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cap_ironman2009-12-25 11:22 am
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2009-12-25 11:22 am
Happy holidays, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
m_steelgrave!
And Merry Christmas to all those celebrating it. Have a wonderful day, all.
Title: Nothing Morning Coffee Can’t Fix
Prompt #2: Steve realizes Tony is attempting to sober up.
Universe: Ults.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,252
Summary: There’s only so much you can do for a man like Tony Stark.
A/N: Hope this fic fulfills your wish and may your holidays be merry! Oh and I did check out mythbusters – coffee doesn’t actually sober you up. There was research involved!
“Stark, it’s 8 in the morning.”
Tony saluted Steve briefly with his mug, before downing it swiftly as he sat up from the kitchen counter.
“Well you know what they say. ‘The best part of waking up is Bacardi in your cup.’”
Steve still wasn’t completely ‘in with the times,’ but he was pretty damn sure that wasn’t how the jingle went. Jan’s expression at least confirmed that.
That was the morning Steve figured out Tony had a problem. Granted, there were various signs Tony had a problem, but this had been the most outlandish. Particularly when he brushed Jan aside as he told her he had a board meeting. Steve wondered how well that one went over.
The main problem was no one really wanted to say anything about it. Tony was their endorser, but more importantly a teammate. Steve kept himself that he’d do something about it, but Tony wasn’t interfering with any of the missions…yet.
Maybe the reason Steve couldn’t do anything was because he didn’t want to attempt and fail. He knew how this pattern worked. You intercede; the person flat out denies it and then has a breakdown. Rinse, wash, repeat. It doesn’t change that person will be sneaking out to a liquor store the next day.
If Steve was going to make a suggestion, it was going to be when Tony showed signs he wanted to change. Because a man has to show he wants to be helped. Steve learned that lesson well enough early in his life.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve’s a little surprised a few weeks later to find Tony, hands shakily pouring himself what seems to be his third cup of imported coffee – no Bacardi. He’s also not wearing the sunglasses he’s been so prone to lately either.
Steve wonders briefly what made the change, but instead just comments, “Caffeine isn’t going to fix that, you know.”
Tony’s fist tightens on his bland mug momentarily, before he reins his temper. He turns to Steve, flipping his disheveled hair back with free hand.
His voice is calm, controlled. “Oh?” He inquires; his eyes bloodshot and tired. But at least he’s left the sunglasses in his pocket this morning. “Tell me then, what would you suggest?” He slams the mug down probably a little harder than he intended.
“I know a few tricks.” Steve admits shrugging as he takes a seat near the counter. “And I know coffee isn’t one of them.”
“Tricks?” Tony asks slightly amused. “We are talking about cures for hangovers, right?”
“To sober up.” Steve clarifies. Granted, Steve knew these methods wouldn’t necessarily keep him sober, but Tony’s trying here. And Steve’s feeling generous today. “Learned them in the Army.”
“Good Old fashioned remedies, huh?” He catches Steve’s expression and backpedals. “No, no please,” Tony takes another sip out of his cup and waves his hand as the words echo within the cup, “impart your wisdom.”
He could stop, but Starks looks sincerely interested. Besides, as much of a prick Stark is, Steve general tolerates, hell, even enjoys his company. Steve scratches his neck and tries to quickly think of the list he knew of. “Exercise. The best one I know is running.”
Tony’s stare seems to imply Steve’s insane. “You do realize this suit is Armani.”
“You do you realize you could change into something else.”
“I have a meeting in an hour. No running.”
Fine. Suggestion two. Steve leaned back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips. “I could always slap you around a bit.”
“Does that actually work?” Tony laughs. There’s a sick desperation in there that Steve chooses to ignore. He’s tired, he can tell from the way he rubs his face and beard.
“Yeah, actually.”
“There’s seems to be a story behind that.” There was. Steve remembers the time he was with the Canadian unit. Howlett, him, a few others from the unit had managed to find a whole supply of Schnapps buried in one of the locals’ abandoned cellars. It had been a good night. At least until the sun rose up and Horton flipped when he realized Fury was probably going to find them like this. To sober him up, Howlett gave him a good slap across the face. The kid had never sobered up faster in his life.
Fury still found them and made them run ‘til they threw up all the previous night’s liquor.
“Well…why don’t you?” Tony’s voice breaks the memory and Steve’s caught unguarded momentarily. Tony’s still smiling.
“Hm?”
“Hit me. I’m up for anything really, at this point.”
“Except running.”
“Except running. I do have a schedule to keep.”
