#thecitywritesshow

    He’d staggered from the ship months ago, and Pepper had wrapped him into a hug he was so relieved to accept – but then Steve had been reaching for him too, unconscious, and Tony had gone.

“I don’t forgive you.” Tony had growled into his chest, even as he’d buried his face in Steve’s chest and his hands in his shirt. “I don’t,” but it sounded like I do, and Steve had hugged him tightly.

They’ve been standing shoulder to shoulder for months now. Plans upon plans and they’re a tactical front, through grief and tears they’re a united front, and even now when they argue, they’re together. They’re going to finish this together.

    “Sir,” Friday’s lilt brings him out of automatic into the fray, and it’s jarring. If this is how the end comes, he almost wishes for the Battle of New York, and the quiet crushing death of space. He could almost wish for the ship he’d staggered from not a year ago, but no… Whatever it takes, he’ll see this through.

He’s fighting with Steve, and it’s how it always should be. Back to back and side by side, a shield returned to its rightful owner – they’re not losing yet. None of them are down and Thanos’s chitauri continue to fall. Thanos himself is almost at his knees.

Steve staggers back into him, but shoots him a slightly manic grin and is straight back into the fray, and Tony steps after him without thought, a grin gracing his face.

“Steve!” Tony calls out – and he retracts the helmet. He can still protect his face. Steve whirls, still fighting. He trusts Tony without thought to have his back. “Will you marry me?” Tony says. Steve’s jaw drops open.

“I don’t think now is the time, Tony!” Steve yells back, seeing last second a fist that he slams out of the way. Tony can see Stephen give them a funny look, but Tony doesn’t care. He never should’ve.

“Now may be the only time!” Tony blasts the thing looming over Steve’s shoulder, catching Steve’s arm – a brief second of solace in the fight to lock eyes. “I love you.” Tony can’t read Steve’s gaze beyond hope. “I’ve made my choice. What’s yours?” Steve’s staring at him like he’s mad – but Tony’s got nothing in him to worry about it now. Steve’s always thought he was mad – and always loved him for it too, even when they fought. Steve looks away, looking for someone else among the fight-

“Clint!” Steve yells, and Tony has two seconds to think what the actual fuck do you mean ‘Clint’?! before Steve is grinning brightly. “Marry us!” Oh yeah. Clint got ordained in Vegas, way back when.

Clint does stop fighting then, kicking a chitauri in the chest and turning to gap at the pair of them. “I’m a little fucking busy at the moment!” He gestures around them, as if they could’ve failed to remember the situation that they’re in.

“Just do it!” Tony shouts back – and god he’s grinning and laughing, and Clint’s too busy punching something in the face-

“Clint, now!” Bucky yells – barrelling past on the shoulders of a chitauri, Rocket still perched on his shoulder before springing off.

“Fine then!” Clint snaps. “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today,” he starts, and nearly gets beheaded by a chitauri, but Tony takes a well-placed shot and if Clint’s hair was growing out before it’s not now. Clint turns to deal with them, and Tony decides to take his cue.

“Steven Rogers,” Tony starts, and Steve’s eyes are bright – Tony retracts the gauntlet because fuck it, he can fight one handed, and Steve’s already reaching for him. “Do you take me, to be your husband?”

“I do!” Steve’s grin is wonderful, and if he didn’t need to swing them around to land a hit before one of them gets killed, Tony’d kiss him. “Anthony Stark, do you take me,” Steve flings his shield, and they’re whirling again so Steve can catch the physics-defying thing, “to be your husband?”

Tony catches him again, drawing them close. “I do,” he says, and there’s every atom of sincerity he’s ever been able to muster in his words.

Clint’s words seem to ring out over the fight. “By the power invested in me, by a planet a fuck off long way from here, I now pronounce you-,” his words are lost for a second to the roar of the hulk, not far off and socking Thanos in the face, “-and husband,” Tony looks and Steve and thinks holy shit you’re my husband. “You may kiss!”

Tony leans in, but they are in a battlefield and he has to take a moment to stop his husband (husband! Husband, husband, holy shit-) from being impaled. “Just kiss!” Natasha yells – and she’s grinning at Clint’s shoulder, fighting at the archer’s six, because that’s where she fought best before and fights best now. It’s Steve who clasps his arm this time, tugging them both in – half dipped in a battle field, and Tony can’t help but wrap both his arms around Steve’s neck because-

Because, for a moment, it’s just them. Just the two of them. There’s no battle, there’s no universe-depending consequences, no titan, guardians, new sorcerers or resurrections a plenty, just- Captain America and Iron Man. Together, as the universe intended.

