#marvelbingo2019

Loki jumped at the contact, having been lost in his own thoughts, “Oh, Y/N, you startled me.” He hadn’t meant to get lost in his head, but seeing the Hulk again, so close and in the last place he thought he would be, left him with some bad memories. The only solace he had was knowing that his brother now knows exactly what he went through back in New York.

You watched his face as he spoke, dragging your eyes along the outline of his smooth jaw and resting on his eyes. His brow was scrunched up, and his eyes had a far off look in them. “That’s usually not an easy thing to do.” You moved around him, putting your chin on his chest and staring into his eyes. “Is something wrong? You’re not being your usual self.”

“I’m fine, love. I just have some things on my mind.” He looked at you, finally, and smirked. It was a look you knew well, but had never been on the receiving end of. He was lying to you. “Why don’t we go back to the party?”

If you were any other person you might have let it go, but he should know you better than that. You were the reason he had gotten into your father’s good graces so quickly after arriving on the planet. Your father, the Grandmaster, was an easy target for someone as sly as Loki. He'd fallen for everything Loki’s silver tongue would say to him, especially when they were compliments. Topaz, however, was less inclined to have Loki around. She would rather have thrown him into the dungeons with the other gladiators or just kill him on the spot.

That’s where you came in. You were usually the tie-breaker between the two, even if your opinion wasn't what mattered. Your father knew what he wanted to do, nothing would change his mind. Just another one of the games he liked to play.

Ever your father's daughter, you liked him, mostly his looks. He was one of the more attractive prisoners who were brought to the palace. Dark hair and green eyes had always been your weakness, and he was just so tantalizing. You had been getting bored with the other playthings you had, and if the things he was saying to your father were any indication, you could only imagine what else he could do with his tongue.

So, you asked your father if you could have him.

It didn’t take much for him to say yes, a pout here and a few battings of eyelashes there, and he was putty in your hands. That night, Loki confirmed your suspicions about how good his tongue was.

You hadn’t meant to fall for him at the time, but you had and he seemed to have fallen for you as well. It was because of the relationship you had formed with him that you knew he was lying.

“I have a better idea,” you said as you started to kiss up his neck. You sucked on the crook of his neck and smirked as you heard him let out a small moan. After leaving a satisfying mark, you trailed kisses up to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. “Why don’t we go back to my room and have a little fun?”

Loki groaned and looked over his shoulder at the room. While your father knew what you and Loki did together, once you two had become an item he started acting more protective of you. You rolled your eyes and started to run your hands down Loki’s chest before cupping his half hard member. You giggled as he jumped, snapping his head back to you.

"Careful darling. Or I might just have to take you right here." You felt the cool glass of the window at your bare back as he pressed you into it. "What would your people think of their princess being fucked against a window, like a common whore?"

"You promise?" You teased, the thought sent a warm heat to your core. Loki's lips crashed onto yours. He forced his tongue into your mouth, not that you resisted. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you. You grind your hips onto his, needing the friction. Your body felt like it was on fire. Loki growled and in one swift motion, captured your arm; dragging you through the crowd and towards the exit.

You made it to your room in record time. The door had barely shut before Loki had you pressed up against it. You run your hands down his back, resting them on his waist. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Do you really want to do this now?” Loki ran his hand up your leg to cup your ass under your skirt. You moan as he kissed your neck, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You tangled your hands in his long black hair and ground down onto his dick. “Good point, we’ll talk about it after.”

He laughed and laid you down on the bed. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“You should know me better than that.” Pulling him on top of you, you buck your hips into his, meeting his eyes, “Now, shut up and kiss me.”

“My pleasure,” Loki smirked at you before attacking your lips, causing you to let out a muffled moan. You tangled your fingers in his hair again, giving it a slight tug when he did something you liked. He moved onto your neck as he used one of his hands to push your skirt up. His long fingers started to rub you through your panties, already wet with excitement. He focused most of his movements on your pulsing clit, your moan so loud you were sure they could be heard back at the party. You buck your hips again, whining, “You have too many clothes on.”

With a snap, both of you were left naked. "Better?" You hummed in approval.

