i just want your extra time and your kiss
such_heights is hosting an Avengers kissing fest in her comments! Go forth an answer (my) prompts!
Here are the ones I've written (so far):
Tony's used to feeling a lot of things--feeling all the things, as the kids on the internet say these days (why no, Pepper, he's not screwing around posting pics of his robots to Tumblr during briefings, why do you ask?) but he's never been much good at expressing them in ways that aren't getting drunk or having sex or building robots, so he doesn't know what to do with this weird swell of tenderness that's surging in his chest as he watches Bruce sleep.
Tony tucks the blanket around him again, like it wasn't good enough the first two times he did it, and sighs. It's a sound that's more like Pepper than like him, so he plays a little game of "What Would Pepper Do?" and remembers the many times he's pretended to still be asleep so she would smooth his hair back and kiss his forehead. He does the same to Bruce now, hesitant in a way he'd never be if Bruce were awake, more afraid of himself and his ability to break everything he touches in ways Bruce can't even comprehend than he is of Bruce or the Hulk or even the possible weirdness of getting caught watching Bruce sleep.
He brushes Bruce's hair back as gently as he can and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, the skin there sweaty and warm against his lips.
Good, he thinks, that's good, sitting back and making sure Bruce is still asleep, unsure of what to do next for once. He dozes a little himself, eventually, and wakes to find Bruce's blanket tucked around him, and the sound of Bruce singing in the shower in the next room.
***
When Natasha stalks towards him, predatory gleam in her eye, Bruce feels more than a twinge of trepidation. When she puts her hands on his arms, holds him in place with a light touch and the knowledge that he won't break free, he sucks in a deep, calming breath, and the scent of her shampoo, astringent and herbal. When she presses her mouth to his, hot and open and needy, he gasps into it, surprised, or maybe pleased, and not a little worried about what she's thinking and how it will end.
She pulls back and studies him, her gaze steady and assessing, and then kisses him again, with teeth this time, sharp against his lower lip, a warning and a dare. He holds still and kisses her back gently, letting her have control here, where he doesn't need it, the anger that always simmers in his belly banked for now, overtaken by the heat of desire washing through him.
This time when she pulls back the appraisal is still there, but its edged with need, and her lips curl in a small, smug smile. She muffles his answering laugh with another kiss, her hands sliding down his arms to fold around his hands, and pull him towards the couch. He goes without resistance and, for once, without being afraid.
***
The band plays something slow and Steve watches couples swirl across the dance floor and laughs, because if he doesn't, he might cry.
Natasha touches his arm and gives him an inquisitive look.
"Funny how this is one of the few things that hasn't changed," he says. The men are all in tuxedos, the women in gowns that sway and flare as their partners spin them about. Waiters in white jackets are distributing flutes of champagne as the dancing wraps up in favor of the countdown. It could be 1943 again instead of five minutes away from 2013.
He hands a glass of champagne to Natasha and takes one himself. Tony gets up on the bandstand and even that is familiar in a way that makes Steve's heart hurt; he's good at separating Tony from Howard--they're not as alike as all that, he's learned--but right at this moment, it's harder than it's been in a long time. He holds a hand out to Pepper, who joins him.
"Pepper and I would like you to join us in counting down to the future," Tony says.
"May this year be better than the last," Natasha murmurs, raising her glass as the rest of the crowd starts counting down.
The crowd chants out the last ten seconds and then the band strikes up Auld Lang Syne.
Natasha pulls him down into a kiss, her tongue licking into his mouth and curling over his in a way that makes his whole body heat up. When she pulls back, he makes a soft whimpering noise and she smiles.
"Begin as you mean to go on," she says.
"Well in that case..." Steve sets his still-full glass of champagne on a passing tray and sweeps her into his arms. After a surprised gasp, Natasha curls her fingers into the lapel of his tux and laughs into his mouth.
He can't think of a sweeter way to start the year.
***
Steve slides across the plate and jumps up, pumping his fists in the air, as the umpire calls him safe. He’s never scored the winning run in the bottom of the ninth with two outs before. It feels even better than he dreamt when he was a kid.
His teammates surround him, shouting with victory and trading high-fives and pats on the butt (or squeezes, in some cases--Steve's gotten used to being teasingly groped by various Avengers, though he’s never had the nerve to reciprocate).
Darcy jumps into his arms, heedless of the dirt covering his uniform, cups his face, and seals her mouth over his in a hot, fierce kiss that makes him a little dizzy.
"We won!" she says, raising her hands in the air and trusting him to hold her.
"We sure did," he answers, licking the sticky sweet taste of her lipgloss off his lips and kissing her again.
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/478625.html.
people have commented there.