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kathierif_ficTitle: Strangers
by: kathierif_fic
Fandom: MCU/Avengers
Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, no money
Summary: "Don't you think he's the best-looking of the Avengers?" one of them asked, and Steve blushed.
A/Ns: For the "anonymity" square on kink_bingo.
"What is going on?" Steve asked as he stepped closer to the group of people clustered at the corner of the street. If he felt a little uncomfortable talking to a woman dressed in as little as the one he had addressed, he was hiding it well.
The woman barely gave him a second glance. "There were tweets that Captain America has been seen in this neighborhood," she told him excitedly. "Captain America himself, can you imagine?"
Steve could imagine very well. "So...you're waiting for him, then?" he asked. "Why?"
The woman gave him a look that Steve was very familiar with, the you-should-know-the-answer-to-that-look that Tony Stark had perfected. And when he took a second, closer look at the clothes she and her companions wore, it was, in a way, very obvious as to why these people were waiting.
Or maybe he was just being old-fashioned again and this was what they usually wore, a small voice at the back of his mind that sounded like a mix of Bucky and Tony reminded him.
Slowly, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. "So...Captain America, huh?" he said. "Why him? Why not...Iron Man, or Thor, or..."
"Really?" another voice interrupted him, belonging to a young man with wild, dark hair sticking up in every direction. "Dude, it's Captain America! Don't you know he punched Hitler more than two hundred times?"
"It wasn't really Hitler," Steve pointed out.
"That's not the point," the kid replied. "He's, like, the star-spangled man! He single-handedly saved more than seven hundred men, and then, he came back to fight against the alien invasion."
"Have you seen his chest?" This came from yet another woman whose own chest was very exposed.
"His chest?" Steve repeated. He barely managed to fight the instinct to reach up and touch his pectorals, as if that would tell him what was so special about his chest.
"I wouldn't mind getting a shot at that," the first woman sighed. "All those yummy muscles..."
"And those hands, by God, getting those hands on you..." This came from another man, dressed in jeans that were ripped across one knee, sneakers and a faded t-shirt. He was wearing a baseball cap, and his beard was carefully styled to resemble Tony Stark's. His eyes, however, were a light blue and not the warm brown of Iron Man.
A collective sigh greeted those words, followed by speculation about what exactly Captain America looked like underneath the costume.
Steve shifted from one foot to the other, his hand clenching around the strap of his backpack.
"Fact is," the fella with the moustache concluded, "He's a hero, he's smart and kind, the kind of person you want in your corner, and he is hot as hell."
Steve's lips twitched with barely contained amusement. "I'll take your word for it," he said before nodding. "I'm more of a fan of the Iron Man. But still...Good luck."
Slowly, he wandered away.
He was still frowning as he made his way to a little-used side entrance of Tony's Tower. He greeted JARVIS and rode the elevator up to the penthouse.
"Hey," he said as he stepped into the main room. Bruce looked up from the book in his lap, Clint raised a hand to wave at him without turning away from the videogame he was playing with Thor, and Natasha stopped her writing of a mission report just long enough to give him a look and a small nod in greeting.
"Where's Tony?"
"Workshop," Bruce answered. "He came home from his meeting and went straight down."
The elevator chose that moment to arrive with a soft chime, and Tony Stark wandered into the room, dressed in black pants and a white undershirt that didn't do much to cover the glare of the reactor in his chest.
"Who's the hipster?" he asked, his eyes sparkling and his lips stretched into a wide grin. "And who let him into my tower?"
"Dude," Clint replied from the couch. "You invited him yourself. It's not our fault Captain America is an art student at heart."
Steve frowned and looked down.
He was dressed in his usual civvies, khakis and a button-down.
"I'm kidding. You know that, right?" Tony asked as he stepped closer and nudged Steve with his elbow. "How was your drawing class?"
"It was good." Steve shrugged and gripped his backpack a little tighter. His teammates had been very supportive when he'd mentioned that he'd like to get back into art school and maybe even finish with some sort of degree eventually, but he still felt strange talking about it. He was half-afraid that people who were not his team would find out and that it would end up on twitter, as well, and that he had to give his dream up because people would stop by to gawk at him when he wasn't ready to be Cap, when he wanted to be just Steve.
Tony nudged him again, and Steve looked up, just in time to see a hint of blue in one of Tony's eyes.
He frowned, but before he could mention it, Tony had pulled away again and moved back toward the elevator, his attention already back on the project he was working on.
That little twinkle of blue, Steve thought, what could that have been? He didn't know, and he'd never before seen anything like it.
There was one direct way to get information, Steve knew. He had to talk to Tony himself.
~~
Tony was standing in the middle of the workship, in the cleared space that housed his assembing and disassembling robots. He had his back turned toward Steve, and Steve took the opportunity to let his eyes slowly wander down Tony's back, from the tip of his head to the back of his feet.
Steve rapped his knuckles against the glass door, because knocking was something polite people did, and stepped into the workshop as soon as JARVIS opened the door for him.
