sometimes, you need to scream about stuff
And sometimes you just want to be all "hey, somebody write me fic please!" And not just any fic, oh no.
I want Clint Barton to be bros with Steve Rogers ( Read more... )
I want Clint Barton to be bros with Steve Rogers ( Read more... )
And really, any other time Tony would be out of the boxers and straddling Steve's lap, sucking bruises into his neck and fisting his hair. But Tony's been down this road before. It ends in truly useless questions "What are the muppets? What would one do in case of invasion" to "If we were in a matrix..."
Steve's teeth rake against that spot behind his ear. This is the problem. This is what happens when you get close to people. They take that knowledge and use it to exploit you. Wake you up in the middle of the night with contingency plans against the potential invasion from the Hellmouth or body-snatching Aliens (thank you The Faculty for ruining the joys of recreational coke for him forever) or--in the honest to god strangest turn of events--furbies.
That's not counting the robots, recreated dinosaurs (and no, no, no they were never coming back, frozen genetic sample his ass) or mind controlled suburban moms.
"Baby," Tony croaks as Steve's fingers knead his ass. "I promise, whatever it is, it isn't actually real. It can't actually happen. And it's no reason to be a fucking tease."
Steve eases his boxers down in reply. "Have you heard of mind-heist? It could be happening right now Tony. How would we know? They do it while you sleep. Sleeping in shifts is the safest way--the only way to know no one's slipped into our mind. Think of our secrets."
At this Tony cracks his eye open, to Steve's very very solemn eyes. Fuck his whole life. How can anyone look that earnest when they are doing the things Steve's fingers are doing.
"I just--fuck," Tony's voice cuts entirely and Steve strokes him slow and easy. "I knew you would be reluctant," Steve says, keeping the rhythm as Tony abandons sleep altogether, "but I'm prepared to offer incentives."
It starts off with a simple question and Clint's voice raising in surprise--"You never saw this?" And then the invitation Tony should have cut off, would have cut off if he'd been as committed to the afternoon quickie as his 30 year old self, "Come sit down."
Fuck Clint Barton. Fuck every movie he's every owned. Every movie he's ever watched. And fuck the fucking bromance between those two. Tony's happy Steve has another friend--a bro--since he's all of 5 decades off, but all Tony wants is a night of uninterrupted sleep.
Steve raises his head to meet Tony's eyes as he licks a long, wet strip up his penis before taking it all in, and he supposes sex is an acceptable substitute. Sometimes. Mostly. God, twenty-year-old Tony would be disgusted at this quibbling. But in the past year he's figured out that he can get this anytime he wants. This and the hands and the voice and back pressed against his when he wakes up and--yeah, yeah, Tony knows how well he's adjusting to this lease.
Still, there are some benefits to this sudden tour of 90s film and you know, break up of Tony's new fuck-cuddle-sleep routine.
Clearly the lessons from 'Deepthroat' were taken to heart. That one might be from Steve's personal collection. But it's his duty as a freedom-loving American to chip in with Captain America's re-education.
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THERE ARE SO MANY FUCKING AWESOME THINGS IN THIS THAT I JUST. MY MIND.
COFFEE. MUPPET INVASION. RECREATIONAL COKE RUINATION.
You're amazing, and I want to have your anonymous babies.
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Also, the idea of Steve fucking Tony sometimes for the greater good (but mostly because he loves him and is discovering this wonderful thing called penis) appeals to me like whoa. Haha, especially cause I just see Steve as so earnest and Tony as sooo...Tony.
No one should ruin recreational coke for anyone. Especially not Tony Starks. If waking up in Banaba island with only a tie strapped around his man-parts and a broken toy radio in his hand couldn't ruin for him, then Steve just shouldn't be able to. :+ Bad Steve.
Hehe, you can definitely have my anon bebes.
But better yet, Steve should watch 'Junior' and think he can have Tony's babies.
Because what's better than Mpreg alarm and Steve frowning at Tony because he's not taking it seriously, while Steve is earnestly trying to figure out how he would manage the team's needs and baby's needs. You know he had 15 revised versions of a plan and Tony wondering what the fuck happened to his life. :D (Unless Mpreg is your squick, this should be written).
