such_heights | Avengers kissing fest!

Natasha/Pepper, distraction

Natasha hasn't been Pepper's PA in a long time, but she still finds herself dropping by the office now and then - officially she's Pepper's SHIELD liason, but unofficially, Natasha likes her; likes the parts of her that are tough, that bend without breaking.

Today, Pepper is harried, distracted. Not that very many people would be able to tell; there's not a hair out of place, her clothes are spotless and unrumpled, and she greets Natasha with a polite, friendly smile. But the smile is slightly strained at the corners, and there's a tightness around her eyes and in the set of her jaw that evokes an answering tension in Natasha. She foregoes sitting in the comfortable leather chair and comes around to perch on Pepper's desk instead, putting her body within Pepper's reach.

"Hey," Pepper says, her smile loosening and slipping away. She cups Natasha's knee with her hand, absently, as if to ground herself.

"Tough day?" Natasha allows the touch.

"You have no idea," Pepper says, and now her facade vanishes entirely as she makes a funny overwhelmed sort of face, eyes wide as she blows out an exaggerated breath. Her hand, perhaps unconsciously (or perhaps not - Pepper is a very conscious person, which is another thing Natasha likes about her) squeezes Natasha's knee.

Bending down, Natasha slips two fingers under Pepper's chin and tilts her face upwards. Pepper watches her carefully as she moves in slowly, her mouth first just grazing Pepper's lips and then rushing forward to take her mouth completely. It turns wet, and hard, and after a moment Natasha can feel Pepper letting go, going soft and sharp and eager beneath Natasha's hands, against her skin, against her mouth.

When she pulls back, Pepper is smiling, and the tension around her eyes seems reduced.

"Maybe you need a distraction," Natasha suggests.

She waits patiently while Pepper cancels her three o'clock, but does not allow Pepper's hand to move from her knee.

eee! I love how well Natasha reads Pepper here. <3

I love your presentation of Pepper here. This is adorable!

Oh oh oh this is wonderful.

I love how you make Pepper's professionalism and Natasha's skills at observation work so well together. ♥

A thing of beauty

Man, I love how well Natasha understands Pepper and what she needs in that moment. Really fantastic.

Ohh, beautiful! I love the detail with the hand on the knee, the careful approach. <3

Even though Pepper isn't aesthetically the sort of woman I'd generally want to see paired with Natasha, the characterization works for me, and this ficlet really captured the parts of their personalities that make me want to see more of the pairing--esp. the way that there's an interplay of hard and soft in them both--in the words of the fic.

Natasha smiles as she feels the ticklish brush of Pepper's mouth on her wrist.

"Have to work harder than that to distract me," she says, continuing to type her post-mission report. Doombots were temporarily neutralised after a vat of beer exploded over them. (Make: Budweiser. Unclear if effect was brand-specific.)

"I like a challenge," Pepper murmurs, and slides her mouth upwards, stopping again when she reaches the crook of Natasha's elbow.

Natasha continues typing, her keystrokes even. Investigate possible uses of alcohol and/or hops in combating robotic hostiles - job for Stark and Banner?

Pepper places her hand against the curve of Natasha's back, small and warm. She kisses Natasha's shoulder, and Natasha finds herself hitting the backspace bar, frowning in irritation as she weeds out an unexpected typo.

"Take your time," Pepper says sweetly, licking Natasha's skin and blowing cool air across.

Natasha doesn't shiver; she's too disciplined for that. Pepper laughs anyway, like she knows she's getting through and is far too pleased with herself about it. Natasha keeps typing, coolly recording her observations about Doombots and battle strategies and the current psychological states of her teammates. (All members of the Avengers behaving within normal parameters as laid out by previous reports. Note: Stark is gradually becoming less combative and more willing to work as part of a team.)

"Aw, you're giving Tony good grades?" Pepper says, resting her chin on Natasha's shoulder.

"This is a confidential document," says Natasha.

"Really now," says Pepper. She kisses Natasha's neck, slow and soft.

"I'll have to question you," Natasha says. "Find out how much of our intel you've seen, assess whether you're a threat or not."

Pepper kisses Natasha's cheek and scrapes her teeth against the angle of Natasha's jawline. "Ooh, Agent Romanov," she says, "is that a promise?"

Natasha saves her file to the server, and emails the document to Fury and Hill over a secure connection. If she's particularly terse in the body of the email, well, she's a busy woman.

She closes the lid of her laptop and puts it down on the table. She turns to face Pepper, controlled and composed.

"Now then, Ms Potts," she says. "Shall we begin your interrogation?"

Pepper fakes a swoon. "I thought you'd never ask." She kneels up, smiling, and then her lush red mouth slides against Natasha's.

Natasha pulls her in close and allows herself to be distracted entirely.

*goofy spacey grins* I loooooove them! And I would pay cold hard internet dollars for that interrogation scene. :D :D :D

Eeee! Adorable and hot!

This is so awesome I am clutching my face between bouts of typing.

I love everything about this.

HA! I love how Natasha bravely soldiers on with her report and even goes back to fix the typos.

You can tell Pepper appreciates her professionalism. *nods*

Hot and fun and fantastic, just perfect. Adore Natasha continuing to work and Pepper being able to read the tiniest tells to know she's having an effect. Love it.

Ahhh, this is adorable, and really made me realize how attracted to Natasha Pepper likely would be! haha of course they make interrogation jokes. <3

I second requests for the universe to give us a record of that interrogation scene.

Bruce/Natasha, trepidation

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.

oooooooh, this is lovely.

Thank you!

Oh, gorgeous. I love the way the expectations are reversed, that it's Natasha stalking Bruce and him being nervous over her.

Thank you! When there is kissing involved, I think Bruce is definitely the one who would be nervous! *g*

This is lovely. Kisses conquer trepidation!

Ohhh, I love how it's Bruce's fear that's highlighted here, and how they understand so much about each other without words. This is beautiful.

Clint/Natasha - We aren't even real.

9 times out of ten, Nat is the most grounded, unflappable, composed and cool-headed person in the world, even if (for instance) their contact dissolves in front of them. Literally. Which has happened. And of that one time out of ten that she's not, ninety-nine times out of a hundred (of that one time out of ten) she just gets pissed off and a pissed off Natasha is bad news for pretty much anything she encounters.

But that one time out of a hundred of those one-times-out-of-ten, something hits her brain just the wrong way and lets some of the carefully controlled and neutralized fucked-up out.

The first time she doesn't shove it all back in like you'd to for a gut wound where your intestines fall out is the time that Clint realizes she actually trusts him (inasmuch as she trusts anyone, ever). And this is hugely gratifying and heart-warming and totally, utterly fucking terrifying when he finds her standing in front of a mirror she apparently smashed with her hand (which is bleeding), staring at the fractured reflection like it's got the secrets of the universe or has pissed her off recently.

(These are remarkably similar expressions, in Tasha.)

" . . . Natasha?" Clint says, cautiously. Then he searches for something to say that isn't going to set off Mount Vesuvius and settles on, "You're bleeding all over the tiles."

Natasha frowns and stares at her hand like she's not sure she's ever seen it before or like someone redecorated it while she was out. "How do you know?" she asks, in a weird and distant voice.

"Uh," Clint says intelligently, reflecting that "dealing with the Black Widow's mental breakdowns" is sadly not a currently listed training course at SHIELD. "I can see you. You're right there?"

Now Natasha turns her stare on him and he fights the urge to take a step back, because that . . . well, he hasn't seen that stare since before he decided not to kill her, and it's still fucking scary. But he just stands where he is, and she asks, "How do you know it's me? And don't say you know what I look like, Barton. Looks are nothing. Bodies are nothing. We're nothing. We're not even real."

There's probably a right answer to this, like, an approved and brilliant one. After a minute, Clint just shrugs and says, "I think if you were anyone else and I walked in on you being crazy and punching mirrors and questioning reality, I'd probably be dead by now?"

A lot of different expressions go across Natasha's face, that scrunch it up in different shapes, until she looks back down at her bleeding hand and seems to actually see it.

"Here," Clint says, ducking into the bathroom and opening one of the cabinets, holding up some gauze and bandage. Natasha lets him use the iodine wipes on her hand, but takes the gauze and bandage herself. When she's done she sighs, and looks up a bit more like herself.

"Sorry," she says, short and grudging, like she hates having to see it. On the basis that a little obnoxious is always more welcome than pity, Clint puts a mocking arm around her shoulder.

"Don't sorry about it," he says, and decides to totally break the mood by dropping a kiss on the side-top of her head.

The world pauses for a second, and then Tasha says, " . . . did you just give me a patronizing kiss on the head?" and really sounds a lot more like Natalia Romanova and a lot less like a crazed remnant of a super-spy-assassin. Clint congratulates himself.

"Yeah," he replies, and then adds, "And now I really know it's you, because I'm still not dead."

She's trying not to laugh as she shoves him away. Clint'll count that a win.

a;das;ldj why are they so endearing and fucked up at the same time? This is great.

~~because this is my favorite dynamic to write? :D~~

it's a special skill they have. I figured since I spread Clint's crazy all over in the longer ones, it was Natasha's turn.

Edited (stray apostrophe snuck in while I was typing on an iPhone with a two year old on Time Out in my lap. ) 2012-06-28 02:41 (UTC)

This both made me heartclenchy and seal-clap at the screen. Well done!

\o/ They sort of do that to me inherntly. : D

Very awesome <3

Thank you!

This is amazing, I love how you captured them, just on the edge of broken.

I figur they must just sort of live on that edge. And do tricks.

Thank you!

Oh, Natasha! I want to hug her, but she'd probably stab me.

Or at the very least, stand there stiffly for a moment and then unwind your arms and force you to stand back at arm's length, and then ask in an utterly withering tone what the hell you thought you were doing, and also, what the hell.

Depending on how one sees the world, this may be better or worse. *solemn*

(Thank you!)

I love how complex you made their relationship in so short a space! So charming.

Thank you very much!

Oh wow, this is awesome. Haha the patronizing head kiss is great, and I especially love how they both know she's herself because she won't kill Clint.

Clint is pretty sure she is the only person of her general description that would let him get away with shit like patronizing kisses on the head without gutting him, or at LEAST beating him up to show their disapproval. *solemn*

Thank you!

D'awwwww. Clint being sweet and supportive by being obnoxious because that's what she needs is endlessly ♥ Oh, I love them so.

(Ugh, oh god, of course NOW I see all my typos /o\)

I love writing their Idiosyncratic forms of emotional communication. :D I'm glad other people also enjoy.

(I know! I literally posted one earlier and went...I am missing a period. In the first line. *facepalm*)

BROS. AND KISSING. TWO GREAT TASTES THAT TASTE GREAT TOGETHER.

(<333333333)

Clint/Natasha - We aren't even real.

It isn’t often that Clint gets sent on the deep infiltration spy gigs these days. They seem to have more use for him on rooftops and watching from a distance. But, right now, he is in a tuxedo, dancing with Natasha in the American Embassy in Kiev. They’ve been in Ukraine for two months. Playing the part of second-generation Americans, with (long dead, long mourned) Russian parents, and a lot of money to burn. Natasha’s running the show. Of course she is. She’s organising everything, and scaring the backup team by knowing more intel in three days than they’d found in months. Clint is, basically, along for the ride. He’s the charming husband, with the spine of steel, and the dangerous glint in his eyes. Just enough new-American to not mind being second-fiddle to his wife, and just enough bravado to occasionally slip the leash.

Natasha is wearing her favourite Dinner-And-Dancing-At-The-Embassy dress. It’s black, curve skimming, and forgiving enough that she can wear a thigh-holster and no one will know. It’s a miracle of engineering, and it has removable boning. She’s smiling gently, her head resting on Clint’s shoulder and the pearl earrings are reflecting the light from the chandeliers around the room. To an outsider she looks beautiful, peaceful and in love. Clint can feel her watching the room, knows she has a knife tucked into the boning of the dress, a revolver in the thigh-holster and that the thigh he has bracketed with his, as he dips her down so she can look at the balcony, could kill a man in seconds.

He brings her back up, twirls them round, and then flourishing, dips her again in time to the music. He’s playing this part as a little over-exuberant, it seems to be going down well. They have new money, new car, new attitude and new names. He can have a new personality for a while. “There are two snipers on the balcony,” he mutters into her ear, and she nods. “There’s one at the doorway as well, he’s hiding a gun under the champagne tray. Not very well.” Natasha sounds put out at the lack of effort the marksman is putting into his job.

“Well, in that case, shall we split?” Clint slides his hand up her back, splaying his fingers open. Their signal for “you left, me right, meet you in the hotel” and Natasha slides her hand up his back in an answer. The music comes to an end, and Clint draws Natasha in for a kiss, slides the memory chip over on his tongue and twirls her out of his grip.

hnnnngh this is fabulous!

Aww, thank you!

Awesome. So many layers of awesome. Especially the dress.

Thank you! I had a lot of fun thinking about how Natasha could weaponise a dress, not going to lie!

Oh goodness, I want this to be a whole story about them being glamourous and dangerous and kicking ass.

At this point, *I* kind of want it to be a whole story! Who knows, it may eventually become one.

So elegant, prose & scene both.

Thank you! That is a lovely comment!

Ahhh what a wonderful image, them dancing and exchanging information through a kiss, and I love how comfortable they are with each other, and how smoothly they work together. And the dress!!!

Thank you! I find them such an interesting pair to think about, and write for. All that history! And spying!

I think I have basically written Natasha a dress I would love to own!

**HIGH FIVES THIS ENTIRE FICLET**

Just enough new-American to not mind being second-fiddle to his wife, and just enough bravado to occasionally slip the leash.

This line just struck me as so unbelievably perfect. And the kissin' wasn't bad either. Or, you know-- all of it. So good. :)

*FICLET HIGH-FIVES BACK*

Oh, thank you! I am glad that line worked for you, it sort of stuck in my head and demanded to be put in this ficlet.