"Tony?" he asked. Pale blue fabric haphazardly thrown across one of the work spaces caught his attention, and he wandered over to investigate.
"I'm busy, Cap," Tony replied absent-mindedly. He still had his back turned toward Steve and wasn't aware of Steve poking through his things.
"Busy, huh?" Steve repeated and picked up the fabric.
It was a shirt, the text on the front faded with age and too many runs in a washer, the fabric itself soft against Steve's fingertips.
"Yeah, I...what are you doing?" Tony's voice sounded alarmed, snapping sharp. He'd apparently turned around and caught Steve snooping.
Steve dropped the shirt and faced Tony. "There was this thing," he said, taking careful steps toward his teammate. "I wanted to ask you about."
"Yeah?" Tony replied. He swallowed thickly, but he didn't retreat and held his ground.
"Yeah," Steve said, his voice dropping into a lower register. He let his hands rest against Tony's chest and slowly, teasingly, dragged them down his sides, until they came to rest on his hips and he could pull Tony close until they stood toe to toe.
"What's that, then?" Tony asked. He had to tilt his head back to look Steve in the face, and Steve now recognized the contact lenses Tony had developed for SHIELD's undercover missions, bright blue eyes staring at him instead of the familiar brown.
"I don't quite remember," he murmured, bringing his lips down until they brushed against Tony's in a whisper-soft caress. "Maybe you can jog my mind. Something about...hands?"
Tony groaned and surged up into the kiss, his tongue pushing into Steve's mouth and his own arms coming up around Steve's neck, holding them close together.
"Didn't I tell you?" he murmured against the hollow of Steve's throat. "About these people?"
"They're going to be disappointed now," Steve pointed out and pulled Tony toward the couch. "You made them wait for Captain America, and he didn't show."
Tony laughed as he moved to straddle Steve's thighs. "Oops," he said. "But in all fairness, it's not my fault they don't recognize you when you're not all blue and spangly."
"It's not your fault either that they don't recognize you out of a suit of any kind?" Steve guessed.
Tony ground himself against him. "Tell me you didn't like it," he murmured. "Standing there and listening to them pining for a symbol...having a crush on you."
He looked at Steve with foreign, blue eyes, hooded with desire, like one of those kids that didn't know anything about him, didn't even recognize him when he was out of his uniform, and he looked so much like himself and yet, like a stranger who could be indulged without risking the team, that Steve did the only thing he could think of.
He rolled them until Tony was sprawled out underneath him and kissed him again.
by: kathierif_fic
Fandom: MCU/Avengers
Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, no money
Summary: "Don't you think he's the best-looking of the Avengers?" one of them asked, and Steve blushed.
A/Ns: For the "anonymity" square on kink_bingo.
"What is going on?" Steve asked as he stepped closer to the group of people clustered at the corner of the street. If he felt a little uncomfortable talking to a woman dressed in as little as the one he had addressed, he was hiding it well.
The woman barely gave him a second glance. "There were tweets that Captain America has been seen in this neighborhood," she told him excitedly. "Captain America himself, can you imagine?"
Steve could imagine very well. "So...you're waiting for him, then?" he asked. "Why?"
The woman gave him a look that Steve was very familiar with, the you-should-know-the-answer-to-that-look that Tony Stark had perfected. And when he took a second, closer look at the clothes she and her companions wore, it was, in a way, very obvious as to why these people were waiting.
Or maybe he was just being old-fashioned again and this was what they usually wore, a small voice at the back of his mind that sounded like a mix of Bucky and Tony reminded him.
Slowly, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. "So...Captain America, huh?" he said. "Why him? Why not...Iron Man, or Thor, or..."
"Really?" another voice interrupted him, belonging to a young man with wild, dark hair sticking up in every direction. "Dude, it's Captain America! Don't you know he punched Hitler more than two hundred times?"
"It wasn't really Hitler," Steve pointed out.
"That's not the point," the kid replied. "He's, like, the star-spangled man! He single-handedly saved more than seven hundred men, and then, he came back to fight against the alien invasion."
"Have you seen his chest?" This came from yet another woman whose own chest was very exposed.
"His chest?" Steve repeated. He barely managed to fight the instinct to reach up and touch his pectorals, as if that would tell him what was so special about his chest.
"I wouldn't mind getting a shot at that," the first woman sighed. "All those yummy muscles..."
"And those hands, by God, getting those hands on you..." This came from another man, dressed in jeans that were ripped across one knee, sneakers and a faded t-shirt. He was wearing a baseball cap, and his beard was carefully styled to resemble Tony Stark's. His eyes, however, were a light blue and not the warm brown of Iron Man.
A collective sigh greeted those words, followed by speculation about what exactly Captain America looked like underneath the costume.
Steve shifted from one foot to the other, his hand clenching around the strap of his backpack.
"Fact is," the fella with the moustache concluded, "He's a hero, he's smart and kind, the kind of person you want in your corner, and he is hot as hell."
