Title Meet Henry
Author![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
janedavitt
Web page Jane's Stories
Pairing Tony/Steve
Rating PG13
Length 2200 words
Spoilers/Warnings None
This is a sequel to Action Figure.
Tony's been rejected before. He never minds. It adds fizz to the foreplay, a sizzle to the sex -- because, of course, the rejection's never for real. He can guaran-fucking-tee that the pretty lips telling him sweetly he's an asshole with no chance, ever, of getting any, will be kiss-swollen and pouting as they part for his dick an hour later.
It's that much of a sure thing.
He's used to that. Likes it even.
Being pushed on his ass, knocked flying...that, not so much.
His ass is tender. Bruised. His chest, where Steve's hand had landed, isn't marked at all. He's studied it in the mirror, using the need to check for damage as a reason to avoid staring himself in the eye.
No marks. Still feels as tender as his ass.
He's annoyed. No, amused. No, hurt.
Make that confused.
The kiss had been a good one. B minus. Room for lots of improvement -- like both of them being naked -- and he wanted to coach Steve through using his teeth just a little now and then, mm, yeah...but not bad for a first kiss. Sweet. Hot. Like kissing a pineapple doused in rum and set alight.
He'd been prepared for some blushing, some 'I'm not that kind of superhero' shit, but Steve had known what he was doing once the shock had worn off, approximately a tenth of a second after Tony's tongue had met his.
He just didn't want to do it with Tony. Arrogant, plays the field Tony.
Well, fuck you too, Cap. Fuck you very much, you...
Tony runs out of righteous steam before he can come up with a single curse to apply to America's favorite hero. They'd slide off all that red, white, and blue like water off waxed paper anyway.
Steve's nice.
Tony glances down. He's rubbing his chest again, tracing a handprint that only exists in his imagination.
***
He decides to do an informal survey. The results will back him up, he'll present Steve with said results, Steve will grovel -- ooh. Groveling requires Steve being on his knees. There's so much he wants to do to a kneeling Steve, who takes orders with a calm acquiescence to authority that sends pleasurable shivers over Tony every time.
Clint's hanging around the kitchen, doing something to his bow and drinking chocolate milk, which is frankly bizarre. Tony's never bothered to riff on the bow and arrows being penis substitutes even when Clint's pissed him off. He tells himself it's because it's too boringly obvious for a witty guy like him, but he knows it's really because Thor would start swinging his hammer meaningfully and lightning strikes indoors are a pain in the ass to clean up after the fun part's over.
"Hey. On a scale of one to ten, what am I when it comes to being--"
"Ten."
"I didn't finish."
Clint shrugs one shoulder. "It's you. You're a ten at everything. Make it an eleven if you're motivated."
Tony stops himself from preening and then does it anyway. "Is that a compliment?"
"No." Flat and incurious. Impossible for anyone to interpret as Clint being coy, but Tony's not everyone.
"Are you flirting with me?" Tony asks cautiously, secretly hoping the answer's 'no' because things are soap opera enough around here without love triangles. People get crushes on him a lot. Occupational hazard of being, well, Tony Stark.
He'd always thought the Hulk was the only one who could laugh loudly enough to crack windows.
He calls Pepper and sneaks up on it. He can do subtle. "Pepper, if you had to describe me in three words, 'arrogant' wouldn't be one of them, would it?"
Not that Steve had come out and used that actual word either, so why it's stuck in Tony's head like an echo, he's not sure.
"No, of course not." She makes a thoughtful humming sound. "Infuriating. Insufferable. I'm having a hard time choosing between 'incorrigible' and 'annoying' for the third."
Wow. "But you love me? Despite the fact that you know a lot of insults starting with 'i' and that's one of my favorite letters."
God, why didn't she just go with 'pathetic' or 'needy'?
Pepper chuckles. "Don't you mean 'words'? Yes, of course I do. You're also intelligent, charming, and -- no, I think being charming goes in the other column."
"Why?" He's honestly confused here. Again. When did his life gets this complicated? "You want me to be an asshole instead?"
"Your version of charm has more insincerity than most."
"Again with the insults-starting-with-i."
"Are we done massaging your bruised...ego? Because I've got a meeting in three minutes."
Bruised, pause, ego? She knew. How the fuck did she---
"Who told you?"
Pepper laughs and hangs up like the heartless woman she is.
"Tony smash," he says through his teeth and throws his phone at the wall, misses, and watches it rebound off a cushion to land on the couch.
He missed the wall.
