ext_101706 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
smilingskull.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cap_ironman2008-06-22 02:54 pm
smilingskull.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2008-06-22 02:54 pm
Entry tags:
More fic!
Soooo, I seem to be a roll here with writing, so I have more fic! :)
Title: Does A Body Good
Pairings/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Rating: Pretty heavy/solid R. (Swearin' and mackin')
Fandom: More weird Movie!Verse + normal MU. Mentions of the New Avengers (before Civil War) and the Extremis.
Warnings: Nothin' really, except Tony angst.
Word Count: ~ 3,000
Disclaimer: The usual, no own, no profit, blah blah. Also, this is un-beta'd, so sorry in advance for typos if I missed any.
Because the weather had finally dipped down into the 80’s, and everyone was sick of being cooped up in the house and being air conditioned to death, Steve had suggested that an outing was in order. Peter and Mary Jane had suggested the Pier, and because no one had any better suggestions (the movies had that dreaded air conditioning that made everything feel unnaturally cool and sterile, and they knew any mall in the area would be packed) the Pier it was.
No one could find Wolverine to ask him if he wanted to go (this was not surprising), and when asked about the other missing Avenger’s whereabouts, Jarvis had only said “Mr. Stark wishes not to be disturbed.” Which really meant “He’s shut himself in the garage and will not hesitate to throw wrenches and other assorted pieces of metal at anyone that tries to get him to leave the house.” So Steve, Peter, MJ, Jessica (squared) and Luke set out without Logan or Tony.
When they returned several hours later (sweaty, hot, and in the case of Jessica Drew, rather sunburned) Wolverine was sitting on the couch with a beer and Tony was still missing. While the others went off to do various things and finish odds and ends, Steve stood in the entryway, hands on hips, and cleared his throat.
“Jarvis?” He asked, staring at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yes, sir?” The soft voice carried from one of the unknown speakers Tony had packed the house with.
“Is Tony still downstairs?” Steve could hear the pinch of annoyance in his own voice.
“Of course, sir.” Jarvis sounded singularly unimpressed with the fact that Tony was exactly where he had been for the last however many dozens of hours. “Shall I ask if he would permit company?”
Steve was not about to ask a house if he had permission to see Tony. That was all sorts of wrong and creepy and vaguely parental.
“No, it’s fine.” Steve lied, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Is Ms. Potts here?”
“She left 45 minutes ago.” Came the reply.
“Well, never mind then.” Steve muttered before walking off. Staging and intervention always worked better with Pepper as backup. Or in some cases, leading the charge. The woman could be persuasively scary if the situation warranted it.
At the top of the cement stairs to the garage Steve stopped, staring at the dull glow of light that was spilling through the glass panels. It illuminated the bottom few steps eerily.
“Have fun getting attacked with a soldering iron.” A voice behind him said with a hint of amusement, and said through a mouthful of something. Steve ticked his head to the side, sighing when he saw Logan grinning in his direction. He had a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, plus an empty bottle at his feet (which were propped up on the table, something Pepper hated with a passion but Logan and Tony had a rabid habit of doing) and was watching, in probably the most stupid display of red-blooded male ever, The Guys Choice awards. Some very plastic blonde was currently bouncing around on the screen announcing something. There wasn’t a whole lot of coverage up top happening. In all it looked like something out of a clichéd stereotype that Logan tended to fit frighteningly well.
“Hopefully he’s not working with anything totally lethal.” Steve replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Take Pepper.” Logan grunted, his attention back on the way-larger-than-needed plasma on the opposite wall. “Use her as a human shield. ‘S what I would do.” He took another swig of the beer.
“She went home.” Steve was getting annoyed with Logan. He had a tendency to look at Pepper in all the wrong ways (like down her blouse). Steve was fully aware that she was, in all actuality, one of the more intelligent and furiously driven women he had ever had the pleasure to meet.
