This is part 1 of 5
marvel_bang Masterpost HERE
It may not have been Tony’s best day – losing all the letters but the ‘A’ on his tower – but it ends up working perfectly.
Not long after everyone went their own way, tied up their loose ends, visited family – all the normal things in one’s life – they returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. in search of any task to do. Except there was no bad guy to fight anymore. Not now that Loki was safely paying for his crimes in another world.
So what could six reckless people do with all their extra time and energy? They had a meeting – a very short one, because Tony hates them – and Steve came up with something a little unorthodox.
“We could use Stark Tower as our base,” Steve suggests, looking around the board table for reactions.
Clint looks over at Natasha, who tilts her head almost imperceptibly. Tony rolls his eyes, chewing harder on his gum, and tilting his sunglasses down. Thor’s eyebrows crease as he considers it, scraping his beard. And Fury seems… a bit too enthusiastic. Coulson isn’t looking at his Captain America cards because he’s too busy beaming at them – so excited to finally have a chance to ask for a signature. He’s mostly oblivious to the entire meeting (or maybe just an expert at pretending he isn’t listening).
“I have to hand it to you, Rogers,” Fury says, patting Steve on the back, “I think there’s a reason you’re the leader of The Avengers.”
“Now wait a second,” Tony cuts in, yanking his sunglasses off. “This is my tower, and he doesn’t even like it – I remember something about it being ‘big and ugly’. And if anyone should be the leader, it should be me because this is my tower. Did I mention that part already?”
Pepper clears her throat, her clipboard at her side, not entirely ignoring Tony, but it’s a close thing. “I think we should just vote – for both things.” Tony’s mouth falls open in disbelief; his own girlfriend turning on him.
“That is a formidable idea Lady Pepper,” Thor exclaims. “Let us be democratic just as we are on Asgard!”
Fury crosses his arms. “All in favour of Steve being the leader of The Avengers, and using Stark tower as your headquarters?”
Everyone, save for Tony of course, raises their hand. Coulson raises both arms
Tony pushes out of his seat, jabbing a finger in Coulson’s face threateningly. (Who else is he capable of threatening, really?) “You’re not staying here, agent,” Tony grinds out.
Fury fixes Tony with his non-patched eye and says, “I need to have someone here to keep you in line just in case Rogers is away or can’t handle you alone. Agent Coulson stays.”
“Do I get any say? Because, honestly, how is this even a democracy?” Tony looks to Thor who just blinks in confusion.
“It’s a democracy because there’s been a vote, and the majority agreed,” Steve answers, finally partaking in the discussion again.
“Yeah, sure, Cap here is all for it because it was his idea in the first place. You know what? Whatever.” Tony grabs Pepper’s arm. “I’ll be in the penthouse if anyone cares about my opinion.”
Less than a week later, all six of the world’s recent saviours are living in the renovated Stark tower (referred to as The Avengers tower behind Tony’s back).
Tony has the penthouse – which he shares with Pepper whenever she has time away from being his fantastic CEO – and he doesn’t spend much time outside of there, except to go into the R&D department. The two floors below used to be lofts, but have since been modified into bedrooms for the remaining members. Giant bedrooms. The kind of bedroom that could make anyone wish they had a mate to share it with. Maybe that was Tony’s goal when he designed them.
Steve, Natasha and Bruce live on the floor just below Tony’s suite, while Coulson, Thor and Clint live on the floor under them. It was the best arrangement Fury could come up with to avoid any late night brawls due to Tony’s often inconsiderate and noisy habits.
The tower is huge, even big enough to handle one of Hulk’s appearances, but it doesn’t stop them from bumping into each other. It takes time for everyone to come to terms with sharing as if they live in a dorm; they’d all mostly been living alone previous to Loki’s arrival.
Sometimes they meet in the kitchen for breakfast or late night snacks, they use one another’s bathrooms when their own is backed up, they fight over which rented movie they want to watch on a Friday evening, and they spar or work out together in Tony’s gym.
