#rex.wrt

The other Avengers had, for the most part, paired off: Steve with Wanda, Bruce with Pepper, Thor with Natasha (which, Thor on ice skates was also hilarity incarnate), and Sam with Bucky. It left Clint and Tony as the spares which wasn't all that surprising, and it meant that Clint got to stare at the billionaire genius do his best not to crack his pretty head open while Clint lazily circled the rink, just at home on ice skates as he'd been on the highwire as a teenager.

Eventually, he took pity on the other man, twisting around so that he was gliding backwards as he came up on Tony. "C'mon, shellhead, gimme your hands." The six-foot-three archer effortlessly glided over so that he was directly in front of Tony, still skating backwards so that they were face-to-face. He reached out with both hands, fingers curling in a grabby hands motion, trying to get Tony to give him his hands.

Tony, to his credit, gave Clint a skeptical look, even as he desperately tried not to overbalance and send himself pinwheeling across the ice. "Because you're so good at this, Merida?"

Clint snorted, his eyebrows arching. "Between the two of us who's the one skating backwards?"

Okay, fine, it may have been a stupid thing to say, but that wasn't the point, was it? The futurist gave the still-offered hands one more long look before he sighed long-sufferingly and reached out to put his hands in Clint's. The archer's long fingers immediately curled firmly around his hands and Tony found his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he swallowed. "Okay, so what now?"

Clint's lips spread in a smile when Tony finally gave in to the offer of help. "Now, I teach you how to skate. But first," Clint paused and readjusted his grip on the other man so that he was grasping the whole of his forearms instead. It would be easier to keep Tony standing that way, without risking snapping his wrists. "Alright, now stand up straight, feet aligned with your shoulders."

They had long since glided to a stop, so it wasn't all that difficult for Tony to straighten up, getting his legs under him and his skates straight. And with Clint supporting him he felt almost stable on the skates for the first time.

"See, not that hard." Clint smiled, and then chuckled as Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay, so you're going to push off, one foot at a time. Small strokes, and don't worry about running into me, I'll stay out of your way."

"Uh huh, small strokes, right." Tony had to bite back the retort he wanted to give to that, focusing instead on the whole... skating bit. His first couple of 'steps' were shaky, but it actually helped a lot that he had Clint's strong arms to brace himself against (and good God, the man's arms were all muscle, all that archery was seriously paying out dividends).

"Lookit that, we'll have you doing triple lutz's in no time."

"Hilarious, Barton. You ever consider giving up the whole Avenger thing to be a comedian? I feel like you could do well, you'd be a real hoot."

Clint rolled his eyes, but there was a grin on his face. "Y'know, I hadn't before, but now that you've mentioned I just may have to give it a whirl."

Every so often Clint was glancing back over his shoulder to make sure that he didn't run into anyone, but the majority of his attention was on Tony and keeping him upright. "Alright, so let's start working on lengthening that stride. The quicker we get you moving at speed the easier it gets." Skating slowly was a hell of a lot harder than skating at a good pace.

It took them a few minutes, but eventually Tony did get the hang of it. So much so that Clint had to shift so that they were skating side-by-side. At some point, his hand had slid down from Tony's forearm to his hand, their fingers tangled together.

"Legolas?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thanks for the help."

"Anytime, Gimli, anytime."

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Stood in front of the mirror Steve tugged on the bright yellow gloves before smoothing his hands over the suit. It was all black except for the boots, gloves, belt, cape medallions, and inside of the cape which were all bright yellow. And there was a mask, of course, there was always a mask, but instead of a full head cowl he'd gone with a partial that left his hair free. The biggest difference between the designs was the deep V down the front of the suit that revealed his naked chest and stomach. Which...yeah, Steve wasn't sure exactly what he'd been thinking at the time he'd designed it, but there was a reason (several, actually) that 'Nomad' had only lasted less than a year before he was captain America again.

But, right, Halloween. Dress up. All that good stuff. Honestly, Steve was blaming Scott for this, because despite how ridiculous he looks Steve knows that Scott's going to get a kick out of it. His whole face will light up the way it does when he grins, and the corners of his eyes will crinkle adorably, and Steve will just....melt. He'll melt and fall in love with the man all over again like he did every time the man smiled at him. So, yeah, totally and completely Scott's fault.

Steve chuckled at the ridiculousness of his own thoughts, a hand lifting to run through his hair. Well, it was now or never. He could hear another door opening down the hall and he didn't want to keep Scott waiting. With one more look in the mirror to make sure his mask was on straight Steve turned and walked out of the room, cape billowing majestically behind him.