Loki’s fingers found your folds and he slid one inside you, slowly pumping his them in and out of you. His lips closed around one of your nipples and your arched your back, pushing your chest into his face. You tug his hair as he adds a second finger and starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, fast and hard. The only things that could be heard in the room were your moans and the squelching sound coming from your lower half. You felt yourself tighten around his fingers and arch your back, close to release. Loki added another finger and removed is mouth from your nipple.

“L-Loki,” you cried as your body gets closer and closer. “I-I’m going to…”

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me.” The deep and low sound of his voice pushes you over the edge and you let out a loud moan. He removes his fingers from you, before putting them into his mouth and sucking on the one at a time, his eyes staring directly into your own. You whimper at the sight. It takes you a minute before you can catch your breath. Glancing down, you see his cock, long and lean like the rest of his body. Pulsating and red, its tip dripping with precum.

“Your turn,” you tell him before pushing him down and putting it in your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base. You play with the head, tongue licking and sucking it while your hand pumps the shaft; Loki’s grunts and moans spurring you on. You take him deeper into your throat and you feel his hand gather up your hair in a tight fist. He thrusts up into your mouth and you pump your hand faster in response.

“Fuck!” He moaned, tightening his grip on your hair. “So close.”

You hum around him and pick up the pace. Loki’s thrusts became erratic so you used your arm to still his hips. A few more pumps of his cock and ribbons of cum shot into your mouth. You licked up any remains, relishing in the salty taste, and looked up at Loki. He was flushed, bright red and breathing heavily, one of his arms slung over his eyes. You slowly crawled up his body and sat on his lap before gently removing his arm. “Hope you’re not getting tired.”

Loki smirked and bucked his hips underneath you. His cock was already hard again and rubbing against you, “Never.”

You ground your hips down on him in response, causing you both to let out a long moan. Positioning you above him, Loki grabbed your hips and teased your entrance with the tip of his cock. You whimpered, remembering the feeling of his fingers inside you earlier, “Stop teasing~!”

In one quick motion, he pushed you down onto him as he snapped his hips up to meet yours. He stretched your walls around him and he gave you a minute to adjust to his size before rolling his hips. It caused you to let out another moan. Loki thrust into you as you meet them with your own from above, his fingers were definitely going to leave bruises.The two of you get into a steady rhythm, hips meeting at just the right angle. Suddenly, Loki flipped you onto your back. One of his hands left your waist to rub your clit in slow, small circles. “Let me take control.”

His fingers speed up and his thrusts met yours causing you to let out moan after moan. It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar ball of fire in your lower abdomen. Clenching your walls around Loki, you feel his thrusts falter, letting you know he’s close too. You kiss Loki hard, sending both of you over the edge. You lay with Loki still above you, panting the only noise from either of you, as you both come down from your highs.

After a few minutes, Loki collapsed onto the bed next to you, both of you breathing heavy. A quiet silence falling over the room. You reach your hand out to grasp Loki’s, giving it a light squeeze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Loki turned to you and squeezed your hand back, “I know, and I am very grateful for that, love. Today just brought up some bad memories, that’s all.”

**

Steve slides into the passenger seat, and Tony’s heart flutters when he Steve turns to him with a smile.

“It’s been a while,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tony says, trying his best not to sound too dreamy. “Two weeks, right?”

“Has it already been that long?” Steve buckles his seatbelt. “I’ve been really busy with work.”

“Me too,” Tony begins to drive, then realizes he doesn’t have a destination in mind. “Where do you wanna go?”

Steve shrugs. “Anywhere with a charging port?”

“How about that place with the ice cream you liked?” Tony hedges.

“Oh god, yes please,” Steve groans, “What’s it called again? I never got to go back because I forgot the name.”

“You would.”

Steve scoffs. Tony has never wanted to lean over and kiss him more, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

**

“So you remember Pepper, my friend?” Tony asks after polishes off the pasta from his plate. 

“Yeah, ‘course I remember Pepper,” Steve says, eyes still on his food, then he looks up as he takes the last bite of his burger. “Why?”