    It’s empowering – god, they should get married every battle if this is what it does for team morale – and something in Tony is laughing, is absolutely joyous in the midst of all this insanity. It no longer feels like they’re out numbered, and they’ve almost got the gauntlet from Thanos. No more tricks, no more taunts and;

The gauntlet slips away from the mad titan’s reach and with it, most of his army. They’ve done it. Tony seeks Steve out again;

It’s a moment too late, that he realises-

“Steve!” Tony calls out, blast firing, but the damage is done. Steve cries out as the blade sinks into his back. “Steve, no!” The suit releases him as he staggers forward, the battle field still, and he’s the first to make it there, “Steve no, no, you can’t leave me, not now… 

“Steve, no, look at me, stay with me.

Cross My Heart (And Hope It’s Yours)

Based off a post of @goodmorningbeloved‘s that I can no longer find but saved at the time, it’s a Stony soulmate fic, set post-IW but not actually IW compliant. It’s got time travel shenanigans, angst like woah, and an eventual happy ending. I was think Steve/Tony, unrequited Bucky/Steve, Bruce/Bucky/Nat, Pepper/Sam, Rhodey/Carol and Thor/Jane (according to my notes). 

This is the one I can’t do on my own. I have the chapter list sat here, plus a couple of snippets, but I’m kind of scared to build it otherwise. @laexploradoraaa did you say you were interested in this? 

Here’s a little snippet;

Tony glances down at his wrist. He’s in the rubble of New York where he was before. The same people are gathered around – he was gone for months, but he was gone for less than a moment. He’s not the only one surprised.

The X is still there.

A mark as if drawn on in black ink, like he’s seen on the skin of so many people and never seen on his own. He’s still waiting for it to disappear, he realises, but it’s not fading. There’s small changes happening to the situation; whatever he changed, it’s helping. The X isn’t fading.

He looks up, and finds Bruce before he finds him.

“Time is more linear than we thought.” Tony says, and then he starts to laugh.

Beautiful Clocks (Time Is A Beastly Thing)

This one is one I wouldn’t mind assistance with - whether it’s a collaborator, someone to do Tony’s POV, a beta/cheer-reader... I don’t mind. It’s a Stony Beauty and the Beast AU, with a time-loop twist based off some meta I saw when the most recent Beauty and the Beast came out. I have it casted, I have a chapter list with each chapter having a small blurb, I just... can’t get the feel quite right when I sit down to type. Here’s the blurb for a better feel, lmk if you’re interested! @ishipallthings, this might interest you? 

They weren’t truly sure which one of them had been cursed. Prince Steven, confined to a weak, sickly form, a runtish thing with tooth and claw – no slight to his vanity, for he had none, but a slight to his pride; for how can he defend his people when he cannot even walk his stairs without the need for a rest? When he can no longer lift his sword?

His friends, his family… all of them trapped with him, having refused to leave. Ornaments and crockery, now. With soul and mind but no beating heart.

They become more ornamental with each passing re-run… all of them trapped in this cycle, week after week after the week.

Each week the merchant comes. Each week the son makes the trade. Each week, Steve falls a little further in love, knowing that he’s never going to be loved in return.

Birds From A Cage

This one I’ve got covered. A slowbuild poly-soulmate fic for Tony/Bruce/Nat/Steve/Bucky, that now it actually has a title I think fits it, I’m ready to go! If you wanna ask my questions about this verse, hmu, but I’m not going to say too much here because I’m happier in my ability to do this one. I will, however, leave you with a snippet; 

The graveyard is empty when the façade finally drops.

And the names don’t appear on the Hulk’s skin.

They’re stark against skin cold from the ice,

And where the red room had already given up trying to burn them off,

Hydra have no such sense.

 Damage. That’s what ties these five together.

 The past… it’s cold and it’s raining. Three are lost to snow and ice, and three are behind fists – Tony is lost to grief. Grief for his missing soulmates, only two of whom he knows, and grief for his Mama.

What a mess, Tony thinks numbly; numb fingers, numb cheeks, numb heart, numb mind. Nothing hurts more than the ache in his chest, for his Mama, and his Jarvis, for just someone who loves him, to be there, and telling him it’ll be okay.

 But Steve Rogers is lost to the ice and the ocean.

Bruce Banner still hides from his father’s fists.

Natalia Romanova has entered the red room,

And James Barnes is prisoner in his own head.

Tony Stark is seventeen, halfway to eighteen… it won’t be long before he’s lost to the bottle.