As odd as it sounds, once Coulson has the signatures he’d been wanting from Steve, he lets the ‘children’ run rampant and doesn’t intervene in the slightest. If Tony weren’t the one most often destroying things and walking around naked accidentally – he’s not used to sharing his home as of yet – then Fury would have had a piece of his mind a while ago.
It’s been a month, and, besides Tony’s childish antics and Thor’s impatience with human technology, there hasn’t been much trouble in the tower. It doesn’t stop Steve from holding his breath and expecting the inevitable to happen – sooner or later.
It takes everyone else five days to notice Natasha’s increased withdrawal. Steve already began to worry on the second day. It’s his job as their leader to make sure his teammates – he’d like to think of them as his friends, too– are mentally and physically well.
Steve waits until their scheduled sparring session to bring it up.
Natasha has him trapped like a vice grip; her thighs wrapped around his head, tugging on his right arm just hard enough to hurt and force Steve into submission. If he doesn’t stop her, his shoulder will pop out of his socket. And he’s been in this position before, so he knows there’s no point flailing about or trying to kick her off.
“I give,” Steve rasps out, tapping with his free hand against the mat.
Natasha immediately lets go, and stands, grabbing her towel from the corner of the mat. “What is it, Captain?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve replies, clambering to his feet a bit more slowly than he hoped. She really went all-out this time.
“You’re a super soldier, I’m sure you can take it,” she answers dryly. She won’t look at Steve as she dabs the sweat from her brow.
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Steve adds, chuckling and slightly winded.
He steps towards Natasha, and she whips her head around, throwing her towel back where it was. There’s a renewed fire in her eyes. It takes Steve a second, but he realizes round two is about to begin.
Natasha’s using the elasticity of the mat to project herself at Steve, and he can’t do anything but raise his arms to avoid getting kicked in the face and ribs – those are her favourite places to aim for. She huffs, more vocal than she would be any day, and crouches down, sweeping Steve’s legs out from under him.
He lands in an awkward way, and lets out a yelp from the pain coursing through his elbow. It’s really not a funny bone. Natasha’s relentless as she straddles his waist, using his injury to her advantage, successfully blocking Steve’s airway with his own bulked up arm.
This time Steve manages to buck her off, and pins her with his weight. She tries to get her legs out from under Steve to kick him away, or at least wrap around his shoulders and neck, but he’s seated too heavily on her. Natasha growls and scratches at Steve’s arms until he’s forced to hold her wrists above her head.
“Are we going to talk about it calmly, Natasha?” Steve says, his face reddening from exertion. She’s really not an easy opponent to beat.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Natasha retorts, her even tone at odds with the scowl on her face.
Steve laughs softly. “Then why did you consider gouging my eyes out for a second there? I’m pretty sure that’s not nothing.”
Natasha’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth to protest, but quickly changes tactics. “What are your terms?”
“Terms?” Steve quirks a brow, a lazy smile on his face.
“I’m already compromised. What will it take for you to keep this between us?” She explains, visibly stiffening against the mat. She’s not good at admitting defeat, and probably never will be.
“Nothing, Natasha,” Steve replies softly, taken aback by her defensive tone. “You can trust me. I wouldn’t tell anyone.” He considers letting her wrists go, but thinks better of it. She could still decide to pluck his eyes out. “I just want to know what’s bothering you.”
“Do I have to tell you everything?” She sighs, looking away.
Steve does let go of her wrists then, but keeps her trapped with his body. “Of course not. Whatever you want to.”
Natasha rubs her wrist, eyeing Steve like she can’t trust him as far as she can spit. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping.” She pushes at Steve’s chest gently, trying to get him off her.
“No, I don’t think so. You’ll just run away or knock me unconscious and then run,” Steve says sternly, crossing his arms. “Go on.”
“That’s all I want to say,” she replies firmly, trying to push Steve off again with a palm to his shoulder.
Steve catches her wrist; he wants to help with what’s keeping her up at night, but he doesn’t persist. He told her she could say what she wanted and that’d be the end of it, so he’ll keep to his word. He lets her go and starts to climb off, but she grabs his arm abruptly, making him lose his balance.