“Well, she’s getting married next month and well,” Tony starts, waving his hand around breezily. “She reserved two seats for me because she thought—well. Anyway. She reserved two seats for me and I really don’t want to tell her to cut it down to one, because I’m sure she’s already finalized her table arrangements and I don’t want to bother her with—so, the point is,” Tony exhales quickly, and flashes Steve his most charming smile. “Do you want to come with me?”

“What, like your date?” Steve asks, frowning as he wipes his hands on a napkin.

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

“Me?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, you.” Tony furrows his brow when he notices Steve is slowly, methodically, tearing his napkin to shreds. “Who else am I talking to?”

“Why me?” Steve asks, looking a bit helpless.

“Why not?” Tony asks, nonplussed.

“That’s not a fair response, Tony,” Steve chides.

“Do you not want to go?” Tony licks his lips nervously. “It’s okay, I can ask someone else, or something, it’s fine”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but snaps it shut when a waitress arrives with his dessert. The silence stretches on and Steve shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Tony balls his hand into a fist to stop himself from wiping at the small smear on the side of Steve’s lip, and digs his fingernails even deeper into his palm as he watches Steve’s tongue poke out of his mouth to lick it off.

“I just…” Steve pauses, then tries to nonchalantly hide all of his ripped up tissues under a napkin. “I don’t know, you don’t think it’s gonna be weird?”

“Why would it be weird? I’m a swell date.” Tony gestures to their empty plates, the ice cream melting in Steve’s cup. “See? I treat you right.”

Steve frowns again. “This is a date?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be, babe,” Tony winks. He’s laying it on pretty thick, sure, but that just means he can brush it off as a joke if Steve gets pissed. God, he hopes Steve doesn’t get pissed. 

“Tony, you’re scaring me. You have that face on,” Steve says hesitantly.

“What face?” Tony snaps out of his thoughts, smiles his most captivating smile. “My face is fine.”

“Your weird… pinched in face.” Steve waves around a spoon as if wiping his words away. “Nevermind.”

“So?” Tony wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Date me?”

Steve laughs, and Tony almost doubles over in relief. 

“Fine.”

“Fine? God, I was hoping for some excitement! We get to dress up, eat great food—Pep’s got great taste in food, let me tell you—and you get the best date this side of the Hudson.”

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately. “You forget that I only have one suit, so you’ll have to deal with my award outfit.”

Tony throws his head back and groans with exasperation. “That thing? Does not highlight your assets.” Tony looks back and gazes at Steve appraisingly. “I’m thinking… blue.”

Steve’s eyebrow is quirked up, unimpressed.

“Because of your eyes,” Tony says, gesturing to Steve’s face. 

“Groundbreaking,” Steve deadpans.

“Hey, I’m not the artist here, you are. All I'm saying is that now that you’re my date it’s only right that you dress the part. And I'd be remiss if I didn't help style my date, right?”

Steve rolls his eyes again, shakes his head as he bites down a smile. “Is it too late to take it back?”

“Of course it is.” 

“Should’ve known you had an ulterior motive for asking me to work together,” Steve sighs dramatically.

Tony pouts. “I thought you said you missed me.”

“I did,” Steve agrees, smiling as he eats another spoonful of ice cream. “And now, somehow, I’m your date to Pepper’s wedding.”

“I know!” Tony grins giddily. “Aren’t you excited? I’m excited.”

“Of course you are,” Steve laughs. “Are we going to make up a story about how I ended up your date?”

“Do you want to? I thought that would be too much.”

Steve looks up from his ice cream. “Too much?” He asks, “so you know the meaning, then?”

“Ass.”

Steve grins devilishly. 

“I was thinking of just saying, you know. We kinda finally realized we’d be good together,” Tony says, and he’s being so honest that it hurts a little.

Steve’s grin falters for a second and Tony worries if he’s said something wrong, but Steve laughs it off. “That’s boring. We could come up with something about how we started dating, it’d be funny, right?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, smiling tightly. “Funny.”

They smile at each other for a second and Tony wishes he could just come out and ask Steve what he was thinking, but things don’t work that way. 

“How about,” Steve starts, tapping his nose as he thinks. It’s an adorable tic, and Tony relaxes a little has he takes in how Steve looks in the soft yellow light of the cafe.

“I have an idea!” Tony says, all of the sudden. “Let’s just keep making things up. Keep each other on our toes.”