Softly, With Starry Eyes

He reaches out to tuck a fallen curl behind Tony’s ear. Tony can feel the nerves sitting in Steve’s gut, but all he can feel is relief.

Maybe this won’t be so hard.

“Dinner.” Steve says, breaking Tony out of his thoughts. “We should have dinner first.” He’s smiling, and his fingers are still tracing Tony’s cheek. Tony reaches up to intertwine them with his own.

“Dinner,” he echoes. “We can do that.”

A shared emotions soulmate AU in which everyone expects Steve and Tony to angst over the situation and continue their antagonist barely-even-co-workers style relationship for Some Time, but what actually happens is a healthy embarkment into a strong and trusting romantic relationship.

I did say this is an AU.

Featuring; Tony actually wants a soulmate, the two most stubborn individuals on the planet, some rare-pairs because fight-me, and really not that much angst at all.

Tony/Steve, Clint/Bruce/Bucky, Rhodey/Nat, Jan/Pep, Thor&Loki.

 thank you, kind ghost

A long ass fic that leads into a complex universe, injecting a large supernatural element into the MCU universe. Written for @kiernaserea, it features Ghost!Steve haunting Tony as he grows up, and them eventually being able to get to know eachother.

Large focus on slow-build Steve-Tony, Steve&Maria friendship, and Tony becoming the Tony we all know and love.

Tony fusses over the bots quietly, but eventually he turns to where Steve stands, his hand not in the sling coming to rest on Dum-E’s head. “So you’re my kind ghost?” he asks, and his voice is shaking. “Steven fucking Rogers…” he murmurs around a smile so fragile, that Steve can’t help but quip;

“There should be a Captain in there somewhere.” and though his voice is breaking, Tony smiles and he’s laughing, and perhaps it’s slightly hysterical but the haunted look fades a little behind his eyes. Steve smiles back easily and lets Tony laugh. He stops eventually, propping himself up on Dum-E - who’s more than happy to stay there and be a prop - and for a moment he just stares at Steve.

“Do I want to know?” he asks after a moment, and swallows hard. “My mother-” he stops himself. Steve wishes he could pull the man into a hug.

“She wants to see you.” Steve settles on, when it's clear that Tony’s not going to speak. “But she doesn't want to make this worse.” Tony's eyes go wide.

“What the fuck is going on? Because you- you and her are very dead.” he freezes then. “Did I die, is that it? Or is this some form of punishment-?”

“No! No, it's-” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You're not dead, Tony. I don't know how you can see us now, but you can, so that's a, that's a, a thing.” Tony's got one eyebrow raised at him. “You're not crazy, I swear.” Steve tells him, because he knows what Tony is thinking.

“So I'm just supposed to accept that Captain America decided to spend his afterlife haunting the fuck out of me?”

“If you could that would really speed this explanation up.”

The Soulmate Situation

A poly-soulmate, names on skin fic, where Tony, Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Bruce all share a bond. Slow-build, mild emotional angst, but mostly just them feeling out each other’s broken edges and getting together. It’s got a lot to it with no substance, at present. A snippet of the prologue, to give a feel…

Time likes to play games.

 Meeting soulmates two and three is something of a clusterfuck.

Steve Rogers isn’t dead.

(He thought he was though, he’d made peace with that, and now he’s in a future and screaming that he shouldn’t be here even if most of his soulmates are).

There’s a god in the room and another out to get them, and oh, Bruce Banner’s smirk is adorable but his walls are up (- and he’s furiously trying to barricade himself up behind them, muttering this is bad this is bad this is bad-) and he’s tense as hell. Tony’s never felt more alone in a crowded room that he does right now.

Three names in touching distance, and about as far away as they could be. No friends.

No allies.

He’s never been called a team player, and maybe this is why.

 It’s all any of them ever wanted to be.

 +

 Tony looks down, and they look up. Nuke in hand, Tony’s 99% assured of his own imminent destruction. Time will take him back too soon. He wonders if there are words.

They all do.

I’m sorry seems quite prevalent. Forgive me, hot on its heels.

They’ll be Tony’s dying words, if he does speak, but he’s no poet and there’s nothing worthy that he can make pass his lips.

There’s worse things to die for, Tony thinks to himself, and then the universe is stretching out before him. He closes his eyes to the endless abyss and the armada beyond with a smile and a not-quite prayer, and hope that wherever he’s destined for James will be waiting.

Steve smiles like the sun when he wakes on a roar, and Tony thinks to himself there are worse things to live for.

 Cross My Heart

Based, with permission on a complex ass idea of @goodmorningbeloved’s that I was very eager for, planned, and then had a very bad drop in mental health. If you vote for this, I’m going to need help. I can’t do this fic alone. The opening, to give a feel…

It starts like this.

