#1-161 stony ficlet challenge
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159 or 139 for the ficlet please!
(Also, do these numbers correspond or a prompt or are we just winging it here, curious minds would like to know how this lottery is working 馃)
These numbers correspond to a prompt set which I can post a link to after this is done but I wanted the randomness of it. No offense but you guys always go for the same prompts (which don't get me wrong, make sense for the characters/my writing) but I wanted to stretch some writing muscles!!!! So I anonymized the list :3c
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Steve groaned when he realized he couldn't ignore the constant pinging of his phone anymore. It had well and truly rung through his half-dozing state. He pushed himself up, popping each vertebrae as he attempted to blink the sleep out of his eyes, then yawned, loud, and scrubbed at his eyes.
He took a glance around his room, then squinted in confusion when he saw his lamp had been knocked off the bedside table, there was a... sock? On the ceiling fan? And the ceiling fan was askew, the edges of the blades scraping the paint off on one side and nearly low enough to clip his hair on the other. He stared at it, mouth hanging open in confusion, especially as it finally registered that it was not a sock hanging from the fan, but a ripped pair of tights.
Steve grabbed his phone, still staring at the tights, as he wondered how, exactly, they'd been ripped right down the middle of the crotch and where, exactly, the other half was. He found it as he rolled onto his back to check his phone, one end tied to the foot board of his bed, the other tied around his ankle. He blinked slowly, then thumbed his phone open, peering at the notifications.
[Bucky]
If you don't respond, I'm calling the cops
Steve blinked again, then sent a simple 'responding' and scrolled up to see what was going on. He came to the conclusion that he'd disappeared halfway through a party. Bucky and Natasha's engagement party, maybe? They were celebrating something, he remembered. The first messages has been teasing, calling him a curmudgeonly old man, then jokes about him getting lucky, then concern as he'd never replied to any of them. He flipped back to Bucky's messages.
[Me]
Yo what happened
My lamp's broken? And my ceiling fan? I'm tied to the bed kinda.
He looked around again just for good measure, then did a double-take at his sheets. He snapped a picture and sent it along as well.
[Me]
Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.
Bucky's response came only a few seconds later.
[Bucky]
Oh my god the stripper??????????????!
I wondered what happened to him!!!!!!
"The stripper?" Steve asked, squinting at the screen in confusion.
The door to his bathroom opened, and a man stepped out, naked as the day he was born. He was beautifully damp. He had a towel wrapped around his hair. Steve understood, suddenly, why half a pair of tights were on the ceiling fan. He immediately wanted to fuck this man so athletically that the other half snapped off his leg and flew onto the ceiling fan too.
"I ordered breakfast," the man said casually, pulling a duffel bag from... somewhere. "It should be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm Tony, by the way," he added, picking a pair of briefs out of the bag.
"You don't have to put those on, Tony," Steve offered, instead of doing the polite thing of offering his name back, or asking if he wanted anything else.
Tony let out a bark of laughter. "Just as charming as last night," he teased, shaking his head.
God, Steve hoped he'd been charming last night. "So... were we introduced last night?" he asked carefully. "And you thought I forgot your name?"
"I was introduced as Bambi last night," Tony said, offering him a smirk. "And you waxed poetic about my big brown eyes until I basically had no choice but to fall into bed with you."
"Bambi," Steve repeated, and then, louder, "Ooooh, Bambi." Suddenly he remembered exactly what had happened last night, up to and including how his room had gotten messed up, and it had started with Tony finally asking, 'Does that make you Faline? Or are you more of a Ronno?' and Steve just picking him up and carrying him toward the door as Tony giggled in his arms.
Well. Food was coming. He'd have time to convince Tony he was more than just a fan of brown eyes. Tony had a cheeky smile. He found those always seemed to get him into trouble in the best way.
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92 or 14 maybe? 馃
Going with 14!
--
Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.
Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"
"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.
It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.
Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.
It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?
Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.
Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.
"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."
"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.
"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"
"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.
"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."
Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.
"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.
"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."
There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.
Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.
"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.
"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"
If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.
But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."
"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.
Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.
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i'm not sure if tumblr is lying to me or not about when you responded to my ask but i only just got the notification for it, so. if you're still doing the 1-161 stony ficlet challenge, can i request 123 if that one hasn't also been taken? ps i'm really loving the ones you've posted so far, they're great! <3
Thanks! It's been a lot of fun!
--
Steve grit his teeth as Tony carefully, casually prodded his thigh with the toe of his left foot again. They were fighting, and he couldn't tell if this was an olive branch or a deliberate attempt to make him lose his cool.
They didn't fight often. They argued a lot, of course. He and Tony both had very strong personalities, and they also had very strong opinions. More difficult still, Steve was from a different time, and while he'd made great strides in acclimating himself to the time (and while Tony had been very patient as he learned) some things he said and believed still had them butting heads sometimes.
Tony prodded his thigh again, and Steve sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He would not give Tony the satisfaction of reacting.
"I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention," Tony finally declared, prodding him again.
"We are fighting and I'm still mad at you," Steve answered curtly, looking back down at his book. He figured that was attention enough, with the mood he was in and their fight still hovering at the edges of their conversations.
The ball of Tony's foot stayed pressed to his thigh a moment longer before he slowly drew it back. "Oh. Sorry."
Steve slanted his gaze over at that, brows furrowing together at the tone of Tony's voice. It was the one he used when he knew he'd misstepped but didn't understand why. He looked genuinely upset before his emotional shutters came back down as he returned his gaze to his tablet. He pulled his feet in closer, tucking himself tighter into the corner of the couch.
Steve watched him, considering, then carefully asked, "We... are still fighting, aren't we?"
"Of course. Obviously," Tony scoffed, prodding at his screen a little harder than he usually might.