For all the times Steve wanted to smack Tony, this wasn’t one of them.
“I’m…” He contemplated it but, no. “I’m not gonna hit you, Stark. You can’t go to a meeting with a black eye.” Or passed out.
Tony heaves a melodramatic sigh, throwing his hands in defeat. “For all these remedies, coffee still seems to be winning out. You can’t offer anything more appealing?”
“Well you could always,” but Steve cuts himself off when he thinks better of it. He wasn’t exactly sure if this one worked, and it was only a rumored during showers and late night card games.
“Always…” Tony leans over the counter closer to Steve.
“You know...” Steve is not blushing when he flicks his wrists in a vulgar enough manner to get the sentiment across, but he’s clearly not looking at Tony.
When he does, Stark’s grin is positively shit-eating. “These are tricks the Army taught you?”
The army taught him other things, like ‘Hurry up and wait.’ He was going to explain that his was something he only heard of working, but Stark’s caught onto something and he’s going to twist it in his favor.
“Or was this something the boys taught you?” Tony leers. “This is something you learned by watching didn’t you?” And Stark’s stare digs, making something heavy settle in Steve’s gut.
Steve’s not entirely surprised this is where the conversation has turned. This isn’t the first time Tony has hinted. He’s a smart bastard, and he can catch a wandering eye. What else was the super serum really supposed to fix, Rogers?
One of the earlier times he had insinuated, Steve told him that back in his day you could get your teeth smashed in for saying something like that. Tony had smiled and told him you still could in some places, but mostly you just got something better for your bluntness – that usually involved just the right amount of teeth.
It has turned into something like a cat and mouse game between them. Steve never really understands why he pries so much – but maybe Stark did this with everybody. Steve can’t place what he actually wants out of these little banters – they both know it’s not leading anywhere.
Steve wonders sometimes if it was just because he was Captain America and Tony Stark had no shame.
And sure, Tony sleeps around, but Steve never got the ‘notch in your bedpost’ type of mentality out of him that most did. No, Tony was just trying to fill up some empty part of him. And he filled it up with a lot of things. Sex was one of them.
The alcohol and these games are another. So Steve plays. It doesn’t hurt to give in a little and tactfully back out before your opponent can call checkmate. So Tony gets to have his chase and Steve…
Steve doesn’t really know what he gets out of it.
“You know, I had a girlfriend during the war.” Actually two in total since then.
“Pfft. Like that proves anything. I nearly had a wife.” Well, yes. Everyone knew that. Steve wonders briefly how drunk Tony is that he’s able to laugh about the remark.
With a burdened sigh, Steve sits up from the table, waving Tony off. “If you want a running partner, you just let me know.” It’s obvious that Steve isn’t going to get any further with this and Stark’s toying with him at this point. He’s had enough of their game today; he has other things to occupy his time with.
Steve stretches then and strides out of the kitchen. His conviction wavers however, when he hears muffled from the other side, “I didn’t hear a clear confirmation on that one, Cap!”
Well, damn it. Now he wanted a drink.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve’s a light sleeper, and Stark drunk is far from quiet.
He carefully opens his eyes to find a figure –Stark – in his bedroom doorway. The hallway light bleeding onto the floor making his rumpled silhouette all the more ridiculous and glorified.
“The coffee’s not working.” Tony explains by way of entering. He has the decency to close the door, and not completely collapse on top of Steve when he reaches the bedside. Just leans over peering down over Steve as if figuring out what to do. The bed shifts from his knee.
“I don’t smell any coffee on your breath.” No; just a load of some cheap vodka. You’d think for such a rich bastard, he could afford some decent alcohol to trash himself with. Or find some better company this late at night.
“As it happens to turn out, I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”
Steve turns his head slightly, looking past Tony’s arm and blurrily spots the jarring red digits in the darkness. “Running? At 1 am in the morning?”
“Well, not exactly. I’m a sick man, you do realize, Steve. The doctors have suggested against running.”
Steve knows he’s tired, because he’s appreciating Stark’s humor. He can’t quite bite down his smile. “That’s a lie.”
Tony hums softly as he leans his head down and Steve can feel his beard scratch his ear. “I was thinking of a different kind of exercise.” And then there’s a calloused hand rubbing soft circles at the hem of his boxers, and Tony isn’t as funny as he was before.
“Stark…” Steve growls, but it comes off far less threatening than he would have liked. Tony’s fingers are simultaneously erotic and deplorably unsatisfying, brushing against the valley of Steve’s hipbone, and nowhere near the coarser hair he could reach.