For all of a second, Steve’s afraid round three is on its way until Natasha’s eyes flutter closed, and she leans up to take his lips between her own. It’s rough and precise like everything else Natasha does, but there’s a delicacy to it that only a woman can provide. It’s only the second time Steve’s ever kissed a woman, but he’s starting to wonder if they’re all pros at tearing him apart.
She pulls away, breathing deeply. “You really don’t want to know anything else?”
Natasha has always been told what to do and how to think. And when that wasn’t the case, she’d be ordered to keep her mouth shut and bury her feelings under years of assassination experience. There was never someone like Captain America around – strong and humane – giving her the option to put on a brave face or to let someone in.
He steadies himself by resting an arm against the mat. “Of course I do. But I won’t force you to--”
Kindness like his is not something you acquire in Natasha’s line of work; it’s something you are born with, it’s a gift. And often a curse as well. Natasha can see that he means what he says, that he truly cares about her pain, her past, her as a person rather than simply as a weapon to be wielded.
It’s enough for her. That’s all she needs to know. Soon she’ll be able to tell him, but for now--
Natasha drags Steve in for another kiss, this time wrapping her legs around him, forcing his body closer to hers. She scrapes her nails down Steve’s back and laughs darkly when Steve lets out a sound a tad bit high for a man his size. Then there are lips on his neck, on his chest, fingers clawing at his shirt, a writhing body beneath him, and it’s really going too fast. Steve needs to soak it all in.
Steve moves away reluctantly, not wanting to end up a drooling mess on the mat for saying the wrong thing. “Is this what you need? I want to help you, Natasha.” Natasha looks softer, content, even offering the leader a small smile. Steve cups her cheek. “If you’d rather talk, I’m here for that.”
Steve’s trying to make sense of this situation, but he has no experience to draw from. Peggy was it, and even that didn’t go far beyond a professional relationship. This is the closest he’s ever been to a woman since, and Natasha knows what she’s doing. But this isn’t what he was offering. He wants to be her friend, her shoulder to lean on. Wasn’t that what women always wanted? Companionship rather than sexuality? Has he got it all wrong, and all that has changed in the 70 years he’s been asleep? It wouldn’t be the first time.
Natasha kisses the fingers close to her mouth, sliding her tongue along Steve’s thumb. She seems intent on driving him mad with desire, but he just needs to be sure this isn’t an act. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out for some coffee?”
If he were any other person and it were any other day, she’d be convinced he was just as skilled as Tony at getting into women’s pants. But as it stands, this is the super soldier who puts his life on the line day in and day out, fighting for all the things that have long since disappeared in the world. And, if anyone deserves to get into someone’s pants, it’s definitely Steve.
“I’m not much for talking, but thanks, Steve.” Natasha bites her lip when she sees the flush across Steve’s face from finally being called by his first name. He’s almost too sweet to be a superhero. “I feel much better now.” And it’s not a lie for once.
‘Okay’ would have been his response, but instead it’s ‘oof’ when she switches their positions and drops on top of him like deadweight. Her hips roll at a languid, maddeningly slow pace with just enough friction for Steve’s erection to catch between her spread thighs. Natasha grins when she dives in for another kiss, dragging her fingers across Steve’s scalp and relishing in every little, embarrassing sound she can squeeze out of the first Avenger.
But come on, who else could say they’ve ridden Captain America like a horse?
Natasha takes off her shirt and bra, and then tugs at Steve’s t-shirt. Steve freezes, grabbing her fingers gently.
“What? We don’t have much time. Someone else could come down, Steve.”
Steve bodily shudders and Natasha smirks, dragging his shirt all the way off when he nods in approval. She doesn’t waste any time tugging off his gray jogging pants, and shimmying out of her own black ones.
That’s when time slows to a halt.
Natasha is beautiful, absolutely stunning inside and out. Steve wants to admire her, feel every inch of skin, and have the taste of this woman on his tongue for days. He wants to make her feel special because she is, and she deserves to know that she’s a good person. If nothing else, he wants to distract her from her sadness, and let her know through touch that he’ll always be around for her.
