I am reminded that immediately after seeing Wonder Woman, I really wanted to write a fic with her and Steve in some way, shippy or otherwise. I mean, we know Diana is canonically bi, so we can even have a lovely threesome with Peggy, or they can just be friends, or she and Peggy can be together and Steve can sigh after them both. There are just so many possibilities. But I think she’d be good for him. The fact that she chooses love, that she chooses hope, I think that would be really good for Steve. He’s already a jaded little cuss even before he joins the army, and then going in and having to see what war has done to Bucky, to his men, I think the light Diana could show him would be something he’d really latch onto, a way of looking at the world that wasn’t completely hopeless or angry. Imagine what good it would’ve done him coming out of the ice, to have a little of that hope, especially if it were magnified by her finding him again.
“I heard there was a man in the ice.”
“Ma’am, who are you? You can’t just–”
Fury: “Yes, she can.”
Steve: “Diana?”
(And then likemymask said: To derail a bit, would that mean Tony would have Diana as another pseudo-aunt like Peggy? Cause then that first meeting between Cap and Iron Man would have gone a lot different in Avengers.
(How much do you wanna bet that Steve went in just as angry/resentful of Tony as Tony went in about “the guy my dad never shut up about” due to the Romanoff Report on Tony from IM2/all the vids of Tony flipping off a Senate subcommittee meeting…which probs would have made Steve like him, come to think of it.)
(Tony would have grown up hearing about too-stubborn-to-die, rules-are-for-people-not-me punk Steve, not the Captain up on Howard’s pedestal and felt good about knowing that even the small can win. Steve would have heard about baby Anthony, so smart and so alone, being constantly compared to a man who doesn’t really exist and been reminded of how everyone likes to forget tinyfighter!Steve existed))
(Just gonna bump this to another ask thread so it doesn’t get too long.)
This could go two ways, and to get to either direction, I think the starting path is relatively the same:
It’s implied in the DCU that Diana kind of fades into the ether and keeps a lower profile. This might be for many reasons, both external and internal. She was only involved in WWI for a very short time, and she was a lady to boot, so it’s very possible that command did not want it getting out that some female and some random spy saved them from a gas bombing. I think her involvement in WWII would then also be very under-the-radar. She’s living in France in modern-day DCU, so maybe moved there after WWI, and maybe she even helped rebuild that little town that was destroyed by the gas. Following that, she’d become a member of the French Resistance when Germany invaded. But it strikes me that she’s not terribly impressed by the men who wage war, and so any involvement she has with the Commandos and any of the Allied armies is on her terms and not under the umbrella of the military.
Now comes the split:
Way 1) THE NO ROMANCE WITH PEGGY WAY: For me, this means Diana is very much her own agent and likely disappears again after WWII. She may have fond feelings for the remaining Commandos and Howard Stark, but she’s not necessarily directly involved with them and because she’s not an agent of the Allies, she’s not going to go back to headquarters to keep fighting the war. This means she’d essentially (and probably purposefully, given that she doesn’t age) let the relationships fade away and only turn up when she found out Steve had been recovered. So in that scenario, no Aunt Diana, although potentially stories about her awesomeness would get passed on to Tony.
Way 2) THE ROMANCE WITH PEGGY WAY: In this, we definitely have Awesome Aunt Diana alongside Awesome Aunt Peggy, and given that we know how Diana feels about babies, I can’t imagine her not looking in on Tony even if Peggy is busy with running SHIELD. I feel like Diana’s presence in the Stark household would definitely soften many things, not least of all Howard, and her presence would also give Tony a second ally, an ally who is very invested in making sure Tony has a happy childhood and that he grows up to be a good man (he is already, but he’d be himself with less of that caustic “Fuck you” attitude). I think then it would go much like you describe, with less vitriol from Tony and Diana quietly in the background telling Steve everything Tony’s been through that he might not have known otherwise.
“What. Is that?”
Steve ignored Bucky and hauled the vase deeper into the shop, heaving it up with all his might and nearly pissing himself when the whole thing threatened to topple off the counter. It would’ve killed him if the damn thing broke now, after he’d hauled it all the way over with his own two skinny arms.