Steve's lips twitched with barely contained amusement. "I'll take your word for it," he said before nodding. "I'm more of a fan of the Iron Man. But still...Good luck."
Slowly, he wandered away.
He was still frowning as he made his way to a little-used side entrance of Tony's Tower. He greeted JARVIS and rode the elevator up to the penthouse.
"Hey," he said as he stepped into the main room. Bruce looked up from the book in his lap, Clint raised a hand to wave at him without turning away from the videogame he was playing with Thor, and Natasha stopped her writing of a mission report just long enough to give him a look and a small nod in greeting.
"Where's Tony?"
"Workshop," Bruce answered. "He came home from his meeting and went straight down."
The elevator chose that moment to arrive with a soft chime, and Tony Stark wandered into the room, dressed in black pants and a white undershirt that didn't do much to cover the glare of the reactor in his chest.
"Who's the hipster?" he asked, his eyes sparkling and his lips stretched into a wide grin. "And who let him into my tower?"
"Dude," Clint replied from the couch. "You invited him yourself. It's not our fault Captain America is an art student at heart."
Steve frowned and looked down.
He was dressed in his usual civvies, khakis and a button-down.
"I'm kidding. You know that, right?" Tony asked as he stepped closer and nudged Steve with his elbow. "How was your drawing class?"
"It was good." Steve shrugged and gripped his backpack a little tighter. His teammates had been very supportive when he'd mentioned that he'd like to get back into art school and maybe even finish with some sort of degree eventually, but he still felt strange talking about it. He was half-afraid that people who were not his team would find out and that it would end up on twitter, as well, and that he had to give his dream up because people would stop by to gawk at him when he wasn't ready to be Cap, when he wanted to be just Steve.
Tony nudged him again, and Steve looked up, just in time to see a hint of blue in one of Tony's eyes.
He frowned, but before he could mention it, Tony had pulled away again and moved back toward the elevator, his attention already back on the project he was working on.
That little twinkle of blue, Steve thought, what could that have been? He didn't know, and he'd never before seen anything like it.
There was one direct way to get information, Steve knew. He had to talk to Tony himself.
~~
Tony was standing in the middle of the workship, in the cleared space that housed his assembing and disassembling robots. He had his back turned toward Steve, and Steve took the opportunity to let his eyes slowly wander down Tony's back, from the tip of his head to the back of his feet.
Steve rapped his knuckles against the glass door, because knocking was something polite people did, and stepped into the workshop as soon as JARVIS opened the door for him.
"Tony?" he asked. Pale blue fabric haphazardly thrown across one of the work spaces caught his attention, and he wandered over to investigate.
"I'm busy, Cap," Tony replied absent-mindedly. He still had his back turned toward Steve and wasn't aware of Steve poking through his things.
"Busy, huh?" Steve repeated and picked up the fabric.
It was a shirt, the text on the front faded with age and too many runs in a washer, the fabric itself soft against Steve's fingertips.
"Yeah, I...what are you doing?" Tony's voice sounded alarmed, snapping sharp. He'd apparently turned around and caught Steve snooping.
Steve dropped the shirt and faced Tony. "There was this thing," he said, taking careful steps toward his teammate. "I wanted to ask you about."
"Yeah?" Tony replied. He swallowed thickly, but he didn't retreat and held his ground.
"Yeah," Steve said, his voice dropping into a lower register. He let his hands rest against Tony's chest and slowly, teasingly, dragged them down his sides, until they came to rest on his hips and he could pull Tony close until they stood toe to toe.
"What's that, then?" Tony asked. He had to tilt his head back to look Steve in the face, and Steve now recognized the contact lenses Tony had developed for SHIELD's undercover missions, bright blue eyes staring at him instead of the familiar brown.
"I don't quite remember," he murmured, bringing his lips down until they brushed against Tony's in a whisper-soft caress. "Maybe you can jog my mind. Something about...hands?"
Tony groaned and surged up into the kiss, his tongue pushing into Steve's mouth and his own arms coming up around Steve's neck, holding them close together.
"Didn't I tell you?" he murmured against the hollow of Steve's throat. "About these people?"
"They're going to be disappointed now," Steve pointed out and pulled Tony toward the couch. "You made them wait for Captain America, and he didn't show."
Tony laughed as he moved to straddle Steve's thighs. "Oops," he said. "But in all fairness, it's not my fault they don't recognize you when you're not all blue and spangly."
"It's not your fault either that they don't recognize you out of a suit of any kind?" Steve guessed.
Tony ground himself against him. "Tell me you didn't like it," he murmured. "Standing there and listening to them pining for a symbol...having a crush on you."
He looked at Steve with foreign, blue eyes, hooded with desire, like one of those kids that didn't know anything about him, didn't even recognize him when he was out of his uniform, and he looked so much like himself and yet, like a stranger who could be indulged without risking the team, that Steve did the only thing he could think of.
He rolled them until Tony was sprawled out underneath him and kissed him again.