Logan just shrugged. Bimbo McBlonde had his full, undivided attention again. Steve started down the stairs, one hand gliding along the smooth, metal railing. At the bottom, he peered through the glass, to find Tony armed only with a stylus, bent over one of his weird table/computer/tablet combinations and sketching furiously. Steve could deal with that, no fire or heavy metal. Touching in the combination to unlock the door (Which was something that Pepper had gifted him with) he hesitantly pushed open the door, before shaking his head at himself for being afraid of a pissed off Tony, and strode the rest of the way into the room, stopping a few feet from Tony’s back.
The man was covered in grease, dirt and had a burn on his arm which the Extremis hadn’t healed all the way quite yet. His hair was a total and utter mess and he was wearing, Steve noted with some amusement, a pair of bright red Crocs. As Steve watched, Tony tapped something on the table top/screen and a green and yellow image sprang into 3D. It rotated slowly, and Tony stuck the stylus behind his ear with one grime covered hand before reaching into the middle of the hologram (which Steve recognized as the external back piece of the War Machine armor) and ripped something out, dropping it into a little holographic trashcan in the corner of the screen.
“What do you need, Steve.” It wasn’t a question, and Steve could hear the lack of sleep in Tony’s voice. There were empty Red Bull cans and coffee cups scattered across various surfaces, Steve realized.
“I need you to come out of here, take a shower and get some sleep. You’ve been down here for four days.” Steve knew he was using his Boy Scout leader voice, the one he used when he was making some rather Patriotic or inspiring speech. MJ called it his “All American Tone”. It had gotten used a lot when the Avengers were getting their asses handed to them and someone had to rally right then and there or they were all going to get blown to kingdom come and back.
“I’m working.” Tony’s voice was oddly stoic. Steve knew this meant that Tony was upset about something, in case the shutting-of-self-in-lab/garage wasn’t enough of a tip off. Steve didn’t say anything, just watched Tony tinker with the hologram.
“Jarvis, fix piece WM C-12 with the specifications that are now in the computer. And then contact Colonel Rhodes and tell him his armor is no longer fucked up. Also, tell him to not get in the way of any more fucking anti-aircraft missiles.” Tony slammed the stylus back down on the table and grabbed a near by Red Bull can, draining it.
“Of course, sir.” Jarvis did not sound happy.
“Did you give him emotions?” Steve asked, genuinely interested. Tony turned around, and Steve could see a streak of what could only be brake-rotor dust across his nose. He had also managed to get bright yellow highlighter on his right temple somehow. Tony was glaring in his direction with a certain vehemence that Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.
“No. But my direct uplink to him seems to have done the job for me. Luckily, Jarvis lacks a physical body to kidnap me and drag me off to a pacific island with.” The amount of snark that Tony had managed to cram into those two sentences was rather impressive.
“Oh.” Steve wasn’t sure what to say. This is where Pepper had always come in handy. Speaking of Pepper, he noticed that her tablet PC was sitting, abandoned on one of Tony’s worktables. “Pepper left her computer here.” He gestured to it.
“I know. She asked me to look at it. Said some of my appointments kept disappearing or getting moved around.” Tony turned all the way around, facing Steve, resting against the cool metal of the table. There was a loop of wire hanging out of one of the front pockets in his pants.
“What’s wrong with it?” Steve asked, moving to pick it up. The smooth black case was minimal, and the thing was rather thin. Nothing more than a hand-held screen. Steve knew that Tony had designed, built and programmed it though, which meant that it could probably do just about anything. It also meant that the chance of something going awry with it was extremely minimal. Steve cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. Something dawned slowly in his head. He had always been rather hopeless with technology. “You gave this to Pepper for Christmas last year. So it’s not that old, and it’s all you, so it shouldn’t be broken already. Christmas was a few months after you got the Extremis.”
Steve could swear he saw the briefest hint of a smile flitter across Tony’s (chapped) lips.