 Tony glances down at his wrist. He’s in the rubble of New York where he was before. The same people are gathered around – he was gone for months, but he was gone for less than a moment. He’s not the only one surprised.

The X is still there.

A mark as if drawn on in black ink, like he’s seen on the skin of so many people and never seen on his own. He’s still waiting for it to disappear, he realises, but it’s not fading. There’s small changes happening to the situation; whatever he changed, it’s helping. The X isn’t fading.

He looks up, and finds Bruce before he finds him.

“Time is more linear than we thought.” Tony says, and then he starts to laugh.

 For Tony, it starts like this.

 Tony feels like he’s committing some form of cardinal sin.

It’s not unusual for the crossed – those with their soulmate X’s – to sleep with other people, even the uncrossed. It would be silly not to, so often people don’t know who caused the X to appear on their wrists.

But this is Captain America.

Fuck that, it’s Steve Rogers, who’s damn well meant to be untouchable to someone like Tony. He’s just so touchable though, and he started it.

When this all comes crashing down around his ears, Tony will remember. Steve started this.

 For Steve, it starts like this.

 He walks fast, avoiding people on the streets as they bustle past, avoids the alleyway and- wait. Tony walks back a few steps, and before it honestly registers what he’s seeing, he’s calling out “hey!” The two taller men step apart for a moment, and Tony gets a flash of blond hair from the guy they were kicking the shit of before they turn to him. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size? Maybe without ganging up on him like cowards?” The men sneer, glancing at each other, and with a sigh Tony holds open his jacket to show them the revolver he’s got tucked in his belt. “Pull the other one, fellas.” He says – god it’s only been a month and he’s picking up the slang in a way he never had when it was just Steve to learn it from. The men pale, and leave in a huff.

Tony’s holding out a hand to help the poor guy up, and it’s not until he’s staring into a pair of blue eyes he knows as intimately as he knows himself, that Tony realises he’s just fucked up.

There’s an X on his wrist, to match the one on Steve’s.

Part of him wants to laugh that he’s always been jealous of himself, and the rest of him seems to be sending in an error report.

“You didn’t have to do that…?” Steve trails off into a question, and Tony coughs, wishing he didn’t have to lie about his name but knowing he must.

“Edward.” He says. “And I couldn’t just let my best fella get beaten.”

 The middle?

Well.

That’s complicated.

 The Road Through Hell (Is Paved With Fucking Landmines)

Welcome to the best Worst Road Trip fic you’ll ever read; where everyone's crazy, the war doesn’t matter, and the only thing being counted are the bullet holes in Howard's Aston Martin.

A fic featuring Tony, Natasha, Loki, Clint and Sam going AWOL amid my version of WW3 to go and rescue the unit that Steve, Bucky and Thor are assigned where it has been lost and abandoned behind enemy lines. The war is in the background, this features SteveTony letters, ridiculous jokes and dark moments, but a surprising lack of angst. Hopefully.

 Treasure of the Heart

When Steve Rogers comes to see him, and wishes to find his brother, Bruce knows that to grant his wish will set a chain of events in motion. Events that could tear apart the kingdom, and will probably break his heart.

He says yes anyway.

Wish-granter!Witch!Bruce, pre-serum!adventurer!Steve, soul-forger!Tony, assassin!Natasha, half-elf!theif!Clint, dwarven!Thor, knight!Rhodey, cleric!Pepper and faye!Jan. Also featuring Dummy, Jarvis, You and Butterfingers as soul-wisps, a Peter&Harley&Kamala cameo, and a past to remain where it lays.

It’s a Bruce/Bucky fic, with an on-going plan that’s sat in a chat. I’m fond of it, even if it drives me nuts.

(If people were looking for The Stark’s High Society Orphans Club on this list, I apologise, but also promise that that fic is always on-going, but it also never had a plan. I’m still writing it, but it gets more attention than all of these and gets difficult at every turn).

@ishipallthings @itsallavengers @xtaticpearlsblog @codeflaws @savedbythenotepad @itstheallmother @reioka @agenderraskel @viudanegraaa uh… fuck, just, please?? Help me?? I don’t know which to work on and I’d prefer to work on something people would actually like to read!!

A tell-tale itch sweeps over his left forearm, and Steve brings his arm up to watch, wide-eyed, as words dance across his skin. Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! it reads, in thick, scruffy scrawl. Steve stares at it in shock for a moment, before scrambling out of bed with a whoop.

