, had another meeting today. Well, more like a heated discussion, if not an argument really. All of us, and Pepper was there too. I guess that’s why she was late to pick up Morgan, I don’t know. Look, what I-“

“You guys had a meeting without me? Why? Steve, I deserve to know what’s going on just like the rest of you do,” you couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice. And he caught it.

 You sat up and pulled your blanket to cover your body from the chilly air coming from the AC.

Steve sighed and sat up too, getting under the covers with you.

You both leaned against the head board as Steve tried his best to answer to your queries.

 “I know. And you do, you have the complete right to be mad at all of us, but just know that it was my idea not to tell you,” he explained and you couldn’t help but feel unwanted.

 “Why?” was all you asked, your voice cracking in the process, and he sighed again before continuing.

 “I proposed something. And I didn’t need someone else to tell me what a horrible idea it was while none of you understood that this is the right way to do it,” his words confused you.

“Steve, I don’t understand, what I-,”

 “That stones. I’m gonna go return them, tomorrow. It’s high time now. How long are we gonna hold on to them and pretend that it’s too dangerous. We have to get them back to where they belong. Please, I was hoping that at least you would understand where I’m coming from,” he pleaded and you simply couldn’t ignore the lump in your throat.

You had all collectively agreed that it was a dangerous mission, with a crap ton of risks. And now, Steve was willing to risk it all.

 “But, can’t someone else go? We can’t risk you Cap,” you were on the verge of tears. And he pulled you into his lap and held you close; placing his forehead against yours.

 “And I can’t risk any of you while I sit here and wait. I have to be the one to do it. I’m the Captain, don’t forget that,” he further argued and the tears fell down your cheeks because you couldn’t hold them back anymore.

You were crying because you were afraid you would lose him, but also, because he was adamant; he was hell bent since day one about how he was the one who should go return the stones and ever since – you couldn’t help but feel as though this was more than him carrying out his ‘Captain’ duties. Somewhere, deep within your heart, you truly believed that he was trying to change something in his past. And that hurt you more than losing him.

 “What if you miss the timing? What if you get stuck somewhere, we’ll never know. What if you get stuck, out of time, again? What if y-,”

 “Shh, hey baby. I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine. I’ll come back to you, I will. I will come back to all of you. I promise you,” he pulled you in for a kiss and suddenly, for some weird reason, you felt like he was drifting far from you. But he was right there, in your arms, then why did it feel like he wasn’t?

 You reluctantly agreed.

“Fine. I, I love you okay. Come back to me, please,” you whispered against his lips.

He didn’t answer, but he did capture your lips in a lazy, deep kiss. His hands held you close to him and in that moment; you forgot everything.

And you were too busy to notice that he didn’t say anything when you confessed your love for him.

   Steve left after you both went for round 2, and cuddled for a while. You asked Mr. J to turn back on in the first floor and you went in your bathroom for a much needed bath.

While your body soaked in the tub, filled with peach scented oils and frothy bath bombs – you couldn’t stop the tears once again.

You thought about everything; your dad, your broken family and how alone you would be if it weren’t for Steve.

And while you were at it, you thought about Steve as well. What a story he had, of a super soldier trapped out of time in a world he didn’t quite fit in.

You thought about how scared he must have been when he woke up for the first time in 70 years, in the middle of a bustling city; out of time.

You thought about how heartbroken he must’ve felt when he realized that he had left his first love behind while he was stuck in this advanced world; out of time.

 Hot tears fell down your face as your racing thoughts didn’t stop.

 What if this isn’t what he wants?

Steve’s been trying so hard to fit in this fast paced world – one where he wasn’t supposed to be in the first place.

What if it was selfish of you to forcing him to stay here with you?

Maybe, you thought, you should just leave him the choice while the power would be in his hands tomorrow?

This, was never the life he chose. He’s trapped here. But what if he could change that, and live the life he wanted? What if he could really be with the one he once truly loved?

 Your heart broke hearing your own thoughts, but you knew you had to let him go. Your dad taught you better than to be selfish when it comes to love. And you were gonna do the right thing, tomorrow.

  -NEXT MORNING-

 Guess it’s safe to say that you woke up wiser. You knew just what to do.

After a quick breakfast, you drove straight to the compound and made your way inside once you parked your car.

 “And she finally left the house! I’m so happy you’re here, y/n!” Wanda gave you a long hug and you two casually talked for a while.

A few minutes later, Bruce walked in with Sam hot on his heels and it looked like they were arguing.

 “…but you’re sure that he’ll make it back in one single piece because dude, he’s Captain America and one single mistake on your part and the entire country is gonna kick your huge, green a- Y/N! Hey, you’re here too!” Sam pulled you in for a hug as well.

You chuckled and hugged him back tightly.

 “Hey birdie, missed me?” you asked and he just gave you one of his soft, caring smiles.

“Can’t lie, I did miss your annoying ass,” he answered and soon, Bruce picked you up from behind.

 “HEY! We missed you!” the gentle giant said and you tried your best not giggle as he tickled your sides.

“I missed you guys too. Is Steve here?” you asked and Sam quickly told you that he was upstairs getting his quantum suit on.

 You told the rest of the team that you’d be back in a minute as you rushed upstairs. You needed to talk to him urgently.

While on your way up, you bumped into a hard body.

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” you quickly apologized and looked up only to be met with a pair of crystal blue eyes.

Bucky placed his metal arm on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, smiling gently at you.

 “You okay, doll? You seem a little shaken up, you alright?” he asked and you nodded, unable to speak because you were mentally rehearsing the speech you were about to deliver to Steve.

“Okay, I’m here if you ever need to talk. See you around,” he said and made his way downstairs.

 You rushed through the corridor until you reached Steve’s room. You knocked and from inside came a muffled voice.

“Come in, Y/n,” was all it said and you pushed the door open and rushed inside.

“Hey Steve, uh, can we talk?” you asked.

“Sure, what’s wrong?” he asked, fixing his suit and securing the Pym particle on his side.

“I, I love you. Okay, I really do. You helped me when I couldn’t help myself. You, and the others, you got me out of my misery and you always knew how to cheer me up. Even when dad was gone, you were always there. You’re my best friend Steve, you’re my rock, and I love you. But…”

Your voice trailed off as you didn’t know how to word your emotions. You loved him, you really did – but holding on to him and asking him to stay would be selfish. And you couldn’t be selfish anymore, not when he had the chance to get his life, and his first love back. You wanted him to be happy, you wanted him to have the happy life he deserved. Even if it meant, not sharing the life with you.

“But? But what- hey are you okay? Y/n, please don’t cry, tell me what’s wrong babe, please,” he walked up to you and wrapped his arm around you while his other hand caressed your cheeks, wiping away your fallen tears in the process.

 You sniffled and thought, maybe you should just say it.

“I, uh, I think you should stay back. I think you should live your life, with Peggy, back in time,” you whispered and for just a split moment, his breathing stopped.

He didn’t say a word so you thought you should clarify things further.

“No one has to know, Steve. I know you don’t fit in here. I know you loved her, a lot. And in just a matter of time, you’ll have the power in your hands. The stones, you can use them and, maybe, stay behind and live the happy life you deserve. With her, she’s the love of your life after all,” you said, a few more tears falling down your cheeks.

These ones, he didn’t wipe away because he was unable to move as the words left your mouth.

 “Y/n… I, what? I can’t leave?” it sounded more like a question than a statement to you.

“You deserve it, Steve. I won’t say a word to anyone. I will always love and respect you as a person Steve. I value our friendship more than anything. All the time I spent with you, all those moments, they’ll always be special to me. But you deserve a happy life, Captain. One where you’re not out of time, one which you spend with the love of your life. You deserve that, Steve, you really do. As for us, we’ll manage, don’t worry,” you wiped your tears and hugged him tightly.

 “You are one of the best person I’ve ever met, y/n. I love you, I, I don’t know what to say,” he whispered against your hair.

You smiled.

 You were hurting, but realizing the true happiness he’ll receive once he goes back made everything better. You loved him, and you were gonna lose him, but somehow, it felt like it needed to happen.

  You both walked out of the room and the entire team was waiting for you outside. It was time for Steve to go, but the rest of the team had no idea; that he was actually going.

You could see the worry clear on Sam’s face, while Bucky was smiling faintly at you.

Wanda was nowhere to be seen, and Bruce was busy with the time machine. You both walked up to the machine and Steve stopped to give Sam and then Bucky a hug. The two super soldiers shared a hundred year old inside joke and you smiled looking at both of them.

When they pulled away from the hug, Bucky gave you a half smile, and a curious look. One which you couldn’t quite understand but you soon shook it off as Steve wrapped his arms around you once again.

“Thank you, y/n, for everything,” he whispered quietly in your ear.

You inhaled his faint cologne one last time and gave his body a tight hug.

“Thank you for everything, Steve. Now, go live your life Captain,” you whispered back in his ear and he pulled away smiling.

 Steve stepped on the time machine and smiled back at all of you.

“How long is it gonna take?” Sam asked Bruce. The worry in his tone was still very audible.

“For him, however long he needs. For us, ten seconds,” Bruce replied, going through everything one more time.

You stood right next to the machine and soon, Bucky was by your side.

“You did the right thing, y/n. It was a hard decision, but I’m glad you took the right one,” he whispered in your ear, and his words were unheard by both Sam and Bruce.

 You turned your head abruptly to face him but before you could say anything, Bruce spoke up.

“Going quantum in 3, 2, 1,” and while he spoke, Steve’s mask was on and the machine whirred loudly.

And within a nanosecond, Steve was gone. And your heart felt heavy again.

A couple of seconds passed and the worry on Sam’s face grew even more prominent.

“And back in 3, 2, 1,” Bruce said, flipping a switch or two.

 But nothing happened. Steve didn’t come back. He listened to you after all.

 While Sam and Bruce argued over what was happening, you felt a cold, metal hand against your cheek. It was Bucky, and you didn’t realize that he had held you close to him the whole time as you watched Steve leaving.

“Don’t cry doll, you did the right thing,” he whispered and you nodded.

“Thanks Buck, I know. He deserved it, he deserved a chance to live his life with the one he truly loves,” you spoke in a low voice and he hugged you tightly.

   ***

He left her lonely with a diamond mind And those ocean eyes

[obligatorynasty]

The Weight of the Knife, Part 2: Whetstone

Part: [1] [2] [3] | Read on: AO3 | WC: ~7k | Please excuse any typos.

Main Tags: BadBoy!Tony, Highschool AU, NFF, Angst, TW:Mentions of Blood, TW:Abuse, TW:Graphic Depictions of Violence, TW:Bullying, TW:Underage Drinking and Smoking, Bruises, Hangovers and Mentions of Puke, [Read all tags on AO3]

Dedicated to @starker-stories, whose love for this AU kept me motivated to write more.

~*6*~

With the sheen of the morning sun and the general lack of partygoers and trash in the front lawn, Steve’s house was actually much nicer than Peter remembered. A proper dose of suburbia, complete with a neutral color palette and a brick mailbox. In the driveway, Steve, Sam, Happy, and Rhodey were packing the cars. Pepper, Bruce, and Bucky were chatting on the porch, while Tony was parked near the curb, leaning against his car with a cigarette perched between his lips. As for Quentin, he hadn’t arrived yet and, for that, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. 

As MJ parked her car and went to join the group on the porch, Ned and Peter hopped out to help move the groceries into coolers, grabbing handfuls of bags from the trunk and walking them up the driveway.

“Hey, Peter,” Rhodey greeted, a friendly smile on his face as he took the bags. “Thanks for inviting us to this.”

“Of course,” Peter nodded, trying on a smile of his own, hoping it came off as genuine. “You guys are Tony’s friends.”

“Speaking of Tony,” Rhodey handed the groceries off to Happy and ushered Peter away from prying ears, whispering a wary, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two but Tony is really beaten up about it.”

Peter’s fake smile dropped into a concerned frown as he stole a glance at the brooding bad boy. “Did he say anything?”

“It’s less of what he did say and more so what he didn’t,” Rhodey crossed his arms. “He’s been working on Jarvis non-stop, like no sleep, no talking, no nothing for the entire weekend. The last time he was like this was when Pepper dumped him. So, as his friend, I’m asking: did you dump him?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“No,” Peter answered without hesitation, shaking his head, eyes widening in worry, “Does that mean he’s... is Tony dumping me?” He whispered, his heart beginning to race as he nervously gripped at the bottom hem of his shirt.

“No, no way!” Rhodey shook his head, lightly laughing, “He would never. Not with the way he talks about you.” He placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean? He talks about me?”

“All the fucking time,” Rhodey explained. “He literally won’t shut up about you. So when he just stopped, I got worried,” He shrugged, gesturing over to Tony.  “So can you go talk to him? See if you can stop him from being so angsty. Try to keep him from sucking the life out of the air.”

“I don’t know,” Peter sighed, shaking his head, “Talking has not gone well for us and I don’t want to start a fight, especially when everyone is trying to have a good time.” 

