Oh, God...

[shieldborne]

Infinity War Open Post






THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.

Drop me a prompt, or ask me to drop you a prompt. Open to doomy pre-IW foreshadowing, fix-it AUs, post-IW angst, character interactions that should have happened but didn't on-screen, crossovers, and whatever else anyone can come up with.

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[shieldborne]

In a way, they have been together for a long time. Steve was always doing his best to read and interpret Tony's expressions, even when he thought they wanted as little to do with one another as possible. Now, all those memories are being reshuffled, refiled, re-interpreted with greater significance assigned to them all. Every breath, every flicker of dark eyelashes is vital, as long as they're one another's lifelines.

Not so with this younger Tony, but he's still comparing and compiling, if with less desperation. The weary look he's getting worries him. He doubts Tony's had enough liquor to get more than buzzed, unless he'd been day drinking before Steve showed up...

But suddenly, the older Tony's certainty that Steve was going to get dragged out for pizza proves well-founded. He wants to laugh, but curbs the reaction into a brief grin. "I'm not sure I understand your junk food obsession, Tony, but I gotta admit, your taste in pizza is second to none."

[starkingenuity]

Tony is flashy, flashier in his younger days than he’d been the last time he’d brought Steve to Brooklyn. There’s no baseball cap and lifted cell phones are met with easily posed for selfies. Steve, for the moment, is ignored, cast in a shadow twice Tony’s height to dwarf the blond. Most people have forgotten Captain America enough to no longer know what he looks like. Tony is on magazine covers and the nightly news.

It’s extra cheese and birch beer again, and they’re back in that corner by the door to the office and stock room. People are giggling and texting around them, but Tony’s eyes are fixated on Steve, drinking him in and turning him over as if trying to decide what the best angle to bite into might be.

They’d spoken at length In the car about HYDRA, and JARVIS took down names and places to search while his human creator had pizza with a man more out of time than ever before. Now, Tony is less interested in work. You don’t work while you have pizza unless it involves watching TV too. The news keeps him informed of where he needs to go next, but it’s also entertaining.

“So I’ve been thinking that when I get closer to retirement, I’ll run for president. Is your me President?”

[shieldborne]

Steve is visibly tense under the onslaught of popularity, at first. He hates being recognized on the street, and while he does feel some warmth towards the people who truly believe in Captain America and what he stands for, he'd just as soon not run into any. It doesn't take him long to realize he's invisible next to Tony Stark, though. In a way, he's even more anonymous by his side than he would be alone, because no one notices a tall, handsome nobody next to a less-tall handsome somebody. It's almost liberating.

He does make sure to pull the brim of his hat down and angle his face away, though. He doesn't want to be in the background of any chance snapshots.

Tony's calculating, analytical gaze makes Steve feel slightly more vulnerable than he'd like, but it's a small price to pay for ice cold birch beer. Maybe it will feel satisfying to Tony to watch Steve genuinely enjoy his meal choice.

He blinks at the suggestion, then looks thoughtful, because politics is a long way out of his wheelhouse, but he wouldn't be surprised if his Tony has been involved in ways other than getting caught up in the Accords. He's going to ask later. "No...but honestly, we could do worse then President Tony Stark. I don't think you'd enjoy the process, but if you're serious and the world doesn't blow up, go for it. At least one of the two of me will vote for you."

[starkingenuity]

Steve’s work might be equal parts tedious and enjoyable, but Tony’s, Steve’s actual Tony, is not having fun. Besting himself might feel like his hardest task to date, but he has too many advantages to the younger Tony. It’s a shame how easy it is to manipulate JARVIS, to write an underlying base code to shut down Iron Man the moment the armor comes into contact with the chill of space, and to ensure that Stark will be dead post Battle of New York. He should feel guilty for the suicide, but he doesn’t. He’s caused enough pain and destruction. He can’t be allowed to cause more, with or without access to the Mind Stone.

The whole process takes half an hour. It takes longer for the other Tony and Steve to get to Brooklyn, actually, but Tony isn’t planning on following the pair. Steve used to be their leader and he trusts his judgement on this. It’s up to him to tell as much or as little as he wants.