“Steve. What is that?”
“It’s a pack of PBR.” Steve groused, stepping back to stare at the massive bouquet. Even just seeing it again, only slightly worse for wear for being pressed against his face, made him grin like a dope.
“Why the hell would you bring this here? Why did you even buy this thing? Wait, have you got someone I don’t know about? Someone on the side? Stevie, we promised we’d share.”
“I don’t have someone on the side. I told you I was going to say hi to the new florist next door.”
“And he gave you half his shop?”
“I…I might’ve made an impulse buy.”
Bucky turned from the desk where he did the books, and raised one, very loud eyebrow at Steve. “How big of an impulse was this?”
“Uh…um, fifteen.”
“For that whole thing.” Bucky looked nonplussed.
“Fifteen. Plus a hundred.”
“A hundred and fifteen dollars, Stevie!”
“Shut it. I know.”
“A hundred and fifteen dollars for a bouquet that doesn’t even match the decor, Stevie?” Bucky gestured dramatically to the wrought iron gate at the front of the shop, the deep red walls and the diamond black-and-white floor tiles. “This is a tattoo parlor. What were you thinking?”
“You didn’t see the florist, Bucky.”
“Bullshit, you big softie.”
“I’m tellin’ you. Walk over there and say hi before you judge me.”
Bucky stood right up from his seat, and Steve had known him long enough to know he was going to do just that. “I’m going to go over there and say hi. Like you said. And when I get back, you’re gonna rub my feet for an hour because there’s no way whoever this is could be worth a hundred and fifteen dollars.”
“What do I get if I’m right?”
“You ain’t gonna be right,” Bucky tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
“A blowjob then?” Steve could just see Bucky flipping him off.
Ten minutes later, the sound of the shop bell roused Steve from his sketchpad. He laughed so hard he nearly passed out when he saw Bucky carrying not one, but two massive bouquets.No worries. I took a dinner break. And as some of my long-time followers can tell you, sometimes I take forever to get to an ask.
This hearkens to the flowershop/tattoo dichotomy for me, and I always love it when people assign Tony as the florist and Steve as the tattooist. I always want to push it a little further and say that Tony has a bit of plant magic in him, just enough that plants flourish under his care and the herbal tinctures and concoctions and teas he makes from them are always just a little more potent, and there’s something about them. Some ineffable thing.
Steve’s had Tony’s lavender tea. The first time he drank it, he said it tasted like laying on the grass on the first warm day of spring, and Tony laughed and said that was silly. The second time he had it, he said it was like helping his mom make cookies around Christmas time. Every time it tastes a little different to him, and he can never describe what that taste is like without going to some bizarre fuzzy metaphor.
Tony cultivates plants with trimmed stamens for Steve so that there’s never any pollen to worry about. They still produce nectar, so they still smell sweet and fresh, and Steve always asks him how he does it. He just shrugs a little and says he’s always had a knack.
His shop is light and green and sunshine and it always smells amazing, like earth and life, even in the dead of winter. He brews up tea after tea for the Rogers, anything to ease mother and son’s persistent coughing, aching ears, wheezing lungs. Mrs. Rogers swears she’s never seen anything like it in all her years as a nurse, watches with all the intent of a scientist making hypotheses as Tony makes the tinctures for her again and again, but she can never figure out just why his plants would be more potent than others, just why his teas and herbs have such a profound effect where others are mediocre at best.LOLOLOL I love this. I’m really curious about the Avengers as benders. I would agree with Tony as an earth bender, but I’m super intrigued by your assigning Steve to air. I would’ve pegged him as fire in a heartbeat. Nat water, Bruce and Clint non-benders, Thor wind, Wanda fire, Pietro air, Rhodey earth as well, Sam as air. I’m torn as whether I’d put Bucky as water or a non-bender.
I know Thor is the god of thunder, but that boy is an airbender and he’ll survive without lightning.
“Peggy, you mind if I show your friend around the horses?”