“You’re hacking Pepper’s computer. Lovely.” Steve mumbled dryly and set it back down in its original position.
“It’s great, I don’t even have to go anywhere near it. So what if a few board meetings were interfering with other appointments that I had to get to? They were pressing engagements.” Tony had one corner of his mouth curled up in a sinister little half-grin. Steve just stared right back at him.
“What have you been doing down here all this time? And what has you so miffed and bothered?” Steve crossed his arms, tapped the heel of his left foot against the leg of the table. It made a dull metallic sound.
“Did you just say miffed?” Tony’s grin had become dual-sided. He seemed about to laugh. Steve was about 100% sure he didn’t need Tony laughing at his expense when he was feeling self-destructive and masochistic.
“Answer me first.” Steve was now matching Tony’s glare, bit for bit. Tony’s smile hadn’t extended to his eyes.
Tony didn’t say anything for a while, just sat there staring back at Steve. He ran a hand through his hair, wiped it across his brow. His face got dirtier as a consequence. Steve could see him calculating an answer that he thought would make Steve happy. One of the robots was humming softly in the background, along with Tony’s bank of computers. Tony made a high-pitched sucking noise, biting the inside of his lower lip, clicked his tongue against the roof his mouth.
“Just give me the answer. Not one that’ll sound good to me.” Steve said, walking towards Tony, putting his body in Tony’s personal space. Tony tapped his fingertips against his arms.
“I miss having armor to tinker with.” Tony said softly finally, looking down at his feet. He made the clicking noise again with his tongue. “I’ve been overhauling the cars. The R8 needed new brake pads, I changed out the gearshift. The new one looks cooler. I took apart the engine on the Elise and messed around with some stuff. One of the cylinders had a lower compression. And the tire pressure was wonky. I totally rehauled Rhodey’s armor after he was stupid enough to get hit buy a fucking missile. I gave it a new paint job. Upgraded the left shoulder mount. Fixed the wiring in the back plate. Ordered new hard drives because my old ones are too slow and I want more terabytes. Had Happy take the Cooper to storage, the Reventón gets here on Tuesday and I need the space. Fixed some bad programming in the SHIELD database.” Tony said this all in increasing speed, finished it at a fairly impressive clip. Steve wasn’t sure he understood the back half of it. Tony just stood there, looking limp, and very out of steam; as if he had gotten everything out that he needed to.
“You miss having armor to work on?” Steve was confused. Hadn’t Tony just said he was working on the War Machine armor?
“Mine. I miss my armor, being able to work on it. Now all I have to do is think and something gets fixed, gets better. Plus it fixes its self if something really wrong. Its got a freakin’ healing factor of its own.” Tony stopped here to rub his forehead; “I miss using my hands, digging around in circuitry and getting zapped by loose wires. I can feel the metal all the time, any time I want. But I have no use to fix it. And I hate that. I should love this, love that its part of me now. And I do, in some cases. I call the armor, mentally, and I get it. It’s there, in my hands, in me. That’s crazy Steve, you know? I could match Logan for number of metal detectors set off now. But I can’t rewire stuff, can’t cut, fix, mend it. It’s organic, and it’s me. But I can’t tinker. No more tinkering.” Tony hugged his shoulders, looking wary and tired, drawn. Steve could see bags under his eyes (which were bloodshot themselves).
Tony slumped forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s breastbone. For a second, Steve thought he had fallen asleep, but he heard Tony crack his fingers, one by one, slowly and in succession. Steve hesitantly wrapped his arms around Tony’s back, closing their bodies together. Tony shuffled a bit to get closer to Steve, so their chests where flush together, Tony’s head ended up propped on Steve’s shoulder, his breath and beard against his neck.
This was when Steve realized something.
“Tell you what. Let’s go take a shower. The muscles in your back are about to snap from the tension you’re carrying in your shoulders, and you smell like a very bad combination of oil, car and sweat. Warm water does a body some good. Also, you need to shave. You’re starting to look like a mountain man.” Steve ran a hand up and down Tony’s spine, feeling the muscles there hard as rock and just about as tense. He felt Tony let out a long, low breath against the skin under his ear, which turned into a smile.