Tony is just about to leave the Tower when the smell of a familiar perfume causes him to look over his shoulder. He hadn’t even heard her come back. “Have you been working this whole time?”

Tony finds himself smiling and shrugs. “You know me,” he says, which seems to take the woman aback.

“Yeah, Tony, I do and—“ she starts but Tony cuts her off, heading out of the room.

“Hold that thought. Be right back,” he says. He finds it odd, stepping into the elevator, how much he doesn’t miss her. Maybe it’s because she’s not really Pepper. She’s a Pepper from years ago, younger and more willing to put up with his shit.

And Tony doesn’t need that anymore.

That’s probably why he’s not at all bothered, and sitting behind the wheel, when Steve returns. He tilts his head back against the headrest and smiles up at the blond. “Two more days. How do you want to play this, Rogers? Because if I know you like I think I do, we’re going to have to get you a new uniform.”

[shieldborne]

It's an interesting meal. Steve hasn't processed the last pizza party with Tony as a date, per se, and this one is even less so. He's no homewrecker. Still, the chatter is an interesting opportunity to remind himself why there was so much friction between them to start, compare this younger Tony with the one that's had almost a decade to mellow (and take several additional psychological wounds, unfortunately), and deliver a couple tentative warnings that don't relate directly to Hydra, but to other events in their rocky history. Whether any of them will register, he can't be sure, but he can hope.

Younger Tony is both better and worse than he remembered. Or maybe he just has an easier time seeing through the sandpaper facade, even as it rubs him the wrong way. In the end, he's terribly, terribly human. Flawed, brilliant, hungry for regard that has no relation to his family name or the number and size of his bank accounts. He's just...Tony.

That having been noted, he's still glad to get back to his version. Steve's state of mind is mercurial enough that having to modulate it over the course of the evening has gotten exhausting, and he's glad to be in the presence of a Tony Stark that's reliably a bit more tactful. He slides into the seat beside him and reaches to run his fingers through his hair at once, like it's some kind of sensory thing he needs to clear his mind from the past couple hours.

"You mean a new, new uniform, or an old one?" He smiles wryly. "I kinda hate to just rob the Smithsonian again. What did you have in mind, and does it involve the red boots?" He's getting a lot more mileage out of that sartorial decision than he ever thought he would.

[starkingenuity]

Tilting his head first away from and then towards Steve to allow his lover better access to more of his hair, Tony briefly closes his eyes to enjoy the sensation. Steve has such large hands, warm and gentle, despite what he’s seen them capable of. He’s overly fond of this particular touch, half moon nails lightly grazing his scalp, and the motion makes him feel relaxed despite of the action he had just plotted against himself.

No one will need Tony to find HYDRA. JARVIS will be able to do it on his own, working with the other Avengers. He will never become Vision, but that doesn’t mean he can’t join the team in Tony’s absence.

And he and Steve can make sure HYDRA goes down before it can ever officially pop back up again.

Turning back towards those blue eyes, ones that radiated affection in the darkness, Tony can’t help but smile. “It’s got everything to do with those boots. SHIELD should have a few prototypes laying around. There’s a few not so bright and Disney-Prince.”

Tony doesn’t think he wants to play break and enter any more tonight though.

[shieldborne]

Isn't petting a cat supposed to have health benefits? Lowering blood pressure, calming, something like that? Steve likes animals, although he doesn't particularly want a cat, or a dog for that matter. Petting Tony's fluff of dark hair seems to have a similar beneficial effect, luckily. Steve imagines it's a superior effect, in fact; Tony is just better at most things to begin with, and he gives good feedback.

Actually, under the right circumstances, Steve is betting he could get him to purr.

He has no idea what's in store for the younger version he's just encountered. It's probably better that way; their plans can't afford the argument and sheer moral horror that would spark. Is that suicide or murder, killing a younger version of yourself? Time travel is full of ethical complications.

But since he is innocent of any plot other than their own, he laughs softly when Tony teases him, eyes brightening. "I love you and your unexpected footwear kink," he tells him with impulsive sincerity. "But I hope you're kidding about busting into SHIELD for them. Are we going shopping or something? I had pizza, but you should probably eat."