Peggy’s grin grows even wider and she winks and Steve blushes furiously. “Of course, Tony. Show him around all you want.”
She gives Steve a hard shove and off they go and then Steve’s really in trouble because now he has to pretend he has no idea what he’s doing around horses and he’s not sure he can fake it, but as it turns out, it’s been a long ass time since he sat in an English saddle and it’s the worst. He just wants to stand up in the stirrups the way he does for racing, and that sends him tumbling and Tony has a tiny heart-attack because the cute clueless blond just took a tumble at a plain walk.
“Oh my god, are you okay?”
Steve is more than okay. Steve is challenged. So he shoves Tony off and leaps right back up in that saddle, and now that he knows better, he changes his carriage and it’s not great, he can tell, but the horse suddenly realizes that he’s seating a rider who knows what he’s doing. Tony starts freaking out when Steve snatches the lead rein away and then sets off at a respectable trot that graduates into a canter. By the time Steve circles back around to Tony he’s adjusted his posture to get a smoother ride and he’s looking pretty proud of himself. Then he sees Tony’s face.
“I’m guessing you know the difference between English and Western riding after all.”
“Maybe a little,” Steve confesses, blushing fiercely and feeling a bit cowed.
“So what do you ride?”
“Neither. I’m a jockey.”
Tony’s skeptical irritation smooths away and he says, “That explains so much.”
“My horse’s name really is Rembrandt. You want to meet him? I’d let you ride him.”
“Is he here?”
“No, he’s back at my place.”
Tony squints at Steve for a long moment and then says, “Is Rembrandt your penis, because that sounded like a come on.”
Peggy, who’s just wandered over, just about dies laughing.Listen, give me Peggy Carter on a horse. Oh my god, the very thought. I’m weak in the knees. For that matter, Haley Atwell on a horse. Jeezums, be still my beating heart.
On to the AU!
Tony would totally be a great equestrian. It fits his background so well, such a prim and proper thing for the son of a rich business empire. I picture him riding English style, but having always secretly envied Western style riders because there’s something about cowboys that makes him a little hot and bothered. Can you imagine him in those riding pants? Tony’s perfect bubble butt and the pants.
And he’s damn good at riding, too. He’s small enough, but strong enough, and he loves his horse. He loves tech, but he also spends his off days designing riding equipment and he’s in the stables every day to ride and care for Excelsior, his chestnut gelding.
And then there’s city boy Steve who thinks that the only place horses ought to be is far away from him, but he loves Peggy, even if it didn’t work out between them romantically, and he’ll literally bend over backwards for her. So he puts up with her “dumb overgrown carrot-eating dogs” because she begs him to come and see her perform, and then he sees this amazing guy and his horse jumping the fences and something in him just lurches and he’s not the only one.
Once Tony clears the end of the track and is waiting for his scoring announcement, he notices a little guy standing off to the side with Peggy Carter. His first thought is “new competition” and his second thought is “yes please.” He dismounts and trots Excelsior over because he’s gonna make a good impression on this amazing little jockey and clearly he is because jockey looks like he’s about to swallow his tongue.
“You here with Peggy? You in one of the events?”
“I, uh, yeah. Yeah. Yes I am. I am in an event.”
And Peggy, who’s just walked up behind him, grins and knows she’s going to have fun. “Tony, lovely to see you. This is my friend Steve. He loves horses and racing.”
“Oh? Nice to meet you, Steve. What event are you entered in?”
“I’m…I’m in a horse event. With horses.”
“He runs the barrels,” Peggy supplies and Steve resists the urge to turn and give her a look because what the hell does that even mean?
“Yep,” he says instead. “Barrels.”
“Ooh, a Western rider,” Tony says, and he has a niggling suspicion, but Peggy looks like the cat who got the canary and Steve is clearly trying hard, so he goes with it a little while longer. “I’d love to meet your horse.”
“Right. My horse. My horse who is named…uh, Rembrandt.”
“Like the toothpaste?”
“Like the artist.”
“So can I meet him?”