On a certain level Clint's really partly fucking with Tony. Although watching Steve figure that out and then have man-angst about the legitimacy of his bro-mance and Tony have to brainstorm some prank/mini-war against Clint to convince Steve it's totally okay and a mutual war of attrition. I feel that Steve's whole lexicon when it comes to Steve would be war ideology and comparisons. Oh, so many ideas.
Let me know if you want more of these random random thoughts. I have so many papers to write this weekend. And if you want to run with any of the many many tangents feel free.
:) Glad it was what you wanted.
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I AM SO FUCKING ON THIS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
SORRY FOR THE CAPS, BUT MY BRAIN IS STILL A LITTLE BIT BROKEN. FROM YOUR AWESOME.
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*
He's pretty sure he stumbled into the room blind. Tony had been up for seventy-five hours with the latest crisis (an army of genetically enhanced mice, of all things, which how was this his life now?) and had been running on coffee and Red Bull. He thinks he tripped when he was kicking off his shoes and landed facedown on the bed, but there was something hard and lumpy in his pocket that was digging into his thigh, his keys, right, and he flopped over onto his back to twist and turn until his jeans ended up flung across the room over a piece of furniture.
Tony's pretty sure that was four minutes ago. And two minutes ago the bed dipped and a warm, solid presence laid half over him. Right, Steve. Steve had just pressed his mouth to Tony's collarbone and said something to him, wait, he was still talking, shit, Tony should probably wake at least a little for this.
"You know," Steve was saying into Tony's neck, his hand rubbing Tony's flat-- okay, mostly flat, alright, fine, middleaged-- abdomen, "you would be a great father."
Fuck, not this again.
"Yeah, I'm sure there's some universe where you're a woman and we're married and have six little genius, neurotic children who give us grey hair by blowing things up and, I don't know, wanting to be president or something," Tony thinks he says, but for all he knows he just said "bleaauurghahhpresident" because he's so fucking tired, Christ, he doesn't even care anymore, he's going to kill Clint in the morning and damn the consequences.
Maybe he'll get some fucking sleep, finally. He doesn't care if he has to go to jail to do it.
"I'm serious, Tony." Tony cracks an eye open to find Steve looking seriously up at him from his perch on Tony's shoulder. His chin digs into the bone. It's sort of uncomfortable, and not just because Steve looking at him all earnest like that kind of still makes him squirm because he's so not fucking good at this love shit. "You would be..."
Steve kind of shakes his head in what has to be amazement or something trite like that, and okay, yeah, still uncomfortable and moving right into ow, get the fuck off of me, you say you love me yet you cause me pain territory. He's about to shrug him off when a small smile tugs at the corners of Steve's mouth and that stupid warm feeling starts to grow in his stomach again.
"If things were different, if we weren't heroes. If we'd just met one day on the street and fell in love, wanted to have a family..." The smile on Steve's face grows, and with his hair all unkempt and his eyes shining at Tony like that Tony suddenly finds him telling his body that no, it wants sleep, goddamnit, no more sex. Then Steve shrugs and okay, that's it.
Tony shrugs Steve's face off of his shoulder and his hand flies up to massage the abused skin. He lets out a blissful sigh. Steve spends two seconds looking horrified, as though he thought Tony was going to kick him out or something for admitting to wanting to bear their cute little test tube babies, before he makes a soothing noise and takes over rubbing feeling back into Tony's shoulder.
"God, I'd be a horrible father." Tony covers one of Steve's hands with his own, stilling it. "I don't think it'd be wise for me to ever adopt a kid, because I would screw one up beyond belief-- no, stop, I would," Tony cuts himself off when Steve makes a sound of protest, "and the government knows that, I'm sure. There might even be some kind of clause in my contract with SHIELD that says I'm not allowed to father any offspring."
"Tony..." Steve trails off and then rolls his eyes. He settles back down on Tony's shoulder and seems to let the subject drop. Tony is torn between the joy of being allowed to go back to sleep, yesss, sweet sweet sleep, and the agony of suddenly having an erection. Sleep wins out in the end, though, and he's right on the cusp of oblivion when Steve lays a hand flat on Tony's stomach again.