[starkingenuity]

“It’s New York. Of course we’re going shopping,” Tony says, putting the car into reverse to back out of their spot on the street. There’s nothing like having someone spontaneous tell you that they love you and Tony is going to be holding onto that one for a long time. There had been no command, no pressing need to hear it, and yet there it had been, sending little sparks of pleasure down his spine.

Tony is pleased, murderous plots aside. They’re not supposed to keep anything from each other anymore but Tony isn’t one to take the moral high ground and his compass is always shy of pointing to true north. It’s nothing to orchestrate a hit on himself and still enjoy a drive through the streets of Manhattan.

“I’ll eat later. You’ll probably be hungry in a little while anyway.” There’s a lot more room service in their future, thanks to the wads of cash they’re flush with. But Tony hadn’t been joking about Steve needing a uniform. He could always use one of the suits of armor that Tony brought, but Captain America is less technology and more good old fashioned elbow grease. And really high kicks.

There’s plenty of costume stores around the city but FRIDAY points them to a custom made fetish shop for their needs. Steve can do back flips in spandex and cheap plastic bag crap, but he shouldn’t have to. Not when they can afford something more durable and leather.

[shieldborne]

Sooner or later, Steve feels, they will have to tone down the spending some. Even repeated wins at the tables in Atlantic City--or Vegas--will only support so much frivolity. But since there's also the possibility they'll die in the next week, he's not going to make waves yet. They'll figure out how to fund their crusade after they destroy the first two stones. Maybe, if they're really lucky, they'll get a chance for a long enough downtime to live like normal human beings for a while.

You know. A year or two. After they take care of HYDRA. That's not too much to ask.

"I'm not a bottomless pit," he tells Tony archly. But it's true that he needs a ridiculous amount of calories to feel comfortable. He can keep running for a long, long time on MREs and bad coffee, but he rarely turns down a real meal. He's going to be keeping an eye on Tony's eating habits, too, from now on. The mother-henning could get annoying eventually.

Steve actually suggests a dancewear shop first, with only a hint of self-consciousness. Flexibility in his work clothes is pretty important; historically it's been more important than armor, since he had his shield, not to mention his general durability. When Tony nixes that, and doesn't seem interested in looking for an army surplus store, either, Steve just waits to see where they end up.

The result prompts a next-level blush and an explosion of laughter that has to run its course before he can leave the car. "I don't know what you have in mind here, Tony," he murmurs at the door, "but I am sure as fuck not wearing a leather g-string to fight the Chitauri. Is this...is this a place you've visited often?"

It's not that he's oblivious to the existence of fetishwear, or scandalized by it. Leather, in particular, was finding its feet right around the time he entered the military. But he's never been in a modern shop like this before, and he's not at all sure what to expect. The possibility that Tony's trolling him has occurred to him. But what the hell, they might have the right boots.

[starkingenuity]

With half a grunt and half a laughing side eye, Tony shakes his head. “I’ve never been. But a dance shop won’t be open this time of night and they don’t make boots and breast plates.”

Tony might be a lot of things, but he’s not part of the kink community and he’s never gone to a shop like this before for that kind of thing. He does, however, know the proprietor of this sort of place. She’s done s lot of work for him in the past. His own past, not hers. He knows his limitations. Leather working and crafting body suits are not his forte, but they are Angel’s.

The sign on the store says it closed half an hour ago but he knows it’s not empty and so he rings the bell on the wall opposite the direction of the pull and a woman in her late sixties answers a few minutes later, eying the pair through the metal grate covering the shop window. “Yes, gentlemen?”

Tony sees no reason to hide his identity here and so he smirks and steps towards the light. “Need a favor, Angel. One we can pay for.” Good luck, Steve, if you think you can wean Tony off of his spending habit. He’s never actually had to budget before. It will be a new experience. “I have a few pieces I need crafted, two days or less. The big guy has huge calves and we can’t just go to a regular shoe store. Interested?”