Steve waited a beat, but Tony didn't plow on like he usually did when he was angry. He'd had no problem shouting for hours yesterday, but Steve had no doubt he'd come up with new things to shout if he was still very upset. He cast around his mind for what Tony's sudden change in heart and remembered, frowning, that Colonel Rhodes had huffed out a frustrated, 'well, his parents never apologized to each other, at least not in front of him, so he thinks fights just stop eventually and you carry on as usual.'
Tony must have just been... ready for things to carry on as usual. Steve set his book in his lap and sighed again, tipping his head against the back of the couch. He'd been the second one to sit down on the couch. Tony must have thought that was an olive branch. And maybe it had been, he realized, turning to look at Tony again. Maybe, unconsciously, he'd been ready to end the fight, too. But not like Tony wanted, where they simply stopped talking about it and returned to life as normal.
"I'm sorry," Steve said, because he was. His ma always said it took two people to fight, after all.
Tony prodded at his tablet a couple more times, then turned his head a little, peering at him out of the corner of his eye. "...For what?" he finally asked, skeptical.
"For fighting," Steve answered simply. He'd learned early on that if he said too much, Tony would have more to read into.
Tony turned his head away, then looked back at him, eyes narrowed. "...I'm... sorry... too," he finally said, slowly, like he was waiting for Steve to spring some sort of trap after each word.
It hurt a little, Steve could admit to himself. But luckily, he'd learned that it wasn't his own shortcomings as a boyfriend that caused Tony to be suspicious of something he thought was a good thing; the lists of people who had hurt Tony in the past were all available online, after all. Not necessarily under that label, but Steve was pretty good at reading between the lines.
And it was a step in the right direction, Steve figured. Acknowledging their wrongs to each other was certainly better than just letting them go unsaid. They could have a discussion about it later, when the hurt wasn't so fresh and they had time to decompress.
Until then, Steve reached out to grab Tony's ankle and drag his leg back out, and Tony squawked as he was pulled across the cushions. "C'mere."
"Brute!" Tony howled, trying to claw his way back across the couch, but Steve's grip on his leg was immovable. "Stop fucking dragging me everywhere you want me, you neanderthal, I--"
"You what?" Steve asked, flipping him easily, and immediately dug his thumbs into Tony's arch, exactly where he knew Tony got sorest. Tony let out a moan, and Steve knew he had won, at least for the moment.
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69 馃馃馃
There were eight 69's in my inbox I just want you all to know.
--
"Hey, um, so, hello," someone said, voice cracking.
Steve blinked slowly, not quite understanding. He'd heard that tone of voice before, but never directed at him. Normally Thor, or Bucky, or even Natasha, when she was wearing a tank-top that showed off her arms. Someone seeking help, needing muscle. Steve was scrappy, but he also wasn't the first person anyone ever turned to for help. He turned, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
The man who had sidled up to him was wearing clothes way too nice for the bar Steve and his friends called home base. As he watched, the man shifted, and he saw a peek of a red sole on the bottom of his shoe. His watch looked expensive, too. He bet the guy's buttons were more expensive than some of the liquor behind the bar.
"Hello," Steve answered belatedly.
"I'm gonna be frank with you," the man said, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "My ex is following me. I have a restraining order and the police are on the way but. You know. New York. So. Just pretend to be my date? Please? So I don't look like I'm wandering around helplessly. I need to look like I came here on purpose."
"Okay," Steve answered, the novelty of the request sort of making everything else absorb slowly. Then the rest of what the man said hit him, and he straightened up from where he'd been slouching over his beer. "Restraining order?!"
"You said okay no take-backs," the man answered, eyes darting back and forth as if he was already choosing someone else to ask if Steve really said no. "I'm Tony. Can we hold hands? Or. Like. I can go. Is there a bathroom here? Is there a window in it?"
Tony was panicking, Steve realized. He was about to shake out of his skin. Whoever his ex was, he was really scared. And he should be, Steve figured belatedly. From what he'd been told, restraining orders could be hard to get.
He reached out, bypassing Tony's trembling hand to instead grab Tony's chin, gently forcing him to turn to face him. "I'm Steve," he offered kindly. "Hi, Tony."
Tony squeaked, cheeks taking on a pink tinge. "Hi," he managed, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
"Don't worry," Steve told him, trying to convey that no matter what, here, he'd be safe. If Steve couldn't protect him, his friends were here to take up for Tony instead. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Tony exhaled shakily. Steve took a moment to wonder if it was from relief or if it had anything to do with the shocked blush on his cheeks. Now probably wasn't the time to figure it out, he lamented, even as he stood from his stool to offer it to Tony and subtly waved over at Bucky and Clint by the dart board. They noticed, and Clint got Natasha's attention where she was talking with Maria and Sharon.
Good. Everyone was on alert.
Steve turned his attention back to Tony, giving him a kind smile. "So. Can't say I've ever been someone's first choice when it comes to choosing a fake boyfriend."
Tony swiveled his gaze away from the menu to blink at him, stunned. "Why? You're very cute."
It shocked a laugh out of Steve. "Yeah, but I don't look very strong," he offered.
"...I don't. Want him to go after you," Tony answered after a brief, uncomfortable pause. "He'll just feel sorry for you. That I'm your date. So."
Steve bit back the urge to grip his hands into fists. "...Hmm," he offered, instead of 'what the fuck' or 'lemme at him.' He patted the back of Tony's hand soothingly. "Well. If he says even one thing wrong, rest assured, my fists are up."
"Huh?" Tony asked, but Steve just patted his hand again.
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13, because it's my favorite number!
Steve was ashamed to admit it, but he'd never once thought to worry about Tony's health. Sure, sometimes Tony overworked himself, but it seemed impossible for him not to, with his company and SHIELD and the Avengers to work for, and the one time Pepper had mentioned stepping back, he'd shot her a look of such disdain out of the corner of his eye that everyone in the room felt the need to apologize for the suggestion.