“Not digging the lumberjack look?” Tony’s voice was muffled into Steve’s neck. He balled his hands in the front of Steve’s shirt, hooked his thumbs into the collar.
“You’re not quite that bad yet, but no. Not at all. When was the last time you saw a razor?” Steve just had to smile as he dragged his pointer finger over the mess of stubble and hair that was currently occupying Tony’s jaw line.
“Probably about a week ago.” Tony sounded rather despondent at this. “God, I must look like crap.”
“You kind of do. Half of that is the smell though. And the dirt.” Steve pushed him back a little, so that he could actually look him in the face. “Come on.” And then took his hands, backing up slowly and dragging Tony towards the door. Tony’s hands were beat up and rough under Steve’s. Amazingly, he followed Steve, a sort of smile on his face.
Somehow Steve managed to get Tony all the way up to Tony’s room (even though Steve had been sleeping there for months, it still seemed to be Tony’s room somehow.) and shove him in the direction of the bathroom. When Tony caught sight of himself in the mirror, he just stood and stared for a few moments.
“Steve, you lied when I said I look like crap.” Tony reached out to trace his reflection in the giant mirror over the twin sinks. “I look like total and utter shit. Holy cow. You were right about the mountain man thing.” Steve just rolled his eyes.
“I was serious about the very bad smell too.” Steve responded, and then sidled up to Tony, pulling his shit over his head. It got dropped on the floor in a rather unhappy heap. The Crocs got toed off. Tony’s pants followed, and then Steve’s shirt, which got a place on the nearest towel rack, as it was actually semi-clean and did not smell like a locker room (although Tony had left two greasy fist prints in the fabric). Steve’s pants, and then all pairs of underwear present, weren’t far behind.
“Hey Jarvis.” Tony drawled lazily (it looked like the Red Bull was starting to wear off) “Can we get the shower on?” Tony pressed his body to Steve’s, hooked a leg between Steve’s and tilted his head up to kiss the other man. Tony tasted like energy drinks, coffee and, somehow, the garage, if it even had a taste. Steve smiled into the kiss at this, letting his hands rumple Tony’s already terribly messy hair, cascading down over the pale skin of Tony’s shoulders and biceps, which moved under Steve’s hands as Tony wrapped his arms around Steve.
“You know.” Steve mumbled into Tony’s jaw, where his mouth was currently occupied, “If you miss using your hands, you can always use them on me.” Steve could feel his ears turn red just saying it. He was, somehow, still shy about saying things like that.
Tony laughed in response, gave a little “I know” and preceded to drag nails across Steve’s lower back, making him arch into Tony. Steve sucked in a quick breath, felt his stomach jump and his body heat up. It was like someone had dropped him into a pool of boiling water, the temperature roiling up and over his body, fire licking up his limbs and settling into his groin.
“C’mon, we have a shower waiting” Tony whispered against Steve’s ear, moving them backwards in a tangle of limbs that ended with them against the far wall of the shower, where they had sort of half-walked, half-tripped to. Steve was pining Tony to the cool tile, and Tony gave a contented little sigh into the stream of the water. He kissed Steve’s collarbone up to his shoulder in soft, little motions.
“You’re right.” Tony was at the other ear now, nipping and kissing in between words, “This does do a body good.”
Title: Does A Body Good
Pairings/Characters: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Rating: Pretty heavy/solid R. (Swearin' and mackin')
Fandom: More weird Movie!Verse + normal MU. Mentions of the New Avengers (before Civil War) and the Extremis.
Warnings: Nothin' really, except Tony angst.
Word Count: ~ 3,000
Disclaimer: The usual, no own, no profit, blah blah. Also, this is un-beta'd, so sorry in advance for typos if I missed any.