Pressing soft kisses to her jaw, neck and collarbone, Steve explores the body laid above him as Natasha sighs quietly. Steve continues to lavish her skin with attention, printing patterns across her shoulders, down her chest, reaching up to cup her breasts tentatively. She sucks in a breath, but rocks her hips against him when his digits circle and press against her nipples. That’s more than enough incentive for her to even up the game. She snakes a hand between their bodies while he leans in to kiss each of her breasts.
Although Steve is trying to enjoy the sight of a real, live naked woman, she’s making it hard for him since said woman is suddenly stroking his cock. She bends in a way that is completely unknown to Steve’s world, and licks a wet stripe along the underside of his length. And that’s when his skin starts vibrating with want.
“Think you can last a few minutes?” Natasha teases, standing just long enough for Steve to melt at the sight of her perky breasts and hardened pink nipples, then slides off her underwear, and puts it with her pants. “Ready?”
Steve hasn’t even answered the first question. He isn’t sure if he was meant to, but surely he can answer this one--
Natasha lowers herself onto Steve’s cock, nothing but her earlier saliva to ease the way at first. It’s so tight, so warm, and it’s getting wet. And slick. All language is abruptly lost to him.
Steve’s eyes roll back in his head because the pressure around him is amazing and ten million times better than using his hand and some lotion. She presses both palms to his chest, raising her hips up and down his shaft, her head tipping forward every time Steve feels like he can’t be any deeper inside her. Steve struggles to make his limbs move, but when he finally does, her reaction alone is worth the amount of effort it took.
His fingers trace her hips slowly and he meets her down movement with a thrust upwards, causing a sharp moan to stutter out of Natasha’s parted lips. He chews on his lip, squeezing her waist tight with each thrust until she collapses forward, letting Steve do all the work.
“Come on, Steve, harder. I can take it. Harder!” If that’s what’ll make Natasha happy, then that’s what he’ll do.
Steve rolls them over, taking this chance to admire her further as she writhes below him, whining for him to go faster, fuck harder, go deeper, and then, you won’t hurt me. Steve leans in, holding her face, kissing her, driving his hips in as far as he can. His skin is chafing from the friction on the mat, probably going to leave behind some nasty red marks. It doesn’t matter though because his stomach is tightening, his balls are pulling, moving in close to his body, his head is spinning and he’s spilling into Natasha – into another human being – for the first time in his life.
Steve’s sad for a moment when he considers he never had a chance to try this with Peggy. Natasha is like her in more ways than one, and reminds him of her at the strangest of times.
The last thrust must have been particularly hard because Natasha flings her head back, a cry forming on her lips but never making it out of her throat, her whole body tensing. And then she’s completely limp, satisfied.
Now that they’re spent, she clings to Steve for a moment, limbs trembling and sweaty, and Steve hums, not wanting to move, enjoying the intimacy. After the moment’s passed and Steve starts kissing her neck, she reaches down to pull Steve’s length out of her, and ends up with sticky, white strings between her fingers.
“You want my shirt?” Steve whispers, memorizing Natasha’s surprisingly open expression (and, secretly, the taste of her).
Natasha shakes her head but doesn’t tear her eyes away. She licks her lips to get his attention drawn there, and dips her fingers in her mouth, sucking them clean. “Wanna go again, Steve?”
And Steve isn’t about to say no to seeing more of this Natasha.
They have a conversation while breathless, and more or less clothed, still lying on the mat together.
Steve pets Natasha’s hair as she explains that her father was a high placed criminal boss who had her trained as an infant to murder their competition. She explains how she had to learn to slit people’s throats and break limbs efficiently when she was only fifteen, with an almost disturbing detachedness to her tone. Steve knows it isn’t her fault she’s as unaffected as she is, but he wishes he could make her understand that it will never be like that again.
She reaches for Steve’s free hand, lacing their fingers, looking up at him with a lopsided smile and an innocence he didn’t even know she could have. It’s heartbreaking to imagine what a ten year old Natasha would have looked like, waiting against a wall for her target, when she should have been playing hide and seek.