Eeeeee, this is fun! I love the details and how they are aware of the whole room and competent, and totally having fun, all at the same time. It makes it weirdly sexy while not being about sex at all, between them. (mmm, competence)

She’s smiling gently, her head resting on Clint’s shoulder and the pearl earrings are reflecting the light from the chandeliers around the room. To an outsider she looks beautiful, peaceful and in love. Clint can feel her watching the room, knows she has a knife tucked into the boning of the dress, a revolver in the thigh-holster and that the thigh he has bracketed with his, as he dips her down so she can look at the balcony, could kill a man in seconds.

I love love love this whole description. Perfect.

I have such a competence kink it isn't even funny. Watching Avengers was all about having that button hit!

Thank you!

This hits ALL of my spy buttons. So good!

Yay! I am glad!

After the Loki situation, SHIELD takes them both off active duty for a few weeks. Ostensibly it's until all the paperwork clears, but really, Natasha knows, it's because they're resources, and SHIELD is managing them. It doesn't feel like a kindness.

Even less kind to Clint, who isn't just being rested but also watched. A period of observation is understandable after what happened, a new and inexplicable form of mind control for an extended period of time. They can't take Natasha's word for it that he's back--though she thinks Fury's as convinced of that as she is, but he can be surprisingly serious about following procedure, when procedure isn't stupid.

He might have taken Coulson's word that Clint was himself again, and Natasha would have trusted it too. Coulson had been fond of Clint, in his quiet little way, and it had been mutual. Another reason it's hard to be around Clint now, to watch him forced into idleness with no distractions and no mission.

Which doesn't mean she doesn't stay. She's off active duty but she's free to go, at least as free as any SHIELD agent ever is--which is to say, with eyes on her, but just the usual eyes. And she could go anywhere. But Clint can't. To be sure, they're hardly married or even official partners, and she's spent more time on solo missions than working with him since he brought her in. For now, though, she stays. Trains with him, when he doesn't prefer to be alone. Watches movies--he likes big action films, preferably the kind where the villain is some natural disaster. There's alien invasion movies in his collection too--they've watched most of them together--but she suspects the bloom is at least temporarily off that rose.

(He doesn't so much like the movies where the bad guys are other people and the fights are violent orgies of punching and gunplay. Not--she's almost certain--for any deep emotional reason, but because that kind of thing done badly is annoying, and done well it's shop talk.)

He's being kept in SHIELD's New York facility, because the Helicarrier is in dry dock being repaired and upgraded, and anyway it's not really built for long-term habitation. The New York building is a nice enough place, with a big gym that even has an archery range, if only a small one. His quarters have windows. But it's not enough.

"You have to let me take him out," she tells Fury. "We won't leave the city, but he needs a break. Or a mission," she adds, out of no real hope. On that she expects no leeway; 'agent under enemy control' is three to six weeks of observation, depending on the circumstances, and no time off for good behavior. (The observation period doesn't always end happily, but this one will. Because he's fine. It's just the procedure.)

"Do you know how many routes there are out of this city?" Fury says. "I'm not in the mood to blockade Manhattan because Barton got itchy feet."

"I can keep Barton under control," Natasha says. "And he doesn't want to leave SHIELD. Just this building."

"One and a half more weeks and maybe he can."

"He won't--" She stops herself. It isn't true, anyway. Of course he'll make it. Clint's no more fragile than she is. It only feels true, watching him lift weights, shoot arrows a short distance in a straight line, spar with her in a way that feels hollow now that she knows exactly what he's capable of and remembers the taste of his blood. Watching him flinch and carefully relax when some agents had passed them in a corridor, glanced at him, and then the murmured names of two of the agents he'd killed had floated down the hallway after them.

"You know this isn't necessary," she tries.

"It's procedure," Fury says. "For a damned good reason." He looks at her more closely. "But there's no reason you need to stay locked in here with him."

She hasn't, quite. She goes outside, mostly when Clint's made it clear he needs his space for a while. It doesn't seem fair to take off while he's stuck in there, though. And maybe--she knows her own weak points; she has to. When she's away she starts to feel tense. Anything could happen, without her.

Of course she doesn't say anything like this to Fury. She doesn't say, either, We're off active duty because we're your resources, and resources need to be managed, and that's all well and good but you're killing him, and there won't be anything left to burn out if you don't give him some way out of his own head.

She doesn't say, I can't stand watching him like this, and I can't leave.

She says, "Two hours. We'll go to the park."

But Fury knows her pretty well, and he probably hears the rest.

*

Clint's been on edge all day--moreso than usual, which is what prompted her to finally confront Fury. So she doesn't go find him right away. She goes outside, walks a few blocks and drinks some tea at a coffeeshop and watches people. The SHIELD facility is in one of the unscathed sections of the city, but there's reconstruction work underway another few blocks down and the growling hum of equipment carries well.

She heads back in the evening and goes to his quarters. Sharing a bed is an old habit, though in the past it's only ever lasted a few days, after bad missions. This was a bad mission, no question about that, but it's been ten days now since she first slid under the sheets next to him. Well, if he wants it to stop, he'll let her know.

His body is tense alongside hers. He tries to wear himself out but it's the same every night; he only relaxes in his sleep, between dreams. A little of the tension slips away, though, when she presses close against his back.

It's not about sex, between them. That isn't who they are. But this is what he showed her about herself: she needs contact. Just like everybody else.

(You're not a machine, he'd said, they tried to make you into one but you're a person, you don't have to--you get to decide-- Hands on her face, in her hair, his forehead pressed sweaty and hot against hers.)

Natasha rests one hand on his bicep. "You've got a two hour furlough tomorrow," she says. "We're going to the park."

For a minute he doesn't respond. If it weren't for the tautness in his muscles--and if they were other people entirely--she might think he'd fallen asleep.

"Fury's sending me on a field trip?" he says finally. "Thought I couldn't break containment. Thought I might try to run off and do more bad things."

"We'll have chaperones," she says. "Best deal I could cut."

She's seen Clint cry before, once--not including tears from pure physical pain, which are involuntary and signify nothing. Only once. She isn't seeing it now, but with her chest against his back the shaking is pretty unmistakable. She holds on to his arm and rides it out.

"It's only eleven more days," he says eventually. His voice is thick, and wavers a little, but not so anyone else would notice. "Not like they're torturing me in here."

"Yes they are," Natasha says, and presses a quick hard kiss to the back of his neck. "You need a break."

"I need a mission," Clint snaps.

"That deal I couldn't make." She sits up on one elbow and looks at him. She hadn't expected him to get up and dance, but he seems somehow worse. "Clint, what's wrong?"

"That…is a damned good question." His body curls in tighter, away from her. Worry creeps up her spine, cold and grey, even before he goes on. "Maybe I should be in here. Maybe I'm not safe."

"Not safe?"

His clenched fist thumps down on the mattress. "I feel--I don't feel right."

She doesn't have to force herself to consider the possibility. This is the kind of scenario her mind runs automatically, whether she wants it to or not. "You think you might still be under some kind of influence?"

"I don't know!" Another thump. He's turned away so much that he's mostly talking into the pillow now. This is all new, this level of--distress. She's held him through so much, helped him back after torture, after worse things than torture--but this is different.

Do you know what it's like to be unmade? he'd asked her.

Of course she knows.

"Come here," she says, and pulls at him until he rolls over. "Look at me."

He looks. His eyes are hurt, and hollow. "Tasha…"

She touches his face, and his eyes flutter closed again.

"I don't even feel real anymore," he says, very quietly.

Natasha has always trusted her instincts. Clint draws in a shaky breath when she slides her fingers into his hair, and then she's kissing him, holding on and kissing him. His arm lands heavily on her back and clings tight.

It doesn't last so long, not even long enough to leave her out of breath. She doesn't move away, lips brushing his cheek when she speaks. "You're real," she says. "And you're going to be all right again."

He doesn't say anything for a minute, just strokes her back slowly, big hand rubbing up and down, up and down, in time with the puffs of breath against her face.

Finally he says, "You learn that technique from the SHIELD psychiatrists?"

She feels the corner of her mouth twitch, and she lets go of him. "Go to sleep," she says. "We're going to the park tomorrow."

"Yaaaay, walkies," Clint mutters. His grin is only slightly more visible than her own. "You're not going to let me try and slip the handlers, are you?"

"Apparently Fury's not in the mood for an emergency blockade. I even had to promise to stay out of the more wooded areas."

"This fucking job," Clint says, and yawns. The tension isn't gone from his body, but it feels like lying next to a person again, not unexploded ordnance.

Like always, he falls asleep first. Natasha lets herself drift off on the sound of his breath, shallow and steady, close enough to touch.

This is all kinds of beautiful and achy and raw, and even giggle-inducing at the end.

FEELINGS. OH GOD. THESE TWO. *hearthands*

ahhhhhh CLINT. NATASHA. This is hurty and so, so good.

This is great. :D <3

Oh my god, this is amazing. It's so gorgeous and painful.

This is so beautiful and painful. So many feelings!

Oh wow, this is stunningly beautiful. I love all these insights into their relationship, and what they give to each other.

Tony & Bruce

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.

*dolphin noises*

This is the most adorable thing to ever adorable. :D

\o/

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

oh oh oh my gosh. Oh Tony. Jeez, now I am also feeling all the things. The TENDERNESS! And then Bruce woke up and tucked him in back. <3 <3 <3

Thank you! <3

Oh god, I love this whole fill but this line especially. SO MANY FEELS.

Thank you!

My cat just jumped at the high-pitched squeaky noise I just made. Awwwww!

\o/

Thank you!

*squishes* yeees

Thank you!

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.

Ahhhhhhhhhh, TONY. My heart.

(also, Tony's tumblr would be the best thing in existence - all robots and embarrassing candids of other Avengers and occasionally rants about Hammer Tech and/or smackdowns of people and reblogs of Steve and Thor's hilarious attempts at PR)

SINGING IN THE SHOWER oh my goodness, that is LUFF, yes it is! Squee! Thank you!

oh, how I love Tony's tender moment, and Bruce's reciprocation with the blanket. (also, Tony and Tumblr, THE MIND REELS.)

Darcy/Steve, squee

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 in him to hold her.

"We sure did," he answers, licking the sticky sweet taste of her lipgloss off his lips and kissing her again.

*squee*!! indeed. :D Oh, Steve! I can totally see it too.

Crap. Now I really need a fic of Steve learning about/watching film of Jackie Robinson. Like really really need.

Thank you!

And yes, there totally needs to be fic about that.

um, there might be now

\o/

This is so cute!

And now I want there to be an annual Avengers vs. SHIELD softball game.

Thank you! That was kind of what I was imagining? Or maybe Avengers+SHIELD v. the Xavier School?

Yeah, after I posted my comment, I realized that it wouldn't be fair just having Avengers vs. Shield on account of powers, but going up against Xavier's School would totally make it work!

Clint would totally hit on, and get shot down by, Storm.

I personally would like to see a Storm/Thor hookup. LIGHTNING. THUNDER. YOU KNOW IT WOULD BE AMAZING.

OH MY GOD HOW DID I NOT EVER THINK OF THAT PAIRING BEFORE? It is the most amazing idea ever.

EVER

And Jane would be all for it because 1) hot, 2) she'd be in heaven getting all kinds of atmospheric readings based on different positions, and also 3) I think she's secretly become an e-stim addict and the possibilities with the two of them are endless.

Hee! This is awesome! I love Darcy/Steve!

Thank you! I am very fond of the pairing myself!

Darcy/Jane, for science!

"WHAT?!?!"

Jane covered her ears and winced. "Darcy, it's not that big of a deal. And keep your voice down!"

Darcy narrowed her eyes and leaned across the table, heedless of the effect her bust was having on the empty beer bottles between them. "I can't believe it. Never ever? Not during some game of spin the bottle in middle school--"

"I didn't really go to parties in middle school--"

"Not during truth-or-dare in high school--"

"I didn't really go to parties in high school either--"

"Not even during your twenty-five years of college--"

"It was only seven years, Darce, and I was kind of busy, you know getting a PhD--"

"Never have you EVER kissed a girl?"

Jane shrugged, her face flushed with alcohol and embarrassment. "No, I have never kissed a girl."

Darcy's expression turned mischievous, and suddenly she was out of her chair and tugging Jane to her feet. Her hands were warm as her fingers threaded through Jane's hair, cupping the back of her head. "Well then, consider this an experiment. You know, for science," and then Darcy's lips were on hers, all heat and beer and strawberry chapstick.

Jane had always loved science.

Hee!

Thanks!

So perfect!

Glad you liked!

For science, obviously! Hee!

Obviously, it's /only/ for science, right? ^_^

Jane had always loved science.

Heeeee. God, I can just see Natalie Portman's face saying this.

Edited 2012-06-28 18:11 (UTC)

Thank you! :D

Eeeee, I love this! <3 <3 <3

Thank you! :D

NICE. You go Darcy, making things right for everyone. Fantastic.

Darcy's such a giver. ^_^

And after the Science Boyfriends, it seems legit that we have the Science Girlfriends now. How considerate, Darcy <3 [as tumblr would say, "science her!"]

Very cute!

Science Girlfriends ftw! :) Thanks!

*laughs out loud for the sheer joyfulness of the piece* Wonderful!

Thank you! :)

Tony/Pepper, post-mission

Tony in his default boyfriend state tends towards extremes: it's always either complete interest in everything she's doing and overwhelming levels of affection and heat, or it's three days of him locked in his workshop, dead to the world and issuing only single-syllable responses to most questions. Pepper finds that, while she knows she's not supposed to like such a thing, she kind of does; they've always been good at finding a rhythm together, and this is no different. They are desperately in love in their own, rather practical way, and if she would just as soon he were out of her hair while she's busy running the company, that's no one's business but theirs.

One of the rhythms she's learned to anticipate, though, is the way Tony will always come to her after a tough mission, whether as Iron Man or with the Avengers; the way he'll want more than anything to get his mouth on her, to kiss her and draw his teeth over her skin as if desperate for the taste of her. This is something Pepper can understand and live with, especially when he's got his face buried between her thighs and is licking and sucking at her cunt like it's the only thing he needs in the world: like he can forget the adrenaline and violence coursing through his system by bringing his focus down to this one point, the point where his mouth meets her body and draws her pleasure from her. He rarely gets hard, on those nights, and when she finally can't take any more he'll lay his head against her thigh and kiss her absently, eyes closed, before falling asleep.