He knew Scott would be waiting for him in the living room, so that was where he went, curious to see what the other man had decided to dress up as this year. He discovered the answer to that question when he stepped into the living room and was confronted with the swish of a yellow and black cape as Scott turned to face him dressed up in the identical outfit that Steve was wearing.

There was a beat of silence and then both men burst out laughing. Steve laughed so hard he ended up bent over, hands on his knees in an attempt to brace himself. Thankfully, Scott was there, grasping Steve's shoulders and helping him upright even as the pair continued to chuckle about the fact that they really were That Couple.

Baby blue eyes looked his husband up and down, and Steve had to bite his lower lip to quell the chuckles. "I know this is where I'm supposed to say 'it looks better on you than it does on me', buuuut..." A peal of laughter escaped, the super-soldier grinning as he shook his head.

"Oh, gee, thanks, husband of mine. You really know how to make a guy feel special." The words were a chastisement, but there's laughter in them, Scott smacking Steve in the shoulder.

At the impact the laughter Steve had been holding back escaped in a bout of giggles and his hands at Scott's hips tugged the man in against him. The taller man leaned down, eyes bright as he grinned. "I try my best."

Steve's eyes flicked down to take in the way the costume hugged Scott's hips and shoulders which was, well, Steve would admit that maybe his design hadn't been totally flawed. But, then he got to the deep V and the cape and he was giggling again, his hands lifting to cradle Scott's neck, leather-covered thumbs trailing along Scott's bearded jawline. He was just leaning in to show his husband just how special Steve thought he was when Scott's murmur sounded in the breath of air shared between them.

"But, if you like this, just wait until you see what I'm wearing underneath it."

Steve will forever blame the ridiculous eyebrow waggle Scott made for why he dissolved into giggles just at that moment, but Scott was giggling right along with him, so Steve supposed that was alright. Not that it mattered all that much as their mouths effortlessly found one another's, the pairs' laughter quieted by the gentle movement of their lips.

Soft laughter rises from the vicinity of his neck, one of Matt's hands slipping under Steve's shirt to splay his hand against Steve's stomach. "Of course."

The corner of Steve's lips twist up in a crooked grin and he half-twists to look at the other man as much as he can. "Whadda ya mean, 'of course'?" 

"You know what I mean." 

There's a slight sardonic lilt to the words that Steve takes with a grain of salt, because he does know what Matt means: that Steve feels the need to save everyone, to fight every dragon he comes across, and save the day in the process. But it isn't like he and Matt don't share that particular trait. 

Steve twists to put his palette and brush down before he turns in Matt's embrace, his arms winding around the shorter man, tugging him in so that they're chest-to-chest. Leaning down, Steve catches his boyfriend's lips in a clinging kiss, his broad hands smoothing over the other man's back. 

Slow to pull away Steve doesn't even go all that far, instead knocking his forehead against Matt's affectionately before they come to rest against one another's. "Y'know that I'm your knight in shining armour first and foremost, right?" Yeah, it's cheesy, but when it comes to romance, cheesy is Steve Rogers' bread and butter. 

Just like he thought it would, the line makes Matt laugh. "I've always considered you the angel on my shoulder, but I will take knight in shining armour." The man steals one more kiss before he untangles them and steps away, heading into the kitchen and leaving a bemused and utterly besotted super-soldier standing at his canvas watching him go. 

Oh, the party had gone well enough; Cassie was adorable, and all her friends were in the normal range of pre-teen/early teenage rebellion. All of that, he could definitely handle. It's her dad that's the problem. Scott Lang was entirely too adorable and too attractive for his own good. Steve had thought he was a fellow party entertainer at first, because when Steve stepped out into the backyard the man was doing magic tricks and, oh. Magicians were Steve's weakness. He had such a thing for magic, it absolutely delighted him, and he was aware of just how ridiculous that was considering he was a full-grown thirty-two-year-old man, but he really didn't care. He was also a full-grown thirty-two-year-old man whose day job consisted of dressing up in a Captain America costume for kids (his night job, on the other hand, was stripping a different Captain America costume off for adults— but just stripping; he was an entertainer, not a prostitute), so being a nerdy geek who liked magic was par for the course, really.

The entire first hour of the gig Steve had to actively work to keep his focus on the kids and not get distracted trying to watch the man on the other side of the yard performing his magic tricks. It wasn't until a man (Mr. Paxton, Steve assumed from the way Mrs. Paxton greeted him) arrived with the cake and the kids all gathered inside to sing happy birthday to Cassie that Steve learned Mr. Magic Hands' name. The man introduced himself as Scott Lang, which made him Mrs. Paxton's ex-husband and Steve found himself thinking that must be super awkward, but it wasn't something he was going to outright ask.