“I hope you know this doesn’t mean we’re dating or anything,” Natasha says suddenly, jolting Steve out of the thought.
“It doesn’t?” Steve had a feeling it didn’t, but he could always hope he was wrong.
Natasha’s expression turns very serious. “I’m sorry if you thought it did. I just wanted to give you something fun.” She traces Steve’s bottom lip gently. “I don’t want to get attached to anyone like that, Steve. It has nothing to do with you. I want to concentrate on our work, on my career.”
“I understand, Natasha,” Steve replies, one side of his mouth raising. “Don’t worry.”
“We can still be friends, right?” Natasha smiles, squeezing his hand once. “If we are friends?”
“Of course,” he says without apprehension. “I’d love that. I haven’t had a friend in a while.”
Natasha shifts onto Steve’s chest, letting him stroke her hair a while longer. Steve doesn’t regret what they’ve done together because, despite them not being in love, they’ve shared something and acquired a new part to their bond. She is very much like Peggy, more than Steve originally thought, and he loves Natasha for that – even if perhaps it’s too soon to say.
Natasha spends more time socializing in the entertainment room after the intense ‘workout’ with Steve. It allows Clint and her to discuss weird, deadly fight moves they’ve used on enemies in past missions. The kind of thing you would expect in a video game like Mortal Kombat, not in real life.
Thor listens with a bit too much attention for someone who can conjure lightning as easily as flicking a switch. Tony passes by, grimaces, and goes straight into the kitchen for some coffee. Bruce is already in the kitchen when he arrives and hands him a cup, following him out as they go to the R&D floor – as usual.
Steve notices all this because he draws it, paints it early in the morning when he has time to himself. But one thing he doesn’t see is Coulson joining in.
Later that evening, Steve is heading back to his room when he hears someone clear his throat behind him. Coulson is shifting his weight from either foot, smiling up at Steve like he’s the idol he has been worshipping for years. It makes Steve’s head hurt; he’s nothing more than a kid from Brooklyn.
“Hey Coulson,” Steve says. “Didn’t see you around all day.”
“I was… around.” Phil smiles, coughing to cover up his embarrassment. “I just wanted to thank you for signing my cards.”
“It was no problem--”
Coulson steps forward, pulling them out of his pocket and showing them to Steve. Pointing to them as he says, “I mean it. You’re a real hero, Cap.” He laughs, pushing his cards back in his pants. “I was so happy when Fury let me live under the same roof as you.”
“Come on, Coulson.” Steve claps Coulson on the back. “I’m just a regular guy. You should be impressed with Tony or Thor or Bruce, not me.”
“No!” Coulson looks down, shuffling his feet. “They’re not like you. You’re special. You care about people. You even care about me, and I don’t think most of them do.”
“That’s not true,” Steve replies sternly, “I’m sure the whole team is happy to have you around.”
Coulson smiles when he looks up at Steve, but his gaze never quite reaches eye-level. Steve watches him lick his lips subconsciously, and can practically hear what Coulson’s thinking. Coulson’s face colours with red when he realizes how obvious he’s being, but Steve really doesn’t see the harm in giving this man – his biggest fan – something he’s probably too afraid to ask for. He can consider it a token of Captain America’s gratitude.
Steve leans down, curling his fingers at the back of Coulson’s neck, and leading him in for a slow, gentle kiss. Probably too gentle for two men to be, but what does Steve know about sex (besides what Natasha taught him)? And besides, it’s just a kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?
Coulson’s face is crimson when Steve pulls away, his eyes wide and almost frightened. His body goes limp as he faints right then and there, crumpling against his most beloved hero.
Well, that’s most likely the worst that could have happened.
Two things bother Steve for the following week.
The first is that Steve actually kissed a man, a fan of his no less, and didn’t quite dislike it as much as he expected to. He had just wanted to give Coulson something back for making him feel worth something. And when Coulson displayed the need for physical attention, Steve lunged at the opportunity. Maybe spending so much time in Natasha’s company wasn’t the best choice of action – what with her never voicing things, and Steve having to guess the right thing to do each time.