Pepper, for her part, watches JARVIS's video feed from the Iron Man suit, watches as Tony dodges alien destructo rays and takes hits from things far stronger than he is. As she watches she anticipates the moment when Tony will come back to her, when she can fuck his face and tighten her fingers in his hair and hold on, bring him down, bring them both back down together.

This really sounds like them and how they make their relationship work.

a;lsjda this is AWESOME, both a great little character study and totally hot. Yay!

Holy crap this is awesome.

well jeez, make a believer out of me why don't you :D This is so full of love, their weird intense true love.

This is awesome.

Steve/Bucky, reunion

The message comes from Maria Hill. She doesn't send a digital note or make a phone call; instead, she appears at the door of Steve's Stark Tower apartment, face serious.

"Come with me, Captain Rogers," she says.

"Why? What's going on?"

She deliberately moves her eyes to look suspiciously around the hallway until Steve sighs, grabs his jacket, and says, "I guess you can tell me on the way."

It isn't until they've ridden down the elevator and climbed into a large black vehicle that anyone speaks, and it's Steve who initiates. "You know Stark will find out what's going on anyway. He's not the type to sit around while a SHIELD agent escorts me out of the building."

"This is a personal matter, Captain," Hill says.

"I don't follow."

She hands him a file folder. "Personal for you."

Steve frowns, but when he opens it, his breath catches.

"How long are we driving?" he asks.

"ETA fifteen minutes."

It's the longest fifteen minutes of Steve's life, thumbing through Bucky's file. There are portions missing - it doesn't escape Steve's notice that he's looking at paper instead of a computer, after all - but just the allusions to a recovery team and medical interventions are enough to tie his insides into knots.

"You understand," Hill says after the car stops and they're making their way to the transport waiting atop a skyscraper. "Director Fury wanted you brought in immediately."

Steve nods.

"There's still work to be done."

"I can be patient, Agent Hill," Steve says more calmly than he's feeling. When Bucky's life is in the balance, he'll do whatever it takes to save it. Even if it means doing nothing.

They fly in silence to the Helicarrier, and Hill wastes no time in leading him to a waiting area. She directs him to sit in a chair and disappears into a room down the hall.

It's hard, but it's not bad, waiting around. It's taken Steve time...no, it's still taking Steve time to integrate into the future. Not because it's different; he's always been stubborn enough to pull through any new situation. It's just hard to stomach that the bullies look almost exactly the same as they always did. Getting a piece of his past to share in that experience is a lot for a guy to wrap his head around.

Hill comes out twice alone: once to hear Steve tell check the details around Bucky's death - as if it wasn't all in the reports Steve gave before and after he was frozen - and once to update. The second time comes while Steve's at the end of a nap lasting several hours, but once Hill steps in front of him, it was like he was never asleep.

"He's awake," Hill says. "It'll probably be another hour while the doctors finish the preliminaries."

Steve nods. The lump in his throat won't let him say anything aloud.

Hill ends up being right; judging by the very expensive wristwatch Tony insisted on buying Steve, it's fifty-seven minutes before a man in a thin hospital gown steps out into the hallway. Steve stands up immediately, and Bucky grins, walking over with Hill at his back like he never missed a day of his life.

Steve doesn't waste any more time. He meets Bucky halfway, cups his face in his hands, and leans in for a kiss.

Bucky flushes right away and leans back. Steve drops his hands and is about to step back when he notices Bucky looking at Hill, who politely stepped away and turned her back.

"It's okay," Steve says. "We can do this now."

Bucky's smile returns, and he sets a hand at the back of Steve's neck. "I like the future already."

Their lips meet, Bucky's soft and slightly salty from sweat. Steve sighs quietly into his mouth and wraps his arms around to hold him close.

He suspects Hill's lurking to take Bucky somewhere different: maybe to quarters, or to debriefing, or to a place Steve doesn't know. But for the few minutes that Steve reminds himself of the taste of Bucky's mouth, he remembers the feeling he'd thought he'd lost forever: stopped time.

"I won't disappear if you let me go," Bucky says into Steve's skin as he plants small kisses on his jaw. Steve chuckles and grabs on tighter.

Awwwww. <33

<333

Oh, so many feelings. I love this.

Thank you!

Oh, this is lovely. I especially like how tactful Maria is, and how reassuring Steve is to Bucky that they can show public displays of affection in the future.

Thanks! I'm a big fan of Maria's competence in general, and I love the thought that Steve could be Bucky's ambassador to their new time, so I'm glad that worked for you.

<3 <3 <3

Thank you so much! OH STEVE. OH BUCKY.

I'm glad to have an excuse to write Steve/Bucky (I LOVE THEM), so thanks for posting the prompt! :D

Oh god, yes, can this be canon? Please?

Don't I wish. :D

"It's okay," Steve says. "We can do this now."

Bucky's smile returns, and he sets a hand at the back of Steve's neck. "I like the future already."

This made me smile.

stopped time.

Oh, my heart. <3 (Also, I want an icon of that moment! You make me believe it exists!)

Awwww, my hearrrrrt. This is so cute and wonderful and *____*

OH MY LORD. Steve! Bucky! Just... there's so much awesome here, I love it!

"Now, don't get him too excited," the nurse cautioned. "Your friend's been through a lot, and he's still on the mend."

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes--he wasn't stupid--and answered with a polite, "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled kindly at him. "Fifteen minutes, okay?" His face must have given away his shock of disappointment, because her smile slipped away to be replaced by a sympathetic look. "I know, but he really does need his rest. You can come back this afternoon, and maybe even this evening, too, if he's not too tired."

"Okay," Bucky said, impatient with the need to see Steve right now. He could try to sweet talk one of the nurses into letting him stay for a longer visit later, when they'd all seen how much better Steve felt when Bucky was around.

The nurse smiled at him again and motioned him towards an open door. "He's right in there. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

Bucky remembered to say, "Thanks," at the last second, when he was already through the doorway. Steve was down at the very end of the room, just visible behind the screen that sheltered his bed. There were other beds lined up along the walls, most of them filled with other sick kids, but Bucky didn't pay them any mind. He hurried down the length of the room--not running, but close--and peeked around the screen to make sure Steve was awake.

He was, his eyes fixed on the window by his bed, staring at the tenement across the street, and Bucky's eyes followed his by habit, trying to see what Steve saw. The building looked busy and alive: laundry flapping in the wind, birds settling on the windowsills for a moment before flying away again, a few kids playing on the fire escape.

"Nice view," he said, and Steve's head whipped around to look at him, already grinning.

"Bucky!" he said.

There was a chair next to Steve's bed and Bucky sat down, dragging it closer to the bedside a little gingerly. Steve was even skinnier than usual, his face pale in a way that was almost a relief after having seen the bright red rash from his scarlet fever, but that still didn't look healthy. Bucky was half-scared to breathe on him, he looked so fragile.

Of course, Steve being Steve, he didn't let how bad he had to be feeling slow him down for an instant. He nodded at the window and said, "This is new. They had me in an isolation ward until this morning--didn't want the disease to spread--and the only view in there was of the brick wall ten feet across the alley. Wish they'd let me have a pencil and paper now, but the doctor says I need to rest."

"Maybe I could smuggle something in," Bucky volunteered. "They're only letting me stay a few minutes, but I'm allowed to come back this afternoon."

Steve's face lit up, and Bucky added sternly, "But only if you promise to take it easy. I can't see how just drawing could hurt you, but it's no good if you get so excited about your picture that you don't sleep when you need it."

"I promise," Steve said. "Trust me, I don't wanna be here any longer than I have to. I'm just going stir crazy in here with nothing to do."

"I bet," Bucky said. He hated being sick himself, and all of his illnesses were mild enough that he could at least stay at home for them, with his own toys and books and his annoying little sister for company.

"I'm really glad you came to visit me," Steve added, sounding almost shy, and Bucky flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. As if he hadn't been twice as wild to see Steve as Steve was to see him.

"The neighborhood hasn't been the same without you," he said.

"Oh, yeah?" Steve said, obviously not believing him even though Bucky was only speaking the truth. He coughed abruptly once, twice, and Bucky felt the sound seize in his own chest, but Steve just shook his head in muted frustration. "Well, what's been happening that I should know about?" he asked when he'd caught his breath.

"Not much," Bucky said, shrugging. He told Steve about the black and white puppy Harry Whalen had gotten and about the Studebaker President Eight sedan he'd seen parked right around the block for half an hour and how Billy Ross had cut his middle finger almost to the bone playing mumblety-peg. (He didn't tell Steve about how he'd been the one to scrounge up a mostly clean handkerchief for Billy's finger and to walk him home, both of them furiously ignoring the tears spilling down Billy's cheeks.)

Steve was quieter than usual, though he nodded along with all of Bucky's stories, his eyes bright and interested, and Bucky found himself talking faster like he wanted to reward Steve's attention. Or maybe it was just that he wanted to distract himself from that uncanny quiet, disrupted occasionally by the heartstopping sound of Steve's coughs. A couple of times, Steve let Bucky pass him the glass of water on his bedside table, but mostly he waved it away and asked for Bucky to continue his story.

Much too soon, the nurse who'd shown him to Steve's room was back. Bucky forced a smile even though his stomach was sinking in disappointment. "Sorry, it's time," the nurse said; Steve's face went blank, just as it always did when he was upset about something and didn't want to show it.

"I'm coming," Bucky said and stood up. The nurse, who seemed pretty swell as far as nurses went, gave him an encouraging nod and stepped away a few feet to give Bucky a chance to say goodbye.

"I'll be back real soon," Bucky promised. "You should try to take a nap now, so that you're awake when I get back, okay?"

Steve nodded, a determined look on his face that Bucky would've thought meant no more than that Steve resolved to follow his advice except that he also said, "Sure, Bucky. But, listen, it's okay if you can't come back today, if you're too busy. I know it's not a lot of fun--"

"Stop being stupid," Bucky interrupted fiercely. "You're the most fun, always."

Steve gave him the look that meant he thought Bucky was just being nice, when Bucky wasn't, not at all; he was way too selfish to be as nice as Steve believed he was. That expression always made Bucky feel like a heel, but even more so when Steve still looked so sick and when it hadn't been three days since Bucky had stopped worrying that Steve might die. Bucky choked a little on the sudden lump in his throat and leaned down to kiss Steve's thin cheek, too damned grateful to have Steve there to worry about his own dignity.

"I'll be back this afternoon," he said roughly, not quite able to meet Steve's eyes. Then he whispered, "Think of a good hiding place for your paper and pencil."

The smile that lit up Steve's face was too bright to ignore, and Bucky grinned back at him helplessly for a long moment until the nurse cleared her throat pointedly, and he had to skedaddle before she got annoyed enough to disinvite him from returning later.

Oh boys. This is lovely. <3

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it.

"Stop being stupid," Bucky interrupted fiercely. "You're the most fun, always."

Oh Steve!! Oh Bucky!! *snuggles them both*

They're both pretty adorable. :-) Thanks for the comment!

Oh My, I'll never get tired of those two, never!

<3

Oh, me, either. :-) I love them both so much. Glad you enjoyed the story!

Oh, my heart. I love this look at them, Steve's doubts and Bucky's loyalty and all the details of the world around them.

Thank you very much! This was a fun story to research; I'm so pleased it worked for you.

Oh, this is so lovely. Boys! And all their feeeelings!

Thanks so much! One of my absolute favorite things is writing stories in which the characters are totally in love with each other, they just don't realize it yet. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

(Technically this is supposed to be Steve/Bucky, but it's mostly Clint and a shade of Clint/Coulson snuck in when I least expected her)

Natasha was curled up in an armchair and reading a magazine when Clint stuck his head into the living room and said, "How's it going?"

"His pacing was irritating me so I sent him outside," Natasha informed him solemnly as she flicked a page.

Clint squinted through floor to ceiling glass doors that led out to the terrace. Bucky was out there, pacing back and forth as he sucked on a cigarette, bundled up against the cold in an overcoat that was at least two sizes too large for him, his face half obscured by the big red scarf wrapped around his neck.

"You couldn't have sent him down to the gym for time out," Clint said as he watched a flurry of snow dust the shoulders of Bucky's overcoat. "It's below freezing out there."

"Somehow I don't think he's too worried about that," Natasha murmured and she turned another page. "Is there an ETA yet?"

"About ten, maybe fifteen minutes." Clint flopped onto the couch opposite Natasha and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Where are we up to with the countdown?"

"Seventy two hours, give or take."

"He hasn't tried to abscond to the airport again, has he?"

"That was hour seventy and we'd only just found out that they'd lost contact with Steve's plane," Natasha reminded him. "Trying to steal one of Tony's aircraft is a perfectly reasonable reaction if you ask me."

"You try telling Tony that."

"Tony just needs to get over himself."

"You try telling Tony that," Clint said again with a smirk, and then caught the cushion that sailed his way with both hands.

"How long now?" Natasha asked.

"About two minutes less than the last time you asked. Don't worry," Clint added as she raised an eyebrow at him, "babysitting duty is nearly done."

"I wouldn't have to do it at all you hadn't proved so horribly unreliable," Natasha pointed out to him.

Clint cocked an eyebrow at her. "If a guy wants to crawl into a bottle of scotch as a coping mechanism, far be it from me to stop him."

"You didn't have to go along for the ride, though."

"I am also a big fan of not letting someone drown their sorrows alone," Clint said with complete conviction. "I like to think it's one of my better qualities."

"At least we didn't have a repeat of hour thirty," Natasha mused.

"I never knew Bruce had that in him," Clint agreed. "The big guy, yeah, but Bruce?"

"Someone had to be the rational one."

"I was rational," Clint insisted, waving his hands about for emphasis. "I just happened to also be massively hung-over at the time. And seriously, you can't blame the guy for freaking out just a little. If I'd been in his shoes, I would have done more than just put my fist through a wall; I'd have demolished the entire room."

"I guess you're right," Natasha said and they both looked toward the terrace.