And it wasn't like Tony was bad at taking care of himself, at least these days. He attempted to keep to a regular sleep schedule. He had a varied diet, but most times Steve noticed him gravitating to the healthier options anyway. On the days he had nothing but busywork scheduled, he managed to squeeze in an hour at the gym. He even scheduled rest time for himself (and Steve could admit, if he counted their date nights, he had a lot more relaxing time than his schedule reflected).
On top of that, Tony seemed... impossible to knock down? He complained when he was tired, but for the most part, he acted his same old self. He'd never even gotten a cold in the six years Steve had known him.
That was apparently by design, though, and Steve kicked himself for not taking the slight hesitation in Tony's movements before he reached out for Nathaniel, snot and all, to bounce on his knee more seriously.
"The responsibility for my weakened immune system is mine," Tony said, and he sounded so reasonable, but all Steve could do was stare at the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, because he was on his second week recovering from pneumonia. His left hand was held between both of Steve's own, and it took everything in him not to squeeze it tight. "Steve. I never told anyone about my health problems. It's not just you."
"I--" Know was on the tip of his tongue. Tony's health information was private. Had been even before Iron Man. But Steve couldn't bring himself to say it. He should have been watching. He should have realized. Tony washed his hands and disinfected things more than anyone he ever knew, but he'd thought that was rich-person eccentricity. Not health consciousness. "You can't die," he finally croaked, leaning down so he could press his forehead to the back of Tony's hand. "Please don't die."
It wasn't what he wanted to say, wasn't the proper way to convey what he meant. But he didn't know the words. All he could think about was waking up to a weak, wheezy, 'Steve, call an ambulance' as Tony burned hot beside him. All he could think about was what if he hadn't woken up. It had barely been loud enough for his enhanced hearing to hear. JARVIS wouldn't have been able to catch it and call for help himself.
He could have lost him.
When he finally lifted his head to check if Tony had fallen asleep, because he hadn't answered, he found Tony simply staring at him, blinks slow and syrupy. He sucked in a sharp breath. Tony didn't need this. He was recovering. Steve should have waited until he felt better to bring this up, wait until he was comfortable back at home--
"You're so young," Tony murmured, and Steve's breath caught in his throat. "I'm sorry I never noticed, Steve. I'll try harder to tell you these things, okay?"
"I don't want you to do something you're uncomfortable with," Steve managed, then bit his bottom lip against any other words.
Tony's mouth curved up into a wry smile. "I think my fiance should know everything about me, even the uncomfortable things."
Steve blinked at him, frowning. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. He opened his mouth, closed it. Then he choked out, "You did not just propose to me from your hospital bed."
"Is that a no?" Tony asked, brows furrowing together in concern.
"No, we're getting married, no take-backs. I'm just so... So. I'm just fucking so," Steve choked out, bringing Tony's hand up to his face again so he could press a trembling kiss to his knuckles. "I should go get the the chaplain right now. Serve you right to get married in this bed."
Tony laughed, and then he coughed, and Steve decided not to tease him about getting married in the hospital again until he was off oxygen at least.
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132?
"Steve?" Tony croaked, and then, louder, more distressed, "Steve?!"
Steve fought the urge to hold him tighter. His hands were numb, and the numbness was starting to spread up his arms, too cold even for gooseflesh to rise along his skin. He couldn't risk hurting Tony when he was already injured. "Tony."
"Where are we? What happened? Why are--it's so cold," Tony asked in a rush. He squirmed in Steve's hold. "Did we... did we have a mission?"
"I thought I lost you," Steve whispered into the back of his neck. "I still might. We're snowed into a cave. I didn't get a chance to send an emergency signal."
"Oh," Tony murmured, squirming slowing to a stop.
"That missile hit you, and you fell like a stone. I thought you'd died. But I was already so cold that I couldn't tell when I finally got to the armor. I'm so glad you're awake."
"...So..." Tony began slowly. "You didn't even know if you were holding a corpse?"
Steve flinched, burying his face in Tony's back with a shuddering sigh. No. He didn't. The snow was already coming down heavily, visibility was down, he'd lost feeling in his hands trying to tear the icing armor off of Tony, and he'd worried that the warmth of Tony's body against his numb fingers had been because he was so cold. Tony had gotten colder. He'd thought maybe he hadn't had a heart beat left to heat him, even as he'd hoped it was just a normal reaction to the cold.
He would have held Tony until he was torn from his hands, though. Maybe even longer, if he still had strength.
"Okay," Tony said, voice soothing, when Steve couldn't bring himself to answer verbally. "Okay. I still have my watch gauntlet. I can send a beacon that way. We're gonna be okay, Steve." He shifted in Steve's arms. "Is this--is this your top? Did you put it on me to keep me warm? Steve. You'll freeze."
"I survived it once before," Steve answered mulishly, but only realized just how terrible it sounded when Tony couldn't help an overwhelmed sob in response. The knowledge that Steve would strip off a desperately needed layer to put on someone he thought was dead, just in case, and end up freezing to death himself... it was probably shocking. Heartbreaking, maybe, if he allowed himself to think about it too much.
He didn't tell Tony that he would do it again in a heartbeat. That seemed like too much when he was cold and injured.
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142 for the stony ficlet thing!
Steve hummed as Tony began to shift beside him. Tony was a warm weight on top of his arm, breath puffing softly against his chest. He curled his arm in a little, pulling Tony closer so he could bury his face in his hair.
"Mmh," Tony grunted, and Steve felt his eyelashes against his skin as Tony's eyes fluttered open. "You're still here?"
Steve blinked, frowning, then ground his teeth against a sting of hurt. "Did you really think I'd leave?"