Not his day, his week, his year.
Oh God, did he really just earworm himself with a theme tune?
***
"Why was Tony crying and banging his head against the wall?" Natasha asks. "Not that I care, but if it was because of one of you, I'd like to know who to thank for the smile."
Everyone looks away from Steve. It's like there's a flashing neon arrow pointing at him, and Hawkeye's probably got one of those lying around somewhere.
Steve gets up and walks out of the kitchen with quiet dignity. It's not his fault, so he's got nothing and no one to apologize for or to. The snickering he can hear behind him is just rude.
He wanders by all the places Tony usually is to check up on the crying, though. It's a disturbing image even if he's mostly certain Natasha was exaggerating. Heck, maybe Tony put her up to it just to see what Steve would do, and here he is doing it.
Dancing to Tony's tune, as always.
Tony's in his workshop. Steve watches him from the hallway for a moment, not intending to stay once he's seen the complete lack of tears, but oddly unwilling to move on. Tony's tinkering with something small made of metal, wires sticking out here and there. Blue sparks erupt every few seconds, as if the thing's got hiccups. There's grease under Tony's fingernails and a scratch on the back of his hand. Steve wants those hands on him, even filthy like they are. They'd slide over his skin, confident, assured, knowing just where to touch him. Long, strong fingers sliding inside him, a taste of what would come a moment later... He wants to arch and shudder under Tony, pierced and filled, taken and held... Release and a moment of oblivion...
He could walk up to Tony and get that for the price of a few vaguely apologetic words and a smile. Spend fifteen minutes or so naked in Tony's room and find out what it's like to have Tony Stark focused on you for a brief space of time.
Then watch Tony get dressed, that focus fading, Tony looking forward to the next warm body, the next easy lay...
"I know you're there." Tony sounds subdued but when Steve turns to leave, his voice sharpens. "Get your ass in here, Cap. Something I want to show you."
Steeling himself to seem normal -- if that's even possible for him, for Tony, for any of them -- Steve does as he's told and sits across the worktable from Tony. "What is it?"
Tony pats the device affectionately. It's stopped spitting sparks and as Steve stares, the wires retract smoothly. It looks like a baseball and it's shiny. Most of what Tony makes has a glitter and a gleam to it.
Look at me, look at me. Aren't I sparkly? Don't you just want to touch me, play with me, make me hum?
"This? Ah, it's nothing. It's a thingummy, a whatsit. Or possibly it's an impossible-to-fool lie detector called, hmm, Henry. Depends on the day."
"It's Wednesday," Steve says drily.
"Then it's absolutely not a lie detector called Henry." The thing beeps, an honest to goodness beep, and glows red. Tony wiggles his eyebrows. "Or maybe it is."
"Or maybe it's programmed to beep and turn red when you touch it?"
"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened," Tony agrees cheerfully. "Why don't we test it out on you?"
He tosses it across the table and Steve catches it without thinking.
"Lie to it," Tony says.
It's heavier than it looks, warm from Tony's hand. Steve knows he's being played -- the serum didn't just pump up his muscles -- but he hates the way the air between them is full of question marks.
He'll play Tony's game. He just won't sleep with him. He doesn't want to. Not really.
"Why is it beeping?" It's going crazy, scarlet and noisy, vibrating in his hand.
Tony widens his eyes, all innocence. "Didn't I say it reads thoughts too? What were you thinking just then? Share with the class, Mr. Rogers."
If he squeezes it, he'll break it, but it's Tony's toy and so he places it carefully on the table.
"Um, in the interests of full disclosure, you don't actually have to be holding it for it to work now it's locked on you." Tony shrugs. "It's new and improved."
"Of course it is. You always have to do everything better than everyone else, don't you?"
"Well, there's not much point in doing it worse." Tony picks up a leftover piece of blue wire and twirls it between his fingers. "Get kissed lately?"
He doesn't look away when he answers. "Not that I remember."
Henry's practically hopping up and down at that one. Good. Maybe he'll break it. Overload its circuits, fry it until it's scrap metal.
"I kissed you, Steve."
"You put your mouth on mine. Not the same thing."
Henry goes quiet at that and so does Tony. "I kissed you. I meant it." He flicks the wire at Henry. "It'll tell you if I lie too, you know."
"Fine! You kissed me."
"And you kissed me back."
"I didn't--" Steve sighs as he's reprimanded by a machine. What's the use? "Yeah. I did. And to save you going all animal, vegetable, mineral on me, yes, I like it, yes, I wanted more than that, and no, it's not gonna happen, so don't pencil my name in on the timetable."