“Steven?” his ma asks, shocked but smiling as he barrels into the kitchen, still shirtless with his pyjamas pooling around his ankles.

“I need a pen!” he’s grinning so hard his face hurts. “Pen, pen pen!” he chants, searching through the pile of papers to the side of the table to find one. Sarah dips to kiss his cheeks, but turns back to where she’s cooking at the stove as he pulls one victoriously from the pile.

Thank you soulmate! Steve writes back in his own spidery scrawl. Happy 4th of July! He sits down at the table, and watches with bated breath for a reply. Sarah sets the customary birthday pancakes in front of him, and when he glances up at her, she’s grinning with tears in her eyes – apparently Steve hadn’t been the only one worried. He glances back down, in time to see part of “birthday” smudge and run down like- is his soulmate crying? Steve is about to ask when a reply starts to dance under his own. !!!!! is all it says at first, and Steve can’t help but laugh. It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Tony, and you are?

I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too!

    Tony has to take a deep breath before he writes on his skin each morning.

It’s been so many days since he turned eighteen – eight hundred and three, to be exact – and he’s never had a response. Howard says they don’t want him or he doesn’t have one, and the look in Maria’s eyes says that she thinks his soulmate is already dead. Rhodey promises him that he’s just the older one of the two of them, that that’s all it is, but he’s 20 now. He’s got one PhD and he’s already planning his next, he’s going to revolutionise robotics and artificial intelligence – Stark Industries will go far when he’s at the helm, with the fiery Pepper Potts at his side – but all he’s ever wanted is to be loved. He didn’t get it from his parents and he didn’t get it from his peers… Jarvis died when he was too young to have made the most of what he had in him, and now…

He expels all his resentment for the universe on a single breath, and reaches for the pen he keeps on his bedside table specifically for this purpose. He’s at Rhodey’s parents for the holiday, and the sentimentally of the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family makes him chose ‘beloved’ today.

Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! He writes, and then he caps the pen and puts it down, pulling on his shirt and heading downstairs – he can smell the pancakes Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, is making.

He’s halfway down the stairs when his arm begins to itch, and he stops dead, yanking up his sleeve. Thank you soulmate! is being scrawled hastily. Happy 4th of July! follows it, and Tony yelps. He scrambles back up the stairs for the pen, ignoring Rhodey as he calls worriedly up the stairs.

He’s crying, he can’t help it, but it’s been two years of waiting and waiting and hoping. Initially all he can put is a shaky few exclamation marks, just to let his soulmate know he’s here. He’s here, and they’re never going to have to wonder like he did. It’s so good to finally meet you! It’s shaky, but he can’t even care. I’m Tony, and you are? he asks, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed.

“Tony? You okay?” Rhodey calls out from the stairs, and Tony hastily tries to wipe his eyes as I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too! appears in spidery scrawl that Tony loves already. “Tony?” Rhodey asks as he appears in the doorway. Tony grins up at him, so hard that his face hurts. “What’s-?” he starts to ask, but the itch on Tony’s arm starts up again and draws both their gazes. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Tony can’t help but laugh.

You had me worried there, I’ll admit. But it’s worth it. He’s still grinning as Rhodey tugs him up off the bed – the pen’s barely clear of his skin – to hug him so tight his feet leave the ground. Rhodey’s laughing and Tony’s laughing as he buries face in Rhodey’s shoulder. “Today’s the day.” He mumbles into Rhodey’s shoulder, and Rhodey presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Today’s the day!” He replies, and Tony feels like he could burst he’s so happy. Rhodey lets him go, squeezing his shoulder and heading back downstairs. I hope you continue to think that Steve’s written while they’ve been hugging. Tony’s too busy grinning at it that he yelps, taken by surprise, when Rhodey comes back to drag him down the stairs. “Bring the pen with you, idiot.”

I will, I just know it. It’s disjointed as he’s writing while Rhodey drags him, but once he’s down the stairs Rhodey lets him go. I mean you’re a dude, so you’re already off to a good start he adds, and hopes it makes Steve laugh.

“What’s got you distracted son?” David Rhodes asks him, gruff but smiling as he steers Tony into the kitchen to sit at the table.

“Just my soulmate.” Tony tells him, happy to see how his face lights up before he, too, tugs Tony into something of a bear hug. That made my ma laugh, is there when Tony looks again. Glad to know the feeling’s mutual. Tony grins.

“I’m so happy for you son.” David tells him, clapping him on the shoulder quite like Rhodey does, and taking his seat.