Bucky had finally stopped pacing and was leaning against the balustrade, his eyes focused on some unknown point of the Manhattan skyline and the tension in his shoulders almost palpable. With his sharp eyes Clint could just make out the bruise that marred his right cheek, a legacy of Bruce's' solution to helping him calm down after they'd heard that, even though Steve and his pilot were safe and well after their plane had gone off the radar somewhere over the Beaufort Sea, it was going to be at least twenty-four hours before they could be airlifted back to New York because as it turns out, not even Nick Fury can control the weather.

The sound of approaching footsteps made them both swivel around, but it was only Bruce, looking hopeful and anxious all at once as he entered the living room.

"Any news?" he asked.

"Not long now," Clint said, checking his watch. "Tony said he'd text me once they were in the building."

"Thank god for that," Bruce sighed and he sagged into the armchair next to Natasha's. "I do not want a repeat of yesterday."

"None of us do," Natasha replied, echoing the sentiment of the room.

"Hey, heads up," Clint said as his jeans pocket buzzed. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the message. "They're on their way up. ETA in less time than you can say schnadenfreude."

"Gesudheit," Bruce responded absently and suddenly the tension that had been brewing for the last three days finally broke and without really meaning to they all found themselves laughing.

The laughter died as the 'ding' of the elevation rang out and Clint found himself holding his breath as they waited for the doors to slide open. He glanced at Natasha, who had a similarly expectant look on her face, and time seemed to just hang there until suddenly the room was filled with Steve making a beeline for the terrace while Tony, Coulson and Pepper brought up the rear.

"Bucky!" Steve called out and Clint watched as Bucky's head whipped around and he darted across the terrace, flinging himself into Steve's arms as Steve stepped through the door.

"Oh, thank god for that," Clint breathed as he watched Steve and Bucky mash themselves together and begin to furiously make out.

"Amen," Coulson said softly as he came to a stop behind the couch and rested his hands on Clint's shoulders.

"Hey, as much as we're all loving this reunion show," Tony said. "I've just flown a plane to bumfuck Canada and back and I really could use a drink."

"Yeah, actually, I think they could do with a little privacy," Bruce said, getting to his feet.

"I've organized some lunch for us in the main dining room," Pepper said as they all shuffled to their feet and started toward the elevator.

"And booze?" Tony asked hopefully, winding his arm around her waist.

"Anthony Edward Stark, do you think me a fool?" she answered haughtily and rested her head on his shoulder as they wandered out of the living room ahead of Bruce and Natasha.

"I take it you've had an interesting few hours," Coulson said, falling into step with Clint.

"We coped," Clint said lightly, which was his way of telling Coulson that he'd hand over the full details once they were home and in bed. "How was your trip to Canada?"

"Fruitful," Coulson responded warmly and Clint glanced at the terrace where Steve and Bucky were still wrapped around each other, neither of them seeming to notice that it was now snowing in earnest.

"Yeah, I guess it was."

Fin

Edited 2012-06-30 08:00 (UTC)

I only paid attention to the Steve/Bucky part. <3 Thank you!

Oh, so lovely! This is so full of depth and feeling. I love all the little bits of interactions and friendships you've caught here.

Thank you!

Steve/Natasha, lessons!

"Natasha?" Steve approached her tentatively. "Can I ask you a favor?"

She turned her attention from her plate to the man standing in front of her and waited.

"I, uh, wondered if you could help me out, maybe teach me a few things?"

"I don't give dancing lessons, Steve," she answered in clipped tones.

"No, not dancing!”

He looked puzzled, so she allowed that maybe he hadn't pushed that particular button on purpose. "Did Tony put you up to this?"

"Put me up to...? I'm not sure what you mean. I mean, Tony did suggest I ask you," he raised his hands in front of him at her murderous expression, "but it's not-- I want you to teach me how to cook!"

She studied him in silence for a few moments, her disbelief written clearly across her face. "You want me to teach you how to cook."

"Yes," he replied in a rush. "Everybody else eats all of those prepared foods from tins and the freezer microwave meals and they taste like cardboard and chemicals and I mentioned something to Tony and he said I should try 'going organic' and maybe I should ask you because you like to eat, uh, healthy stuff and that you won't even let JARVIS pre-heat the oven for you so maybe you know how to cook and could maybe help me figure some stuff out?” He paused to take a breath, exhaled with, “Maybe. If you want to?”

He stood with his head bent, one hand massaging the nape of his neck. He peeked up at her through his eyelashes - nervous - with such a hopeful look on his face, she couldn't say no.
___________________

“This is called...?”

“A kampilan,” Steve answered immediately, ducking to avoid her swing.

“Good. And this?”

The knife in her hand flipped open in the time it took him to blink, and he barely caught her wrist as she thrust it toward him.

“It's a balisong,” he ground out, disarming her and pinning her to the mat. “Why do I need to know this?”

“I'm trying to teach you Eskrima,” she replied mildly, then twisted and attempted to break free.

“Yes, so you told me before.” He held her fast. “What I don't understand is what this has to do with cooking.”

“To cook you need to cut. To cut you need to know knives. Eskrima,” she explained, as if that train of logic should be obvious to anyone.

He just shook his head and smiled. “You're a swell dame.”

“Awww, are you gonna get togged to the bricks and ask me to the local gin mill for a ring-a-ding-ding?”

She took advantage of his surprise and flipped him over her head. She pulled a wicked-looking curved blade from its hiding place and smiled. “This is called a karambit...”

___________________

Natasha leaned over and swiped Steve's fork before it got to his mouth, miraculously not spilling its contents on the counter before it reached her mouth.

“This isn't my recipe,” Natasha observed around a mouthful of piping hot potato cake.

“No, uh,” Steve hesitated. “It isn't. I thought that, well, since you put applesauce on it when you served it that maybe I'd try cooking some apples in it, but it was probably a dumb idea. I'm sorry, I'll stick to the recipe next time.”

Natasha swallowed, feeling the burn all the way into her stomach. “No, it's good! You're a natural.”

“Really?” Steve smiled shyly.

“Yes, really,” Natasha smiled back. “And you are as cute as a bug's ear when you blush like that.”

“I'm-- Um.” His face flushed a deeper red, and he busied himself with dolloping sour cream onto his plate.

“Hey,” Natasha bumped him with her hip, swept her index finger through his sour cream and deposited in her mouth with smack of her lips. “What are you doing after you're done here?”

“Uh, nothing really. Why?” He took a bite of his food and hummed in satisfaction.

“There's this place I found, plays Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, that kind of thing. I thought maybe we could go dancing.” She let out a nervous breath. “Maybe. If you want to?”

She was leaning against the counter, her eyes darting here and there before her gaze locked with his. She was nervous, had such a hopeful look in her eyes, and he couldn't say no.

“That sounds fun,” he told her, a warmth spreading through him at the thought of Natasha in his arms, wearing something clingy, “but, I, uh, don't know how to dance.”

She shrugged, as if that were inconsequential. “It's not much different than Eskrima, really, and you picked that up easy enough.”

Steve gave a burst of laughter. “Yeah, that only took me three months.”

“And now you're as good as an eskrimador who's been practicing for years,” she praised him. “Really, you learn some basic steps, and the rest is just instinct. I'll teach you.”

Steve swallowed the flippant reply that had almost escaped his lips. He'd asked Clint a couple of months ago what the deal was with Natasha and dancing, and was given a very laconic answer regarding false memories and brainwashing, along with an admonishment that maybe there was someone else better suited to be answering his questions.

“I'd love to go dancing with you,” he told her sincerely.

“Great!” Natasha's reply was overly loud. She leaned up and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Wear something nice. It'll be a real ring-a-ding-ding.”

She slapped his buttocks as she walked out of the room, and he couldn't help but smile.

She really was a swell dame.

Edited 2012-06-28 01:43 (UTC)

This is ADORABLE! Thank you so much! <3

You're welcome! I had a lot of fun writing it.

I had hoped it would turn out a little less chaste than it did, but it didn't cooperate.

Oh, Steve, you are cute as a button in this. And yes, she is a swell dame!

There was that split second after he launched her into the air in the movie where he's got this look on his face, and the first thing that hit me was him thinking that she's just so swell. They're totally MFEO.

She teaches him knife vocabulary by *sparring* with him. Oh, Natasha. ♥

You can't be a good cook if you don't first learn the art of Filipino stick and knife fighting!

=P

THIS IS MY FAVOURITE THING EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. Particularly Tasha's use of 30s slang.

=D =D =D Thank you.

Old time slang is fascinating to me. I would watch old movies from the 30s with my Grandma, and she would tell me which characters talked like real life and which ones didn't.

This website is a GREAT resource. (It was linked from this site, which is another data mine.)

This is really cute.

Glad you liked it! =)

Steve/Thor, laughter

When everyone else in the Tower rubs Steve the wrong way - Tony is being Tony, Natasha and Clint are brooding or being their own little social bubble, Bruce is trying to hide from himself - he can always count on Thor to cheer him up. So one gray rainy day, when all of Steve's sketches turn out melancholy and everyone else's mood matches the weather, he knocks on Thor's door and asks to spar.

Thor, of course, thinks that sparring on the roof is the best idea ever. What the hey, Steve thinks, it's a workout, and the rain isn't bad when he can slip into the immersive mode of being that is fighting. They stop, eventually, and dissect the session, discussing what worked, what didn't, and how they can apply the lessons to fighting as the Avengers.

"You are a good man, Steven," Thor says, clapping him companionably on the shoulder.

"Thanks," Steve says, smiling honestly. "You're a good man, too, you know," he says, nudging Mjolnir with the side of his foot where Thor had lain it on the roof. It moves. They look at each other, at the hammer, at each other, both looking completely shocked.

"Lift it, comrade," Thor urges.

So he grasps the handle and pulls - and the hammer comes with him.

"Whosoever is worthy..." mutters Thor. "My friend, this is marvelous, as well as a distinct tactical advantage. Try to summon it to you."

When Steve steps away and holds out his hand, willing the hammer to him, nothing happens. "Oh, well," Steve says, but Thor holds up a hand and says, "Wait, I will try to will it to you."

And suddenly Mjolnir flies into Steve's hand. He gives it an experimental toss; it returns to him. He throws it to Thor; it stays with Thor.

"Amazing," Thor says, throwing Mjolnir back to Steve. "See if you can fly," he suggests.

"I'd be more comfortable if you were right here to grab it in case it stops working."

"Very well, that is no problem." And Thor steps up and wraps his arms around Steve, holding him tightly. "Now hold out your arm and will yourself to fly. It helps if you spin it."

Suddenly Steve is flying! He almost panics, wraps his free arm around Thor's solid shoulders, and starts laughing, with only an edge of hysteria. He turns and swoops, and feels like he almost drops Thor- "Maybe carrying you wasn't the best choice for my first flight," he remarks.

"Then let me take over," Thor says, calling Mjolnir to his grasp from Steve's. For a heart-stopping moment, they drop into freefall; then Mjolnir catches them again and Thor brings them back to the roof of the tower.

Now Steve lets all the fear catch up and breaks down laughing: laughing because he almost fell to what would probably have been his death on the streets of New York, because even he might break into pieces from that height; laughing because of course he wasn't going to die, he had Thor with him; laughing because the alternative is to break down completely.

He expects Thor to laugh with him, still having difficulty with realizing Thor complexly in his mind, still confusing "ignorant of Earthly things" with "stupid" even though he hates it when the others do that to him. So he's pleasantly surprised when Thor straightens him up and holds him, stroking his hair and rubbing his shoulders until he's calm. He's pleasantly surprised when Thor says, "Do not worry. Next time there will be more control, unless you do not wish there to be a next time. Perhaps we can ask Tony to act as a safety."

Steve takes a jagged, shuddering breath and exhales smoothly. Calm. He's calm. "I think- I think I don't want Tony knowing I can handle Mjolnir. Let's surprise him. He could do with some surprising." He's calm, but he doesn't try to break Thor's hold. He feels safe, for the first time since he lost Peggy, for almost the first time since he lost Bucky.

"You are well?" Thor moves away enough to look him in the eyes. "I did not mean for you to be frightened."

"No, I'm good."

Thor nods, once. Kisses Steve on the left cheek, right cheek, mouth, once. "You are a good comrade. Shall we celebrate your newfound ability?"

Steve blinks, swallows, says, "Celebrate how?"

"In whatever manner you feel appropriate! Although perhaps we should begin by changing into dry clothes."

Right. It's raining. Steve nods, leans in, returns the three (ritualized?) kisses. "Yes. That would be appropriate. Let's watch a movie neither of us have heard of."

"I like this idea," says Thor, and grins. Steve grins back. It's infectious.

So morning finds the two of them asleep on the couch, curled up next to each other, Mjolnir cuddled between them. That is, until Clint dumps a bucket of water on them, and Tony videotapes it because "the internet needs to know!", and Natasha smirks from the sidelines and Bruce sips his herbal tea in the corner. But Steve and Thor just look at each other and laugh.

awwwwwwww, Steve is totally worthy! And this is adorable and sweet and wonderful :D And oh my gosh, how did you know that Steve and Thor watching movies together is like my favorite thing in life.

Aww, thank you! :D I totally did not know that, but now I am tempted to write more :q *puts it on list*

Awwww! This is totally adorable!

Thank you! ^__^ Another is in the works, in which they watch a movie neither of them has heard of :q

Omigosh, this was wonderful! So full of joy.

Thanks! :D My favorite genre is fluff *g*

Edited 2012-07-02 03:20 (UTC)

Awwww, this is so very sweet and happymaking! Steve being worthy of Mjolnir will pretty much always be my favourite thing ever. *g* And I really loved the ritualized kisses!

It is not possible to have enough of Steve being worthy. *nodnod* He pushes allll my paladin buttons, that I didn't know I had.

And thank you! It seemed appropriate - the hardest thing about these ficlets is that I don't want them to be building on assumptions, or to be assuming a prior relationship. But Thor would be way less uptight about that kind of thing, I think - similar to the fic with Natasha & Thor and the kissing of the hand somewhere else on this post.

Tony/Pepper, bubbly

"Tony, we had a deal."

"What? I'm being quiet."

"You're doing that thing."

"I'm a man of many talents, Pep - need a little more specificity there."

"The humming thing."