“Sure he’s…he’s right over there.” Steve gestures at a horse about twenty feet away hitched to the fence, and Tony resists the urge to giggle, because that horse is done up in an English saddle, and is a mare, and he knows her, because she belongs to Carol Danvers. But he nods and turns back to Steve with the biggest eyes.
“Will you show me her?”
And Steve is doomed, because he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna pretend this dumb overgrown carrot-eating dog is his and he’s gonna try and act like he loves it all so he can impress Tony. So he leads Tony and Excelsior over and starts attempting to pet Marvel, which goes about as well as Tony expected, given that Marvel is notoriously mischievous. She’s got Steve’s hair in her mouth in two seconds flat and in no time, Steve’s sporting a horse-slobber hairdo.
It only gets better when Carol shows up and says, “Tony? Why is this man molesting my horse?”
Tony can’t keep it together at this point anymore and he bursts out laughing and Steve is mortified.
“You were so cute, though, trying to look like you knew what you were talking about. Do you even know the difference between English and Western riding?”
“…The hats?”
Tony snorts and mumbles, “I guess you’re not wrong,” and then he says, “You wanna try riding Excelsior? I’ll lead you around a little.”
And Steve steels himself, because for this amazing guy named Tony, apparently he’s going to ride a dumb overgrown carrot-eating dog.I’m gonna call this the cutest AU idea ever. Calling it. Nothing will ever be cuter. I love this for multiple reasons. Steve is fair-skinned, so if he’s gonna be working a coffee cart out in the park, he’s gonna be slathered in sunscreen and wearing a big dorky hat in the summer, and in winter, he’s gonna be bundled up in the fattest parka you can imagine with a scarf wrapped tight around his neck and a thick hat and ear muffs and ginormous mittens with those flippy bits over the fingers and he’s just gonna look dorky and beautiful, and then he’s going to be even dorkier because he can never manage to say anything suave to the Skating Cutie.
“Just plain black, please,” says Skating Cutie.
“Plain?” says Steve. “Plain, like nothing in it?”
“Uh-huh,” Skating Cutie says with a smirk.
“That’s what plain means.”
“Oh. Oh right. Right. Plain black.”
Or “Can I get an Americano?”
“You mean an a America-yes?”
“What?”
“What?”
“No, I asked you.”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just…one Americano. Coming right up.”
And Steve blushes so prettily, and he’s already red-cheeked anyway because that’s just how his skin works with heat or cold or anything, but it gets worse when Skating Cutie stops by. And then, oh god, summer’s the worst, because Skating Cutie wears crop tops and Steve really didn’t need to be thinking about Skating Cuties nice abs or the little happy trail beneath his belly button or his booty in those shorts.
And his dog! Or maybe not his dog? But the dog! Is the biggest, boofiest, sweetest dog Steve’s ever met, and so well-behaved too. She just sits there and watches the two of them while Steve tries to be suave and smooth, and then sometimes–he swears she does this on purpose–she will somehow get behind the cart and wrap her leash around his legs and then there’s nothing for it but to get nose to nose with Skating Cutie while he tries to untangle himself and he’s dying. He’s literally dying with the weight of this crush.
It’s six months of torture before Skating Cutie finally says, “So, are you ever actually gonna ask me out or what?”
And all Steve can manages is, “I mean, you, I , we, there’s a, you’re interested?”
“Name’s Tony. You free tonight?”This is an awesome idea. Especially if Tony starts doing strange Cryptid things on purpose just to mess with them even more. “The hall lights were out, but I swear I saw eyes gleaming down there.” “Maybe it’s a cat?” “A cat? Occupies 53C? Dude. Besides, the eyes were human height. Tiny human, but still human.”
“Did…did something weird happen with your shoes?” “How did you know?” “Well, um, are these yours?” “My Manolos!” “I don’t know how they wound up in my apartment.” “Do you think we’re haunted?” “The ghost of 53C.” “No way it’s a ghost. I’ve heard noises. Solid noises.” “Ghosts make noises.” “You’re all idiots.”