“I see,” Rhodey nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought before flashing a bright smile. “Then, if talking doesn’t work, just go over there and hug him or something. I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Wait, w-what?” Peter asked but Rhodey was already urging him towards the sidewalk, guiding him by the shoulders down the driveway, leaving him to take the final steps.

Peter hadn’t seen Tony all weekend; it was the first time that’s happened since they started dating. The older boy was wearing a black tank top, his arms exposed and crossed. Only moving them to toss the cigarette that was nothing but its yellow end. The sunglasses he wore were tinted so dark that Peter couldn’t see his eyes, but he guessed, by his relaxed chin and still face, that his eyes were expressionless.

“Hi,” Peter whispered, standing a couple of strides away, idly twiddling his fingers.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice sounded deeper than usual but Peter couldn’t tell why – if only he could see his eyes.

Peter gestured to the sunglasses, “Can you- um… take those off? Please.” 

“Why?” 

“Just because,” Peter mumbled, stepping towards his boyfriend with caution. Standing a mere inch away, close enough to inhale the lingering cigarette smoke and feel the heat of Tony’s body. “That okay?” He asked, eyes gentle and pleading.

Tony clenched his jaw, grumbling a short, “Whatever.”

Peter reached up, gently tugging the frames away from Tony’s eyes and frowning when he saw how red and puffy they were. The sight was heartbreakingly relatable. Over the weekend, Peter had cried in waves; tearing up at the thought of their arguments, or the bruise on his wrists, or the memories of their happier moments. He managed to hold back his emotions this morning because he had MJ and Ned to distract him but the state of Tony’s eyes had him biting the inside of his lip. He inhaled slowly, willing the emotions away and asking a careful, “Were you crying?”

“No,” Tony lied – blatantly lied – and didn’t bother coming up with an excuse either.

So Peter didn’t bring it up. Instead, he opened his arms and dropped his body against Tony’s, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s torso. It just felt right, even more so when Tony reciprocated. The hug was a wordless comfort; an apology through touch; a feeling of mutual understanding. An agreement to put it all aside; to enjoy their now and fix it later. Yes, they fought – yes, they were fighting – but this hug meant they still felt for each other and that made all the difference.

Peter nuzzled his face against Tony’s chest, relishing in the familiar comfort before gazing up at him, “Can we ride to the beach alone together?”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered, kissing Peter’s forehead and bringing a hand up to cup his face, using his thumb to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Peter gave a solemn smile, “Me too.”

“Okay, lovebirds, that’s enough. We’re not done packing the cars yet. You can fuck each other later.” Rhodey interrupted, making the group burst into laughter.

And Tony laughed too, letting Peter put the sunglasses back before turning to Rhodey with a smile on his face. “Anything you say, Platypus.”

After that, the tension seemed to dissipate. Tony’s friends and Peter’s friends were peacefully mingling with each other, chatting and working to pack the cars. Everything was relaxed and fun and, for a brief yet amazing moment, stress free. 

Then Quentin showed up.

“Hey guys!” He waved, stepping out of his car to introduce himself to Tony’s friends. He was bleeding charisma, managing to get some laughs as he helped put the remainder of supplies in his trunk before walking over to Peter.

“Hey, kid,” Quentin playfully smiled, throwing an arm across Peter’s shoulders like it was second nature. “How are you doing today? Is he giving you any trouble?” He asked, gesturing to Tony, who was visibly tense and scowling at Quentin like he was the scum of the earth.

“No,” Peter shook his head, awkwardly pulling away from Quentin’s hold and stepping closer to Tony.

Quentin audibly tsked, “Of course you would say that with him standing there.”

Tony flinched at that, briefly clenching his fist before taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ll be in the car.” He said, turning and walking towards his car

“Tones, wai-” Peter called out, being promptly cut off by the slam of the car door before turning his attention back to Quentin. “Honestly, Beck, you don’t have to worry about it. Me and Tony are just working through some stuff.”

Quentin sighed, “I get that but – I don’t know, Peter – he just seems dangerous. I’m worried that you’ll get hurt again.”

“I appreciate it but Tony isn’t dangerous,” Peter assured. “He’s more complex than that.”

“Fine but, at least, would you ride with me to the beach?” Quentin asked, grabbing Peter’s hand. “It will give me some peace of mind to know you’re safe.”

Peter quickly pulled his hand away, shrugging, “Sorry, Beck, I can’t. I already said I would ride with Tony and, like I said, he isn’t dangerous. I’ll be completely fine.”

Quentin clenched his teeth, “But you-”

“Okay everyone!” Steve interrupted. “We’re all set to go. Let’s try and get there before the sun goes down.”

With that, everyone piled into the cars, ready to road trip. Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Ned rode in MJ’s car and, naturally, Happy took Rhodey, Pepper, and Bruce. Peter was the only one left but his choice was made. Although he felt bad for leaving Quentin by himself, he would ride with Tony. 

So Peter jumped into the passenger seat, wary at first that Quentin’s words had stoked a flame but happy to see Tony calmly selecting music. He smiled, soaking in the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes, glad to be in Tony’s car without an argument brewing. Sounds of the whirring engine and the passing scenery were not as nerve-wracking with the gentle hum of his boyfriend’s singing. The moment was soothing and the temporary peace was the exact kind of comfort Peter needed. He was grateful. He really, really was – but he also wasn’t.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still upset,” Peter whispered. “It’s not going away.”

Tony nodded, breathing a deep sigh, “Yeah, me too.”

~*7*~

“Peter, wake up, we’re here.”

Peter roused from his slumber, lifting his head off the window and wiping a drop of drool from the corner of his mouth. He stretched, glancing at Tony as the car came to a stop in the driveway. “We’re here? How long was I asleep?”

“The whole ride,” Tony laughed as he pulled the keys from the ignition and reached across to fetch his cigarettes from the glove compartment.

“Oh,” Peter flashed an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should’ve stayed up to keep you company.”

“I didn’t mind. You’re cute when you snore, bab- uh... I mean, Peter.” Tony stumbled on his words, shaking his head as he exited the car.

And despite the awkward correction, those words were enough to make Peter’s face go warm, tinted pink in the evening sun as he stepped out of the car and into the sea-salted air. 

The beach house was gorgeous with its glass-enclosed sun room, its soft pastel tones, and its large stilts to protect from the tides. The deck was well equipped with a fire pit, some lounge chairs, a grill, and stairs that led directly to the beach, which was by far the best part. The sand was picturesque – a perk of being on a privately maintained beach – and the water was a mesmerizing blue, at least in the orange hue of the budding sunset.

“Steve, this place is amazing!” Ned exclaimed as he ran up the front steps. “Let's hurry and swim before it gets dark!”

Peter laughed to himself as the group seemed to mobilize around that sentiment; unloading the cars in less time than it took to pack them and promptly settling sleeping arrangements. Naturally, Steve, Sam, and Bucky took the master bedroom, disappearing in there without question. Ned, Bruce, Rhodey, and Happy stole a room with two double beds, boasting about their en suite bathroom. As for the remaining three rooms, MJ and Pepper claimed one with a view of the beach, Quentin took the smallest one at the end of the hall, and Tony and Peter settled for the room with one window.

“This place is really nice,” Peter made small talk as he laid his suitcase against the floor of their room, unzipping it to unpack his things. 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, tossing his duffel bag to the floor before sitting against the edge of the bed. An uncomfortable silence washed over the atmosphere. The only sounds were the rustle of Peter’s bag and the whoosh of waves from beyond the window.

“Hey.” Tony broke the silence.

“Hm?” Peter turned towards his boyfriend, surprised to find an outstretched hand beckoning him to the bed. He didn’t question it. He simply made his way over, taking a seat next to Tony and glancing at him out the corner of his eye.

Without warning, the older boy clasped his hand in Peter’s, squeezing gently, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed out, keeping his words scarce, fearful that more would cause their interaction to spiral. 

For a few long minutes, Tony just held Peter’s hand, idly dragging his thumb back and forth, caressing the younger boy’s skin. Then, he skimmed his hand down towards Peter’s wrist, brushing his fingertips against the tender bruise before whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Peter assured, turning his head to be kissed but blushing when he realized what his boyfriend meant. 

Tony didn’t lean in. Instead, he lifted Peter’s wrist and left a flurry of soft kisses on the bruise. Slowly trailing upward, peppering kisses across Peter’s palm and fingertips. He paused, whispering against Peter’s skin, “Can I touch you more?”

Peter gave a soft smile, “Yeah, Tones.”

And Tony smiled – but it wasn’t all happiness – no, somewhere in his eyes Peter could see the worry lurking. Even as he grasped Peter’s waist and pulled him into his lap, he was so oddly careful. Careful in the way he skimmed his fingertips against the tops of Peter’s thighs. Careful in the soft trail up Peter’s back and the faint grip on his sides. Careful in the way his eyes flickered between those big brown orbs and those smooth pink lips. Deathly careful in the tone of his voice, so tender and desperate, “I don’t want to upset you anymore.”

Those barely-there words were like sirens in Peter’s ears, leaving a twisting pain in his chest as memories of their fights flooded his thoughts. All the confusion, all the insecurity, all the hurt. Feelings so vivid in his mind as he pressed his lips against Tony’s, seeking comfort in the very source of all his strife.

Their kiss was gentle and innocent, paired with soothing touches that sent static tingles up Peter’s spine and a flurry of emotions that brought tears down his cheeks. Silently trickling from the corners of his eyes as he brought his hands up to caress the stubble along Tony’s jaw. Thumbing tiny circles into the older boy’s cheek, guiding their lips even closer before pulling away slow, hovering just beyond that sweet sensation.

A blink sent cascades of new tears down the contours of Peter’s face as he stared into the pools of anxiety that were his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’m so mad at you,” He whispered against Tony’s lips, his voice shaky as the taste of warm breath and tears swirled inside his senses. “But I’m weak,” He breathed out a soft, defeated laugh. “I’m so fucking weak for you, Tony.”

For a moment, Tony’s lips trembled, parting and closing as if to vet the words that lay beneath. “I-” He spoke, his face hot against Peter’s fingertips before he tucked his forehead against his boyfriend’s collarbone, tightening his hold to further convey the message of his simple, yet curated words. “I missed you.”

Peter smiled through his tears, bringing his hands to Tony’s dark locks, threading his fingers through to the nape of his neck, where he rubbed mindless shapes into the flushed skin. “I missed you too, Tones.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you,” Tony muttered, his breath tickling the curve of Peter’s neck.

“But you hurt me,” Peter’s voice was borderline unstable and each deep breath he took only caused more tears to flow. “You have to tell me why. Please.”

Tony inhaled and held it, lifting his head and locking gazes with Peter, revealing the single tear stain that streaked across his cheek. As he exhaled, he struggled against the wetness pooling on his lashes, “Because I’m broken... and jealous—”

“Tony,” Peter breathed out, worry painted across his tone.

“—and everything was so out of control.” Tony paused, clenching his teeth and taking another breath. “The shit at home has gotten bad and seeing you with Quentin scared me,” His hands trembled against Peter’s skin, “It made me feel like you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Tony," Peter gave a small, reassuring smile. "You’re the only one I want.”

“But I’m scared you’ll leave.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

The next moments were filled with nothing but the echo of heartbeats and breaths as they embraced not only each other but the breakthrough they yearned for. A conversation that ended without anger; a conversation they needed; one they craved.

Yet again, Tony was the first to break the silence. This time with a more lighthearted tone. “You look hot today.”

“You like the shirt?” Peter softly giggled, wiping the tears from his face, “May bought it so I could look floral and beachy.”

“You look so cute in it, baby,” Tony smiled, pressing a kiss against Peter’s cheek.

“T-Tones,” Peter stuttered, averting his bashful eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, do you know that?”

“Tony-”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” Peter laughed. “You tell me all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s still not enough,” Tony grinned, squeezing his arms where they sat at Peter’s waist. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” Peter’s laughter trailed off as he pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Now, I don’t want to ruin this mood, but we should probably join the others.”

“Or we could stay here,” Tony’s tone dropped low, husky and tempting against Peter’s ear. “And you can let me apologize to you properly.”

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, “W-We shouldn’t r-right now.”

“Not right now, hm?” Tony whispered against the skin beneath Peter’s ear, “What if I say I’ll do anything you want?”

Those words sent chills across Peter’s skin. “A-Anything?” 

“Anything you want, baby boy,” Tony assured.

A small whine escaped Peter’s lips as he posed a shaky, “Later t-tonight?”

Tony smirked, grazing his hand against his boyfriend’s inner thigh, “If you can even last till then.”

Peter’s face exploded in a dark blush. “I c-can!” He exclaimed, sliding off of Tony’s lap and walking over to his suitcase to grab his swim shorts, facing the wall to hide his embarrassment.

Tony snorted, “Whatever you say, baby.” The bed creaked as he stood and in a few short steps, his palms were pressing against the wall on either side of Peter’s frame. “But if that changes—”

Peter spun around, intending to interrupt but being dazed by the sight in front of him. Somewhere between the bed and wall, Tony had managed to remove his tank top. Fuck.