Steve laughs. “That sounds so dumb,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

**

Steve’s jaw literally drops when he turns to look at himself in the mirror.

Tony, standing behind him, is looking equally guppy-faced in the mirror.

“Steve,” Tony says reverently, letting his eyes sweep over Steve’s new blue velvet jacket and black pants. “You look amazing.”

Steve lets out a shocked huff of laughter. “Yeah, I do, don’t I,” he says.

Tony gently lays his hand on the small of Steve’s back, taking the opportunity to look at him closer, then from different angles.

“You have outdone yourself, Luis,” Tony says to his tailor, who puffs his chest up in pride. 

“Of course I did, Tony. Can’t have you going on a date with someone who isn’t dressed equally sharp, huh?” Luis winks

Tony chuckles, then turns to Steve. “You like it, right?”

“I do,” Steve says, still looking at himself in the reflection. “Not so sure about my bank account liking it though.”

“I told you, I got this,” Tony says, patting Steve’s shoulder.

“I really can’t accept—I have the money, Tony.”

“I know. I didn’t say you didn’t. What I am saying is that this is part of the dating Tony experience. Wining, dining, suiting….” Tony pauses, then winks at Steve when he adds, “un-suiting.”

Steve giggles. “You’re wild.”

“Absolutely feral, my dear,” Tony says. He stops himself just in time from pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. 

Luis tells them that he’ll finish up the stitching and have it sent over to Tony’s apartment when it’s done.

“Why not to mine?” Steve asks.

“Because we’ll be coming from my place?”

Steve is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Why?”

“Because we’ll take my car…?” Tony bites his lip.

“Wait. Where is the wedding?”

Tony balks. “Hudson Valley?”

“What?!” Steve screeches.

“I thought I told you—” Tony starts, hands raised in a placating motion. 

“You did not,” Steve begins to fret, wringing his hands as he does. “All you said was a wedding next month, oh my god. I need to file a leave.”

“Sure, yeah,” Tony nods. “It’s on a Saturday though, and we have a room booked just for Saturday night.”

Steve relaxes, and the jacket highlighting how broad his shoulders are. The suit really does accentuate all of his best features. Which, Tony thinks, is all of them, but that’s neither here nor there right now.

“Oh.” Steve says. “What else do I need to know?”

Tony laughs. “I don’t know. I’ll look for the invitation and send you a picture. But it’s—whatever, I got you, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Steve gives Tony a disapproving look and sets his arms akimbo. “When it’s you, Tony, I always worry.”

“That hurts,” Tony pouts and clutches his chest. “That’s hurtful.” 

“I’m only saying it because you haven’t proven me wrong,” Steve says with a smirk, and god, it takes every ounce of self-control for Tony not to get on his knees in front of Steve, standing like that and looking god-like. He always was weak for a big man in a suit.

“Fair,” Tony says, instead, and turns to leave so Steve can get undressed.

**

Tony adjusts his tie in the mirror and behind him, Steve is bent over tying his shoelaces. Tony spends a few more moments preening, and stops only when he sees in the reflection that Steve is fumbling with his cuffs.

“Let me,” Tony says, closing the short distance between them and batting away Steve’s hand as he deftly inserts the cufflink and locks it. He gestures for Steve’s other wrist, and Tony can feel Steve gaze on his hand as he tightens the cuff. “There,” Tony says, softly. “Need help with your bow tie?”

Steve’s frown deepens. “Is it that obvious?”

Tony smiles fondly at him. “No, but I’ve never seen you in a bow tie, either.”

Steve lifts his chin obediently as Tony takes the two ends of the bow tie in his hands. This close, he can see how clean Steve’s shave is, can see how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Steve says a bit breathlessly.

Tony looks up at Steve questioningly, and bites back a smile when he sees the blush on Steve’s cheeks. He never figured Steve to be the one to blush when embarrassed.

This close, it would be so easy to pull Steve in, close the gap between them. But he holds off; they still have a whole evening together and a shared bed to boot. (Pepper had taken him seriously when Tony said he had a date, and she didn’t know how much she was helping Tony’s cause when she got them a room with queen-sized bed. Steve had laughed when he’d seen it, and made an offhand comment about how it was all par for the course, being Tony’s date and all.)