"I told you, it's a high-frequency resonance from the arc reactor. I could, y'know, shut it off, except-"

"No, you're actually humming. I think it's Black Sabbath."

"Oh. Well, I'm informed I have a mellifluous voice. Jarvis, don't I have a mellifluous voice?"

"Very soothing, sir."

"See, there you go."

"Tony, I'm trying to take a bath."

"And I'm being quiet!"

"Tony...."

"Here, look, I'll kiss it better. You have great ears, have I ever told you that? Very cute. And the little bit underneath smells great. With the bubbles, too, is that lavender?"

Pepper rolled her eyes, reached up to grab the back of Tony's shirt, and pulled him into the bath with her.

*high pitched squeaking sounds*

THIS IS ADORABLE. <3

I bet Tony's not even quiet when he sleeps. But Pepper doesn't really mind.

Yay, I'm glad you liked it! I'm still not over the movie turning my belief in Tony/Pepper 180 degrees, from "possibly unhealthy" back around to "too adorable for anything but threesomes". ;)

Pepper thought she was going to relax with the bath, but I'm pretty sure she ends up relaxed anyway. Tony is very goal-oriented.

Oh, so cute!

They get all the credit for that! But thank you :)

Heee! This is a great look at Pepper and Tony, and Pepper's Dealing With Tony mechanisms.

They work very well together, I think, but I suspect very few of their plans survive contact with the other person. In a good way!

Steve/Coulson, adoration

The first time Phil Coulson sees Steve Rogers in the flesh, his breath hitches and something in his chest tightens - this is the man he's idolized his whole life. He sits next to the enclosure holding Steve's gently thawing body and rests a hand against the high-tech glass, awed.

As if to give him a moment of privacy, every SHIELD agent in the room happens to be turned away for a moment - just long enough for Phil to self-consciously press a reverent kiss to the glass next to his hand for the greatest soldier who ever lived, brought back to life.

--

After the last time Steve Rogers sees Phil Coulson in the flesh, when Fury's tossed Phil's trading cards on the table in front of him, Steve pays one last visit to the room where he died. He kneels next to the blood stain on the wall and remembers, mourning.

He's completely alone and he places a gentle kiss just above the blood stain, where he imagines Coulson's forehead would have been, gentle rites for a man who was not a soldier, but every bit as brave, unable to be brought back to life.

Oh, this is so lovely and so sad *___;

thank you!

=(

This was great. Thanks for posting it.

Thank you :)

So many feelings. I think my heart just broke a little bit.

thank you <3

Oh, god. So lovely and so, so sad!

thank you!

this is really late but i'm commenting because i'm rolling around my bed in emotions. agonizing emotions. ugly crying emotions. you are beautiful and this is beautiful and i am going to take off all of my clothes and jump into the ocean to drown myself in feelings.

oh my goodness

thank you

After the revelation that rumours of Phil's demise had been greatly exaggerated, there's a party at Stark Tower. It doesn't take much for Tony to throw a party, but this one's actually organised by Pepper, so will at least start out tasteful, civilised, and impeccably hosted. Whether it ends that way is another question. Phil's only just hobbled out of full time bed rest and has no intention of indulging in any antics, frolics, and/or shenanigans that Tony might be planning. He's going to sit here and drink one beer -- maybe two if he's being adventurous -- and not doing anything to over-exert himself. Doctor's orders.

He's also apparently going to spend a lot of time saying sorry to people. He'd expected Clint and Natasha to be pissed, and they are, and it's not so surprising that Stark's taken it personally because he always thinks that everything is about him, but he's taken aback by the reaction from everyone else. Thor grabs him in a slightly painful hug, and Dr Banner makes a point of coming over to tell Phil just how glad he is to see him up and about again. Pepper sits next to him on the sofa, lacing her arm through his and making sure he's got all the food he could possibly want.

"You're a good person," Phil tells her seriously as she brings him a plate of bacon sandwich. "Thank you."

She smiles at him and kisses his cheek. "You're welcome. Just promise not to do it again."

"Yes ma'am."

Then Pepper looks over his shoulder. Her eyes widen slightly and she makes an unexpected exit. Phil turns his head and spots Captain America walking towards him. He takes a breath. It's fine, he can do this. Captain Rogers is just being polite, they'll make small talk for a minute or two and then he'll go away and talk to someone else and Phil will be able to breathe again.

Phil vows to make no further comments along the lines of 'I watched you while you were sleeping', a mortifying moment he can't stop playing in his head.

He nods at Captain Rogers and sets down his plate of sandwiches and his beer. "Evening, sir," he says, as Captain Rogers sits down next to him. Their knees nearly touch. Phil tries not to panic.

Captain Rogers laughs. "At ease, soldier," he says. "And call me Steve - we're both off duty."

"Yes, s-- I mean. Steve." His voice catches on the word, and this is already heading for disaster territory again. He tries a smile. Steve smiles back, and it's warmer this time, not strained and uncomfortable like he was on the day that Phil collected him. Okay, maybe this is okay. Phil suddenly wishes he still had his beer to occupy his hands, but maybe it's a good thing that he doesn't.

Steve reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a package, wrapped up in brown paper. "Here, I got you something. It's kinda stupid, but I thought you might have more use for it than I do."

"No, no, you didn't have to," Phil says, taking the package. "That's very --" he trails off as he unties the string and the paper falls away, revealing a pack of cards. He picks it up, frowning. It looks brand new, shining gold font spelling out CAPTAIN AMERICA over a picture of Steve in his new uniform.

"It's a prototype," Steve explains. "I got sent a few samples for approval - apparently my reappearance in the world is an excellent marketing opportunity." He shrugs. "Seems like some things haven't changed. Anyway, they're going to release the final version in a few weeks, but that set's practically one of kind. I know it's not the same as the ones you had before, but I thought -- Well. Maybe you'd like them."

Phil's lost for words. He opens the pack, careful not to dent the packaging, and gingerly pulls out the cards inside. There are ten of them, some of them very similar to the vintage designs, and some brand new and showing Captain America posing heroically in the middle of Manhattan. Each one has Steve's signature in the corner.

The last card is a picture of all six Avengers, and when Phil turns it over he sees six signatures on the back. He clenches his teeth and swallows hard in an effort to keep it together.

"Thank you," he says quietly, staring at the picture, the team that he helped make. "Thank you very much."

With an effort, he meets Steve's eye. It's a little overwhelming, seeing Captain America in person. For all the many photos and videos that Phil's studied over the years, Steve is much more, well, more in person. And Steve looks comfortable, his smile effortlessly happy, and Phil can't quite process just how much hero worship he's feeling right now. He slowly puts the cards back into their box and puts the box into a pocket.

"We'll try not to let Fury gets his hands on that set," Steve says.

Phil laughs. "Yes, I'd appreciate that."

Steve leans forward and rests his hand on Phil's knee, smiling at him. Phil's eyes go huge, and he thinks calm, composed thoughts furiously but his heart is pounding because what the hell, what the hell, his lifelong hero is smiling at him and touching him and leaning in close and kissing his cheek and his brain's about to short out.

"Welcome back," Steve says softly. "I'm really happy you're okay."

"I -- um. So am I. Thank you."

There's a yell from across the room. "Rogers! C'mere, you need you to make up numbers for Mario Kart!"

Steve pulls a face. "Duty calls, apparently."

Phil nods at him seriously. "I understand. Go get 'em."

Steve salutes, grinning, then squeezes Phil's uninjured shoulder. "Mount a rescue mission if it gets ugly, will you?"

"Yes sir."

Steve goes over to Tony, who's beckoning at him with a worrying glint in his eye.

Phil sits very still. He wants to make sure that every moment of what just happened is imprinted on his memory forever. He feels dizzy and light-headed, like if he stood up just now he might float clean off the ground. He presses his fingers to his cheek reverentially.

Pepper reappears. "Phil, oh my god. Are you okay?" She smiles at him fondly. "You look you might pass out."

"If I do, it's due to my serious injuries," he tells her. "Just so that we're clear."

"Oh, of course." She nudges his arm. "Well?"

"He's just -- he's amazing," Phil says breathlessly before he thinks about it. "I don't know what to say."

"How about 'Pepper, you throw the best parties'?"

Phil turns to face her. "Pepper, you throw the absolute best parties," he says, with total conviction.

"I know," she says, pleased, and pats his arm.

Phil wonders if he's ever going to float back down to earth again. Probably not. He's okay with that.

oh my god, this is the sweetest most perfect thing! All Phil's FEELINGS :D :D :D brb rereading ten times

Oh my goodness, it's a happy one! And it's incredibly adorable! *squees*

Oh, oh, OH PHIL! And Steve being all... STEVE! Wonderful, just lovely.

THIS IS THE CUTEST THING THAT EVER DID LIVE *CLUTCHES IT* ♥_________________________________♥

Heeeee!!! Oh, Phil! This is utterly adorkable!

"If I do, it's due to my serious injuries," he tells her. "Just so that we're clear."

AWWWWW. And then Pepper, with the fond mocking! ♥

i am literally just lying on my bed screaming right now. i think i woke up my girlfriend, woops. this is the most fabulous fic i have ever read and it was just, i can't even, i am trying to describe my feelings and how beautiful and glorious and hilarious this was but i cannot because i am burdened with glorious emotion.