“What’s that?” Roberta asks idly from the stove, but Tony lets Rhodey explain, scrawling out a reply. So mutual, you have no idea. Pretty boys are my weakness. “Oh Tony!” She exclaims when Rhodey’s told, and she kisses both his cheeks before she returns to the cooking.

“Maybe you should exchange phone numbers? Before you run out of space?” Rhodey asks, smirking, and Tony’s too happy to do any more than stick his tongue at him and tack Text me? And his number on the end. His phone – a modded to shit thing that has a lot of duct tape holding it together until he can fabricate a case – is in his pocket, and a few moments later it chirrups.

From: Unknown  09:43

I don’t think anyone would describe me as cute – Steve xxxxx

Tony saves him as ‘Beloved Steve’ before he can second guess himself, and then replies.

To: Beloved Steve  09:44

I bet I would – Tony xxxxxxxxxx

From: Beloved Steve  09:44

Would you? Xx

Attached to it is a picture, and Tony takes a moment to load it up – there’s two people in the photo, and Steve hasn’t mentioned which one he is. One of them is a tall brunet, with his hair pulled back into a pony tail and a lot of muscles under a basketball kit. He’s got a sharp angular face and stormy grey eyes – he’s undeniably gorgeous, but he’s not Tony’s type.

Now the other guy in the picture is scrawny, and has bandages over his knuckles like he’d punched something too hard. He’s got no muscles to speak of and the clothes that hang off him are covered in paint splatters. He’s got long fingers, and again his face is angular – he’s borderline unhealthily gaunt, but there’s defiance on his face even as he grins at the other guy, and his eyes are so blue. His hair flops in front of his face, and Tony can already picture those fingers pushing those golden strands out of the way. He likes what he can dream, very much.

To: Beloved Steve  09:47

Tell me that you’re the blond?!! Xxxxxx

The reply doesn’t come back as quick as the previous one, and Tony chalks it up to Steve celebrating his birthday with his family. It probably has nothing to do with Tony’s message – god, what if Steve’s the basketball hunk and sent that picture to make himself look good?? He shakes his head a little (he’s not really paying attention to the discussion at the breakfast table, but then he doesn’t think any of them expect him to, not today) and dispels the idea. He’d never be soulmated to someone like that. No, Steve’s the blond. He has to be.

From: Beloved Steve  09:55

You’re kidding, right? Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve  09:56

Fuck no. Brunet’s cute and all, but blondie’s gorgeous. Maybe needs to eat a few decent meals, but god… I could lose myself in those baby blues xxxxx

Tony’s fingers stumble over themselves to get the reply typed. He can feel the back of his neck heat up as he types the words, but the blush will never reach his face, thank god. The words feel like too much, but they’re the truth, and he knows if the roles were reversed he’d appreciate it.

From: Beloved Steve  10:02

… you mean that? Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve  10:03

I really do. Unless I got it wrong then brunet’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Xxxxxx

To: Beloved Steve  10:03

But seriously, I adore blond’s and muscles are overrated. Give me some brains and a decent sense of humour any day. <3

He curses under his breath for making the joke – way to play into any insecurity Steve might have there – but he’s trying. It’s only day one, they’ve got plenty of time.

From: Beloved Steve  10:17

You have no idea what that means to me. Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve  10:17

I think I have a small one… but hey, you get to tell me one day. ^u^ xxxxx

From: Beloved Steve  10:19

Yeah. Yeah I do. :D xxxxx

Tony grins down at his phone. They’ll do just fine.

    To: Tony Soulmate!!   19:37

You know, when I was younger, I used to pretend the fireworks were for me. Xxxxxx

Steve sends off the message without much thought. Tomorrow he’s going to have to find a way to increase the number of texts he gets a month – when it was just Bucky and Natasha bothering him, 500 a month was fine, but if this rate of conversation keeps up (and Steve hopes so much that it does) he and Tony will go through all his texts by tomorrow evening. Steve’s not complaining.

From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:38

That’s actually pretty funny. And cute. But mostly funny. Xxxxx

To: Tony Soulmate!!  19:39

I was six! How would I know they weren’t celebrating my birthday? Xxxxx

Steve can tell that Tony’s going to laugh at that, and he’s grinning at his phone. He’s been grinning at it all day, and seeing his mother smile every time he does. It’s a relief to both of them, and Steve hadn’t been thinking about it for the last two years but the metaphorical weight off his shoulders is palpable. He’s got a soulmate. He can’t get over that.

From: Tony Soulmate!!  19:39

I would’ve been, if I’d known. And now I do. Xxxxx

Steve could feel his cheeks heat up – Tony has been so completely sincere all day, around the jokes and the teasing. The honesty was refreshing – people just weren’t that honest in everyday life – and it made Tony seem that much more real somehow. So far, he was everything Steve would have dreamed of if he'd let himself.