[shieldborne]

Okay, fair point. Steve manages to calm down the giggles enough to consider the construction of his various uniforms over the past few years. More Kevlar than leather, in the breastplates, but he's not sure that will make a difference with this upcoming fight. The Chitauri mostly had energy weapons, not projectile, if he recalls right. Kevlar might even be less effective than leather. He's not sure what the heat resistance of either might be, offhand.

But he bets Tony knows. There's something reassuring about that, discovering that someone has considered all the practical angles you hadn't gotten around to yet. He gives him a gentle squeeze on the upper arm and nods.

The look of the woman that appears at the door immediately takes Steve back to the site of Project Rebirth and the refined, elderly woman at the counter when he and Peggy entered the facade of the experimental facility. He's half expecting Tony to tell her he always carries an umbrella. That's the trouble with being old, or at least having a lot of life experience. Almost everything reminds you of something, and when it doesn't, it's usually offputting.

He takes off his hat politely, standing off to Tony's side but close enough to show his face. And then he side-eyes Tony's introduction. You can't just address random women as 'angel' anymore, can you? Not without getting an eyeroll in return, at least. "Excuse me, they're 'huge'?"

He glances down at his legs with a quizzical frown. He has yet to buy his own boots in the 21st century. He's never run afoul of his own calf measurements.

[starkingenuity]

“Most people don’t have twenty inch calves,” Tony says smugly, while the older woman looks Steve over carefully in the scant light. Her dark eyes are piercing, moreso than Tony’s will ever be, and when she’s done her scrutiny, she snaps her fingers and opens the door.

“I have the materials and I may be able to find the time. Let me get measurements,” she says, her voice deceptively deep and rattled from too much smoking over the years. “Come in. Quickly. Don’t let the cats out.”

Tony takes up the rear, trailing behind the blond. His eyes wander, mostly because he’s human and curious and there are rows of shelves with all sorts of lurid and interesting packages on them. His hands remain firmly in his pockets, however, because they are not here to buy novelty items.

The back room that Angel leads them to is filled with plush velvet furniture and gold fixtures. It’s decadent without looking cheap or sloppy. The woman snaps her fingers again for Steve to get up on a small raised platform in front of a set of three angled mirrors. Tony is there to dictate what he wants, looking half predatory and half like the business man he’s been for much of his life. “Boots, knee. Red leather. And gloves. Fingerless. With roughed up palm grips. He’s going to need a chest piece that allows full range of arm motion. Something to protect his skin.”

“Motorcycle gear?”

“Yeah but easier to maneuver in. He’s a dancer.” Grin. What a lovely grin, reflected three times back. “He needs his joints to retain fluidity. Can you do that?”

“Tall order. Literally. We have some pieces in stock I can work from.”

[shieldborne]

That gimlet gaze is impressive. Steve knows nothing of this woman's history, but he's immediately convinced to be on his best behavior (he usually is, anyway, but sometimes he's more conscious of it). He goes inside when prompted, and he is also scanning the shelves. With his wholesome face and soft blue eyes, one might be forgiven for assuming he's just looking for the cats (partly he is), but his eyes linger over some of the plainer-looking implements and harnesses. Slightly flushed, thoughtful, not shocked.

His eyebrows jump when she snaps her fingers at him, but he doesn't argue, handing his hat off to Tony in case she needs his hands free for something. Pointedly, he doesn't bother looking at his own reflection, but his eyes flicker over the kaleidoscope images of Tony's face. He thinks he looks like he's enjoying this far too much.

"A little bit of dancer, a little bit of gymnast, a little bit of MMA," he says dryly. "I can ride a motorcycle but it wouldn't be any fun in the city."

[starkingenuity]

“Either way,” Tony draws, glancing at Steve in the mirror, “he needs to keep a full range of motion. If we can’t do it with the leather, it can be left exposed.” A regular t-shirt or a leotard will work out fine for the other areas. Some of those uniforms he’s seen Steve pull on looked painted on anyway in areas. Tony’s sure there’s some sort of protective fiber there but they don’t have the time to goof off developing the right fabrics. “And we need you to be as discreet as possible.”

The older woman snorts. “Mister Stark. You come to me. You know I work with discretion.” Tony nods in response.