Because the weather had finally dipped down into the 80’s, and everyone was sick of being cooped up in the house and being air conditioned to death, Steve had suggested that an outing was in order. Peter and Mary Jane had suggested the Pier, and because no one had any better suggestions (the movies had that dreaded air conditioning that made everything feel unnaturally cool and sterile, and they knew any mall in the area would be packed) the Pier it was.
No one could find Wolverine to ask him if he wanted to go (this was not surprising), and when asked about the other missing Avenger’s whereabouts, Jarvis had only said “Mr. Stark wishes not to be disturbed.” Which really meant “He’s shut himself in the garage and will not hesitate to throw wrenches and other assorted pieces of metal at anyone that tries to get him to leave the house.” So Steve, Peter, MJ, Jessica (squared) and Luke set out without Logan or Tony.
When they returned several hours later (sweaty, hot, and in the case of Jessica Drew, rather sunburned) Wolverine was sitting on the couch with a beer and Tony was still missing. While the others went off to do various things and finish odds and ends, Steve stood in the entryway, hands on hips, and cleared his throat.
“Jarvis?” He asked, staring at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yes, sir?” The soft voice carried from one of the unknown speakers Tony had packed the house with.
“Is Tony still downstairs?” Steve could hear the pinch of annoyance in his own voice.
“Of course, sir.” Jarvis sounded singularly unimpressed with the fact that Tony was exactly where he had been for the last however many dozens of hours. “Shall I ask if he would permit company?”
Steve was not about to ask a house if he had permission to see Tony. That was all sorts of wrong and creepy and vaguely parental.
“No, it’s fine.” Steve lied, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Is Ms. Potts here?”
“She left 45 minutes ago.” Came the reply.
“Well, never mind then.” Steve muttered before walking off. Staging and intervention always worked better with Pepper as backup. Or in some cases, leading the charge. The woman could be persuasively scary if the situation warranted it.
At the top of the cement stairs to the garage Steve stopped, staring at the dull glow of light that was spilling through the glass panels. It illuminated the bottom few steps eerily.
“Have fun getting attacked with a soldering iron.” A voice behind him said with a hint of amusement, and said through a mouthful of something. Steve ticked his head to the side, sighing when he saw Logan grinning in his direction. He had a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, plus an empty bottle at his feet (which were propped up on the table, something Pepper hated with a passion but Logan and Tony had a rabid habit of doing) and was watching, in probably the most stupid display of red-blooded male ever, The Guys Choice awards. Some very plastic blonde was currently bouncing around on the screen announcing something. There wasn’t a whole lot of coverage up top happening. In all it looked like something out of a clichéd stereotype that Logan tended to fit frighteningly well.
“Hopefully he’s not working with anything totally lethal.” Steve replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Take Pepper.” Logan grunted, his attention back on the way-larger-than-needed plasma on the opposite wall. “Use her as a human shield. ‘S what I would do.” He took another swig of the beer.
“She went home.” Steve was getting annoyed with Logan. He had a tendency to look at Pepper in all the wrong ways (like down her blouse). Steve was fully aware that she was, in all actuality, one of the more intelligent and furiously driven women he had ever had the pleasure to meet.
Logan just shrugged. Bimbo McBlonde had his full, undivided attention again. Steve started down the stairs, one hand gliding along the smooth, metal railing. At the bottom, he peered through the glass, to find Tony armed only with a stylus, bent over one of his weird table/computer/tablet combinations and sketching furiously. Steve could deal with that, no fire or heavy metal. Touching in the combination to unlock the door (Which was something that Pepper had gifted him with) he hesitantly pushed open the door, before shaking his head at himself for being afraid of a pissed off Tony, and strode the rest of the way into the room, stopping a few feet from Tony’s back.