Tony tipped his head back to meet his eyes, eyelids still heavy with sleep. "You'd be the first not to."
Sleep made Tony honest, Steve thought, lifting his other hand to gently press the backs of his fingers to Tony's cheek. He couldn't imagine Tony ever admitting that if he were fully awake. He watched Tony lean into his touch, rubbing his cheek against his fingers like an affectionate cat, and wondered how the fuck anyone had managed to leave a bed with Tony in it.
He wanted to ask. He wanted to know how many people had left Tony to find the other side of the bed cold, hand reaching out for a body that wasn't there. He wanted to know if Tony just expected him to leave because he was used to it, or if he actually thought Steve was the type of fella who'd fuck and run. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to put Tony's mind at ease, make him realize that Steve was in this to stay.
"Can I kiss you all over?" he asked instead, carefully taking Tony's chin between his thumb and index finger to tip his head back a little further.
Tony blinked at him again, slow and syrupy, and he watched as the question registered in his mind. His hair was sticking up in odd directions, and he had fabric marks on his cheek. It was the most beautiful he'd ever seen him. He wanted to see him like this every morning. He'd wait to tell him that, though, he thought, watching as Tony's lips parted. Until they were a little more settled. Until Tony didn't seem surprised when Steve stayed.
"Of course, Steve," Tony answered, voice soft. His hand came up to wrap around Steve's wrist, holding his hand steady so he could turn and press a kiss into his palm.
Steve slid his hand back into Tony's hair, holding him steady as he leaned in to press their lips together. He thought that was a good place to start, kissing Tony until he was breathless and then trailing his kisses back to his ear, down his jaw and throat, until all Tony could do was gasp and moan beneath him.
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149? 馃憖
Steve avoided video games in the common room as a rule. It wasn't that he didn't like video games, of course--he enjoyed a story-driven single player game, and he was quite fond of the indie games that Sam had suggested when he saw that 'Nintendo (Switch???)' was written on his list. Something about team games, though, it was... difficult. He just couldn't.
"Probably because you're a sore loser," Clint mused in response to Steve's furiously roared 'did you just blue shell me?!'
"I am not a sore loser," Steve spat, turning to glare at him.
"You are," Clint said simply as Steve's King Boo rolled in at a perfectly respectable seventh place. "Tony, back me up."
"Don't," Steve barked as Tony opened his mouth. "I am not. Leave me alone."
"You don't like to lose. It's what makes you such a good team leader, sweetheart," Tony soothed, wrapping his arms around his neck and smacking a loud, wet kiss to his cheek.
"Well," Steve grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. "I guess so."
"Yeah, it's why you kept fighting on a broken leg in the last battle," Clint added, in a way he probably thought was helpful.
Tony's arms clamped tighter around him, and Steve let out a faint 'Gck!' as it choked him, hands flying up helplessly to grab his wrists. "You said it was just a sprain," he growled.
"Oh, well, bye," Clint said, dropping his controller and bolting from the room, and Steve could only watch miserably as he disappeared into the elevator, leaving him with Tony, who still had his arms tight around his throat.
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82 for a number
"Tony," Steve sighed, trudging after Tony as he stormed into their bedroom.
"I don't want to talk to you, traitor," Tony snapped, stomping over to the bed. He knelt down to grab out one of his suitcases, then stood again, throwing it onto the bed with jerky movements.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest with another sigh. When Tony ignored him, he leaned his shoulder against the doorway and watched as Tony stalked over to the dresser like a cat with wounded pride. "Would you feel better if I apologized?"
"No," Tony answered immediately. He opened a drawer seemingly at random and began pulling out handfuls of clothing. "It was my fault for thinking that you might care."
"Okay," Steve muttered to himself, standing up straight again. He moved into the room carefully as Tony walked over to stuff his handfuls into the suitcase, because Tony could simply turn and fling it all at him. Luckily, Tony seemed too consumed by his offense to notice. He pulled out the wads of clothes as Tony swiveled to go grab something else, turning to walk over to the dresser and put it back in the drawer.
"I just can't believe!" Tony exclaimed, grabbing shirts from hangers at random. He turned to stomp back over to the suitcase and fling them in. "Loki cursed me and you don't even care!"
"Of course I care," Steve sighed, walking back to the suitcase to take the shirts back out. He raised an eyebrow when he found most of them were his, then shrugged, turning to walk over to the closet. He considered hanging everything up again, then shrugged, shoving it on a shelf at random. "We all care, Tony."
"Not enough!" Tony barked, moving back toward the dresser. He opened a different drawer and grabbed just as blindly as he had before. "No one cares that I'm benched, that I have morning sickness, that I--"
"We all care, Tony," Steve repeated sternly.
"The male body was not meant for carrying a baby!" Tony exclaimed, flinging his handfuls into the suitcase. He let out a snarl when Steve came and grabbed the clothes back out. "I am not overreacting!"
Steve did not allow a sigh that time. "I didn't say you were," he answered carefully.
"I'm allowed to be upset!" Tony snapped. "Everything hurts and I'm scared and doctors keep poking me!"
Steve turned to face him, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms over his chest again. "I never said you weren't allowed to be upset, either. I know this sucks for you, Tony. I'm the one who rubs your aching feet and back. I'm the one who holds you when you're overwhelmed. And I'm the one who yells at the doctors when they get too interested in poking you. I don't like it when you're upset, sweetheart. What caused this? What can I do to help?"
Tony looked uncertain for a moment. "...Clint ate my last green jello," he finally said, and his face began to crumple. "And now he's going to feel bad. But I don't want him to feel bad. I just want my jello."
"Sweetheart," Steve sighed, rushing toward him to pull him into his arms as Tony began to sniffle. "It's okay. It's fine."