“—I’ll be here to help in any way I can,” Tony whispered, staring at Peter with a suggestive glint in his eyes as his tongue shot across his bottom lip. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter squeaked, his face much redder than before as he ran off to the bathroom to change. 

In the honesty of the bathroom mirror, Peter could see how much of an impact Tony had on him; from flushed face to racing heart to budding erection. It was actually a nice feeling; to have that pain, which lingered inside him over the weekend, slowly evaporating. To know the bruise on his wrist would be easier to bear. To feel that his strife wasn’t eternal. It was nice.

Peter changed into his swimwear, opting to leave his floral shirt on but unbuttoned. He splashed his face with cold water and took a few deep breaths, calming his arousal before journeying back across the hall to their room. 

Tony was lounging across the bed, shirt still off, swiping through his phone. “You could’ve got changed in here.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Peter laughed. “And you know it.”

Tony gave a sly grin, “Yeah, probably not.”

“What are you looking at?” Peter asked as he tossed his clothes atop his suitcase. “Aren’t you going to come swim?”

“I will. I’m just checking this notification about Jarvis.”

“What about him?”

“I spent a lot of time improving him this weekend,” Tony explained. “Upgrading his processing and, before I left, I ran some diagnostics.”

“Is everything working fine?”

“Yeah, he can even access Stark Industries now,” Tony smiled. “I’m a genius.”

“Okay, mister genius,” Peter rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but to grin, “I’m going to go swim so hurry up and get changed!” He giggled at Tony’s lazy Yes sir! as he exited the room and headed out the backdoor to the deck area.

Outside, nearly everyone was in the water or on the beach, save for the small group standing around the grill. Music, that Peter could only categorize as beach vibes, was pumping through the giant standing speaker Bruce brought. And the smell of grilled vegetables and barbecue permeated the salty air. This was the most spring break of a spring break trip Peter has ever taken and honestly, he couldn’t complain.

As Peter approached the grill, Bucky and Sam started whistling, playfully catcalling him. “Someone looks real glowy,” Bucky mentioned, gesturing up and down Peter’s body. 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, lightly laughing along. “Some might call it that after-sex glow.”

“Guys,” Peter covered his face, “We didn’t!”

“Sure you didn’t,” Bucky teased.

“What didn’t you do?” Quentin asked, walking over with Steve, who was carrying a nearly empty platter of grilled kabobs.

“You see, Peter took so long because he was fu-” Sam began.

“I was nothing!” Peter interrupted, shooting Sam an exasperated look. “Let’s not talk about me,” He shook his head, nervously smiling, “Let’s talk about this food! It smells delicious.”

“You want some?” Quentin offered, grabbing the last kabob from the platter and holding it up to Peter’s mouth. “Have a bite.”

“Um, o-okay,” Despite being caught off guard, Peter took a quick bite, enjoying the savory flavors as it was fed to him and pulling away with a smile. “Wow, the sauce is good, guys!”

Sam sighed, shaking his head, “Quentin, you really have bad timing, bro.” He pointed to the back door, where Tony stood staring at the scene.

“Whatever, man,” Quentin just scoffed, unbothered, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Peter froze, watching as the bad boy strolled towards them, genuinely worried that he would be set off again by Quentin’s actions. “Hey, Tones, we were jus-!”

Without warning, Tony grabbed Peter by his waist and leaned in, licking some stray sauce from the corner of Peter’s mouth. The sight made Steve, Sam, and Bucky erupt into a symphony of Oooo’s and oh shit’s but, most importantly, laughter.  

Tony pulled away, smirking at the flush on his boyfriend’s face. “That is good, did you make that Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Steve said through his laughter. “Well played, Tony.”

“I try,” Tony shot a smug grin towards Quentin, whose face had dropped into a scowl.

And Peter had no time to respond before Ned and MJ were calling him to get in the water and enjoy your spring break, dude!

~*8*~

After swimming and dinner and a fair amount of relaxation around the fire pit, the night began to spiral. Sam and Rhodey were pushing for drinking games because what’s the point of all these handles if we’re not going to get fucked up. It was a compelling argument. One that had them taking penalty shots if they uttered the word ‘cup’ during any game and gave rise to the chaotic drunk duo of Ned and Happy.

Peter learned a lot from these games, like how inexplicably well MJ could hold her liquor or how drunk Bruce could solve high-level calculus in his head without paper or a calculator. Then there was Steve, Sam, and Bucky’s shameless demonstration of a three-way kiss and, after a hilarious body shot dare, there were also lighthearted jokes about Rhodey’s huge crush on Pepper. However, to Peter, the best moment was watching Tony beat every single guy in the room at arm wrestling, especially Quentin.

As the festivities died down, Peter realized something a little later than he should have. He was hammered; smashed; thoroughly fucked up; wasted; trashed; drunk and, subsequently, super fucking horny. 

Was alcohol supposed to work like this? Peter really didn’t know but something about Tony’s lap looked so inviting. All the bad boy was doing was sitting, arms resting across the top of the couch, knees parted for comfort – he was even wearing a shirt now – but Peter’s mind had ventured somewhere perverted; somewhere with that shirt off and thrown against the floor.

Suddenly, Peter was much closer than he was before. Fuck, how did he get here? Did he crawl over? He didn’t know, but that grin on Tony’s face definitely reads my boyfriend just crawled across the floor and has taken refuge between my legs. Peter giggled, his tone slurred and playful, “You want me to suck your dick, don’t you?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Tony grinned as he leaned forward, elbows against knees, bringing a hand to Peter’s flushed face.

“Yes,” Peter hummed, nuzzling Tony’s palm.

Tony gave a low, amused laugh, “Right here, in front of everyone, that’s what you want, baby?”

Oh, right. They weren’t alone. Peter glanced around the room. Most of the group had dispersed, but sitting on the adjacent couch were Steve, Sam, and Bucky. Judging by the litany of empty cans and bottles around them, they were all clearly beyond their buzz too. “Is that what you want, Tony?” Peter bit his lip and smiled, his body rocking back and forth to compensate for his spinning head.

Steve snorted, “No sucking dick in the living room unless it’s my dick.”

“I’ll suck your dick, doll,” Bucky whispered, slowly trailing his fingers down Steve’s chest.

“James, babe, don’t tease me.” Steve laughed.

Peter giggled, “You call him James?”

“What? Like you don’t call him Anthony when you’re alone.” Sam quipped.

“I don’t,” Peter pouted up at his boyfriend. “Why don’t you let me call you, Anthony?”

“I just hate how it sounds,” Tony shrugged as he gently caressed Peter’s warm face.

“Oh, okay, then I won’t,” Peter nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into Tony’s touches. “I like calling you Tones more anyway.”

“Yeah?” Tony smirked, moving to drag his thumb across Peter’s lips. “What else do you like?”

Peter whined and, if he wasn’t so filled with liquid courage, he wouldn’t have dipped his lips around Tony’s thumb and sucked the way he did. He wouldn’t have swirled his tongue around it or moaned on it. He wouldn’t have pulled off with a pop or given it so many tiny licks. He wouldn’t have done all those things if his body wasn’t as warm and as woozy as it was.

“Holy shit,” Sam mumbled with an incredulous look on his face. “That’s-”

“Hot,” Steve interjected.

Bucky shook his head, “Fucking hot.”

“They’re complimenting you, baby,” Tony whispered as he skimmed his fingers down Peter’s chin and stopped against his nipple, massaging the pad of his now wet thumb against the nub. “How’s that make you feel?”

“Good,” Peter softly moaned, leaning into the gentle pleasure his boyfriend gave.

Tony smiled, using his free hand to card through his boyfriend’s hair, “You should thank them then.”

Peter’s already flushed face went a deeper shade of red and his voice dropped to a murmur, “Um… But I-I’m...embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Tony smirked, pointing to the very enraptured group of drunk teens. “Look, they can’t wait to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” Peter whispered, turning towards them with his chin tilted towards his chest. “T-Thank you...um, Steve, Sam, Bucky...for the compliment.”

“Stark, you’re killing me here,” Steve groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch as Sam placed a hand over his mouth like he was trying to conceal a grin.

“Of course, doll,” Bucky replied with a smile. “You’re so cute, how could we not?”

“Agreed!” It was Quentin, entering the room with slurred speech and a mischievous smile. “Peter is cute. Really fucking cute.” He stressed, rounding the couch and taking a seat beside Tony and Peter.

Tony grimaced, pulling his hand away as he stood, “Peter, get up. Let’s go to our room.”

“What? No. Go ahead and continue the show, Stark, don’t mind me,” Quentin said as his eyes dropped to Peter. “I would love for Peter to thank me too.”

Tony inhaled sharp, muscles tensed with anger, “Don’t test me.”

“No, Tony,” Peter whined, gently tugging at the ankle of his boyfriend’s sweatpants. “Don’t be mad. Beck is nice to me.”

“See, Stark?” Quentin flashed a smug grin. “I’m nice to him. So relax. How about we have a drink, hm?” He offered, reaching to the bottles strewn about the coffee table and grabbing a nearly empty tequila. “We can finish this off.” He took a large swig before offering it to Peter. “Here, kid.”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled, taking a swig of his own, the taste leaving his face twisted in discomfort. “That’s gross!” He exclaimed, hiccuping a couple times and causing everyone to laugh. Except for Tony.

“Peter, seriously-!” Tony snapped, reaching to pull the bottle away, surprised when Peter dodged him.

“No!” Peter slurred, clutching the bottle to his chest. “You said you wouldn’t make me mad anymore. So stop!”

Tony clenched his fists, trying to hold back his anger, “Don’t do this right now.”

“Hey, he said stop,” Quentin interjected, standing from the couch and facing Tony with irritation in his eyes. “So why don’t you stop being such a fucking dick?”

Tony seethed, “I swear if you open your fucking mouth again-”

“You’ll what?” Quentin challenged. “You obviously got a problem with me, Stark, so do something!” Quentin scoffed, arms outstretched like he was inviting Tony to hit him.

“No, don’t fight,” Peter urged, his brow furrowed and his lips in a pout, as he stood up a bit too fast, dropping the bottle and stumbling forward, careening face-first against Quentin’s chest.

“Well, hello there,” Quentin laughed, hands reactively clutching at Peter’s bare sides. “You feel just as nice as you look, sweetheart.” 

And that was it. 

Tony lost it.

The shock of the punch was enough to make Quentin drop Peter, who staggered away from them and tripped on the corner of the coffee table. And, as their battle raged on, Peter was falling, colliding against the floor with a loud thud! but even that wasn’t enough to stop their brawl. Things started to get hazy after that. Flashes of Tony wailing on Quentin, hard enough to make his nose bleed, and glimpses of the frantic way Steve and Sam tried breaking up the fight.

“Peter? Hey! Peter, get up! Peter,” Bucky was at his side – oh god, stop shaking me.

“Peter!” Somewhere in the haze, he could hear MJ too. “What the fuck are you idiots doing?!” She sounded pissed. “What happened to him?!” And worried. “Peter! Peter! Oh my god, he’s not waking up. Bucky, help me carry him.”

“Wait, no, MJ, let me help, I’ll-” Tony is so sweet. Yes, help her.

“No!” MJ yelled, “Stay the fuck away from him until you get your shit together, you violent prick!” Fuck, that was a little harsh, MJ.

And then things went dark.

~*9*~

The next morning, Peter’s head was heavy, pounding like he had walked through a construction site and slept next to a running jackhammer. The daylight burned his corneas and – oh no, oh god – nausea hit him like a wave. With a hand over his mouth, he shot up, eyes scanning the room for a place to hurl, surprised to find a conveniently placed trash directly beside the bed. In the next moment, he was puking but it came out clear like he had chugged a ton of water. He groaned, holding his queasy stomach, attempting to collect his bearings. Noting two very important things: one, he was in Ned’s room, and two, hangovers were not to be taken lightly. What the fuck happened last night?

“Oh good, you’re up,” MJ said as she ambled into the room, her face disappointed and her arms crossed. “You really fucking scared me, Peter.”

“Me too, dude,” Ned said, strolling in behind her. “I’m filing an official complaint. Drunk me does not handle stress well.”

Peter laughed but the pressure in his temple left him wincing, “What happened?” He asked, his voice groggy as he fell back against the bed.

MJ sighed like she had been through hell, “You almost died—”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration,” Ned clarified.

“—and your violent boyfriend fought the new kid.”

“MJ, we’ve been over this, he isn’t violent,” Peter sighed, pausing as he processed what else she said. “Wait, is Tony okay?”

MJ dropped her face against her palm, “Of course he’s fine! You should be asking about Quentin, you know, the one with the black eye!” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Fucking hell, why do I even try?”

“They’re both okay,” Ned continued. “They didn’t fight that much, especially after you got sick and MJ bitched them out.”

“Oh god,” Peter let out a frustrated groan. “Is everyone else okay?”