“If you close your eyes, I’ll let you call me by any pretty name that you like.”
Steve reaches his hand up, pulls on his oil stained undershirt and tugs. He could throw him off the bed, throw him out right now.
Tony smells like he’s been in drinking, it pools around him, just like Tony’s body heat. But there’s also something metallic, something hard and real and Tony and – and Steve wants to find it underneath all that damn booze. And maybe this is the only remedy that can get through to Tony. Hide one addiction with another.
His movement’s fast, like his decision as the bed creaks, and Tony’s on his back, eyes lingering, pupils blown and searching. Steve fights down that little bit of pride welling up in him, and thinks he might have finally won the upper hand in their little game.
Tony’s jaw slacks in surprise to say something but Steve cuts him off, his hand digging into the hip beneath him. “Tony, just shut the hell up.” And Steve makes sure he does by shoving his tongue as far down Tony’s throat as he can.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve tries not to notice the bloodshot eyes that slide under thick dark sunglasses the next morning. Steve shouldn’t be surprised. Then again, Steve knew none of his remedies were permanent but then he wonders why he even tried.
“You know, you were right.” Tony starts conversationally, leaning lazily on the kitchen counter. “Coffee doesn’t work as well as what you suggested.”
Steve is sore, and feels a little weighted and sluggish, and he can’t blame that on the alcohol off of Tony’s lips. That something is regret when waking up to an empty bed.
“I’m still looking into other methods, but I can still count on you for another early morning run, right?” Tony asks smirking as he fails to fully fix his tie and pockets his cell. “If the urge ever arises, I mean.” It must be one hell of an expression on Steve’s face because Jan’s eyebrow is arched near the top of her head and Hank has made himself smartly scarce.
And with a barely heard chuckle, Tony’s out on his way out the door, to one of his damnable meetings no doubt, and Steve is left with a splintered mug handle in his hand.
There’s only so much you can do for a friend like Tony Stark. So next time, Stark asks for a sober-up, Steve decides he was just gonna go with the smacking technique. Or perhaps a good crack in the jaw
Title: Nothing Morning Coffee Can’t Fix
Prompt #2: Steve realizes Tony is attempting to sober up.
Universe: Ults.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,252
Summary: There’s only so much you can do for a man like Tony Stark.
A/N: Hope this fic fulfills your wish and may your holidays be merry! Oh and I did check out mythbusters – coffee doesn’t actually sober you up. There was research involved!
“Stark, it’s 8 in the morning.”
Tony saluted Steve briefly with his mug, before downing it swiftly as he sat up from the kitchen counter.
“Well you know what they say. ‘The best part of waking up is Bacardi in your cup.’”
Steve still wasn’t completely ‘in with the times,’ but he was pretty damn sure that wasn’t how the jingle went. Jan’s expression at least confirmed that.
That was the morning Steve figured out Tony had a problem. Granted, there were various signs Tony had a problem, but this had been the most outlandish. Particularly when he brushed Jan aside as he told her he had a board meeting. Steve wondered how well that one went over.
The main problem was no one really wanted to say anything about it. Tony was their endorser, but more importantly a teammate. Steve kept himself that he’d do something about it, but Tony wasn’t interfering with any of the missions…yet.
Maybe the reason Steve couldn’t do anything was because he didn’t want to attempt and fail. He knew how this pattern worked. You intercede; the person flat out denies it and then has a breakdown. Rinse, wash, repeat. It doesn’t change that person will be sneaking out to a liquor store the next day.
If Steve was going to make a suggestion, it was going to be when Tony showed signs he wanted to change. Because a man has to show he wants to be helped. Steve learned that lesson well enough early in his life.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve’s a little surprised a few weeks later to find Tony, hands shakily pouring himself what seems to be his third cup of imported coffee – no Bacardi. He’s also not wearing the sunglasses he’s been so prone to lately either.
Steve wonders briefly what made the change, but instead just comments, “Caffeine isn’t going to fix that, you know.”
Tony’s fist tightens on his bland mug momentarily, before he reins his temper. He turns to Steve, flipping his disheveled hair back with free hand.
His voice is calm, controlled. “Oh?” He inquires; his eyes bloodshot and tired. But at least he’s left the sunglasses in his pocket this morning. “Tell me then, what would you suggest?” He slams the mug down probably a little harder than he intended.
“I know a few tricks.” Steve admits shrugging as he takes a seat near the counter. “And I know coffee isn’t one of them.”
“Tricks?” Tony asks slightly amused. “We are talking about cures for hangovers, right?”