Sorry this is late, short and gen.

~~~~

His Mom kisses him good night and turns out the light. Phil knows he's protected in the dark though, even with his Dad gone, because Captain America won't let him get hurt. His bedroom walls are covered in Captain America posters, his bedding and his little beside cabinet.

He's safe and sound as he goes to sleep.

That was really sweet :-) in my opinion, one should never apologize for genfic

Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

Pepper/Tony/Bruce, sharing

It isn't that Tony is terrible at sharing - because he is, have you met Tony Stark recently?

It's that Bruce is just as terrible.

Pepper doesn't really mind, though. She's grown accustomed to being the rope in a really adult version of tug-of-war; whether it's Tony's grabby hands on her waist or Bruce's insistent pulling on her hair. It gets even better when all three of them are naked and Tony and Bruce decide to get competitive.

Tony's decided on some ridiculous set of rules - they can't use their hands, and she's blindfolded by one of Tony's ties - and she stretches back against the mountain of pillows ("why do you need fifteen throw pillows, Tony?" "Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, you never know when you'll need an extra one"). The silk is cool across her eyes, and she bats Tony's hands away from "checking" its tightness. Bruce laughs, somewhere to her left, which means it has to be his mouth brushing lightly over her shoulder and trailing up her jaw.

Pepper tries to reach out, wanting more of a clue as to who is where, but Tony makes a disapproving sound and his hands come from somewhere to wrap around her wrists. He presses a kiss to her left temple - he could be anywhere, this is frustrating beyond all measure and Tony knows it - and then to her mouth. Then the brush of goatee stops, and Pepper groans before another mouth replaces it.

Bruce and Tony trade off kisses: slow and teasing, flickers of tongue and denying her more (that's Tony); hard and dirty, almost too rough (Bruce, of course). Each one refusing to let the other have more than a few seconds, and Pepper almost can't breathe.

"I'm going to-"

"I don't think she's in much of a position to do anything," Bruce remarks offhandedly. "Don't you, Mr. Stark?"

"That was the point, Dr. Banner, was it not?" Tony asks, innocence in his voice. She can just picture his smirk, though.

"I thought the point was to make her come with our hands tied behind our backs?"

Tony's laugh comes from right below her breast, warm breath raising goosebumps on her skin.

"Absolutely."

awwww! I love them all, and I especially love how Pepper can tell who's who by their makeout styles. <3!

They're so lovely together, aren't they? Pepper does not need her eyes to tell her who's kissing her - if the goatee weren't a dead giveaway, the kissing would be her second clue.

So glad you liked it!

HA! Yes, I like it!

Thank you!

This is both really funny and really hot.

Thank you! I feel Avengers smut should have both those qualities, and I'm really glad it worked, first time popping my Avengers cherry and all.

Mmm...very hot.

Thank you! Bruce and Tony need practice with the sharing, and I don't think Pepper minds.

aw, lovely and hot! Bruce and Tony calling one another Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner in bed is nice touch.

The tower is still a wreck and not really any place for houseguests. Still, Pepper supposes that Dr Banner probably isn't particularly high maintenance (unlike some super genius scientists she could mention), so hopefully he won't mind too much. As long as the Hulk doesn't put in an unexpected appearance complete with demands for guest quarters that miraculously don't look like aliens just tried to blow them up, they should be fine.

She kisses Tony goodbye before he heads out to witness Loki's defeated return to Asgard (not that she knows anything about any of that) for whatever the alien Norse god version of trial by supreme court is. She goes to check on the room she's set up for Bruce - there's not much in there, but she's put a few sets of clothes in the dresser after Tony had bemoaned the state of Bruce's wardrobe to at her length. JARVIS is always around should anything else come up, but there's a bed and a bathroom and a coffee maker and a computer, which seems to cover all of the necessities.

She's read the files, but she trusts Tony's judgement far more. He's actually an excellent judge of character when he wants to be, and if he likes and trusts Bruce, Pepper's sure she will too. Besides, Tony with a crush is one of the most endearing varieties of Tony that she knows, and she's more than happy to facilitate it. For all that Tony plays up his playboy, many notches on the bedpost reputation, he's actually been much less interested in casual hookups with other people since they started dating, perhaps because when it comes down to it he'd rather be having sex with someone he cares about as a person, given the chance. It's one of Tony's many secrets that Pepper expects to take to the grave.

She gets an alert from JARVIS to say that Mr Stark & guest are about to arrive, so she hurries down in the elevator to meet them. Although she knows that Tony's fine, Manhattan's still torn to shreds all around her and after watching it all from an unbearable distance, she's going to be much happier whenever he's in her direct vision for the immediate future. (She can still see the shaky camera footage of that tiny red and gold figure shooting up towards a hole in the sky, and she'd really prefer to make some new memories to write over that one.)

She reaches the lobby just as the front door swings open and Tony and Bruce walk in. Bruce is looking a little awkward, but Tony's arm is swung easily around him and he's grinning, pulling his sunglasses off.

"Hi honey, I'm home," he sing-songs. "I brought you a present!"

"Now really, that's no way to talk about your guest," says Pepper. "I do apologise on his behalf, Bruce, though I'm afraid he's more or less always like this."

Bruce smiles, looking a little worried but pleased. "I'm starting to figure, yeah."

Tony swings a magnanimous hand between them. "Bruce, meet my lady love, the magnificent Pepper Potts."

"Lady love?" Pepper mouths. "Really?"

Tony shrugs airily. "And Pepper, my sweet, this is Dr Bruce Banner, one of the greatest minds of our generation and occasional big green rage monster."

"But Bruce is fine."

"It's so nice to meet you," Pepper says. Bruce goes for the handshake while she moves to kiss his cheek, and they bump a little awkwardly together.

"Sorry," Bruce says. "Social niceties, still refreshing my memory on some of them."

"Just make sure you don't pick up any of Tony's many bad habits in the meantime, won't you?"

"I make no promises."

"Aaaaanyway," Tony says, stepping neatly between them and holding Pepper's hips. "Bruce, if you'll excuse me for a second I need to make out with Pepper."

"Oh! Ah, sure, go right ahead." Bruce steps back and examines the ceiling with great interest.

Pepper tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "Tony," she starts, reproachful, because this seems a little rude. But Tony's right there being all cute with his face, so her objections fade away again.

She rests her arms on his shoulders and leans in to meet him. They kiss lazily, Tony tightening his hold on her hips while she sinks into the warm familiarity of their mouths sliding together. She draws back with a satisfied hum, and the look of open affection and happiness on Tony's face does wonders for her soul.

Tony reaches out behind them and tugs Bruce forward.

"Um," Bruce says. "I really don't mind giving you two some space, it's fine."

"See, Pepper, he's so cute!" Tony plants a wet, smacking kiss on Bruce's cheek, beaming at both of them. "Can we keep him?"

Pepper leans in and pecks a kiss on Bruce's other cheek. She's gratified to watch him turn a delectable shade of pink - it suits him just as much as the green does.

"Of course we can," she says.

HEARTS IN MY EYES! I love Pepper's POV, how she's exasperated but charmed by Tony, and how she loves facilitating Tony's crushes . . . awwww! Also her quiet need to see Tony after he's been in danger is really lovely. And Bruce is so adorable! omg! I DEFINITELY WOULD LIKE THEM TO KEEP HIM AMY!

adorables!

AWWWWW!!! HOW SO ADORABLE? HOW?

Darcy/Clint, chocolate

It always seems to be quarter past two in the morning when Darcy wakes up these days. She’d trained herself into it being at least four in New Mexico, but something about the lights and the noise around the tower has destroyed that. No matter what time she goes to bed, no matter how many cups of warm milk she drinks, or hot baths she takes, she can guarantee she will wake up at quarter past two in the morning.

Of course, usually, at quarter past two there isn’t anyone else up. Which is why she thinks it is perfectly justifiable to, maybe, squeak a little when she pads into the kitchen and sees Clint sitting on the sideboard.

“Just getting in?” Darcy says, as she opens the fridge for the water filter.

Clint just looks at her. “Yeah, from a raucous night of partying.”

“You weren’t partying. Coulson sent you to an embassy dinner. With Natasha.” Darcy winks, and sashays past – well as much as you can in fluffy bunny slippers – “I saw the file.”

“Okay, from a night of watching other people party.” Clint says, reaching across to stir something on the hob. “I’m making hot chocolate. Want some?”

“Is it going to be anything like Natasha’s attempt?” Darcy says, wincing at the memory.

Clint snorts, slightly. “No. Unlike Tash, I believe in sugar and spice.”

“Oh thank God.” Darcy smiles. “Like, I drank it, because, well, she’s terrifying, but I thought I was never going to get rid of the taste. Please tell me she isn’t stood right behind me.”

“You’re clear.” Clint hops down off the side, and reaches into the cupboard for two mugs. Darcy can’t help tipping her head to the side to watch the effect of the stretch on his ass. No one would be able to resist, she’s fairly sure of that. “You watching my ass back there, Lewis?”

“Maybe a little.” Darcy grins sunnily. “It’s a good ass.”

“Why thank you, ma’am.” Clint winks, and pours the hot chocolate into two mugs.

“Thank you,” Darcy says through a yawn, and picks her mug up. “This smells amazing.”

“I am a man of many talents.” Clint says. “You should taste my Key Lime pie.”

“Is that a set-up for a joke?” Darcy asks, before blowing on her hot chocolate. “Because, I gotta tell you, it’s way too early for me to think up some form of pun based on pie.”

“I’m disappointed in you,” Clint says, “I thought you always had a pun for everything.”

“Usually in the mornings, after at least one cup of coffee.” Darcy says and then takes a mouthful of hot chocolate. “Oh. My. God,” she moans, “this is like an orgasm in my mouth.”

Clint raises an eyebrow, and kisses the top of her head. “I would make all the jokes about your mouth and orgasms, but I think you need to go back to bed now.”

“Fine,” Darcy says, pouting. “Write them down. Tell me them in the morning.”

Aw, this is adorable.

Thank you!

:D DARCY :D

SHE IS AMAZEFACE.

How do I not have a Darcy icon? Clearly I need to rectify that situation.

*clappyhands* YAY! This is adorable - I love it! Darcy and Clint snarking is the best. :D :D :D

I'm glad you enjoyed it! I really love the idea of Darcy and Clint just snarking at each other all the time.

Clint does have a pretty fantastic ass! :)

Trufax!

This is awesome. Their banter had me smiling the whole time, and I laughed out loud at the mouth orgasm.

♥ Clint/Darcy

Thank you! Clint and Darcy are so much fun to write!

So ridiculously cute!

Thank you!

D'awwww. Banter and hot chocolate! Though I am also sad about the lack of pie puns. You can never have too many of those. ;)

ETA: so, would you call this a 'slice of life' fic? *rimshot*

Edited 2012-06-28 18:22 (UTC)

I am sure they come to Darcy as she is falling asleep, so she writes them all down on her phone, and then reads them aloud over breakfast. Only Clint laughs.

*ba-dum-tish!*

SO CUTE. They're still one of my favorite pairings in this fandom, and banter like this is exactly the reason why.

I adore them as a pairing as well! And they are such fun to write banter!fic for.

Aww, look at them cross the platonic line without sleepy Darcy realising it :)

Natasha/Maria Hill

Is it cheating if I've written you a follow-on to another ficlet I wrote? it's this one: Peacock.

Keep breathing. Maria told herself. Concentrate.

Ujjayi, it was called, victorious breathing, a whisper sound in the base of the throat. She'd felt victorious when she'd finally mastered it, moving one step closer to mastery of her body and mind.

This moment required mastery of her senses, as well: to not be distracted by Natasha's scent, by her skin, her hair, so close to Maria's lips. Breathe. Concentrate.

Perfect balance. A perfect moment, but even perfect moments must end; why should she not reward herself? So she slid her chin forward, just enough to kiss Natasha's shoulder; inhaled, exhaled, and rolled down smoothly from the pose.

They lay side by side a moment, their breath still in perfect unison. Then Natasha reached over to tilt Maria's face towards hers; one kiss, soft as a butterfly wing, on Maria's lips, and an almost-shy smile.

"Later?" Natasha whispered.

Maria nodded. "Later." Breathe.

Wow, this is amazingly atmospheric.

Thank you! I'm a short-form writer, so I've got to find a way to pack it all in there as best I can. Thank you for reading and commenting! (I'm enjoying your stories, too - what a great idea this was!)

Hulk/anybody (or everybody)

“ALL OF YOU STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!”

Every last member of the Avengers instantly froze, like an outrageous game of Statue Tag, which was appropriate because they'd been playing Keepaway with Steve's shield. Thor and Hulk held it over their heads, neither giving ground in their tug-of-war even though they were now frozen in place.

Steve fell to the ground gracelessly, having been caught mid-leap; Tony, Natasha, and Clint all toppled onto him in a pile.

Pepper stomped across the back lawn. The look on her face as she came to a stop in front of them made them all nervous.

“I have spent 3 months coordinating this gala, wrangling with caterers, linen services, landscapers, arranging the guest list, holding the mayor's hand through seven different panicked meetings promising him that yes, the traffic situation is controlled and won't cause issues for the rest of the city, and no, the New York Philharmonic won't all die in some Avengers-caused mishap, and so help me, if you knock over even one of the potted palms, I will end every last one of you!”

“You know, Pep, they have people called assistants who can...” Tony voice trailed off as she turned her gaze directly on him. He wondered if her glare could somehow be weaponized with laser-sights, then thought better of it and dropped that line of thought immediately.

Hulk took advantage of Thor's distraction and yanked Cap's shield out of his grasp. Before the thunder god could protest, Hulk bent down and handed the shield to Steve.

“Sorry Pepper” he growled, head hung low in shame.

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“You're forgiven. Thank you for being the responsible one of the group.”

Her expression as she looked at the others spoke volumes of her opinion of the Hulk acting more mature than the rest of them.

“Sorry, Pepper,” they sing-songed in unison.

She sighed, exasperated. “You can prove you're sorry by going and getting dressed. The gala starts in an hour.”

♥___________♥

\o/

AWWWWWWW. *makes SMOOSH HANDS*

=D

Pepper is the Hulk's favorite person because she treats him just like everyone else, i.e. she yells at him the same way when they all get in trouble and expects him to behave.

Because Pepper is the MOST awesome! <3

She really is. =D

Hee! This is so cute!

=)

I've been reading a lot of angsty and/or porny fic lately, so I thought they deserved a break.

♥ So cute!

=D

They deserve some fluff every now and then.

“Sorry Pepper” he growled, head hung low in shame.

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

CUTEST IMAGE EVER.

I pictured it in my head and found it the most adorable thing to exist, so I had to write around it. Glad you liked it!

Edited 2012-06-29 03:00 (UTC)

hahahaha AWWWW! This is the SWEETEST! Poor, poor Pepper, and no end of ♥ for Hulk! oh god all of them going "Sorry, Pepper" is just too funny and cute.

They deserve a little fun every now and then! =D

I can picture them looking down and kicking the ground and being all "aww, shucks, we're in trouble," and it cracks me up so hard.

Clint/Coulson, relief.

Clint hates hospitals. He hates the smell, all antiseptic-clean to cover up the stale odor of sickness; he hates the neutral paint on the walls and the plain white tile floors; he hates the judgemental looks the nurses always shoot his way, like he’s about to make off with the entire contents of the pharmacy. But most of all, he hates hospitals because it’s where people go to die.

He’s been sitting at Coulson’s bedside for hours, maybe days. He's not really sure anymore. Normally, he’s good at waiting out the target, sitting back and taking his time to line up the perfect shot. Patience is practically his middle name (along with trouble, obnoxious, and any number of other less-than-flattering terms Coulson’s called him over the years, usually in that exasperated tone) but tonight, there’s nothing for him to aim at. This enemy won’t go down with a well-placed arrow.

He sighs and rubs his eyes, gritty with lack of sleep. Later, he’ll blame exhaustion for the fact that it takes him a full minute to realize that Coulson’s eyes are open, that he’s finally awake and staring at Clint. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Sir,” he whispers, a question, a prayer.