“Yeah, Tony went out with his friends and I think Steve and the guys are outside swimming,” Ned explained. “We’re about to head to the store to grab some ice cream for everyone, so-”

“So, you need to go and apologize to Quentin,” MJ pressed. “He hasn’t been out of his room since last night.”

“Do I have to?” Peter complained, pulling the covers over his head in a sad attempt to hide from his problems.

“Yes!” MJ grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked him upright. “Go clean yourself up and apologize. I’m serious, Peter.”

“Ugh...fine,” Peter grumbled, reluctantly grabbing his puke trash can and following them out the room. “But what do I even say to him? I’m sorry you picked a fight you couldn’t win?”

MJ physically cringed, raising her voice in anger, “How about sorry my violent boyfriend beat the shit out of you?!”

“He’s not violent!” Peter snapped back, clearly exasperated, “Beck must’ve done something.”

“Quentin has been nothing but nice to you! Sure, he’s a flirty little shit, but that alone doesn’t make him worthy of getting his face kicked in,” MJ retorted. “You invited him on this trip, Peter. You made that choice!” She pointed at him, finger against his chest. “So take some fucking responsibility! And, just so we’re clear, you are not allowed to say Tony isn’t violent when I literally watched him give Quentin a black eye last night!”

Peter was floored by his best friend’s words, guilt filling his body as he stumbled to respond, “I- um...shit. MJ, I didn’t think- I’m sorry… I'm sorry you had to see that and I get it. You’re right.”

Ned nodded, placing a hand against Peter’s shoulder. “She usually is, dude.”

“I’ll talk to Beck,” Peter decided as he gestured to himself. “Right after I decontaminate.”

“Good, because you smell,” MJ said, smirking at the disgruntled face Peter made. “Also, so you can’t chicken out, figure out what kind of ice cream Quentin wants and text us,” She added just before disappearing down the steps with Ned.

Peter let out another long groan as he stalked into the bathroom to wash the trash can. Seeing himself in the mirror was awful, more awful in the bright lights above the vanity. His hair was a mess and, despite not having a shirt on, he was visibly sweaty. “Ugh,” Peter grumbled as he ran to grab his toiletries before hopping into the shower. His head still felt terrible, made worse by the thought of having to function for the remainder of the day. So, as he enjoyed his shower, he found himself swearing he wouldn't drink like that again.

After he got dressed and took the aspirin MJ kindly left on his nightstand, Peter made the journey to the room at the end of the hall. Pausing for a few beats before knocking on Quentin’s door. “Hey, Beck, it’s me, can I come in?”

A muffled Yeah came through the door, so Peter pushed it open, not at all fazed by the purple-ish bruise surrounding Quentin’s eye. “How are you?”

“Perfectly fine,” Quentin snarked, patting the bed beside him. “Your boyfriend has a good right hook.”

“And a good left,” Peter joked as he scooted onto the bed, pausing before beginning his apology. “Look, I’m sorry that Tony did that to you. It was wrong and I’ll talk to him about it.”

“It’s fine,” Quentin shrugged, turning against the bed, facing Peter. “Honestly, I probably deserved it.” He said, his eyes filled with worry. “I could’ve backed off but I just don’t like the way he talks to you.”

“What do you mean?” Peter squinted, still unsure about the specifics of last night.

“He’s dangerous, Peter, and I’m worried about you,” Quentin stressed. “You’re so amazing and kind, but also really funny and bold. You use words over fists and, I mean, you’re beautiful, like really, insanely beautiful.”

Peter blushed – much like he had done in the hallway after his and Beck’s first day together. Only, this time, Peter knew it definitely wasn’t infatuation. “Beck, I d-”

“I like you, Peter,” Quentin interrupted, reaching for Peter’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “I like you so much and, I’ll admit, seeing you with Tony makes me do stupid shit like fight but I just-”

“Beck,” Peter interrupted and took a slow breath, wanting his words to be as gentle as possible. “I’m sorry but I don’t like you in that way.” He began, “You’re nice as a friend but I’m in a relationship with Tony. I need you to understand that.”

“But are you happy with him?” Quentin challenged. “Didn’t he make you cry? Didn’t he hurt you?”

“Yes,” Peter gave a solemn nod, gently pulling his hand away from Quentin’s.“We had a bad fight but that’s part of it.” He shrugged, “I like him enough to work through stuff like that.”

Quentin sighed, falling back against the bed with a loud huff, “Not going to lie, my heart is a little broken right now.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better,” Peter smiled, trying to exude ease in his expression. “And if you ever feel comfortable enough, friendship will always be on the table. I mean, you saved me from Loki and we have so much in common.”

“A consolation friendship?” Quentin scoffed, a smile of disbelief planted firmly on his face. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Well, if you don’t take it, all you would have is a black eye, so…”

“Hey!” Quentin exclaimed, laughing and playfully chucking a pillow at Peter. For a moment, he seemed fine but then his voice trailed off into a whisper and he rolled over, burying his face against the covers. “Hey Peter, I kind of want to cry my eyes out right now, so could you…”

“Oh, um… Yeah! S-Sorry, I’ll leave,” Peter stammered, shooting up from the bed and heading out the door. 

And he made it all the way down the hall. He made it to his room. He made it to his bed. It was handled. Completely over and done. But a text from MJ had him rushing back. A simple question about ice cream had him standing in front of Quentin’s door.

At first, a whispered, “Hey Beck, MJ wants me to…” Then a pause as Peter listened; as Peter heard, yet again, betrayal. This time to the tune of one Quentin Beck.

Yes, I just tried that. It seems the Parker kid is actually in love with your son. 

Yes, I’ve maintained a connection. We’re friends. 

Yes, absolutely sir. I’ll check back in if anything changes over the week. 

No, thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Stark. I won’t let you down.

~*10*~

Peter found that ugly sobbing was easier to do alone. So, for the remainder of the morning, he held nothing back. Not the infuriated screams into his pillow. Not the weak laughter at events so difficult to understand that they brought him to hysterics. Not the moments of silence, where he would ball his fists and fight the urge to do uncontrollably dark things. Not the tears, not the panic, not the ounces of fear that laid dormant within him. 

But then Peter did; he held back those feelings, knowing he needed to pull himself together; grip his proverbial bootstraps and retaliate smart. So, while he cried into the void of his pillowcase, he also thought and considered and plotted. Like sharpening a blade on a whetstone, he planned and pictured the outcome over and over and over again until he was satisfied. Until he felt it was perfect enough to protect–

“Tony,” Peter gasped, surprised when he turned over to find his boyfriend standing by the door, watching with horror as tears flowed down Peter’s face. It was silent for a few moments of eye contact and shock, then Peter moved, sitting against the edge of the bed.

“P-Peter,” Tony’s voice trembled as he approached, dropping down onto his knees in front of Peter. “Hey, baby,” He breathed, gingerly cupping his hands on Peter’s arms. “I’m sorry...again. I know, I lost control, but I-”

Peter shook his head, “Tony-”

“Wait,” Tony interrupted, gazing up at Peter like a dog with its ears down. “Please don’t be upset. I know I messed up but please-”

“Tony, stop. It's not-”

“Peter, please don’t.”

“Don’t? What are you-?”

“Don’t break up with me,” Tony pleaded, a tear running from the corner of his eye. “Please.”

The sight of Tony’s single tear made ten times that amount fall from Peter’s eyes, but he shook his head, his voice rough from the sobs, “I’m not breaking up with you, Tony.”

“Really?” Tony breathed with disbelief, frantically searching Peter’s expression for the truth. “Then why are you crying?”

Peter gave a weak laugh and a flurry of more tears. “I’ll explain but I need to borrow Jarvis first.”

Tony was confused but wasted no time in handing his phone over. “Why do you-?”

“Just trust me,” Peter sniffled. “This is the only way I can know for sure.” He looked down at the phone, “Jarvis, give me everything Stark Industries has on Quentin Beck.”

“What?” Tony instantly reacted, shoulders tensing at the mere mention of his father’s company in relation to his rival. “Why?” A confusion so strong that it almost looked painful. “Why the fuck would Beck be in the Stark database?” 

“Because,” Peter began, one hand trembling around the phone and the other trembling where it clutched to Tony’s arm. “He works for your dad,” He turned the phone, revealing Quentin’s employee file. “He’s being paid to break us up.”

“I’ll kill him.” A whisper that brought forth a rage that brought forth a fire. 

Tony stood, body so tense that Peter could see the veins in his arms. He was seething, filled with pure hatred. He moved to his bag first, dumping the contents onto the floor until a very familiar butterfly knife clattered against it. In moments, the closed knife was in his hand and he was barreling towards the door, propelled by anger.

But Peter stepped in the way, pushing his hands against Tony’s chest. “Wait! You can’t, Tones!”

“No! Get the fuck out of my way, Peter!” Tony screamed, face going red in his outrage. “Get off!” He pushed Peter aside in one controlled shove. “He did this shit on purpose! He messed with us on purpose! He needs to pay!”

“I know!” Peter screamed back, throwing himself against Tony and locking his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “Tony, I know, but you can’t,” He pleaded, “Not in front of everyone!”

“Fuck that!” Tony snapped, trying to pull Peter off of him. “I’m going to break every bone in his fucking body!”

“You can’t!” Peter screamed once more, fighting against Tony’s strength with everything in his power.

“Why?! Why the fuck can’t I, Peter?!” Tony yelled, tossing the knife against the far wall in anger. “He’s gone too far!” He struggled more, pushing at Peter’s shoulders. “He deserves this, Peter, he- fuck,” He cursed, his strength waning as Peter held fast. “He fucking-” His voice was a whisper then, “He fucking takes everything,” He stressed, gasping before the tears came, no longer talking about Quentin Beck. “I’m just his fucking punching bag. Nothing I do is good enough."

And Peter looked up, bewildered as Tony’s breaths became sporadic; as his voice started to shake; as his eyes glossed over with a cloud of tears; as those tears slid down his terrified face; as he fully broke down. Relaxing in Peter’s hold, weakly dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, sobbing into his t-shirt.

“Mom is gone because of him,” Tony cried. “He controls everything. Everything! And he won’t even let me have the one fucking thing that makes this all worth it. Why is he trying to take you away too?”

Peter was quiet, letting the tears soak against him and realizing very quickly that this was the real weight of his knife. It was not to be some limiter for an unhinged delinquent; some purveyor of a faulty justice, deciding who gets cut down and when. It was this. This weakness in the blade; the part of it that was the most vulnerable; the part that, if struck, would crack the knife into a million pieces. It was Peter’s job to protect that part; to bear that weight; to hold the knife with intention.

“Don’t worry, Tones,” Peter whispered, pressing a kiss atop Tony’s head. “I’m not going anywhere and I promise I’ll take care of this.” He smiled, cupping his boyfriend’s face. “I’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

-

Read Part 3: Here.

[sunshinepeter]

the art of fashion

one

It started when Peter showed up for his and Tony’s new “Lab Day” in a shirt that said “You matter, unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light squared. Then you energy”. Tony didn’t comment, not wanting to destroy the fragile thing they had just established, whatever it was. 

But when Peter was wearing a “barium cobalt nitrogen” shirt the next week, Tony found himself commenting before he could stop. 

“Nice shirt,” he snorted. Peter looked down, and smiled dorkily. 

“Oh, yeah. May bought it,” Peter said quietly. He was blushing just slightly. 

“You know, no self respecting… person would wear that.” Tony sat down at his workbench, and Peter sat down at the one across from him. Peter had a slightly confused look on his face. 

“Then why would they sell them?” Peter asked, and Tony smirked in lieu of a response. After a second Peter mumbled, “I like it.”

“Then I like it too,” Tony said, still smirking. 

The next week he showed up in a shirt that said “name’s Bond, Ionic Bond”. Tony just smiled and told the boy that he thought it was funny. 

two

When Peter invited Tony and Rhodey to the small Halloween get together he and May had every year, he hadn’t really expected Tony to say “alright, what time should we come?”. 

But there they were, at seven (like Peter told them), Tony wearing a name tag with “Dave” on it, a la The Office and Rhodey wearing a fedora. Peter was in a full Peter Pan costume. 

“Get it?” Peter said awkwardly, spinning in a circle to give the full view of the all green outfit, and Tony burst out laughing. 

three 

When it started snowing at four p.m. on Christmas Eve, Peter didn’t think much of it. He was at the Compound with Tony and Rhodey, waiting for May’s flight to come in so he could go home and they could binge watch some Christmas movies, as they did every Christmas Eve. 

It was still snowing at six p.m. when Peter’s cell rang. May’s number. 

“Hey. Did you get off your plane?” Peter asked, and Rhodey looked up from across the room, where he was reading a book. Tony was on the phone in the other room with some investor or something. 

“Uh, didn’t get on it. I’m so sorry sweetie, the plane was delayed and I didn’t think anything of it, just a bit later, then it was delayed again, but they just cancelled it. I’m stuck here for the night.” 

“What?” Peter sat up straight, out of the slouch he had assumed while he sat on the over-fluffy couch. “You’re still in Minneapolis?” 