"What timetable? What the hell are you even talking about?" Tony smoothes back his unruly hair with an impatient shove. "I don't organize who I sleep with."
Henry blushes faintly pink and makes a chirping sound. Tony glares at it. "That was triplets! It was a special case."
Triplets? Oh God. He doesn't even want to think about that from a sanitary or a logistical point of view.
"I hope they tied your balls in knots when they found out."
"No, but the mattress was never the same after we'd...never mind. That was then and this is now." Tony leans across the table. "Old me. New me. Big difference. You got kissed by--"
"The new and improved version?" Steve pushes back his chair and stands. "Yeah. I still don't want to dip my bucket in the town well, thanks."
"That sounded really dirty. I'm impressed." Beep. Tony compresses his lips tightly enough that they turn white. "Okay, I lied. I'm pissed. Where do you get off being the poster boy for the morality police? Yes, my sex life is the stuff of legends -- and like most legends, there's been some editing over the years. I've slept with maybe sixty percent of the women I'm supposed to have fucked and when it comes to men, well, I'd need to be triplets. But recently, don't know if you've noticed, I've been busy saving the world. You live with me. See any hot babes knocking at the door round about bedtime?"
"When was the last time you had sex?" Steve asks, surprising himself.
Tony exhales. "The fact that I have to think about it should tell you all you need to know. Uh, a month ago? Five weeks?" Henry gives an indignant beep and Steve's about to curl his lip -- he can pull it off, he's checked in a mirror -- when Tony adds wearily, "Five months, okay? God. Way to make me look pathetic, the two of you."
Henry's silence has an approving quality to it. Five months? Five? That's...quite a while.
"Don't go thinking that I was saving myself for you," Tony says. "I've just been busy."
The beep's muted, as if there's some truth in that and Steve, who's been involved in a lot of the busy, gets why.
"I thought..." He bites down on his lip. "I didn't want to be a notch on the bedpost."
Tony rolls his eyes, then grins at him. "I don't think my bed even has posts. Want to come with me and see?"
Steve picks up Henry in his hand, weighing it. "No," he says deliberately and watches Henry turn crimson, turn scarlet, turn red, white, and blue.
Next part: Part three
Author
janedavittWeb page Jane's Stories
Pairing Tony/Steve
Rating PG13
Length 2200 words
Spoilers/Warnings None
This is a sequel to Action Figure.
Tony's been rejected before. He never minds. It adds fizz to the foreplay, a sizzle to the sex -- because, of course, the rejection's never for real. He can guaran-fucking-tee that the pretty lips telling him sweetly he's an asshole with no chance, ever, of getting any, will be kiss-swollen and pouting as they part for his dick an hour later.
It's that much of a sure thing.
He's used to that. Likes it even.
Being pushed on his ass, knocked flying...that, not so much.
His ass is tender. Bruised. His chest, where Steve's hand had landed, isn't marked at all. He's studied it in the mirror, using the need to check for damage as a reason to avoid staring himself in the eye.
No marks. Still feels as tender as his ass.
He's annoyed. No, amused. No, hurt.
Make that confused.
The kiss had been a good one. B minus. Room for lots of improvement -- like both of them being naked -- and he wanted to coach Steve through using his teeth just a little now and then, mm, yeah...but not bad for a first kiss. Sweet. Hot. Like kissing a pineapple doused in rum and set alight.
He'd been prepared for some blushing, some 'I'm not that kind of superhero' shit, but Steve had known what he was doing once the shock had worn off, approximately a tenth of a second after Tony's tongue had met his.
He just didn't want to do it with Tony. Arrogant, plays the field Tony.
Well, fuck you too, Cap. Fuck you very much, you...
Tony runs out of righteous steam before he can come up with a single curse to apply to America's favorite hero. They'd slide off all that red, white, and blue like water off waxed paper anyway.
Steve's nice.
Tony glances down. He's rubbing his chest again, tracing a handprint that only exists in his imagination.
***
He decides to do an informal survey. The results will back him up, he'll present Steve with said results, Steve will grovel -- ooh. Groveling requires Steve being on his knees. There's so much he wants to do to a kneeling Steve, who takes orders with a calm acquiescence to authority that sends pleasurable shivers over Tony every time.