“All done,” Tony says, smoothing down the lapels of Steve’s jacket and giving him a once over. “You look devastatingly handsome.”

Steve’s cheeks brighten even more. “Thanks, Tony,” he says bashfully. “You look great, too,” he adds, after a moment.

Tony beams. “All for you, Steve,” he says, and he means it.

**

Tony spends most of the beginning of the reception program sneaking glances at Steve, startling only when he and Steve’s eyes meet as he was furtively checking him out again.

“This is fun, right?” Tony recovers quickly. 

“Super!” Steve says brightly. 

Tony only stops looking at Steve when Pepper finally makes her way to them, changed out of her wedding dress into an equally beautiful but much more sensible white gown. 

“God, Pep, if I knew you cleaned up this well I would’ve just married you myself,” Tony says, standing to press a kiss to Pepper’s cheek. “Congratulations, by the way,” he adds, then pulls her into a tight hug.

“I know,” Pepper says, pulling away and adjusting Tony’s pocket square. “That’s why I never cleaned up for you,” she teases.

Tony pouts, then remembers Steve when Pepper raises her eyebrows and looks at Steve pointedly.

“This is Steve!” Tony says, taking Steve by the arm and pulling him close. “He’s my date.”

“Congratulations!” Steve says, before kissing Pepper on the cheek.

“Thank you! I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Pepper says. “I have heard so much about you.”

Steve blushes, and Tony has to give him points; blushing on purpose was a skill even he hadn’t mastered. The ‘aw shucks,’ look sells it even more.

“Really?” He says, sounding strangely disbelieving, as if he’d never thought Tony would talk about him, which is dumb, in Tony’s opinion. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” Steve adds quickly.

“Good,” Pepper says loftily. 

Steve laughs.

“When did you start dating?”

Tony opens his mouth to respond but Steve is quicker: “Oh a few months ago. Tony took me out to dinner and held my hand as he walked me home.”

“He walked?” Pepper says, skeptical.

“I know.” Steve says, turning to smile at Tony fondly. He was really, really selling this in-love shtick, and Tony feels hope swell traitorously in his sternum. “That’s how I knew he was serious about me,” Steve says fondly, and then, in an inspired move, he takes Tony’s hand in his.

Tony is going to buy him a cake, after all this. That is, if he doesn’t get Steve to go out with him on an actual date. But those plans are for later.

“I hate you both and I regret this already,” Tony says faux haughtily, but keeps Steve’s hand in his.

**

“We were in a mountain climbing group and we shared a tent together,” Steve says to Pepper’s cousin.

“We fought over the last bagel in the cafe,” Tony tells Pepper’s other cousin.

“I bumped his car while I was backing out of a gas station.”

“I bought him sunflowers and it turns out he was allergic to them.”

"We were in the library and we were looking for the same book."

“Oh, Steve was Creative Director for the agency that did one of our campaigns,” Tony says to Nick, Pepper’s boss. “He was really brilliant, he had such great ideas, and I really liked working with him. So one day I asked him out to coffee.”

“Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?” Nick asks. “Since you were paying him?”

“By then the campaign was done and Steve wasn’t part of meetings anymore,” Tony says airily. “You really should see his work, Nick. He’s an amazing artist.”

Steve and Nick exchange numbers, and Steve steers Tony to the refreshment table by his elbow.

“You sounded really convincing,” Steve says, surprised. “I didn’t know you knew that much about my work.”

Tony shrugs and picks up an hors d'oeuvres. He scrutinizes the oyster so he doesn’t have to look at Steve when he says, “I pay attention, Steve.”

Steve pops a canapé into his mouth and then downs a glass of champagne. “That’s nice!” he says, and then wanders further down the table to eat more food.

**

Steve looks up at the speakers when a song begins to play. A soft smile blooms on his face and he says, “I love this song.”

“Dance with me, then,” Tony says, offering Steve his hand. He half expects Steve to decline, and feels his heart begin to sink when Steve merely looks at Tony’s hand.