“To sober up.” Steve clarifies. Granted, Steve knew these methods wouldn’t necessarily keep him sober, but Tony’s trying here. And Steve’s feeling generous today. “Learned them in the Army.”
“Good Old fashioned remedies, huh?” He catches Steve’s expression and backpedals. “No, no please,” Tony takes another sip out of his cup and waves his hand as the words echo within the cup, “impart your wisdom.”
He could stop, but Starks looks sincerely interested. Besides, as much of a prick Stark is, Steve general tolerates, hell, even enjoys his company. Steve scratches his neck and tries to quickly think of the list he knew of. “Exercise. The best one I know is running.”
Tony’s stare seems to imply Steve’s insane. “You do realize this suit is Armani.”
“You do you realize you could change into something else.”
“I have a meeting in an hour. No running.”
Fine. Suggestion two. Steve leaned back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips. “I could always slap you around a bit.”
“Does that actually work?” Tony laughs. There’s a sick desperation in there that Steve chooses to ignore. He’s tired, he can tell from the way he rubs his face and beard.
“Yeah, actually.”
“There’s seems to be a story behind that.” There was. Steve remembers the time he was with the Canadian unit. Howlett, him, a few others from the unit had managed to find a whole supply of Schnapps buried in one of the locals’ abandoned cellars. It had been a good night. At least until the sun rose up and Horton flipped when he realized Fury was probably going to find them like this. To sober him up, Howlett gave him a good slap across the face. The kid had never sobered up faster in his life.
Fury still found them and made them run ‘til they threw up all the previous night’s liquor.
“Well…why don’t you?” Tony’s voice breaks the memory and Steve’s caught unguarded momentarily. Tony’s still smiling.
“Hm?”
“Hit me. I’m up for anything really, at this point.”
“Except running.”
“Except running. I do have a schedule to keep.”
For all the times Steve wanted to smack Tony, this wasn’t one of them.
“I’m…” He contemplated it but, no. “I’m not gonna hit you, Stark. You can’t go to a meeting with a black eye.” Or passed out.
Tony heaves a melodramatic sigh, throwing his hands in defeat. “For all these remedies, coffee still seems to be winning out. You can’t offer anything more appealing?”
“Well you could always,” but Steve cuts himself off when he thinks better of it. He wasn’t exactly sure if this one worked, and it was only a rumored during showers and late night card games.
“Always…” Tony leans over the counter closer to Steve.
“You know...” Steve is not blushing when he flicks his wrists in a vulgar enough manner to get the sentiment across, but he’s clearly not looking at Tony.
When he does, Stark’s grin is positively shit-eating. “These are tricks the Army taught you?”
The army taught him other things, like ‘Hurry up and wait.’ He was going to explain that his was something he only heard of working, but Stark’s caught onto something and he’s going to twist it in his favor.
“Or was this something the boys taught you?” Tony leers. “This is something you learned by watching didn’t you?” And Stark’s stare digs, making something heavy settle in Steve’s gut.
Steve’s not entirely surprised this is where the conversation has turned. This isn’t the first time Tony has hinted. He’s a smart bastard, and he can catch a wandering eye. What else was the super serum really supposed to fix, Rogers?
One of the earlier times he had insinuated, Steve told him that back in his day you could get your teeth smashed in for saying something like that. Tony had smiled and told him you still could in some places, but mostly you just got something better for your bluntness – that usually involved just the right amount of teeth.
It has turned into something like a cat and mouse game between them. Steve never really understands why he pries so much – but maybe Stark did this with everybody. Steve can’t place what he actually wants out of these little banters – they both know it’s not leading anywhere.
Steve wonders sometimes if it was just because he was Captain America and Tony Stark had no shame.
And sure, Tony sleeps around, but Steve never got the ‘notch in your bedpost’ type of mentality out of him that most did. No, Tony was just trying to fill up some empty part of him. And he filled it up with a lot of things. Sex was one of them.
The alcohol and these games are another. So Steve plays. It doesn’t hurt to give in a little and tactfully back out before your opponent can call checkmate. So Tony gets to have his chase and Steve…
Steve doesn’t really know what he gets out of it.
“You know, I had a girlfriend during the war.” Actually two in total since then.
“Pfft. Like that proves anything. I nearly had a wife.” Well, yes. Everyone knew that. Steve wonders briefly how drunk Tony is that he’s able to laugh about the remark.
With a burdened sigh, Steve sits up from the table, waving Tony off. “If you want a running partner, you just let me know.” It’s obvious that Steve isn’t going to get any further with this and Stark’s toying with him at this point. He’s had enough of their game today; he has other things to occupy his time with.