“You’re the best. We’re going to have a great relationship.” That’s not exactly true. The other Tony will be dead in two days and won’t have need of the woman’s fine craftmanship. He ponies up a few thousand dollars in hundreds and fifties and once she has all of Steve’s measurements, she motions them to let themselves out.

“Mind the cats!” she calls, a reminder that Tony heeds almost immediately since he barely misses stepping on a dark gray ball of fur with hair and a tail. It screeches, but he thinks better of shrieking back.

[shieldborne]

Steve is oddly passive and docile as she takes measurements. He's been through this a few times before, measured for uniforms and stage and screen costumes, checked for muscle growth, samples plucked from his veins, and so on, and so forth. Nothing new. He's never liked it, being viewed with such detachment, not when he was an invalid his mother carried to monthly appointments in the Catholic hospital, not after he was 'Reborn', and not after the ice, under SHIELD's ministrations. This is minimally invasive, at least, and more boring than dehumanizing, but his mind wanders a little and he doesn't say much while they're working.

He memorizes every aspect of the room around them, though, and if he's asked later, he'll be able to recall the conversation word for word.

He whistles softly when he sees how much Tony's paying, but it's only sticker shock. Hand-craftsmanship in a hurry doesn't come cheap, and he gives the artisan a polite nod before they head out. He also makes a soft mrrr-chirp? noise at the angry cat, an awkward human-feline lingua franca he picked up in alleys as a child. The cat gives him a funny look but doesn't respond in kind, and he's not stupid enough to try to pet it.

Outside in the night air again, he takes a deep breath and looks up at the sliver of sky peeping from between looming buildings. "...hotel now?" He asks quietly. "You still need dinner."

[starkingenuity]

Tony isn’t hungry. He isn’t all that tired either. He’s got an energy to him, like he’s buzzing with the vibration of what’s to come. Passing the next few days won’t be easy, though it isn’t like they’ll be sitting around doing nothing. They need to get to the base the Tesseract is being held in before Loki does to ensure that everything goes as planned, and to keep an eye on the people Loki is about to enslave. Their mission will start on the ground and from within, rather than up in the hellicarrier as hapless victims of a sudden assault.

Tony will eat because Steve wants him to eat. And he’ll eventually come to bed even if he’s got a bug stuck in his crawl about some tweaks to the armor they still need to fetch from Brooklyn.

It’s all going to come down some choreographed steps based on past knowledge and present judgements so that they don’t change the things that must stay the same.

It’s a good thing that Steve paints a pretty picture in bed and that Tony is at best a hedonist. A few looks will bring the mechanic back towards his blond, perhaps a little too easily. “Do you always look this good? Yeah you do. You’re just humble about it,” he murmurs, taking a play from Steve’s rule book to run his fingers through artificially lightened strands.

[shieldborne]

Steve is a contrast to Tony's buzzing energy. It's not that he's tired or even melancholy, just pensive. It makes him quiet, although he still smiles and responds to Tony's conversation, and he's focused enough on the here and now to insist they both eat. He actually has a beer with his dinner, which isn't his usual fare, but he drinks it with all the slow savor of a guy who is capable of getting drunk off it. He was that guy, once.

He's thinking about Peggy at first, reflecting that she's still alive here. He doesn't want to see her. Bucky coming back from the dead is enough. Besides, the shock of seeing him was a concern the first time around. Seeing two living Steves one after another would be bad for her condition. Still, she's here, and he's got a little money, and it would be a matter of a few minutes to buy her some flowers and send them anonymously. Roses, he thinks. Red and white? Or maybe the full spectrum of colors they have available. Rainbow roses. He'll do it tomorrow.

After that, though, he finds his brain wandering through winding memories of the war. Nothing particularly tragic, but details he hasn't thought about in a while. Stories he could probably share with Tony, if he wanted to hear them.

He doesn't especially want to sleep, but he can tell with the mood Tony's in, if he says he's staying up, neither of them will rest tonight. Besides, if they both lie down, cuddling is a possibility, and one he very much welcomes. Briefly he wonders if Tony likes flowers, and finds himself smiling at the idea of getting him red and yellow roses to match the suit. It's that grin that Tony gets the sight of when he comes to the bed and strokes through his hair. There's a certain undeniable charm to Steve's smile when he's pondering gentle mischief.