The party is going through a slowdown, the DJ playing sweet, old people music. Of course this is the kind of music that Steve wants to dance to. If he does want to, that is. Tony’s about to laugh off his offer to save face when Steve takes his hand.

They join the few older guests on the dance floor and fumble a little to see who’ll lead. Of course, Tony wins, and he settles his hand into the curve of Steve’s spine, takes Steve’s hand in his. They sway slowly to the music, and Tony lets his eyes drift shut, enjoying Steve’s presence, the easy movements of the dance, being able to breathe the same are as him.

The song ends, and Tony blinks when he sees the small frown on Steve’s lips.

“You all right?” he asks, as they walk back to their seats.

Steve startles at the question. “Yeah,” he says, nodding effusively. “I guess champagne makes me a bit maudlin,” he adds, with a self-deprecating laugh.

“What’s there to be maudlin about?”

“Nothing,” Steve says blithely. “It’s nothing.”

Tony frowns. “We can skip out early if you want, okay?” 

“No, no,” Steve says. “Let’s stay. This is fun.”

“You just said you were getting maudlin.”

“So I’ll switch to whiskey,” Steve says easily. 

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Free drinks!” Steve stands up and buttons his jacket. He turns to Tony with a smile. “Celebrating love! Come on, let’s get drinks.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony acquiesces, and follows Steve to the bar.

**

It’s almost three in the morning when they stumble up the stairs of the old, Dutch Colonial stone mansion. They’re not drunk, not really; Tony stopped himself as soon as he felt the heady flush of tipsiness. He doesn’t trust himself to be drunk around Steve, especially since they were sharing a bed.

Neither of them bother to turn on the light, the full moon casting a glow about the room. Tony both loves and hates how romantic it is.

They both undress quickly, eager to get some rest. Out of everything tonight, this is familiar territory, both of them used to sleeping next to each other whenever nights out with the group got too rowdy and taxis were hard to come by. 

Tony brushes his teeth and watches Steve in the reflection of the mirror, only averting his gaze when Steve unbuckles his belt. He spits out the foam, then flops face down onto the bed wearing only his boxer-briefs. He listens as Steve putters about the room, brushes his teeth, then finally settles down beside him with a pleased sigh.

“Good night,” Steve says. Tony hums in response, then shifts so his back is to Steve. He shuts his eyes and listens to Steve breaths even out and the bed shift with Steve’s weight.

Tony turns again, and startles when finds Steve facing him, looking equally caught in the act. 

“Hey,” Tony whispers. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, but it looks tentative, so he isn’t.

“You sure?” Tony prods.

“Yeah,” Steve says, then turns to face the ceiling. Tony doesn’t miss the small sigh that escapes Steve’s lips.

Tony wants to touch Steve so badly, even if only to comfort him through whatever is causing this sudden sadness. But he doesn’t want to cross a line. Not that he hasn’t been crossing lines all night, trying to get Steve to see how good he’d be, how good they were together. So maybe he wasn’t scared to ask Steve to pretend to be his date tonight, but there are still a few things that do scare Tony, and he’s done being brave for the day.

**

Steve is standing by the sink when Tony wakes up. Tony yawns, stretches out his back, then ambles over to Steve. They brush their teeth in silence, then Tony playfully jostles with Steve over sink space.

“Stop it!” Steve snaps.

Tony throws his hands up and takes a step back. “Okay, wow, go shower first then.”

Steve sighs, runs a hand through his hair nervously. “No, it’s not that. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Tony says, and leaves the bathroom. He takes a seat on the bed and goes through his memories of the evening, trying to figure out where he could’ve done something wrong.

Then, Steve throws open the door of the bathroom and says, “I had a really good time last night, Tony.” His eyes are wide and he’s blinking like he’s shocked at himself.

“Yeah, me too,” Tony says, confused. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, sighing. “I just had a really good time.”

Tony smiles. “I told you I’d show you a good time, right?”

Steve nods to himself, chews on his lip as he thinks. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, then goes back inside the bathroom. 

Tony stares at the door, confused, worried, and wondering what he can do—what else he can do—to get Steve to finally fucking go out with him.

The rest of the morning passes without incident, breakfast and coffee and mingling with the other guests who spent the night. 