Rhodey stood up, stepping closer and sitting next to Peter, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“Yeah. Baby, I’m so so sorry,” May’s voice was hushed, obviously she was still in the airport. Peter felt bad, of course, but he also was sad because of course this would happen on Christmas Eve of all days. 

He hung up after a few minutes of her telling of how she was getting on a flight in the morning, right when the snow was supposed to stop, and how Peter would stay at the Compound for the night. 

“I’m sorry, kid.” Rhodey rubbed his arm consolingly, and Peter just sighed. “I mean, me and Tony aren’t that bad. We can still have fun if you’re up for it.” 

“I guess,” Peter grumbled. 

“C’mon. What can we do to make it a fun night?” 

Which is why an hour later when Tony finally got off the phone, he found Rhodey and Peter sitting on the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn between them, the smell of cookies in the oven, and both of them wearing Christmas-themed onesies while watching Elf. 

“Wha…” 

“We are having a Christmas sleepover. There’s a onesie in your size in the bathroom,” Rhodey said with a smile and threw a piece of popcorn at his boyfriend. 

Tony came back in an Olaf onesie and a grimace on his face. Peter flipped his hood up on his onesie and grinned. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was still good. 

four

Peter was already halfway through a cup of hot chocolate by the time Rhodey had managed to wake up and get to the kitchen, which was a miracle in itself. Rhodey naturally woke up extremely early, so coming in and seeing the kid already perched at the breakfast bar, scrolling through his phone, was odd. 

“Good morning,” He said, beelining straight to the coffeemaker to turn it on for Tony. He knew that Tony was going to want to see Peter before he went back to his aunt’s house, and the best way to wake Tony Stark up was with coffee, so he figured it was a safe bet. 

“Merry Christmas!” Peter chirped, obviously too chipper for the kid this morning. 

“You seem uncharacteristically awake this morning,” Rhodey commented as he prepared Tony’s favorite coffee, back to the kid.

“Christmas does that to me. No matter how late I go to bed or where I am, I always wake up extremely early on Christmas. The child in me is just excited, apparently. Thanks for the clothes, by the way.” 

Once Peter had gone off to bed, after many Christmas movies watched with Tony and Rhodey, Rhodey had peeked in to check on the kid per Tony’s request. He had seen that Peter had taken off the onesie, leaving it on the floor, which was obvious as onesies were extremely uncomfortable to try to sleep in, so Rhodey quickly gathered a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt for the kid to wear when he had woken up. 

Rhodey turned to tell him that it didn’t matter, and that he knew that onesies were uncomfortable, but stopped when he finally laid eyes on Peter. 

Peter’s hair was a mess, frizzy and all over the place on top of his head, caramel curls waving down in front of his eyes and ears, showing his desperate need for a haircut. He was slumped over a white coffee mug, wearing an oversized, red MIT sweatshirt that made it all the way around his hands, almost covering his fingertips, as he gripped the mug to seemingly capture it’s warmth. 

The sweatshirt had, at one point, belonged to Rhodey. It was eventually stolen by Tony, back in their early days of college. When Tony was no older than Peter was right now. 

“What?” Peter asked, seeing Rhodey stare at him with a… look in his eye. Rhodey snapped out of it, and turned back to the coffee. 

“Nothing. You just look like Tony,” Rhodey said, back already to the boy, but he could hear him choke on the hot chocolate. 

five 

Peter had gone suit shopping with Tony about a month and a half before the wedding. He kept insisting that he didn’t need anything fancy, that Ben probably had a suit that would work somewhere, but Tony ignored him. 

“We will get you a nice, tailored suit, and that way you can look snazzy at my wedding, and if you ever need a suit for another event, you have one. A traditional black suit should do just fine. Plain enough so as to not be too flashy, but classic and sleek that doesn’t make you seem too old.” 

They spent a good portion of that day laughing as Peter tried on an array of suits. Some were just plain suits of different fits and slightly different details, like Peter and Tony discussed, but others, like a baby blue suit a la Troy Bolton in High School Musical Three, was for Peter’s own amusement. For once he ignored the weird, odd looks he got when he was with Tony, and enjoyed his afternoon suit shopping. 

They left the store with Peter’s suit in hand, ready to be taken to be altered, and Tony threw an arm around the boy as they approached Happy’s car.

“You know, the suit might be the most classy thing I’ve ever seen you wear, Pete,” Tony said, and Peter smiled. 

“The things I do for you,” He responded, only to reveal that he was wearing a shirt that said “molecool’ with a drawing of a molecule with sunglasses drawn over it. Tony just groaned, but kept smiling anyway. 

plus one

Three months (but also five years) after that day, Peter was wearing that exact suit at Tony Stark’s funeral. Rhodey’s hand was planted on his shoulder, May was squeezing his other hand, but all he could feel was the phantom of Tony Stark as he relived the memory of Tony adjusting Peter’s cufflinks and smiling at the boy in the mirror of that suit store dressing room, telling him that he looked very grown up in such a nice suit. 

“Very handsome, I would even say. This suit will definitely come in handy for you in the future, Parker, just count on it,” was all Peter could hear as the arc reactor was lowered into the water, forever releasing Tony Stark from the rest of the world.

masterlist

[flipmeforward]

fic: I’d marry you with paper rings (Nando/Quinn, NC-17)

Man, I don’t even know. I’m maybe writing a fic that’s forced slow burn, and I needed to write something light and easy. Mel’s Cricket Series has brought me so much joy and happiness during this weird and crappy spring, and when I read this post, I was like, yes, let’s write my obligatory crossdressing fic that i apparently write for every ship i ever write for, and this thing just ... happened. 

@poindextears​, thank you for letting me take your characters and have my wicked way with them. Also, I’m sorry. 

Here’s this thing on ao3. 

Nando would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit worried about the way Quinn has been behaving today. He’s not sure anyone else has picked up on it, but then again, no one else spends as much time as close to Quinn as Nando does. He doesn’t really know how to explain it, but if he had to, he thinks he’d describe Quinn as skittish today. He hasn’t shied away from Nando’s touch, really, but he has tensed up slightly every time Nando’s hand has reached below, like, shoulder level. It’s weird, Nando doesn’t like it.

Something about the check in at the hotel is taking longer than usual. Everyone else has already been sent off to their rooms, but Quinn is still talking with the guy behind the desk. He has to stand on his toes to properly reach up and it probably shouldn’t be as adorable as it is, but it’s not like Nando makes the rules. His boyfriend is adorable, that’s just the way it is. And, finally, his boyfriend is done being Team Manager. Nando sincerely hopes everyone will behave tonight, so he can have Quinn as his Boyfriend until they wake up tomorrow. He grabs their bags and starts heading along the corridor everyone else had gone into, but Quinn’s voice stops him.

“Sebastián. This way.” Nando turns around, and Quinn is standing by another corridor, reaching out a hand. Nando is confused, but where Quinn goes, he follows, so he walks over and takes his hand.

“Where are we going?” he asks as they head down the corridor towards an elevator.

“To our room, of course,” Quinn says, then starts humming a song Nando doesn’t recognize. Nando sighs, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. He’s learned a lot during his almost-four years at Samwell, and one of those things is when it’s just completely useless to try to get Quinn to talk when he doesn’t want to.

They take the elevator to the fourth floor, then Quinn leads them through corridors and around corners. There is no way Nando will be able to find his way out of here alone. He squeezes Quinn’s hand. Good thing he won’t have to.

Finally, Quinn stops in front of a door at the end of a hallway and taps the keycard against the lock. The door beeps, lets them in, and Nando barely has time to drop their bags on the floor before Quinn is on him, kissing him like they’ve been apart for weeks. Nando responds in kind, but he barely has time to put his hands on Quinn’s waist before Quinn pulls away.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. Nando looks at him, surprised. He doesn’t bother pointing out that it’s pretty useless to take a shower before they have sex, because Quinn knows that as well as he does. But, if Quinn is taking a shower now, that might mean he’s not up for sex, but that’s also weird, because between the two of them, Nando is usually the one who begs off. Not that it happens often (because hello), but when it does, it’s usually Nando.

That doesn’t mean he won’t respect Quinn’s wishes, though, of course he won’t try to talk Quinn into having sex with him. “Okay,” he says, and if he wasn’t already pressed against the door, he would take a step back. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. Quinn reaches up to press a kiss to his jaw, then grabs his bag and locks himself in the bathroom. Nando stands by the door for a few seconds, confused by what just happened, before he grabs his own bag and moves further into the room.

There’s a double bed, which is standard for the two of them nowadays (Nando loves that he’s dating the team manager), a desk, a tv. Standard room. He drops his bag and starts to pull off his clothes, preparing for bed. It’s quick work, then he grabs the tv remote from the desk and lies down on the bed. He kicks the bedspread down and then starts to channel surf, with the sound of Quinn’s shower in the background.

A few minutes later, he hears Quinn coming out of the bathroom. Nando moves to grab his toiletry bag, his attention mostly on the tv, but he flicks one glance at Quinn and freezes.

“Uhm,” Nando says, then swallows. Quinn, his outrageously hot boyfriend, the love of his life, is standing in front of him wearing nothing but a sweatshirt. Nando’s sweatshirt. It’s a navy blue soft-washed thing that Nando barely recognizes, he hasn’t used it in a long while, which means Quinn probably dug through his closet to get it. Nando doesn’t mind, especially when this is the result. The sweatshirt is too big on Quinn, it reaches halfway down his thighs and the arms have been folded up to show his hands. At the neck, the opening is wide and shows Quinn’s collar bone. His hair is ruffled in the way he only allows it to be immediately after a shower, and Nando is going to explode with how much he loves Quinn. Also, he’s going to have to jerk off in the bathroom, because Quinn looking like this does things to Nando.

He takes a breath to steady himself and then stands up. His erection is showing and he knows it, but at least he no longer feels guilty at being turned on by the sight of his boyfriend looking like a wet dream.

“Get back on the bed,” Quinn says in a no bullshit voice. Nando is used to it by now.

“Baby, I just need to—”

“Sebastián. Get back. On the bed,” Quinn repeats, much sharper, and Nando’s dick twitches. He gets back on the bed.

“Are we gonna have sex?” he asks, because he needs to know. Quinn kneels on the bed and stares at him.

“Of course we’re going to have sex,” he says. “Did you think we weren’t?”

Nando shrugs. “I mean ...” he waves a hand towards the bathroom. Quinn rolls his eyes and crawls towards him.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, but the tone of his voice makes it sound like I love you.

Nando settles back on the bed and drags Quinn towards him, onto his lap. “I’m your idiot, though,” he says, wrapping his arms around Quinn’s waist and pressing his face into the curve of Quinn’s neck. He smells like soap, and his skin is still slightly damp from the shower, and Nando loves him so much. “I love you,” he says, because he needs to. He doesn’t need to see Quinn’s face to know he’s smiling.

“I love you, too,” Quinn says, and then he grinds down on Nando’s lap, reminding him that while his boyfriend is the sweetest man he’s ever met, he’s also a sexual deviant who’s going to break Nando one of these days, honestly. “Not having sex,” Quinn continues under his breath as he settles into a much-too slow rhythm. “As if. I even flirted with the reception staff to get us a room without anyone next door.”

“Baby,” Nando groans, equal parts impressed and jealous. Given the chance, Quinn is loud during sex, and between the Haus and Quinn’s dorm, there aren’t many chances. They didn’t even realize just how much being loud was a thing until this past summer, when they’d spent hours in Nando’s childhood bed, both sisters and Mama out of the house. Nando’s dick twitches just at the thought of Quinn not having to hold back anything tonight. If he’d had any lingering tiredness in him after the game, it’s fully and thoroughly gone by now.

He slides his hands from Quinn’s waist, down under the sweatshirt to grab his ass, but stops when his fingers don’t meet the soft cotton or bare skin he’s expecting. He lifts the hem of the shirt to get a look and holy fucking fuck Nando is going to die, and when his Mama finds out the cause of death she’s going to revive him only to kill him again, but it will be worth it.

Quinn, his beautiful, sexy, adorable Quinn, is sitting on his lap, draped in Nando’s sweater, and lace panties. They’re a dark, rich purple, contrasting beautifully to Quinn’s winter pale skin, and Nando doesn’t know what to do. He wants to look at Quinn forever but he also wants to put his hands and his mouth all over him and worship him. Also fuck him.

“Is this—okay?” Quinn asks, suddenly unsure when Nando is having a minor breakdown. It makes Nando pull himself together, a little bit, enough to realize that there is no way he can let Quinn be even the tiniest bit unsure if Nando likes this or not. He moves his hands up to cup Quinn’s face and kisses him, trying to put everything into it. They usually discuss it at least twice before they bring anything new into bed, but Quinn hasn’t said a word about this, so Nando gets why he’s worried, but Nando also has absolutely no complaints whatsoever. And it’s not like it’s a completely new thing, Nando hasn’t exactly been discreet when they prep for Rhodey’s shows, but they still haven’t discussed it, not in this context. So yeah, Nando gets why Quinn might be worried, so he really, really tries to convey with his kiss how much he absolutely doesn’t mind, how much he loves it, how turned on he is just by the short glimpse he caught. Which—Nando should do something about that. He needs to see.