The man was covered in grease, dirt and had a burn on his arm which the Extremis hadn’t healed all the way quite yet. His hair was a total and utter mess and he was wearing, Steve noted with some amusement, a pair of bright red Crocs. As Steve watched, Tony tapped something on the table top/screen and a green and yellow image sprang into 3D. It rotated slowly, and Tony stuck the stylus behind his ear with one grime covered hand before reaching into the middle of the hologram (which Steve recognized as the external back piece of the War Machine armor) and ripped something out, dropping it into a little holographic trashcan in the corner of the screen.
“What do you need, Steve.” It wasn’t a question, and Steve could hear the lack of sleep in Tony’s voice. There were empty Red Bull cans and coffee cups scattered across various surfaces, Steve realized.
“I need you to come out of here, take a shower and get some sleep. You’ve been down here for four days.” Steve knew he was using his Boy Scout leader voice, the one he used when he was making some rather Patriotic or inspiring speech. MJ called it his “All American Tone”. It had gotten used a lot when the Avengers were getting their asses handed to them and someone had to rally right then and there or they were all going to get blown to kingdom come and back.
“I’m working.” Tony’s voice was oddly stoic. Steve knew this meant that Tony was upset about something, in case the shutting-of-self-in-lab/garage wasn’t enough of a tip off. Steve didn’t say anything, just watched Tony tinker with the hologram.
“Jarvis, fix piece WM C-12 with the specifications that are now in the computer. And then contact Colonel Rhodes and tell him his armor is no longer fucked up. Also, tell him to not get in the way of any more fucking anti-aircraft missiles.” Tony slammed the stylus back down on the table and grabbed a near by Red Bull can, draining it.
“Of course, sir.” Jarvis did not sound happy.
“Did you give him emotions?” Steve asked, genuinely interested. Tony turned around, and Steve could see a streak of what could only be brake-rotor dust across his nose. He had also managed to get bright yellow highlighter on his right temple somehow. Tony was glaring in his direction with a certain vehemence that Steve wasn’t sure he deserved.
“No. But my direct uplink to him seems to have done the job for me. Luckily, Jarvis lacks a physical body to kidnap me and drag me off to a pacific island with.” The amount of snark that Tony had managed to cram into those two sentences was rather impressive.
“Oh.” Steve wasn’t sure what to say. This is where Pepper had always come in handy. Speaking of Pepper, he noticed that her tablet PC was sitting, abandoned on one of Tony’s worktables. “Pepper left her computer here.” He gestured to it.
“I know. She asked me to look at it. Said some of my appointments kept disappearing or getting moved around.” Tony turned all the way around, facing Steve, resting against the cool metal of the table. There was a loop of wire hanging out of one of the front pockets in his pants.
“What’s wrong with it?” Steve asked, moving to pick it up. The smooth black case was minimal, and the thing was rather thin. Nothing more than a hand-held screen. Steve knew that Tony had designed, built and programmed it though, which meant that it could probably do just about anything. It also meant that the chance of something going awry with it was extremely minimal. Steve cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. Something dawned slowly in his head. He had always been rather hopeless with technology. “You gave this to Pepper for Christmas last year. So it’s not that old, and it’s all you, so it shouldn’t be broken already. Christmas was a few months after you got the Extremis.”
Steve could swear he saw the briefest hint of a smile flitter across Tony’s (chapped) lips.
“You’re hacking Pepper’s computer. Lovely.” Steve mumbled dryly and set it back down in its original position.
“It’s great, I don’t even have to go anywhere near it. So what if a few board meetings were interfering with other appointments that I had to get to? They were pressing engagements.” Tony had one corner of his mouth curled up in a sinister little half-grin. Steve just stared right back at him.
“What have you been doing down here all this time? And what has you so miffed and bothered?” Steve crossed his arms, tapped the heel of his left foot against the leg of the table. It made a dull metallic sound.
“Did you just say miffed?” Tony’s grin had become dual-sided. He seemed about to laugh. Steve was about 100% sure he didn’t need Tony laughing at his expense when he was feeling self-destructive and masochistic.