Considering he had only kissed one woman in his time, Steve really didn’t understand the norms of society nowadays, especially involving sex. Natasha had barely given Steve more than an inkling as to why she wanted to copulate (do people use that term?) in the gym, and even then, he didn’t quite understand what ‘corrupting an innocent’ meant.
And although Tony made it blatantly clear that his tower was a judgment-free, loving place to reside, Steve didn’t quite believe that the rest of New York was so open to homosexual relations. When Tony and Natasha both admitted to being bisexual as their argument, Steve nearly fell off the kitchen stool.
Things like that weren’t uttered so casually, nor usually mentioned at all in his day. But times have changed, and Steve has always been a bit more adventurous than the people he knew, so maybe it’s not such a big deal that he kissed Coulson.
Everyone is basically the same deep down.
The second thing that bothers Steve is that everyone – and that includes Fury who doesn’t even live in the tower – knows about the incident with Coulson, and refers to it as Captain America’s finishing move.
Steve isn’t very up-to-date on many things (see: all) technological, but Clint had explained that it was a reference to combative video games – with an unnecessary amount of giggling. It’s bad enough that Steve’s body decided things before his mind caught up with it, but for everyone to constantly pucker their lips when they see him in the kitchen, in the hall, in the gym, on the field, in his room – everywhere! – is just adding insult to injury.
When Tony slips in to Steve’s room one night, and hands him a box with a gold bow, Steve’s immediate reaction is to throw it away. But no, Steve is the designated martyr of the house, the victim of the month (even though he wasn’t the one who fainted). And he opens it like the fool he is, only to find condoms of every shape and size – and flavour – waiting for him. And just in case that wouldn’t ruin Steve’s libido for eternity, Tony wrote a note.
“Read it,” Tony chides, picking lint off his shirt, face perfectly unreadable thanks to his shades.
Steve does, but only because he’s come this far already. He makes sure to glare extra hard at the same time, just so Tony knows he’s on to him. No point on holding on to the last of his dignity. Tony certainly doesn’t bother with nonsense like that.
Now that you’re all grown up, you might need to wrap up your junk.
You don’t want to get Natasha pregnant, do you?
And I’m pretty sure Coulson has a vagina as well.
Anal sex can get kinda messy, so use the reinforced ones.
From your sexual mentor,
Steve’s skin is scorching hot, and he knows how that must look. Tony’s face seems like it’s going to crack from the sheer intensity of his guileless smirk. “You can thank me later when you don’t have herpes, Cap.”
Steve scowls and throws the box at Tony who moves out of the way just in time, but he runs out of Steve’s room when he sees Steve stand. When Tony is laughing down the hall, Jarvis congratulates Steve on scaring him away, but ruins the moment by also saying that Tony is right.
Too bad Steve can’t throw something at Jarvis.
At the very least, Steve can count on Coulson – might as well call him Phil after what happened – doing his job finally, and putting the Avengers in their place, while keeping them from constantly dogging Steve about that kiss. (Steve is almost 100% sure Phil is the one that told Fury. That’s most likely why he feels responsible, and is, consequently, helping out now.)
Steve’s goal had been to make the entire team feel comfortable, and in a way they really do, but only when it comes to mocking their leader. They still aren’t very good with deeper interaction and cooperation. Not as good as they should be. Not how a team would require it on the field.
Natasha only ever opens up to Clint (or Steve, after sex oddly) when she has nightmares about her past and the family she left behind in Russia. She allows Tony to get inside her mind at times, only because she knows he doesn’t really do the whole emotions and caring thing, and he won’t prod further than a stranger would; they have that in common.
Thor is oblivious, completely and without a doubt, so there’s no hope of him ever noticing her mood shifts. And even if he does, he seems to have been raised not to try and initiate help unless the woman asks for it. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with any of the members, but there are constant misunderstands as to Midgardian customs that Thor shouldn’t ignore. Steve isn’t so sure arguing with a god is a good idea, so he’ll let it slip for a while longer.