“Wha—Sebastián!” Quinn yelps as Nando grabs him at the waist again and flips him over, onto his back. He straddles Quinn’s thighs and pushes the sweatshirt halfway up his stomach, and then he just—looks. It’s maybe the best thing Nando has seen in his entire life. Quinn is hard, and some part of Nando will probably never get over the fact that he brings out this reaction in Quinn.

Nando drags a hand down Quinn’s stomach, lets his fingers ghost feather light over Quinn’s cock, over the lace.

“Say something,” Quinn says finally, and Nando realizes that he hasn’t, in fact, said anything for several minutes.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, stroking his palm over Quinn’s cock, feeling it twitch against him. “Quinn, baby, you—you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Nando says, and Quinn blushes. “I love you so much,” he says, again, because he has to. He rubs harder against Quinn, and Quinn responds by arching up against his hand and letting his head fall back, exposing his neck. Nando leans forward and presses a kiss against the flushed skin, then opens his mouth and sucks a mark there. It’s winter, Quinn wears scarfs all the time anyway. Quinn moans, and Nando can’t help but preen a little. He is the cause of that moan.

Nando’s own dick is rock hard in his boxers, and he groans when his hips jerk down on their own accord, making him grind against Quinn’s thigh.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, because seriously, Nando wants everything right now, he can’t decide, Quinn’s going to have to call the shots here. Quinn’s hands clench where he’s gripping Nando’s sides, and he draws in a sharp breath.

“You—your mouth, please,” Quinn says, almost whines.

“Yeah?” Nando works his way up Quinn’s neck with kisses, then finally reaches his mouth and kisses him properly. “You want me to suck you off?”

“Yes, fuck,” Quinn breathes out against Nando’s mouth, and okay, if Quinn’s already cursing, this won’t take long.

Well. It won’t take long the first time.

Nando kisses Quinn for another couple of seconds before he tears himself away and crawls down the bed again. Quinn is still wearing the sweatshirt, and Nando is in no hurry to take it off him, he loves seeing Quinn in his clothes.

He also loves seeing Quinn in lace panties, which was not something Nando expected to learn about himself, but he’s not sorry at all about that revelation. Quinn’s cock is straining against the purple lace, and it must be a boy model, because there seems to be more room for that than what Nando would’ve expected. He wonders if Quinn bought them the last time he was in Boston, or if he ordered them online, if he has more, and which colors, and—God, Nando is about to die.

He knows they will talk about this, later, so for now, he just bends down and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Quinn’s cock. Quinn draws a sharp breath, and when Nando glances to the side, he sees that his hands are gripping the sheets. Nando would absolutely love to drag this out for hours, but he’s too turned on, Quinn is too turned on, they actually need to sleep at some point, so in what should be considered an act of mercy, Nando pulls the front of the panties down enough to get Quinn’s cock out, then takes half of it in his mouth in one go.

“Fuck,” Quinn shouts, as if it’s been punched out of him. This is why they take advantage of hotel rooms.

Nando smiles, sinks further down, takes more of him in his mouth. After three years, he likes to consider himself an expert on sucking (Quinn’s) cock, and he really, really likes doing it. He loves the feeling of Quinn’s cock in his mouth, loves that he can render Quinn into this whimpering mess with just his mouth, loves that he can glance up and watch his reaction, loves when Quinn sometimes tangles his fingers in Nando’s curls and presses him down, never forcefully, but enough that Nando gets the hint. He even likes the taste, which wasn’t something he expected, but sure does make things a lot easier.

He likes it even more when Quinn is not fresh from the shower, like when they meet up after Quinn has had an intensive dance rehearsal. He hasn’t dared to say that out loud yet, though.

When Nando pulls off to breathe, Quinn whines. It’s such a difference from his normal, composed self, and Nando feels privileged that he gets to see it, gets to draw it out of him. He has to reach down and stroke himself a couple of times, just to take the worst of the edge off, and for the briefest of moments, he’s tempted to just kneel and jerk off until he comes all over Quinn. It passes when he takes Quinn’s cock back in his mouth. He swallows around him, takes more of him, and Quinn groans.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Quinn pants, and Nando smiles around him. He slides his hands down Quinn’s thighs, grabs him behind the knees and pulls his legs up to rest on Nando’s shoulders. It gives him better access to grab Quinn’s ass, to run his palms over the lace there, and Quinn moans, jerks his hips up to fuck into Nando’s mouth.

It takes just another few seconds of enthusiastic sucking from Nando before Quinn’s hand settles on his neck, a sure sign that he’s close. Nando sucks harder, runs his tongue up the length, squeezes Quinn’s ass again, and that’s enough. Quinn grabs his neck harder, a warning, and Nando has no plans to pull off but appreciates it anyway, swallows easily as Quinn comes in his mouth, all while Quinn keeps up a steady stream of fuck and oh god.

He pulls off when Quinn tugs at the curls at the back of his neck and looks up to grin at him. He presses a kiss to the inside of Quinn’s thigh before he crawls up again, hovering over Quinn, covering him, as he bends down to kiss him.

Quinn kisses him back lazily, licks into his mouth, licks the taste of himself out of Nando’s mouth, and it probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

They stay like that for a while, but despite Nando’s fairly rigorous training routine, he still can’t hold himself up on his arms like this for long. He swings one leg over Quinn so he can kneel beside him, kisses Quinn one more time, then gets off the bed to grab the lube.

During their first spring together, when they started getting intimate, they’d gone to the student health center for STI testing. They’d both been clean, not that Nando hadn’t expected anything else, but his Mama didn’t raise no fool. They still use condoms sometimes, because cleanup is easier, but after some experimenting, they’d found they both enjoy the sloppy, filthy part of it. So Nando grabs the lube, no condom, and gets back on the bed.

“Flip over,” he says and takes off his underwear, Quinn doesn’t obey, instead he kneels on the bed and brings his arms up around Nando’s neck and angles his face up to kiss him. Nando wraps his arms around him and drags him closer, settles one hand on his ass and cups Quinn’s head with the other.

Quinn’s crotch rubs against Nando’s thigh, and his dick is still hanging out. It looks a tiny bit silly, but feels incredibly sexy, and Nando is so, so glad that multiple orgasms come easy for his boyfriend. It allows for situations like these, where he can suck him off and then fuck him, and it’s—amazing.

Nando moves his hand a little, puts his fingers against the crack of Quinn’s ass, presses gently against the lace, and—He draws a sharp breath and looks down at Quinn.

“Baby,” he says, unsure, and Quinn’s shy smile is answer enough. Nando is going to die. “Did you—Have you—All day?” Nando asks, incapable of complete sentences. Quinn nods. Him shying away from Nando’s touches all day suddenly makes sense. Nando quickly thinks through what they’ve been doing today and groans, then presses harder against the base of the plug that Quinn has had in his ass all fucking day. Through breakfast, the bus ride, the game, everything.

“How are you even real?” Nando asks and moves his hands so they’re inside the panties instead. He doesn’t allow Quinn to answer, kisses him instead, grabs the base of the plug and twists it.

Nando is ... well equipped. Quinn loves it, so it’s not an issue or anything, but it does require some preparation. Butt plugs aren’t a new thing for them, and Quinn has worn them for a longer period before, but during those times, they’ve both been in on it, and it’s been low-stakes situations like just hanging around campus or maybe during a home game. He’s never had one in for this long, in secret, while just going around his business.

“Sebastián,” Quinn moans, getting impatient. “Please, just—”

“Okay, baby,” Nando murmurs, pressing another kiss to his lips before looking over Quinn’s shoulder, down his back, to where his hands are straining against the lace, pressed against Quinn’s ass. “God,” Nando breathes. He pulls down the waistband of the panties, settling it just below the curve of Quinn’s ass. When Quinn makes a motion as if to pull them off, Nando grips his ass harder. “No,” he says. “Leave them on.”

Quinn gives him a dirty smile, as if he isn’t the one wearing lingerie. Nando smacks his ass, once, and Quinn gasps and goes absolutely still. They rarely do that, because Nando isn’t really a fan, but Quinn loves it. Nando takes advantage of Quinn’s stillness to reach for the lube, then sucks another mark on his neck as he gives him another smack.

“Fuck,” Quinn moans, pressing against him, trying to get impossibly closer. “Baby, please.”

Nando presses soothing kisses against the mark he just made, simultaneously uncapping the lube and coating the fingers on one hand. With the other, he gently drags the plug out of Quinn’s ass. Quinn moans, and Nando kisses him, swallows the sound, even though he doesn’t really have to, here, in this room. He presses two fingers in, easily thanks to the plug, and god, Nando hopes he never gets used to this, never takes this for granted.

He adds another finger, and it’s only thanks to the fact that he’s so much bigger than Quinn that this position is even possible. He can’t actually fuck him in this position, though. Nando pushes Quinn away, gently, but can’t decide which way he wants him. Quinn on his back means he can keep the panties on, but Nando sort of wants to see his face.

Quinn, as always, seems to read the dilemma on his face. “I can wear them again,” he says, gently, as if that statement doesn’t break Nando’s brain. At least it helps him make up his mind.

“On your back,” he says, and Quinn grins at him as he obeys. He finally gets to take his underwear off, throws them carelessly onto the floor, spreads his legs.

Nando grabs the bottle of lube and moves to kneel between Quinn’s legs, again. It’s definitely one of his favorite places in the world. He lubes his dick, quickly, adds more lube to his fingers to press into Quinn with a couple of fast pumps. Lining up his cock with Quinn’s hole, he meets Quinn’s gaze, raises an eyebrow in silent question and gets a nod in return. Nando starts to push in, slowly. This part is always the hardest (hah), because there’s no getting around that Nando is big and Quinn is small and no matter how many times they do this, it’s not like his ass will stretch. Not that Nando would want it to, because this feels so good, but it wouldn’t exactly hurt if they could do it a little bit faster sometimes.

A minute later, Nando is fully inside of Quinn, and leans down to kiss him. He pauses there, waits patiently until Quinn moves his hips a little, fucking himself onto Nando’s cock. That’s when Nando moves back to kneeling between his legs, carefully pulling out almost all the way before pushing in again.

Quinn is still wearing the fucking sweatshirt, and if Nando’s brain wasn’t already broken, it would definitely break at the sight of him like this, with his head thrown back, throat exposed, one hand around his cock and the other clenched in the sheets until Nando reaches for it and tangles their fingers together. It’s such a soft gesture, feels at odds with what they’re currently doing, but it also feels right.

Little by little, Nando increases his pace, until he has to let go of Quinn’s hand and grab his hips to keep them steady. Quinn has his legs wrapped around Nando’s waist, his heels digging into Nando’s ass, and it’s—perfect. It’s perfect, perfect, perfect, Nando is so happy, lucky, turned on, in love, he’s going to explode.

He slips during a thrust, just a little, but enough to change the angle, and Quinn’s responding moan is obscenely loud.

“Fuck, oh my god, honey, god, keep—there, please,” he moans, begs, and Nando does his best to keep fucking him from the slightly different angle. He’s close, he has been close since Quinn got out of the bathroom dressed like that, and it’s not going to take a lot more for him to—

“Quinn, baby, I’m—,” he stutters, past being able to make sense, but Quinn gets it, of course he gets it. He clenches around Nando’s cock, jerks himself faster, brings his other hand down to stroke his balls. His fingertips brush against Nando’s dick and it’s like his fingers are made of electricity, the tiny touch sparks something deep inside of Nando and he just, it feels like he just combusts from within.

Nando is pretty sure his brain leaves him for a moment, because when he comes back to himself, he’s laying on top of Quinn, his face pressed against Quinn’s neck, his cock still inside him, and his breaths coming in heaving gasps. “Fucking hell,” he pants, and feels more than hears Quinn’s responding weak chuckle. He feels Quinn’s heavy breaths, feels his come sticking to his stomach and seeping into the sweater, feels the satisfaction that settles on both of them.

Quinn drags his hands out from between them and settles them on Nando’s back instead, and Nando doesn’t care that they’re sticky, he needs a shower anyway. Quinn does, too.

“I love you,” Nando says, turning his head to kiss Quinn, slow and indulgent, before he kneels up again to pull out.

“I, ah, I love you, too,” Quinn replies, grimacing a little.

“Sorry,” Nando whispers, but Quinn just smiles back at him. It’s par for the course, and it’s worth it.

Nando lies down beside Quinn and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. “Thank you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Quinn’s mouth, then another.

“For what?”

Nando shrugs. “For getting us this room. For being awesome. For ...” He trails off, glances quickly towards where Quinn threw the panties earlier, and Quinn grins, understanding.

“I take it you like them?” he says, aiming for innocence and failing completely.

