Wow. And I thought Catholic nuns had the market cornered on anti-masturbation ministry. Although... is that why the body of Christ is flavorless? [ Sure, he could have called them communion wafers, or even sacramental bread, but those names simply lack the dramatic flair that Steve prefers.
His hands keep busy as he speaks, plopping a spoon into the bowl and handing it off to Tony, then ripping the silver foil around his Pop-Tart and taking a giant bite out of both at once. ]
Jesus crackers always tasted more like cardboard to me, personally.
[Technically flavorless, but somehow even worse than just being bland.]
At least Corn Flakes have some added sugar. [And now he's talking around the cereal in his mouth.] Don't suppose I could get you to start some coffee, honeybuns?
Since you asked so nicely. [ "Jesus crackers" gets a pure, straight from the gut laugh from him. Fortunately, Steve was raised Catholic: blaspheming is all but second nature.
He's less comfortable with the coffee-making, even as he goes through the motions, because it occurs midway that he doesn't have to ask how Tony takes it. He can't remember when he committed that to memory. ]
What else can I get you to do if I ask nice enough?
[The delivery would be a lot sexier if Tony wasn't still talking through a mouth of cereal, but he's not trying to be sexy, he's trying to be ridiculous.
(Although a corner of his mind is very curious about the answer.)]
[ Practically anything, but Steve isn't about to admit that out loud.
As the coffee brews, he takes a look inside the medicine cabinet. He returns to Tony with a steaming mug and two ibuprofen for the pain Steve can still feel in his own hand. ]
Only time can tell. [ There. That's a safe, cryptic answer. ]
Oh my god, I'm going to nominate you for sainthood. [The sound Tony makes isn't that far off from the kind he makes in bed (or wherever else he happens to be having sex), and only becomes more explicit when he takes a drink of the coffee.] Fuck, that's good.
[He washes down the ibuprofen with another gulp of coffee, then sets the mug down to pick his bowl of cereal back up and finish it. Tony looks a little bit like a kid in his cuffed sweatpants, feet swinging from the counter, but it might be best not to mention it.]
Coffee machine did most of the work. [ Steve mumbles humbly before shoving half a Pop-Tart in his mouth. His face feels hot, and he knows if he looked in a mirror, his cheeks would be a bright, burning pink. Still, he is grateful that Tony's orgasmic noises didn't shoot straight to his dick this time. ]
Pretty sure the Pope doesn't canonize machines. Which, if you ask me, is sheer prejudice.
[God, Tony loves the way Steve blushes. He wonders if it'll stop from prolonged exposure to him - he hopes not, but on the other hand, it does mean prolonged exposure to Steve, which seems like a pretty decent trade-off. Of course, he might die of heart failure before that happens, too. But maybe in twenty years, Tony'll be old and grey(er) and Steve will still look like he's thirty and he won't bat an eyelash at Tony's lecherous old man behavior.
It's a fucking pipe dream, but it sounds nice. Tony makes a face at the soggy cereal remnants in the bottom of the bowl and turns back to the coffee.]
Starting to think I should've had you irish this u- [A sudden terrible realization hits Tony, and he just grins.]
[ Steve's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. He might accept that answer from anyone else, but nobody else has Tony Stark's brain. ] That is not the reassuring answer you seem to think it is.
Just eat your pop-tarts and I'll fill you in later.
[Tony tries to lean in to nudge Steve's shoulder with his own - physical contact is a bit limited right now - but loses his balance and nearly falls off the counter. He is amazingly graceful.]
[ The only casualty of Tony's imbalance turns out to be Steve's Pop-Tart, which falls to the floor as Steve throws both arms out to keep Tony in place. After the frantic moment has passed, he somehow ends up with both palms planted on Tony's thighs. If he's breathing a little heavier and his heart is thumping loudly against his chest, it's the earlier excitement to blame, surely. Nothing to see here. ]
I know it's a big ask, but can we at least try to avoid injuries?
Everything you feel, I feel. Maybe I'm just looking out for myself.
[ Given Steve's history with self-preservation, that argument isn't likely to convince anyone. Still, it's better than admitting that Tony's brush with death left Steve feeling overprotective. ]
You know, we're considered leaders around here. Is motorboating in communal spaces the kind of behavior you want to model?
[ With Steve pressing his face to the top of Tony's head, Tony can probably feel the stupid grin on Steve's face. ]
[Yeah, that argument's going to last till the first time Steve jumps out of a plane. Which, by the way, Tony is not looking forward to experiencing. At least when he does it, he has a full suit of armor and no intention of hitting the ground.]
You're considered a leader. I'm the guy who signs the checks, and I think everyone knows that I'm not a role model.