"You're good at sweet-talk, Tony," he tells him, reaching up to run his fingers up and down his forearm. "You wanna hear a secret? That wasn't the first time I've been around wrist restraints and riding crops."

[starkingenuity]

Sitting back on his heels, Tony drops his hands from Steve’s head and shoulders onto his thighs. “I don’t think you understand how weak my heart is,” he says, frowning slightly, the creases in his face deep. He won’t go into it, not because it’s gruesome or triggering to talk about the car battery or the way his heart used to literally stop whenever he removed the reactor for replacement. He doesn’t want to mention the fact that Steve had broken the frail, birdlike bones of his much abused rib cage when he brought that shield down over his suit, only one reactor between it and his heart. He barely has a scar on his chest, thanks to modern medical technology, but he hasn’t come away unscathed. Having a sexual relationship with Steve has staved off his previous reactions to flinch from his touch and he really doesn’t want to start that all up again. It’s better to keep things simple. “You can’t just completely marr the idea of have of you in such a constant basis anymore.”

It’s not a genuine complaint. He enjoys hearing about Steve’s exploits, really. It makes him more human, rather than this paragon of virginal virtue.

Not that Steve is a virgin now. Tony is pretty proud of that. It’s in his top five accomplishments, for sure.

“What sort of Army did you used to march in? The golden era was a lot kinkier than anyone ever told us.”

[shieldborne]

"You said you didn't want me to hold anything back anymore," he reminds him, and his gaze scans his expression intently, making sure he's not actually disturbed by the confession. Blue eyes soften a moment later, satisfied Tony's only firing back his usual banter. "Anyway, I figured if you're gonna get off on the idea of me in nothing but the boots, we might as well address it."

He sits up a little, for the sole purpose of being able to reach Tony's shoulders and hair, petting him idly in return. "People have always been people, y'know. In the Victorian era, guys used to pay for women to beat them with sticks and belts. Humans just don't seem to know what do with sexual impulses in general, as far as I can tell. They get wrapped up with violence so damn easy."

"Remember what I told you about the USO girls? It wasn't as much about pleasure as finding an outlet. I think Des Moines was the only time until now it was about feeling good. And with you has been...the first time it was about...any kind of emotion."

Which sounds fucking tragic now that it's out of his mouth and Steve wishes he hadn't said anything. He looks annoyed with himself. If he and Bucky had ever gotten past their various hangups and horrors, he's sure they could have had something beautiful. But they didn't get a chance, and Steve and Peggy didn't get a chance, and neither did Steve and Sharon, Steve and Sam...he's lost a lot of time. He's lost a lot.

He shakes his head, jaw clenching briefly. "The point is, between battles, a guy needs something to keep him from dwelling on what he's just seen and worrying about what he's going to see on the front lines next time he's out there. You can have someone tie you to a chair and smack you around for an hour or so without feeling like you're cheating on the gal you're maybe in love with."

Or the guy sharing the barracks with you that you're maybe also in love with.

"It wasn't overtly sexual. Mind you, Peggy would probably still have been pissed off if she'd ever found out."

On the really bad days, he liked that idea. She shot at him behind the shield once, after all. Reflecting on what she might do to him in a state of righteous indignation, if he let her, used to be one of his favorite fantasies to unwind to. In retrospect, he's a bit ashamed of that.

"You're right, though. We were always a lot kinkier than the history books give us credit for. I used to help the prostitutes down the hall carry their groceries in, when we lived in the tenements. Ma said be nice to everyone, because you don't know what their story is. They gave us Christmas cards every year."

Which is the opposite of kinky, actually, but all he means to say is that he didn't grow up in some kind of Leave-it-to-Beaver bubble of wholesomeness (that was the 50s, anyway, not the 30s, and an unrealistic picture even at that rate). People fought in his neighborhood. People fucked, and drank, swore and stole and did hard drugs. People have always been people.