"I hate feeling like this," Tony whimpered into his chest. "It isn't fair."
Steve buried his face in Tony's hair and sighed again, feeling helpless. "Yeah, I know. It isn't fair. Loki was an asshole and you're the one having to suffer for it. I'm sorry."
"Don't tell Clint," Tony whispered.
"I won't," Steve promised, rubbing his hand up and down Tony's back. Once Tony's breath had settled, he leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow. "Where were you going to go, anyway?"
Tony blinked back at him for a moment, considering. Finally, he answered with a simple, "Away."
"Of course," Steve huffed, and while it was a struggle not to roll his eyes, he managed it. The last time he'd rolled his eyes while Tony had still felt vulnerable, Tony had sicced Happy on him in a fit of rage, and Steve had unfortunately learned that Happy carried a special Superhero Specific Taser and he was always one hundred percent on Tony's side. "Well. Let's get this suitcase put away, and JARVIS can order some more green jello, and--"
"And peanuts," Tony added.
"And peanuts," Steve agreed. "And I'll rub your feet until it arrives. Okay? I'm here to help you solve your problems."
"Kill Loki," Tony said. "It would solve a lot of problems."
Steve huffed, face going sour. "I've tried. Thor won't let me."
Tony jerked his head back to stare up at him, shocked. Finally, though, a slightly hysterical laugh tore out of his throat, and Steve leaned down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth before he could somehow find a way to be sad again.
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7 for the ficlets 馃挏
Steve saw Natasha's hand reaching for him and turned so his back was to her with a growl.
"Steve," Tony sighed in his arms. He sounded tired. "You're drunk."
"Am not," Steve said. It only slurred off his tongue a little. He adjusted his arms around Tony and settled him more firmly in his lap. "Not possible."
"You and Thor have been knocking back Asgardian mead for two hours," Tony said, tipping his head back to frown sternly at him.
Steve did not like when Tony frowned sternly at him. He leaned down to pepper his face with kisses, because Tony never frowned when he did that.
"Steve, maybe wait until you get back to your room?" Bruce tried kindly. "Tony, could you maybe--"
Steve growled and turned again. "Go 'way."
"Steve, you can't get jealous just because one of our other friends is talking to me," Tony chided, frowning at him again.
"I'm not jealous," Steve said. He noticed a hand reaching from around him and snarled, turning to snap at it with his teeth.
Natasha grabbed his face tightly, and he whimpered as she glared down at him. "Did you just try and bite me?"
Steve took a moment to think about it. He was in a very precarious position, probably. She could snap his neck. But! He had a stronger neck than she was used to. Maybe it would be fine. "Nnno," he answered slowly. Just because it might be fine, he was pretty sure Tony wouldn't like it if he had to watch him be murdered.
"Go to bed, Steve," Natasha told him. There was a threat in her tone maybe? Steve couldn't be sure. Her face was blurry.
"...Only if I can take Tony," he decided.
Tony swiveled his head to glare at him. "Of course I'm going with you. The novelty of me getting to take care of you is not lost on me."
Steve immediately popped to his feet, swinging Tony up into his arms like a princess. Prince? He stared at Tony's shocked face for a moment, then nodded firmly. Yes.
"What the fuck are you talking about," Tony sighed, exasperated.
Steve wasn't sure he was talking about anything. "I should eat something," he finally decided.
Tony patted his chest, shaking his head fondly. "I can order pizza."
"I think I'll eat you," Steve plowed on, headed toward the elevator, but didn't make it very far before Tony want back to frowning at him sternly. "Vitamin D."
"WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT," Tony bellowed, and Thor yanked Tony from Steve's arms before Tony could thump him soundly about the head.
Steve scowled up at Thor's blurry face. "Give him back." He put up his fists. "Or else. He's mine."
"I hate it here," Tony sighed as Thor passed him over to Natasha so they could start punching each other. "I should just leave them here."
"Maybe we should order that pizza," Natasha said, easing him down onto his feet, as Steve and Thor fended off the sudden broom attack that Clint went at them with.
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42 for number ficlet!
"You're a complete moron!" Tony shouted, waving his hands over his head for emphasis as he paced up and down the tiny shack they'd holed up in. "I said I could disarm the bomb. I said I could fly us out of there. I said I could handle it! And what did you do instead?!"
"I got blown up," Steve answered morosely.
"You got blown up!" Tony shouted, as if he hadn't spoken. "And now Natasha and Bucky are tromping around in the Siberian wilderness trying to find help because your dumb ass has to sit and stitch itself together AND! Barring HELP! FOOD. IN THE SIBERIAN WILDERNESS."
"Green pine-cones are perfectly edible and full of nutrients," Steve began.
Tony loomed over him on the tiny cot Bucky had wedged him onto, looking apoplectic with rage. "What did you just say to me."
Steve opened his mouth, then carefully closed it again, considering. On one hand, in literally any other circumstance, Tony might be interested to know about the fact that small, green pine-cones could be used as a food source in case of an emergency. Right now, though, he could see that Tony was wound tight. He had said that he could handle it. Tony was always rankled when he thought people underestimated him.
Steve didn't underestimate him, though. He knew Tony could disarm the bomb. He knew Tony could fly them out. He knew Tony could handle it. He knew all of those things. And he also knew that if there was even an inkling of doubt in Tony's body, he would have stayed to make sure everyone else got out safely.
But that would have meant leaving Tony behind. Steve was incapable of doing that. Not when he knew that Tony would easily throw his life away if it meant saving someone else's. So he'd taken the brunt of the explosion with the shield, so Tony didn't have a choice.
He'd do it again in a heartbeat, but he thought if he said so, Tony might actually use a gauntlet on him. So, instead, he said, "Will you at least hold my hand while you yell at me?"