They’re packing their bags when Steve turns to Tony and says, “Tony, I think I need to stop hanging out with you for a while.”

“What? Why?” Tony sputters, and he’s scared of the answer.

Steve sinks down onto the bed, rests his head in his hands. “I—god, Tony, why’d you have to—” he pauses again, takes a breath. “I don’t think we can hang out for a while, at least until I’m over it.”

“Over what?” Tony asks, sitting down beside Steve and putting his hand on Steve’s knee. “What are you talking about?”

Steve stares at him through his fingers, then he shuts his eyes tight.

“I haven’t been really honest with you,” he says. 

“Okay,” Tony says, reassuringly. 

“It’s just that,” Steve pauses again, and takes a deep breath. He lowers his hands from his face and looks Tony in the eye. “It’s just that I’m I love you, okay? And I know that this was just supposed to be a fun thing but it’s—“

Tony blanches. “Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he says. 

“Okay,” Steve says, looking chastened.

“No, no,” Tony shifts closer to Steve slowly, like he would a scared animal. He fights down the instinct to jump for joy, worried by the tremulous look on Steve's face. “Steve, oh god. I love you too. You hear me? I love you. I’ve been trying to ask you out to an actual date for the longest time and I thought you just wanted to stay friends so you were humoring me—“

“You MEANT IT?” Steve almost shouts, and jumps up from the bed as if burned. “All those times?”

“Why would I be joking?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Because you’re—“ Steve waves his hands around in a helpless gesture. “You’re you! And I’m just! I’m me!”

“Exactly! You!” Tony pauses. “Why are we shouting?” He asks, tone significantly softer.

“Because!” Steve continues, half-hysterical. “You’re Tony!”

“What does that even mean?!” 

“You’re my friend and I never thought you’d like me and you flirt with everyone and ask everyone out and get them dinner—“ Steve says all in one breath.

“No, I don’t,” Tony says, faltering.

“But you do! You do that!” Steve insists. He’s pacing around the room, now, which should be comical given that he has to turn every three steps, but it just makes Tony feel nervous.

Tony takes a deep breath, then stands and takes Steve by the shoulders. “Steve,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I love you.”

Steve blinks. “You what?”

“I love you,” Tony says again, pulling Steve in close, nose to nose. “I love you, Steve Rogers.”

Steve laughs. “Oh my god,” he says shakily. “You mean it.”

“I do.”

“I love you,” Steve says, eyes wide. “And you—you love me.”

“Yes,” Tony says. 

Steve nods.

“Can I kiss you now?” Tony asks.

“Yes, please,” Steve breathes out.

Tony takes Steve’s chin in his hand and pulls him in—he smiles a little as he hears Steve’s quick intake of breath, right before their lips meet. It’s soft and chaste and tentative and absolutely wonderful.

“See? I told you,” Tony says as he pulls away, smiling as he thumbs Steve’s cheek. “Nothing to worry about, Steve. I got you.”

Steve laughs against Tony’s mouth. “Shut up and kiss me again already, Tony.”

The chancellor spoke up. Of course he would... After all, he was the one who really controlled the politics of the land, and he didn't want to let that power disappear. This time his manipulations involved a fake concern toward the Prince. Charles restrained a laugh. How dared he? That man whose eyes always seemed to burn into his skin. That man who killed...

The only hope Charles had left was to marry someone who'd get rid of that snake without being an even worse option for his country.

"What makes him think he is worthy of the Prince?"

It was rather fitting that they all pretended to care about him while ignoring him, just a few feet away from them, in a corner of the same room.

"Your Highness, I am Prince Magnus. Just let him meet me. I will win your son."

'Win' him. That... That was too much. Charles knew how he was seen. To hear it so bluntly was another thing. He rolled toward the group, all his anger spilling out of him:

"How dare you? All of you? Standing around deciding my future."

They looked embarrassed. It gave him no satisfaction. He knew they wouldn't change their plans in any way. The hypocrisy of it all... Before leaving, Charles let out the words that were bleeding into his mind, words he wasn't sure he believed in anymore:

"I am not a prize to be won."