“Okay. It’s definitely a person. Or alive. I heard the toilet flush.” “How is that proof?” “Why the hell would a ghost need a toilet?” “Moaning Myrtle.” “So you’re saying 53C is a toilet ghost?” “…Okay, you’re right. We’re all idiots.”
“Hey, were…were those footprints there before?” “What foot oh my god! What the… Are these… swamp man shaped?” “Or they’re swimming flippers.” “So 53C is either swamp man or a professional diver.” “We live in a landlocked state.” “Are these…is this paint?” “Doubt it. Even if it’s swamp man, Fury would still kill whoever it is over the damages.” “So it’s…” “Flour. Vacuumable.” “So swamp man’s a baker.”
“Did you hear the creepy moaning last night?” “I thought Clint had another bout of food poisoning.” “No, he was out with me.” “So, 53C? Werewolf?” “Wasn’t a full moon.” “I thought I saw something in the hall the other day. Looked small and grubby.” “Hmm…ghoul?”
Tony keeps it up for four months until one day he literally trips into a trap laid by Bucky and Clint. “Hah!” Caught up in a net, Tony glares down at them. He’s covered in so much machine grease that at first they genuinely think he is some sort of creature. It’s only when they cut him down that they manage to make sense of his limbs.
“Why would you do that to us?”
“A guy needs a hobby. Plus, Nat thought it was hilarious.”
“She knew?!?”
“I always know.”
“GAH!”Hnnnng Tony Stark and children! YESSSS!
Tony’s in his incognito look (yes those sunglasses and that hat and that sweatshirt) and he’s mostly passing because no one would honestly expect Tony Stark to actually be wandering around in a convention with no guards or anything, but that means he’s harder to spot for the Avengers too. So when he disappears, well that… that’s an “oh shit” moment.
Tony saw the kid tucked in a corner out of the flow of the crowd, big eyes round and wet but not crying, not yet. That reminded him of…things he’d rather forget. So he approached slowly and crouched down.
“Hey little guy. Are you okay?”
The kid sniffled.
“Do you know where your mommy is? Your daddy? Your…sibling?”
“No.” Snot-voice. The most dignified of voices.
“Do you want me to help you find them?”
“Stranger.”
“Stranger danger. That’s smart. Hmm… Well, let me let you in on a secret.” Tony pulled off the glasses, raised the bill of his cap, and prayed the kid knew who he was.
“I…Iron Man?”
“Uh huh. I’m here on a secret mission to help people. And I’m going to help you. But only if you want help.”
The kid looked downcast, but then he brightened a little. “I…I can help?”
“You bet you can.”
So Tony took the kid on a grand adventure, walking him through the artists’ displays and down to some of the panel doors, but they don’t manage to spot his parents. In the meantime, Tony invents all sorts of missions to keep the kid busy. (”I’m looking for Hydra agents. They’re littering. If you see any trash, you let me know and we’ll pick it up.” “I’ve heard that the French fries have been laced with a special serum that might make monsters. We have to test the fries to make sure they’re safe.”) Tony finally manages to wend his way to a help-desk/lost-and-found type deal and gets the staff on it. In the meantime, he plays with his new friend (Joshua) using some of the baubles he picked up from the artists’ alley.
Twenty minutes later, a panicked Steve comes running followed closely by a harried looking woman. “Joshua!” “Tony!” “Ix-nay on the Ony-tay,” Tony whispers, but Steve’s about as subtle as a red-blue-and-white painted target, which he is. So after getting inundated with people wanting selfies, con security manages to herd them out a side entrance along with Joshua and his mom. (”I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. He really wanted to come to see the artists and I really…well, I’m sorry. I try and–” “It’s okay. He’s a good kid. You…you’re here alone?” “His dad’s not in the picture.” “Oh, well. Um. Here. Here’s my card. I’d like…let me know. I’d like to send him a little something.”)
Joshua’s mom suddenly finds her student loans paid in full, Joshua’s daycare fees taken care of for the next year and a whole set of Avengers goodies for his room.
After that, Tony starts looking more into children’s charities. Ways he can help out people like Joshua’s mom. He definitely does the orphan thing.