[Except for Peter, who doesn't even live here. Which is good, because he'd die of mortification if he saw old people having sex.]
[ Steve simply rolls his eyes and gives that little shake of his head that means he can't believe Tony is being so ridiculous. ] You don't get to call me that after taking my virginity. Those are just the rules.
I think that being a hundred-year-old virgin actually proves my point. And don't say 'I didn't have the opportunity', because buddy, there was absolutely fucking happening on that warfront.
-god, now I'm thinking about my dad, why do you do this?
Your dad, may God rest his soul, wasn't exactly picky. I always wanted to wait for the right person.
[ Oh. Oh no. Steve just managed to call Howard Stark a slut and suggest that Tony was the right person all in one go. Neither of which are necessarily false, but both were things he was probably better off keeping to himself. Possibly forever. ]
[Look, Tony knows his dad was a slut, just like he knows that he's a slut. His objection is to thinking about his dad fucking his way through Europe, not about the number of people he seduced, and great, now he's wondering his dad and Steve, this is absolutely the worst thing ever.]
Yeah, and you ended up with me. [Tony just snorts.] Great job.
[ Now Steve is just getting heated. He can't stop Tony from putting himself down, but he won't let Tony use his own admission to do it. ] Yeah, I did do a great job, you dick. I did exactly what I set out to do. You think this is, what, me giving up?
I think that your brain got trapped in a feedback loop of arousal and you took the best way out. It's fine, we obviously both needed it, probably you more than me. And it was-
[Amazing, his brain supplies, but Tony can't just come out and say that.]
Really fucking good. So, you know, a very solid virginity losing experience, A+, well done.
[Tony is suddenly acutely aware that he's in the middle of an emotional minefield, and there's no way out short of blowing himself up. Metaphorically.]
Steve's brain zeroes in on those few choice words and suddenly his overwhelming emotion is anger. That's just as well, because underneath that is a gut-wrenching level of disappointment that he can't possibly hope to process this close to Tony.
He needs his thoughts and feelings to be his alone again. ]
Right. Well, I'm glad we both got what we needed. [ He spits out, not sounding very glad at all. ] You should really get Strange on the line before we get trapped in another loop.
[On one hand, this is probably for the best, because Tony doesn't need Steve to imprint on him like a duckling or something when there are better people Steve could be spending his time on now that he's cleared the hurdle of sexual intimacy.
On the other hand, it makes Tony feel exactly like he did after Steve walked away from him in Siberia, after he walked away from Steve when he returned to Earth, and it's a shitty feeling that he'd never wanted to experience again, except that it was always kind of a certainty with them.
The anger is something Tony could tell is Steve's even without knowing it. He's too tired to be angry about falling into the same pattern again, the same old trap. This time, he's just sad - but it's a sadness that carves through his body like a knife, that hits him with the precision blow of vibranium to his ribs.]
Yeah. I'll do that.
[Tony can't bring himself to look at Steve, so he just brings the mug of lukewarm coffee up to his face and drinks instead.]
[ Sadness threatens to drown him like an arctic wave. It doesn't occur to Steve that a fair fraction of it could belong to Tony: he's convinced that Tony doesn't care that deeply, and the way he doesn't even bother to look at Steve reinforces that belief. ]
Great. [ That's as much as he manages to say through clenched teeth. He drops down to pick up his fallen Pop-Tart and tosses it forcefully into the trash, letting the cabinet door slam shut behind him. He needs to get himself under control, he knows that. Unfortunately, when he makes it back to his room, the first thing that greets him is his unmade bed, a mocking reminder of everything he had and already lost.
He heads for the bathroom, hoping some cold water on his face might calm him down. He's not angry at Tony, he's angry with himself. But it's himself who looks back at him from the mirror, and in his anger, Steve forgets the consequences until after his fist breaks through his reflection. ]
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His hands keep busy as he speaks, plopping a spoon into the bowl and handing it off to Tony, then ripping the silver foil around his Pop-Tart and taking a giant bite out of both at once. ]
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[Technically flavorless, but somehow even worse than just being bland.]
At least Corn Flakes have some added sugar. [And now he's talking around the cereal in his mouth.] Don't suppose I could get you to start some coffee, honeybuns?
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He's less comfortable with the coffee-making, even as he goes through the motions, because it occurs midway that he doesn't have to ask how Tony takes it. He can't remember when he committed that to memory. ]
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[The delivery would be a lot sexier if Tony wasn't still talking through a mouth of cereal, but he's not trying to be sexy, he's trying to be ridiculous.
(Although a corner of his mind is very curious about the answer.)]