“I love them. I love you,” Nando says, and he doesn’t even know how many times he’s said it tonight, but it can’t be too many because there’s no such thing. He grabs Quinn and rearranges them until Quinn is laying on top of him. Nando strokes his back through the sweater, slowly moves his hand further down until he’s cupping Quinn’s ass. He presses his fingers gently against Quinn’s hole, sticky with lube and Nando’s come, and can’t help but smile when Quinn hisses.

“Sebastián. I’m too tired,” he says, and Nando kisses the part of him closest to his mouth, which happens to be the top of Quinn’s ear.

“I know,” he says. He isn’t aiming for a third round, he just can never help himself with this, dreams of a day when he gets to just lay Quinn out on a bed and see how many orgasms he can give him, what Quinn will sound like at the end, how he will look, and okay, Nando needs to stop right now before he does want a third round. “I can’t wait until we get to do this every day,” he says, a smile on his face like there always is when he thinks about them living together.

“Every day?” Quinn replies, and Nando hears his smirk. “Sounds optimistic.”

“Oh shut up,” Nando says, pressing two fingers inside of Quinn just to spite him. “You know it will happen, at least in the beginning.”

“True,” Quinn concedes, obviously torn between tearing himself away from Nando’s teasing and just giving into it. Nando makes the decision for him, because they do really have to sleep. He drags his fingers out, wipes them on the sweater and then gently pushes Quinn off of him.

“I need to shower,” he says, stepping down onto the floor and holding out a hand to Quinn. “Wanna join?”

“Why yes, Mr Hernandez,” Quinn says, taking his hand. “I’d love to.”

Nando loves him so fucking much.

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 10

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Important A/N at end. Short, but we get to see Rhodey!

Uncle Rhodey visited today.

You don't actually call him that- you're old enough now where, if you started, it definitely would be less endearing and a bit weird, but nowadays it was always either Rhodey or Jimmy. Besides, it's even weirder considering you're technically almost 30, so there's that. Of course, back then though, there were moments when you slipped up, much to your embarrassment and his amusement. 

You'd either be sleep-deprived or distracted most of the time. Mumbling a tired 'Hey Uncle Rhodey' and not noticing the grin on the faces of whoever was in the room with the two of you. It didn't happen often- maybe once every other blue moon- but it happened nonetheless.

But despite being literal years since you've called him that, this was one of those moments where you just couldn't help yourself.

"What's up squirt? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

(Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Fast. Oh God, why was he falling so fast?

"Uh, little," there's a strained grunt, "Little help here? I'm- I'm flying dead stick...!")

"Uncle Rhodey..."

Right in front of you stood Rhodey, who grins at you with underlying concern in his eyes. He looks good, no matter how much shit you always gave him for wearing polo shirts. Definitely less aged, too... Not as tired. There's a pep in his step you forgot he had as he moves in to give you a hug. 

("Rhodes!" Your ears strain as your dad yells into the commlink, though that was nearly drowned out by the drum of your heart thundering in your chest. High in the sky, you take to an instant nose dive and descend.

With each pulse, Rhodey's only falling and falling and falling, and he's not slowing down any time soon. He doesn't respond to your dad. Faint sounds of what may be him losing his breath make you scream out for him too.

You're opposite of Tony as you both try and catch up with the suit. In the corner of your eyes, you see Falcon diving down too. Mother fucker.

You fall and fall, and so does Rhodey. 

The distance between you and Rhodey gets closer and closer, but so does the distance between Rhodey and the ground. It's a race, you bitterly thought in hindsight. You vs. Tony vs. Wilson.

Only Rhodey wins first place.)

You knew it's been years since his fall. But even then, every time you looked at Rhodey, flashes of a falling metal suit lingers in the back of your head. The pounding in your head only gets worse when Rhodey's standing in front of you without leg braces on.

"Aw, guessed someone missed his uncle, huh?"

You know he's just teasing you, but God did you want to tell him how absolutely true he was. 

(You ignore DAHLIA's concerned whisper of 'elevated stress above normal parameters.')

Wordlessly, you hug him maybe a bit tighter than you normally would. You try to find the words to reply back, something snarky ("This 'squirt' can give you the smackdown of your life, Jimmy."), maybe even something honest ("Yeah, I did. I missed you. Fuck, I missed you so much."). Just anything would do, but the flashes of a human-sized crater with a red suit hovering over makes you want to hurl, so you just kept your mouth shut and buried your head in his shoulder. You feel him pat your head gently.

(The thud echoes in your ears. 

You're, what? Maybe 70 feet above him?

But yet you heard that thud as if you were dead center of the crater.

Time slows down to forever as you finally touch down and sprint over to your dad, ignoring Wilson's approaching figure.

Tony nods at you ("Rhodes is in critical condition, ambulance ETA 5 minutes...", says DAHLIA), but he says nothing as Wilson mutters an apology. Dad's fuming, and quite frankly, so are you.

You stalked over to him and socked Wilson right in the jaw, gauntlet still on, and took no shame in the satisfaction you felt as you watch him get knocked back a good distance. It's even better when he doesn't get up.

Good. 

As much as Rhodey would admonish you for your train of thought, you'd have no trouble forgiving Wilson if he was the one lying unconscious in the crater instead.)

"Oh yeah, did I not tell you?" You let go of Rhodey but keep in close proximity to him as your dad strides in holding a StarkPad. He greets you with a kiss to the cheek, and you weakly push him away with shaking hands. You pray no one notices your short breath and sweaty palms. He chuckles and stands next to Rhodey, who's already got an exasperated but amused smile as he looks at Tony.

"Rhodey-bear's got military leave- what was it, 2 weeks?"

"3, actually. For a so-called genius, you sure do suck at getting information right."

You stand there, still uncharacteristically silent as you watch them banter. They start walking but you stayed back, watching them strut out of the room as if no one else existed.

You didn't follow them as everything around you blurred; all except for Rhodey's legs. Legs that weren't being supported by a pair of Stark leg prosthetic. Legs that hadn't been completely detached of all feeling and movement from the waist down.

Legs that were still healthy.

You haphazardly leaned against the wall and tried to focus on the floor as the walls wobble around you. The pounding in your head is practically tearing your skull apart.

(The file haunts you.

You gaze at the hologram floating in front of you, and you desperately try to look elsewhere.

There are pictures of potted plants adorning the files. There's a bunch, and none of them really correlate with one another. There's also a series of pictures, remnants of an explosion and ashes of what used to be a pot sprinkled in there too. There are ones of humans- people you don't recognize save for a few. And again, there's also pictures of an explosion, black ashes covering walls with no remains next to them.

Your finger itches to reach out and open the file further, damn near desperate to do anything to rectify what happened to Rhodey. It burns in your soul, knowing that a solution was just this close to you, so damn near close, yet so far away.

You didn't need to open this file if none of this happened. If Rhodey hadn't been paralyzed from the fall. Rage seeps into your fingers as you grip the table painfully, knuckles white.

If only Romanoff wasn't so prone to Roger's baby blues and knew how to keep to aside. If only Rogers had just signed the damn Accords. If only Maximoff could just get it through her thick skull Tony only wanted to keep her safe from the public.

If only Barton just kept his head down and stayed in retirement. If only Wilson didn't dodge, damned what'd have happened to him.

If only...

(If only you had been faster.)

A scream erupts deep within you as you swipe everything off of your table. You slam your fist into the table repeatedly, not noticing the red smearing, the searing pain, or FRIDAY and DAHLIA's concerned voices as your wails drown the world out.

You don't notice how Pepper abruptly shows up to your lab, disheveled in her pajamas and hugging you from behind tight. You don't notice how she managed to bypass your blackout mode and how the glass window panes clear up again. You don't notice the wetness seeping into your back, or the slight shake of her trembling hands.

You don't notice how you stopped screaming and started shaking, sobbing into your mother's shoulder as she whispered nothing short of comforting words in your ears. 

You don't even notice Rhodey's gaze as he arrives, unsteady in his leg braces, looking at you and Pepper with a haunted, condemned expression.)

You jolted out of your thoughts as your dad calls out to you from down the hallway. You try to steady your voice, but with each sharp intake, it's not as easy as said.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, uh- comin'! Coming..."

Ignoring your shaking hands, you jog over to where they are, pushing and repressing those memories back deep into the corners of your mind. That's a whole can of worms you'd be more than happy to ignore indefinitely.

Now that you think about it, it’s kind of cruel being told that your death was necessary to win a war. Out of millions and millions of possibilities, you had to be taken out of the equation for it to work.

Alone in your lab, you lay placid among your beanbag chairs. It's been a few days since Rhodey's come by to visit, a few days since your sudden migraine that was your flashbacks. Nothing much's happened since then. You hung out with Rhodey, saw glimpses of the other Avengers here and there, but other than that... There wasn't anything that was urgent in your schedule.

And that deeply unsettled you.

Things've been moving at too slow of a pace, and quite frankly, you've only got so much time before the clock ticks to zero. And in hindsight, there was a lot that you had to be prepared for.

There was Project Insight, Ultron, the Accords...

And there were the individual people themselves you had to worry about. The twins, T'Challa and T'Chaka- along with Wakanda as a whole-, Peter, Strange, Danvers...

You already feel a dull thumping on your forehead just thinking about it all, and you didn't even mention everyone else.

Slowly getting up from your beanbag chair, you trudged to your main seat and rolled over to your tables. It's a mess; there are papers strewn about, some having to do with starting your senior year in high school, others are of mission reports. There are even stupid little sticky note doodles while you were procrastination once; a testament to how much time you've got, and how much of it was spent wasted.

You pushed all of them out of the way in one sweep, uncaring if any of it fell on the floor. 

"J.A.R.V.I.S., blackout mode."

“Of course, young sir.”

The window panels darken, and J.A.R.V.I.S.’ voice quiets. The accent lights in the corners of your lab change from a calming pale blue to a neutral white, an indicator you’ve set up within the past few days. It helps tell you which A.I. is currently in the room. You know that if J.A.R.V.I.S. knew, he wouldn't say anything to anyone else (particularly your dad) about DAHLIA, but just in case.

Eventually, you’ll introduce the two sometime. DAHLIA says she doesn’t care if she meets J.A.R.V.I.S. or not, so you pretend not to notice how much lighter her voice is every time you mention her ‘uncle’ of sorts.

"DAHLIA, you up?”

It was satisfying to watch the neutral white LED lights blink into lime green. It means ‘new beginnings’, or so DAHLIA says. It’s nice in a way- that was the same color you had assigned to her in the future, too. Only this time it was by her own virtue.

”I can't remember a time where I wasn't.”

You rolled your eyes.

The sass.

"You, start up a new project and title it 'Renaissance'. I think now's the time to kick it into high gear."

The holograms around you flicker back to life, a soft green illuminating everything in your sight. A distinct folder pops up with the right title and opens up to a blank file. You’re almost buzzing in your seat as you began creating and titling new documents.

”Sure thing, doll. Anything you want me to start beforehand?"

You pause.

There were lots of things you needed to get done first before you even thought about doing anything else. There were people to recruit, a whole nation you needed to get in contact with, and the drafts of the Accords to be written.

But, for now, you’ll start small.

"Yeah- I, uh, need you to start a global search for someone.”

She hums, and in the corner of your eyes, you see a new file pop up. There’s a rendering of the globe with millions of dots littering the countries visible to you- there are even ones around the planet as well. Cameras and available satellites, you realize.

Atta girl.

”Their name?"

A pair of blank steel blue eyes flash in your mind. Once did anger bubble in your throat when you saw them, but now only pity is what's left in you as you recognize nothing but emptiness behind his eyes. While this was for the greater good that he was found as soon as possible, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't also for the man himself.

The sooner you get to him, the sooner he gets the proper help he deserves.

Reeling yourself back in, you promptly ignored your shaking hands and the flashes of a gleaming arm wrapping itself around your throat, eyes cold and uncaring.

”James Buchanan Barnes.”

A/N: This chapter is the final chapter of the first 'arc', so I've decided. There is a high chance that this story will not be canon complicit from now on. (Also, this chapter is shorter compared to the last chapter, and not as high quality- for that, I'm relatively sorry, but not really.)

Word of warning, we might also get more Team Cap critical (as shown in this chapter), but I promise if that's the case, I'll try not to make it a reoccurring theme in this story. 'Resentment is corrosive, and I (live for it) hate it.' - T.S.

I'm planning on bumping up the speed at which the story is progressing- like, fast. My plan is that the next arc (10 canon chapters, maybe some special chapters) we'll deal with CA:TWS, AOU, and maybe CA:CW all in one go if I go with my current plans for AOU. (That also means each chapter will be significantly longer, too.) 

And as for the romance- I'll also try to include more scenes that aren't as subtle as hell (like the one with Steve and Thor before the last chapter). We'll see what goes on beyond that as we progress. Feel free to leave any suggestions as to how the plot should progress (or even suggestions for the romantic scenes lol). :)

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit

[wiener-soldiers]

operation omega - naked (iii)

summary: years after the avengers dismantle HYDRA, the group remerges more dangerous than ever. their modus operandi? infiltrating foreign governments, stealing and reproducing their weapons, and selling them to terrorist groups. when the us government approaches the avengers for help on a secret operation with a secret asset, they are reluctant to agree. it isn’t until their quinjet almost gets shot down in the middle of nowhere when the understand that omega means business.

pairing: bucky barnes x SEAL!reader

words: 2.5k

warnings: mild sexual tension, they’re kinda all naked

a/n: this is still exposition haha. also i barely edited this

taglist: add yourself here!