Clint's hanging around the kitchen, doing something to his bow and drinking chocolate milk, which is frankly bizarre. Tony's never bothered to riff on the bow and arrows being penis substitutes even when Clint's pissed him off. He tells himself it's because it's too boringly obvious for a witty guy like him, but he knows it's really because Thor would start swinging his hammer meaningfully and lightning strikes indoors are a pain in the ass to clean up after the fun part's over.
"Hey. On a scale of one to ten, what am I when it comes to being--"
"Ten."
"I didn't finish."
Clint shrugs one shoulder. "It's you. You're a ten at everything. Make it an eleven if you're motivated."
Tony stops himself from preening and then does it anyway. "Is that a compliment?"
"No." Flat and incurious. Impossible for anyone to interpret as Clint being coy, but Tony's not everyone.
"Are you flirting with me?" Tony asks cautiously, secretly hoping the answer's 'no' because things are soap opera enough around here without love triangles. People get crushes on him a lot. Occupational hazard of being, well, Tony Stark.
He'd always thought the Hulk was the only one who could laugh loudly enough to crack windows.
He calls Pepper and sneaks up on it. He can do subtle. "Pepper, if you had to describe me in three words, 'arrogant' wouldn't be one of them, would it?"
Not that Steve had come out and used that actual word either, so why it's stuck in Tony's head like an echo, he's not sure.
"No, of course not." She makes a thoughtful humming sound. "Infuriating. Insufferable. I'm having a hard time choosing between 'incorrigible' and 'annoying' for the third."
Wow. "But you love me? Despite the fact that you know a lot of insults starting with 'i' and that's one of my favorite letters."
God, why didn't she just go with 'pathetic' or 'needy'?
Pepper chuckles. "Don't you mean 'words'? Yes, of course I do. You're also intelligent, charming, and -- no, I think being charming goes in the other column."
"Why?" He's honestly confused here. Again. When did his life gets this complicated? "You want me to be an asshole instead?"
"Your version of charm has more insincerity than most."
"Again with the insults-starting-with-i."
"Are we done massaging your bruised...ego? Because I've got a meeting in three minutes."
Bruised, pause, ego? She knew. How the fuck did she---
"Who told you?"
Pepper laughs and hangs up like the heartless woman she is.
"Tony smash," he says through his teeth and throws his phone at the wall, misses, and watches it rebound off a cushion to land on the couch.
He missed the wall.
Not his day, his week, his year.
Oh God, did he really just earworm himself with a theme tune?
***
"Why was Tony crying and banging his head against the wall?" Natasha asks. "Not that I care, but if it was because of one of you, I'd like to know who to thank for the smile."
Everyone looks away from Steve. It's like there's a flashing neon arrow pointing at him, and Hawkeye's probably got one of those lying around somewhere.
Steve gets up and walks out of the kitchen with quiet dignity. It's not his fault, so he's got nothing and no one to apologize for or to. The snickering he can hear behind him is just rude.
He wanders by all the places Tony usually is to check up on the crying, though. It's a disturbing image even if he's mostly certain Natasha was exaggerating. Heck, maybe Tony put her up to it just to see what Steve would do, and here he is doing it.
Dancing to Tony's tune, as always.
Tony's in his workshop. Steve watches him from the hallway for a moment, not intending to stay once he's seen the complete lack of tears, but oddly unwilling to move on. Tony's tinkering with something small made of metal, wires sticking out here and there. Blue sparks erupt every few seconds, as if the thing's got hiccups. There's grease under Tony's fingernails and a scratch on the back of his hand. Steve wants those hands on him, even filthy like they are. They'd slide over his skin, confident, assured, knowing just where to touch him. Long, strong fingers sliding inside him, a taste of what would come a moment later... He wants to arch and shudder under Tony, pierced and filled, taken and held... Release and a moment of oblivion...
He could walk up to Tony and get that for the price of a few vaguely apologetic words and a smile. Spend fifteen minutes or so naked in Tony's room and find out what it's like to have Tony Stark focused on you for a brief space of time.
Then watch Tony get dressed, that focus fading, Tony looking forward to the next warm body, the next easy lay...
"I know you're there." Tony sounds subdued but when Steve turns to leave, his voice sharpens. "Get your ass in here, Cap. Something I want to show you."
Steeling himself to seem normal -- if that's even possible for him, for Tony, for any of them -- Steve does as he's told and sits across the worktable from Tony. "What is it?"
Tony pats the device affectionately. It's stopped spitting sparks and as Steve stares, the wires retract smoothly. It looks like a baseball and it's shiny. Most of what Tony makes has a glitter and a gleam to it.