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As the coffee brews, he takes a look inside the medicine cabinet. He returns to Tony with a steaming mug and two ibuprofen for the pain Steve can still feel in his own hand. ]
Only time can tell. [ There. That's a safe, cryptic answer. ]
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[He washes down the ibuprofen with another gulp of coffee, then sets the mug down to pick his bowl of cereal back up and finish it. Tony looks a little bit like a kid in his cuffed sweatpants, feet swinging from the counter, but it might be best not to mention it.]
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[God, Tony loves the way Steve blushes. He wonders if it'll stop from prolonged exposure to him - he hopes not, but on the other hand, it does mean prolonged exposure to Steve, which seems like a pretty decent trade-off. Of course, he might die of heart failure before that happens, too. But maybe in twenty years, Tony'll be old and grey(er) and Steve will still look like he's thirty and he won't bat an eyelash at Tony's lecherous old man behavior.
It's a fucking pipe dream, but it sounds nice. Tony makes a face at the soggy cereal remnants in the bottom of the bowl and turns back to the coffee.]
Starting to think I should've had you irish this u- [A sudden terrible realization hits Tony, and he just grins.]
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[Tony's airy tone of voice is enough to indicate that he is 100% up to something, and that Steve should definitely be concerned.]
Just thinking, that's all.
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[Or to literally anyone else who knows Tony.]
Just eat your pop-tarts and I'll fill you in later.
[Tony tries to lean in to nudge Steve's shoulder with his own - physical contact is a bit limited right now - but loses his balance and nearly falls off the counter. He is amazingly graceful.]
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I know it's a big ask, but can we at least try to avoid injuries?
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[Alas, poor Pop-Tart. It's a good thing the pantry is well-stocked.
Tony's just going to rest his forehead against Steve's chest for a moment, though. Just because it's warm and solid and there.]
If you didn't have a shirt on I could motorboat you.
[Wow, imagine what it must be like to be someone with a filter. Not Tony Stark.]
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[ Given Steve's history with self-preservation, that argument isn't likely to convince anyone. Still, it's better than admitting that Tony's brush with death left Steve feeling overprotective. ]
You know, we're considered leaders around here. Is motorboating in communal spaces the kind of behavior you want to model?
[ With Steve pressing his face to the top of Tony's head, Tony can probably feel the stupid grin on Steve's face. ]
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You're considered a leader. I'm the guy who signs the checks, and I think everyone knows that I'm not a role model.
[Except for Peter, who doesn't even live here. Which is good, because he'd die of mortification if he saw old people having sex.]
You're just a prude.
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-god, now I'm thinking about my dad, why do you do this?
[Auuughhhh no make it stop please]
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[ Oh. Oh no. Steve just managed to call Howard Stark a slut and suggest that Tony was the right person all in one go. Neither of which are necessarily false, but both were things he was probably better off keeping to himself. Possibly forever. ]
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Yeah, and you ended up with me. [Tony just snorts.] Great job.
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[Amazing, his brain supplies, but Tony can't just come out and say that.]
Really fucking good. So, you know, a very solid virginity losing experience, A+, well done.
[Tony is suddenly acutely aware that he's in the middle of an emotional minefield, and there's no way out short of blowing himself up. Metaphorically.]
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You more than me.
Steve's brain zeroes in on those few choice words and suddenly his overwhelming emotion is anger. That's just as well, because underneath that is a gut-wrenching level of disappointment that he can't possibly hope to process this close to Tony.
He needs his thoughts and feelings to be his alone again. ]
Right. Well, I'm glad we both got what we needed. [ He spits out, not sounding very glad at all. ] You should really get Strange on the line before we get trapped in another loop.
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On the other hand, it makes Tony feel exactly like he did after Steve walked away from him in Siberia, after he walked away from Steve when he returned to Earth, and it's a shitty feeling that he'd never wanted to experience again, except that it was always kind of a certainty with them.
The anger is something Tony could tell is Steve's even without knowing it. He's too tired to be angry about falling into the same pattern again, the same old trap. This time, he's just sad - but it's a sadness that carves through his body like a knife, that hits him with the precision blow of vibranium to his ribs.]
Yeah. I'll do that.
[Tony can't bring himself to look at Steve, so he just brings the mug of lukewarm coffee up to his face and drinks instead.]
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Great. [ That's as much as he manages to say through clenched teeth. He drops down to pick up his fallen Pop-Tart and tosses it forcefully into the trash, letting the cabinet door slam shut behind him. He needs to get himself under control, he knows that. Unfortunately, when he makes it back to his room, the first thing that greets him is his unmade bed, a mocking reminder of everything he had and already lost.
He heads for the bathroom, hoping some cold water on his face might calm him down. He's not angry at Tony, he's angry with himself. But it's himself who looks back at him from the mirror, and in his anger, Steve forgets the consequences until after his fist breaks through his reflection. ]
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