[starkingenuity]

Tony has a good imagination, good enough that he can’t help but think about nights Captain America let himself be tied up and smacked around as a form of stress relief. Tony could understand it. There were all sorts of stories about rich or powerful men seeking out domination and Tony, while it was never quite his thing, wasn’t going to judge. He had been kidnapped and held hostage a few too many times actually for that to be enjoyable. Not even with pink furry cuffs and a feather duster in place of the kinkier objects.

He enjoys having his hair stroked. He enjoys Steve’s arms and his warmth. Tony likes to be pampered. He liked it when people genuinely care about him. He’s had enough of the fake stuff to be able to tell the difference. While there might be a side of him that likes being bruised a bit and to have his hair pulled, he doesn’t think he’d enjoy much else.

But that said? “If you really want to be smacked around a little, I can oblige,” Tony teases, though there is a definitive edge of truth to it. “I should really work on my left hook. Still my weakness.”

He’s serious too. It would take a lot to get Steve’s attention and there’s something appealing to being able to just let loose when the day’s been bad and your liver hurts too much to drink much more.

[shieldborne]

Steve doesn't have an issue with being toppy in bed. He can be dominant, but his version thereof seems to involve judicious use of his overwhelming strength and stamina, and his natural inclination to be warm and affectionate and nurturing. Sparring is one thing, and it's not like he's never hit a friend, but he'd have trouble slapping or binding someone in a sexual context, even though he knows damn well what he likes on the receiving end. Tony need not worry about Steve asking to strap him to a chair.

He also doesn't need to fret about Steve stopping the gentle fondling he's giving him anytime soon. If anything, his touch gets softer as they talk; more tender, but less shy, moving down his chest and back up his shoulders. "It wouldn't be the same with you," he says.

"Because it wouldn't just be about having an outlet. It would be about us, and that'd make it way more intense." There's a thrill creeping down his spine, light and dark impulses stirring in his brain.

"I trust you," he says, and means it, and that's the light side. It means something to him that Tony's able to listen to the more checkered bits of his past without judgment. Barely even a tease, in fact. He can't help but think it might be good for them both, for Steve to put himself in Tony's hands, prove he's ready to give him everything.

The flip side is they're pushing past their recent history quickly. What is and isn't truly resolved between them is hard to say. And it would be so easy for Steve to just throw himself down and take whatever Tony wanted to dish out as a kind of punishment for letting things go so badly wrong...That wouldn't be fair. Tony has his faults, the occasional fit of temper is one of them, but deliberate physical and psychological cruelty is not.

He adds after a moment, "But then, I never had sex with them. God, Tony. I can't lie, the idea of you locking me down and wearing me out and then pounding me into the mattress is...appealing." His hips shift a little under the blankets, trying to tame the reaction his body is starting to have to this kind of talk.

"If you'd like it, too."

[starkingenuity]

Though it’s not getting any less shocking to hear Steve talk like this, there is likely few men alive that wouldn’t like to have the upper hand on a creature created to be the paragon of humanity. It’s hard not to feel the need to gloat, but he refrains for the moment. Now isn’t the time. Not when this relationship is becoming the sole binding factor to keep them on their path. Playing God Is something Tony has always done, but it’s more satisfying and productive to have a partner to keep him in check while they go.

Sort of. His lover has no idea what he’s truly capable of. Tony isn’t too proud of that, actually. He wanted Steve’s approval more than most everything else but saving the universe sort of trumps that.

“Hmmm,” Tony breaths, feeling comfortably weightless in the blond’s arms, “We’ll go full on Christian Gray when this fighting is done and we can take a little vacation.” He doesn’t know if Steve gets the reference or not, but it isn’t important. “It’ll give me some time to do some research in the meantime.”

Tony wasn’t beyond a little spice in the bedroom, though he’s really very vanilla when it comes to his own preferences. Blow jobs and some sort of penetrative sex are his preferred Modus Operandi, but let it not be said that he can’t master anything he sets his mind to.

Even the lovely, falsely innocent Captain America.

“I could ask the entire world if anyone thought you were kinky and every single man and woman would deny it to their dying breath,” he laughs. “If you ever wanted to know what to get s guy that has everything? Something like this is pretty good. It feels like Christmas cards from prostitutes in here.”