(Oh no. Oh no. I have sad ideas about this. Sad ahoy!)
Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never heard Natasha Romanov yell ever. Not in the five years of knowing her. Not when the world was ending or when a villain was getting away or when the quinjet was about to crash. At most, Natasha would give a slightly louder grunt or command. Not yelling. So when she slammed her coffee cup down on the kitchen table and shouted, “ENOUGH!” they both shut the hell up. And waited. In her bathrobe, shoulders hunched, hot coffee splattered over her hands and the table, she looked less like an assassin and more like a sitcom housewife. And yet there was something in the line of her body, the way her hair fell down to curtain her eyes, that made everyone in the kitchen suddenly and immensely afraid to breathe.
“You,” she hissed finally, pointing at Tony. “You are a coward. You have someone, someone you love. He’s standing right there. And he loves you, too. And all you can do is doubt him and push him away because you’re afraid.” She spits the word like a curse.
“And you!” Steve flinched as she rounded on him. “You hide everything from everyone. You stare at us and keep it in and keep it in and keep it in until it explodes with monumental stupidity.” It was like being slapped in the face, the way she spat her words at him. “You are lucky to have each other, so why don’t you grow up and act like it.”
It would have been better if she’d stomped out, but she was silent as an owl sweeping away, and in her wake, Tony and Steve felt smaller, younger, and stupider than they’d felt in a long time. Even Clint, sitting on a bar stool and uninvolved with the argument, felt himself shrinking inward. After a painful silence which stretched so long Tony thought he’d seen the morning shadows move, Clint rose and poured out a coffee refill and a fresh mug. “She’s never told me much about it. Just enough that I know there was someone. Someone she cared about. And she lost them. Never got to tell them.”
He left with the mugs, and Tony and Steve remained, cowed and ashamed.
“I do love you, Steve. I…I know I don’t say it enough.”
“Shut up,” Steve hissed, stepping in close to sweep Tony into a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
(Nat is never as worried about Sam and Bucky. Their words are like gentle friendly elbowing, good-natured and carefully meted. When one or the other is hurting, they’re better about protecting each other, not digging in with precision strikes. They’re still annoying as hell, though, and she separates them on the quinjet, because otherwise it’s like listening to toddlers argue in the back seat.)
This dovetails nicely with that last ask about Bucky and cooking. (Technically, my fic One Date Wonder could fit in with this too. Hmmm…)
But just imagine. The cooking class starts out super easy. It was advertised for beginners, college kids, twenty-somethings who just never got around to learning how to cook. And then there’s Tony at the back who is thirty-coughs-into-his-hand-so-you-can’t-hear-the-rest. And they do start easy. Pancakes. Who can fuck up pancakes? Tony Stark apparently, if the black column of smoke coming from his griddle is any indication. They’re supposed to be paired up for the cooking class, but there’s an odd number and so Tony’s just working on his own, freaking out next to Bucky and Steve’s cooking station. And Bucky and Steve have military training, so of course they step in. Bucky’s got the fire extinguisher and Steve’s not doing too bad a job of comforting Tony. “You want to help us out? You can watch how we do it and maybe that’ll help you.” So Tony does, and he manages to make three only moderately blackened pancakes (”You’ve got the heat too high, you’ve got to turn it down”) and the night seems like an okay success.
Until next week when they try pesto. “Tony, there’s literally no heat on the sauce. You just blend it. How did you manage to burn the basil.” “Aren’t you supposed to cook it first? To make it safe?” “Oh my god, you helpless adorable man.” Tony squeaks and Steve claps a hand to his mouth. “I’m so sorry. That was totally inappropriate.” And Bucky is just standing back watching and shaking his head because his boyfriend is freaking hopeless. Later on, Steve apologizes and Bucky just shakes his head some more. “No. He is adorable. But he might not be up for poly, so maybe just back down a little.”