"No," Tony barked, even as carefully took one of Steve's hands between his own. His thumbs moved back and forth slowly. "And my yelling is absolutely deserved."
"I know," Steve sighed, and even to his own ears, he couldn't keep all of the fondness out of it. He watched Tony's eyes soften and managed to give his hand a minute squeeze, trying to comfort him. "And then I'll tell you about the pine-cones."
Tony sucked in a wet breath. "If I never see a pine-cone again, it will be too soon."
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Oh oh oh!!! 37 or 73. Dealer鈥檚 choice.
Thanks!
I decided to be nice and went with 73 <3
--
"I am getting real tired of meeting you here," Tony said, and he looked just as long-suffering as he sounded when Steve looked up at him through the bars of his cell. "I'm also getting real tired of everyone but you calling me for help."
Steve opened his mouth, but he wasn't entirely certain what to say. He's called Tony for help the first time he'd gotten arrested, but Tony had looked so bewildered and... sort of offended when he'd arrived? Steve had decided he'd stop calling Tony and just call on his less judgemental teammates (Bruce was a no-go after the second time) to come bail him out. He had no idea why they, in turn, had called Tony up to take on his bail. He always offered to pay them back, and he always showed up for court.
Come to think of it, the judge was starting to look at him a lot like Tony was, Steve mused, rubbing his hand over his mouth to hide an amused smile.
"You know," Tony continued when Steve said nothing, and the smile dropped from his face when he realized he'd actually been waiting for a response. "I understand you're trying to... figure yourself out, or whatever Natasha said. I just wish--"
"I am not trying to figure myself out. I am punching neo-nazis," Steve corrected firmly. "I do not enjoy punching neo-nazis. In fact, I very much dislike the fact that there are neo-nazis to punch."
Tony pursed his lips, obviously unimpressed. "The pictures the Daily Bugle post show you looking quite happy to punch them. It looks a little unhinged actually and I am officially asking you to fucking cut it out for a month. I have a fundraiser for the Maria Stark Foundation and I don't want to spend the entire thing fielding questions about your disdain for the law."
"I've never been convicted of a crime," Steve began, drawing himself up in offense.
"You're Captain America. Who wants to convict Captain America of a crime when you punch a neo-nazi?" Tony retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Stop punching people. Find a different hobby. I hear bird watching and crossword puzzles are popular with your age group."
"I'm telling Natasha you think her crossword puzzles make her old," Steve tried again.
"Her gardening hobby makes her old too. Make sure you tell her I said that," Tony retorted, then stepped closer, pointing at him through the bars. "I'm telling you one last time before I put my foot up your ass, Steve. Do things that make you happy--within the confines of the legal system."
It took everything in him not to immediately answer 'no.' He thought Tony might actually break through the bars and murder him. "Okay."
Tony blinked at him, apparently having expected more argument. Steve normally would have given him one, but Tony had proved very protective over his mother's foundation and all the events it held. Steve didn't feel inclined to push his luck. Especially since he was inside the cell and Tony was not, and Tony could leave him here.
"...Okay," Tony finally agreed. He narrowed his eyes skeptically. Steve tried to look as innocent as possible and was rewarded with a sour, "Don't do that."
"Fine," Steve said, contrite expression dropping. "Can we leave?"
Tony continued to stare at him, considering. Finally, though, he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I sent your court date to Natasha since you broke your phone on someone's face. Please stop doing illegal shit until after the gala."
Steve sighed. "Fine. Can I take you out to coffee? That's not illegal anymore apparently."
Tony whipped around to stare at him again, aghast. Finally, he managed to bark a confused, "HUH?"
"You told me to find my happiness within legal confines," Steve reasoned. "Homosexuality was legalized in New York in the eighties. I looked it up."
Tony stared at him a little longer, then let out a reedy, overwhelmed laugh. "What are you talking about?!"
"Let's discuss it over coffee," Steve tried again, and then, "Or dinner? Whichever you prefer."
"Shut the fuck up," Tony laughed, rolling his eyes, and finally turned to leave. "I'll go tell the officer to let you out."
Steve watched him go, stunned. Then he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. This was why he preferred punching neo-nazis. They, at least, knew what his intentions were. He could probably give Tony a 'will you go out with me? yes or yes' note and he'd just laugh and say he forgot to add 'no.'
#aurumacadicus answers#anon#1-161 stony ficlet challenge#stony#anyway steve decides to take a break from punching nazis to harass tony into dating him and tony is BEWILDERED but sort of into it?#he doesn't know what to do about this and natasha and clint think it's funny so they don't help
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#27 or #31 please
Steve heard Tony start to grumble and got up from the couch so he could go start breakfast. "Your pain pills and a glass of water are on the side table." The grumbling got louder. "Do not swallow the pills dry. The water is to hydrate you, not to take the pills with."
"Mrgh," Tony said behind him.
Steve paused in his work, waiting to hear anything after. He heard reluctantly gulping and nodded to himself, pleased. He was drinking, at least. "What sounds good? Omelette, or pancakes?"
"Mmmm," Tony answered. It sounded slightly distressed.
Steve immediately turned to look at him, concerned. The pills were gone from the table, he noticed, and the glass of water was empty. The pudding cup he'd left out for him in an effort to bribe him into taking the pills was untouched. He hadn't even moved the spoon. Tony looked just as distressed as he'd sounded, looking around the living room warily, mouth a flat line and eyebrows furrowed down in an expression of distrust.
Steve set the carton of eggs down and made his way over to him. "Tony? What's wrong?"
Tony's head swiveled like a bobble-head's, shaky and slow. He blinked up at Steve, eyes going glassy. "Home?"