Look at me, look at me. Aren't I sparkly? Don't you just want to touch me, play with me, make me hum?
"This? Ah, it's nothing. It's a thingummy, a whatsit. Or possibly it's an impossible-to-fool lie detector called, hmm, Henry. Depends on the day."
"It's Wednesday," Steve says drily.
"Then it's absolutely not a lie detector called Henry." The thing beeps, an honest to goodness beep, and glows red. Tony wiggles his eyebrows. "Or maybe it is."
"Or maybe it's programmed to beep and turn red when you touch it?"
"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened," Tony agrees cheerfully. "Why don't we test it out on you?"
He tosses it across the table and Steve catches it without thinking.
"Lie to it," Tony says.
It's heavier than it looks, warm from Tony's hand. Steve knows he's being played -- the serum didn't just pump up his muscles -- but he hates the way the air between them is full of question marks.
He'll play Tony's game. He just won't sleep with him. He doesn't want to. Not really.
"Why is it beeping?" It's going crazy, scarlet and noisy, vibrating in his hand.
Tony widens his eyes, all innocence. "Didn't I say it reads thoughts too? What were you thinking just then? Share with the class, Mr. Rogers."
If he squeezes it, he'll break it, but it's Tony's toy and so he places it carefully on the table.
"Um, in the interests of full disclosure, you don't actually have to be holding it for it to work now it's locked on you." Tony shrugs. "It's new and improved."
"Of course it is. You always have to do everything better than everyone else, don't you?"
"Well, there's not much point in doing it worse." Tony picks up a leftover piece of blue wire and twirls it between his fingers. "Get kissed lately?"
He doesn't look away when he answers. "Not that I remember."
Henry's practically hopping up and down at that one. Good. Maybe he'll break it. Overload its circuits, fry it until it's scrap metal.
"I kissed you, Steve."
"You put your mouth on mine. Not the same thing."
Henry goes quiet at that and so does Tony. "I kissed you. I meant it." He flicks the wire at Henry. "It'll tell you if I lie too, you know."
"Fine! You kissed me."
"And you kissed me back."
"I didn't--" Steve sighs as he's reprimanded by a machine. What's the use? "Yeah. I did. And to save you going all animal, vegetable, mineral on me, yes, I like it, yes, I wanted more than that, and no, it's not gonna happen, so don't pencil my name in on the timetable."
"What timetable? What the hell are you even talking about?" Tony smoothes back his unruly hair with an impatient shove. "I don't organize who I sleep with."
Henry blushes faintly pink and makes a chirping sound. Tony glares at it. "That was triplets! It was a special case."
Triplets? Oh God. He doesn't even want to think about that from a sanitary or a logistical point of view.
"I hope they tied your balls in knots when they found out."
"No, but the mattress was never the same after we'd...never mind. That was then and this is now." Tony leans across the table. "Old me. New me. Big difference. You got kissed by--"
"The new and improved version?" Steve pushes back his chair and stands. "Yeah. I still don't want to dip my bucket in the town well, thanks."
"That sounded really dirty. I'm impressed." Beep. Tony compresses his lips tightly enough that they turn white. "Okay, I lied. I'm pissed. Where do you get off being the poster boy for the morality police? Yes, my sex life is the stuff of legends -- and like most legends, there's been some editing over the years. I've slept with maybe sixty percent of the women I'm supposed to have fucked and when it comes to men, well, I'd need to be triplets. But recently, don't know if you've noticed, I've been busy saving the world. You live with me. See any hot babes knocking at the door round about bedtime?"
"When was the last time you had sex?" Steve asks, surprising himself.
Tony exhales. "The fact that I have to think about it should tell you all you need to know. Uh, a month ago? Five weeks?" Henry gives an indignant beep and Steve's about to curl his lip -- he can pull it off, he's checked in a mirror -- when Tony adds wearily, "Five months, okay? God. Way to make me look pathetic, the two of you."
Henry's silence has an approving quality to it. Five months? Five? That's...quite a while.
"Don't go thinking that I was saving myself for you," Tony says. "I've just been busy."
The beep's muted, as if there's some truth in that and Steve, who's been involved in a lot of the busy, gets why.
"I thought..." He bites down on his lip. "I didn't want to be a notch on the bedpost."
Tony rolls his eyes, then grins at him. "I don't think my bed even has posts. Want to come with me and see?"
Steve picks up Henry in his hand, weighing it. "No," he says deliberately and watches Henry turn crimson, turn scarlet, turn red, white, and blue.
Next part: Part three
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