Tony bites his lip and wills back tears. Please, please no more.
"You sleeping?"
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"Nothing, forget it," Steve snipes back, and before he can do something bad like flounce out of the room in a huff or give him the Sharp Chin of Death again Tony buries his hand in Steve's hair and massages. Steve's body, which had tensed up, immediately relaxes. "I just. If we could, I would. With, you know. You."
"Hey, I get it. What you're trying to say." Steve looks up again, only this time he just tilts his head. His cheek stays, thankfully, on Tony's shoulder, so there's no sharp chin action. Tony lifts his hand from where it'd been buried in Steve's hair and grazes his knuckles over Steve's cheek. "Thanks."
Steve leans up enough to gives Tony a soft, sucking kiss that makes Tony let out a little whimpering noise. Then he lays back down, this time on Tony's chest, and his hand slides down to rest against the waistband of Tony's boxers.
"For the record," Steve murmurs into Tony's chest. His fingertips slide teasingly back and forth over his skin, dipping briefly just under the elastic waistband before raking his nails over the sparse hair. "What I was trying to say was 'I want you to put a baby in me.' Now works, if you're interested."
Tony gives up on the unrealistic thought of sleep, because if it's never going to happen again and he's going to die, then he is going down fighting. He pushes up and rolls Steve over onto his back, pressing his entire weight down between Steve's legs. Steve grins and tightens his thighs around him, one foot sliding up over Tony's calf.
Tony's used to those kinds of tricks of Steve's, yeah, but there's something about Steve's humor now that is eerily reminiscent of Barton, which is just creepy. And since any thought of Barton in their bed is banned, forever and ever amen, he decides to rush things along by sliding his hands down Steve's waist. He doesn't stop, and in one continuous movement he manages to slide his hands over his hips, down his thighs, over his knees and the tops of his feet, pulling down Steve's sweatpants as he does. Then he tosses them over his shoulder and leans forward to grind down against Steve's bare cock.
Steve throws his head back and grins, like he won a prize or something. His hands fumble and push at Tony's boxers, though, so Tony is entirely on board with whatever he's thinking.
He still manages to grumble out a "I keep telling you guys, ass babies aren't a real thing," though, before he swoops in to cover Steve's mouth with his own and swallow his laughter.
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..but there's something about Steve's humor now that is eerily reminiscent of Barton, which is just creepy.
\o/ CLINT + STEVE = DUDEBROS FOR LIFE.
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Also, OMG, your recs posts MAKE MY DAY. I must sleep now, but I CANNOT WAIT TO READ ALL THE THINGS. YOU ARE BEYOND LOVELY.
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He Has to be THE VOICE OF REASON. Like, he would cry manly tears about it, but there's just no point.
Sometimes he goes to see Pepper and brings her favorite chocolates and then a small coffee for himself and just basks in her....level-headedness. Because he likes being the slightly out there crazy person. When he has to reel other people back in it's a little scary for him. And he's a little worried that if they had kids he'd have to be the one to break all the bad news about Santa Clause, and unicorns and teleportation not being real. Not to mention Star Trek. It just kills him to explain to Steve that that's not a documentary of space exploration because they're so far off having the right tools. He can't imagine having to look into twin pairs of innocent, naive eyes. He knows he'd end up doing things. Mad Things! Like Building a Workable Spaceship. Or something.
And he's just entered the period in his life where he kind of wants to slow down and be a humdrum genius scientist/superhero boyfriend. It might look a little boring to other people but Tony was totally ready for that kind of settling down. He'd hoped to buy an island for just him, Steve, Jarvis and the occasional Avenger/Pepper/Rhodey visit. (Retirement Tony Stark style) Somewhere where he could build things in the relative peace of his workshop and see Steve sunbathing on the deck in between superheroing stints. And the Steve/Clint friendship has kinda disintegrated most hopes of that.
(Oh, and deanoning finally. Posted the ficlet to AO3 and absolutely 1000% need to know where you posted your story. )
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Anon, you brilliant thing, I adore you and everything you choose to be.
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