Coulson tries to talk, his voice barely above a rasp, but he can’t quite form words. Finally Clint shakes himself out of his stupor and grabs the cup of water off the bedside table, holding the straw in place while Coulson drinks. He pulls back after a few swallows. “Talk to me, Barton,” he whispers, his voice wrecked but tone unmistakable.

Clint nearly cries in relief. “We won, sir. Thor took Loki back to Asgard, and Stark blew up the Chitauri planet or mothership, or whatever it was. A lot of the city is rubble, but civilian casualties were less extensive than expected, given the fact that goddamn aliens attacked New York City. Sir,” he adds, belatedly. He can feel the tears threatening to spill over, and he drops to his knees by the bed, clinging to Coulson’s hand. “The director said... We thought you were dead. I thought you were dead.”

Coulson’s fingers twitch under Clint’s, as much motion as he’s capable of right now, and Clint squeezes back gently. “I was,” he rasps. “I got better.”

Clint presses his lips to Coulson’s fingers and lets the tears come.

Oh, this is beautiful. Thank you! All that feeling. Oh, Clint.

Thank you! I love Phil and Clint and ALL THEIR FEELS!

SO MANY FEELS, OMG.

Aw, that's just perfect

Thank you!

ack this is really lovely, poor Clint realizing that keeping a vigil isn't the same as waiting out a target. And lovely dry Phil, "I got better", just perfect.

Thank you so much!

::sniff:: This is really touching. Oh, Clint. I love Coulson's "I got better," it is so exactly what he would (WILL, dammit, I refuse to believe he's not coming back) say in that situation.

Thank you! (Me too! Even though, you know, JOSS. Big fan of the killing people, Joss is.)

Tony/Rhodey, suits

The Starks were dead.

It was all over the news, and all anyone could talk about. The funeral sounded like it was going to be more of a parade than a procession, two reporters had tried to get comments from them on the way in, and the next room was full of Rhodey's future superiors, but all Rhodey could see was the way Tony's hands were shaking as he tried to knot his tie.

"Hey, c'mon, let me do that," Rhodey said, covering Tony's fingers with his, and riding out the reflexive jerk as Tony tried to pull away. "You're gonna make us late," he added gruffly, and watched from under his lashes for Tony's reaction. He was so tense it almost hurt to look at him, all of his usual grace and efficiency suffocating under the weight of it.

Thankfully, Tony took the excuse, and the defensive curl of his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Just don't screw it up," he grumbled.

"Hey, you're the one who taught me, remember?" Rhodey said. "It's your own damn fault if I get it wrong."

Miraculously, this won a faint half-smile from Tony.

The lesson - if you could call it that - had happened at MIT, at the farewell dinner for the parents before R/O Week kicked off. He'd gone to the restroom to fix his tie, which had suffered the inevitable fate of being shoved into a pocket earlier and was completely undone. While he was staring down his reflection, cursing, this kid had sauntered in, taken in the situation in a glance, and ambushed him: insulted his choice of knot, yanked Rhodey down to his height, and retied it for him, babbling the whole time about Windsor versus four-in-hand and fabric types. Rhodey had been too surprised to stop him.

Assuming that was the end of it, he'd left with a muttered thanks, but the kid had followed him out to his parents' table, sat down without asking, and proceeded to draw a series of perfectly rendered diagrams of every tie knot he knew. On a napkin. With equations. His parents, the traitors, had thought it was hilarious and somehow charming; they'd been so uncomfortable at MIT up to that point that Rhodey couldn't bring himself to ask the kid why he wasn't sitting with his own family, not when they were laughing like that.

He had been halfway through their ensuing argument about the aerodynamics of assorted salad vegetables before he realized that the kid was Tony Stark.

Thank god he hadn't asked.

Rhodey tightened the knot - Windsor, formal and just right for the collar of Tony's shirt - and cupped Tony's neck with one hand. He was breathing unsteadily, his head ducked so that Rhodey couldn't see his face. For a moment, he hesitated, weighing Tony's unpredictable pride against his clear need - then cursed himself for being a coward, and bent to place a kiss on Tony's temple. He rested his cheek on Tony's hair afterward, so careful, and Tony leaned into him, his breath stuttering against Rhodey's neck.

And for just a moment, Rhodey carried him.

Then the door clicked open, Obediah strode in, and Tony snapped upright, blank-eyed and tight as a wire once again. Rhodey wanted to cry. He knew Tony hadn't.

Rhodey won't tell Tony it will be alright, or that he's sorry, because neither of those things were entirely true. Tony wouldn't accept them even if they were. But he could get Tony's back, no matter what.

Someday, Tony will let go, and he'll need to someone there to catch him when he does.

Edited 2012-06-30 00:24 (UTC)

Sorry for being creepy and anon-y but I kind of stumbled across this thing and loved your fill so, so much. It's utterly perfect.

Awww, not creepy at all! Thank you so much for stopping to say how you liked it. ♥

This makes my heart break for both of them. I especially loved Tony following him back to his table.

Also - "aerodynamics of assorted salad vegetables" -- CUTE!

"aerodynamics of assorted salad vegetables" -- CUTE

Hee, thank you! Tony got sidetracked from ties when they started serving food...but not from physics. :)

Yes, I love that Rhodey is right there for Tony, and there's so much history between them. Great fill!

Thank you! I've always loved Rhodey, but even more when I realized how much he went through with Tony without any backup at all. ♥

There is something very true-feeling about this ficlet. Beautiful.

That's a really lovely thing to say. ♥ Thank you so much!

Natasha/Rhodey, competence

Rhodey had been hopelessly poking and staring into the engine of his rental car for ten minutes before he gave it up and admitted he had no idea what he was looking at, and needed to start walking. This particular stretch of sunny Malibu road was deserted, and the hills must have been blocking his phone, because he couldn't get a single bar. He straightened up, picked up his uniform jacket from the fender where he draped it, and wiped a hand across his forehead. Fuck, it was hot. The house was about two miles away, and there wasn't another thing on the road between there and here. He'd gone three steps when a shiny dark blue roadster came whipping around the curve in front of him. As it passed, he caught a glimpse of auburn hair, and quickly turned to wave. The roadster spun a hundred and eighty degrees, and came to a neat, sure-footed stop, with barely a crunch of gravel. A woman got out, wearing a pencil skirt, expensive sunglasses, and very high heels. He knew her--Tony's, or rather, Pepper's, new assistant, Natalie?...Natalie Rushman, that was it.

"Colonel Rhodes," she said. "Having some trouble?"

He gestured to the car and held up his useless phone. "Ms. Rushman, today is just not my day."

"Call me Natalie, please." She smiled at him politely, and suddenly, she had a very incongruous switchblade in her hand and was bending into the engine compartment. "Can you try starting it when I tell you to?"

He sat in the driver's seat, staring at the raised hood, and when she called, "now, Colonel," he cranked it and heard the engine cough and kick into life. She dropped the hood. The switchblade had disappeared. She strolled over to his open window and said, "It should get you to the house, but I'll follow you, just in case."

"Thank you," he said. "May I ask...?" and then he stopped, because he wasn't sure exactly how to phrase his question.

She smiled again, and this one was sharper--more real, less polite. "I grew up in a bad neighborhood."

***

Rhodey woke up groggy in the New York mansion and stumbled toward the kitchen, determined to get to the coffee maker before Tony brewed up his customary gallon of rocket fuel. Tony only thought he made good coffee. Tony had also kept him up half the night, plying him with drinks and showing him the plans for the remodel on Stark--no, Avengers--Tower, which was totally not fair when the plans were so enthralling but his body was still on Kuwaiti time.

He was only moderately surprised to find Bruce and Thor sitting at the kitchen table, already holding mugs. He poured himself a cup and toasted them; the surprise on his face when he tasted it must have been obvious, because Bruce said, "Natasha made the coffee."

"Her brew is without peer," Thor added.

Rhodey finished his mug and felt all the synapses in his nervous system stretch and groan in pleasure. "In that case," he said, "the least I can do is make the pancakes." Twenty minutes later, Natasha showed up in yoga pants and a damp t-shirt, her cheeks rosy and her hair in a messy bun. She still could have walked the runway in any Paris fashion show. Natasha was quieter, more contained than Natalie, so she didn't say much but "thanks," when he handed her a plate. But she had two large helpings of pancakes, and Rhodey felt obscurely pleased.

***

Rhodey got in the habit of showing up for training runs with the Avengers at regular intervals. It was all part of his job as military liason. Things going the way they often did, this meant he ended up fighting with the team on occasion, dealing with aliens or crazy power-mad megalomaniacs or Doom's bi-annual escape from his latest unbreakable prison. And then Natasha saved him that one time. And all of them that other time. Oh, and some of those other times, too.

He blasted the oncoming wave of invaders, and watched her do a double mid-air spin and land on the neck of the thing that looked like a sentient purple rhino, before he swooped in to pick her up and carry her to the next target. Later, as he pulled a single bright coppery hair from the shoulder plate of the suit, and twisted it gently around his finger tip, Rhodey realized he had to stop kidding himself about exactly why he kept showing up for these little training runs.

***

"Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck," Rhodey said. Stark Industries proprietary technology for secure document transmission--Tony's fax machine, he thought rebelliously, and oh, what an earful he had gotten the last time he called it that--was being a bastard.

"Here," Natasha said from behind him, and reached around to punch a few buttons. "I had to deal with this thing's tantrums when I was working for Pepper." The machine whirred obediently, and flashed a green light.

"Thanks," Rhodey said. "Can you hand me that cover sheet?" She did, lifting an eyebrow at the aggressive "CLASSIFIED, EYES ONLY" stamps. He shrugged. "Every six months or so, Ross gets another wild hair and tries to convince the Joint Chiefs that you all are crazy loose cannons and Fury is plotting to take over the world, so I do a little song and dance about how that's not true." The slot happily swallowed up his stack of documents. "Because it's not."

"Well, not entirely, anyway," Natasha said dryly.

He flashed a grin at her. "Yeah, but I usually leave the best stories out."

"Thanks for that," she replied.

***

The shock wave receded. The smoke started to clear. Natasha's voice, coolly triumphant, came over the comm, "War Machine, do you copy? the package is delivered," and then she dropped down in front him. He flipped up the face plate, and she was--holy shit--leaping onto him, bracing her strong thighs around the suit, her arms holding his shoulders as she kissed him, a quick soft brush of her lips on his cheeks--left, right, left. A comrade's kiss--a soldier's kiss. She drew back slightly, and he took in the streaks of dirt and sweat on her face, the cut on her temple, her bright eyes. She looked like she might be a little surprised at herself. Before she could pull back further, change her mind, he closed his own eyes and leaned in, hoping, hoping. She met him halfway, her mouth parted and generous, gasping a little as she kissed him thoroughly, properly, with intent.

She lifted her mouth from his, her breath warm and faint on his lips as she murmured, "You're good at what you do, Colonel. It's pretty...sexy." Muffled by the suit, he couldn't feel her anyplace on his body except his lips, and it felt like all the sensation he was capable of had been narrowed into a single, devastating point.

"I could say the same of you, Agent Romanoff," he said, and kissed her again.

Edited 2012-06-29 18:06 (UTC)

EEEEE OMG. I adore this, it's so well fleshed out and sweet and perfect! :D new favourite rarepair!

yay, thanks! I'm glad you liked it.

Love this! What an incredibly badass pairing!

thanks! :)

This is so fantastic! Why has no one written this pairing before? It's so freakin' perfect!

thank you!

I didn't know how much I wanted this pairing until I read

such_heights' prompt.

Ugh, hit my competence kink a little harder, ya'll. Awesome. I'd never thought of these two as a pairing, but now I want ALL OF IT. I love that you gave them lots of interesting personal bits in addition to the overt BAMFery, like Natasha's switchblade and Rhodey geeking out about the Avengers Tower plans until the wee hours - it made their mutual respect and UST pop right off the page.

Also, Tony's fax machine. *dies* Tony/Rhodey BFFs is always the best thing. ♥

I didn't know I wanted this pairing until I read the prompt--I'm glad you liked it. The personal bits happened because, in my head, Natasha just refused to start kissing anybody without some backstory, but they were fun to write. And I agree--Tony/Rhodey are the best of BFFs.

This is awesome! They could rule the world together, so I guess it's a good thing they're on our side! *g*

oh, yes, it's a very good thing. *g* Thanks!

...and suddenly I ship it. This is awesome!

thank you!

They work so well together, I'm sad that I never considered them until I read this.

Also, for some reason I absolutely LOVE that one of her competencies is making coffee.

Thanks for this!

I'm glad you liked! Coffee making is SRS BZNS. *g*

Oh, *fnargle*. I think my brain short-circuited when Natasha fixed the car, and never really came back online.

hee! I think the image of her fixing his car with a switchblade is the first thing I thought of when I read the prompt, and after that I HAD to write it. I'm glad you liked.

I am a sucker for competence, and this fic plays on that theme nicely. It's a nice use of the suits--cutting off a lot of the contact they'd normally have and thereby focusing the contact on just the kiss. Their voices and actions here also read as very in character to me. So, in short: yay.

thank you! *g* I'm glad you liked it.

This is a pairing I didn't know I love.
Honestly loved it.

yay! thank you.

Aaaaaaand now I ship this.

Coulson/Fury, history

After the meeting with the WSC, Fury makes his way through the bowels of the helicarrier to a quiet room.

"You'll be happy to hear they did it," he says, crossing to the bed at the other side of the room.

"You were right. They just needed that extra push. Bet you're pretty pleased with yourself. You did what I couldn't. You got even Captain America himself to believe in the Avengers.

"I suggest if you're going to say 'I told you so,' that you do it now, or hold your peace."

He pauses for a moment, before glancing down at the figure in the bed.

"Congratulations, Agent Coulson. You succeeded where I failed. The world owes you more than it will ever know."

He bends down and places a brief kiss on Coulson's forehead.

"I've got my work cut out for me, now that you're not around to cover my ass anymore. You were my good eye. I'm going to have to watch my own back from now on."

He pulls the blanket up, covering the body.

"Thank you."

I think you just broke my heart. In a good way. But, hurty.

Oh, my heart. ;_; This is gorgeous.

Man, there seems to be an awful lot of dust floating around my apartment, and it keeps getting in my eyes.

(This was beautiful.)

Owie my heart!

OH! So freaking heartbreaking.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. And *sniff*

so sad :(

Fury/any, guard down

Nicholas Fury never lets his guard down. Director Fury sleeps with his eye open. The Director can kill you before he knows you're there.

That's bullshit, of course it is. He's human, fallible, doing the best he can (doing a damn good job) to keep the world from blowing up on a regular basis and keeping the lives of as many people as possible reasonably safe from forces beyond their ken.

The Avengers, insane though they may be, are a part of that. He prods them, tricks them, bribes and blackmails them, railroads them into proving what they can do as a team. That isn't to say he dislikes them, though he strongly considers wringing their collective and individual necks at times. Even Tony Stark is irritating, but competent.

He does not, however, appreciate the latest in their "team bonding" exercises. "Team bonding" apparently translates in Avengers slang to "prank wars." The current incarnation thereof is both annoying and actually dangerous to his facilities, because the object seems to be to sneak up on each other. With a sniper, an assassin, a part-time Hulk, a demigod, a supersoldier, and a paranoid mechanical genius on the team, there is significant chance that someone is going to get flattened, blow up, knifed, or otherwise maimed and that HQ is going to take collateral damage.