“Answer me first.” Steve was now matching Tony’s glare, bit for bit. Tony’s smile hadn’t extended to his eyes.
Tony didn’t say anything for a while, just sat there staring back at Steve. He ran a hand through his hair, wiped it across his brow. His face got dirtier as a consequence. Steve could see him calculating an answer that he thought would make Steve happy. One of the robots was humming softly in the background, along with Tony’s bank of computers. Tony made a high-pitched sucking noise, biting the inside of his lower lip, clicked his tongue against the roof his mouth.
“Just give me the answer. Not one that’ll sound good to me.” Steve said, walking towards Tony, putting his body in Tony’s personal space. Tony tapped his fingertips against his arms.
“I miss having armor to tinker with.” Tony said softly finally, looking down at his feet. He made the clicking noise again with his tongue. “I’ve been overhauling the cars. The R8 needed new brake pads, I changed out the gearshift. The new one looks cooler. I took apart the engine on the Elise and messed around with some stuff. One of the cylinders had a lower compression. And the tire pressure was wonky. I totally rehauled Rhodey’s armor after he was stupid enough to get hit buy a fucking missile. I gave it a new paint job. Upgraded the left shoulder mount. Fixed the wiring in the back plate. Ordered new hard drives because my old ones are too slow and I want more terabytes. Had Happy take the Cooper to storage, the Reventón gets here on Tuesday and I need the space. Fixed some bad programming in the SHIELD database.” Tony said this all in increasing speed, finished it at a fairly impressive clip. Steve wasn’t sure he understood the back half of it. Tony just stood there, looking limp, and very out of steam; as if he had gotten everything out that he needed to.
“You miss having armor to work on?” Steve was confused. Hadn’t Tony just said he was working on the War Machine armor?
“Mine. I miss my armor, being able to work on it. Now all I have to do is think and something gets fixed, gets better. Plus it fixes its self if something really wrong. Its got a freakin’ healing factor of its own.” Tony stopped here to rub his forehead; “I miss using my hands, digging around in circuitry and getting zapped by loose wires. I can feel the metal all the time, any time I want. But I have no use to fix it. And I hate that. I should love this, love that its part of me now. And I do, in some cases. I call the armor, mentally, and I get it. It’s there, in my hands, in me. That’s crazy Steve, you know? I could match Logan for number of metal detectors set off now. But I can’t rewire stuff, can’t cut, fix, mend it. It’s organic, and it’s me. But I can’t tinker. No more tinkering.” Tony hugged his shoulders, looking wary and tired, drawn. Steve could see bags under his eyes (which were bloodshot themselves).
Tony slumped forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s breastbone. For a second, Steve thought he had fallen asleep, but he heard Tony crack his fingers, one by one, slowly and in succession. Steve hesitantly wrapped his arms around Tony’s back, closing their bodies together. Tony shuffled a bit to get closer to Steve, so their chests where flush together, Tony’s head ended up propped on Steve’s shoulder, his breath and beard against his neck.
This was when Steve realized something.
“Tell you what. Let’s go take a shower. The muscles in your back are about to snap from the tension you’re carrying in your shoulders, and you smell like a very bad combination of oil, car and sweat. Warm water does a body some good. Also, you need to shave. You’re starting to look like a mountain man.” Steve ran a hand up and down Tony’s spine, feeling the muscles there hard as rock and just about as tense. He felt Tony let out a long, low breath against the skin under his ear, which turned into a smile.
“Not digging the lumberjack look?” Tony’s voice was muffled into Steve’s neck. He balled his hands in the front of Steve’s shirt, hooked his thumbs into the collar.
“You’re not quite that bad yet, but no. Not at all. When was the last time you saw a razor?” Steve just had to smile as he dragged his pointer finger over the mess of stubble and hair that was currently occupying Tony’s jaw line.
“Probably about a week ago.” Tony sounded rather despondent at this. “God, I must look like crap.”