Bruce spends far too much time in his personal lab to notice much of anything, unfortunately. That in itself is a problem; the team can’t get close to him even when he’s not slaving away on a formula to control his transformation into the Hulk. Tony was the first to make contact with Bruce, but he’s not made much progress since – mainly because of his not wanting to deal with feelings issue again. Natasha won’t approach unless asked, and Thor breaks too many beakers when he goes into the lab, so he’s been banished.
Clint is always up somewhere. At times he’s sitting on the antique chandelier – until Tony screams bloody murder, and Clint zip-lines down – other times he’s at the top of the staircase that leads from the bedrooms to the entertainment room, just watching. He only comes down when he notices Natasha’s a bit shaken up from a dream she had, if there’s a movie he likes on TV, or when he needs to eat. Steve suspects he often sleeps on the roof of the tower, but he can’t be sure (and doesn’t want to check because, frankly, heights scare him since Bucky).
So where does Steve start? There are so many people, so many problems, so many different masks, and not enough hours in one day for him to build all these bridges alone. He’ll just have to pick the next person to approach him and go from there.
Steve looks over at his clock the next morning and it tells him it’s 5am. In other words, the alarm’s not due to ring for another three hours. He should be tired, having only slept four hours, but he’s not. Thank you once again fantastic serum? Not that the cause matters when Steve doesn’t need any more sleep.
It’s Saturday and Steve really doesn’t feel like showering and getting dressed yet. Coffee seems like a much better idea, especially since he can spend the extra hours contemplating his course of action on the Avengers dilemma.
When Steve steps out of his room in his sleepwear (thin jogging pants and a T-shirt), he doesn’t expect Clint to be awake at the top of the stairs – which happen to be across from Steve’s room, and the only way to the kitchen – looking more serious than called for at this time of day.
“Morning,” Steve says softly, not wanting to startle him or wake everyone up.
“Hey, Cap.” Clint grins, the earlier expression disappearing so quickly Steve wonders if it was ever there.
Steve closes his bedroom door, and puts a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Something wake you up? Wanna talk about it over breakfast?”
Clint shakes his head, smiling at least. “Nah. Don’t worry your pretty little head, Cap. But I could do with some grub.”
Steve learns a few things that morning.
Sometimes the world makes decisions for you – as in the case of Clint being the next person that Steve will build a relationship with and try to understand. And the other thing Steve finds out is that Clint has a filthy, disturbing mouth and sense of humour once he gets started. And clearly the time of day has no effect on it whatsoever.
Perhaps Steve is considered a prude for the year 2012, and that could be part of why he ends up sputtering milk down his chin during breakfast, but something about what Clint is saying convinces Steve he wouldn’t be the only one startled by the rude comments.
“So I heard ‘Tasha made use of your dick, Cap,” Clint says, slurping on a spoonful of milk noisily. He looks up after a moment. “What was that like? I’ve always wondered how she is in the sack.”
Steve probably shouldn’t be surprised Natasha told her closest friend that she’d slept with him, but he expected a bit more discretion at least. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing my sex life, Clint. Besides, it wouldn’t be very nice to Natasha.”
Clint snorts, dipping his spoon in the milk. “I already know all the details, man. I just wanted to know if you liked it as much as she did.”
No answer may be the best answer in this case. Besides, Steve can’t seem to get saliva back in his mouth.
Laughing and tapping a hand on the table, Clint breaks the awkward silence. “I’m just busting your balls, Cap. She’s not that kinda girl. Plus, she knows I couldn’t keep it secret long.” He brings his bowl up to his mouth, finishing the milk. “She was walking weird for a few hours, though. Did the serum affect your dick, too, or something?”
Burning with heat spreading across his cheekbones, Steve clears his throat and says, “I don’t think it did. It just made it proportionate to the rest of me.”
Clint tilts his head in a way that reminds Steve too much of how Natasha had looked before she’d ravished his mouth, and it makes Steve suddenly very nervous of it happening out in the open this time. Instead, Clint just drops his bowl in the dishwasher, and steps out of the kitchen without uttering another word.
What just happened?