It almost punched the air from his lungs. "Yeah," Steve answered, hoping it didn't sound as gruff as it felt as he tried not to let out a sob. He knelt beside the armchair Tony was lying on, taking one of Tony's hand's between both of his own. "Yeah, Tony, you're home. We got back from the hospital yesterday, and your leg is in a cast. I'm here taking care of you."
"Home?" Tony asked again, but this time there was a hopeful lilt to it.
"Yeah," Steve answered again, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of his hand. He remembered, suddenly, that the doctor had said Tony could have some adverse reactions to the anesthesia. He'd probably just been confused, and it would wear off more the longer it was out of his system. "Yeah, we're home. Do you want anything, sweetheart? Anything I can do for you?"
"Kiss me?" Tony asked, somehow even more hopeful, as if Steve could ever say no to him. Steve stood again, bending down so he could carefully press a kiss to Tony's forehead. When he leaned back, Tony was frowning at him, eyes wide and liquid. "No lip kisses?" he asked, sounding distressed again.
Steve carefully cradled Tony's face in both hands, thumbs rubbing over Tony's cheekbones gently. When Tony blinked up at him, waiting, he leaned in further and gently pressed their lips together. It was quick, shorter than he'd like, just a firm press-and-retreat, but he was testing--Tony was still obviously out of sorts. He could kiss him again if Tony wanted, but he didn't want to leave him feeling smothered, either.
Tony blinked at him slowly when he pulled back. Steve waited patiently for his response. "Wow," Tony finally said, and Steve couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped in response if he tried.
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stony ficlet number ask 113
Steve dropped to the ground where he stood, shield clattering to the broken cement at his side. He was exhausted. He could fight for hours, but he really hated it. He couldn't tell if that was just physical, though. Sometimes the emotional toll was worse than the physical one, based on who they were fighting.
He heard the whirr of repulsors, the dull clank of metal hitting the ground and the whirring of the gears of armor whining under the effort of movement. Steve sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out through his lips slowly, tipping his head back so he could catch sight of Tony in the armor.
"How are you feeling?" Tony asked, flipping his mask up. "You're sitting down. That bad, huh?"
Steve managed a faint smile. "Oh, I don't know. I was thinking I might lie down and die for about a half an hour, okay?"
"Oof," Tony answered, unable to keep from wincing at least a little bit. It seemed like it was instinct, though, rather than actual worry. He stepped a little closer, left leg giving an alarming little squeak with each step. "Well, as long as it's only a half an hour. Anything longer and I'd just take a nap in the armor."
"Absolutely not," Steve retorted. Sure, the armor could cradle his body and keep it safe, but sleeping upright was difficult on the body. Tony smiled, mischievous and sweet all at once, and Steve couldn't help but smile back, smitten. He motioned at Tony's leg. "Something is squeaking."
Tony flipped his face plate shut, and Steve took a moment to just take him in, watch how the armor shifted in minute increments to test every bolt and joint. It was always a marvel to see. Tony had designed the armor all by himself, had checked every piece with his own hands. He was so incredibly smart. So incredibly clever.
"Quick fix once we get home," Tony said, face plate popping back open. His hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, and there was a little swelling on his left cheek. It would probably bruise. But his eyes were bright at the idea of tinkering with the armor later, and his smile was wide with pleasure at his armor having worked with only a small malfunction.
So incredibly beautiful, Steve sighed, leaning his chin on his hand.
"Well, I'm hungry, so finish being dead, and--what?" Tony asked when he noticed the way Steve was staring at him. He blinked, lifting a gauntleted hand to his face. "I didn't get more than a glancing blow to the face, is it bad? It doesn't feel bad, I--"
"It's so unfair that you can still be so handsome after a fight," Steve said, trying to sound like he was complaining, but he could feel the goofy smile crossing his face. "I think I should kiss you all over."
Tony let out a surprised little huff, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Well, that could be arranged, maybe, after you eat something."
"You?" Steve asked hopefully.
"Maybe something with more carbs," Tony suggested instead, holding his hand out to him.
Steve took it, forcing himself not to drag Tony down for a kiss. He'd learned his lesson the last time when he'd lunged up and gotten cut by the edge of the face plate. But once it was removed, he was kissing Tony wherever he could reach.
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Send a number? Ok! How about 18? Or 35 if that one has been asked already
Steve stared down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the wedding ring around his finger. Tony was sat across the table from him, face impassive. The counselor they were seeing had stepped out for a moment, apparently a 'couple in crisis' on the phone that she needed to calm immediately. Steve wished she would come back. Wished he and Tony were in crisis. Anything other than this, betraying and feeling betrayed with a table between them and nothing to stay.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" Tony asked, voice quiet, eyes dropping to the surface of the table.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath, grinding his teeth. "We shouldn't talk without the counselor here."
"You let me talk about our life together that included kids for weeks and just now you dropped that you don't like children?" Tony hissed, eyes darting back up to him, full of fire and brimstone.
"It's for the act," Steve tried, but even as he said it, he knew that Tony didn't believe it. He didn't believe it, either.
"I thought I'd be a good dad," Tony said, and he sounded so defeated, it broke Steve's heart.
He couldn't look at him anymore. He looked back down at the ring on his finger instead and immediately regretted it. It just made him feel worse. "You will be a good dad, Tony."
"So, what, you'll choke down your distaste for children for me?" Tony asked, and there was a hint of steel in his voice now. "I've lived with that as the kid, Steve. It wasn't healthy for anyone."
Steve jerked his head up, tears filling his eyes. "Tony, I didn't say I don't like children. I said I'm scared. And if you were as smart as you always say you are, you'd be scared too." Tony opened his mouth, offended, but Steve plowed over him, biting out, "I broke three doorknobs this week. Doorknobs. I keep imagining a baby in my hands--" He spread his hands on the table, palms up, and was ashamed to find them shaking. "--and babies are so delicate, Tony, I. What if. What if I--"
Tony reached out to cover his hands with his own. "You never hurt me," he told him gently.