The week after that is homemade pizza (”Not as difficult as you think!” proclaims the teacher, and Tony whimpers.) Within ten minutes, Tony’s pizza dough has somehow expanded and is in the process of swallowing his entire work table. “What do we do?” Steve whispers, horrified. “Um, run? That thing looks like it might be sentient.” The teacher comes over and somehow manages to wrangle Tony’s dough away, but by that time it’s too late, so he forlornly ends up at Steve and Bucky’s table again, watching as they punch down their dough and sauce it. Later that night, Bucky says, “No one can possibly be this bad at cooking. It’s gotta be…like an act, right? He must be faking it. Do you think he’s flirting with us?” “Well, he did blush very prettily when I called him adorable.”
So the week after that, when Tony manages to crack shells from ever egg straight into his omelet, Bucky puts him out of his misery and says, “Do you want to go out to dinner with us after this? Since you can’t eat your omelet. And since you’re cute.”
It’s only after they’ve moved in together several months later that Tony’s terrible cooking wasn’t a haphazard flirting method. He really was just that bad at cooking.*narrows eyes* I think one of those Peppers was supposed to be a Nat. But let’s go!
See the really fun thing with this is they switch up every now and then. Nat will hop over to Tony’s arm and Pepper will grab Steve’s and then the media really has a time of it: Tony Stark’s Redhead Addiction. Steve Rogers Steals the CEO, Natasha Romanov: Actual Black Widow? Pepper Potts: Use ‘Em and Lose ‘Em Cougar. Tony thinks the headlines are fucking hilarious, as does Nat. Pepper tolerates them but rarely comments because she’s classy like that. Steve, of course, is mortified to be accused of essentially trading girlfriends, but he tolerates the madness because it amuses Tony and Nat so much.
He never expected to get into the madness himself. “American as Apple Pie? They do know you’re Russian, right?”
“Since when have the tabloids ever cared about accuracy.”
“We need a different headline.”
“Oh? How far do you want to push it?”
“Why do you ask?”
…
“Public Indecency: Romanogers Frisky on the Red Carpet. Well,” Tony wolf-whistles and Steve blushes redder, “I confess I wasn’t expecting Steve to be the one to get exposed.”
“I don’t even know how she got my shirt off.”
Nat, sitting placidly in Pepper’s lap, smiles slyly. “Trade secret.”
“I do have a beef though,” Tony says. “How come you guys get a cute celebrity nickname. Why don’t we have one of those Pep?”
“Because we’re not really dating?”
“As far as the media knows.”
…
Tony frames the next cover in the entertainment room: Po-rk: Tony Stark and Virginia Potts Hot Sex Tape Revealed.
“You are the most incorrigible boyfriend,” Steve groans, biting Tony gently on the shoulder.
“You love it.”Well, somebody’s gotta play with the bots, and Tony’s over there with magnifying goggles and a soldering iron, so Bucky might as well do it. Plus the bots are easy and broken like him. They don’t mind if he doesn’t talk much or if he suddenly goes still and vacant for long periods of time. They understand what defragmenting is. So of course Bucky plays with the bots. What he doesn’t expect is to look up from tossing a ball to Bucky only to find Tony right there staring down at him with an inscrutable look.
“You and I. We’re going out. To Italian. Right now. You hungry? I’m hungry. Starving. Let me buy you dinner. And then ice cream after. And then a walk in the park.”
“Tony, what–”
“Great, it’s decided. Get up. You wanna take the Tesla?”
“I don’t–”
“You’re right. The Audi is sexier.”
Bucky doesn’t quite know how to get past Tony’s rapid-fire speaking and interrupting, so he tries a one-word question: “Dinner?”
“Thought you’d never ask. Come on, Lover boy.”Aw, I do like those headcanons where Bucky picks up cooking as a way to cope. I especially think he’d be good at baking because sniper=precision + high-level math, so I think he’d have a really good, intuitive understanding of how to edit recipes and alter them to meet his needs. So I think not only would he make Tony some delicious Mom’s-recipe-pasta, but he’d top it off with some deliciously fancy Italian meringue or something similarly difficult and impressive.
(Don’t tell me meringue’s easy. I’ve fucked up meringue too often to find it easy. For me, meringue is hell.)
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timeasmymeasure