To: Tony Soulmate!!   19:40

She doesn’t greet him, and he lowers his book to watch her as she walks past his chair – her fingers brush casually over his shoulder, and he feels it like a brand on his skin – and heads towards a shelf. She doesn’t take the books out of the library, and sometimes she’ll bring a notebook with her, to make notes of passages she enjoys. She loves Tony, and respects him as much as she would respect Fury, or Coulson, perhaps even Clint (though that respect isn’t blatant). Tony might not see it yet, but she does, and she will know where the books came from; she’ll treasure ever little bit of trust placed in her.

She selects a large dusty volume with faded Italian on the spine. She smiles when she catches Bruce’s gaze as she turns, and Bruce finds himself smiling back. The Black Widow doesn’t do casual affection, but Natasha Romanoff and the parts of her that she’s rebuilt from the chipped off bits of other people revels in it. He fully expects her to pad over to his chair, but instead of stealing a cushion and folding herself to the floor to lean against his legs like she usually does, she hesitates.

That alone amazes Bruce – Natasha, for all her broken parts (and don’t they all have them?) is never anything but confident, her moves calculated for the best possible outcomes – to see her nervous makes the breath catch a little in Bruce’s throat. He wants to preserve this moment, staring up at her with a tiny smile and receiving a smile in those pale green eyes of hers. He almost expects her to bite her lip, but instead she remains silent, and gestures towards him. For a moment he thinks she means his book, but then he realises that it’s not his book at all – it’s where it rests.

He doesn’t think it all the way through before he moves his book aside so she can sit. The armchair is large enough that they’re not cramped together, and she folds herself into his lap like- like- like she belongs there. She’s half curled against his chest, her legs arched over his. She can rest her own book against her legs, and Bruce can rest his against her knees. Turning the pages is a little difficult, but Bruce doesn’t want to move the arm that’s almost cradling Natasha’s shoulders. She smiles as she read, and Bruce finds himself watching her mouth the Italian soundlessly more than he reads.

If Natasha notices (and she will have, Bruce knows) she’s kind enough not to mention it.

  It doesn’t happen again for a few weeks. The next time Natasha joins him in the library she returns to leaning against his legs, and Bruce misses the weight of her curled against him. Her presence alone though is always a comfort – the other guy has a soft spot for her, for all the Avengers, but mostly for her – and he quiets when she’s around, like he too is quite happy just to bask.

When it does happen again, Bruce isn’t alone in the library. The battle was long and hard and trying for all of them. Steve’s curled up in a window seat, sketching away, occasionally staring out across the skyline without seeing it. Clint’s high-up on the shelves, moving between them softly – Bruce thinks he’s reciting poetry to himself, but he only catches snippets as the archer comes closer. He’ll settle down to knit eventually, but he’s still got all that adrenaline to work off.

Tony, however, has crashed. He’s on the lounger opposite Bruce’s armchair, muttering to himself but otherwise not doing a whole lot with an arm thrown over his face. Bruce is buried in his armchair, wrapped in a blanket, book forgotten in his lap as he tries not to give in to the pounding in his head.

Natasha’s silent when she comes in, or quiet enough that she’s lost under the breathing and muttering, and the occasional scritch-scratch of Steve’s pencil. She murmurs something softly to Clint which brings her to Bruce’s attention, just beyond his peripheral vision. He almost turns to stare at her, eager to drink her in and see that she’s okay; that her hair is still vibrant and her eyes are alight, but instead he waits. She wanders over to Tony, and before Bruce can fully treasure the sight of her bundled into a fluffy grey blanket, she sweeps it off her shoulders and over the genius, pausing to tuck it around him and drop a swift kiss to the genius’s head. Tony’s mouth quirks, and stretches into a full, genuine smile at whatever she mutters, and then she’s standing up and turning away.

Bruce knows what she will ask before she reaches him, and with his book closed and placed beside the chair, he unfolds the blanket enough that he can open his arms to her. Surprise is brief across her face, and her smile is blinding though it is small. She’s tense as she curls up against him, her feet tucked up on his thigh instead of under the other arm of the chair, and she nestles her head in the hollow of his throat instead of on his shoulder. He wraps the blanket around them both, and when she seems to relax as he reaches around her to do so, he remains. They’re cuddling, Bruce realises, and he can’t help but grin into her hair, even brush a featherlight kiss there in a sudden surge of bravery.

“Thank you…” she whispers.

“My pleasure.” He tells her honestly, and feels how she smiles against his chest.