---

He thought he'd get some peace, finally alone in his rooms, when Magnus broke the calm with some ridiculous attempt at seduction. Just more deja vu. Compliments, fake smiles, he knew it all. The only effect was reminding him how unsafe his rooms were, open to any slightly motivated climber.

There was something in Magnus, in some of his movements, that echoed... It only made Charles more bitter. That this man dared reminding him of...

For the second time today, he unleashed his anger at Magnus. Another suitor, like all the others.

Except. Except the man appeared sorry. Understanding. Charles was puzzled, unprepared for such a reaction. Where was the hurt pride? The insults?

Then Magnus jumped from the balcony and reappeared on what could only be described as a flying carpet.

All these years, Charles had prepared himself for the worst, but not for the magical.

As he touched the flying carpet, felt it react with some form of sentience, with some personality even, Charles smiled. The first genuine smile he had had in months. Or was it years? How long had it been since he felt anything at all?

His disbelief turned into wonder and it made him realize how everything had been muted until now. How his dreams were mere longing he couldn't really manage to be passionate about.

How could it be an different when he had lost all hope?

And yet now...

He felt, imagined, wanted. Oh, how he wanted...

What Prince Magnus was offering to him was something he never thought he could get. A sense of freedom, the ability to travel and discover and doing so without being stopped by the strict rules of the palace or by his unfeeling legs. It wasn't reasonable. In fact, it was even quite foolish of him, entertaining the idea of following a man he didn't know, knowing the country's future would be at risk if anything happened to him.

"Do you trust me?"

Magnus' voice brought his attention back to the present. Charles turned pale, sure he misheard the man, that his mind was playing tricks on him. He found himself truly looking into this new suitor for the first time.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

The obvious answer was no, why should he?

But the words send him to the past, back to the market when he could still walk, back when he was a naive fool hoping to change the world. When he met a young man named Erik, filled with passion and anger and kindness. A man who died because of him.

The words were the same, the gesture too, even the flicker in Magnus' eyes. It was, in every way, heartbreakingly similar and in that moment he almost believed that Erik... Could he be? Wasn't it too little to hope again?

Perhaps Charles was still a hopeful idiot after all, or perhaps he was too tired of the stillness of his life and too desperate for change. In the end, it didn't matter why. He simply couldn't stop his smile, nor ignore the shiver that went through him when he took the hand offered. With a genuine belief that shocked him, he answered:

Hank was confused by the way Alex’ eyes widened as he stared at her, then turned pleading.

“We’ll get dinner started and tell the professor how it went,” Jean said. “You can join us later.” He started herding the others out of the room. Just before she left the room, she glanced back at Hank. ‘Be gentle with him, please.’

Hank wondered what she meant. Still, there had to be a reason for her request, so he took a few deep breaths to calm down and get a grip of his temper. “Come on, Alex, just let me take a quick look. If you really prefer, I can let you clean and dress it yourself afterwards.”

“Fine,” Alex bit out. He turned his head to avoid looking at Hank.

He sighed again. “You need to push down your pants a bit so I can see the wound.” He frowned at the way Alex’ hands shook when they reached for the waistline of his uniform pants. Was the wound more painful and more serious than he’d thought?

He realized the actual reason – for both the shaking and Jean’s words – when he caught sight of Alex’ underwear. It was a pair of delicate, baby-blue panties, with lace at the top and decorating the sides. He decided to ignore it for now and concentrate on the wound. “It’s not as bad as I feared,” he said quietly, “but we should still dress it after we clean it.” His eyes kept getting drawn back to the panties as he worked but he stayed silent.

“Don’t tell the others, please,” Alex requested softly.

Hank glanced up at him but Alex had his head turned away, shoulders rigid and fists clenched. “Of course not.” Then, unable to help himself, he asked: “Do you often wear…?”

“No. Just sometimes. When I like to... to feel...pretty.” The last word was almost inaudible.

“It is. Pretty, I mean. You are.” Hank dared to gently run his thumb along the edge of the panties, just a bit above the dressing he’d just finished. The shiver and goose bumps running over Alex were gratifying.

“I have other things in my room.”

“Would you show me?” Hank asked and he’d normally be self-conscious about the animalistic growl in his voice but he was too distracted by the thought of Alex in only lingerie or some pretty dress.