[starkingenuity]

Though it’s not getting any less shocking to hear Steve talk like this, there is likely few men alive that wouldn’t like to have the upper hand on a creature created to be the paragon of humanity. It’s hard not to feel the need to gloat, but he refrains for the moment. Now isn’t the time. Not when this relationship is becoming the sole binding factor to keep them on their path. Playing God Is something Tony has always done, but it’s more satisfying and productive to have a partner to keep him in check while they go.

Sort of. His lover has no idea what he’s truly capable of. Tony isn’t too proud of that, actually. He wanted Steve’s approval more than most everything else but saving the universe sort of trumps that.

“Hmmm,” Tony breaths, feeling comfortably weightless in the blond’s arms, “We’ll go full on Christian Gray when this fighting is done and we can take a little vacation.” He doesn’t know if Steve gets the reference or not, but it isn’t important. “It’ll give me some time to do some research in the meantime.”

Tony wasn’t beyond a little spice in the bedroom, though he’s really very vanilla when it comes to his own preferences. Blow jobs and some sort of penetrative sex are his preferred Modus Operandi, but let it not be said that he can’t master anything he sets his mind to.

Even the lovely, falsely innocent Captain America.

“I could ask the entire world if anyone thought you were kinky and every single man and woman would deny it to their dying breath,” he laughs. “If you ever wanted to know what to get s guy that has everything? Something like this is pretty good. It feels like Christmas cards from prostitutes in here.”

[shieldborne]

Steve is weirdly detached from the idea of himself as the pinnacle of human performance, even more so now than during the war. As much as he considers the serum and its effects a serious responsibility, he's pretty wrapped up in the idea that there's too much variation in humanity to select a few traits and pump them up and call that perfect. That's what Schmidt wanted, he supposes. Maybe that's what Erskine wanted at first, but Steve still clings to the idea that the serum magnifies whatever is in the person that takes it. Good becomes great. But he has to maintain the good, because it's a long way to fall, if he falls, and there's a red skull grinning at the bottom of the slope, mocking.

And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Just a kid from Brooklyn.

He's heard plenty about how beautiful and perfect he is, and the less said there, the better as far as he's concerned. Except from Tony, perhaps, if he's going to flirt.

He does not, in fact, get the reference, and the quizzical rise and fall of his eyebrows says so, but like Tony he concludes it isn't important. He gets the context. "The idea of you researching kink for me is weirdly touching," he says. "Engineering sex toys in your workshop in the wee hours of the morning..."

His eyes are sparkling. For an awkward confession, this is turning out all right. "Nothing with its own AI, okay? I don't want a sci-fi threesome. You're plenty to handle all on your own."

He tugs him into a kiss, then uses that as a starting point to nuzzle across his cheekbone and around to the side of his throat. "That can be the title of your memoir," he says. "'Christmas Cards from Prostitutes: My Life with Deaf Artist Drag-Queen Captain America.' By Tony Stark."

[starkingenuity]

“I hope they make it into a musical,” Tony breathes, not entirely yielding to Steve as much as opening up to him. It’s a new relationship, he knows that, and sex is important to New romantic relationships. Tony isn’t opposed to it, though there are other things to focus on right now. He can’t believe he’s even thinking that, as his fingers lightly press to Steve’s shoulder. It’s the universal ‘woah boy’ gesture used by people everywhere. After they save the world, Tony can and will give Steve everything he can before Steve becomes invariably disenchanted or annoyed with him. Tony’s passions don’t waiver but his distractions, often seen as a charming part of his genius, eventually become insurmountable.

Even though he’s forced Steve to love him, to be in love with him, he knows it can’t be forever. Fatalistic as that may be, it was one of Tony’s less endearing but persuasive characteristics. Thanks dad.

“We should go over it again.” Tony, usually so impulsive, doesn’t want to take the chance on the timeline. He doesn’t like to restart levels from the save point. There might not even be a save point, because he has no way of testing their time machine without actually using it. They need to make this shot count because it could well be their only shot. “Before I really do stay up until dawn designing sex toys.”

At this point, there’s a day and a half until Loki arrives. Tomorrow will have to count.