  Bruce is discussing Jane Austen with Pepper when she asks, in a lull of the conversation; “is Tony okay?”

Bruce almost blurts why wouldn’t he be? but taking a moment to sip his tea – he’d made them a teapot, with china Tony bought him after teasing him about his other set, and they’re both curled into chairs in the library – he observes her. “You broke up.” He realises, and it isn’t a question. Pepper doesn’t ask him if Tony hadn’t told them, it’s clear she realises that by her pained expression.

“He deserves more than I know how to give him.” She tells him, and Bruce understands that. He tells her so.

“Maybe not quite in the same way,” he concedes – it’s been no secret among the Avengers that while Pepper likes them all as people very much, she’s not fond of what they do for a living – “but I know a little of it.”

“Oh?” Pepper asks, a chance to explain but no pressure behind it, and Bruce takes a moment to feel happy that he doesn’t hesitate to tell her.

“Asexual,” is all he has to say and she’s nodding in understanding. There’s a silence between them, a little tension, and Bruce tries to decide how to answer her question – wonders, in fact, if there’s a way to answer it that won’t hurt Pepper.

“Steve’s keeping him distracted.” He settles on. She sips her tea, but after hours of watching Natasha’s shielded countenance he catches the little bit of hurt there. “He probably doesn’t know what from, yet, just that Tony’s been a little distant. He’ll be just fine, and so will you.” Pepper smiles over the brim of her cup.

“Thank you.” She tells him. “They’d be good for each other,” she murmurs, and then a sly smirk is sliding onto her face that would make lesser men quake. On the contrary it makes Tony nervous, and there’s not an Avenger besides Natasha that wouldn’t be a mite afraid of what that smirk meant. “Like you and a certain superspy.” She’s teasing – comfortable enough to do so, and oh, Bruce does love this little family they’ve all built for each other.

Oh.

Oh.

Bruce feels his cheeks a little, but makes no effort to hide it.

“Clint’s not my type.” He tells her instead, and she laughs. Pepper Potts doesn’t get to laugh enough, but maybe she will now. He ducks his head, and sips his tea. “She’s… glorious.” He tells Pepper, and Pepper’s face lights up in a smile.

“You’d be good together.” She replies, soft and nudging, but mostly just warm – like the thought of her friends happy makes her happy too. Bruce realises then-

“Why didn’t you ask her about Tony?” Pepper’s smile dims, and Bruce immediately feels wretched – months ago, the sudden flare of guilt, of anger at himself would’ve resulted in code green, but now he thinks his eyes don’t even flash. There’s no fear in Pepper’s face, only a sadness that Bruce knows he didn’t put there, but feels responsible for.

“She’s mad at me. For hurting Tony.”

“Huh.” Bruce replies, a little shocked – perhaps even a little jealous. Natasha cares for Tony perhaps even more than Bruce realised.

  “He’s like a brother to me.”

It’s another rainy day in the Avengers library. Steve and Tony are playing chess with the board nestled between them on the window seat. They’re bickering over the merits of different strategies – and possibly cheating – but their faux anger is entirely off-set by the fact that they’re holding hands beside the board and playing one-handed. Bruce has been watching them for a few minutes, jealous of their little bubble and wondering what Natasha – curled up by his feet – thinks. He glances down, and while she’d not looked away from her book to speak, she now leans her head back against the chair. He brushes her hair out of her eyes with a featherlight touch and she smiles.

“Brother?” he asks. He keeps his voice low, but Steve and Tony are so wrapped up in each other they wouldn’t notice even if they were blatantly gossiping about them, aiming for a reaction. She nods, lips pursed.

“I always wanted one, as a little girl. An older one.” She closes her eyes and smiles. “Someone who would defend me, and wipe my tears away. Tuck me in. It was silly then, and perhaps it’s silly now.” Her eyes flick open, and Bruce can see the amusement dancing in them – so rare it is that she will mention her childhood, and even rarer still that she’ll smile when she does. “But he is what I’ve got.”

Bruce thinks, then, of the press conference after their last battle, when Tony had eviscerated a reporter with nothing more than a scrutinising look and several well-placed sentences; all because the man had dared to question Natasha’s place on the Avengers. Bruce had watched it later, having been asleep when the conference itself happened, and he’d been furious, and then stress baked (blueberry muffins, that found their way down to the lab as a thank you). Natasha had been even quieter than normal. “He’s a good man.” Bruce tells her when he remembers he still hadn’t replied.

“He is.” She reaches up then, and cups Bruce’s cheek. “But he’s not you, Bruce.”