***

Nicholas Fury slid into his chair and rubbed his forehead tiredly. The day had gone poorly. HR was being very pointed after the Avengers' third Public Relations officer had quit within two weeks and there had been an incident in Wyoming this afternoon that involved the flattened remains of an antique car show, courtesy of a giant robotic troop transport driven by a rabid-looking white supremacist and his gang of thugs. Fury had been more than a little gleeful about shitting on that plan for country/world domination, but the insurance claims were going to be a nightmare. Captain Rogers had given a heartfelt, but not entirely coherent speech about Justice and the American Way to a pretty reporter before Stark had corralled him and there was no way it wasn't all over every blog on the 'net by now. (Rule #17. Do NOT talk to the press before briefings. Yes, that includes you. ALL of you.)

An unfamiliar draft touched his face and the Glock was in Fury's hand, muzzle to Barton's temple, before the rest of him had a chance to respond.

"Hey, Director."

"Barton." He lowered the gun.

Hawkeye grinned at him upside-down, hanging from his knees out of the panel he'd removed from the ceiling.

"I'm not playing this game and if it involves any other SHIELD personnel or happens again within SHIELD premises, I will have the person or people involved reassigned to Antarctica."

Barton rolled his eyes. "Killjoy."

"Get out of my office, Barton." Fury sighed, rolling his eye heavenward.

Barton saluted, planted a smacking kiss to the top of Fury's head and executed a perfect curl-up into the ceiling, just ahead of the slap Fury aimed at him.

Steve/Natasha, New Year's Eve

Steve has got used to coming into the living area and seeing people sprawled over the couches, something on the TV in the background, and a sense of general hubbub. So he’s surprised when he walks in and there is no one there, and the only lights are two flickering candles on the fireplace. He sits down on the couch, and sighs. He’s tired, bone tired. It’s been a long week.

Natasha appears in the doorway, on the other side of the room. She’s holding a champagne flute, and her expression is darker than he’s seen before. Not in her patented I will kill them all, and then wreak havoc on their reputation way, but in a haunted way. She nods in his direction, and then curls up on the squishiest sofa. She raises her glass in the direction of the candles and downs the contents.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, low and quiet, so she can pretend not to have heard.

“Happy new year,” she says, turning her gaze on him.

“Umm …” Steve says, a little ineloquently. “It’s January 13th.”

“Yes,” Natasha says, “Happy New Year’s Eve.” She refills her glass, and then conjures another from somewhere by the sofa, fills it, and hands it over. “Drink with me.”

“I can’t get drunk, remember.” Steve says, eyeing the glass.

“This isn’t about getting drunk. It’s New Year’s Eve. Family, singing, celebrating. All that stuff.” Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Two calendars, two celebrations.”

”Oh”, Steve thinks, remembering Pavel, and holds his glass up to the candles. “Happy New Year’s Eve.” He sips the champagne slowly, and watches Natasha from the corner of his eye. “You know, the others would come and celebrate with you.”

“Yes. We could have a party,” Natasha sneers. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“It might be nice?” Steve says, and catches her eye. “None of us are doing well in the family department. And regular New Year got ruined by having to go fight killer robots. We could handle a do-over.”

Natasha doesn’t say no, which Steve thinks he can take as acquiescence in this matter, and she doesn’t rip his phone out of his hands when he starts typing a message. Sometimes he really wishes she could have met Peggy, and then he wonders if she had, somehow.

Clint is, oddly, the first to arrive. “Stark’s in his workshop, with Banner,” he says by way of explanation, and hands Steve a foil container. “I brought pie.”

It isn’t long before everyone else arrives. Natasha hands them all glasses of champagne, and uncurls into a sitting position. They all raise their glasses to the candles, and toast the old year and the coming new one.

Natasha leans into Steve’s side, and drops a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Oh, this is lovely. Thank you! <3

I'm glad you like it, bb! ♥

Awwwww! This is lovely. <3

Thank you!

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.

YES GOOD. <3

<3

AWWWW!!!

*g*

I love this. <3 And yes! I think the strange way that NYE never changes is part of why I thought of it in connection with Steve.

Yes yes! So very true, and lovely!

Ahhh, yes. So sweet after the melancholy.

Thank you! <3

Bruce/Anybody, aftermath

Tony's kissing everyone tonight, or at least everyone who'll let him. Surprisingly, this includes Natasha (who puts her hand on Tony's throat and backs him against the wall, but keeps the kiss going) and Thor (who picks Tony up and twirls him around, laughing), but not Clint (who ducks away, grinning, and flees to higher ground) or Pepper (who places two fingers against Tony's lips when he tries and whispers something in Tony's ear that makes Tony shiver, before she turns him around and smacks his ass). It's just a thing Tony does, the way he knows how to interact with people, a challenge to keep his mind busy. The team these days is, generally, kind of . . . affectionate. With each other. Like that. Bruce tries not to watch the way Tony's mouth moves eagerly against Natasha's, the way he laughs against Thor's lips, just like he tries not to pay attention to who comes out of whose bedroom wearing whose shirts in the mornings.

Bruce is standing off in a corner with a drink in his hand - his third - and wondering why he doesn't just go to bed. Tony tends to throw these parties every time they defeat yet another giant snake or whatever, and Bruce is almost always too tired to stay, too worn out by the transformation and the fear that comes with it. His adrenaline crash is kind of epic.

When Tony finishes his absurdly slow wet peck-on-the-lips with Steve and comes up to him, Bruce holds out a hand, giving his best wry smile. "I don't need my tonsils cleaned, thanks."

Tony grabs Bruce's arm, a little tipsy, and half-collapses so that they both sit down hard on the little steps down into the sunken living room. Bruce lands with his hip pressed up against Tony's, with Tony's fingers still tight around his arm.

"Why so sad, wallflower?" Tony asks, and it's teasing, but there's something dark behind it, too.

Bruce rolls his eyes. "I'm just tired. You put on and then lose 900 pounds in a day and see how you feel."

Tony scowls. "Ugh, I hate how you break the law of conservation of mass. Like, don't even talk to me about it. I'm so freaked out just thinking about it."

"I know what you mean," Bruce sighs.

Tony lets go of Bruce's wrist and slides his arm around Bruce's shoulders, holding him tight for a second and then loosening his grip, like a sideways one-armed hug. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out," Tony says. "It'll just lead us to a new understanding of matter and energy, that's all."

Bruce wordlessly holds up his glass, which Tony clinks with his own, and they both drink. Tony's arm is still around Bruce's shoulders, a warm steady weight.

"It's not just the physical transformation, though, is it." His tone is casual, like they're discussing the weather or the latest alien attack on New York City, not Bruce's bizarre destructive illness slash superpower.

"Nope," Bruce agrees. He thinks about elaborating, but there are so many other things he could say, and each of them makes him feel just a little like there's a weight on his chest, big and green, keeping him from taking a breath.

"Losing control, becoming yourself but not yourself anymore. I think I'd want to be unconscious afterwards too." He takes a long pointed sip of his drink, and Bruce takes the hint and does the same. "There are . . . other ways to lose yourself, though," he says, this last in something more like his usual arch tone.

"I'm sure you've tried them all." Bruce smiles at him, and is rewarded with a long, serious, appraising look.

"I have," is all Tony says, but he maintains eye contact.

Bruce leans in and presses his mouth to Tony's, letting himself stay soft and yielding and everything he's not when he's huge and green. Tony kisses back slowly, almost thoughtfully, his tongue licking in easy unhurried little touches against Bruce's lips. Bruce pulls back an inch and then moves in again, another slow soft kiss, and then another, a whole series, broken by brief pauses for breath, for the moment when Tony cups Bruce's face in his palm before tilting his head to meet Bruce's mouth again.

With their faces still close together, Tony grins and says, "Now I just need Clint for the whole set." Bruce smacks him in the chest. Tony grins and stands up, then offers Bruce his hand. Bruce takes it and lets Tony pull him to his feet.

"Seriously, come by later. We should talk." And since they're already at Tony's home and Bruce already lives two floors away, what Tony really means is come by my bedroom, we can fuck. Bruce nods, considering.

"Maybe I will," he says.

Aw, Bruce.

And yeah, I can only imagine how weirded out they are by the way Hulk breaks the laws of physics.

oh heaaaaaarts, this is so lovely and they're so good for each other and aw. :D

♥
This is so lovely, especially because of the humour in it and kind of ridiculousness of the set up, within the scene itself.
I also love that Tony's first "we'll figure it out" is the physics!

Awesome! :)

ooooo I like it, serious and playful! Very Bruce and Tony!

this made me cry a little and it is super wonderful. science angst and other angst and Bruce glimpsing that something dark behind Tony's play, and the way it ends with Bruce considering. that's the take on their relationship that i like best, the one where Tony invites, and Bruce considers, careful and unhurried, and says yes.

also this: there are so many other things he could say, and each of them makes him feel just a little like there's a weight on his chest, big and green, keeping him from taking a breath. wow. that is amazing. and totally whence the crying a little, btw.

This is so sweet, and adorable!

Tony lets go of Bruce's wrist and slides his arm around Bruce's shoulders, holding him tight for a second and then loosening his grip, like a sideways one-armed hug. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out," Tony says. "It'll just lead us to a new understanding of matter and energy, that's all."

Perfect, perfect geeky reassurance. I would be comforted, too! (And yes, Bruce, that is exactly like a one-armed hug. Oh, honey.)

I love this so much I can't stop rereading it. XD

*flails*

need moar bruce! :D

I love this--of course Tony is an equal opportunity make-out artist, and of course his and Bruce's prelude to kissing is an exchange about the laws of physics.

Tony/Anybody (everybody), after-party

Tony feels entirely fucking excellent right now. He's just saved the world and that's a far better excuse for a party than most. He's got a beer in his hand and is laughing his ass off at Thor trying to teach everyone an Asgard drinking song, which seems to involve a lot of singing in the round and improvised middle eights in which you are meant to sing out all of your deeds of valour.

Steve's putting in a good effort, singing a not-quite-rhyming verse about his battles with the Red Skull to a tune that's rapidly descending into Glenn Miller. By the time Steve's singing about 'any time, any place, I've punched Hitler in the face' Tony can't stay upright any more and collapses onto a sofa, cackling.

When the singing finally fades down, he looks around the room, a room that is full of startling hot superheroes. "One of you should totally make out with me right now," he announces. "I did just save the world, after all."

Thor turns to him, his eyes glinting. "You were most valiant indeed today, my friend," he says. "We should all pay homage to your courage."

"That's what I'm talking about," Tony says, eyeing Thor up appreciatively as he approaches.

He's not prepared for Thor scooping him off the sofa entirely and dipping him backwards. Tony squeaks a bit as he finds himself bending in new and unexpected directions, and then Thor is full-on dipping him and planting a big, wet, scruffy kiss right on his mouth.

"Mmph," Tony says appreciatively, and clutches Thor's arms, groping his biceps just a little, because who wouldn't? Thor gives as good as he gets, grabbing Tony's ass.

There's a murmur above him, and then Thor's letting him go, and he falls backwards for a second before someone catches him, and he's spun round to face Steve, who's grinning at him.

"My captain!" Tony declares, and Steve rolls his eyes but he kisses him too so Tony figures that Steve really has started to find him endearing rather than profoundly annoying. Maybe it's a mixture of the two, but he'll take it. And my, is that a little tongue there from America's poster boy?

"Hmm yes, very good," Tony says when Steve pulls away, looking flushed. "Top of the class, though I'm happy to offer extra tuition if you want."

"I will bear that in mind," Steve says with a laugh, then he shoves Tony away and there are more hands on him and what is this, some sort of awesome superhero kissing gangbang? Tony loves his life sometimes.

Clint's up next, his eyes narrowed at Tony as if in warning that this gesture shouldn't be interpreted as some kind of sign of affection or anything. Whatever, Clint totally likes him, Tony can tell.

"Show me what you've got, Katniss," Tony says.

"Katniss?" Clint blinks. "Seriously?"

"Katniss is a total badass," Tony points out. "What's the matter, uncomfortable with comparisons to strong female characters?"

"Well she's better than a fucking elf, I'll give you that much. Now shut up."

Tony does, because now Clint's kissing him too, and Tony's mouth starting to feel slick and stretched and really good from all these lips and teeth and tongues. Clint is right on target, kissing Tony deep and hot for a minute before pulling away, and dragging a whimpering noise out of Tony along with him.

"Now then," says Natasha, watching Tony with dark, promising eyes. "Why don't I show the rest of you how it's done."

"Please do," Tony says.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders and leans in slowly, her mouth millimetres from his for agonising seconds before they touch. Tony's mouth falls open for her but she takes her time, licking her way into his mouth and digging her fingers into his hips. Natasha kisses like she does everything else - calculated, in control, almost unbearably hot. She pulls away and licks her lips and pats his head.

He's ridiculously wrung out and no one's even touched him below the belt. "Bruce, babe, help me out here," he says, and then Bruce's cool, firm hands are on his shoulders, pushing him back down onto the sofa, where he collapses gladly.

"Just so you know," Tony says tonight, "if at least one of you doesn't fuck me tonight I may actually die. Have a heart--hnngh."

He's cut off by Bruce's mouth on his. Bruce's kiss is closed, soft, gentle, and it's enough to make Tony's breath slow a little, the frantic thudding of his heart calming down to a low, insistent thrum. He tangles his hand in Bruce's hair and anchors himself again.

Bruce draws away and strokes his face, looking down at him with fond, warm amusement. Tony grins back up at him. "I'm not kidding about the fucking, guys," he says to the room at large. "Pepper's out of town visiting her girlfriend and really that is terrible timing."

He looks pleadingly up Bruce.

Bruce looks around the room, and he seems to like what he sees because his face lights up in a crooked, conspiratorial smile. "We'll see what we can do," he promises, and kisses Tony's cheek.

what is this, some sort of awesome superhero kissing gangbang?

YES! It totally should be, I love it.

then he shoves Tony away and there are more hands on him and what is this, some sort of awesome superhero kissing gangbang? Tony loves his life sometimes.

ME TOO AMY I LOVE MY LIFE SOMETIMES TOO AND THIS IS ONE OF THOSE TIMES. AWESOME SUPERHERO KISSING GANGBANG. AUGH.

how is this so good how? I laughed and laughed at the first two paragraphs (and had to read them out loud to

eruthros, and then OH MY all the kissing, and it's all so hot, and seriously can I live in this story forever please?

THIS IS GREAT. I particularly like the detail about Asgardian drinking songs, for some reason. Glenn Miller-style punching Hitler in the face!

Oh, perfect! Tony should be kissing ALL the Avengers. And I love Bruce at the end, conspiring with everyone else to make sure Tony gets what he wants.

Omg that is so good. I think Natasha sounds like the winner.

*seal-clapping at my screen*

I am cackling/laughing out loud and cannot stop.This is the Best Thing Ever!

oh my gosh what is this PERFECTION. kissing gangbang! drinking songs! Katniss! and mmmm Bruce. Wonderful :D

I actually threw my arms up in the air delight! This is so wonderful! OF COURSE Tony loves Katniss. All that AND Steve singing Glenn Miller! I just want to swim in a pool of this fic. <3

I love, love, love this! So sweet and hot. Tony is just adorable!

I'm so glad I found this meme!

what is this, some sort of awesome superhero kissing gangbang? Tony loves his life sometimes.

Omg, yes! I love you, and all of us! What a life that brings us delights like this!

aaaah i love it

bruce <3

Everyone, Spin the Bottle

Avengers kissing fest!

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uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

Re: uh, mild warning for Clint using Special, Slightly Gorey Imagery

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Clint/Natasha, "So quietly to catch"

Re: Clint/Natasha, "So quietly to catch"

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Re: Clint/Natasha, "So quietly to catch"

Re: Clint/Natasha, "So quietly to catch"

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