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"Jarvis, lower the music please."
"Of course, Miss Romanov."
Tony's gaze snaps up to meet Natasha's, and she stares him down for a second. "What. The. Fuck." He needs to reprogram JARVIS as soon as possible. He's Tony's artificial intelligence, for Pete's sake. He shouldn't be taking orders from Nat. Especially not when they directly conflict with Tony's own comfort.
He glances up sheepishly, not bothering to shield what looks like mangled remains of the American flag strewn across his work table. "Would you believe me if I called it an experiment?"
Nat glances down at the pieces, humming thoughtfully. "No."
Tony sighs. "Figures." He runs his fingers through his greasy hair. "I thought Steve would appreciate a new suit."
"He does have a new suit," Nat looks at him blankly. "The one S.H.I.E.L.D. made for him when he joined the Avengers. By very talented designers and tailors, I should add."
"Well," Tony starts loudly, before trailing off and finishing with a mumble. "It does nothing for his ass."
Nat scoffs disbelievingly. "Are you telling me that you, Tony Stark—a well respected genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist—are taking time out of your obviously busy hectic schedule as a superhero in order to make Captain fucking America a suit that makes it easier for you to ogle his ass?"
"Well, when you put it like that, it obviously sounds bad." Tony pouts, crossing his arms.
She blinks rapidly. "I'm not putting it like anything—it sounds bad because it is bad."
"I'm doing him a favor," Tony huffs. "His old suit is a disaster."
It probably isn't that bad, but Tony does wish it were a little bit easier to see the wonderful form that Captain America is supposed to be known for.
That weekend, Tony does a movie marathon of sorts. Of sorts, because the Captain America records are technically known as documentaries. Tony even refers to them like that in his head. It makes it seem far more intellectual that way. Tony isn't only watching them to rewind the tape of Steve leaving the pod after getting injected with the super serum. He's doing research for his future engineering. Even if his hand happens to slip and skip back to a certain scene with a very naked super soldier, it is completely coincidental and not sexual in any context.
(His hard-on isn't sexual either. It is a perfectly natural reaction to the contents of his academic exploration.)
Clint chokes on his mouthful of pancake and whips around to fix Tony with a look of horror. "Are you humming the Star Spangled banner?"
He quite nearly drops the spatula on the ground. "No!" he says entirely too fast, cheeks burning.
"He's been watching Steve's old war movies," Natasha says in a mock whisper.
"They're called documentaries!" Tony protests, but neither of them are listening to him. And he's telling the truth for once, too. They are called documentaries. He checked.
Natasha and Clint are whispering to each other in a manner Tony finds entirely too suspicious.
"That's it, guys. As the leader of the Avengers, I demand you involve me in your conversation."
He knew it was a long shot, but damn. He has never heard Clint laugh that hard in his life. "I thought we were an equal collaboration of evenly matched superheroes?"
Tony scoffs. "Whose tower are we standing in right now? Remind me."
Natasha squints at him. "If anyone's leader, it's Rogers. He has Captain in his name."
And as much as Tony would love to argue, he can't right now. He hates Natasha so much.
Steve looks like he is about to cry.
"It's just a suit," Tony says uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. He might've spent days on it, but at most he was expecting a appreciative blow job, not tears. He reaches forward to pat Steve's back. "There, there." The words are stilted and awkward.
"This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." Well. Tony knows that definitely isn't true. Thor crocheted Steve a huge cat last Christmas. And he didn't do it as a ploy to get off. As far as Tony knows.
Not like he'll argue, though. "You're welcome?" Fuck. He sounds so unsure.
Thankfully, Steve doesn't seem to notice. He takes the suit and clutches it to his chest. "I will cherish this."
Tony finds himself flushing slightly. "You do that."
Tony prides himself in his work. Not only does Steve's new suit hug him better, it also gives him incredible newfound flexibility that he utilizes to the max in their next battle.
The aliens don't stand a chance against this Steve.
And if Tony is the one to catch Steve when he jumps off the side of the building, just know that Tony was just admiring his handywork. Well. That, and the absolute magnificence his handywork is protecting.
"Why, Mr. Stark," Steve teases as Tony lowers him back down to earth with a bow. "What a gentleman." Tony's heart flutters, and he almost thinks his arc reactor is failing. He gives a mock flourish. "Anything for you, Steve." Rarely enough, he means it.
It all comes to an ends at Tony's birthday party, of all places. He is having the loveliest conversation with Bruce about an upcoming technological convention they are both attending when he hears a grating voice rise above the hum of noise.
It's Clint, if that wasn't obvious. And he is talking about Tony's interest in World War II documentaries. "Nat said she saw him replaying the nude scene from the third one multiple times.
Tony cuts in with what he thinks qualifies as a suave smoothness. "I was doing research. For the new suit I made Steve. Because I'm a great friend and just an all-around awesome guy."