Scott, of course, was needed to take part in the whole cake ritual, and Steve felt his heart melt a little in his chest watching the man. It was obvious he loved his daughter, and that she adored him. And, weirdly, Scott and Mr. and Mrs. Paxton all functioned like a single unit, no post-relationship awkwardness— or at least none that Steve could immediately see. It had him wondering what kind of special Scott was.

Steve didn't get to ponder that for too long, because after cake he was back to being the main attraction, all his focus on the kids. He'd been booked for the entirety of the afternoon, so it was nearly four hours before the kids were all heading home, including Cassie and the Paxtons as the party had been held at Scott's house. The sudden and complete silence after spending an entire afternoon with a bunch of rowdy teenagers was startling, Steve's ears ringing a little. Maybe it was the quiet pressing down on them like a weighted blanket, but Steve was loathe to break it, even to ask about being paid. Which, y'know, he was going to have to do eventually, one way or another.

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It actually ended up being Clint's girlfriend: a five-foot-three, cunning redhead who had just moved in down the hall from Clint just after Thanksgiving. Her name was Natasha Romanoff, and when she'd heard about the challenge she had just smirked and patted Clint on the cheek, confident her victory was already in the bag.

She wasn't wrong. For all Bucky had built-in mistletoe detection he didn't have all that many defences against a determined Russian who was stronger than she looked. Especially when she ambushed him in the hallway that led to his apartment (he lived next door to Clint), managed to catch him off guard, and proceeded to slam his back against his own front door.

"Looks like I win the game, Yasha."

The redhead was clearly smug, and Bucky felt the corner of his lips curl up when she called him Yasha. Clearly, she and Clint had been talking about him. Not that the fact that Bucky had minored in Russian in college was a secret or anything. Clint had done the same, it was actually how they'd met.

"I don't know what you're talking about, маленький."

Natasha apparently didn't love being called 'little one', her nose scrunching up as she scowled in a way that really was all too adorable. Bucky didn't get a chance to inform her of that before she was pointing upwards. Huh? He tilted his head back even as Natasha was speaking.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his head tilted back he could see the sprig of mistletoe tacked into the top of his doorjamb and he groaned. "Seriously? My own damn door?" He was grousing, but it sounded a lot like whining, and when he dropped his head there was a smirk on his lips, the brunet shaking his head. "Well, looks like I owe you something, маленький."

He didn't give her a chance to protest the continued use of the endearment. Instead, he hooked his right arm around her waist, biceps bulging as he lifted her up, planning on turning them around and pressing her against his door. When her legs wound around his waist and her fingers buried themselves in his hair to yank him in for a kiss instead, he just grinned against her lips and gave himself over to her whim.

Their kiss was more than what anyone would expect when caught under the mistletoe with an acquaintance (though, Bucky would argue that, as they shared a boyfriend, they were probably more than acquaintances, though they'd only talked a handful of times), neither of them willing to be the first to back down. Bucky felt her strong, slender fingers pulling at his hair, Natasha using that grip to help keep her steady, Bucky not able to steady her himself since his right arm was slung under her bottom and his left arm was in some landfill, trapped in a twisted heap of metal that used to be his car.

Not wanting to risk dropping her he finally spun them around like he had meant to earlier, trapping her smaller body between his chest and the door. Now they could really go at it, Bucky's tongue plundering Natasha's mouth, moaning at the taste of her.

They were on the verge of getting carried away, given that they were in a public space and all, when a familiar, low chuckle sounded from somewhere over his shoulder.

"Huh, so looks like someone finally won The Game."

Bucky was panting as he wrenched his lips away from Natasha's and looked over his shoulder at Clint, cerulean eyes nearly black with how big his pupils were. "Uh huh, we can throw a party to celebrate later. Now get your ass over here."

Clint was laughing as he closed the distance between them, pressing himself up against Bucky's back, head dipping to nip at Bucky’s neck. "We should take this inside, Yasha, before Rogers shows up to play Hall Monitor."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but Clint wasn't wrong. And it wasn't that Steve was a prude, he really wasn't. But he and Steve had grown up together, were basically brothers, and neither of them wanted to be anywhere near the other when clothes started coming off.

Natasha shifted slightly to look past Bucky at Clint, clearly displeased that they were taking so long. "Get the door, Clinton."

The blond's face fell at the use of his full name, but he reached around the pair to grasp the doorknob, not surprised when it turned easily, Bucky having left it unlocked yet again. Pushing the door open all three of them tumbled into Bucky's apartment, the sound of Clint's laughter cut off as he kicked the door shut behind them.

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