"I don't want to even accidentally hurt a baby, Tony," Steve whispered.
The hurt had faded from Tony's face. Resignation didn't look any better on him. "Who would adopt to us anyway?" he asked, and the humor he'd tried to inject into his tone didn't work. "We're not even here in good faith. How could we make sure they were never in danger?"
"Thor said Amora wouldn't be able to manipulate us like she had the other couples," Steve reminded him half-heartedly. "We wouldn't bring them on missions."
"Maybe I can just be a really good uncle," Tony sighed, as if there was nothing to argue about anymore, drawing his hands back into his lap.
This was why he hadn't wanted to tell Tony, Steve thought, watching him carefully tuck the idea of children into a little box and hide it away as if he didn't still desperately want it. Tony was too accommodating. He was already making up reasons he couldn't have a child so Steve couldn't take any of the blame for it.
Steve picked up the table and threw it at the counselor when she tried to come back in, and Amora caught it with a sparking-green hand. This wasn't a conversation he was going to have in front of an enemy, and throwing punches at her would help him work out all his jittery nerves. He wanted the calm after battle to be able to get his thoughts in order and really hash this out.
Even if they decided they didn't want kids after, it was going to be a mutual decision, not Tony simply taking it off the table and believing he was wrong for wanting them.
#aurumacadicus answers#sea-owl#1-161 stony ficlet challenge#stony#i want to be sorry so bad but!#i am not
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65 for the ficlet pls! I鈥檓 loving what you鈥檝e written so far!
--
Steve heard the door open and sighed, leaning forward so he could rub his hands over his face. He sucked in a breath and held it as his palms ran over his swollen black eye, forgetting for a moment that the bruise had stayed. It was a welcome change from the aches and pains he'd forgotten.
"Steve," Tony began as he walked toward him.
"I don't--" Steve cut in, then sighed when Tony circled the couch to face him, hands dropping into his lap. "I came here so I'd be left alone."
"I know!" Tony said, and it sounded as if he was carefully choosing his words. "I know. I just... you left so quickly. Once they said you could leave." He looked down at Steve with calculating eyes.
Probably cataloguing how Steve was lacking now, Steve thought bitterly. He sucked in as deep a breath as he could and let it out slowly. "You know, if you just wanted to gawk, I'm sure JARVIS got tons of video of me struggling with my fucking motorcycle, so--"
"How dare you," Tony snarled before he could finish, and Steve found himself jerking his head back to stare up at him in surprise in response. Tony's cheeks had flushed with anger, his hands had gripped into fists. He'd never seen him this angry before. "I didn't come here to--to fucking gawk, or. I came to see you because I was worried about you, you asshole." His eyes took on a particular gleam that Steve recognized as hurt. As not wanting to show he was hurt. "I thought, hell, maybe you'd want your boyfriend to comfort you while you were--but never fucking mind. Just wallow on your own, see if I care."
"Tony," Steve tried, concerned.
"I can't believe you'd think that's what I came in here to do," Tony continued, jerking his gaze away. "A wizard used magic to reverse the serum in you and you were sickly beforehand so I was coming to make sure that you were okay. I even thought, maybe you'd be happy to see me."
Shame curdled in Steve's gut. It wasn't Tony's fault that this had happened. He'd been nothing but concerned since he'd heard Clint call for medical. "I am happy to see you, Tony," he offered, but he wasn't sure how sincere it sounded when Tony shot him a wounded look.
"Sure," Tony said. He cleared his throat, looking away again. "Well. Far be it from me to bother you when you wanted to be alone. Natasha is leaning on that wizard, Thor has gone to talk to his mother, and Bruce is looking into scientific fixes. I'll be in the lab."
Tony turned to leave, and Steve couldn't stop himself from reaching out, grabbing his wrist. Tony stilled under his touch, but he didn't turn back, keeping his face turned away. Steve swallowed thickly, trying to push back his guilt at the fact that he'd been so mean when Tony had just wanted to help. This was his issue. He'd just thought he'd left it all behind him in the forties.
"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly.
"...I'm... sure this must be... difficult. For you," Tony answered haltingly. "It's fine. I overreacted."
He probably believed that, too, Steve thought, frowning. He lifted his other hand to wrap around Tony's wrist, pulling gently at his arm. "Come here."
Tony hesitated for a long moment, but eventually, after Steve pulled again, he allowed himself to be towed back around. "Steve," he sighed, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry."
"I am too," Steve promised, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. "Will you look at me?"
Tony looked at him from under his lashes, which was just as attractive as it had always been, but somehow more, now that Steve had to look up at him. "Weird seeing bruises on you," he finally murmured.
"Weird still feeling the bruises," Steve admitted. "Kiss it better?"
"Wish I could kiss everything better," Tony muttered, but he was gamely leaning in, and as careful as he was, Steve was still so unused to pain that he flinched a little. "Well, there's nothing wrong with your lips, huh?"
"Nope," Steve answered, tilting his head back so it wasn't such a strain on Tony's neck to lean down further and kiss him.
He felt the change almost immediately, aches and pains fading to dull pulses as his body began to work overtime trying to heal them. He was suddenly and incredibly hungry. He hadn't eaten since he'd left medical several hours ago. Tony also looked smaller, where he was staring up at him in shock, mouth dropped open speechlessly. For one hysterical moment, Steve remembered what Bucky had said after he'd rescued him from Hydra.
"Don't," Steve tried, but Tony began howling with laughter between semi-hysterical sputterings of 'true love? that asshole wizard said true love?' until he slid off of the couch and onto the floor.
#submission#aurumacadicus answers#saving-stark#1-161 stony ficlet challenge#stony#somehow this was a submission??? idk how tumblr works
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