“You kind of do. Half of that is the smell though. And the dirt.” Steve pushed him back a little, so that he could actually look him in the face. “Come on.” And then took his hands, backing up slowly and dragging Tony towards the door. Tony’s hands were beat up and rough under Steve’s. Amazingly, he followed Steve, a sort of smile on his face.
Somehow Steve managed to get Tony all the way up to Tony’s room (even though Steve had been sleeping there for months, it still seemed to be Tony’s room somehow.) and shove him in the direction of the bathroom. When Tony caught sight of himself in the mirror, he just stood and stared for a few moments.
“Steve, you lied when I said I look like crap.” Tony reached out to trace his reflection in the giant mirror over the twin sinks. “I look like total and utter shit. Holy cow. You were right about the mountain man thing.” Steve just rolled his eyes.
“I was serious about the very bad smell too.” Steve responded, and then sidled up to Tony, pulling his shit over his head. It got dropped on the floor in a rather unhappy heap. The Crocs got toed off. Tony’s pants followed, and then Steve’s shirt, which got a place on the nearest towel rack, as it was actually semi-clean and did not smell like a locker room (although Tony had left two greasy fist prints in the fabric). Steve’s pants, and then all pairs of underwear present, weren’t far behind.
“Hey Jarvis.” Tony drawled lazily (it looked like the Red Bull was starting to wear off) “Can we get the shower on?” Tony pressed his body to Steve’s, hooked a leg between Steve’s and tilted his head up to kiss the other man. Tony tasted like energy drinks, coffee and, somehow, the garage, if it even had a taste. Steve smiled into the kiss at this, letting his hands rumple Tony’s already terribly messy hair, cascading down over the pale skin of Tony’s shoulders and biceps, which moved under Steve’s hands as Tony wrapped his arms around Steve.
“You know.” Steve mumbled into Tony’s jaw, where his mouth was currently occupied, “If you miss using your hands, you can always use them on me.” Steve could feel his ears turn red just saying it. He was, somehow, still shy about saying things like that.
Tony laughed in response, gave a little “I know” and preceded to drag nails across Steve’s lower back, making him arch into Tony. Steve sucked in a quick breath, felt his stomach jump and his body heat up. It was like someone had dropped him into a pool of boiling water, the temperature roiling up and over his body, fire licking up his limbs and settling into his groin.
“C’mon, we have a shower waiting” Tony whispered against Steve’s ear, moving them backwards in a tangle of limbs that ended with them against the far wall of the shower, where they had sort of half-walked, half-tripped to. Steve was pining Tony to the cool tile, and Tony gave a contented little sigh into the stream of the water. He kissed Steve’s collarbone up to his shoulder in soft, little motions.
“You’re right.” Tony was at the other ear now, nipping and kissing in between words, “This does do a body good.”
no subject
no subject
This is really nice; sorta sweet and sexy at the same time.
no subject
no subject
no subject
-The relationships between Jarvis, Pepper, and Steve. The computer thing completely freaks Steve out, and that's great, and even though she's not here Pepper is wonderfully written. She and Steve would totally gang up for Tony's own good.
-Logan. Yes. <3, just, <3
-The manly faceoff
-Dirty Tony... and his crocks.
-Shy Steve attempting dirty talk. ;)
BTW, if you'd like a style and grammar beta, I'd be happy to help. Though be warned, I'm kind of a nazi.
no subject
Deep insight on the no more tinkering part.
no subject
Also, the image of the two of them in the shower together is very nice indeed :).
no subject
Poor Tony, he just doesn't know how to take care of himself. *pets Tony* This was definitely a new aspect to that. I tend to make different assumptions about how the Extremis and the armor work, both independently and together, but this was a really interesting and rich possibility to see explored.
Also, the shower scene was deeply hot. *g* Mmmmm.
no subject
^___^
no subject
no subject
*Only two years.
no subject