Steve stretches then and strides out of the kitchen. His conviction wavers however, when he hears muffled from the other side, “I didn’t hear a clear confirmation on that one, Cap!”
Well, damn it. Now he wanted a drink.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve’s a light sleeper, and Stark drunk is far from quiet.
He carefully opens his eyes to find a figure –Stark – in his bedroom doorway. The hallway light bleeding onto the floor making his rumpled silhouette all the more ridiculous and glorified.
“The coffee’s not working.” Tony explains by way of entering. He has the decency to close the door, and not completely collapse on top of Steve when he reaches the bedside. Just leans over peering down over Steve as if figuring out what to do. The bed shifts from his knee.
“I don’t smell any coffee on your breath.” No; just a load of some cheap vodka. You’d think for such a rich bastard, he could afford some decent alcohol to trash himself with. Or find some better company this late at night.
“As it happens to turn out, I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”
Steve turns his head slightly, looking past Tony’s arm and blurrily spots the jarring red digits in the darkness. “Running? At 1 am in the morning?”
“Well, not exactly. I’m a sick man, you do realize, Steve. The doctors have suggested against running.”
Steve knows he’s tired, because he’s appreciating Stark’s humor. He can’t quite bite down his smile. “That’s a lie.”
Tony hums softly as he leans his head down and Steve can feel his beard scratch his ear. “I was thinking of a different kind of exercise.” And then there’s a calloused hand rubbing soft circles at the hem of his boxers, and Tony isn’t as funny as he was before.
“Stark…” Steve growls, but it comes off far less threatening than he would have liked. Tony’s fingers are simultaneously erotic and deplorably unsatisfying, brushing against the valley of Steve’s hipbone, and nowhere near the coarser hair he could reach.
“If you close your eyes, I’ll let you call me by any pretty name that you like.”
Steve reaches his hand up, pulls on his oil stained undershirt and tugs. He could throw him off the bed, throw him out right now.
Tony smells like he’s been in drinking, it pools around him, just like Tony’s body heat. But there’s also something metallic, something hard and real and Tony and – and Steve wants to find it underneath all that damn booze. And maybe this is the only remedy that can get through to Tony. Hide one addiction with another.
His movement’s fast, like his decision as the bed creaks, and Tony’s on his back, eyes lingering, pupils blown and searching. Steve fights down that little bit of pride welling up in him, and thinks he might have finally won the upper hand in their little game.
Tony’s jaw slacks in surprise to say something but Steve cuts him off, his hand digging into the hip beneath him. “Tony, just shut the hell up.” And Steve makes sure he does by shoving his tongue as far down Tony’s throat as he can.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Steve tries not to notice the bloodshot eyes that slide under thick dark sunglasses the next morning. Steve shouldn’t be surprised. Then again, Steve knew none of his remedies were permanent but then he wonders why he even tried.
“You know, you were right.” Tony starts conversationally, leaning lazily on the kitchen counter. “Coffee doesn’t work as well as what you suggested.”
Steve is sore, and feels a little weighted and sluggish, and he can’t blame that on the alcohol off of Tony’s lips. That something is regret when waking up to an empty bed.
“I’m still looking into other methods, but I can still count on you for another early morning run, right?” Tony asks smirking as he fails to fully fix his tie and pockets his cell. “If the urge ever arises, I mean.” It must be one hell of an expression on Steve’s face because Jan’s eyebrow is arched near the top of her head and Hank has made himself smartly scarce.
And with a barely heard chuckle, Tony’s out on his way out the door, to one of his damnable meetings no doubt, and Steve is left with a splintered mug handle in his hand.
There’s only so much you can do for a friend like Tony Stark. So next time, Stark asks for a sober-up, Steve decides he was just gonna go with the smacking technique. Or perhaps a good crack in the jaw
The best part of waking up... lolz forever, oh Tony
Tony smells like he’s been in drinking, it pools around him, just like Tony’s body heat. But there’s also something metallic, something hard and real and Tony and – and Steve wants to find it underneath all that damn booze. And maybe this is the only remedy that can get through to Tony. Hide one addiction with another.
Yes, what this said. Heh, I like the push and pull of these two here.
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no subject
What else was the super serum really supposed to fix, Rogers?
Oh, man, I'd never considered that implication before. I'm surprised fandom hasn't explored that more.
I know tsukinofairie has done
Re: I know tsukinofairie has done
aha, found it!
My favored hangover cure: Yogurt
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