Clint sighs in faux dispair. "You want to fuck him so bad it makes you look even more stupid than you already do, and I didn't even know that was possible." Tony resents that. And it's rich coming from Clint! Clint doesn't even attempt to maintain a facade of intelligence. The other day, JARVIS caught him pouring cereal straight into his mouth from the box.
Tony wants to retaliate with that fact when he hears a familiar voice call to him from across the room. His favorite voice, in fact.
"Tony! Happy Birthday." Steve is just as handsome and cherub cheeked as always. Tony crosses the room to wrap Steve in a hug. When he pulls back, he swears he sees stars in Steve's eyes. "Can I give you your present somewhere more—" Steve looks around before finishing. " —quiet?"
'Please be a blowjob, please be a blowjob, please be a—."
Tony smiles. "Sure. My suite?" It's a little(read: a lot) out of the way, but he kind of needs to get away from the noise.
They grin at each other on the elevator. Steve asks him questions about his day so far. So many questions, about his birthday and if he's having fun and whether or not a random coworker of Steve's choice is present at the event. For all that it's worth, it is not awkward for a moment. The conversation just flows, like it always does with Steve.
Tony is not surprised often. The moment that Steve pulls out his sketchbook is an exception. Inside, are hundreds of drawings. Some are of random objects around the tower. Most are people. Avengers, SHIELD agents, strangers Steve probably picked off the street. Then, there's a picture of Tony. It's really nice, actually. Charcoal shadows somehow capture his grin perfectly.
"Oh, Steve, this is—."
Steve flips the page. And then again. And again and again and again. Every single one has a drawing of Tony. "Happy Birthday, Tony."
Wow. Tony is not strong enough for this. He tugs Steve to him, ignoring the sketchbook falling to the ground with a thump, and kisses him bruisingly hard. Then he realizes what he's done and pulls back just as quick.
"Fuck, Steve. Could we maybe just forget that ever happened?"
Steve sighs. "Tony, you absolute idiot." Then he fists the front of Tony's shirt and lifts him from the ground, shoving him up into the wall and connecting their lips. His back hits the surface solidly, lying flat. Tony lets out a decidedly unmanly squeak before he realizes he isn't dreaming and even thinks about reciprocating.
There isn't much thinking going on, of course. Leave it to Steve Rogers to render him absolutely speechless. It's a good thing kissing doesn't take many words. Steve presses into Tony like he needs him, and Tony is more than happy to oblige.
"I can hold my breath for an hour," Steve supplies helpfully. Tony glances down at him dazedly. "That would help, yes." He's breathing heavy now, chest heaving with the effort. His legs are burning because of the sheer amount of time he's had them wrapped around Steve's waist.
Steve must notice Tony's discomfort, because he splays his freakishly large hands flat across Tony's back and lifts the man into his arms, crossing the floor to arrive at Tony's room. He lays him across the bed and the air leaves Tony's lungs. Is this fucking real?
"Can I?" He asks, gesturing to Tony's groin. He doesn't get it for a second. Then he does, oh he really does, and he nods ferociously furiously fast. For the first time in his life, he has nothing to say.
Steve is silent too, but that may or may not be because he has his lips around Tony. Of course Steve Rogers doesn't have a gag reflex. Of fucking course.
And he's good with his tongue too, what the fuck. Tony groans, hips bucking up when Steve swirls at his slit.
"They teach you that in the army?" Tony quips, gasping.
Steve smiles around him, sliding off with a slick. "Yes, sir. Anything for the betterment of my country."
Tony groans, chuckling. "You're such an asshole."
Steve pouts, looking absolutely ridiculous with spit-slick lips. "I'm your asshole, though."
Tony reaches for Steve's face and draws him up to kiss him fully. "Yes you are."
Well, damn. Captain fucking America just gave him a blowjob. Take that, Howard.
"I like the fourth of July," Tony mentions in passing one day, when they are all discussing their favorite holidays. He's expecting an offhand comment or two. The sudden silence is not at all anticipated.
Then Clint bursts out laughing, with everyone else soon following suit. "Of course you do."
Steve shrugs, the only other one not getting the joke. "Christmas was always my favorite."
Thor approaches Tony the next week. "Lady Jane says it's very romantic that your favorite holiday is that of which your lover's day of birth."
Tony flushes deep red and makes a strangled sort of noise. "I'm afraid I have no idea what Lady Jane is referring to."
Thor looks concerned. "Have you and the Captain ended your dalliance?"
"What dalliance?"
"I apologize. It was erroneous to assume based purely on the sounds from your bedchambers."
Tony chokes on his coffee. "My bedroom is soundproofed!"
Thor gives him a disbelieving look. "My dear Tony," he says disappointedly. "My godly senses are not hampered by mortal technology."
Clint is singing not so quietly from his spot perched on the kitchen counter.
"Why, you're a grand old fag, you're a high flying fag—" Steve punches him in the stomach and he goes flying onto the floor.
Clint squawks offendedly, but is simply too smart to retaliate.