OPERATION OMEGA MASTERLIST

Omega, Bucky quickly learned, was nothing like the Avengers.

They weren’t independent, rather they were the collective asset of the allied nations.

They weren’t public figures, rather nearly no one knew they existed except for the people who can directly order them to go on missions.

They didn’t really have private lives; they were stationed at their base for months on end and were only allowed back home for a few weeks at a time.

And most noticeably, they weren’t superheroes, but they were badasses.

Omega had ex-Navy SEALs, Green Berets, Delta Force, CIA, and Air Force. Everyone on the Avengers, including the enhanced, were pretty intimidated by the lineup.

Bucky also noticed how they were all much more like a family. Not like the Avengers-dysfunctional-type family, but one that actually cares. He notices that despite prepping for missions, they still have happy hour on Friday night, movie night on Saturday night, and they actually enjoy training with one another.

One minor thing Bucky also noticed is how little clothes they all wear.

He honestly shouldn’t be that surprised. Though being in army camps seemed like a lifetime ago, something about the atmosphere screamed the lack of necessity for shirts.

And honestly, who wouldn’t want to show off how fit they all were?

The first instance he realized this fact was when he was in the medical wing to get his physical. Captain Y/N insisted that all the Avengers go in for a physical exam done by their in-house doctor, Dr. Marge Dean—who also happened to be an ex-Green Beret and CIA operative—just in case there were health issues that needed to be fixed before they went in the field.

Bucky’s appointment with Dr. Dean was scheduled for noon, but he got there five minutes before. Knocking softly on the door, a soft female voice said, “It’s open” before he pushed his way inside.

Dr. Marge Dean wasn’t alone in the room. Sergeant Dominick Stone, ex-Air Force pilot, was also there. He sat on the exam table across from Dr. Marge with his right hand heavily wrapped. The duo looked up at him and offered him a smile. He tries to ignore the fact that Dr. Marge was wearing nothing but short track shorts and a sports bra and Dominick was wearing nothing but boxers. If they’re comfortable with each other, then it can’t be that bad, Bucky tells himself.

“Afternoon. Doc, Sergeant,” Bucky nods at both of them, returning a smile.

“Please, James. Call me Marge,” Marge tells him softly as she finishes wrapping Dominick’s hand. “My abuella’s a doctor. I grew up with everyone calling her Doc, I guess I just haven’t gotten used to people calling people me that yet either,” she giggles softly.

Bucky smiles at her, “Marge it is.”

“I would shake your hand,” Dominick says as he hops off the exam table and waves his bandaged hand in the air, “but it’s a little hard right now.”

Bucky chuckles, “Don’t worry about it, Sarge. What happened?”

Dominick sighs and Marge chuckles as she cleans her equipment, prepping for Bucky’s physical exam. “It’s stupid,” the Sergeant sighs.

“Oh come on,” Marge starts, “I think it’s funny, Sarge.”

Dominick sighs, “I was sharpening my knife and I accidentally cut my hand really deeply.”

“A combat knife?” Bucky asks curiously.

Dominick sighs, “A kitchen knife.”

Marge bursts into another fit of giggle before patting the exam table, signalling to Bucky that she’s ready to start his exam. “Dom’s Ma is from Ghana. The first time we went home for our break, his Ma gave him the family fried rice recipe. He makes it for us every week,” Marge starts as she starts Bucky’s physical. He surprised at how calm she acts around his metal arm; whether it’s a telltale sign of a good doctor or a good person, Bucky doesn’t really care—the simple action allow Bucky to trust her.

“I was sharpening the kitchen knives because no one in this damn place will do it—”

“You said you found it relaxing, so we let you do it!”

“And I was distracted for a second and my hand slipped,” Dominick rolled his eyes and gestures to his hand again. “It’s not big deal. No stitches needed; I’ll be good in no time.”

Marge finishes monitoring Bucky’s breathing and moves on to taking his blood pressure. “All those extra bandages are just to make him feel better,” she jokes.

Bucky takes a deep breath, allowing his walls to come down a bit. “Well, Sarge, I’d love to try it sometime,” Bucky says with a smile that reaches his eyes. “Ya know, after your hand has healed an all,” he adds an on, jokingly.

Sergeant Dominick grins, “I go by Dom.”

“Fair enough. I go by Bucky.”

The second instance he realized the unspoken, no-clothes policy was later that week. That morning marked the second week that the Avengers were working with Omega. Slowly, they were fitting in with their new partners. Despite looking crazily similar, Bucky’s hunch that Steve and Jack may want to one-up each other was proven false. Steve and Jack bonded surprisingly fast from their shared interests in history, art, and their war experiences. Wanda got along really well with Dr. Marge as soon as the two girls realized they both had a passion for cooking and baking. Natasha got along with Second Lieutenant Abigail Lee, the resident engineer and ex-Green Beret weapons specialist, as soon as Natasha found out that Abigail loved stand-up specials as much as she did. Clint and Sam got along really well Sergeant John McBueller after drunkenly one night, John taught the two how to salsa the same way his mother taught him how to when he was younger. Tony gets along with the ever-so-clumsy Sergeant Dom because Dom is secretly a nerd about everything about the Iron Man suit and Tony thinks Dom is like a younger version of Rhodey.

The unlikely group of friends found themselves in the kitchen that morning. The ex-military individuals were still used to a waking up early so their training sessions normally takes place before breakfast, whereas the Avengers training sessions normally took place later at night, as the team is full of insomniacs.

Bucky, Steve, Tony, Clint, and Sam sat in the kitchen that morning. Tony was tinkering with a new gadget Bucky couldn’t even begin to comprehend, Steve was hunched over a tablet analyzing reports, Clint was looking over flight logistics, and Sam was switching his attention between sipping his coffee and making breakfast for everyone.

Bucky’s attention was concentrated at the laptop in front of him where he was analyzing old Avengers briefs for HYDRA missions. A fit of chatter take his attention away from the laptop. Salsa-dancing John McBueller and Dr. Marge walked into the kitchen, easy chatter flowing between them. His eyes widened at their wardrobe, John was wearing nothing but grey sweatpants and Marge only sported a sports bra with her leggings, sweat dripping off the both of them.

In comparison, every Avenger was very clothed.

“Morning guys,” John called out, following Marge into the kitchen. Marge busied herself by making a protein shake for her and John, not noticing the stares both her and John were getting.

“Morning…” the Avengers mumbled.

“John you want banana in your shake?” Marge asked, not giving a care in the world.

“Hmm, yeah sure. Also, can you add peanut butter too?” John responses, easily as care-free.

“Are you guys always like this?” Tony asks, baffled at how casual they are.

“What?” Marge and John ask at the same time. Bucky chuckles at his expression.

“This…naked,” Tony says bluntly.

Another loud chuckle is heard down the hall and Dom and Abigail enter the kitchen next. The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirks upwards as soon as Tony’s eyes widen even more. Abigail was wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a flannel to cover up, her hair still wet from the laps she swam in the lake that morning. Unlike John, Dom was wearing a shirt, but his dripping wet swim trunks and open flannel—with nothing on underneath, to add—made his attire barely passible.

“Jesus, is your dress code basically nothing?” Tony remarks. He wasn’t surprised that every member of the Omega team was absolutely shredded. He was used to it in fact, as it usually isn’t surprising for Steve or Bucky or Sam to walk around shirtless. He was just surprised about the bluntness the Omega team had.

“Morning,” Bucky hears a final mumble. The group in the kitchen turns towards the sleepy voice; it was Y/N with Jack trailing into the kitchen behind her. Though he was used to seeing his new teammates so naked, his eyes widened at the sight of her. She wore nothing but pajama shorts and a lacy bralette. Jack shuffled in behind her, wearing nothing but boxers. Jack gently put a green flannel around her shoulders and Y/N mumbled a thanks.

“Sorry we woke up late and missed training. Pulled an all-nighter analyzing more intel and I didn’t realize I missed training,” Y/N mumbles.

“Jesus Christ, you guys are shameless. I dig it,” Tony says, mostly to himself.

Bucky can’t help but feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of Y/N. He normally was fine around naked girls. He was nowhere near the level of confident as he was when he was younger, but we was rarely flustered at the sight of one. He really tried not to stare, but the view of Y/N in nothing but comfy clothes wrapped around a flannel, laughing softly at something someone said over a cup of coffee was something that made Bucky’s stomach flip.

Oh, fuck. She’s so beautiful, Bucky thinks.

Bucky hears a soft chuckle behind him. He tilts his view backwards and sees Wanda (he isn’t exactly sure when she woke up and made her way to the kitchen) smirking at him. His eyes widen, Stop reading my mind, asshole.

Wanda’s smirk only widens.

Early the next morning, Bucky woke in a cold sweat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he looked around the unfamiliar surroundings before he slowly realized that we was in the Omega bunker, not his room at the Avengers’ tower.

Fucking nightmare, he sighs. His metal arms cramps, a symptom of the Phantom Limb Syndrome that he feels every now and then, especially after he has a nightmare. Bucky sighs and glances at the time: 5:11 AM.

He decided that sleep is so far behind him at this point, so Bucky rolls out of bed, pulls on a pair of workout shorts, and trudges out of the room.

As soon as he walks out into the hallway, the goosebumps on his bare bake perk up. Still, Bucky continues trudging towards the kitchen. He starts a pot of coffee and digs around the fridge for some food.

“Bucky?” someone calls out to him, startling him. He tries to lift his head out of the fridge, but he accidentally hits his head.

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing the back of his head.

“Shit!” the voice calls behind him and he feels to warm hands wrap around his neck. “Are you okay?”

Bucky turns around and face Y/N, who’s hands are still on his neck. Bucky can’t help but notice that she’s wearing nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants. He gulps and trains his eyes on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No biggie,” he says weakly.

Y/N smiles softly, letting her hands fall. “What’re you doing up?” she asks softly, side-stepping around him to grab a banana from the counter.

Bucky exhales softly, hoping his breath isn’t shaky. “Nightmare,” he states bluntly, too tired to lie.

Her eyebrow raises, “Oh?”

“It was about, uh…how I lost my arm,” he says quietly, not meeting her eyes. “The dreams, I’m used to. It’s the pain from Phantom Limb Syndrome that usually wakes me up.”

“Biofeedback,” Y/N says simply.

“I’m sorry?”

“Talk to Tony about adding biofeedback and haptics to your metal arm so you can feel touch in that arm again,” Y/N responds, stepping closer to him. She reaches out for Bucky’s metal palm and drags a finger down it. Bucky doesn’t flinch; he knows what the feeling is supposed to feel like but it pains him that he can’t feel it. “I read an article talking about how biofeedback helped some patients overcome their Phantom Limb Syndrome…” she trails off, hoping she didn’t make it awkward.

“Thank you,” Bucky says sincerely, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but the comforting look in her tired eyes say it all, you’re welcome.

Bucky continues to make his coffee and a breakfast omelette while Y/N sits at the island silently, eating her banana and observing him. It was 5:30 AM already, meaning she should have been out the door and starting her run. Instead, she watches how his back muscles contract as he cuts vegetable combined with the soft mechanical whir of his metal arm to create a mesmerizing scene.

Bucky speaks up, snapping her out of her trance, “What about you? What’re you doing up?”

“I normally go on a run right now,” she told him, casting her gaze towards his face. She notices how his unkempt hair dangles in front of his eyes and how she do desperately got the urge to push the hair out of his face to stare into his eyes.

“Don’t let me stop you then,” Bucky jests.

Y/N smiles at him, “Didn’t feel like it today. I like going on runs because it’s calming. Sitting here and watching you cook, it’s also…calming.”

Bucky had nothing to say to that, surprised by her honestly. Y/N is equally as surprised and hopes she didn’t make it weird. Apparently, she hasn’t because moments later, Bucky slides a serving of omelette for her as well.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbles before digging in.

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky replies with kind eyes.

They eat in silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but a perfectly, intentionally quiet one—like if one of them spoke, it would ruin the calming and intimate emotion draped over the kitchen.

They both finish their meals and clean up the dishes. As Bucky is about to round the corner and head back into his room, Y/N calls out, “I would love to run with you, if you want.”

Bucky pauses mid-step and glances back at her, waiting for her to continue.

“There’s this trail that I made when we first moved here. It leads to a beautiful rock formation and a waterfall. I run there every morning,” Y/N gushed out. Bucky fully turned to look at her this time. “You’re welcome to join, if you want.”

Bucky smiles at her.

Bucky got a long really well with Captain Y/N Y/L/N after their quiet morning breakfast and confessions. Waking up to run with her is what make Bucky excited to wake up every morning.